Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and the characters of the saga is property of JRR Tolkien and his descendents. I have no claims to any of the canon characters mentioned and no profit was made from the release of this story.
Chapter One
The war of rings had ended and by the hands of two courageous hobbits and the last and final alliance of men and elves, the dark lord Sauron was finally defeated to never rise again. The darkness that griped middle earth was finally released and in its place were happiness, singing, and hope. A new era had dawn upon Middle Earth. The time of elves had ended and the age of men was beginning and in the land of Gondor, the most majestic and powerful of all land to be owned by men, celebrations were in hand. King Elessar had returned to claim his throne, fulfilling the prophecy that Gondor will regain its full valor under him and with him, along with the blessings of Lord Elrond, keeper of the Vilya, Ring of Air and Lady Galadriel of the Light, keeper of the Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, he also brought the most beautiful jewel to ever grace the lands of Adar since the Silmarils, Arwen Udomiel as his wife and Queen of Gondor and all the lands unified under it. Friends from far and wide had been invited to attend the wedding, and among them were none other than the fellowship, and the two lords of men that had fought fearlessly by his side, King Éomer of the Mark and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth.
It was three days before the wedding and two days after inauguration of Aragorn as King Elessar of Gondor. Lord Faramir had been installed as the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien and Lady Éowyn of the Mark as his betrothed. Things were pleasant in the halls of King Elessar's palace and at this moment of the story, that is where we find them, friends and lovers seated tranquilly in each other's company quite full from the peacock wonderfully served by the experts of Gondor's kitchen.
"Your majesty, your chefs have indeed out done themselves, I fear that I may never leave my chair again," Prince Imrahil said, falling back into his chair a placid smile on his lips.
"I agree with Imrahil. Aragorn, a few more days like this and I may need two horses to carry me back to Rohan," added King Éomer. His words were greeted with laughter. Aragorn looked at the two and shook his head.
"Aye, that would be most unfortunate. So be it, tomorrow early dawn, I challenge the King of Mark and Prince of Dol Amroth to a battle of swords," said Aragorn, his face serious, but the light in his eyes betraying his words. The two lords turned an evil eye on the new King.
"You are cruel, Aragorn. You have put us in a tight corner. To not accept would strip us of any dignity in front of the fair ladies present and to accept would probably land us in the house of healing," grumbled Éomer darkly, but received only a smirk from Elessar.
"I am only glad my daughter is not here to witness her father waylaid so helplessly by a roasted peacock," said Imrahil, his complacent mood not the least swayed by his king's challenge. His words caused another war hero to suddenly perk up and turn away from the eyes of his love.
"Uncle, have you sent word to Dol Amroth of our victory?" came the calm voice of the Steward. Imrahil looked at his nephew and couldn't help but smile as he watched the man glow under the love of Lady Éowyn.
"Lothíriel would have my hide if I had forgotten. Aye, a messenger left but two days ago. I believe the message should have reached her by now," said Prince Imrahil, his smile growing broader at the thought of finally seeing his daughter again. It had nearly broken his heart to part with her, to see her hold back her tears and stay strong for him, neither one of them knowing if they'll ever see each other again. But Faramir was not finished. In fact, his face clouded a little.
"Uncle, are you expecting Lothíriel, then?' he asked. His uncle shook his head.
"Nay, I have asked her to wait for my arrival, at the least," he replied. Faramir then broke into a small grin.
"Well, I believe you should then," he replied simply. This time it was his uncle's turn to look confuse. Everybody else had focused between the two, trying to decipher Faramir's cryptic words. Éowyn too looked wonderingly at Faramir, but he did not take his eyes away from Imrahil. He watched the confusion from his uncle's face clear to be replaced with shock and then horror. With a start he leapt up from his chair his full stomach completely forgotten.
"My King, I must go," said Imrahil and made a move that was part bowing and part running out the door. But Aragorn stood up and placed a halting arm on his friend.
"Imrahil, what is the matter? Is your daughter in trouble? Do you require assistance? Faramir what is the meaning of your words?" asked Aragorn, his voice concerned. At his words of offering assistance, Éomer too stood up. He and Imrahil had become tight friends and he would travel to the ends of Middle Earth if his friend required it. But Imrahil shook his head.
"Nay, she isn't… at least I pray she isn't," said Imrahil hoping that was sufficient enough for Aragorn to release him but Aragorn held fast. Sighing loudly, Imrahil turned his gaze to the windows; one of them occupied by Legolas, for the elf had seen something in the far distant but needed confirmation.
"My nephew has just reminded me that I do not have the fortune of siring a docile daughter," said Imrahil. Aragorn and Éomer exchanged confused looks and Faramir suddenly released a short laugh before covering his mouth.
"Pray you do not share my fate, boy," warned Imrahil forebodingly to Faramir then turned to his two friends.
"I have a feeling that my daughter is on her way here, most probably unescorted and unarmed," he finished, his tone taking a desperate turn as the thought rushed through his head. He had to leave immediately and perhaps he would be able to meet her half way. Aye, that girl would one day be the death of him!
