Imrahil ignored the messenger and sat himself down in his chair, holding the letter in his trembling hands.

He had not expected an official missive from Gondor.

He had not expected a letter from his brother-in-law who never wrote anyway.

He had not expected this cold, factual message.

He stared at the window, but the rain made a hellish noise outside, and however much he tried, he could not see the sea. Even that comfort was withheld from him.

He crumbled the paper, tossed it into the fire with one well-aimed throw and turned back to the messenger. "You may leave."

The man nervously nodded and almost fled out of the room. For a moment, Imrahil felt guilty. It was not like him to annoy an innocent servant.

Before he could call him back to apologise, the man had disappeared though. Instead another head appeared around the corner of the heavy doors of his study. "Imrahil? Are you coming? Our guests are waiting?"

He tried to answer, but the words got stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath to steady himself and shook his head.

His wife slipped inside, letting the door fall shut behind her and she closed the distance between them. "What is wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost. What did Denethor have to say? Don't tell me he is sending you his messages of doom again. Poor Finduilas. I told her last year when we visited, that man keeps on going on about how the dark lord will destroy us all. He should at least try to be more hopeful! If not for himself then for his wife and sons. He will make them all miserable if he continues like this. You at least shoudn't worry, dearest, you know better than to worry about his ramblings by now. He can be so gloomy!"

Imrahil helplessly moved his hand, and held her at an arms distance when she attempted to kiss him. She looked at him with wonder, but he could not explain. He just did not know how to start. Instead he rose and walked to the window. He rested his forehead against the thick glass and thought of the last time he had seen his sister and his brother-in-law.

He had visited Finduilas only six months ago. She had been frail and pale, but that was nothing unusual, and the hopelessness he had seen in her eyes for so long had somewhat subdued. It looked like she was finding peace at last and becoming stronger again after all these years of illness. Her boys had kept him busy while he had been there, and while he played with Boromir and little Faramir, he had seen the love and even joy in her eyes. He had left with a feeling of optimism, she was becoming happier now that her boys were growing.

He jolted as Niluphel embraced him from behind and laid her head against his back. "Imrahil?" she whispered, her worry clearly shining through her words. "Why won't you speak to me? What is wrong, my love?"

He scraped his throat and forced the words out. "Finduilas. She's…."

But before he could finish, before he could find the words, Niluphel interrupted him, as she always did, finishing his sentences for him.

"Is she ill again? Your father has just sent a message that he won't attend the banquet. I guess he got a message too. He must be very worried somehow. He requests you to take his place, so it will be up to us again then to entertain the guests. Luckily Elphir is finally asleep. Did you see how he manages to stand up alone now? Soon he will let go of the tables and chairs and start to walk on his own! The nurse says he is so strong for his age!"

He let his wife ramble on. She meant well. So it would be up to him to host the guests, wonderful. Adrahil probably had assumed that his son was still blissfully unaware of what had passed, or he would not have made his request to replace him at the banquet.

Grimly Imrahil thought that while Denethor had many flaws, his brother-in-law had always recognised and respected the close bond that he shared with Finduilas. Even if it was nothing more than a cold, factual message, he still appreciated the thought that Denethor had spared him in these difficult times. He did not blame him for the tone of the letter. Who knew what his own reaction would be in a similar situation, perhaps it would not be so different from Denethor's, getting the practicalities out of the way so that there would be time to truly grieve alone.

He felt Niluphel's warm arms around him and the feeling of her voice vibrating against his back calmed him. It somehow was soothing to have her so close. "Did you hear Hirluin has not brought his lady? They say he has delayed marrying her now that his father has passed away. Apparently that young fool thinks that it is not appropriate to be happy in such times. Can't you talk to him? You should tell him that his father will not come back even if Hirluin sacrifices his hapinnes!"

Hirluin the fair. Imrahil shook his head, half in reply to his wife. He would not interfere, he simply felt not up to it today, but she was right, his friend did not deserve to be dismissed. He would get a decent welcome. Especially now that he had inherited the lordship of Pinnath Gelin, Dol Amroth would not slight its closest neighbour by not being a proper host.

It was a prince's duty to tuck his feelings safely away and play his role. Hirluin too had understood that part.

Imrahil squared his shoulders and gently undid his wife's hands from around his waist. Turning towards her, he laid a finger on her lips. "Hush, let us go now. I'll tell you about the message later."

She smiled her radiant smile, and he softly kissed her lips. She did not half realise how much he loved her. She playfully slapped his shoulder and held his hand, pulling him with her out of the room.

For less than a second, he resisted her pull and met his own face in the small mirror that hung next to the door. He quickly wiped away the tear that had appeared against his will. There would be time for grieving later.

He had not expected a letter from his brother-in-law.

He had not expected to read that Finduilas had died.