Chapter 47

Lori was relieved when someone came to retrieve her the next morning.

She'd barely slept, too anxious to relax for more than a few minutes at a time. She was half awake when one of the other healers shook her shoulder.

"Someone is here to see you. One of the soldiers from Rohan."

With a tiny groan, Lori sat up. Her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton.

"Thank you."

She grabbed her healer's bag and stepped out into the hallway. Éomer was waiting for her, already dressed in his full gear.

"Is everything all right?" she asked as he pushed off the wall. "I would have thought you'd be readying yourself with the others."

"I'll join my éored shortly. I wanted to speak to you first." His voice was softer than usual. "To thank you for all you have done these past few days."

It took her a moment to ease the tightness in her chest so she could speak. "I'll look after Éowyn. I don't want you to worry about her after you leave."

"I would find it impossible not to worry." He gave her a small, sad smile. "But I know she will be in good hands."

Lori felt tears prick her eyes and stepped forward to embrace him. She was frightened for him, for Éowyn, for Rohan, and she feared that would turn to grief before she could stop it.

Éomer put a hand on the back of her head, then pulled away. "I know you will take care of Éowyn. I hope you will make sure to look after yourself as well, Lori."

She blinked back her tears and nodded. He inclined his head, then walked past her down the hallway. She watched his silhouette shrink into the sunlight outside and felt as if something had punched a hole through her chest.

She caught the others just outside the stables. Pippin was embracing Merry goodbye, and for the first time she could tell there was effort behind his cheerful disposition. Legolas and Gimli were bickering as usual, and for once she wished they wouldn't stop.

"Keep an eye on Merry, will you?" Pippin whispered as she embraced him. "He doesn't like to admit that he needs looking after, but he does."

"You'll do all right, lass," Gimli said after squeezing her in a tight hug.

Legolas extended his hand from his chest, and she returned the gesture.

"Do not let your thoughts stray too far east," he said with a small, enigmatic smile.

She let herself cry as they departed. The forces of Rohan and Gondor were making a procession down the main road, from the Sixth Circle to the First, and they would assemble once they passed through the outer gate of the city. Men and women stood on either side of the road, passing flowers and well wishes to those that would accept them. Lori drifted between them, scanning the procession for Aragorn. Would he be at the front or the back? Would she even have time to say goodbye to him?

Faeron found her first, moving against the current of the soldiers and stopping short once he laid eyes on her. He ducked around a horse and hurried towards her.

"I wasn't sure where to find you," he said, breathing hard.

She stepped into his arms, ignoring the way his breastplate jabbed her arm. He was dressed like a Gondorian soldier now, in many more layers than his Ranger garb. She hoped it would protect him when the time came.

"Be safe out there," she said, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. She'd promised herself she wouldn't ask for something he couldn't guarantee, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

"If you ask it of me, then I will." Faeron held her tighter. "I'm glad I had the chance to see you again, Lori."

A sob shook her chest. "So am I. And I'm sorry I didn't… I'm sorry we didn't have more time."

He pulled back and took her face in his hands, then gently brushed away her tears with his thumbs.

"It's all right." His face shifted into the unassuming, mirthful expression she'd always liked. "I've heard tell that a knight will often receive a favor from a maiden before riding out to battle."

She tried to humor him with a raised eyebrow. "What kind of favor would you like?"

His expression shifted to something more hesitant. "I was hoping to give you something, actually."

He leaned forward, hesitated, then kissed her. She leaned into him, feeling fresh tears swell beneath her eyelids. When he pulled back, she kissed him again, briefly, and tasted salt on their lips.

"Thank you," she murmured, and released him before she lost her resolve.

Faeron put a hand on her cheek, smiled, and was gone.

Lori took a moment to collect herself, then continued down the street at a slower pace. She felt herself teetering on the edge she'd been terrified of for so long, the inevitable moment when all her grief would spill out and she would be powerless to stop it. She hoped she would find a moment of privacy before then.

There's nothing wrong with crying in front of people here, she reminded herself. Indeed, many women and even some of the men had tears streaming down their faces as they watched the soldiers pass.

Aragorn left me with that. Even if this is the last time I see him, he left me with that bit of courage.

The thought only sharpened the grief in her heart.

She found Aragorn by the front gate. He was mounted beside Éomer and a couple other men she didn't recognize, the stoicism in his expression only partially concealing his weariness. Éomer noticed her first, nudged Aragorn's arm, and spoke to him in a low voice. Aragorn's gaze snapped to her, and he dismounted.