"Then we must hurry. We may still meet her half way and before any dangers crosses her path," said Gimli, speaking for the first time. The four hobbits also quickly got to their feet. Faramir still smiling got to his feet as well. But Legolas's words stopped them.
"Prince Imrahil, does your daughter share your elven traits?" he asked. Imrahil nodded. Yes, his daughter was the splitting image of his forefathers, and in some ways the elven blood was stronger in her than him.
"Then I bid you gentlemen to remain in your seats as she has arrived and happily I say she is escorted by two soldiers and looks to be safe," he said his tone more than amused. Imrahil rushed to stand beside the elf. He just barely made out three horse ridden figures galloping through the seven gates of Gondor, and no doubt the rider leading the trio with her midnight black hair streaming behind her and her dress hiked up dangerously above her ankles was his daughter, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Aragorn and Éomer came to stand next to Imrahil and Legolas.
"Prince Legolas speaks the truth. She is here and all we can do is wait," he said tiredly but with immense relief.
"Then come my lords, return to your seats. It is a beautiful thing, a daughter's reunion with her father," came the gentle voice of Arwen, masterfully disguising her pain of never being able to see her father again. All except Imrahil returned to their seats and Aragorn quietly whispered something to a servant standing ready to do the king's bidding. The man nodded and left the room. Imrahil followed the exit of the servant and left his gaze there, anticipating the arrival of his daughter. Mentally he was imagining how he would punish his stubborn daughter for acting impulsively and putting herself in danger and not to mention scaring ten years of his life. But when a tall lady clad in sea blue with matching eyes and a tan complexion rushed into the room, all thoughts of reprimands disappeared and with a huge smile he opened his arms to her. A strangled cry escaped her trembling lips before she flung herself into his arms and threatened to cut his breathing ability by hugging him tightly. He tightened his grip around her waist and kissed the top of her head. He could feel wet marks at the base of his neck and pulled her so he could look at her face. Her eyes were wet but her jaw did not tremble. A weakling she was not, and she was his pillar of strength for the past dark days.
"Father, you are well," she said before hugging him again which her father returned willingly.
"Yes, I am well. My daughter, why could you have not waited to join me? Or at least assembled a larger group?" he said softly, not a trace of anger in his voice. Now that she was safe in his arms, he looked on her act with amusement.
Lothíriel buried her face deep in her father's tunic. She inhaled his scent, it was the smell of the sea and she was grateful to smell it again. All the nights staying awake in fear and anxiety and the horror that clutched her heart every time a messenger sought her audience seeped away with the receding darkness. Her shoulders felt light with the lifting of her burden. And she was more than relieved that her father did not appear angered by her sudden and risky arrival.
"Do not be angry, father. I couldn't wait. When I heard you had appeared victorious and were well, I had to come," she replied lifting her head to look at him. He smiled and kissed her on her forehead. She closed her eyes and relished the feel of his fatherly love. Suddenly, she became aware of the situation and more than naught, that she had entered the realm of another lord without asking for leave. She quickly pulled away and quickly scanned the head table, but with the fleeting glance she couldn't figure out to whom her allegiance belonged too. Was it the dark headed man with his wise eyes and powerful complexion or was it the blond man whose hair flowed strong and shiny down his back and the traces of stubbles lining his masculine jaw? She couldn't decide for they both seem to emanate a sense of power and leadership. But her father put her fears to rest.
"King Elessar, I present to you my daughter, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel, our lord and liege, King Elessar," said Imrahil, presenting his daughter to the king. Lothíriel curtsied low.
"King Elessar, I am but your humble servant and I would ask for your forgiveness for my unexpected arrival, I bear no hostile feelings, and hope that I have not offended," she said demurely, her eyes fixed on a point at his feet.
"Princess Lothíriel, no apologies are in due. I understand and am glad that you are safe, and most assuredly, your presence is more than welcomed here in Minas Tirinth," said Aragorn, trying to make the younger girl look at him. But she kept her eyes fixed to the ground.
"Thank you for your kind words, my King, you are as kind as songs have described, if not kinder," she said and this time, she looked up into his face. A strong face with justice in his eyes. Gondor will heal under his rule, she thought. She was then introduced to the future queen of Gondor and had momentarily lost her ability for speech as she beheld the beauty of Udomiel.
"My lady, I am honored," she said, and curtseyed again. I am the image of an orc next to her, she thought. As if sensing her thoughts, Arwen laughed and placed a chaste kiss onto her redden cheeks.
"Your father speaks greatly of your beauty, I am honored to see it myself," she said and Lothíriel's cheeks redden even more, but she returned her future queen's smile. Imrahil gave her a doting look before taking her hand into his.
"Daughter, here, I wish you to meet a man blessed with strength and great loyalty. If it weren't for him guarding my back, I would be but a lost cause," her father's voice broke into her mind. She turned to him and saw him standing next to the blond man, who if she was not mistaken, had turned a shade of pink.
