Hi all. Sorry for the delay in posting this. Truthfully, my attention has been on another project, but I'm definitely going to finish this one.

Also, trigger warning for discussions of self harm, suicide, and related topics.

Chapter 39

Daylight pierced her swollen eyelids. Her head felt stone-heavy. A raw ache split through her chest, renewing itself each time she recalled the events of the previous night.

She'd dreamed about it, the lost days and the blood rolling through her unconscious mind freely without anything to disrupt them.

She was awake now. She needed the memories to stop, even for a moment.

Drying her tears with the bedsheet, Lori rolled over and froze.

She wasn't alone like she'd hoped—or assumed. Aragorn was sitting in a chair next to the bed, elbows propped on his knees. He looked up as soon as she moved, and their eyes met.

Briefly, her pain was replaced with mortification. He'd witnessed everything last night, had held her through every wail and sob. And she could see from the dark circles under his eyes that he'd stayed up for her. Lori lowered her gaze to her knees as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

What was likely only a moment of silence seemed to drag on for an eternity before Aragorn spoke.

"The stone you touched last night was a Palantír. It is used to communicate with others over a long distance."

She hadn't even begun to ponder the actual cause of what had happened last night. She kept her gaze on her knees and spoke in a rasping voice.

"I saw this…ball of fire. It looked like an eye."

"That was Sauron."

"Sauron?" she repeated weakly. "I don't understand. Is he a wizard?"

"He is a being of great power." He put a bracing hand on her shoulder. "You should have never been forced to encounter something like that. I am truly sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." Gingerly, she pulled her thoughts back to the memory of that night. "I was just trying to help…" The image of Pippin's shuddering form came back to her, and she let out a small gasp. "What happened to Pippin? Is he all right?"

"He will be. I am more concerned about you."

It slammed into her again, the truth and the terror, and she closed her eyes. She tried to take in a calming breath, but the air felt thin and weak in her lungs.

"He must have spoken to you within your mind," Aragorn prompted gently.

Lori nodded. "H-He…I don't know what he did. But I was able to remember everything from the year that I lost." She took a shuddering breath, and her voice came out as barely more than a whisper. "I found out how I died."

Her chest felt flat, compressing her lungs and making it nearly impossible to breathe. She lost herself in the memory until Aragorn spoke.

"You do not have to speak of it if it is too painful."

Lori pressed her lips together and shook her head. She needed it out, needed it all to exist somewhere than just her head.

The words wouldn't come. She didn't know how to scale them, how to fit them into her mouth. It took a monumental effort to get her jaw moving, to expel the truth decaying inside her.

"I…I was the one who did it. They took a year from me because…that was the time it took between the moment I decided and the moment I went through with it." She pressed her thumb to her wrist, where the scar would have been if she'd survived. "I did it right here, and I bled out."

A sob shuddered through her, taking her by surprise. Tears welled up, and she swiped them away before they could fall. She was sick of crying, and even more embarrassed that Aragorn was seeing her like this.

But she didn't have the strength anymore to hold it all in. It was painful and humiliating, but it felt like she was finally draining some long-infected wound, and she didn't have it in her to let the festering go on any longer.

"Oh, Lori." Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed and took her into his arms, and she curled up against him.

She didn't want to look, didn't want to know what he would think of her now that he knew the truth.

But he was still holding her. He hadn't once told her to pull herself together and stop crying. Her parents had stopped showing her that kind of leniency when she'd turned seven.

So she let herself cry. She let it all hurt. It took a force of will not to pull away and retreat back into her mind. Aragorn just held her while she cried, the same way he had the previous night.

"Do you remember why you did it?" he asked quietly.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. "There was so much pain…I-I still feel it now. I couldn't find a way past it. I didn't have anything, n-no hope…"

She felt ashamed speaking the words aloud. There were people in Edoras who had lost their families, who had seen their homes destroyed, who had fought for their lives with only scars and grief to show for it. Was she so weak that she couldn't withstand even a fraction of that pain?