"You have saved me a trip back to the Houses of Healing," he said, and she let out a watery laugh and embraced him.

What more was there to say that was not already understood between them? What more could she do besides let him go?

She thought of Helm's Deep, when she had watched him go to his death, convinced that none of them would leave the fortress alive. She thought of their rushed goodbye at Dunharrow, how her resignation had not lessened the pain of parting.

"I'll be all right," she said, though the tremor in her voice didn't sound convincing at all.

"I know." Aragorn brushed a few damp strands of hair away from her cheek. "Lori, whatever misfortune it was that brought you to the Coldfells all those years ago, I consider myself most fortunate to have met you. And I am incredibly proud of the woman you have become."

That was it. The tears came fast and hot, and she clung to Aragorn as if he would be able to hold her steady against the storm of her sobs. He didn't pull away or try to quiet her, but she knew it was time for him to go.

Lori stepped back and made a fruitless effort to dry her eyes. "I'm grateful for everything. All the time we spent together. I… No matter what, I am going to try to be happy."

"I'm glad." Aragorn smiled down at her, the affection on his face only slightly marred by the tears in his eyes. "I hope you find peace, Lori."

She sniffled and nodded. "I hope so, too."

With one last parting glance, Aragorn mounted his horse and followed the last of the soldiers through the gate. The crowd of onlookers surged forward to wish them farewell.

She stayed where she was, breathing through the tearing sensation in her chest, then began the long trek back to the Houses of Healing.

Lori squeezed the cloth until it was only damp, droplets of water falling back into the bowl and releasing the earthy scent of athelas. She turned and began bathing Éowyn's arm with gentle movements.

Éowyn looked down at her work with dull eyes. The silence between them was thick and heavy. It was midday, a few hours after the army had left for Mordor, and the wound of their parting was still fresh.

"I wish that I had use of at least one arm," Éowyn said. "That I could care for myself. I do not want you to spend all of your time acting as a nursemaid."

"I don't mind." Lori glanced up at her listless expression, then set the cloth aside. Éowyn already knew she didn't mind. This wasn't really about her at all. "Perhaps we can see about getting some strength back into your right arm. Some exercise will be good for your spirit as well."

Something flickered in her gaze. "I will follow your lead, then."

"We might as well get you out of bed, too," she continued, trying to prompt another spark on her face, anything that resembled the liveliness she'd once had. "It's not too cold today."

"Then let us go." Éowyn sat up and pushed the covers off her lap.

Lori drew back, caught off guard for a moment, then decided to embrace whatever had given her this burst of energy.

She stepped back and fought the urge to hover as Éowyn slid her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her bare toes wiggled on the stone floor, and she let out a short sigh.

"I think one of the healers left some spare clothing here." Lori bent over the trunk at the foot of the bed and rifled through its contents. She extracted a midnight blue overdress clasped in the middle with a star-shaped brooch.

Éowyn regarded it coldly. "I know I cannot dress myself."

"You would do the same for me if our places were reversed," Lori said, and didn't let any pity show on her face as she stepped forward to help her.

She dressed Éowyn, combed through her hair, and laced up her boots. They were the sturdy riding boots she had worn while disguised as a soldier, and her mood seemed to improve a little once they were on.

"Did you know I broke my arm once?" Lori asked as they walked side by side down the corridor. "It was the first thing I did when I came here. I fell on a rock and…" She gestured to the place on her arm where the break had been.

Concern flickered on Éowyn's face. "What did you do?"

Lori shook her head. "There wasn't much I could do. I would have died if Aragorn hadn't found me. I was scared and helpless, I didn't know where I was or what this world was like…" She chewed on her lower lip, lost in memory. "We were in a dangerous part of the woods, and he was trying his best to avoid trolls. I didn't want to believe what he was telling me. I lashed out at him, and nearly got both of us killed." Tears pricked her eyes. "And he forgave me."

Éowyn said nothing, but she reached out and took Lori's arm in her right.

They found a quiet, secluded spot in the gardens. It faced the eastern half of the city, and though the dark clouds of Mordor were visible on the horizon, the fields below were too shrouded in mist for them to see the departing army.

Lori retrieved a stone used for grinding herbs and placed it in Éowyn's palm.

"Try rotating this in a circle," she said, indicating the direction with one finger. "It'll help the muscles in your hand and forearm."

Éowyn followed her directions with clumsy movements. Her grip faltered after a few rotations, the stone nearly slipping from her grip. She frowned and repositioned it.

"Do you really believe such a simple exercise could improve my grip?"

