A/N: Hello all! So I came up with this fun little story out of nowhere. I haven't ever read anything quite like it, and there might be a few elements that aren't fully cannon (though since we don't know much about Harad and their practices, I believe I can be forgiven).
This story is really only meant for fun. So sit back and enjoy!
The tent before Lothíriel was covered in colorful scarves. The imposing city of Minas Tirith stood behind her, casting its shadow over the mess of tents with foreign traders. The rich scent of spices hung in the air and the gaggle of conversation, only some of it in the common tongue, wafted past her like the breeze. She stared at the colorful tent, making sure her hood was pulled over her head enough to hide her identity before entering.
Within the tent, she could smell strong incense. How it managed to remain within the confines of the tent's fabric walls, she doubted she would ever know, but that was only the beginning. In the center of the tent, an elderly woman sat. By the hazy look over her eyes, Lothíriel could tell that she was blind, but she had turned her face towards Lothíriel, a knowing expression painted on her dark, leathery face.
"Come forth, my daughter." The woman's voice crackled like a dying fire. Lothíriel's heart beat madly within her chest. She licked her lips nervously before stepping forward. The woman pointed to a cushion before her, and without needing instruction, Lothíriel sat down.
"How did you know I was a woman?" Her voice came out a bit more shrill than she had meant it to be. The elder cackled lightly.
"When you are blind, and have lived as long as me," her smile remained, "you begin to realize the differences in a person's gait and how different types of clothes sound. Not to mention, you smell very feminine. But that is not the question you have come here to ask, I presume?"
"You're right." Lothíriel chuckled nervously. "One of my maids came here and said you seemed to be a genuine fortune teller. I thought, with how uncertain my future feels, I might as well see if you have any insight."
"Fortune tellers are little better than fortune hunters, if you ask me." Her smile faded away. "I remember a maid. I saw her future, though that is all I will delve of what I saw. The only futures I reveal are to those that are involved. But the future can sometimes seem more of a burden than a boon. Are you sure you want to know yours?"
"Yes." Lothíriel nodded decisively. "I've heard talks from my father that he is in talks with the King of Rohan to propose my marriage. Supposedly, it's meant to be declared when we go to Rohan for their midsummer celebrations."
"And you wish to know if it is a good match." It wasn't a question. She stared at Lothíriel's face, the princess was almost sure she could see. "Hmm, yes." She muttered to herself. "I see."
"What do you see?" Lothíriel lowered her voice slightly and leaned forward.
"I see two paths before you. One leading to tragedy and the other to happiness. But in order to find your happiness, you must do something very specific." The woman tapped her knee lightly. "Would you be willing to do that, for the sake of your happiness?"
Lothíriel bit her lip for a moment. "Tell me what it is that I must do first."
Take this vial, and on the night of the first full moon after you have stepped into the land of the horselords, you must go alone into the fields and drink this."
"How do I know it is safe to drink?" Lothíriel looked at the clear liquid before her skeptically.
"I not only give you my word, but I will demonstrate." She lifted the vial to her lips and told a sip of the liquid.
Lothíriel took the vial from her and held it carefully. "What does the road to my happiness look like?"
"You and your husband will be happy and fruitful. All who come into contact with you will be at peace and he will be known as the blessed one."
"But will my husband be the king?"
"Does it matter if your husband is a king or a beggar if it will lead to your true happiness?" The woman raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose not." Lothíriel pulled out a coin pouch. "How much do I owe you for this vial?"
The woman smiled knowingly, "I will collect payment only when you have achieved your happiness." She paused, "Now it is time for you to go. Your brothers search for you. Make sure to hide that vial and tell no one, else all will come to failure."
Lothíriel felt bewildered but stood. "Goodbye mistress." She turned and exited the tent. As the flap closed behind her the woman's voice called out.
"Goodbye Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth." Lothíriel turned, stunned. She had not given her name purposefully. But when she looked at the spot, the tent was gone as if it had never existed in the first place. Feeling even stranger, she simply stared at the empty plot of grass.
"There you are, sister dear." She felt an arm sling across your shoulder. Turning her head, she saw the curly black hair of her brother, Amrothos. "Staring into nothingness." He smiled cheerily. Lothíriel made sure her hands were tucked under her cloak, hiding the vial within the confines of the warm fabric.
"Sorry," she smiled up at him. "I seemed to have wandered off."
"It is a little thing, since your are not unwell." Amrothos tightened his grip on her, pulling her into an awkward hug. "But given the time, I suppose we should begin to head back to our home. We are leaving in the morning for Rohan."
"How long do you suppose it will take for us to arrive at Edoras?"
"Well," Amrothos pondered as he began to lead her back towards where the Dol Amrothian horses had been picketed, "if the roads remain dry and there is nothing to hinder our travels, I'd say we'll arrive in five days hence. The night of the full moon, if the lunar calendar is correct."