All characters and places coming from the works of J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own, any storylines borrowed from him are not my own… but characters, personalities, plots, etc, not created by Tolkien are my own, and please respect that.
I just was bored, and thinking, and not wanting to do work, and this story hit me. Reviews please, for feedback, criticism, etc. The beginning might be a little rough, but I think it gets better. Thanks… hope you enjoy.
Princess of Dol Amroth—it was such a glamorous title. But above all Lothíriel was fifteen, and in love, with young Lord Galadhil. Shaggy black hair, black eyes—he was as dark as the night and as beautiful in her heart. At least, that is, for today. Lord Galadhil, his sisters, and his father were visiting from far-away Anfalas, though anywhere beyond Dol Amroth seemed far.
Lothíriel didn't mind that she rarely left Dol Amroth. The walls of the city kept in delights that she never tired of, and trips to the edge of the Bay of Belfalas during the warmest month kept her eager. Once, she had gone with her family to Minas Tirith. Admittedly, she had been only seven, with her hair curling beneath her chin, but she didn't particularly care for Minas Tirith. Everyone was rushing too and fro, as if the day was not long enough. When visitors went to Minas Tirith, they went for business, for politics, for matchmaking. Dol Amroth was different. It was also a beautiful white city upon a hill, but the entire atmosphere was one of leisure and lavishness. The Bay of Belfalas beckoned to one's heart, so close that it seemed you could leap off the highest tower and fall safely into its blue embrace. And the people were always more jovial. When visitors came to Dol Amroth, they came for the sea, for the carnival, for the breath of fresh air that came from being removed from the rest of Gondor.
For the young lords and princes that came with their fathers to Dol Amroth, there was also the attraction of Lothíriel herself. The only daughter of Prince Imrahil, there was never a shortage of suitors. Somehow the Prince himself remained blind, perhaps by choice, to the cohorts of his flesh. The 'lively' mood of the city did not hide itself from its royal family. Elphir, the first in line for the throne, was 28 at this time and about to be married to Galadhil's oldest sister. Erchirion, or Chir, was 24, with hair that was startlingly golden for a Gondorian, and there was at least one toddler among the ladies-in-waiting boasting curls of the same hue. Amrothos, 19, could charm a lady with a look, and had no qualms about doing just that. That left Lothíriel, fifteen, with long black hair, sea-green eyes, a body of sweet curves, and a tongue of wit, that led visiting dignitaries to her balcony looking over the Bay.
On her balcony was where Lothíriel sat now, brushing her hair and watching the sunset over the water. She had met and kissed and maybe some more than that with perhaps a dozen or so boys and young men, all without any promise of them ever being her husband. It wasn't that she didn't want a husband to share a bed with and a life with, but no one was appropriate for the sole Princess of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel sighed and spoke to the sun. "Maybe, it would be easier if I had a mother to speak to about these things. All I have is Amrothos."
As if waiting to be called, Amrothos stepped out of her room and onto the balcony, startling her.
"And don't forget your gossiping ladies-in-waiting, pregnant or suckling your nieces and nephews," he quipped. "Really, I thought I deserved more than an 'all I have!'" Lothíriel laughed and threw her brush at him half-heartedly.
"You know what I mean, Amrothos. I mean, from one fickle-hearted to another, isn't much advice," Lothíriel replied.
"Well I can give you advice on this much. Galadhil is not worth your time. He is betrothed, not that you could marry him, with his sister set to marry Elphir tomorrow. And besides that, he came right to you. You didn't even have to work at all on him!"
Lothíriel shrugged, turning her back on her brother. "I know he's not anything. But he is beautiful and he thinks up poetry on the spot!"
"The sun is gold, the sun is red, but nothing would be better than you in my bed," Amrothos teased, in mimicry of Galadhil. "I guess I'm a poet as well."
"Amrothos! It's not like that!" Lothíriel cried out. Then she laughed. "Well, maybe it is. But so what? It's better than just sitting around all day."
Amrothos grinned, strolling over to Lothíriel and resting his arm on her shoulders. "Now that is the sister I know and adore. But now, I propose a challenge. More guests should be arriving shortly for the wedding. I challenge thee, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, to go after, and win the heart of, one who makes you blush, not the other way around."
Lothíriel pouted, confused. "What do you mean? I don't get it!"
"You will, Sister, you will," Amrothos sighed. "Do you know the fine Lady Éowyn of Rohan? She is that one for me. And, she will be here tomorrow. You will see what it is like, to really want someone for the someone, not for the want."
Lothíriel had no chance to respond when the trumpets sounded from somewhere far below. "That has to be Minas Tirith! They were supposed to get here hours ago!" Amrothos cried out. "Lothíriel, jump on. You are too slow for me, but we should both be there to greet them."
With an unfamiliar sense of trepidation in her stomach, Lothíriel clasped on to her brother's back and the two took off together, whooping and hollering towards the royal salon.
They arrived just moments before the delegation was to be announced. Prince Imrahil breathed a sigh of relief as his two youngest took their places. Imrahil was first, followed by Ephir and his betrothed, Lady Kaminiel; then Chir, Amrothos and Lothíriel. On the other side of Imrahil stood Galadhil's father, Galadhil, and his two younger sisters. Everyone was dressed in his or her best, making Lothíriel quite uncomfortable. Just as the doors opened, she tied her hair loosely back in a knot of itself and fidgeted so that Amrothos took his hand and pressed her down.
"The delegation of the city of Minas Tirith," announced the page. "Denethor II, son of Ecthelion II, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith. Lord Boromir, son of Denethor, son of Finduilas, may she rest always, daughter of Adrahil. Lord Faramir, son of Denethor, son of Finduilas, may she rest always, daughter of Adrahil." They bowed their heads and presented their swords. Lothíriel never did get why one would present their sword in such a place of Dol Amroth. If anything, one should present the key to one's heart, if a lock was even required.
"The royal family of Dol Amroth," the page continued, doing his repetitious duty well. "Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, son of Adrahil. Lord Ephir, son of Imrahil. Lady Kaminiel, daughter of Galadin. Chi—Lord Erchirion, son of Imrahil." Lothíriel stifled a giggle. Even the servants had taken to calling him Chir. "Lord Amrothos, son of Imrahil," the page continued, slightly redder, but determined to finish. "Lady Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, daughter of Imrahil." Lothíriel bowed her head and did a slight curtsy in respect. As she looked up, she caught the uncompromising blue-gray eye of Lord Faramir. He did not smile, he did not wink, he did not even seem to notice her, but something stirred inside her. Lothíriel felt that she needed to concentrate on standing up straight so as to not let the heat raging around her ears knock her down. "You okay there, Loriel?" Amrothos mumbled, shortening her name. She nodded back in response. "Fine… just fine…" Amrothos let himself glance down at her and follow her gaze. He could barely restrain himself from smiling.
"Did I call it, or did I call it?" he whispered as the page finished his introductions and Denethor and Imrahil stepped forward to welcome each other, breaking the formalities.
"You called nothing," Lothíriel replied. Galadhil came over to them, his eyes flickering to her chest, then her lips, then her eyes. "Would you like to go watch the end of the sunset with me?" he asked.
"Its already dark," she answered, barely concealing her disinterest.
"Oh, well, then… I will see you in the morning," he attempted, trying to regain control of the situation. He turned on his heel, with a sharp glance at Amrothos.
"As if its my fault that you are no longer captivated by him!" Amrothos exclaimed after he had gone.
Lothíriel barely heard him. "I think I am just going to retire to my room. I'm not feeling myself." With that, she walked slowly, deliberately out of the salon, and then hurried up to her room. The night would soothe things over… it always did.