AN: I have realised that in my excitement to post this story I had completely forgotten to write an author's note and a disclaimer! So here goes:

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, and never will own, anything involving this story. It is written purely for my own, and hopefully other's, amusement. All credit goes to the wonderful Tolkein family.

Enjoy!

Lothíriel stood at the top of Tirith Aear, the Seaward-Tower that stood within the white city walls of Dol Amroth, on the headland that overlooked the sea. Her gaze was fixed on the never-ending expanse of water. Indeed she had been doing so for many hours already that day, and again for the days, and weeks, before. She was anxiously awaiting news of her family; her father, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and her elder brothers: Elphir, Erchirion and Amrothos.

Ever since the messenger from Gondor had come riding in haste and had shared whispered, urgent words to the prince of oncoming war and impending doom from the East, the people of Dol Amroth had been waiting with baited breath to hear news of loved ones and the fate of Middle Earth. Lothíriel, in particular, felt the keen loss of her brothers and father, the only surviving family left to her since her mother's tragic death when she had been very small. Now the only memory that she could conjure of her mother was of a serene, tall and grey-eyed woman, with a graceful laugh and a scent of violets.

Lothíriel took after her mother in appearance; she too was tall for a woman, she had a pale, almost elven, complexion, with piercing grey eyes and long dark hair, that gently waved and clung to her figure as she moved. She was slim, but that belied the hidden strength that her body harboured; she was as adept at sword fighting as she was with playing the harp. Even by the standards of Dol Amroth she was considered a beauty; she seemed to have inherited all the elven blood that her ancestry could provide. From her father she had gained his gift for diplomacy and wit, and also a slight mischievousness, a trait that never failed to dismay her tutors when they found themselves to be the victim in yet another scheme. These schemes had often included the youngest of her three brothers, Amrothos, who was closest to her both in age and temperament. It was this brother that she missed the most.

On this day, the 4th of April in the year 3019 of the Third Age, Lothíriel sensed a change in the skies. The dark cloud that had covered Gondor but 2 weeks ago had all but vanished, and the sound of birdsong from the migratory birds of the south had returned. She felt the warm rays of the sun filter through the windows of her father's study at the top of the tower and knew instinctively that peace had been restored.

Below her the familiar clatter of hooves on the cobbled streets of Dol Amroth could suddenly be heard. Lothíriel gathered up her skirts and immediately started to run down the long flights of stairs that spiralled around the walls of the tower. This was the third time that she had undertaken this journey in recent months. In her family's absence she had been entrusted with the care of the city, and she had dealt with the small disputes that had occurred in that time both fairly and in person.

Reaching the bottom of the tower, the young woman, only 19 years of age, took a moment to compose herself and gather her wits; it would not do for a princess to look overly flustered, before opening the door to receive the approaching messenger.

"My Lady!" hailed the Gondorian soldier. He looked tired from his journey, his horse even more so as they had ridden at break-neck speed, but his eyes were full of excitement.

"What news from Minas Tirith?" she enquired urgently.

"Denethor, Steward, is dead. But despair not! As Elessar, descendent of Elendil, Heir of Isildur and to the throne of Gondor has been found! Moreover the One Ring of power has been discovered and cast into the fires of Mount Doom by small folk from the Shire and Sauron is overthrown!"

Lothíriel was momentarily saddened by the news of the passing of her uncle, he had been a good man in earlier years, but since the death of his wife his mood had been increasingly fell and he spoke only of doom and destruction. She had also resented his continued favouritism of his eldest Boromir over Faramir. Her cousin Faramir had always been her favourite due to his kind nature and fair manners. To her Boromir had seemed at times to be arrogant, yet she had mourned the loss of her cousin with great sorrow when news of his demise had reached the city of Dol Amroth.

"These are glad tidings indeed! Now my men will see to it that your horse is cared for and you may find rest in our guest houses." The soldier bowed deeply to show his gratitude and followed one of the servants, that had been standing nearby, towards the palace.

"Elimavi!" Lothíriel cried, for she knew that her handmaiden would be near. The servant came out from an arch on the other side of the courtyard. "Please tell the men that we are to begin the journey to Minas Tirith."

"Will we be going by ship my lady?"

"No Eli, the fastest ships have been taken by my father and brothers, we will take the road."

"But is that safe? I heard the roads had been overrun!"

"We have nothing to fear from those evil creatures now my friend, the forces of Sauron are greatly depleted and are scattered across Middle Earth. We can easily defend ourselves against such foes."

