A Mistress for the Hall

April 3021, Edoras

The morning after the wedding came as bright and fair as spring day could be, and warm sunlight flowed inside the royal chambers of the Golden Hall to summon Lothíriel from her dreams.

At first, she thought nothing except the soft pillow under her cheek and the gentle tickling of light on her neck. In her sleepy mind, she was in Dol Amroth by the sea and time had very little meaning.

But soon enough this imagination grew more and more thin, and she began to notice things that were not familiar. The smell of the room, the sounds carrying from afar, the feel of the mattress... her eyes fluttered open and at once she realised she was not in Gondor.

Lothíriel sat up in the bed and gazed about herself. She was in a spacious chamber, and its furniture was made of dark, polished wood, rich with carvings. There were pelts around the bed – a massive piece with heavy green curtains – and colourful hangings covered the walls. The fireplace was cold and empty, as the season was warm even in this northern land, just as the place next to her in the bed. Her lord husband had decided to spend his first morning as a married man somewhere else than her side.

She breathed deeply, fighting the sensation of doubt at the back of her mind; she couldn't help but remember her sister-in-law's stories, breathlessly shared, of how sweet and wonderful it had been when she and Elphir had got married. But for her, not much had gone according to expectations. Only last night, she had learned the king and queen did not have separate chambers, and she was going to sleep every night for the rest of her life next to the man she had married out of duty. The only private space in this Hall reserved for her was the Queen's Solar, but she didn't think anyone, least of all her newly wedded husband, would take it well if she demanded a bed should be set up for her there.

Now the said man was gone, and she felt suddenly like her insides were twisting into tight knots. What did it mean? Was he not pleased with her? Last night, when he has appeared in this very room wearing nothing but a robe yet somehow looking larger than he ever had, he had told her he wouldn't touch her if she wasn't ready. But she had insisted, telling him they were husband and wife now, and she wanted to be his queen in the fullest sense of the word. So he had joined her in the bed and sealed those oaths they had made before the high and mighty of the western realms. Whether she had been to his liking, she couldn't say. At least now she seriously doubted it, because why else would he have left the bed like a thief in the night?

She had expected Rohirric wedding ceremonies to be simpler than how it was done in Gondor, but couple of days before she had learned otherwise. In fact, her new people placed great deal of significance in their rituals, and she had sensed the solemnity of the moment even if she had not comprehended much of what had been said. What she had understood was that she, with her flower crown and maidens chanting songs of praise around her, was supposed to represent Vána, and her bridegroom stood for Oromë as he rode in his full regalia to claim her. On that moment, when his green cloak billowed behind him and sunlight made his golden hair shine as he rode his great war-horse, it was easy to picture Oromë taking such likeness in the world of Mortal Men. Of course, Rohirrim had other names for the Powers – the Great Hunter they called Béma, but for Vána they had the name of Lǽs. As far as she could tell, each small deed, from the cup of mead they had shared to him giving her the hilt of his sword and her holding the crown of flowers above his head when he lowered himself on one knee before her, held a world of meaning. But even if it was so, King Éomer never smiled once during the ceremony, at least not when she was looking.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Lothíriel spent a long moment just focusing on breathing. It was too soon to worry or wonder if this had been a mistake after all. But even then, she didn't want to be a disappointment. Maybe he had just got cold feet and hadn't known how to face her after their first night together... after all, it wasn't like they had grown any closer during their courtship.

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she thought months that now lay behind. She had been busy preparing for her new life as a queen, picking up a wardrobe fit for her station and whatever objects and artefacts she hoped to use in making Meduseld a court worthy of its king. She had read all the books and scrolls on Rohan she could get in her hands, and even asked if betrothed could send someone to teach her the language and customs of Rohririm. It was hard to tell with King Éomer, but she felt like that particular request had rather pleased him, and he had wasted no time in sending one of his trusted men to instruct her. All this had taken so much of her time she had scarcely thought of what it would be like to actually marry the king of horselords.

And there had been letters. Those written by King Éomer were almost as curt and stiff as the man himself, and read much like a military report. She had done her best in writing bright and pleasant letters for him, hoping to crack his walls and lure out some life, but altogether their correspondence felt a lot as though their very first conversation – superficial, reserved and proper.

Well, this is what I agreed on, Lothíriel reminded herself. A marriage of convenience was a marriage of convenience, and she had known that full well when she had given her answer.