"Éomer, my daughter Lothíriel. Daughter, King Éomer of the Mark," he said. Once again, she dropped into a low curtsy.
"King Éomer, I thank you for looking after my father and you have my undying gratitude. If you are to ever require my assistance, please do not be hesitant to ask, and even then I doubt I would be able to repay you," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She wanted to say more but couldn't trust herself to not burst into tears. Much to his sister's amusement, Éomer blushed harder and only managed to stammer a quiet 'you're welcome' and 'that won't be necessary'. Lothíriel looked at him and smiled and he smiled back.
"Cousin, are you so in awe of the two kings that I am no longer important to you and you have just passed me by without a second glancing?" said another voice behind her. Lothíriel's eyes widen. She would recognize that voice in her sleep. She turned to face Faramir, who grinned at her. Forgetting that she was supposed to be a princess of breeding and decorum, she bounced off her feet and into his arms, nearly knocking him over in the process.
"Faramir! How can you say such a thing!" she cried and pulled away from him although not releasing her hold on him. He too, in response kept his arms around her waist. The two smiled contentedly at each other with a familiarity bred from many years of spending time together. However, they were interrupted by a soft yet stern cough. Faramir turned and much to Lothíriel's surprise his face lit up like never before. She turned to the lady standing next to him and immediately recognized the glint in her eyes. It was the same glint so many other ladies of the court had given her if she so much as talked to their men. Quickly she released her hold of him and took a small step away. Faramir chuckled at the two ladies before wrapping Éowyn's fingers around his forearm.
"Riel, this Éowyn," he introduced the two ladies.
"His betrothed," she added her tone a little hard. Unknowingly to anyone and themselves, Éomer and Imrahil held their breaths. Éowyn was known to guard well what was hers and Lothíriel was not known to respond well to cold tones. But Lothíriel held no offense. It wasn't this son Denethor that held her heart.
"Then we are almost like sisters, for Faramir is dear as a brother to me," she said brightly and engulfed the other lady into a hug and when they pulled away, Éowyn, surprised at first, was smiling, Lothíriel's words placating her and both Imrahil and Éomer sighed with relief. Lothíriel turned a cheeky grin to her cousin.
"So it seems cousin, you're lone days are over. You can no longer hide in your forest anymore but must now join the company of people," she teased. Faramir just laughed at her words.
"And to what does Boromir say to all this? And where is Boro..." she stopped in the process of turning. Her elation dropped in a sickening thud at her feet and she felt like someone had thrown bucket of freezing water over her head. She shivered and it seemed in her eyes that the world had just gotten a little dimmer. No one will ever know what Boromir has to say. But she turned back to Faramir with a calm face.
"Forgive me, cousin. I … it…" her words began to tremble and to her horror her cousin's face blurred as tears filled up her eyes. She didn't protest when Faramir pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently, whispering comforting words into her ears. She clung to him and the tears that she had tried so hard to keep from falling began to fall freely down her cheeks. Her chest tightened in pain and in her mind visions of Boromir laughing and teasing her flashed by. She would never see him smile again. Her shoulders racked violently as she sobbed into his tunic.
At the table, Merry and Pippin held their heads down, silently saying a prayer for their departed friend. They would never forget how brave Boromir had been and how he had saved their lives at the cost of his own. And because of that, the pain or gratefulness would never leave them. In the eyes of the two hobbits, no one was braver or better than their friend Boromir. And they weren't the only ones. Each and everyone of the Fellowship, even Frodo, regretted the passing of Boromir and in their hearts, they carried him always.
Eventually, Lothíriel ceased her crying and pulled away from her cousin.
"Forgive my sudden outburst. I couldn't bring it in me to believe he was gone but now standing here, reality has told otherwise. I could never mourn him properly before as there was too much threat that kept me constantly occupied," she began to the crowd. Aragorn stepped forward and took her hands in his.
"We share your sentiments, lady Lothíriel. Boromir was a dear friend to all of us, and we too mourn his loss. So please don't apologize for your grief but instead allow us to share it with the hope of easing the pain a little," he said and through her tears that had resumed its flow, Lothíriel smiled at her king and there and then in her heart pledged herself to him and willing go to the fall of Gondor if asked. A tugging at her skirts made her look down to the two men standing no taller than her waist. If it weren't for the aged lines on their faces and the grief and experience in their eyes she would have easily mistaken them for children.
"My Lady, our words may only cause you more grief, but we think you should know that Boromir fell defending us. He died slaying no less than 20 orcs by himself," said the one who had pulled her skirt.
"Aye, he saved our lives," said the other next to him. She knelt down and looked at them. It was written so plainly on their faces of their sadness. And because of this she braved her heart and gave them each a smile.
