This is an oldie and goodie from my tumblr archives. One of my favorites, easily. Hope you enjoy 3
"Come sailing with us."
Lothíriel did not even bother looking up from her novel to answer her brother, giving an emphatic, "No."
But Amrothos persisted. "It's a beautiful day, Riel. And you have been stuck in this stuffy palace for weeks; I know you will enjoy the fresh air…it may be our last chance before the autumn rains..."
It took all of her self-control to keep from either groaning aloud in frustration, or from smacking Amrothos round the head with her book. While it was true that she had not left the palace in quite some time, (an enormous amount of foreign guests busied her more than what was reasonable), her fiction novel had lain untouched for days, begging to be finished. That she at last had the opportunity to sit down in her private chamber and devote her attention to the book was no small matter, and sailing with her brothers, though one of her favorite pastimes, was unlikely to dissuade her from reading.
Amrothos tipped down her book with a long finger, causing Lothíriel to scowl at him. "You can read any old day," he said, ignoring the look. "Any rainy day. But you cannot beat today for sailing…"
In the silence as he awaited a response, Lothíriel heard the chatter of court ladies outside the door, making her stomach turn with perturbation. This made up her mind quickly, and surprising both herself and her brother, said, "Very well! I will be down shortly." Amrothos, unreasonably gleeful, left her at once, and she heard with disgust the rise in the volume of the giggles from the ladies as he passed them on his way out. Of course, there had been no guarantee the ladies would have beseeched her company for the afternoon...but she dreaded the mere possibility so much that agreeing to sail over her book was too easy of a decision. How she hated the gossip and talk of clothes and who wanted to wed whom!
All in all, it was an dispirited Lothíriel that wandered out of the palace and to the prince's private docks some time later. She had changed her day dress for something more appropriate for sailing: loose trousers, a long tunic and waterproof boots with her hair braided back where it would not be ruffled about by the wind. Playing hostess for so many guests was wearing down her normally cheerful nature, Lothíriel decided as she mounted one of the smaller docks where she could see her brother preparing a small vessel. The sooner the noble guests—and their insipid daughters—left Dol Amroth, the better off she would be.
Her moody thoughts were not at all helped at the sight of a tall man, who was helping Elphir to coil a length of rope. Though Lothíriel had met the King of Rohan previously and had no real quarrel with him, he was too stern of demeanor to endear himself to her. That, and that day several months earlier when she had overheard her father discussing with one of his counsellors the possibility that she make a match with the King...thankfully her firm (albeit half-hysterical) confrontation of her father later that day had removed the idea from him, but seeing the King still made her shiver with discomfort.
Amrothos helped her into the swaying boat, and Lothíriel took advantage of their closeness to hiss in his ear, "'We', indeed!"
He only shrugged, and Lothíriel knew he did not care one bit if he had incidentally deceived her into thinking it would only be herself and her brothers. Already Amrothos was unlatching the rudder from its locked position, and he bowed her to the cushioned seat. "Your command," he said, and then more loudly, "Shove off!"
There was a shout of protest from Erchirion, who was still on the dock and carrying a load of tools and rope. Amrothos laughed long at the joke, and even Lothíriel smiled, though she waited patiently for Erchirion to hop into the boat with a clatter before she steered the rudder away from the dock. Elphir and the King were using long oars to push away from the docks, and Amrothos unfurled the mainsail, whistling out-of-tune and making her ears ring.
The breeze was brisk, and began to urge them along before they had even left the shelter of the inlet where the dock was built. Soon they were past a rocky outcrop with only the sparkling blue sea before them, and sighing, Amrothos flopped onto a pile of canvas and lay with his arm covering his face from the merciless sun.
"Not time to rest yet, you lazy slob!" Erchirion called down, from the top of the mast where he was double-securing knots of the spreaders.
"My work is done," Amrothos said. "You are the slow one, Erch."
"I see you have yet to tighten the headstay! Did you not think I would notice? I am not an idiot."
"Evidence would suggest otherwise…"
Lothíriel ignored their bickering; it was too ordinary and too dull to entertain her. Instead she tried very hard to ignore Elphir teaching the King of Rohan how to test if the boom stay was secured, which she was finding far more interesting. So Lothíriel glanced up at the sun, the horizon, the distant outlines of several small islands, and quickly decided that they would sail south. There were pale clouds congregating in the northern sky, and though Lothíriel would wager they had no rain in the them, she still did not fancy any risk of inclement weather. She steered the rudder to her right, and the boat swayed as it turned abruptly.
