Happy 2020!
Short chapter again, but an important one for Loth.
Chapter 14 - Dreaming
L
'Sleep well, Father.'
'Sweet dreams, my Swan.'
The hallway to my chamber seems long tonight. My footsteps echo and my candle flickers. I cannot wait another second to reach my bed. I have much to think on.
As always, my blankets are turned down, ready for my slumber. I blow out my light, but my eyes stay wide open.
Who is this man?
A warrior.
Yes. Terrifying.
Brave. Strong.
Perhaps. But ruthless.
So is Faramir.
Yes. Also terrifying. Not comforting.
You know Faramir is a good man.
Yes...what is a bad man?
A criminal. A thief. A coward.
Coward?
Yes, coward.
Coward...who is a coward?
A runner. A shirker of duty. Scared.
No, not scared. Father says fear is not a weakness. Is Father a coward?
No. Is Father ruthless?
No! I think not...or must he be? He is a warrior.
Yes. He may be.
Only if he needs to be.
Yes.
Did-did he need to be ruthless today?
He believed so.
Hm. Perhaps…
He was impressive.
Yes. Not sure I forgive him.
For what? He did not slight you.
But Faramir. I had to protect him.
Faramir was not troubled by the man. Why should you be?
I know not.
Simmer down, princess. Do not judge a man of whom you know so little.
I do not trust him.
You do not have to. You do not have to say anything to him ever again, if you so wish.
Yes. I so wish.
Indeed?
I think.
Let us rest. Give him a chance.
Why do I bother with you?
Because I cannot leave you. Give him a chance.
Be quiet.
I see Faramir's face in anguish. Why do you let him hurt me, Lothiriel? Help me! I try to run to my cousin, to shield him from the blow, but my feet cannot move! Lothiriel, please! I want to tell him I am trying, but my voice is gone. I scream and scream, straining every muscle, but no sound escapes my mouth. I cannot see his attacker, only a large shadow looming over him. Again he cries for help. I hear laughter ringing in my ears, echoing around the library. I somehow know this laughter to belong to King Elessar. He has turned on his faithful prince! Help! The figure above the victim becomes clearer, but it is not whom I expect to see. Father! I want to scream at him to leave Faramir alone, but Faramir is no longer in danger. He sits to my right, reading a scroll. Faramir? He ignores me, though I know he hears me.
Cousin, it is me! He scowls at me, holding a finger to his lips. I spin around, wondering where my father went. A tall figure stands in the corner, his back to me. I race toward him, only to be met with a dress! Eowyn! Thank goodness! The figure turns and she is not Eowyn, but my old governess. She smirks at me, telling me I am a dull and uninteresting child. I begin to cry, wailing for my mother. Lothiriel. A soft, low voice breaks through my sobbing. I look up to see that I am in a field, surrounded by rolling hills and sweet, green grass. I am lying down in it. I open my eyes.
The room is dark, but for a sliver of moonlight peeking through my window. Bits of the dream race through my mind. My father, Faramir, the governess, the voice. The voice I do not recognize, even awake. A male voice, but who? I sigh, dreading the answer as it forms in my mind.
Eomer.
.
.
.
Hmmm...what could this mean? See you soon!
-Anarwyn