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?

A/N: I meant to have this up earlier, I really did. But about three weeks ago my computer went all screwball on me and crashed. It's taken forever to reinstall everything, just got the Net back this week. Chapter 6 will not take as long. It's about half finished and will be up next week- PROMISE. Thank you.

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Chapter 5- The Stranger

For Oracle, in the hope that she may forgive my slowness in posting it

Lothiriel awoke in the darkness to the sound of Guthlaf's voice. He was singing words the princess did not understand in the rolling, melodious language of the Rohorrim. She lay there for a moment, confused, until it dawned on her where they were. She stretched and stood up.

Guthlaf turned around and saw that she had awoken. He stopped his song and grinned at her.

"Decided to sleep in, Loth?"

"It's not yet dawn!"

Guth shouldered his pack and held out his hand to her. "True," he said, "but it's a long way back to the castle, and I would rather not see your father's reaction should he find out that you and I didn't return last night."

He was, of course, right. If Prince Imrahil had any reason to suspect that his daughter and the messenger were more than friends, it could turn very ugly indeed.

So she took his hand and they set back the way they had come, towards the castle. They talked as they strode, telling each other of everything that had happened in their respective countries since the last time they had met.

At one point, Lothiriel interrupted her friend's account of Rohan to say something that had been bothering her since the night before.

"Guthlaf, I'm sorry."

He stole a sidelong glance at her and saw that her cheeks were red and she wouldn't look at him, hating to put her pride away.

"Sorry for what, lass?" Though it was not really appropriate to speak with such familiarity to a princess, Guth couldn't help it sometimes. For all her strength and pride, he still saw her as a younger sister who he wanted to protect.

"For crying and carrying on last night. It was… unlike me, to become so passionate about anything. I'll not get carried away like that again."

The messenger felt a stab of sympathy. It wasn't natural, that she should feel so much guilt and embarrassment for something as innocent as telling him her troubles. Impulsively, he stopped and pulled her in for a hug. "Don't be sorry, Loth," he told her, pulling back and looking her in the eye. "You can tell me anything you want to. I'll always be there for you, dearest friend."

"But will you?" she said, half to herself.

"I'd never desert you."

"That's not what I meant. I know you wouldn't. But with your new duties, you'll be near the front of King Theoden's army. Right in the thick of battle. It will be so hard to fight while holding that great banner. I just… I'm just worried for you."

Guthlaf sighed. "I don't know what to say, love. We'll just have to trust in my sword and the good will of the fates. But were I about to be overcome, the thought of leaving you would give me new strength. I promise, Lothiriel, I'll be as careful as I can."

He took her arm again and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

***

The sun was just rising when they arrived back at the castle.

"Oh, I hope no one has discovered we're gone yet…" Lothiriel muttered.

"I'll go up with you," said Guthlaf, in equally heavy tones. "If they have, they'll want an explanation. And if they haven't, I can go out the window again."

"Thank you," the princess sighed, not much relieved. If they had been discovered missing, her father would doubtless jump to conclusions. There would be no convincing him that he was wrong, and Guth's presence probably wouldn't help either.

They went on towards the smaller, kitchen door, careful to stay quiet. They were less than fifty yards away when the sound of hooves was heard in the distance. Guthlaf tugged Lothiriel behind a nearby tree before the horse and rider could come into view.

A lone horseman appeared on the path, riding towards the large front entrance. Lothiriel, who thought she knew of all the messengers who came to her father from foreign lands, did not recognize this man. He sat proud and tall in the saddle, with an air about him that clearly told her that this was no messenger come to her father, no king's page or errand boy. There was something about him that set him apart from all those.

But aside from that, she realized, he was heading towards the front gate. If he got there, he would announce himself and her father would doubtless come out to greet him. Though she was behind a tree, her dress was blue and yellow and she didn't exactly blend in. If the rider reached the castle, she and Guth would be discovered.

It seemed that the same thought had occurred to her best friend, because when Loth looked back to tell him this, there was no one beside her. Guthlaf was already leaping towards the horseman, to head him off and beg him to wait until she had spirited herself back upstairs. At least, this was what Lothiriel assumed he was doing. But why, then, was he smiling so broadly? Little knowing what else to do, she followed him towards the stranger.

Very surprised she was when, upon Guthlaf's reaching the rider, he dismounted and grabbed her friend into a rough, back-slapping hug. Confused and ill at ease, Lothiriel stood by until they had finished greeting each other like brothers or old friends- 'very good friends,' she thought a little jealously. Finally, the stranger noticed her and cleared his throat. Guthlaf stepped back, and Lothiriel got her first clear view of the rider.

The princess had fancied herself quite tall, but he was easily a head above her. He wore armor and good clothing, but it did little to hide the fact that he was more muscular than any young man she had seen in Dol Amroth. He had removed his helm, and her eyes traveled over his face, taking in fair hair and handsome- yes, almost unbearably handsome features. Their gazes locked, and she was taken off guard by his deep brown eyes, wearing an expression that she could not read. She started when Guth's voice cut into her thoughts.

"Lord," he was saying, "this is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, the prince's daughter."

The stranger bowed. As soon as they broke eye contact, Loth came to her senses. She shook herself out of her reverie and set her face into the mask it was accustomed to wearing. It was one thing when she was with Guthlaf, but to the rest of the world she had to remain as hard as rock, as strong as iron, as cold as ice. The ice princess of Dol Amroth, that is what she was. And she would keep that image. No matter how handsome the stranger was.