Lady Lothiriel watched with her jaw set tight, though she knew it was unattractive, how even her brothers swarmed around the princess from Arnor. They had been one week in Rohan, had seen King Theoden laid to rest, and she was already sick and tired of this country. Tired of the horses and the grass and of every man around her paying attention to another woman as if she was not even here!

Princess Arwen's sister, not the bastard in the stables, nor the one who thought she was a man, but the other sister, had left before they'd even had a chance to meet her. To make her feel completely left out, Lothiriel had not even been introduced to the princes, as she had arrived late for the meal on the first day - an hour was far too short a time to get ready for dinner at all, let alone after a long ride!

The noblewoman - apparently she was not allowed to even call herself a princess anymore, as those barbaric northerners said that she was the daughter of a prince, not a king - watched on irritably, wondering if perhaps her father and the king would arrange a marriage between her and the younger prince, the crown prince. Surely she was the best match for him? Unless the king was a widower, of course. She'd rather not marry the rohirric king if she could avoid it - she did not like this place one bit. The ragtag princess who thought she was so special was welcome to him, the gondorian lady thought uncharitably.

"You look lonely, my lady". Lothiriel looked up to see a charming, numenorian-looking man just beside her. He was handsome and looked just a bit older than she was. "May I?" when she nodded, he sat down next to her, smiling. "And who are you? Are you from Arnor?" she asked. He was really quite handsome, and he looked as if he could be of noble blood. "I am the Snowprince" he replied, smiling still, and very charming.

Lothiriel found herself smiling back. So this was the king's second son, then. He was the right age, and very handsome with his dark eyes, not the classic numenorian colour, and just slightly shorter hair than was the average. As he asked for her name, he took her hand in both of his and kissed it. Lothiriel felt good for the first time in days.

"They say you are good with Quenya" Aramir looked up, sitting outside the Meduseld with several of his family's large wolfhounds, to see Faramir standing near the doors. "May I join you?" "Certainly" the prince smiled slightly. "I have been taught it enough. I suspect I will see much work in the archives with you and my uncle". "Well, that would be pleasant work, though dusty" Faramir sat down. "These really are some of the largest hounds I have ever had the pleasure to get to know. I don't think I've ever heard their names".

"It would be" the young man agreed. "Well, the large one with the dark grey furr is Elendil, he is Atada's. Then there's Anarion" he patted the dog that had its head in his lap "you know because he is so light grey. He belongs to my uncle, sort of. There's Gil-ranger, one of my aunts named him" the boy grins "he isn't here now, he is probably guarding my youngest aunt, he does that. Then" he nods simply to the last, slightly smaller hound" that's Isildur, he belongs to my full aunt, my father's twin sister. He never, ever comes when anybody else calls. Not even Atada - nobody does that. Ignore him, I mean". "Well, dogs are faithful, but it seems it is still lucky they rarely get sentenced guilty of treason" Faramir joked.

"I'm sorry" Aramir looked up suddenly, meeting his eyes. "For your father. And your brother. I never had a brother, but my uncle tried to be like a big brother to me. I think I get it" "I am sure you do" Faramir replied honestly. He then hesitated, before he admitted. "My father wasn't always the greatest of fathers, but he was a good man".

"Nor was mine. I... people say I have lost my father, but I haven't, really" the young prince met Faramir's eyes unvaveringly, his gaze very steady "I cannot say that I have. My father is in there" the nodded his head backwards against the hall "I just don't name him father. But he is". "He seems a great man. I haven't known him for long, but I am glad we have gotten him for a king" Faramir answered honestly. "We are lucky" the prince agreed, and they nodded in understanding, two very different men, but with very similar hearts.

So, apparently I cannot, when left to my own devises, spell Roheryn like a normal person, but that has been fixed! I am normally good with spelling things, generally, but that one is tricky, one has to admit!

It has been pointed out that "Eowyn" is a rohirric name - Eowyn the stablemaster's father was rohirric, which is also why she looks rohirric, and he chose part of her name. Who he was and why Aragorn ended up raising his child, will make complete sense later on. This is also the case of why Arion claims to have more brothers than he ought to have, at this point, and, strangely unrelated, you will discover, the apparent disrepancy with princes (and hands) you might notice in this chapter. Trust me, it is meant to be that way and you will know why eventually. I chose the name Eowyn as life works that way - strange and truly unbelievable coincidences are so common.

Also, I should perhaps point out that Faramir is not flirting with someone underage in this chapter, they are just bonding over elvish history. In this day and age their conversation could possibly be enterpreted as slightly flirtatious if you have those glasses on, so I'll just clearify right here and now that no such thing is intended, at all, I am just using a spot of oldfashion language. This is Lord of the Rings, sandbox edition, after all. Besides, Faramir is totally spoken for!

No copyright infringement is intented.

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