N/A: Just a few things before we start:
1. As usual, I don't own Lord of the Rings and this story is merely a product of my (vivid) imagination. 2. English is not my first language so forgive me for any mistakes. 3. This is my first story so go easy on me. 4. I tried to stay faithful to the books specially concerning the timeline, except for one or two things (sorry about that!) 5. I don't know who gave Lothíriel the nickname Thíri but I love it... I used it... Is that OK? =) 6. And finally, thanks to everyone who writes fanfics! You rock!
On with the show then...
Prologue
Dunharrow, 9th March, 3019
Éomer woke suddenly. How real it had been... That dream... The most wonderful dream he had ever had... He had dreamt of a beautiful woman who slept peacefully, laid in a small bed, raven hair gathered in a loose braid, spread across the pillow, her face reflected by the dim light in the room.
Even thought it was a dream, he felt he should leave. It wasn´t proper, he shouldn´t be here... with her... But he was so tired...
He glanced upon her again.
"Simply beautiful...." he heard himself whisper.
He felt the urge to reach out and touch her. He walked towards her and raised his hand to her face but he stopped half way. It wasn´t right... He had no right...
Still, he lingered. Never taking his eyes from her, he removed his breast plate of his armour. It felt good to get the weight off of him. His shirt was dirty so he removed it as well. The rest of the armour pieces soon followed. Sleepy and tired, he laid on the bed next to her and drew a soft blanket on them. His eyes were closing but he couldn't stop looking at that dark haired angel.
Beautiful...
Now, awake, he could still smell the flowery perfume of her hair.
****
Minas Tirith, 9th March
She felt the light in her eyes, a soft light with the morning rise. As she opened them she she saw the high window opened.
Damn... I forgot to close the shutters... she thought.
She never could sleep with the light, ever since she was a child. There was no way to change that... Taking a deep breath she sat on the bed. Her braid felt over her right shoulder and she tossed back again. She had decided to stay in the Houses of Healing because she was too tired to return home the night before. Everyday new injured arrived...Soldiers, farmers, travelers... They needed all the help they could get. And she did had some skills, fruit of beeing a pupil of the Dol Amroth healers and also the only woman in a house of men... so she had offered a hand on the very first day she arrived at Minas Tirith . Her father and brothers had come to war... She had come with them and she wasn't going to sit and do nothing.
Her bared feet touched the floor. The marble tiles were cold as ice.
As she moved to the window, she remembered the dream she had.
She could almost see it with absolute clarity. A young man with hair was fair as hay. A soldier most likely. Asleep so profoundly, like one who hasn't slept in thousands of years. His chest bare, rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he laid next to her on the small cot.
"Beautiful..." she remembered thinking. "What a beautiful man..."
A lock of his hair was slipping across his face and she carefully removed it. She held the lock between her fingers for a second. So smooth....
Lothíriel of Dol Amroth sighed as she gathered her clothes. "What am I doing?! Dreaming of men that I don't know..." she uttered as she got ready for another day.