"Your words have not caused me any pain, little ones. Instead, you have eased my pain a little, for now I know that Boromir died as he had wished too, defending those dear to his heart. I believe he would not have had it any other way," she said. The two smiled at her before one of them suddenly bowed.
"Oh, my lady, forgive us, I am Merry and this is Pippin. Over there are our fellow hobbits, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee," he said. Lothíriel shook hands and traded some words with the four, and unknowingly to them, their simplicity and care for life cheered her up tremendously.
"And have you forgotten about us, little hobbits?" a gruff voice interrupted them and Lothíriel found herself looking in the piercing eyes of a dwarf.
"Gimli of Moria at your service my lady," said the dwarf bowing low. Lothíriel returned it with a curtsy.
"Tis a pleasure Master Gimli, and I am greatly honored," she replied and the shorter man glowed at her. Then another being came to stand by him.
"And I am Legolas of Greenwood the Great," he said, bowing at her. Lothíriel curtsied again but could not tear her eyes away from him. He is so handsome, she gushed inwardly. She had met elves before, as her father was of that line although many times removed, but not once had she beheld such fair beauty as this one. Even the Rivendell twins held no torch to him.
"My lady, the blood of elves flows strongly within you. I do not sense much in your father but in you it is overwhelming," he said staring intently at her. Lothíriel blushed under his gaze.
"Yes, I have been told that. But I must tell you, my elven blood only ends with the physical features for inside I have neither the wisdom of the elder nor the grace of one. I am very much the race of man, clumsy feet and all" she said. Legolas looked at her a little more before taking her hand and kissing the back of it murmuring so only she could hear,
"But never have such clumsy feet looked so pretty," and Lothíriel blushed harder. Imrahil, who had watched the exchange, was not at all amused with the elf. He admitted he would trust the elf with his life, but he drew a limit when it came to his daughter. Well, if he were to really admit it, he drew a line at any male, man or elf when it came to Lothíriel. Unknown to him, Aragorn had read his friends facial expression and felt obliged to prevent Legolas from being the receiving end of a Dol Amroth blade.
"Princess Lothíriel, I'm sure the trip from Dol Amroth had been hard. Perhaps you would like to freshen up before dinner?" asked Aragorn, ignoring Éomer's strangled look. Although he understood the King of Mark's perdition, after that heavy lunch, the thought of eating anytime soon send his stomach into a queasy frenzy.
"Yes Lothíriel, go freshen up and have a change of clothes. You look more like the daughter of a peasant than a princess," said Imrahil, his tone stern and brow furrowed, but it was said out of love rather than disdain. However, instead of doing as she was told, Lothíriel looked around her, her eyes wide and laced with despair while her face clouded in embarrassment.
Oh, she is in much trouble. How could she have forgotten to bring a change of clothes? A princess who did not have anything suitable to wear. She has shamed her father and her country in front of all these strangers. Think fast Riel, an excuse. But no words came to her mind, instead all she could do was look around, no doubt resembling a lost lamb.
"Lothíriel?" her father's voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up at him, about to explain and apologize… again, she seemed to be doing a lot of that ever since she got to Gondor, when Lady Arwen got up to her feet.
"Of course, lady Lothíriel, you do not know where your chambers are. May I offer my assistance and show you to your room?" said Lady Arwen, smiling at Lothíriel. Lothíriel sighed and could have kissed Lady Arwen's feet there and then. She nodded and flashed a grateful smile.
"If you would excuse us, come lady Lothíriel," said Lady Arwen, curtseying beautifully to the others before leading Lothíriel out of the hall. Once the two were out of hearing range, Lothíriel turned to Arwen.
"My Lady, I thank you for coming to my rescue. I am ashamed to say that in my haste to see my father, I had forgotten the need to bring extra clothes," she said, her head down. What must lady Arwen think of me? She thought. But Arwen tipped her face up so they were looking at each other.
"There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Your intentions were noble and it came from your love for your father. Never ask for forgiveness for loving so much and so hard, that the rest of the world doesn't seem important. Because they aren't," she said and her words along with her comforting words soothed Lothíriel's turbulent being. She nodded and smiled.
"Thank you. My lady wouldn't by any chance know a seamstress with dresses to spare would you?" she asked meekly. Lady Arwen turned once more to her and gave her a one over.
"I have something better in mind. This way," she said and began walking in a different direction, a sense of purpose giving pace to her steps. Despite her long legs, Lothíriel had to run a little to keep up and silently she marveled at the grace of Lady Arwen. She had half a mind to ask the lady if she was walking or floating. Suddenly Lady Arwen stopped in front of a set of oak doors, carved with the skill of the elves of old. Lady Arwen pushed aside the door and beckoned for Lothíriel to follow her in. Once inside, Lothíriel gasped at the beauty of the room. She felt like she had entered another realm. The motif was of floral and silk a contrast to the hard stone outside.