"Do you still want to die?" Aragorn asked lowly.

The words nearly made her pull away, but there was no accusation in his question. She knew immediately what her answer should be, but the truth was harder to discern. It was hard to untangle the pain she'd felt in her previous life from everything she'd suffered in the past few weeks. It was harder still to grasp the reason she'd fought through it all. She'd stayed for her friends, of course, for the people she loved, but if she hadn't had them…

"I don't know," she whispered after a long silence. "I don't think so, but there are still days when it feels like too much."

Aragorn released her and pulled back, and she was shocked to find his own eyes shining with tears. All at once she felt guilty that she'd made him cry and embarrassed that she was witnessing it at all. She glanced away, but he put a hand on her cheek and prompted her eyes to return to his face.

"This is not a burden you have to bear alone, Lori."

She sniffled, brow furrowing in frustration. "I know. I know it's better to talk about it, I just…"

"What is holding you back?" he asked softly.

He wanted to understand. Perhaps this was what they both needed—this could be her way of asking for help. Her heart ached, and just dredging up the memories filled her with exhaustion, but she forced the words out one by one.

"When I was younger, my dad would get upset whenever I cried or raised my voice, so I stopped doing it. I thought there was something wrong with me, that I cried so easily and felt so hopeless when I had a good family, a home, a decent education…so I taught myself to just keep it all inside my head. I know it's the right thing to share your worries and your troubles, but it goes against every instinct I've taught myself since I was a child."

Aragorn nodded and remained silent, as if he sensed there was more.

"I started…"

She struggled to swallow. The thought of revealing this to him gave her the feeling of standing on the edge of a long drop. But he already knew how she'd died, and she needed it out.

"I started punishing myself for being upset." Her fingers curled over her knees. "I-I have a lot of scars on my legs from it. It was the only thing I could do to calm myself down. After I came here, I was s-so good about staying clean, but after Théodred died, I just…" She squeezed her eyes shut, the pain of the memory overwhelming her.

"You were injured during the journey to Helm's Deep," Aragorn said. There was no surprise in his voice—he must have suspected something, but Lori had been too scared to consider how much. He reached out and brushed a few damp strands of hair from her cheek. "You are not wrong, Lori. Your pain is not a weakness. You carry yourself with grace and kindness, and that is far more valuable than your ability to endure."

She forced her eyes open. What good was her kindness when she was so mired in pain she couldn't get out of bed?

"Be gentle with yourself," Aragorn said, as if he sensed her doubt. "I know it will take time. I would guide you through it, if you will let me."

Lori bit her lip and tears welled up again. Aragorn didn't make empty promises. He was offering to stay and help her heal. She ached for that, for the security of his presence, but how long would it be before duty called him away again? She couldn't force him to make a choice like that.

"Let's take it one day at a time," she whispered. "I do want to try and get better."

"I am glad to hear that." Aragorn smiled and squeezed her hand, even as tears shone in his eyes.

It felt a little unreal to see him like this, to see his dignity and pain and compassion exist together. She'd laid out every ugly piece of herself for him to see, and he'd seen something worth putting back together.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Lori picked at a loose thread on her skirt, almost embarrassed to ask the question. But this felt like the last mystery she had to unlock between them, and there was no real reason to lie or obfuscate now.

"After that first day, when you found me, and the weeks it took to get to Rivendell… I mean, knowing what I know now, about how much you're responsible for…" She swallowed, searching for the right words. "Why did you spend so much time helping me?"

She finally forced herself to meet his eyes, her stomach clenching with anxiety.

Aragorn was silent for a moment. "I grew to care for you," he said slowly, as if he was also choosing his words carefully. "I wanted to see to it that you would be happy, that you would be at peace. I took that as my responsibility, along with the other duties I carry."

"Is that everything?"

"It is."

With her next breath, Lori felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She felt safe, guarded, in a way she hadn't before. She'd never been a burden to him. There would be no choice between her and his duty as a protector because they were one and the same.