She took a deep breath as she rose from the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. Glancing over her shoulder, she knew it wouldn't be easy to get used to sleeping next to her lord husband. Since leaving the nursery behind, she had always slept alone... she had taken it for granted she'd have rooms of her own, and that he would come to her whenever he felt like fulfilling his marital duties. However, this meant he would be there each and every night, except when he was not at home.

Unless, of course, he grew weary of her and took a mistress...

To rid herself of that surprisingly disturbing idea, Lothíriel hurried to the washing basin and splashed her face with some cold water. She had scarcely wiped her face dry when there was a knock at the door and a pair of maids waltzed inside, curtsying at her and bidding her good morning in Rohirric. Lothíriel had to seek for the proper answer at first, but eventually it came to her; her grasp of the northern tongue had not improved as quickly as she would have liked. Yet as the maids began to whirl around her and help her to dress, she wondered if she was expected to use only Rohirric here. Did these girls even know any Westron?

"My lady, your gowns are so beautiful! You wouldn't find silk like this in Rohan", said the younger of the two as she marvelled over Lothíriel's dress. It was light and silver-grey, with pearls adorning the neckline and the sleeves. She hoped she and her sister-in-law hadn't exaggerated when they had picked up her new wardrobe; it was one thing to look queenly, and entirely another to prance around like some peacock.

"My lord husband is a great king. I wish to reflect his glory in all things", Lothíriel simply said. She was glad not to sound monotonous when she said that, although she had no idea if the King even made notice of what she wore or if it pleased him. The man remained a mystery to her – just as his current absence did. And so, after searching inside her head for the names of these maids, she asked, "Alfrun, have you seen the King this morning?"

"Yes, my lady. He went out riding, like he does every day", Alfrun answered. She spoke good Westron, even if it was with an accent.

"Oh", Lothíriel answered and took seat by the dressing table, which sat on what she took for her side of the chamber. She assumed it had been brought here only very recently. After all, there had not been a queen in this land for many long years.

As the maids worked over her hair, she wondered if she was supposed to wait until the king returned, or if she could go and have breakfast with her father and brothers. They had all come here to attend her wedding, and stay as guests until the celebrations were over. Apparently, Rohirrim were just as eager to make a fuss when their king married. On the other hand, none who lived now had actually seen a royal wedding – Théoden King had been still a Crown Prince when he had married, and his father Thengel King had wedded Morwen in Gondor.

She had met the old woman years ago, and apparently Thengel's wife still lived a quiet, secluded life in Lossarnarch. Morwen Queen would be ancient by now, even with the blood of Númenor sustaining her. What had she felt when both her son and grandson had fallen in the War of the Ring? Lothíriel remembered Rohirrim had called her Steelsheen – a proud name, but cold and hard, too. It was not a name you gave someone you loved.

The young queen looked up again, "Alfrun, are people very disappointed the King didn't find a bride in his own land?"

The question seemed to surprise both the maids somewhat, and they exchanged a quick look before Alfrun answered.

"My lady, the King chooses as he wills. It's not our place to question it", she merely said, and Lothíriel could not really say what they meant by that. Maybe they thought a direct answer would get them in trouble?

It was no use to wonder. She was King Éomer's wife now, and she would do her best despite what people thought of her. Let them say what they wanted and call her a foreigner; meanwhile, she would make sure Meduseld shined as brightly as the gold that had given its name.

She sat up straighter in her chair, and to Lothíriel it seemed like the face in the mirror looked a bit more confident. Yes, she could do this.

The maids were just adding finishing touches to her hair when the door to the bedchamber opened. The King strode in, and by his attire, one could easily have taken him for some ordinary Rider. For he wore a simple linen shirt and breeches, and there were grass stains on his knees. She wasn't surprised to see a sword on his hip – it seemed he went nowhere without taking it along. It was hard to imagine King Elessar ever making such an appearance, but Lothíriel kept that observation to herself.

"Sire", the maids greeted him and curtsied, and at his quick and sharp gesture, they hurried out of the room.

"My lord", Lothíriel said and got up to curtsy as well. It was strange to feel so utterly formal with the man she had lain with only last night. But then, darkness had made everything different – even him. For when he had come to her for the first time as her husband and taken her in his arms, he had been bold and fiery and unreserved.

