A/N: thankies for the wonderful reviews! some of you may know that i already have chapters 8-11 written for the most part. now remember, reviews make me happy, which makes me write faster (and better). which means that chapters 4-7 will be written faster. and that means that the chapters i've already written will be out quickly, too. which means the story will be finished faster, and then i can crank out my next one (it's also got our favorite king of rohan, a certain shieldmaiden, and a couple new oc's)!
**disclaimer** i don't own the main characters. i only own their personalities. none of the characters are my invention except mista, benn, ara, and aphadon. enjoy the story!
Chapter III
December, T.A. 3020
Lothiriel swiftly packed her belongings into a knapsack. If she left immediately, it would be morning before she was missed. The bells chimed for dinner. Lothiriel swore. She had forgotten about the banquet in honor of Eomer. Someone knocked at the door. "Who is it?"
"It's Ara and Mista. Are you coming?" Ara, Lothiriel's only close Elven friend, spoke, her voice soft and clear, edged with laughter. Lothiriel pushed her pack under the bed, whirling around as the other two entered. They were both in dresses. Ara's was a deep red which off-set her golden hair and blue eyes. Mista wore a dress in a similar style, though her's was a soft sea-green accented with pearl beading. "Why, Lothiriel!" cried Ara, "you aren't even dressed!" The princess was still wearing her leather hunting garments.
She shrugged. "I was out hunting and completely forgot about the banquet tonight."
"Now that won't do, Lothiriel," Mista said. "If I have to wear this fancy get-up--" she gestured to her dress, "--then so do you. Come now, let's find you something decent to wear in the presence of a king."
Fifteen minutes later, Lothiriel exited her room in a blue dress. The sleeves fanned out and had slits from the shoulder to the elbow and from the elbow to the wrist. It was accented with a belt and a fine necklace, both made of mithril. Ara had pulled Lothiriel's unruly dark hair back into a loose braid. She felt and looked radiant. The three women were greeted at the door of the great hall by three men: Aphadon, who took Ara's arm; Benn, a Ranger, who took Mista's arm; and Eomer.
"My lady?" he said, taking Lothiriel's arm.
"We have to sit together, don't we?" she asked stiffly.
"Yes." He escorted her to a seat at the high table. He pulled a chair out for her. She immediately took the empty seat beside it.
Lothiriel turned her chair just enough so that Eomer was almost out of sight. She looked at the other guest beside her. He was a wood-Elf judging by his clothes and dark hair. Before Lothiriel could speak to him, Elrond stood and announced, "Let the feast begin!" The doors to the kitchen were flung open, and Elves began to bring in trays of soup and bread and wine. They served the high table first. Eomer took two bowls of soup and a loaf of bread. He handed a bowl to Lothiriel.
"Thank you," she said placidly. Eomer grunted in reply.
The Elf beside Lothiriel turned. It was Legolas. "Lady Lothiriel," he whispered, "do you know how many Riders of Rohan it takes to light a fire?"
"No. How many?"
"An entire eored. One man to actually light the fire, and the rest to say they could do it faster." Legolas' eyes glittered in amusement at his own joke.
"I could say the same of your people, Elf," muttered Eomer.
"I thought it was a wonderful joke, and true, too. Your people are renowned for their competitiveness," Lothiriel said haughtily.
"Hmph," grunted Eomer, and he took another sip of wine. The meal was not going as he had hoped, for Lothiriel spoke to him only to make biting remarks about himself and his people. He had hoped to redeem himself, but Lothiriel would give him no chance. Not that he blamed her. He had given her no reason to allow him such.
*************
The meal seemed to stretch on forever. Legolas chatted animatedly beside Lothiriel, but she only half- listened. She was impatient for the music to start so she could leave. At long last, the meal drew to a close, and the Elves brought out their instruments, tuning them softly. They began, as always, with songs of the Days of Gondolin and Doriath, from the golden days when Thingol and Melian ruled much of Arda. They then progressed to songs of the Dunedain, singing of the beauty of Numenor. Lothiriel swayed gently with the music, breathing deep the sounds of the old world.