"Lothíriel, come," said Lady Arwen from behind another set of doors. Lothíriel joined Arwen and gazed into the cupboard. There were so many clothes hanging that she wondered it didn't spill out of the doors. And she could swear that all the colors known to man were in that closet. She couldn't help but touch one of the fabrics. It was like water in her hands, smooth and silky as it slipped through her fingers. The dress was the color of the sea, not like the one she was wearing, but it was the color of when shallow meets deep, not green yet not deep blue and not turquoise either.
"You have wonderful taste Lady Lothíriel, but I do not think it would be appropriate for dinner. I suggest this instead," said Lady Arwen and she reached deep into the cupboard to draw out a lavender dress. It was of simple cutting, with a wide mouth sleeve and a low waist, but like the dress Lothíriel had touched earlier, it was of the finest silk and that itself gave beauty to the simple dress.
"I'm afraid I do not understand? Is my lady asking my approval for what she will wear tonight?" asked Lothíriel truly confused. Why was Lady Arwen asking her for her opinion? Lothíriel almost had no fashion sense, and would be a mess if it weren't for her patient lady in waitings. Lady Arwen laughed, and music filled up the room. Lothíriel could've sworn the room lit up when she had laughed.
"No, I am not asking you to choose a dress for me, but I would like Lady Lothíriel to choose a dress for herself," said Lady Arwen. Lothíriel's eyes widen.
"No my lady, please I couldn't possibly wear one of your dresses. I thank you, Lady Arwen, but I would end up soiling it and it is such a beautiful dress," said Lothíriel slowly backing up towards the door. Arwen did not loose her smile and in fact seemed amused by Lothíriel's reluctance. Well, she wanted Lothíriel to wear her dress and that was it. She caught Lothíriel's arm and looped it in hers, holding the dress in the other arm. With the two held tightly in her arms, she left the room. Out of nowhere two other ladies appeared. Lady Arwen exchanged words with them in Elvish and handed the dress to one of the lady.
"I have taken care of it all, Lady Lothíriel. Now I shall take you to your room where you shall have a much deserved rest," said Lady Arwen and her tone left no place for arguing. Not that Lothíriel could as she could feel her lips involuntarily clamp shut together. Finally, Lady Arwen led her into a bedroom. It wasn't as beautifully decorated as Lady Arwen's but it was still beautiful.
"You shall rest so that tonight you will be fresh to enjoy all Gondor can offer," said Arwen smiling at Lothíriel stunned look.
"Aye, thank you Lady Arwen, I am truly grateful to you. I would be lost if you hadn't helped me," said Lothíriel, curtsying low. To her surprise Lady Arwen pulled her up and hugged her tight.
"Sleep well," she said and in a blink she was gone leaving Lothíriel alone in the room. Fatigue washed over her and the two days of hard riding finally made their presence known. With a huge effort, Lothíriel dragged herself to the huge bed in the middle of the room. Slowly she laid her body to rest on the soft mattress; a voice somewhere in her head telling her to disrobe for the dirt on her clothes would soil the white sheets. But the minute her head touched the pillows, all thoughts left her and for the first time in ages, Lady Lothíriel was able to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.
"Lady Lothíriel," a soft voice broke into her sleep and with a start Lothíriel sat up, her eyes wide with fright. Memories of the times when she had been woken up to receive news of more deaths and raids on her people came back with full force and she turned her frightened eyes to the lady in waiting hovering over her, expecting to hear the same from her. Instead, words of comfort were offered to her.
"My Lady, it is only I Lissesül, Lady Arwen's maid. I have come to help you prepare for dinner, my lady," she said a warm smile on her lips. The words steadied Lothíriel's pounding heart and she remembered that it was over. The pain, the deaths, the war. She was safe and more importantly her father was safe. A sudden longing to see him overwhelmed her and she quickly got to her feet and allowed the handmaiden to wash and dress her. Her only complaint was when Lissesül wouldn't allow her to wear her hair the way she had always; practical and out of her face.
"My lady, you will be in the presence of the Lords of Middle Earth and the Steward of Gondor. I must insist that you present yourself worthy of your title," said Lissesül sternly. Lothíriel knew the truth of her words and grudgingly gave her consent. Only when Lissesül had completed her task, did she allow Lothíriel to look into the mirror. She smiled at what she saw. Arwen's dress had been a little tight especially at the top and because of her height, the neckline which would have been acceptable for Arwen was unacceptable for her as it exposed a little too much of the top of her breast. The dress also clung tightly to her narrow waist before flaring out around her hips, her curves accentuated even more by the low cut of the waist line. Only her sleeves were wide that the shape of her arms was hidden in its big folds. Her hair was pushed back from her hair, and secured with pearls clips (also from Arwen) and let loose down her back, in curls that bounced gracefully at her every move. Now she truly looked like the Princess of Dol Amroth.
"Lissesül you are a wonder. Even my father would not believe this is his daughter," she said wryly. She could just imagine the look on her father when he saw her. Especially with her low neckline and tight middle. This should indeed be interesting.