"How do you feel?" Aragorn asked after a long silence.

"Exhausted," she said with a small, shaky laugh. "I feel…I don't feel good, but," she touched her chest, "a little lighter, perhaps. I need some time to sort through everything."

"Would you like to be alone?"

Her lips twitched mirthlessly. "Do you trust me with that?"

"I trust you to come to me when you are in need."

"I will." She hesitated. "I'll try."

"That is all I can ask of you." He leaned forward and drew her into another embrace.

Lori leaned into his shoulder and let herself just breathe.

It was a painful process, sorting through her lost memories.

Perhaps a small part of her had always known that she had been her own cause of death. Lori had toyed with the idea before, then shied away before she could fully consider the implications. She felt grief for her old life rising up again with an intensity she hadn't felt since her days in Rivendell. Her parents must have found her afterwards, before or after they'd discovered the note she'd left on her desk. She'd abandoned it all willingly, just like she'd jumped off that train, and the worst part was that she perfectly understood why.

It was only Aragorn's promise keeping her afloat. She would use her words instead of a knife to bleed out the pain.

Lori sighed and ran a hand over her face. She'd curled up on her side again, but after a minute of convincing herself to move, she sat up. Her stomach ached for food after a night of drinking. She needed to wash her face, bring some of the swelling down, and change into some clean clothes. It would make her feel better, if she could summon the will to do it.

Part of her wished she had asked Aragorn to stay, so he could help her go through the motions. But she had enough experience dragging herself out of her own dysfunction, and after another stretch of rumination, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

Lori kept her eyes away from the faces of those she passed in the corridor. She cringed inwardly as she remembered she hadn't been alone during her breakdown the previous night. There had been no judgement from Aragorn, but Merry had also been in the room. She had a vague memory of Gandalf's voice as well. They would all look at her differently now, and despite Aragorn's assurances, shame burned deep in her gut.

She scrubbed her face with cold water and changed into her most comfortable outfit, a green cotton dress that Éowyn had gifted her last spring. She combed out the tangles in her hair and braided it out of her face.

Tea was next. If her memory served, she still had a bit of lavender in her stores that she could add to the brew. The scent would calm her, and while she drank it, she could think of her next move.

Before she could reach the infirmary, she crossed paths with Éowyn, who immediately moved to her side and grasped both of her hands.

"Lori, I heard you fell ill last night. Are you all right?"

She suppressed a wince. "Who told you?"

"You didn't come to breakfast, so I asked Aragorn. He said it would be best to give you time to recover."

Lori relaxed slightly. At least the news had come to her through Aragorn and not the grapevine.

Éowyn searched her face. "This was not some drunken sickness, was it?"

"I wish." She let out a small, bitter laugh, which did nothing to stop the tears that sprung to her eyes. "I… Well, none of us ended the night in high spirits."

"Did you harm yourself again?" Éowyn whispered.

"No! No, I promise it wasn't that." She bit her lip. She'd been close, though. The skin on the inside of her wrist tingled with phantom pain.

"You know you can trust me." There was a plea in Éowyn's voice, that same helplessness that had shaken her after Théodred's death.

"I do," Lori said, squeezing her hands. "I will tell you the full story, but I can't do it today. For the moment I'm just trying to…hold myself together."

"All right." Her gaze softened in understanding. "There is some stew left in the great hall if you are hungry."

She nodded. "I'd like something to eat."

As soon as she was a little steadier on her feet, she would tell Éowyn the full truth. Whether or not she would believe such an incredible story was uncertain, but after everything they'd been through together, she still deserved to know.

"What did you mean when you said none of us ended last night in high spirits?" Éowyn asked as they walked down the corridor.

She hesitated. "Have you seen Dernhild or Sárelle this morning?"

"Dernhild only. I assumed Sárelle slept late." She frowned. "Is she all right?"

"They had an argument last night while we were asleep." She shook her head wearily. "I'm going to try and mediate for them at some point."

