Author's Note: I had the idea to see what happens when elements of Lord of the Rings and Little White Horse are combined. What resulted was, well, you will just have to read and find out!
Ten-year old Lothíriel snuck out of the castle a little before sunrise. Although it was a winter morning, winters had the same weather as the rest of the seasons. She bypassed the guards and the town through a secret tunnel she found long ago. She hastened down the path to the beach. At dawn, the waves rose high. The foaming crests took the shape of white horses. Together, they sprung from the waves and galloped across the beach, up the cliffs, and over the White Mountains. They were the heralds of the day. Every day, be it overcast, sunny, or stormy, they brought in the light of day to the world.
One horse stayed back. Blue waters swirled around his silver hooves. His snowy coat, mane, and tail glistened in the brightening light. From his forehead rose a silvery horn. The point of which seemed to capture the light of a star.
Awed, Lothíriel took a step back and curtsied. The horse bowed his proud head in response before he disappeared in an envelope of light. Carrying the memory of the majestic stallion, Lothíriel trudged back to the castle. Throughout the rest of the morning, her lessons on numbers, writing, reading, drawing, and everything a proper lady would eventually know passed ever so slowly.
As soon as her lessons concluded, Lothíriel set off towards in the library in hopes of finding some information on the sea horses. Spotting Elphir, she asked, "Do you believe in sea horses?"
"Of course I do, they are little creatures that come in many colors," he said. He searched the shelves for a particular book and opened up one of them. The picture he then showed her was not at all what she witnessed that day.
"No, not those," Lothíriel said. "Horses that come from the seafoam at the dawn of day. One of them is a most beautiful horse with a horn."
"Ah, you mean unicorns," he answered. "Nurse always had pretty stories to tell."
Disappointed, Lothíriel said defensively, "She never tells me 'pretty stories.'" She fled the room.
Lothíriel ran up to her mother's boudoir. Finding it empty, she sat down before the fireplace. What does her mother do? Mornings she spent with the housekeeper. Afternoons, she liked to relax. Now how does her mother rest? She'd be somewhere quiet, peaceful, and open. The gardens are usually quite silent, which makes them peaceful. Because they only have stone walls and the sky for the ceiling, they would be pretty open too. Lothíriel sprang up from her chair and dashed out the room, almost forgetting to close the door. Down three flights of stairs, she hastened. After stopping to catch her breath, she wove her way through numerous passages to a large parlor. The large windows revealed large, terraced gardens. The casements could almost be doors. Opening one of them, she climbed through the window.
Lothíriel wandered the gardens until she came to an out-of-the-way corner. There, her mother sat with some needlework. Lothíriel queried, "Do you believe in the unicorn from the sea?"
"Ah, so you have finally seen him," said her mother, looking up from her work. She rose and continued, "Sometime after I moved here, I met him, and he showed me a special place."
Her mother led Lothíriel to an even more secluded part of the gardens. Down some steps behind a honeysuckle-covered arbor, Lothíriel discovered a passageway of white stone with a roof of thick vines. The sun filtered through the vines, casting curious shadows in the shape of galloping horses. Eventually, she found her mother standing before a door with a silver horseshoe for a knocker.
"Before I show you anything more, promise me that you will keep this to yourself," she said soberly, stooping to look into Lothíriel's face. "This is something only you and I would be able to understand, and others would laugh."
Lothíriel nodded. Her mother then opened the door. As she entered, Lothíriel gasped. The greenest grass carpeted a round room. In the walls, intricate masonry, set with precious metals and gems, displayed the history of the horses of the sea. Blue and white flowers bloomed from the vine ceiling. A shaft of sunlight pierced the center of the domed ceiling and landed on a marble statue of a unicorn, rearing as waves crashed against the rock he stood on.
"What place is this?" Lothíriel asked in hushed wonder.
Her mother answered, "This is the cenotaph for the Little White Horse. Only those who have seen and believe in him can see what you see."
As the months passed, Lothíriel often slipped away to the peaceful sanctuary. Even on the rainiest days, the beams of light illuminated the place and the hallway leading to it. After all, it was a magical place.
Lothíriel turned eleven, and her love for the Little White Horse grew. Her mother now took control of her education. Most of her mornings began at dawn with her mother. Although she enjoyed spending more time with her mother, who taught her to be more than a typical lady, Lothíriel missed watching sunrises at the beach.
Three months later, Lothíriel had a day off. After spending the morning on the beach, she brought her books to the little sanctuary. After an hour of raptly reading the history of Dol Amroth, a sudden wave of drowsiness overpowered Lothíriel. She laid her head on the soft turf "just for a minute." Suddenly she awoke with bright sunlight in her eyes. Standing up, Lothíriel found herself in a field of rolling grass. A crisp wind played with her black curls. A great horse with a coat as grey as the stormy sky galloped nearby with a golden-haired rider. The rider checked his horse and headed her way.
After dismounting, the rider knelt before her. He said kindly in accented Westron, "What are you doing so far from home, little one?"
"I do not know," she answered, "but I am not allowed to speak with strangers."
"Ah, your parents taught you well," he said with a smile. "Come, I shall to you my name, and you tell me yours. Then we shall be acquaintances instead of strangers. They call me Éomer, and I am a rider of Rohan."
"Is that where I am?" she asked. "Rohan?"
"Indeed," he said. "You are a peculiar one. Are you the child of one of the few merchants that pass through Rohan or an elf-child?"
"Neither," Lothíriel said. Changing the topic before he could question her answer, she asked, "What is your horse's name?"
"Fleetfoot," he answered proudly. "He is not as fast as a Meara, but he is faster than most." He patted the steed affectionately. "Do you ride?"
"I am learning from my brothers," she replied. "My pony is old and fat, but Father promised to get me a proper horse when I am older or better."
Éomer laughed before sobering quite quickly. "Is your family close by? I would like to see you safe with them before I leave you. I must arrive in Edoras before sunset and still have many miles to ride."
"Yes, my brothers are quite close as are my parents."
"Good, where are they? I should like to meet them, even if it be briefly."
"I…it's a little hard to explain," she stammered. Suddenly, an idea sparked. She added with some confidence, "We are camped over there." She pointed in the opposite direction.
Éomer looked. Seeing nothing, he turned back to the girl and found her absent. Panicked, Éomer called out, only to hear the wind in response. Perhaps he had seen a vision. Then he noticed a blue flower lying on the ground where the girl stood. He had never seen one like it before. Carefully pocketing the blossom, Éomer mounted and rode on in silent contemplation.