"Thank you, your highness. I believe they are waiting for you at the King's parlor," said Lissesül. Lothíriel gave her one last smile and left her chambers. Lissesül had briefly directed her on how to get to the parlor so she was quite alright walking unescorted. And as she walked down the grand halls of King Elessar's palace, she couldn't help but notice the attention she was receiving from the soldiers. Oh yes, this should be very interesting.
Prince Imrahil downed another of Gondor's fine brewery before resuming his pacing. Aragorn looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow.
"Imrahil, cease your pacing you are giving me a headache," said Éomer, his words mirroring Aragorn's thoughts.
"Why don't you tell us news of Dol Amroth? You have spent nearly the entire afternoon with your two soldiers," said the young king again hoping it would placate his friend.
"Dol Amroth is doing well. News of our victory had raised the hopes of my people and fueled strength to my men. Our borders are more than protected and the lands safe again, and my sons are on their way home" he replied and a small smile flitted through his lips. It would be good to return home again.
"So what worries you?" asked Aragorn.
"It is Lothíriel. The two who escorted her informed me that she had taken off immediately after receiving news. All she brought was the cloth on her back and if the two men had not been fast in mounting their horses, she would have arrived here alone," said Imrahil sighing loudly. He loved Lothíriel very much and her strength and individuality only made him adore her even more, but there were occasions when he wished she was the sweet tempered princess, like those he had heard so much in folklores.
"It is a dream for me to present my daughter to the King of Gondor one day and now that the day has arrived and not only to the Gondor king but also the King of Mark, my daughter looks like a Lady of the Swine and not the Lady of Dol Amroth," he continued, rolling his eyes. Aragorn and Éomer laughed at that.
"I would not say that Imrahil. Her fast ride here had given a glow to her cheeks and light in her eyes. It will take more than soiled clothes to mar her beauty," said Éomer then ducked his head. He couldn't believe he had just said that. In the presence of her father none the less. Lucky for him Imrahil only took his words as a means to console his anxiety. But Aragorn heard the words for what it was and couldn't help but give the Rohirrim a raised eyebrow. Éomer, who was beginning to blush ignored Aragorn's look.
"I agree with Éomer, Imrahil. Your daughter couldn't have made a more lasting impression than she did today, her love and concern for you cancelled out any impropriety. She is a beauty Imrahil. You should be proud," said Aragorn.
"Aragorn, I hope it is I you are talking about. I don't think talking about the beauty of another maiden will suit my fancy M'lord," a voice floated into the room. All three head turned to the door and watched the new entries. Lady Arwen walked up to Aragorn and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn bowed to the three rulers before taking a seat in their little circle.
"Good evening, my lords," said Faramir, reaching out to receive the offered drink.
"And where are our other friends?" asked Éowyn, taking a small sip from Faramir's drink. Éomer decided to ignore his sister's bold move for it would be useless to tell her otherwise.
"They have other plans and have asked to be excluded from our company tonight," said Aragorn.
"And where is Lady Lothíriel?" asked Éowyn again. The princess intrigued her and she deeply wanted to know more about her love's cousin.
"She is getting ready to join us for evening tea," said Lady Arwen. Imrahil sighed again.
"I pray that at least her dress has been cleaned," he said mostly to himself, but Arwen's keen ears heard him.
"Prince Imrahil, your worries are needless. I have leant her something of mine," said Arwen. Imrahil's face brightened up and he bowed low to Arwen.
"Thank you my lady. You have taken her under your wing and to that I a deeply grateful," he said. Lady Arwen was about to respond when a loud clanking sound was heard from Éomer. All heads turned to him but the King of Mark did not notice as he was looking at something else, his jaw slacked and his eyes slightly glazed over. He was completely unaware of the mess he had made on the table with his dropped goblet.
"Good evening my lords and ladies. Forgive my tardiness, but it seems the trip here had exhausted me more than expected," came the voice of Lady Lothíriel from the doorway. Heads turned from Éomer to her and it wasn't only Éomer who was stunned by her beauty. If Éowyn had not bestowed a hard and powerful pinch to Faramir's side, he too would be staring at her with his jaw hanging low. Aragorn only received a hard squeeze from his lady but it was enough. As for Prince Imrahil… he couldn't believe that it was Lothíriel standing there. That wasn't his sweet little girl who had arrived unexpected this morning. This was a fully grown woman.
"Daughter?" he began unsurely. Lothíriel couldn't help but laugh at her father's expression.
"Yes, it is I, father. Do not look so shocked," she said. Imrahil looked a little longer before striding up to her and enveloping her in a hug.
"When did you grow up, for I feel as if it was only yesterday you were my little girl? Now, you stand before me so beautiful and so grown up," he said softly cupping her cheek in his hand. He looked at her face and saw his wife. He had never really noticed how Lothíriel resembled his wife. Must have been all that dirt that usually accompanied her.