"I see. The subject of their relationship finally came into question?"

Lori's eyes widened. "Um…"

"I am not blind," Éowyn said with a small smile.

She searched her face. "And you don't have a problem with it?"

"I wish them both happiness, however they find it. If you need any help with this intervention, you need only ask."

"I'm so glad I don't have to deal with this alone," Lori breathed, and Éowyn gave her shoulder an affectionate bump as they entered the great hall.

They sat at their usual table, and Lori tucked into her stew the second after it landed on the table. In her previous life, on the days when she'd cried until her face was swollen, it had been her habit to lie in bed with her hunger. It had felt like penance for her weakness.

She was hungry now, and she didn't want to be. She wanted to clean away her sorrows and aches and needs and be whole again.

It made sense, finally, to eat and keep living.

"You seem different today," Éowyn said after a while. "I do not know how to explain it."

"I feel different," Lori said, setting her spoon down. "I suppose I had a revelation this morning. Aragorn helped me through it. I…I want to start feeling better, if I can manage it."

"I am glad to hear it." Éowyn's expression warmed, then she glanced at something over Lori's shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss?"

She turned to see Merry approaching their table, his arms stiff at his sides.

"I wanted to apologize for what happened last night. Pippin is always getting into things he shouldn't, but it's never caused much trouble before now. I-I'm really sorry you got mixed up in it."

"You don't have to apologize for anything." A stain of embarrassment crept onto her cheeks, but it wasn't as intense as before. "And neither does Pippin. I understand it was an accident. Is he all right?"

Merry nodded. "He's gone off to Gondor with Gandalf. It's for his own safety, I suppose."

There was a mournful undercurrent in his voice, and Lori's heart twinged in sympathy.

"Would you like to sit with us?" She turned to Éowyn. "Have you met Merry before?"

"I saw your performance last night," Éowyn said as Merry climbed onto the bench. "I thought it delightful."

"Thank you, my lady." He straightened his waistcoat. "I was glad to have a proper meal for the first time in a while. Excluding the food we found in Isengard, of course."

Éowyn's eyes widened. "You were in the tower itself?"

"Well, not exactly. Just outside it. Old Treebeard told us not to get close to the tower. We were lucky the storerooms were in a building on the outside, and that it wasn't too damaged by the flood."

"Um," Lori traded a perturbed glance with Éowyn, "who is Treebeard?"

"Ah. Excuse me. I'm getting ahead of myself. I suppose I should start after we escaped from the orcs who kidnapped us."

Merry cleared his throat and launched into a retelling of his adventures with Pippin in Fangorn Forest. The Rohirrim spoke of the forest in mutters, believing it was haunted or otherwise hostile to outsiders. Apparently there was some truth to that—Merry and Pippin had encountered large, tree-like beings known as Ents, who had launched a siege on Isengard.

Lori would hardly have believed the tale had she not heard even more fantastical things from Bilbo. On Éowyn's part, she listened to Merry with rapt attention, though a slight smile curved her lips as if she wasn't sure whether to believe him or not.

"Your King Théoden and the rest arrived after the waters had calmed a bit," Merry finished. "Too late to see any fighting, but I've heard you had your own problems to handle."

Éowyn's expression dimmed a little. "That we did."

"At least it's over now," Merry said, a fragile hope in his voice.

Lori wished she could share his optimism. Rohan was free from war now, and her friends were safe in Edoras. They had a chance to wake up from the nightmare they'd been living in.

But she couldn't quite bring herself to believe this peace would truly last, and one glance at Éowyn told her she was having the same doubts.

A small but really important moment I wanted to include in this chapter was Aragorn crying in front of Lori. I feel like if you have parental figures that shame you for crying and never show tears themselves, it can be scary when/if they finally do cry. It creates this expectation that parents aren't supposed to cry in front of their kids, which is of course unrealistic. So I really wanted Aragorn to show some vulnerability in front of Lori and demonstrate that it is acceptable and normal.