Lothiriel Dol Amroth stood at the train station with the countless others who were there for the same reason she was. Children stood with their mothers, bundled warm against the cold. It was almost Thanksgiving in the year 1918 and everyone awaited this train. It was the last to come through Charlotte and Lothiriel had her whole life coming to home. She looked to her right at her mother, always a picture of pristine lady-likeness, never more modern than necessary. Her mother still clung to the Victorian era of modesty but allowed Lothiriel some freedom to choose her own style. Today for example, her mother wore a royal blue high sitting skirt and simple white blouse that buttoned almost up to her lips, a simple yet elegant brooch and a matching royal blue hat, one of her favorites from before the War. Her hat was pinned to her head with a tasteful pearl and opal matching set of hat pins shoved deep into her pulled up yet gently disheveled hair. Lothiriel on the other hand wore a loose fitting cream dress with a single strand of pearls and her hair down in a loose braid and a royal blue hat that was adorned with a large peacock feather on the side. While her mother wore a heavy grey shawl, Lothiriel wore, instead, a tweed coat mother of pearl buttons. She knew her cheeks were a most unladylike shade of pink but she could not have cared more about the state of her appearance.

She shifted impatiently and thought to ask her mother how much longer it might be but decided against it because she did not particularly want a lecture on how a perfect lady is always patient and never in a hurry. However, to be honest, her mother was just as nervous as she was right now. On this train hopefully were her three brothers, father, and two cousins who had left almost two years ago now. While it was difficult to know for sure all eight of them were on the train there had been no black cars to their house, which was very thankful, but then again news was traveling slowly so it could conceivably only be a matter of time. At long last the slow sad sound of the train whistle was heard in the distance. She reached out to her mother and took her nephew Alphros from her arms.

"Will papa be on the train?" He asked her sweetly as she adjusted his ear muffs. Her nephew was four, bright blue eyes, and a nose that matched her with a slight turn up. His lips were his mothers, full bottom lip but rather thin upper lip; he was as handsome as his father and she hoped that he would grow up to be just as sensible but her desire for adventure.

"I hope so little prince." She kissed his forehead and smoothed down his hair. In a few moments the train station would be overflowing with both joy and sorrow. And, as if it could hold more people, they would all be packed in the confined area hugging, kissing, weeping. These next few moments would be the most emotional moments of her life. She sighed and tried to calm her heart that felt as if it might actually beat out of her chest. Her muscles felt every bit of the anticipation that filled her mind. What if they were hurt so badly they were unable to find work? What if they all did not return? There were so many "what ifs" her mind could not possibly comprehend them all, surely if she tried her brain would simply explode. At last the train pulled in and halted in the station. The shrill whistle blew announcing to anyone in a four block radius that it was in fact here. It was as if all at once the entire platform full of people inhaled their air at once. Then the train began to empty. The dress uniforms of the men ranged in color from a drab olive green of the Army, dress blues or white of the Navy, and the darkest of blues of the Marine uniforms. She searched the many faces of men for her family. At long last she saw the gray eyes that could only belong to a member of the Dol Amroth family. The eyes stood out against the midnight blue of a Marine's uniform protected from the sun by his crisp white hat. All of her brothers and her father were Marines, her cousins too. All of them would be in their dress uniforms like Erchirion was, all of them looking sharp, a little weary, but sharp.

"Lothiriel!" Hearing her name only confirmed what she already knew, Erchirion, her middle brother. She ran as much as she could still holding Alphros in her arms towards him. He caught her in a hug and kissed her hair. "Lothiriel." He took her face in his hands and studied every inch of it as if he might never see it again. As if were only a dream that he was here now and she would be gone in an instant. "Alphros." He kissed the toddler's forehead and tousled his hair.

"Alphros!" Elphir, her eldest brother pushed through the crowd to them. "Alphros."

"Papa!" His chubby little arms pushed against Lothiriel and stretched out to his father all in swift swinging motions. He almost jumped from her arms to get to his father. Lothiriel was concerned Elphir might crush him in their embrace. But she could not know the ache of having to leave a child behind. Poor Elphir she thought for a moment. His wife had died from the Spanish Influenza earlier in the year, and she was given the task of relaying that sad news to him in a letter. She managed to get a hug in and looked around for her mother, who she found rather easily, her hat was pushed back deeply kissing her father. She was secretly proud of her mother for very public display of affection.

"Where is my brother?" Lothiriel asked not having seen her youngest brother Amrothos.

