Prince Imrahil and his three sons gathered in the study on a wintry night. Normally, Imrahil allowed his sons to enter his private den, but circumstances altered the rules. Five-year old Amrothos sat on his father's knee, watching twelve-year old Elphir pace the room. Erchirion stared dismally out the window into the stormy night.
"Father," said Elphir, "why did the baby choose a stormy night in the middle of winter to come into the world?"
"He or she may not be aware of the weather, Elphir," remarked Erchirion from his post. "I have never seen the lightning flash so."
After handing Amrothos to Elphir, Imrahil joined his middle son. He breathed, "Look at the waves! They rear like their frothy heads liked infuriated bulls. It seems that the heavens are emptying angry torrents. See how the wild winds sweep the rains across the tumultuous sea as one would let loose a drawn curtain."
"What does 'tumultuous' mean?" questioned Erchirion, stumbling over the new word. At nine, he was always listening for new words to add to his vocabulary.
Imrahil answered, "It means agitated. Now, come away from the window."
"I heard that the occurrence, weather, or season a child is born in determines the child's temperament," Elphir observed, grabbing Amrothos's nightgown to keep him from heading towards the merry fire. "Erchirion was born during a spring day, and he is as gay as a lark."
"And you are as grave as the day you were born in," smiled Imrahil. "And Amrothos, little man, you caused some trouble while your mother and I were on a boating excursion. Since then, you have been a little mischief-maker." He swung Amrothos into the air while the boy crowed gleefully.
"Surely the new baby will have the strongest will or the worst fits out of the three of us," said Erchirion, thoughtfully. He then laughed, "What a foursome we shall be, Father, getting into endless scrapes.
"Maybe," said Imrahil quietly. "Elphir, add another log onto the fire. Erchirion, please ring for a servant."
While Elphir and Erchirion obeyed, Amrothos began nodding off. It was way past his bedtime, and he had enough of fighting sleepiness for the sake of his new sibling. A wide-eyed servant answered the summons and took Amrothos off to his bed. Unfortunately, the servant had no news of the birth.
Eventually midnight struck. Elphir dozed on the couch with a book on his lap while Erchirion slumbered on the great, fluffy rug in front of the fireplace. Imrahil smiled at the sight of his two sleeping boys before brooding on the other times he had to wait. Was the last time his wife went into labor as long as this one? He could not quite remember. He was definitely quite nervous, but he did not wish to show it to his equally nervous boys. Now since they were more or less asleep, he let the worry cloud his brow.
When his book fell to the floor, Elphir awoke with a start. His brother had given up staying up, and his father sat in his easy chair with a strange expression. He softly knelt beside him and whispered, "Father, will Mother be alright?"
"I hope so," said he. "I best get Erchirion to bed, and you also must retire. It is past midnight, and I will not have you stay up any longer."
Without further ado, he tucked Erchirion in bed. Elphir was more reluctant to fall to his bed, but a very loud yawn betrayed him. Soon, all three sons were soundly asleep. Outside, the storm abated into a gentle patter against the window.
The sun rose the next day, greeting the newborn and her mother. Imrahil sat next to his weary wife, cradling the slumbering little bundle.
"What shall we name her?" his wife asked.
Imrahil thought a moment before answering, "Maybe something that means winter storm."
"What about Lothíriel?"
Imrahil chuckled, "Flower-garlanded maiden? She might turn out to be more like her brothers than a little lady."
"Blooming flowers often give me hope, and I should like my little girl to be a sign of hope. Besides, I do not think she will be like our rowdy boys. It seems that she was a bit shy about meeting the world while her brothers, especially Amrothos, were rather eager to greet the world. "
"I hope suitors will not strip our gardens in efforts to literally make her a flower-garlanded maiden," smiled Imrahil, fondly kissing his wife.
Soon after, Imrahil and his wife heard their sons running down the hall to greet both mother and child. Elphir was the first one to enter because his legs were the longest. Eventually, Erchirion arrived, panting slightly. Amrothos soon followed with a rather red face.
"Come meet your little sister, boys," Imrahil said tenderly. "Mother is very tired, so direct all your questions to me."
"Is she like last night's storm?" Elphir immediately asked.
Erchirion queried, "What is her name?"
"When will te blay wit me?" Amrothos verbalized.
Imrahil chuckled, "Her name is Lothíriel, and she has been quite a quiet baby, so far. Amrothos, my boy, she will play with you when she is old enough."
The littlest of their boys nodded solemnly and stared inquisitively at the wrinkled face of the baby. "I will wait den," he said resolutely, "until te is big like me."
Six months later, Imrahil's father, Adrahil, returned from a lengthy trip to Minas Tirith. His greeting party consisted of his family, for he wished his return to be a quiet one. He was not a weak old man with a hunched back. Tall and strong with clear eyes was he. This surprised Imrahil's sons, for they imagined him as a different sort of man. They quickly welcomed their grandfather as loudly as boys can. Then, they clamored to see what he brought them. Each received a fine knife, but Imrahil quickly took charge of the knives, for any sharp object was a dangerous plaything.
"And how do you fare, Eälótë 1?" he said, greeting his daughter-in-law. "I hear you brought in a new addition to the family."
Imrahil's wife smiled warmly, "I am well, sir. This is little Lothíriel." She held out the little bundle in her arms to Adrahil.
"I shall hold the child when I have bathed," said he. "She is a delicate little creature, and I must take every precaution when around her."
That night after all the boys were sent to bed, Adrahil finally held the little girl in his arms. He marveled at the child's small size and mild conduct. He remarked softly, "This is the first time I have held a granddaughter, for all my grandchildren have been boys until now."
A foreboding thought passed through Eälótë's mind. She silently regarded her sleeping babe, not revealing her unsettled mind. Eventually, she excused herself and the child, kissing her father-in-law goodnight before leaving the father and son.
In her room, Eälótë tenderly placed Lothíriel in her cradle. Her darling little girl only cried when hungry and tired. She was so much easier to care for than her three brothers. The baby awoke and stared into her mother's concerned eyes.
Author's Note: As always, I love receiving constructive criticism and encouragements! So, drop me a review!
1Eälótë is Quenya for sea flower.