"My Father's Will"

Who am I? Well, that's a pretty question if ever I heard one. I'm a human, of course. A mortal woman. I was born in Gondor, but as it turns out I have little or none of the blood of Gondor running in my veins. But I will speak more of that later. I live in the north now, wandering the wilds by myself. How did I come to be here? Well...

It all began when I was just a young girl, only ten. Minas Tirith was attacked by the Dark Lord Sauron, and the soldiers rode out to fight. The Lady Éowyn went too, disguised as the soldier Dernhelm. My father went, and my mother worked as a caretaker for the wounded. Of course, I was expected to do nothing, because I was just a girl. But it was now that I got my first taste of what life was like.

Seeing my father ride out to battle with the grim look on his face scared me. It wasn't until later that I realized that he knew he wasn't coming back. He was quite aware that he would die in battle, though at the time I was not.

"You're a brave little girl, you know that, Astal?" he had said to me seriously, solemnly.

"Brave like you, Father?" I cried, gleeful. It was of course the ultimate compliment to be brave like my father. In my eyes he was the greatest human who ever lived.

"No, Astal," he said sadly. "You're much braver than I shall ever be." He leaned forward and kissed my brow and pulled me into a hug. "Take care of your mother while I'm gone," he commanded.

"Yes, Father," I had answered proudly.

He smiled wanly at me, requested that I find his cloak for him, and went to bid my mother farewell. Dutifully I ran to find his cloak, but when I returned he had gone.

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Father never returned. He was a fairly old man by then, and he had never been a warrior. His skills had been with architecture. He was, after all, one of the greatest architects in the history of the White City. My mother never truly recovered from my father's death. Fortunately, he had saved more than enough to support my mother and myself for quite some time. My mother's spirit broken, she never returned to the Houses of Healing where she worked with the healers. She spent the remaining few years of her life locked in her room, crying until there were no tears left, when she would simply stare out the window at nothing at all.

I wasn't ready when my mother died. No one is ever ready for the death of someone close to them, but I was even less prepared because I wasn't close to my mother; she was just a companion. Less than that, really; I was her caretaker and she mine. But I was only seventeen when she died. Old enough to take care of myself, yes, but young enough that I still had need of a mother.

By this time the War was long over, and Gondor had entered the Fourth Age. The King Elessar ruled justly with his elven wife Arwen Undómiel. As was the custom for orphans, I was taken before the King and Queen for them to decide my fate.

They listened kindly, sympathetically, when I told them my story. Perhaps it was unnecessary to explain, because my father was fairly highly born. A second cousin of Denethor himself, we had never been wanting, but I explained how my father had worked loyally for Denethor, and had laid down his life to fight for Faramir. I explained how much it had hurt my mother when he died. I explained how hard I had worked in the kitchens of the palace after our savings had diminished. I explained that, after work, I had saved my money and paid for lessons in the arts of archery and sword fighting. I did not explain how afraid I was for my future. What would become of me? Who would take me in? Why did I deserve such charity? My father had died in battle, alone, while I had played with my dolls at home. My mother had died at home, alone, while I laughed with friends in the warm kitchens of the palace. No, I did not deserve such treatment, but here I was, before the King and Queen.

They thought hard for a few moments. The Queen looked at me with pity. "You have had a hard time then," she stated softly. I noddded. She continued, "have you any preference as to where you go now?"

I shook my head. "No," I told her. "I don't have any living relatives that I know of, except the Lord Faramir, who is a distant cousin through his father and mine." I laughed ruefully. "And I shan't be moved from Minas Tirith, I know that." I looked at her. "No, my Lady, I can find work here in the city. It wasn't necessary for you to hear me, but for..."

"But for ancient Gondorian tradition," said the King sternly, so sternly that I thought he was angry for a moment. He continued, "Long have the leaders of this land listened to the stories of the orphans, and long have we found them homes and lives." He looked at me hard before continuing. "Have you read your father's will? Did he have plans at all for your future?"

Taken aback, I replied, "No, my Lord, not to my knowledge. My mother never mentioned such things..."

Shaking his head, the King summoned a servant. He sent the servant down into the official archives. "Your father would have arranged for your future, I'm sure of it, Lady Astal," he told me. I was immediatly even more uncomfortable. Never before had I been called that, although I suppose that is my true name. My family had never wanted servants, and I never had wanted to be addressed by the formal title. My thoughts were interrupted a few seconds later by the arrival of the King's friends, an elf and a dwarf.