"Imrahil, will you not grant us the pleasure of your daughter's company, or will you keep her at the door the entire night?" suddenly Éomer's voice broke out. He had very much recovered from his shock and was working extra hard to ignore the looks from his sister and to regain his lighthearted manner again. Imrahil gave Éomer a narrowed look.
"I do not mind the other gentlemen as their ladies will hold them in check. You, my dear friend, I am wary off. It wouldn't do for you to return to Rohan with my daughter's heart in your hands," he said. Lothíriel's eyes widen at her fathers words and she could feel her face becoming hot.
"Father!" she hissed at him and a brief glance at the Rohirrim told her that he too was embarrassed. But he unlike her covered it well.
"And I have no doubt that if that were to happen you would ride after me till the ends of Adar to reclaim it back," he said his tone wry but his cheeks were red.
"Aye, that I would," said Imrahil and although he smiled, his words were no jest. Lothíriel decided to put an end to this silly talk.
"Father you are talking nonsense, no doubt the effects of an empty stomach. King Elessar, perhaps we could move ahead and dine before my father and King Éomer trade even sillier words," she said, her tone calm, but Aragorn saw the pleading in her eyes. So he got up and offered an arm to his lady, Lord Faramir following suit.
"I agree with the Lady Lothíriel. Hunger has made your words mad, both of you. So come let us eat," said Aragorn, flashing his two friends a wry grin. Imrahil and Éomer bowed at Aragorn and when they turned to look at each other, they broke into identical smirks. Imrahil held out his arm to Lothíriel and she looped hers into his.
"It seems that I will walk alone, tis sad the life of a Rohan King," sighed Éomer from his seat. Éowyn laughed and held out her arm to him.
"I do not think Faramir would mind sharing me for one night," she said and Faramir just smiled, looking deep into her eyes. Éomer rolled his eyes but took her arm anyways. The friends were ready to leave, and only waited for Aragorn and Arwen to leave the room first as was custom. Suddenly Imrahil spoke out.
"Aragorn, would you wait for a while. I wish to retrieve an item," he said looking at Aragorn then his daughter. Aragorn nodded his approval and Imrahil released his daughter and disappeared into an adjacent room to the parlor.
"What has he gone to get?" asked Éomer at Faramir. Faramir's eyes followed his uncle and then looked at his cousin who had also turned to look at him, her eyes glint of irritation in them. He laughed.
"He has gone to get a cloak," he said and Lothíriel shot him a withering look.
"A cloak? In this heat?" Aragorn said in surprise.
"Nay, my lord, it is not for him… but for me," replied Lothíriel in frustration. She had really thought that her father's approval had been a stepping stone for her to blossom into the woman she desperately wanted to be rather than the child her father wished her to remain. But she should have known better. Imrahil appeared seconds later, in his hands his sky blue cloak and as she and Faramir had predicted, he draped the cloak around her shoulders covering her entire body except the head.
"Come, let's proceed to the dining hall," he said and reclaimed Lothíriel's arm, expertly dodging her dagger looks.
Lothíriel pushed her food around. She just didn't seem to have much appetite. Maybe it was the tight dress pressing her stomach down, but whatever the case was, she just wasn't hungry. To her left her father was engaged in a conversation with King Elessar and King Éomer and in front of her was her cousin and Lady Éowyn, pretty much preoccupied with each other. So she decided to entertain herself by observing the people who shared the table with her. With lowered eyelashes, her gaze fell to King Elessar and his future wife.
A sweet memory came into her mind about a time when she was but a little girl. After her mother had died, Imrahil had hired a local lady to look after her, to act as her nana. The old lady had long passed, but Lothíriel still remembered how her nana would take her into her lap on the nights when she wouldn't be able to sleep and tell her a story about how one day a strong King would come and lead the people of Gondor and Dol Amroth to a new era of glory, how the stronghold of the two city would flourish under his command. And she would also add how he would sweep into Dol Amroth on a white stallion and with one look at the beautiful princess he would sweep her onto his horse and ride with her into the sunset. It shamed her a little now that she had actually grown up believing her nana's words. But now that she had finally met King Elessar, imagining herself next to him seemed… wrong. Like she didn't belong there. And she didn't. She looked once again to the couple and realized that it wasn't Lady Arwen's beauty that was mesmerizing, but the fact that the two looked so compatible, as if they were two halves reunited to form a single beautiful object.
A laugh from lady Éowyn caught her attention and Lothíriel shifted her thoughts to her and Faramir. She didn't have to worry about hiding her gaze as the two were so visibly wrapped up in each other. She didn't know much about Lady Éowyn, but from what she had seen, she would compare the White Lady to a willow tree. On the outside, it seemed frail, capable of breaking at anytime, but in the face of strong winds, it would not break no matter how low it was forced to bend. She looked to Faramir, who had bent down to whisper something in his lady's ears and Lothíriel almost smiled when she saw Lady Éowyn blush prettily. She looked a little longer at her cousin. There was something different about him, now that she thought of it. But what? Her head unconsciously cocked slightly to the side as she pondered about it. Then it straightened. That was it. Her cousin no longer had the air of someone holding the world on his shoulders. The grief that was always present in his eyes, even when he was laughing with her was gone. So it's finally happened. Someone has finally pierced his solid wall and shown him what a wonderful person he was. She had tried so many times in the past but her efforts were always thwarted by her uncle.