"This was actually something I used to do to warm up before playing the violin," Lori said. "I used two smaller spheres, but we'll work with what we have."

Éowyn's eyes flickered over her face. "Then this was something you learned from your…world?"

She hummed an affirmative. "Faeron used to tease me for recommending exercises like that, but they're proven to help." Her breath caught in her throat. "I don't think I ever mentioned him to you."

"The man you spoke with at Dunharrow?" A small, knowing smile graced her lips. "I imagine there must be a story there."

"Not much of one." She looked down at her hands and wished she had something to fidget with. "Just several interrupted beginnings. He rode out with the others this morning."

Éowyn set the stone in her lap and reached out to clasp her hand. They stayed like that for a while, watching the shadows smolder on the horizon.

Six days, Aragorn had told her. It would be a six day march to the Black Gate, where they intended to make their last stand. They had at least that long before they would have to reckon with their fate.

"Do you believe it is cowardice that drives people from battle?" Éowyn asked quietly.

Lori looked her in the eye. "Do you think I'm a coward?"

"No. No, but…" Her gaze dropped to her hands. "Éomer has seen more battles than I. He has witnessed the horrors of it firsthand, and I have watched him ride out again and again to face those same horrors. Today, he rode out to what may be certain death." Her jaw trembled. "If that is bravery, then what would you call those that stay behind?"

"I don't know," Lori said. "I don't think they're opposites—those who fight and those they fight for. I don't think soldiers choose death and I don't think staying behind means you'll live. But I think it's about choosing life anyway." She squeezed Éowyn's hand. "When all of this is over, someone has to inherit the world, right?"

Éowyn met her gaze with hollow eyes. "You speak of a nebulous people who will walk the earth in years to come, but what of us?"

She took a moment to think. "I'm going to stay with you while you find your way through this." "I'm going to look after Merry. If…If the others come back, I'm going to make sure they're all right." She swallowed, tears welling in her eyes. "And I promised Aragorn I would find some way to be happy."

"And what would you have me do?"

"I can't decide that for you." She smiled wryly. "I know you wouldn't accept that, anyway."

Éowyn's grip on her hand tightened. "I would take any task that would save me from lying idle another minute."

"All right." She stood with Éowyn, then stopped her before she could move. "But when I tell you it's time to rest, please listen to me. I want you to heal properly."

"Very well," she said, and Lori imagined her acquiescence was more due to their friendship than her status as a healer.

Lori intended to take her to the stables, but before they could leave the grounds they were stopped by a tall man in blue robes. She'd seen him a handful of times before—he was the Warden of the Houses of Healing, and commanded all the other healers within.

"Lady Éowyn," he said, "I have advised that you keep to your bed for another seven days at least."

Lori reached for her arm, caught between feeling defensive of Éowyn and guilty that she was going against the wishes of the warden. "I thought some fresh air would help her condition. We were going for a short walk."

"None of the wounded may be released from this House but by my leave," he said, his face grim but not unkind. "And I would not in good conscience permit you to roam about." He turned to Lori when she opened her mouth to protest. "If it is true that you came from Rohan and have cared for the lady before, then I trust you in that, but as long as you work within this House you will abide by my rules."

She flushed and nodded, but Éowyn drew herself to her full height. Even with her arm in a sling, she looked fierce and uncompromising.

"Who is the lord who commands this city?"

The warden regarded her calmly. "If you speak of the steward of this city, the title by right belongs to Faramir."

"And where can I find him?"

"He remains in the Houses of Healing as well, recovering from his own wounds."

"Will you not take me to him?"

The warden inclined his head and gestured for them both to follow him back towards the main building.

Lori bit back a smile as they walked. Did she just ask for his manager?

They walked through a short corridor and into an open-air pavilion dotted with budding flowers. The warden stopped at the entrance and gestured to the dark-haired man looking out over the balcony at the city below. He was tall, nearly matching Aragorn's height, though the linen clothing of the Houses of Healing softened his imposing figure. If he noticed their arrival, he made no sign of it.

Éowyn touched her arm and said quietly, "I wish to speak to him alone."

Lori blinked, wondering if she'd said something wrong earlier, but all she said was, "I'll be right here."

As Éowyn crossed the pavilion, the warden cleared his throat. "Ioreth told me how you came to be here."

Of course she did. Lori faced him and clasped her hands over her stomach. "I apologize for earlier. I was in no way trying to undermine you."

His expression softened a fraction. "Ioreth also told me of your dedication to the work here. I have no qualms with your presence here. It seems you have the right disposition for a healer."