It seemed that he had been expecting them. He bent his head and spoke quietly with them for a moment, and his face turned solemn. Uncomfortable, I waited a little way off. I had not yet been dismissed, but I was not sure if I was to stay. However, the servant soon returned from the archives, carrying a scroll, which he handed to the King.

King Elessar took the scroll and read it. The elf and dwarf waited beside him while he finished the matter with me. Finally he looked up at me. "It appears that your father did arrange for your future, Lady Astal," he told me. I was surprised but said nothing. He continued, "It seems that he had a marriage arranged for you.

I gaped at him, quite disrespectfully. "Who?" I sputtered, all etiquette forgotten.

He peered at the paper. "Ah!" he said. "Gormin, son of Lord Garlamin."

My heart stopped. I knew who Gormin was. I saw him nearly every day, and he was a disgusting twenty year old young man. He was usually hanging about the town square when I left work in the evenings. A member of an unruly gang of young men, I wouldn't trust Gormin as far as I could throw a stone. And, being a fairly strong person, I could probably throw that stone far. Some of my dismay must have shown in my face, for the Queen said sympathetically, "You know him?"

I nodded. "He..." I broke off and shuddered. "Surely I am not to marry him?"

"If I might, Aragorn," broke in the elf. I blinked. I had forgotten that he and the dwarf were even there. "Surely the Lady Astal is old enough by now to make that decision for herself?"

I looked at the elf in shock. This was my father's will. I would not go against his wishes, no matter how much I hated Gormin. I turned to stare pleadingly at the King, who had already seen the look in my eyes.

"Unfortunately, Legolas my friend, I can't do that," he said unhappily. The King turned to me. "Well, Lady Astal, I will arrange for a meeting between the family of Lord Garlamin and yourself as soon as possible." He said it in a tone that would allow no argument, from myself or any of his friends, but he said it gently.

"Yes, my Lord," I said meekly. The Queen looked at me with compassion and smiled gently, but I did not see it. My mind was too numb with horror at the thought of a lifetime as Gormin's wife.

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Four days later I found myself in the sitting room of Lord Garlamin. The room was plain but beautiful, much as ours had been before my family fell apart and we had allowed the home to fall into disrepair.

Gormin and his parents sat before me. Garlamin was a kind enough man, if a little rough in his ways. His wife, however, was a different story. Lady Lienin was as cold and harsh as a blizzard on Caradhras, and just as brutal and unforgiving. Even to her own son and husband, Lienin was unkind and strict and critical.

I surveyed the three nobles before me with not a little trepidation. They were a powerful family, not to be trifled with.

Garlamin was a stocky, powerful man. His weathered face and grizzled beard made him look like he had spent half his life in the wilds, though in truth he rarely left Minas Tirith. The deep green silk and gold embroidery on his tunic contrasted sharply with his less-than-refined face.

Lady Lienin was what other women might call "hideously beautiful." By that I mean that she had a cold, perfect beauty to her, the kind of beauty that other women would sell their souls to have. However, her beauty didn't reach any further than her face; her gray eyes were as hard as granite to most people, but they twinkled like diamonds when Lienin wanted something. Even the gray streaks in Lienin's glossy black hair were beautiful. Lienin was gorgeous, and she was no fool. It was a deadly combination in the upper-class society.

Gormin himself was a nice looking young man. In truth he wasn't nearly as awful to be around as many of his friends were, but I found his morals to be sketchy at the best of times. He had his father's messy sandy-brown hair and his father's dark brown eyes, but he had his mother's sharp features. By this I do not mean that he was feminine in appearance; I simply mean that his face resembled his mother's in many ways. At the moment Gormin was examining me with a speculative gleam in his eyes which I found to be... worrying.

The silence in the room lengthened. Nervously, I smoothed my skirts. I had worn my best dress today. I liked dressing up, I liked playing the part of a lady when I got the chance, but in my life such an opportunity rarely presented itself.

Today I had chosen to wear a green satiny gown with gold needlework on the hems. Green and gold were the colors of Garlamin's House, and I wanted to make a good impression. Whatever else I was, I was not the rebellious type, and I wanted nothing more than to live up to my father's expectations and wishes, no matter how much I was repulsed by the idea of spending the rest of my life with Gormin.

Toying with a loose piece of gold thread, I sighed softly and asked Lord Garlamin when the wedding was to take place.

His answer sent my world crashing down about me.