"Are you ready, my lady? The breakfast will be served soon", he simply said, not looking at her as he started to pull off his clothes. Her cheeks grew warm, even if this just proved what she had suspected already: the man had no sense of modesty at all when it came to his person. Certainly it didn't seem to bother him to be naked before her embarrassed stare.

"Y-yes", she answered in a strangled voice and turned quickly away. Even so, she couldn't help but spy him through the looking glass, and see him washing and then pulling on some fresh clothes, which were also more formal than his previous attire. He moved quickly and efficiently, and soon he was before the basin, combing his long mane and fastening it at the back of his head – it seemed to be his preferred way to wear his hair.

It took him no more than ten minutes to get ready. But then, he had been a Rider for many years, and she guessed such profession rather made sure you were not wasteful with your time.

"Shall we, then?" he asked her curtly, offering her his arm. It seemed chivalry wasn't an entirely foreign concept to him.

"Yes, my lord", she mumbled, took a deep breath and placed her hand on his forearm. Hopefully, the tell-tale blush would be gone from her cheeks by the time they faced the crowd of wedding guests in the Hall.


After the wedding festivities, the crowd of guests went their ways again, and in Edoras, life got back on its usual track. Or, perhaps not the usual, because for the first time in decades, the land had a queen. Instead of housekeepers and substitutes, the Golden Hall was once more managed by the King's consort.

It rather surprised Lothíriel how easy it was to fall into a routine. Each day she woke up in the royal chambers of Meduseld, and more often than not she would see her husband had already got up and left for his morning ride – though in some mornings, he would still be moving about the room, and bid her a stiff, quiet "good morning" before he strode out.

When the maids had come and gone, Lothíriel had her breakfast alone, though for couple first weeks, she had little appetite. But eventually Gytha, the woman previously in charge of the King's household and now the one helping her to get familiar with it, gave her a critical eye and stated she looked skinny.

"You'll get sick, my lady, and what a dreadful thing that would be for a newly married wife!" Gytha said and shook her head; that night at dinner, Lothíriel saw her portion was twice as large as usually. After that, she tried to finish her breakfast entirely, whether she had appetite or not.

Days were busy in Meduseld. Much like back in Dol Amroth, Lothíriel managed the household and supervised the servants, sent orders to craftsmen and merchants, met ladies of noble Eorling houses, and made sure the needs of her lord husband were attended to so meticulously he scarcely even noticed it. Her seat was by his side whenever he held court in the Golden Hall, and her task, almost sacred in its nature, was to pass cups of welcome and parting whenever he left or guests came in their Hall. Whenever he rode out, he'd take one knee before her, and she would place her hands upon his golden-haired head as a wife's blessing for his journey. Whether there was any grace to the gesture, she didn't know; some moments she wondered if it even meant anything before the eyes of the Powers if the act contained no genuine love. But this was how things were done in Rohan, and she would play her part. And Lothíriel couldn't deny she wasn't fascinated with the idea that even a king in this land wasn't so proud he wouldn't ask for the grace of his wife.

There was much to learn about how things were done in Meduseld, what were their customs and habits. At the side, Lothíriel was finding out so much about the Mark itself, and she soon realised she had to relearn many things she had taken for granted until now. She couldn't exactly manage her tasks with such formality as back in Dol Amroth, or plan how to feed the royal household like she was used to, and sometimes numbers were muddled in her head; she'd remember the exact amount of grain in storages of her father's holdings, but have no idea about how much of the last year's potatoes were left. Thankfully, Gytha was always by her side, ready to help out and provide the information she needed – or just act as an interpreter when Lothíriel's broken Rohirric failed her.

Of her lord husband she saw little during the day. Father had said that one day she would rule by the side of King Éomer, but obviously that day wouldn't arrive any time soon; he never asked her to join him whenever he was in council with his Marshals and advisers. But he didn't entirely ignore her political potential, either – whenever he needed to know quickly something about Gondor, maybe of its conditions or people, or sometimes what they thought of whatever thing he had in mind, he would ask her of it. She tried to answer the best she could, hoping that this way, he would grow to trust her.

