I had always known I would be forced to marry some man when I was of age. I had no idea it would be so soon. I am but 1 and 20 and here I am. I know little of the man I am marrying, only that he is a king and Lord of the Riddermark. Many times have I heard the tales of the bravery and valor of the Rohirrim and the lord who rules them. Tales can be twisted and everyone knows that. Who knows what fate awaits me after this union? Eternal slavery? Sadness? Or will it be happy? I know not. However, it matters little of what I am forced to, I will remain firm, I will fight until I can fight no more. The blood of my forefathers makes me strong and I will not fail them. My name is Lothiriel daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and today, is my wedding day.

Chapter 1

One year earlier:

"The enemy is out our gate my lord. We must stand and fight. There is yet hope for Gondor's future you need to go to war." My father spoke with the same passion I had seen him use when talking to his men. Lord Denethor who sat slumped in his throne bestowed upon the stewards by the kings long ago just gave my father a careless look. His face was grim and depressing while his form was that of a man who had seen one too many battles. For Denethor however, that would never be the case. He would rather see his men fight and die at his feet than pick up a sword to defend this great city. He was stubborn, since the death of Boromir his heart and mind were nothing but crumbling within his body. I sensed by his expression he would hear nothing of it.

"Gondor will survive. Nothing can penetrate these walls. Leave me Imrahil and take your people with you." He spoke acidly and the tone in his voice sounded of utter defeat. My older brothers and I looked from one to the other with anger and determination.

"My Lord you cannot just sit back and let our people die! You are steward of Gondor and overseer of Minas Tirith. How can you just let them walk in and kill us all?" My father's voice was collected but his clenched fists gave us all the knowledge of his irritation.

"This war is hopeless Imrahil. You can do nothing against this darkness much like I. What point is there in even trying?" Lord Denethor's voice was grating upon the ears. My father's head hung for only a moment.

"I will not and cannot just let the innocent die because their lord will do nothing to protect them. Nay, I fight and I would like to see you stop me." My father, Prince Imrahil spoke boldly in the court of Minas Tirith but his fury was just.

"Leave my city!" Denethor rose from his seat for the first time and with a quick bow my father as well as myself and my brothers departed. The city was already dark and the fear was in the air. My eyes scanned across the houses and dwellings of the people of Minas Tirith and my eyes saw nothing but sorrow. How could Denethor allow such a thing as this to befall a city such as Minas Tirith? My father would never allow such fear and sadness to rule Dol Amroth. The citizens watched as we passed with either curiosity or cautiousness. Times were dark and we all knew it but hope was still there. We still could win; we could let the sun shine in all its glory as it did before. Strength and courage were all we needed. Some willing soldiers wouldn't be a bad thing either.

"How dare he abuse his power in such a manner." My father spoke with the fierceness he could not in the court.

"Father, he has no hope. He has no want. His beloved first born is dead and as for Faramir… we still have seen nor heard no news." My eldest brother said as we all marched down the streets, which were clearing out as we walked. My father was not lying when he said the enemy was at our gate. It was true, they had taken over Osgiliath not but 10 miles from Minas Tirith. Faramir was sent by Lord Denethor to reclaim it but everyone including Faramir knew it was suicide. Orcs had overrun and there was no hope for my dear friend Faramir and his brave cavalry. They all were as good as dead. The thought saddened me. When I was young Faramir and I were great friends. He studied with the wizard Gandalf and when I had come to visit my cousins in the city he and I would play. I knew few men who were as great as he was. His passion for his people and his sense of honor and duty were immeasurable. I felt tears come to my eyes but I knew they must not fall. I must remain strong for my family. My three brothers and my father went over strategies to use while I silently walked behind. My mother was with her relatives here in Minas Tirith helping them to prepare for whatever was to come. My mother was a brilliant and very bold woman. I got her traits to the dismay of my father. He was very opinionated when it came to what a woman should do and what a woman shouldn't do. I was a fighter. The blood of my forefathers roared through my veins giving me the desire to serve my king and people. Nothing however displeased him more than the thought of me going into battle. In his mind I was eventually to marry and bear sons to strengthen our allies and keep our bloodlines going. That was one thing I never wanted. The thought of being subject to a man for the rest of my life was like the taste of bile in my mouth. I was too stubborn for that. My mother was different. She was raised to be what she alone desired. My mother also fought by her choice. When she met my father though, things changed and she hung up her sword. I refuse to do so. My brothers had taught me to wield a sword from the time I was but a child. I could fight and my father knew it. He wasn't willing to take the chance on his only daughter it would seem. My want to save our people outweighed my need to obey my father's orders. When war came so would I.

The wizard Gandalf was in the city as well, bringing with him a little Halfling known Pippin. Never in my life had I seen grown man so small. He was only the size of a child, which interested me greatly. Gandalf had hoped that perhaps the appearance of my father would dissuade Denethor's foul mind into doing what was right but sadly it did not work. Minas Tirith could not fall. If this city fell than the orcs would be on their way to Dol Amroth and that could not be allowed to happen. For the time our people there were safe. Well, their fate depends on Minas Tirith's fate.

"Send word to Saladin at Dol Amroth. We fight at Minas Tirith." My father gave my brother Amrothos the order and he immediately left to do it. Gandalf had already lit the beacons to ask for aid from Rohan. We could only pray that they answered. I fear without them we will not survive.

"Lothiriel. This is no place for a lady. Go with your mother into the safety of the mountain." My father's attention was turned to me for a time. My two brothers gave me sorrowful looks knowing they could do nothing against his will. My eyes darted from the map before us to my father's firm face.

"Father please. You know I can help. I can fight." I pleaded keeping myself calm nonetheless.

"No Lothiriel. I will not tell you again. War is no place for a woman. I will see you afterwards… if it goes well." My father's eyes showed the slight hint of fear.

"Go my child." He continued giving me a kiss on my head and embracing me for perhaps the last time. I was then lead out of the room and escorted down the streets to where my mother was. I ran through whatever possible way I could get out. I had to help. I couldn't be sent away to hide like a scared child while brave men went and fought. My heart wouldn't let me. A loud commotion brought me back to earth and to my horror the front gates opened to reveal Faramir's horse dragging his lifeless body back into the city. Two arrows stuck out of his chest and stomach with the unique black heads of the Orcs. His blood glimmered in the fading sun but his face was peaceful. I ran to him pulling away from my escort and dropping on my knees beside his body.

"Faramir!" I cried out taking his hand in mine.

"Please Faramir, live." I continued letting a few tears fall from my eyes. Too many times had I seen brethren and friends perish in the hands of the enemy. Too long had my people been in fear at their hand. Too long have we lived in darkness. I was more determined than ever as I sat there holding my beloved friend's limp hand. I stood when Denethor and the small Pippin rushed down to his body. The crowd was all gathered to see Faramir so I took my opportunity to run. I didn't look back or even think about what I was doing. I could hear nothing aside from my breathing and the pounding memories of friends and family lost in battle. I would fight for them, I would fight for middle earth.