Look, I am writing this story and not lots of other stuff! Will wonders never cease? (No) Three chapters in six weeks! Be impressed!
As you might have noticed, I have had a tendency to keep mixing up Aragorn's two middle daughters, Anoriel and Araniel. I have been working on this story so long, I am pretty sure they've swapped places a few times, but I have made up my mind and it should all be edited so it is consistent now. Please tell me if you spot any left-over errors.
This chapter does not contain any character introductions of the royal family. Thank Eru. I am so very tired of those. I'd like to say that's all, but it really isn't. I'm sorry. It cannot be helped, unfortunately. This is instead an attempt at getting into some normal Gondorian life.
As before, Lothiriel has mistaken a few things about the princes, and any discrepancies are because of that. It will make sense in this very chapter, I promise. For those of you who read "These Plot Bunnies Who Bite", it probably does already.
I am not the Tolkien estate. Obviously.
TapTap
As the king had now been returned for some weeks, a rutine was settled once more, starting with the king reading letters in his study every morning. In less than a month, the formal social season would be introdused with a ball, and the queen mother was expected to arrive within three weeks to spend the winter in the white city. Already, nobles were arriving to their city houses, meeting the king in formal audiences held every few afternoons.
Normally, the young crown prince was nowhere to be seen, but his uncle often attended, as well as the older lordesse. Usually, one of the other lordesses or not quite lordesses attended as well, but unless it was the captain general, they normally did so out of sight.
This evening, there was a small dinner party held in the citadel. The king of Gondor with his family, including all his lordesses, daughters, grandson and son; Imrahil with his sons and daughter, and Faramir.
Lothiriel had not looked forward to the evening, having now even more northern princesses to steal the eyes of all men in the room - though apparently only half of them were to be adressed as such, as the rest were lordesses - but to her great pleasure, the young prince - the snow prince - was once more at her side, showing her all of his attention, not sparing any for what must be his sisters. She had met his older brother now, a man who looked to be older than the king himself, with several missing fingers and a hand too little. Perhaps that was why he was not the heir to the throne?
Allowing herself to be drawn into the charming ways of the Snow Prince, the evening passed surprisingly easily for Lothiriel. She did find the man a bit boring in his talks about snow and men of war, but one could not overlook that he was Gondorian royalty. After all, if she was married to him, she'd be queen one day, and all nobles had separate bedchambers and separate lives anyway.
She'd not need to talk much to him, after persuading him to propose. Well, unless his father talked to her father, with was really more cultured, but he as a rough northener, after all and couldn't be expected to know how to behave properly as high nobility of Gondor. Besides, most of the time he was a perfect gentleman, listening more than talking, and asking polite questions, as a man ought to behave. The princess - because she was one, whatever they said - was pleased with this.
Arion looked on with amusement on the people around him as they sat in the comfortable drawing room after the dinner. His father; Imrahil and Faramir were talking politics before the fire, the Lordesses, Alasse and Araniel were sprawled across two sofas discussing different ways of training horses and gutting men - in Rohirric to spare the feelings of the Gondorians - and Arwen was sitting in a chair, benevolently smiling as she patiently let Imrahil's three sons fuss over her, taken in by her beauty and high lineage, no doubt.
She seemed very unimpressed in return, clearly preferring Eomer of Rohan's frankness and honest admiration. He knew she had gotten a letter from the man only this afternoon, and like their father, he had good hopes for a lovematch between the two closer to spring.
Himself, he was sitting on another couch, accompanied by his reading nephew and his hound Anarion, Elendil instead choosing to sit by his master by the fire, Gil-ranger guarding Arwen as usual, and Isildur as ever lying by Aradora's feet.
The last two of their company; Imrahil's only daughter, and the lord of the mountains of the north, were sitting closely together, and Arion simply could not distinguish which one of the two were most obviously flirting. The man, nicknamed the snowprince though his family were not even Numenorian, much less royal of origin, was not serious though, seemingly just enjoying the company of a pretty woman.
Lothiriel, however, if his memory of her name served him right, seemed almost predatory. Amusement in the warrior's eyes made him sure he had noticed too. Perhaps she had missunderstood who he was? Surely a minor war-lord was of no interest to a high-born lady of Gondor? Well, he had little doubt that it would all come to rights eventually. There were plenty of cultural differences, but they tended to straighten themselves out with time.