When she had free time, she often spent it learning about her new home. She received riding lessons from the royal Master of Stables, and often Lothíriel thought to herself how envious her brother Elphir in particular would be, if he saw the kind of horses she trained with now. While she had been an adequate rider before, being the queen of the horselords was quite another thing, and at any rate she ought to prepare for the tour of Rohan they would make in a month or two. The King's own minstrel took over the task of instructing her in Rohirric, and he taught her many songs and tales of Rohirrim. With her maids and one of the local ladies as her guide, she explored the capital of horselords, and she got soon enough over her initial amazement for how boldly the common people would come to greet her on the streets of Edoras.

Often the evening came before she had even time to notice it, and dinner was served in the hall. It had come as a surprise for her, that the king and queen would join the rest of the household for the meal, but that seemed to be the way King Éomer preferred it. At any rate, she was not quite so brave and daring that she'd request to dine alone with him. And at times, she wondered if there had ever been a husband and wife who had as little to say to one another as she and the King did.

And so she'd sit next to him on the dais, mostly focused on her own portion while her lord husband leaned the other way, talking with whichever friend or ally of his happened to have the place of honour by his side that night. But Lothíriel would take her dinner silently, unless she was entertaining one of the Rohirric ladies – usually a wife to one of the king's friends and advisers.

If day's work was done in time for dinner, she would then retire to the Queen's Solar or royal chambers. She would have a bath, or read and write letters, or sit by the fire with her embroidery. It was all too easy to feel lonely there, but on the other hand she didn't really know who she should have invited to keep her company. While ladies of Edoras seemed nice enough, she hadn't yet found it in herself to try and befriend one of them.

Sooner or later her eyelids would begin to droop, and so she would crawl into the bed and doze off. Usually, she startled awake when the king joined her, especially if he reached for her in the darkness of the bedchamber. Then she would open her arms for him and let him undress her. The thing she hadn't expected was that though most of the day, her lord husband was no closer to her than some Doorward would be, at night he was an attentive lover who made sure her duty as a wife was not merely something to be endured.

And every day he proved wrong what she had feared on that first morning of their married life; for each night, though it was late at times, he would climb into the bed and settle down next to her in their marriage bed.


The hardest thing about the whole affair had been saying goodbye to her family after the wedding celebrations came to a close. But Lothíriel had done it with a straight face, sending them on their way – she hadn't wanted them thinking she regretted this. And while in the coming days she often missed them, getting familiar with her new life usually provided her with enough of distraction. With all the duties of the queen, days went by fast.

Lothíriel had been the wife of the King of Rohan for no more than two months when a rider came from Dol Amroth, carrying letters from family and friends. The messenger was none other than her second-oldest brother Erchirion. Upon hearing the arrival of this guest, the young queen had to keep herself from exclaiming in delight. But some enthusiasm must be evident on her face, for Gytha smiled at her and insisted she go to meet her brother.

"I will make sure the prince has a welcome fit for a kinsman", Gytha said and Lothíriel gave her a thankful smile. Though she didn't yet have many friends in Rohan, she felt at least Gytha had established her place on that very short list.

On her way to meet her brother, Lothíriel tried to keep her pace even and retain her dignity. But her heart had picked up a quick pace in her excitement, and she wished she could just fly through the Hall and straight to her sibling.

The Doorwards opened the twin doors for her; usually, she'd smile and thank them when she passed by them. But now she merely hurried outside. The weather was fair and warm and down in the courtyard Lothíriel saw Erchirion. He had just dismounted and was looking around as though he felt a bit lost here. She could very well understand that sensation.

His face lit up when he saw her on the terrace, and Lothíriel hastened down the steps to meet him.

"Brother!" she called out to him in Sindarin – a native tongue for them both. - and when she threw her arms about his neck, he was laughing in delight.

"Sister! It's so good to see you!" he said lightly and lifted her in the air. It was strange to notice that Erchirion, even in holding her up like this, did not possess the skill of making her feel so small as her lord husband did.

When he placed her down again and they weren't laughing anymore, she asked him, "What brings you here, brother? I had no idea we should be expecting you!"

He gave her a broad smile.

"Can't one just visit one's sister? For one, I have piles and piles of letters for you", he answered teasingly, making her roll her eyes, though she was eager for messages from home. Quickly enough he sobered up, "But I do have some formal business here, too. You know Father and King Éomer have had these ongoing negotiations about him lending some Rohirric stallions to breed with our mares. I came here to try and get some kind of a contract finished, though I do not think it will be easy. Your husband is as formidable in bargaining as he is on battlefield."