Her smile disappeared at the thought of Denethor. She couldn't really say she was sad to hear of his demise. He had worked hard to break his youngest son's gentle spirit, unwilling to accept and love Faramir for the wonderful person he was. When Boromir was alive he would protect his brother from his father's harsh words… but he was always away patrolling the borders and eventually Denethor's words sent Faramir away to Ithilien in self-exile and little was heard of him, only returning when word had traveled that Boromir and his troops were in Minas Tirinth. Boromir. How much she missed him. Especially now. Her heart tightened and the pain came back. She had spent the entire week in tears when her father had told her of his death. Yet, deep inside she refused to believe it. But now she would have to come to terms with it. She sighed. She won't lie to herself. She loved Boromir. Not as a brother but more. And yes, she knew that marriage between them would be impossible, but that didn't stop her. She loved his dry humor, how he still looked for hope even when despair had taken over the hearts of those around him. He would always tell her that one day Gondor's glory will be restored. He never ran out of things to laugh at, whether it be over a pint of ale or over an ugly wound in his torso. How her heart would flutter furiously and her thoughts scattered and erratic when he was around her and when he left Dol Amroth, a small piece of her would go with him, and emptiness would fill her being only to be overcome when he visited next. And one day, the visits stopped.
"Lothíriel?" her father's voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up and saw that all eyes were focused on her, and there was concern in them. A drop of water dropped onto her hand and when she looked down it was a tear. Her tears. Quickly she wiped her wet cheeks. She hadn't even noticed she had started to cry. She flashed all of them a smile and rested an assuring arm on her father's arm.
"I am okay. Just a little disoriented. Things have happened at such a fast pace I am still spinning from it all. Why, it was only yesterday that Dol Amroth awaited news of the destruction of man and today we are all celebrating a new dawn and the future wedding of our King and the Steward of Gondor," she said, and she couldn't help winking at her cousin, very unladylike.
"A night's rest will calm your thoughts, and tomorrow you will feel well," said Aragorn kindly. He had felt her eyes on him moments earlier and knew her thoughts had run deep within her mind and heart. Lothíriel's eyes widen in despair.
"Rest? Again? My lord I have rested enough. Instead, with your permission I would like to stroll around in your lush gardens. It has been awhile since I have stepped on Gondor soil," she said, another pain stabbing her heart as she remembered the last time she had come here was with Boromir. It was also the last time she had seen him. But she wore a smile as she looked at her king, waiting for his answer.
"Lady Lothíriel, my grounds are yours to do as you please. But I wouldn't recommend a stroll at such late a night, especially alone," said Aragorn a little reluctant. Imrahil agreed with him.
"Yes, daughter. It is too dangerous. And as much as I would love to join you, I am wary from today's events," said Prince Imrahil. His words sealed her night. For she indeed had wanted to enlist her father in a nightly walk, but she could see the tiredness in his face and she knew he should rest. The battle had worn him out more than she had expected.
"Perhaps then… Lady Lothíriel, may I accompany you instead?" all eyes turned to Éomer. The Rohan King turned slightly red and quickly added.
"Of course, with Prince Imrahil's approval," he said looking briefly at Imrahil then turning back to his plate. Lothíriel could feel her cheeks burning.
"King Éomer…" she began but was cut off by Éowyn.
"What a wonderful idea. I'm sure Prince Imrahil has no objections, do you my lord? In fact, Faramir and I will join you," said Éowyn brightly. Faramir looked as if he wanted to protest but a sharp dig in his ribs, turned his objection into acquiesce.
"Yes, I think that is a great idea," he said.
"Well, if that's the case, then I see no harm in a night stroll, as long as you remain within the palace perimeters, and keep out of the dark corners as well as…" began Prince Imrahil but stopped when Lothíriel placed a hand on his arm. She looked up at her father with loving eyes. He will never get used to her growing up.
"Father, I know," she said softly. Imrahil smiled down at her.
"Shall we?' Faramir's voice broke their moment and immediately the reality of the situation rushed back to Lothíriel. She wished Éomer hadn't asked to accompany her. No, she wished she hadn't opened her mouth. How is it, she manages to place herself in such an awkward position. It wasn't that she didn't like him, but it was more of the fact that she would, with no doubt, say something atrociously stupid that any thoughts of forming a link with Dol Amroth will be severed. What King of any realm would want to have connections with a city inhabited by a princess who keeps putting her foot in her mouth? But the damaged had been done, and she saw herself standing up and placing an arm on Éomer's outstretched hand and the two bowed to the remaining three people at the table before following Faramir and Éowyn out into the garden.
End of chapter 1
(8,509 words)