Disclaimer: I don't own Prince Imrahil, Eomer, Legolas, Aragorn, Guthlaf, or any other character from Lord of the Rings that may come into this story. I don't even own Lothiriel. See The Return of the King, Appendix A, The Kings of the Mark, Third Line, Eomer Eadig for information on her. Everything belongs to JRR Tolkien or whoever he sold it to. Too bad, isn't it?
Title: Nathon Thalion: Lothiriel's Story is the new title. The significance of "Nathon thalion" (Sindarin) will be explained in this chapter.
A/N: For those of you whose IQs are dwarfed by your shoe sizes... dreams, flashbacks and the like will be represented by italics. In these circumstances, they're dreams.
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Chapter 3- The Dreams (part one)
Lothiriel ran barefoot through the shadows cast by the mallorn trees. Eyes blinded by tears, she cast herself onto the grass at the top of Cerin Amroth and sobbed as though her heart would break. News had come from Dol Amroth; her father wanted her back to his realm before the year's end. The journey would take months, and it had been decided that she would leave in seven days. Lothlorien would be her home no longer.
She jumped to her feet, hearing footsteps behind her. Before she could cry out, a pair of strong arms enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. Her tall, lean lover grinned down into the princess' face, overjoyed to see her after their six month's separation. The beaming smile turned to a puzzled frown at the sight of her tear-stained face.
"Lothiriel! What in the name of Mirkwood has happened?"
Stifling her tears, Loth leaned against his comforting warmth. Her voice came muffled from somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. "He's sent for me."
Her lover blanched. "The prince? He wants you to go back?"
She nodded. "I leave seven days from now."
He pulled her down into a sitting position on the grass. He looked her in the eye, and his voice was dark and troubled. "My journeys do not take me to Dol Amroth. You know that, lass."
"I do."
"We will not see each other for a long time. There are rumors, Loth, of a shadow and a threat that will not be ignored much longer. If you go away now, we may not meet again, ever."
Lothiriel turned away, trying unsuccessfully not to cry again. "If that is our fate," she said, attempting to sound level and calm, "then I will accept it."
"It cannot be our fate. And if it is, then it will have to be changed. I'll come for you, love. In a year, or twenty, it doesn't matter. I'll come and get you eventually, so you had well be ready for me."
Lothiriel gave a glad sob and hugged him harder than she ever had before. "Nathon thalion," she murmured. He pulled back and cupped her chin, drawing her face toward his in a gentle kiss that was made perfect by the moonlight, the stars and the love that surrounded them unbroken.
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Loth woke up to see only the forest, a crackling fire and her sleeping friend. She sternly kept down the tears that welled up in her eyes. Too much crying for one day, especially for a girl known to be cold and hard to all around her. Just as sternly, she banished the thoughts of him from her mind. It had been four years since the night on Cerin Amroth when he promised to come for her, and neither word nor sight of him had she had since then. She remained steady in her belief that he would come one day. But until then, no emotions could show; no one except Guthlaf could know of his existence. She had to remain strong.
"Nathon thalion," she whispered. Through the years, it had echoed in her mind like an endless refrain whenever she felt the urge to give in to her feelings. Nathon thalion. I will be strong.
The princess lay back down to sleep, unaware that several miles behind her, back at the castle, her father was dreaming too.