"Your father…"

"My father would expect me to be at the Coronation of King Elessar. And that is something I intend to do. We cannot wait for the men to return to escort us, nor can we take the fishing boats. So by road it is!"

Elimavi knew better than to argue with the princess, the only person that could command her once her mind was set on something was her father. It was a trait her mother had shared.

"Very well my lady, I will see to it that preparations are made." And with that she curtsied and left.

Lothíriel smiled to herself; this was the first journey that she had made without the supervision of either her father or her brothers and she loved to ride. Most ladies of Dol Amroth preferred the more sedate method of travel of a palanquin or a covered barge, both modes would protect them from the eyes of the outside world. The princess, however, took pleasure in seeing her people and the majestic landscapes that could be found around Dol Amroth.

She knew that preparations for such a journey would take a good three days, so she decided to go and see her horse. Arauka, whose name was Sindarin for swift, was practically chomping at the bit when she caught a glimpse of her mistress.

"Hello there Arauka my love," Lothíriel murmured soothingly. "Have you missed me? Here, have a little treat." She said procuring an old carrot that she had picked up from the kitchen. The mare munched happily on the food as Lothíriel began methodically grooming and tacking up her horse.

Soon she was ready to ride and mounted her steed gracefully, opting for the side saddle as she was not wearing her riding dress. Voicing a soft command to Arauka, the pair began to weave their way from the royal stables to the main gates of the city. As she made her way through the streets she greeted the city folk, answering their questions graciously when they asked her what tidings came from Minas Tirith, until she finally made it to the walls. From their outposts the few remaining guards hailed her as she passed out of the city and into the open countryside.

Below her body Lothíriel could feel the muscles bunching in Arauka as she sensed the opportunity was near to finally run. It took but a slight nudge with her heel and suddenly she was flying!

The experience of riding a horse such as Arauka at full gallop was something that is indescribable for those that are not accustomed to riding. It never ceased to amaze Lothíriel how man could tame such powerful beasts for their own uses.

The sun beat down upon the gravel road they were travelling on and a sea wind whipped her hair in a stream behind her. She bore south, pulling gently on the reins, so that Arauka turned off the road and towards the grass hill that sloped down towards the beach. Then they raced along the edge of the shore, both girl and horse laughing at the sea spray that hit their eyes.

Eventually they came to a stop and Lothíriel, still laughing, jumped down onto the sand. Arauka turned her head to nuzzle her mistress while Lothíriel smiled.

"You're going to have no troubles on this journey now are you?"

Arauka whinnied in agreement.

"I thought not! Now come, I will find you a nice grassy patch for you to nibble on and then I can relax in the sun."

Lothíriel sprawled, in a very un-princess-like fashion on the grass banks just beyond the sand and hummed an old tune, a lullaby her mother had sung, to herself. The messenger had not mentioned the fate of her father and brothers, but somehow she knew that they were alright. She like to think that 'no news is good news' anyway in times like this, but that had been hard for her when the skies had been so black and foreboding. Now Spring was most definitely in the air she was able to think of other things, in particular of her future.

Normally a princess of her age, whilst still in her opinion quite young, would have been married off to a Lord of Gondor, or some nobility from another kingdom. However, with more important things on the minds of her father and her uncle, she was yet to be betrothed, but she was sure that her position would not be forgotten for much longer. There had been that occasion where Denethor had threatened, after a particularly daring trick she had played at his house, to marry her off to one of the corsair lords. She had been terrified, especially as she was only 15 at the time, but her father had been so furious at the suggestion that her uncle had insisted it was merely made in jest. Lothíriel had not been so sure.

Regardless, the fact remained that Lothíriel was now almost in her twentieth year and she had no idea who she wished to spend the rest of her life with. All the Gondorian lords that she had met at feasts had seemed too uptight and bound by decorum for her tastes, though she felt, with a slight sense of glum acceptance that this would probably be the most likely outcome.

Perhaps she would live in Minas Tirith? The white city was so like Dol Amroth in many ways, but in others it was far from the sea and so crowded. Many parts of it were falling to ruin these days as well. As a princess she would be confined to the cloying upper levels, not allowed to move as she pleased amongst the people.

The more Lothíriel thought on this matter, the more she was resolved to refuse the hand of any Gondorian lord that her father might choose for her. This was a bold decision, one that she knew could cause her much anguish, but she knew in her heart it was the right one.

With her mind set, she called over to Arauka and headed back to the city. In just three more days they would be setting off, and she needed to prepare.

AN: ps brownie points go to those that review :)