"I'm sure he is around here somewhere." A moment of dread entered her heart. "He was wounded, gunshot to the arm. He's fine only he had to ride in the medical car for observation."

"Behind you." She turned quickly with a shriek. Knowing your brother is hurt and seeing it for yourself are two very different things. Lothiriel couldn't help but stare at his bandaged hand in a sling.

"Oh just a gunshot wound, nothing to worry over." Amrothos managed to pull her into a tight hug with his one good arm. "Don't fret, I'll be able to chase you around the garden by spring."

"Well that is comforting, but where are Faramir and Boromir?"

"Faramir is here." A tall auburn haired man said pushing past her brothers and embracing her tightly. "And he has dearly missed his favorite cousin. By George you are not the girl I left home but a beautiful young lady." Throwing her arms around his neck he spun her around and kissed her square on the mouth. "You must be beating all of those silly boys off with a stick."

"You mean all of these men?" She gestured to the platform full of recently returned men.

"Fair enough." He replied with a hearty chuckle.

"Are we ready?" Her father asked as he approached his children.

"Yes I think we are." Faramir said assessing the group.

"What about Boromir?" She almost pleaded scanning the faces of those still pouring off of the trains.

"Lothiriel, Boromir, he, well he will not be coming home." Erchirion said as soothingly as possible. He smoothed her hair down around her ears and then tucked her longer bangs behind her ear then readjusted her hat. Despite all of her happiness, this one thing dampened her mood. She felt as if all the joy had been sucked out of her heart. "We will answer all of your questions but not here." Her family began to file towards their family cars she looked back, hoping to see Boromir leaving a train, rushing to catch up with them. His mouse brown hair parted to the left in a swoop as he had always worn in; hat waving as if to get their attention. But he was not there; he was not in the throng of people. He was lost to oblivion, without a goodbye, without a final "I love you"; simply gone. But she did see something she thought very strange, a woman dressed in army green; her eyes were blue like ice her hair was cut short angled around her face. Lothiriel did not have much time to study this woman before she was drug away by her family.

Amrothos had tried to cheer her up, since he was the family clown he did his best. Now that everyone was home so many good things could begin to happen, they could begin rebuilding their lives. She could return to school in the fall and Alphros would go to school. Her brothers would find wives and have their own children, she would find a husband and run her own family someday too. Her tears were cold against her cheeks as the wind swept around them. She could not tell which emotion was strongest, joy that her family had returned or sorrow that one member was missing. The automobile ride back to her family's house was long and mostly in silence. She was far too afraid to speak, however she did sit holding Erchirion's hand in hers without her kid skin gloves to keep her fingers warm.

"He died bravely they say." Faramir said looking at her across the car.

"Please, I don't know that I want to talk about it just yet." Lothiriel reached up and wiped the tears from her face.

"Lothiriel, we have to talk about it sometime." Elphir retorted gruffly. That was easy for him to say. He was happily holding his son in his lap.

"His company tried to take No Man's Land. They really led the way for a decisive victory." Faramir continued. Once the story was over the car again dropped to silence. She looked out her window at Charlotte as they passed through the city. The whole place was bathed in a happy air, even as the workers began to illuminate the gas lamps on the streets she knew that this moment, this night was one of the most beautiful of her life. When they turned onto their street she breathed a sigh of relief. At long last her house would not feel like an empty tomb waiting for more dead to occupy the rooms. It would now be devoid of silence; she loved the sound of a full house, and the sound their cobble stone driveway made under the tires. Lothiriel did not even wait for the footman to help her out of the car, she simply jumped from it her heels clacking against the stones. The servants were lined up along the walkway ready to greet the long displaced family members. While these people were employed by her family they were just as much a part of it as she was. The had been such great support while her family was away. Her girl, Roxie, was about her age and had played the most marvelous games with her when they were children; they learned to read and paint and do all manner of childhood things together.

"Welcome home sir." Geoffrey their butler said shaking her father's hand and clapping him on the shoulder. "You have been thoroughly missed." Geoffrey was in his late fifties and kept his beard on the longer side. At some point, Lothiriel was not sure when, but his beard had changed from salt and pepper to just white. She thought it looked good on him. He proceeded to greet each member in a similar fashion, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the young female help fawned over the strapping young men that walked in behind her.

"Faramir, will you be staying with us tonight?" Her mother asked warmly.

"Yes, if that is alright. May I stay for a while? I don't particularly want to live in that big house all alone."