"Oi!" Erchirion shouted, clenching white-knuckled onto the spreaders. "Tell us before you turn the ruddy boat, Riel!"
Little as she liked to be shouted at, Lothíriel did notice with satisfaction that her brothers' argument was quite overshadowed by the bumping turn of the boat, and she smiled to herself benignly. Unfortunately, the next words of Elphir filtered to her ears, though they were meant for the King.
"Lothíriel is our best navigator," he was saying. "She can always tell where she is just by looking at the sky. Father says she could command a ship, if she was not so little of stature and a princess of the realm. Though her steering can be a bit...er—wild, she never gets lost."
Lothíriel stuck her tongue out in Elphir's direction, but his back was turned. The King, however, who had been in the process of sending her a furtive glance, saw her action and gave—to her astonishment—a quick grin. She felt heat rush to her face.
Thankfully, there were plenty of other distractions involved in the sailing of a boat by such misfit adventurers, and to keep from getting embarrassed at the King's frequent scrutiny (did he not trust her to steer the vessel?), Lothíriel joined in against Amrothos, who still stubbornly refused to do anything other than pretend to sleep. There was plenty of rope within reach of any point on the boat, and she rested her elbow on the rudder as she picked apart the frayed end of one such rope. As Amrothos was resting not too far from her, it was a simple matter to lean over as far as she could, holding the rope towards his pretending-to-be serene face, where she brushed the rope against his nose, making him swat at the air in disgust. Overcome with giggles, Lothíriel continued until Amrothos growled aloud, trying to snatch the rope blindly but she was too quick.
"Cease and desist!" Amrothos roared, sitting up straight with his eyes flashing fire at Lothíriel as she succeeded, once again, to yank the rope out of his grip. Erchirion was howling with laughter as he finished with the ropes on the mast, and jumped down to the steer of the boat with a loud thunk.
"Good, you are awake," Lothíriel said placidly, winding up the rope neatly once more. "Do ensure that our boat is safe, if you please. The rest of us have enough to do without having to do your chores, too."
She had likely lost Amrothos's goodwill for the remainder of the journey, but it was worth it. Especially when she caught the King of Rohan's eyes and he winked at her. It confused Lothíriel greatly; she knew he was very friendly with the members of her family, but she was unsure how she ought to treat the King. If he was her father's sworn-son, would that make him her brother? Then why would her father want them to marry? Did the King know of those failed plans? How should she go about treating him, then, as a sort-of brother and sort-of rejected suitor?
And why did he seem to look at her so often?
Lothíriel found herself so distracted by her musings that she was the last to notice the eerie calm that had overtaken the boat; her brothers had stopped alternating between bickering and joking, and the sky was an ugly, puce shade of yellow. She stared upwards for a moment; were those the harmless clouds she had seen in the north before their departure? How had they encroached so quickly?
"Turn back, Lothíriel," Elphir ordered, his voice too loud to be normal though he appeared perfectly calm. "I do not dare continue onward, even if there are islands closer than the city. Let us not be shipwrecked today, eh?"
Lothíriel had already turned the rudder, but without the sun or stars to guide her, the present knowledge of their location would only last so long. She swiveled in her seat to look for land masses; several islands lay before the dip of the horizon, but they were not near enough for her to recognize them and gauge their exact location. As the sky had been clear at their departure, Lothíriel had not considered bringing her father's old compass; now she chided herself ruthlessly for the idiocy.
A gentle patter of rain began to sound on the flat of the ocean and the wooden planks of the boat. Hastily, Elphir and Erchirion were rolling up the mast so that any stormy winds would not blow them off course, and Amrothos was unwrapping several oilskins. They were all just barely wrapped tightly as the sea began to rock them brutally, and a vicious sheet of rain blew horizontally as the wind picked up, and Lothíriel blinked water out of her eyes.
"Which way is Dol Amroth?" Erchirion called over the loudness of the rain, kicking loose tools and such into the storage at the rear of the boat.
"North-northeast," Lothíriel shouted back. "Into the storm, I think."
"You think?" Amrothos was a picture of unhappiness, his wet hair plastered across his face as he pulled on the backstay, the boat groaning underfoot.
"Should we not take shelter belowdecks?" This was the first suggestion from the King, who was looking a bit green in the face as he placed an unsteady hand on the mast with another rolling wave.
