Hello lovely readers! I'm back! This is a newer project of mine. I can't promise any super-regular updates because I start grad school on Monday, but I will do my best. Please review if you feel so inclined, I would love feedback!
The battle of Pelennor Fields raged. Clashing metal, the cries of horses and Orcs. It was chaos. In the midst of it all, a contingent of the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth were cutting a path through the enemy.
"Swan Knights! To me!" A voice rose above the din, belonging to a person in armor covered in Orc blood, with a thick, dark braid coming from under their helm.
Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, took a chance to catch her breath as the call of victory spread through the battlefield. She was exhausted, everything ached from the exertion of battle and she greatly desired a bath. Her first priority was finding her brothers and their men, as desirable as a bath was, it could wait. She climbed onto the horse one of her men brought for her and surveyed the field around her, taking in all of the carnage. Not too far across the field was one of the Rohirrim, a white horsetail atop his helm. He nodded to her, thinking her another soldier.
The children of Prince Imrahil all met inside the courtyard of their father's Minas Tirith townhouse, each with their group of Swan Knights.
"What are the losses?" Erchirion, the second eldest, asked after Lothíriel and her men arrived.
"We lost five from my group," Amrothos, the third of the four siblings answered grimly.
"No dead from mine," Lothíriel replied, wincing as she moved a bruise she didn't realize was forming. "Some minor injuries though. Any word from Father or Elphir?" Prince Imrahil had taken charge of the defenses inside the city, and their eldest brother had stayed in Dol Amroth to maintain the seaside defenses.
The other two shook their heads. They clasped arms with each of their men and hugged each other before separating to tend to injuries and seek baths.
In a tavern that had miraculously stayed mostly intact, members of the Rohirrim were drinking to their fallen King and brothers-in-arms. A small group of Swan Knights joined them, each offering an additional viewpoint about the battle.
"Aye," one Swan Knight said, raising a tankard. "To the Princess Lothíriel, Prince Amrothos, and Prince Erchirion, without whose leadership we may have got off a lot worse."
Several of the men from Lothíriel's unit raised their glasses enthusiastically. The Princess had held her own very well in the fight.
The Rohirrim noted this regard, one man in particular.
After cleaning off all of the grime of battle, Lothíriel found herself and her brothers standing in their father's study. Prince Imrahil stared at the three of his four children, his look a mix of pride and disapproval.
"And?" Imrahil asked. "What have you to say for yourselves? Especially you, Lothíriel."
The Princess met her father's gaze evenly. So, she may not have asked to be a part of the battle, but it was her experience that it was sometimes better to ask forgiveness than permission.
"Ada, I don't regret doing what I did. We needed another captain."
"She did exceedingly well, Father," Erchirion said, coming to his sister's defense. "There would have been considerably more losses had she not joined us."
Imrahil smiled slightly, then grimaced as if a particularly untasteful thought came to his mind.
"You do realize your aunt has received word of this, yes?" His late wife's sister was a fearsome woman to behold, and a stickler for proper Gondorian propriety.
Lothíriel's face paled. Aunt Ivinriel had just gotten out of another phase of trying to "tame" her. It had gone about as well as expected.
As if being summoned, the topic of their conversation swept into the room in a flurry of fabric.
"Imrahil! This is the last straw! After this whole mess is taken care of, you must arrange a marriage for this girl! Before word of this latest indiscretion spreads throughout the entire court!"
Lothíriel held her tongue, biting down on the inside of her cheek to avoid saying something that would land her in deeper trouble.
Imrahil dismissed his children with a jerk of his head. All three of them hurried out of their father's study, not stopping until they were far enough away as to not hear Ivinriel's elevated voice through the door of their father's study.
"Well, I've done it now," she said, looking at the bemused faces of her two older brothers. THey both nodded emphatically.
Lothíriel looked out toward the East, seeing the fires of Mordor glowing over the mountains. At her aunt's insistence, she had been left behind in Minas Tirith while her father and brothers joined the new Kings of Gondor and Rohan on one final march to the Black Gate.
"You don't like being left behind, cousin," Faramir observed. His younger cousin had been relegated to the Houses of Healing by their aunt, and was passing much of the time with him. "Come, there is someone I would like you to meet."
Lothíriel followed her cousin toward one of the gardens, where a lady dressed in white was looking out at the sky much like she had, though her arm was in a sling unlike Lothíriel's.
"Lady Eowyn," Faramir said, catching the woman's attention. Lothíriel looked at her cousin with interest, noticing how his demeanor changed in the presence of this woman. "My cousin, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Thyri, Lady Eoywn of Rohan."
Lothíriel and Eowyn regarded each other, offering nods of acknowledgement.
"It's an honor to meet the White Lady of Rohan," the Gondorian woman said. "What you did was impressive."
Eowyn scoffed. "I suppose it would seem so, to someone who wasn't on that battlefield."
Lothíriel's eyes became stony. "You misunderstand me," she said, her voice becoming cool. "I was on that battlefield."
"Thyri…" Faramir cautioned, briefly wondering if introducing the two warrior women was a massive mistake.
Eowyn looked down, breaking eye contact with the Princess she had been staring down. "Forgive me," she said. "Being left behind has left me in a disagreeable temper."
Lothíriel nodded, offering the other woman a smile. "I understand that only too well, my lady."
"Eowyn, please, I would not have formality between us."
"Indeed, I wish the same," the two shared a smile.
A noise from the East drew the attention of all three of them, and they watched as a large explosion came from the direction of Mordor. Eowyn grabbed Faramir's arm, Lothíriel smiled. The ring-bearer had succeeded. Sauron was defeated.
Word spread quickly through the city in the days after the defeat. The victorious company was camped in the Fields of Cormallen. Lothíriel was sitting in her aunt's solar, grudgingly embroidering yet another flower onto the fabric in front of her, when a messenger entered the room, getting the attention of the two noblewomen.
"Yes?" Ivriniel asked, looking over the dust-covered messenger.
"Forgive me, my ladies, but Prince Imrahil requests Princess Lothíriel to attend him on the Fields of Cormallen."
The princess lept to her feet, or as much as possible without giving her aunt a coronary, and hurried out of the room, thanking the messenger. She returned to her chamber, changing from the gown she had been wearing into leggings and a long tunic. She pulled her boots on and tied her hair in a horsetail behind her head. She packed some additional clothes, rolling them into her bedroll and headed down to the stables.
Once she had ridden far enough out of the city, she looked back at the majestic tiered city and smiled. Hope had returned.