"The King doesn't do things by halves", she said softly. It was one of the very few things about the King's personality she had discovered so far. One would have thought that after couple of months of marriage, she would have known her spouse a bit better than that. On the other hand, it was hard to get closer to him when they hardly spoke to each other. The thought troubled her more than she could have expected, but once more she reminded herself he had not married her because he wanted her friendship or company.

"Is he home, Lothíriel?" Erchirion asked, causing her wandering thoughts to return to the present moment.

"He rode to Westfold a few days ago, but he should be back by tomorrow", she answered and smiled at her brother once more. She didn't need him knowing about her uneasy musings, because then he'd just go tattling to Father, making their sire doubt whether he had made a mistake in proposing this marriage in the first place.

So she linked her arm with that of her brother and pulled at him gently.

"Come along, brother. We will get you settled down, and then I expect you to tell me the latest gossip of Dol Amroth."

When Erchirion had washed and had a change of clothes, and the knights he had been travelling with had been looked after, Lothíriel was finally able to sit down with her brother in Queen's Solar. Gytha brought them tea and scones dripping with honey and fresh butter, and the two siblings spent the better part of an hour talking about all things small and large that had been going on in Dol Amroth. With a smile on his face, Erchirion related family news and anecdotes on their brother Amrothos' most recent tomfoolery. As a result, Lothíriel found her own spirits lifted, and she laughed long and heartily at her older sibling's words. It felt good to share laughs with a family member after these busy months.

But eventually, a strange look came to the face of her brother and he considered her unlike before now.

"Is something wrong, Erchirion?" she asked him and put down her cup of tea. The set of dishes was fine porcelain from Dol Amroth, meant for her personal use; with a good-humoured smile, Gytha had reported the astonishment of the kitchen staff when they had first seen these pieces. Apparently they hadn't seen anything like before now.

"I was just thinking... sister, does Éomer treat you badly?" he asked in a quiet, low voice.

Hearing his question, she blinked in bewilderment. For a second, she even thought it was supposed to be some kind of a joke, but his expression remained absolutely serious.

"What? How can you ask that?" Lothíriel asked, unable to keep her voice from rising.

"Well, you seem paler and thinner than the last I saw you. And I know you didn't marry him because you are in love with the man, but still... at least I thought this is what you wanted", her brother said carefully, and even in her dismay, she could see he was watching closely for her reaction.

"Brother, I appreciate your concern, but this is really none of your business. My lord husband is perfectly fine and even if I had complaints, I would deal with it myself. I am not a child you have to look out for, Erchirion, and I do not need you meddling with mine and his private life", she said in a loud, firm tone. She couldn't let her brother entertain this idea any longer, or let such a doubt live and grow, because if she did, then it would mean she was a failure. And just after two months! She had not come here to be regarded as a disappointment, especially not by her own family members.

Perhaps there was something ferocious about her voice or her expression, because Erchirion seemed to grow smaller somehow, and he lifted his hands in a disarming gesture.

"Fine, fine. I didn't mean to upset you, Lothíriel. I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself, and you wouldn't have done any of this if you couldn't take it. But you are my only sister, and I know life here in Rohan is different from what we are used to. I just want to know you are all right", he said, his expression reconciling.

"Of course I'm all right. Yes, this land is different, but I am adjusting to it. I am a queen now, Erchirion. And I don't think my lord husband would appreciate it either, if you went around implying this alliance is not a good one. You don't want him to get angry with you, do you, brother? Especially when you are supposed to be here to finalise the negotiations between him and our father?" she asked him stiffly, and Erchirion blinked and looked surprised.

"Sister, you are absolutely fierce", he said at length, his features holding a curious mixture of embarrassment and disarming warmth.

"What did you expect? I married the King of Rohan", she said, still somewhat stiff. Even then, it made her brother smile slightly, and she thought she had managed to convince him.

Fortunately, Erchirion did not resume to the topic after that. Instead, they proceeded to talk about her time so far in this land, and what it was like to see the everyday life of Rohirrim.

But late that night when Lothíriel had gone to bed and the lonely quiet of the bedchamber fell on her, she couldn't help but think about her brother's words. Did she really seem so unhappy to him? At least, past few months she had been too busy to really consider whether she was content or not, and in any case she never forgot this was what she had chosen.