Elphir gave a bark of laughter. "Belowdecks? There are none here—this is barely a sloop, my friend! And this is hardly enough of a storm to warrant any worry; we have sailed in worse!"
Lothíriel would have scoffed, were she not so busy fighting the rudder. It was pointless of her to try to direct the boat with such pressure from the violent swells, but she felt she was to blame for their predicament; she should have been watching the weather…
Everything was darkening around them; black sky, black water. Lothíriel squinted to watch her brothers rush around the boat, two unrecognizable forms bailing water and another stumbling around accomplishing nothing. A rush of apprehension took her for a half-second as she realized she could not see the King, and then she saw his unmistakable golden head (where was his oilskin cap, anyway? He ought to be wearing it!), leaning over the side of the boat. Remembering his nauseated expression, she guessed that the storm had overwhelmed him. But he was too near the edge; Lothíriel decided that they all ought to probably secure themselves to the boat with lengths of rope.
But several things happened in quick succession that prevented her from carrying out that plan. Firstly, the taunt main sheet snapped. Then a particularly fierce gust of wind and tip of the boat sent the boom careening to the port side, where the unfortunate King was still hunched over. The solid thwump of contact on the poor man's back was audible even over the rush of rain, and Lothíriel swallowed a scream as he plummeted headfirst off the side.
Her brothers had not noticed; they were too busy fighting to keep the boat afloat. She abandoned the rudder at once, knowing that cause was futile anyway, and she struggled across the boat. With trembling hands hastily tied a rope 'round her waist and then around the mast. It seemed plenty long now, coiled on the deck, but would it be long enough? Lothíriel kicked off her boots, glanced quickly at the surrounding sea, and seeing the bobbing head of the King, climbed on the rim of the hull and dove into the black sea.
Everything went silent as water filled her ears, and she was buffeted backwards into the keel painfully. Pushing off with her feet, Lothíriel swarm forward, blinking in the salty water as she tried to see around her for the King. No luck. She swam towards the surface with difficulty, taking deep breaths in the moist air as she looked around frantically. A waving hand was just visible before disappearing below a tall swell, and with all her strength, Lothíriel swarm forward, tugging on the rope and praying it was long enough.
Another wave, this one more fortuitous, brought the King in her direction, and bumping limbs awkwardly they were wrenched together underneath the water. Lothíriel grasped his sinking wrist with both of her hands, and pulled him upwards as she kicked. Their heads broke the surface together, taking deep, panicking breaths.
"Hold on to me!" she shouted over the noise of the storm. "I am tied to the boat!"
The King nodded, and grasped her around the waist so tightly she struggled to breathe, and then with numbing arms she began to pull on the rigid rope that would lead them to safety. But the weight of the King, combined with, as Elphir put it—her littleness of stature—as well as her ebbing strength, the prospect did not look good.
"Trade places with me." The King's voice was loud in her ear, and she could only nod as he let go of her to clutch the rope instead. She could barely wrap her arms around his shoulders, they were so broad, and she felt his muscles move as he drew them closer to the boat. Now Lothíriel could see the outline of the vessel, and relief surged through her limp body. They began to move faster, and she saw one of her brothers pulling hard on the rope from within the boat.
But she had chosen too thin a rope for their salvation. Being rubbed so ruthlessly on the hard wood of the boat, it had begun to fray, and the horrifying sound of a snap preceded a great sweep of water, which tumbled both herself and the king, head over heels over head, back into the unforgiving sea and away from the boat.
Lothíriel's mouth was full of briny water; she could not scream. Fear made her body stiffen, and she clenched harder to the King, who was almost buffeted from her grip. She could hear him coughing, and hating the decision, she loosened her arms at once. Then they were torn apart, and would have been separated by an enormous swell had he not the wit to grab the torn rope with still held her. But without his added weight or a connection to the boat, Lothíriel was at the mercy of the sea, and it did not hesitate to drag her slight form underwater. It was a terrible feeling, she thought to herself; being pushed down by the sea but also pulled upwards by a rejected suitor… The fight between the two was not easily decided, and just underneath the surface, Lothíriel watched with interest as white spots appeared in front of her eyes. She felt like she was gliding, really...this was not so bad. Or could it be the storm fading? It hardly mattered now; it had done quite enough damage.
The only thing that broke through her stupor was the pain in her eyes from the saltwater, and Lothíriel closed her lids. It was too black to see anything, anyway…