"Of course darling! You may stay as long as you like. Tomorrow I'll send some of the help over to put dust covers on everything." She paused for a moment with a pensive look. "As to not put them totally out of a job why don't we have some of your father's help come here and work; maybe put them on an every other week schedule or something. All of that can be dealt with at a later time though." Mrs. Dol Amroth was a woman not outside of her means. She was highly intelligent and cunning. In her day she had been quite an attractive woman too, so for her it was relatively easy to snag Imrahil Dol Amroth. To hear her parents tell it they were very much in love and since they were both born of affluent families it seemed a perfect match from the start. As a mother Isobelle Dol Amroth was perfection, both stern and gentle. She held her children's attention in a great story and sang them to sleep during sickness. In everything she turned to her husband for guidance and approval. Lothiriel looked up to her mother as a model for a sophisticated woman. She was the picture of civility and charity; although what she was doing for Faramir came from much further down than charity; he was her nephew, and by all accounts just another one of her boys. Unlike many of the other women from the upper crust her mother's age she always tried to be genuine; of course there were always moments when one had to be polite but she was never one to gravitate towards gossip circles that were so prevalent in society.

"Thank you so much. Of course the lawns people can stay on at my place, we will always need them there. My mother would come back from the grave if she knew I let the lawn go. You know how much she loved her garden." Isobelle nodded, it was a staple in the family that one did not simply allow their lawn to become overgrown and disheveled. There had also always been a friendly rivalry between her father and his sister, Faramir's mother, over who had the best looking lawn and gardens.

Once inside the help took Lothiriel's brothers effects to their appointed rooms the house began to take on a rhythm it was accustomed to. The bustle of children from the upper crust, never sleeping in silence, always waiting for the next biggest thing to happen; that is what Lothiriel's life had always been and there truly was no escaping that. She sighed contentedly as she settled on the cornflower blue chaise in the parlor and picked up a book. Alphros was playing in the cutest manner on the floor with Elphir who was undoubtedly trying to make up for lost time. He would find a new wife in no time, hopefully one who wasn't one of the true society girls who was all about appearances. Dinner would be ready soon and the family would sit down to its first formal meal together in a number of years. Lothiriel's excitement at being a family again kept her from truly focusing on the book in her hands, she read the same paragraph nearly six times.

At last they were called in for dinner. She sat between Erchirion and Faramir, which was perfect for her. The family seemed to understand that tomorrow they would dwell on not having Boromir among them and Penelope, Elphir's late wife, but for now they were simply rejoicing at all being present together. Just when they were approaching their second course the doorbell gave a shrill cry. A few moments later Geoffrey came into the dinning room, his suit ever crisp and sharp.

"I apologize for disturbing you sir, but a card just came from the Mayor, he would like to know if you and your family would attend a small gala at his home tomorrow at 7:30." Geoffrey had this way of speaking in very short phrases which sometimes annoyed Lothiriel but currently she found it endearing. A gala would be fantastic, great fun, dancing with her brothers and cousin, a well-deserved party.

"Please send the messenger back with an acceptance to the invitation. Dol Amroth 6, Ithilian 1." Her father said, his mouth formed a hard line when discussing Faramir. He did not seem too pleased that he was all alone now. When Geoffrey left every seemed to talk all at once. "Lothiriel," her father rarely addressed her so properly, "do you have a suitable dress for tomorrow?" She in fact did have one that she had not yet worn.

"Yes papa, it was supposed to be my coming out dress, but since all of those festivities were canceled I never had the opportunity to wear it." She thought about that dress hanging in its silken bag. It was dark blue, almost the color of her brother's uniforms, trimmed in a fine silver lace with a few pearls littering the neckline and bodice.

"Fantastic." He roared. "You boys will have to don your uniforms again. And what about you my dear?" His face turned to his wife. "Do you have something?" She nodded while lifting some baked chicken to her lips.

"We shall be a lovely group tomorrow then for sure." Lothiriel had always believed that her family was one of the most beautiful in all of Charlotte, tomorrow would be the true test of that. As she was thinking of beauty her mind traveled back to the woman at the train station. Would she be there tomorrow? Who was she? How did she become a member of a male only profession? They were served sweet apple tart for dessert. She enjoyed watching Elphir try to help Alphros eat and he certainly struggled with it. She wanted to help them but knew this was their time to work on the relationships that had been missed. They also all needed to touch up the rusty dancing skills. It is a funny thing about war, there seems very little to dance while those you love are away. Her father suggested that they retire to the parlor where he cranked up their old Victrola and played a few disks.