Worse yet, did the King and the household think she was not satisfied? Lothíriel always tried to show them a smiling face and to keep up high spirits. Meduseld was the heart of Rohan; thus, she wanted it to be a light, wholesome place that shined in the centre of this realm – a court that welcomed guests, stood strong in times of strife, and gave warmth to those who needed it. But if there was a seed of doubt in the very core of this Hall, then surely all her efforts were doomed to fail.

Restlessly she turned and worried her lip. Whatever King Éomer thought, he wasn't telling it to her. Why was he always so quiet? Did it mean he was never going to warm up to her? Maybe she was a disappointment to him, and he regretted marrying her... at the very least, it would have been nice to know if he thought well of her. And she remembered how keenly she had tried to win his trust, but how was she to trust him when she couldn't say she even knew him?

Frowning to herself, she wondered why this seemed so important all of a sudden. After all, she had gone through these past few months as well as one could have hoped for. In irritation she turned again, hoping she could somehow go back and shut Erchirion's mouth before he could bring up the blasted idea. What right did he have to meddle with her private life, or plant these misgivings in her head? Everything had been going fairly well, and maybe it was exactly as the King wanted it. He could be entirely happy to just have her at the background, taking care of his home and household, and keep the hearth and the bed warm for him.

Pulling her legs close to her chest, she tried to comfort herself by thinking of future. Perhaps her lord husband would learn to at least appreciate her, if not like her, once she had given him an heir. Wasn't that men like him desperately expected of their wives? It could be they would never grow closer or friendlier than this, but at least she knew she would love his children.

With this thought in mind, she was able to banish her doubts and calm down enough to doze off.

It felt like she had scarcely fallen asleep when a sudden noise woke her up. The night couldn't be very late yet, seeing how dark it was. She startled to sit up, thinking she would see one of the servants or a guard there, perhaps to bring her some urgent news that couldn't wait until morning... however, what she saw was her lord husband with a candle in his hand.

Lothíriel blinked, wondering if she was dreaming after all. As far as she knew, the King wasn't expected back tonight, yet there he was; he stopped next to a table and left the candle there, while he began to pull off his boots.

"My lord", she stammered in surprise, and he looked up at her, "I thought you weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow."

For the briefest moment, she thought she could see a smile on his face in soft candlelight. But how could that be, when he had never actually smiled at her?

"I decided to come home early, and spend the night next to my lovely wife, rather than alone and cold by the side of the road."

To be continued.


A/N: And here is an update at last! Christmas really messed up my writing schedule, so it took a while to get this chapter done. I hope you like it!

The bit about Oromë and Vána and their relation to Rohirric wedding ceremonies are inspired by tumblr posts by anthropologyarda. They talk lengthily about headcanons for Rohirric belief system, which I found rather interesting. As we know so little about Rohirrim and their traditions, I took the liberty of inventing the idea that in the ceremony, the bridegroom stands for Béma, and the bride presents Lǽs (name was invented by anthropologyarda). I shall provide links at my own tumblr; as you know, this site doesn't allow direct links. So, if anyone is interested, go and see the links at my blog!

As always, I'm delighted to receive your comments and likes!


Rinarwen - Thank you! And your comments are always appreciated. :) I do mean to take it a bit farther than this, so no worries!

eschscholzia - Hope you liked this update too!

Tibblets - Thank you!

EStrunk - Glad to hear that! I'm afraid he remains something of a mystery to her right now. We'll see what she'll have to do in order to crack up his walls!

ctipps3 - Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad to hear my stories manage to find such new angles. And that is what I aim for, as I don't think anyone would want to read the same story over and over again!

MadamX - I hope the new adventure satisfies! :)

sailor68 - We'll see about that! :) I'm glad you liked it!

Rachetg - And that is precisely what she did!

Anon - Oh, he's hardly so unwilling! It's just in this version, he's a bit tougher nut to crack. In any case, they are both acting on what they think is their duty, regardless if it's depressing or not.

EugeniaVictoria - I'm glad you liked her! And to me it's fascinating to explore Lothíriel from this angle, as a person with strong desire for life, and for becoming more than just a daughter or wife of some lord.

Katia0203 - I had rather thought the same. It's interesting to examine them as people who have a strong sense of duty and are not so resigned to go along with it. And I agree about Imrahil - I've always imagined as a loving father. He may make mistakes some time in my stories, but I think that just makes him more human, and that behind it, he's always a person who cares deeply for his children.