She smiled. "Thank you. Sir."

After the warden departed, Lori busied herself with an inventory of her bag while she waited for Éowyn. She thumbed the inscription on the strap, still legible despite the wrinkles in the leather.

O môr henion i dhû.

She let out a short sigh through her nose. It was keeping her afloat, staying busy with Éowyn and her other duties as a healer. She was letting her pain show, now, but she wasn't giving any time to it. It was almost humorous, the way she'd fallen so easily into old habits.

Éowyn rejoined her with a strange expression on her face. "Shall we?"

"How was it?" Lori asked with a glance over her shoulder as they left. Faramir's eyes followed them for a moment before turning back to the city.

"I have leave now to walk the gardens as I please," Éowyn replied, something that wasn't quite frustration in her voice. "And they are moving my quarters to the eastern wing."

The gardens were beautiful, once Lori really took the time to look at them.

Everything had clearly been planted with care, even if weeds and dead leaves were scattered among the soil now. She gathered the debris in her palm, handful by handful, and carried them to the grass at the edge of the garden.

Some of the flowers were already budding, reaching towards the light. She sat and rested her chin on the stone rim of the planter and gazed at the tightly-bundled petals, pink fading into white.

Everything here survived in cycles, budding and blooming and taking root and persisting through the death of winter.

The sky was clear today, the sun warming the soil. Beetles wriggled in their journey through their own infinitesimal world. There were no birds, not yet, and Lori wondered when she would begin to hear their calls in the morning.

She realized she was looking forward to it.

The gardens were far from silent, though. The wind was strong at this height, snatching locks of her hair every now and then. Wood smoke rose in thin streams only to be dispersed by the breeze. The air smelled of baking bread and melting snow.

Lori turned her back to the planter and hugged her knees to her chest. It wasn't all bad. Of course it wasn't all bad.

Even in her worst memories, in the year she had lost, there had been pinpricks of light. She remembered trying cheesecake for the first time, how there had been a moment of delight before the guilt. She remembered seeing a sky peppered with stars during the early days of the pandemic. Whispering and laughing late into the night with her phone pressed to her ear. Her mother's arms around her shoulders. Her father wishing her goodnight.

She'd forgotten those moments, too.

If she didn't think of them now, perhaps she'd forget. Perhaps she'd forget her days in Bree, all those months she'd walked in search of her next meal, and the moments in between. She didn't want to forget the little girl with the scraped knee, how she'd tucked a flower behind Lori's ear after she'd bandaged her injury. She didn't want to forget the time Bilbo had sketched a portrait of her, how the proportions had been a little skewed but the smile on her face hadn't looked unnatural at all.

She didn't want to forget the time Aragorn had taught her how to skip stones. The time Lindir had inadvertently played the tune of "Bad Romance" and making her laugh. When Adela had shown her a tucked-away hollow filled with baby rabbits. The day she'd stood in the rain with Faeron and let droplets kiss her eyelids.

She wanted to remember all of it. Finding out Théodred had a penchant for sweets and swearing a mock-oath that she would keep his secret. Braiding ribbons into her hair next to Sárelle and accidentally tangling strands of their hair together. Blowing dandelion puffs with Dernhild and watching the seeds float away until they were out of sight. Staying up late remembering every pun she could after finding out they made Éomer laugh until his cheeks were red.

And Éowyn, eyes sparkling with joy, throwing her head back to greet the night sky after they'd climbed onto the roof of Meduseld.

The memories spilled out of her, down her cheeks and out past her lips. She didn't know if she was crying from grief or nostalgia or joy. She didn't try to stop herself.

I'm only in pain because I have something good to lose, she'd told Éowyn.

The pain was here with her now. But there would be good, too, if she went looking for it.

She uncurled her body, stood, and walked out of the garden.

I'm just a sucker for before-battle goodbye kisses. Faelori nation rise up!

I feel like Aragorn and Lori have a pretty established father/daughter relationship at this point but I still want to put in some more milestones like the "I'm proud of you" moment. And one more coming up :)

This last scene was inspired by an experience I had watching Soul which made me cry (I know, crying at a Pixar movie, how original). It's a montage about the small, beautiful things in life and it hit me hard because when you're struggling with depression those little things and beautiful moments can just stop existing. And seeing that spelled out really made me want it back. So that's what I was trying to do with Lori here. In that vein, I recommend two song for this chapter: Was I Just Another One by Gregory Alan Isakov, and Epiphany from the Soul soundtrack.