"Lotie I assume that you are the reason for this more modern jibberish?" He winked at her though his face showed scorn. Despite his obvious curiosity he pulled a more classical vinyl disk. Amrothos was the first to grab her waist and despite his wounded arm, sent her whirling around the room in a fast waltz. Soon her father scooped up her mother and they were dancing too. Lothiriel had the opportunity to dance with all of her brothers and even Alphros. It was almost midnight when they all finally retired to their bedrooms. Her room was warmed by a few logs in the fire place. Her personal help Roxie was poking at it to keep it going.

"You can take off tonight if you'd like. I can manage on my own."

"Yes ma'am, thank you." Roxie headed for the door.

"Wait Roxie," Lothiriel caught her by the elbow, "did your brother come home today?" Roxie's blank expression faded and her mouth pulled down further than Lothiriel even knew someone's could. "Oh I'm so sorry Roxie. Go on home dear. I shouldn't need you until around lunch time tomorrow and once I leave, you're more than welcome to go back home." Instinctively she pulled Roxie into a hug and then kissed her on the cheek before she let her go. "Give your mother a hug for me." Roxie's mother had been her tutor and nurse when she was little, but now she was really too old to do work, but the rest of Roxie's sisters and her brother had been employed by her family.

"Thank you Misses Lothiriel." Roxie ducked out of her room. Lothiriel sighed and slipped out of dress she had worn that day. Then in only her wisp of a slip she opened her wardrobe and pulled out the silk bag that was stuffed at the back. She untied the ribbons and let the bag fall to the floor and her dress flutter out into the open space. It needed to air out and let some of the creases uncrease so Roxie wouldn't have so much steaming to do tomorrow. It was still a beautiful dress despite the fact that it was two years old; it still smelled mildly like the dress shop she bought it from. Poor Roxie, the thought had hardly crossed her mind when she remembered Boromir. She pulled on her thick robe and climbed the stairs to the third floor then the fourth and out the window at the end of the hall onto the balcony.

"What took you so long?" Faramir was sitting with his back against the house.

"I was talking to Roxie."

"Sent her home early?" She nodded and sat down next to him.

"How did it happen?"

"I don't know kid, I wasn't there. We got separated, well the Marines split us up. I got a telegram the next day. I got into some fights because I wanted to go get his body, I wanted find him, pull him out of that hell. We've got nothing to bury, we'll just put a headstone up for him." Lothiriel didn't realize she had stopped breathing until she sharply inhaled making a squeaking noise. Fumbling with her robe she finally located her cigarette case and book of matches. She lit one and took a long drag off of it. Smoking kept her from having to talk about this situation. Her cousin lying on some foreign field, some French family's back yard, rotting with hundreds of thousands of others, men whose lives would never be the same because like her there would forever be a void that no one could fill. Their lives would be defined by the "what ifs"; what if he came home, had kids, who would they have been? How would it have changed her life? Would one of her brothers have died to meet some quota of some Fate? It was all so useless. Then suddenly she felt a raging storm of hatred. Her mother always said "do not hate Lothiriel, it makes you age early." But right now she really just wanted to be angry. She would never be able to mourn the loss of Boromir. The poor could take a few days to cry then come to terms with their loss, but tomorrow she and her family would put on a face and go celebrate the return of a few, but never give credence to those who did not make the boat ride home.

"When did that start?" Faramir asked breaking her free from whatever she was thinking.

"Right after you all left. You know I adore mother but she can be a bit overwhelming when there are not three other children to use as buffers." He seemed to understand or at least not want to push the subject. "Mostly it gives me something to do."

"I'm looking forward to tomorrow night." She turned her head to him, what a strange change of topic, abrupt no less.

"And why is that?" She cooed, she was curious and she knew he was baiting her.

"I'm supposed to meet someone there; someone special. I hope you like her." Lothiriel could not help but snap her head back at him. Of all the things she expected him to say that was not one of them. "Don't look so surprised. You act like I'm Amrothos, or something." Then Faramir did the strangest thing, he giggled.

"Who are you exactly? And how does one meet a woman who will be at the Mayor's house, in war torn Europe?" She flicked her cigarette butt over the edge of the balcony.

"I'm your dearest cousin and I'll tell you that story after you meet her. I don't want you going into this with any preconceived notions about who she is or what she is like." Lothiriel tried not to roll her eyes and yet was sorry that they were sitting in darkness since the gesture would have been utterly wasted.

"You're too much sometimes, you know that?" She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Now I'm chilled to my bones, so I am going to lay in my soft warm bed. I am seriously considering a very lazy day tomorrow." She stood and stretched then very happily walked back inside closing the French doors behind her.