Eventually, the Elves began the songs of the Sea-Kings. Lothiriel stirred from her revery, and making her way out of the hall, she passed by Eomer. He moved to follow her, but Legolas stopped him, saying, "Let her go. The lady has never stayed for the songs of the sea. They are the one thing that has made her stay in Rivendell near unbearable."
**disclaimer** i don't own the main characters. i only own their personalities. none of the characters are my invention except mista, benn, ara, and aphadon. enjoy the story!
Chapter III
December, T.A. 3020
Lothiriel swiftly packed her belongings into a knapsack. If she left immediately, it would be morning before she was missed. The bells chimed for dinner. Lothiriel swore. She had forgotten about the banquet in honor of Eomer. Someone knocked at the door. "Who is it?"
"It's Ara and Mista. Are you coming?" Ara, Lothiriel's only close Elven friend, spoke, her voice soft and clear, edged with laughter. Lothiriel pushed her pack under the bed, whirling around as the other two entered. They were both in dresses. Ara's was a deep red which off-set her golden hair and blue eyes. Mista wore a dress in a similar style, though her's was a soft sea-green accented with pearl beading. "Why, Lothiriel!" cried Ara, "you aren't even dressed!" The princess was still wearing her leather hunting garments.
She shrugged. "I was out hunting and completely forgot about the banquet tonight."
"Now that won't do, Lothiriel," Mista said. "If I have to wear this fancy get-up--" she gestured to her dress, "--then so do you. Come now, let's find you something decent to wear in the presence of a king."
Fifteen minutes later, Lothiriel exited her room in a blue dress. The sleeves fanned out and had slits from the shoulder to the elbow and from the elbow to the wrist. It was accented with a belt and a fine necklace, both made of mithril. Ara had pulled Lothiriel's unruly dark hair back into a loose braid. She felt and looked radiant. The three women were greeted at the door of the great hall by three men: Aphadon, who took Ara's arm; Benn, a Ranger, who took Mista's arm; and Eomer.
"My lady?" he said, taking Lothiriel's arm.
"We have to sit together, don't we?" she asked stiffly.
"Yes." He escorted her to a seat at the high table. He pulled a chair out for her. She immediately took the empty seat beside it.
Lothiriel turned her chair just enough so that Eomer was almost out of sight. She looked at the other guest beside her. He was a wood-Elf judging by his clothes and dark hair. Before Lothiriel could speak to him, Elrond stood and announced, "Let the feast begin!" The doors to the kitchen were flung open, and Elves began to bring in trays of soup and bread and wine. They served the high table first. Eomer took two bowls of soup and a loaf of bread. He handed a bowl to Lothiriel.
"Thank you," she said placidly. Eomer grunted in reply.
The Elf beside Lothiriel turned. It was Legolas. "Lady Lothiriel," he whispered, "do you know how many Riders of Rohan it takes to light a fire?"
"No. How many?"
"An entire eored. One man to actually light the fire, and the rest to say they could do it faster." Legolas' eyes glittered in amusement at his own joke.
"I could say the same of your people, Elf," muttered Eomer.
"I thought it was a wonderful joke, and true, too. Your people are renowned for their competitiveness," Lothiriel said haughtily.
"Hmph," grunted Eomer, and he took another sip of wine. The meal was not going as he had hoped, for Lothiriel spoke to him only to make biting remarks about himself and his people. He had hoped to redeem himself, but Lothiriel would give him no chance. Not that he blamed her. He had given her no reason to allow him such.
*************
The meal seemed to stretch on forever. Legolas chatted animatedly beside Lothiriel, but she only half- listened. She was impatient for the music to start so she could leave. At long last, the meal drew to a close, and the Elves brought out their instruments, tuning them softly. They began, as always, with songs of the Days of Gondolin and Doriath, from the golden days when Thingol and Melian ruled much of Arda. They then progressed to songs of the Dunedain, singing of the beauty of Numenor. Lothiriel swayed gently with the music, breathing deep the sounds of the old world.
Eventually, the Elves began the songs of the Sea-Kings. Lothiriel stirred from her revery, and making her way out of the hall, she passed by Eomer. He moved to follow her, but Legolas stopped him, saying, "Let her go. The lady has never stayed for the songs of the sea. They are the one thing that has made her stay in Rivendell near unbearable."