Chapter I
December, T.A. 3019
The snows halted nearly two weeks after Lothiriel received the letter from her father. She was in Queen Arwen's old room sewing new dresses with her friend Ara for the wintertide festival when Aphadon came to the door.
"Lady Lothiriel? Lord Elrond would like to see you in the library. There are people with him, travelers, who say they are to take you to Dol Amroth."
"Mista is here? Valar be praised!" She turned to the Elf who was still sewing a golden dress. "Ara, I'm going home!" Lothiriel stood and followed Aphadon to the library where he knocked on the door.
"Come in," called Lord Elrond.
As she entered the room, Lothiriel noticed a Man in strange garb standing with Mista and Lord Elrond. He was a handsome man, draped in a cloak with intricate designs of horses upon it, though Lothiriel could not place the device. His eyes were blue-grey and his hair long and blonde, but he was obviously not an Elf, for he was shorter of stature and stockier of build than the Eldar. "Lord Elrond," Lothiriel said, curtsying to both him and the stranger in one motion, "you requested my presence?"
"Lady Lothiriel, I would like for you to meet Eomer, King of the Mark. He has traveled from Rohan with Mista."
Lothiriel's heart dropped. This was the man she was being forced to marry. "My lady," the Man said, bowing as he took her hand, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you." He smiled kindly.
"The pleasure is all mine," she replied stiffly, attempting to match his smile, but failing. She turned to Mista, who was standing by the window. "Mista, I am so glad you are here! It's been over a year, hasn't it? We have so much to talk about!" Lothiriel gave her friend an insistent look.
Mista smiled. "Aye, we do. Sirs, if you will excuse us?" The Man and Elf bowed their heads, and the two friends exited the library.
Outside, Lothiriel sighed. "Thank the Valar you were in there, Mista. I couldn't have gotten away from him if you hadn't been. Oh, Mista, I do not believe I can marry him. We are a political match, a princess and a king. How can I marry someone I do not truly love? How does my father expect me to marry a man I barely know? Half a year is not enough time, surely." The companions made their way out toward the gardens, talking while doing so.
"Alta Eru, no. I know couples who grew up with each other and waited two or more years after their engagement before wedding! The king and queen knew each other for sixty-five years before their wedding last summer. Of course, they will live much longer than most people, so they are allowed to wait so long. But your father's wishes? They are insane! I am surprised that Éomer agreed to them, but it may be the custom of his people to have weddings on short notice. Goodness knows Eowyn and Faramir were married under such circumstances."
Lothiriel gasped, for she had not realized Faramir was already married. "Y-you mean Faramir i-is married?"
"What? Hadn't you heard? Faramir married Eomer's sister shortly after Lord Aragorn and Arwen were wed. Surely Lord Elrond told you?"
"I had no knowledge of it, my friend," Lothiriel answered, sitting on a bench. "I wish I had been there for the wedding." Tears slowly welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. "Is-is he happy with her?"
"Yes, I believe that he is. You know the story don't you? Eowyn and Meriadoc Brandybuck killed the Witch King and were sent to the houses of healing."
"Yes, I heard the tale. No one ever mentioned that Faramir fell in love with her, though I am not surprised he did....He always was the sort who would fall in love with a warrior. Maybe that is why we were not...." The woman drifted off into silence. She had never been as adventurous as Mista or Faramir when they were younger. She had grown more so these last twelve years with the Elves. There was little else to do in Imladris; Lothiriel had the choice of embroidery or archery. She usually chose the latter. Embroidery was boring, and Arwen had disliked it as much Lothiriel had.
Mista looked at her with consternation. "Now stop that talk. You know full well that your father and Denethor would never have agreed to your marriage! They never agreed about anything after the death of Lady Finduilas. And besides, Eomer is a decent enough man. I have traveled with him for a long time, you know."
December, T.A. 3019
The snows halted nearly two weeks after Lothiriel received the letter from her father. She was in Queen Arwen's old room sewing new dresses with her friend Ara for the wintertide festival when Aphadon came to the door.
"Lady Lothiriel? Lord Elrond would like to see you in the library. There are people with him, travelers, who say they are to take you to Dol Amroth."
"Mista is here? Valar be praised!" She turned to the Elf who was still sewing a golden dress. "Ara, I'm going home!" Lothiriel stood and followed Aphadon to the library where he knocked on the door.
"Come in," called Lord Elrond.
As she entered the room, Lothiriel noticed a Man in strange garb standing with Mista and Lord Elrond. He was a handsome man, draped in a cloak with intricate designs of horses upon it, though Lothiriel could not place the device. His eyes were blue-grey and his hair long and blonde, but he was obviously not an Elf, for he was shorter of stature and stockier of build than the Eldar. "Lord Elrond," Lothiriel said, curtsying to both him and the stranger in one motion, "you requested my presence?"
"Lady Lothiriel, I would like for you to meet Eomer, King of the Mark. He has traveled from Rohan with Mista."
Lothiriel's heart dropped. This was the man she was being forced to marry. "My lady," the Man said, bowing as he took her hand, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you." He smiled kindly.
"The pleasure is all mine," she replied stiffly, attempting to match his smile, but failing. She turned to Mista, who was standing by the window. "Mista, I am so glad you are here! It's been over a year, hasn't it? We have so much to talk about!" Lothiriel gave her friend an insistent look.
Mista smiled. "Aye, we do. Sirs, if you will excuse us?" The Man and Elf bowed their heads, and the two friends exited the library.
Outside, Lothiriel sighed. "Thank the Valar you were in there, Mista. I couldn't have gotten away from him if you hadn't been. Oh, Mista, I do not believe I can marry him. We are a political match, a princess and a king. How can I marry someone I do not truly love? How does my father expect me to marry a man I barely know? Half a year is not enough time, surely." The companions made their way out toward the gardens, talking while doing so.
"Alta Eru, no. I know couples who grew up with each other and waited two or more years after their engagement before wedding! The king and queen knew each other for sixty-five years before their wedding last summer. Of course, they will live much longer than most people, so they are allowed to wait so long. But your father's wishes? They are insane! I am surprised that Éomer agreed to them, but it may be the custom of his people to have weddings on short notice. Goodness knows Eowyn and Faramir were married under such circumstances."
Lothiriel gasped, for she had not realized Faramir was already married. "Y-you mean Faramir i-is married?"
"What? Hadn't you heard? Faramir married Eomer's sister shortly after Lord Aragorn and Arwen were wed. Surely Lord Elrond told you?"
"I had no knowledge of it, my friend," Lothiriel answered, sitting on a bench. "I wish I had been there for the wedding." Tears slowly welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. "Is-is he happy with her?"
"Yes, I believe that he is. You know the story don't you? Eowyn and Meriadoc Brandybuck killed the Witch King and were sent to the houses of healing."
"Yes, I heard the tale. No one ever mentioned that Faramir fell in love with her, though I am not surprised he did....He always was the sort who would fall in love with a warrior. Maybe that is why we were not...." The woman drifted off into silence. She had never been as adventurous as Mista or Faramir when they were younger. She had grown more so these last twelve years with the Elves. There was little else to do in Imladris; Lothiriel had the choice of embroidery or archery. She usually chose the latter. Embroidery was boring, and Arwen had disliked it as much Lothiriel had.
Mista looked at her with consternation. "Now stop that talk. You know full well that your father and Denethor would never have agreed to your marriage! They never agreed about anything after the death of Lady Finduilas. And besides, Eomer is a decent enough man. I have traveled with him for a long time, you know."