Lothiriel speaks:
I am old.
Not by my lineage's long years but I feel it.
Watching the newly crowned King of Rohan laugh with his men and flirt with the ladies of the court, I feel it.
My son is King and my husband is dead.
There is so much of his father in Elfwine. He may have my dark mane, out of place amongst these fair-haired horsemen but behind his eyes I see Eomer's strength.
My little boy. Champion of men. His parent's saviour.
Few are still breathing who remember our rocky road. The dangers faced will not be sung at banquettes.
I feel like the old bard who sat in the Market Square during my childhood, his hands too gnarled by age to use the harp resting on his back. Telling tales of his life.
In my lifetime I have started many journals none lasted beyond the quiet winter months. This one must I doubt I'll be able to start another.
My tale starts in Dol Amroth, the largest city in Gondor's fief of Belfalas.
A city of sailors, immigrants and traders ruled by descendants of the first born.
The place I was teased mercilessly by my five elder brothers, adored by my father and taught hard lessons from my mother. Even after all these years I can close my eyes and smell it's salty sea air.
But the beginning;
The days were so dark and I felt so lost. Gondor called us to war and my father answered with nearly all our forces. Leaving my younger brother Amrothos, who was more a sailor than warrior and myself, in my deceased mother's role as Princess to protect the land.
Good men died, great deeds were done, the long awaited King took his rightful place and my family returned to the safety of our bay. But my father Prince Imrahil stayed for too short a time before departing once again.
I missed him terribly.
Of Swans and Horses- Homecoming"The podium for the musicians will be over there so we can have the parade come along here." Lowering her arm Princess Lothiriel glanced at Hilar, the city dock master was staring out to sea, a lost look on his face. "Are you listening to me sir?" She demanded. One hand clutched desperately at her hair, protecting it from the rough wind not wanting to look like a vengeful sea demon. The other held a thick scroll used quite effectively in her opinion as a gesturing tool.
Lothiriel longed to return to the palace library and hide from ever making another decision.
The preparations for the winter festival were proving impossible. Every guild felt they were doing more than the other was. Now it seemed even her most stalwart ally was going to cause problems.
"Of course Highness but if the dancers maybe-"
Smile fixed Lothiriel unrolled the scroll, releasing her unruly brown curls to the wind's care and listened to yet another opinion.
Her business at the docks completed Lothiriel went to the Osprey Inn for the Harvest moon Guild Assembly. Hours of arguing and every agreement hard fought ensued.
She would only ever admit it to herself but Lothirel enjoyed the back and forth wrangling for a decision. It was a lot like bartering; a way of life in Dol Amroth enjoyed by any true citizen.
The early evening mist drifted through the streets when the meeting finally ended. Her light wool dress was no shield against its chill. Shivering Lothiriel hunched over hurrying through the streets. Experienced feet leading her blindly up the rocky bluff to the palace.
Reaching the cobbled path Lothiriel paused and looked up. Towering into the sky the palace of Dol Amroth stood like a lightning strike in the gathering darkness. High columns and arches unlike those of the White Tower of Gondor. Plants clung to its surface glowing eerily in its reflected light.
Fierce pride grew inside Lothiriel as it always did when she stopped and took stock. Her ancestors had created this, seen the potential in a small inlet of the Belfalas Sea and built one of the most beautiful cities in Gondor.
Surfacing from her revive Lothiriel touched her speeding heart smiling at her own silliness.
Father would be delighted to know the hours he preached the virtues of Dol Amroth had not fallen on completely deaf ears, only taken time to flower, she thought ruefully. During her childhood Lothiriel had dreamed of escaping to the sea.
The familiar sound of trotting horses filled the air. Jumping off the path to avoid being trampled Lothiriel watched returning swan knight pass by. Returning their nods of respect with a low curtsy.
She had not seen or heard them by avoiding the main road to the palace, in favour of a stepper but quicker way up. Even in the growing darkness she could see weariness hung heavily on the lines of both the men and horses.
Where had they been to be so?
"Halt!" Lothiriel cried surprising everyone including herself. The party stopped immediately all turning to stare at her even the horses. From the front the captain broke off and rode back to loom over her.
"Yes my Princess?" recognising Dorlas, a former squire of her father's who had accompanied him to Theoden King's funeral, Lothiriel became incoherent.
"He..you..weeks!"
Dismounting Dorlas gave her a wan smile while patting his horse's sweaty neck.
"Rohan is a fine country Princess and its King a gracious host, but we longed for home." With his bear like strength Dorlas lifted her up into the horse's saddle easily, handing her the reigns. "I know he missed you greatly."
Whispering her gratitude Lothirel kicked Dorlas's horse's flank urging the beast to move quickly.
Her father was home.
It was a wonderful thought like bubble wine, it made her dizzy and so blissfully happy. Uncaring of dignified behaviour Lothiriel galloped into the courtyard, becoming tangled in her skirt in the hurry to dismount.
They could not have been back long sentinel knights; the prince's personal guardsmen still crowded the courtyard stables not yet given the dirtier jobs to their squires. Trying not to breathe too deeply Lothiriel wandered through the men, stopping to talk to the ones she recognised and smiling at the ones she did not. Until at last she reached the largest stable and her father's horse, Blacktail, neighed in welcome.
Tears slid down Lothiriel's cheeks, biting her bottom lip she gently stroked its nose.
A parting gift from Princess Isha, Lothiriel's mother the day she left to be with her people. The Jag-Desh was one of the strongest trading tribes of the sea until they had been wiped out in a Corsair raid only months after her mother had rejoined them.
Lothiriel looked down at the ring of Mithrellas, once it belonging to the great elfin mother of the Prince's line. A silver swan, its wings outspread gleamed on her left index finger. Another one of her mother's gifts the signet ring of the Princess of Dol Amroth. It had been a bitter trade, a city for a mother.
"Daughter." Softly her father's voice rumbled her name; tears sliding down already damp cheeks Lothiriel threw herself into his arms.
Laughing, Imrahil lifted her off her feet and spun her around as though she was still a child. Lothiriel tightened her hold, happy to be breathing in his familiar scent over powering as it was.
Suddenly she was snatched away and passed from one pair of strong arms to another as though she was a toy to be tossed about. Giggling Lothiriel nastily grasped Erchirion's ear.
"Enough! A fine way to greet your beloved sister." Throwing her to Elphir, Erchirion rubbed his ear and threw straw in their direction. Hooking her fingers between her older brother's neck and armour, Lothiriel shook her head blue eyes beseeching him.
"I always loved you the most." Elphir's grave face softened; sensing weakness Lothiriel pounced. "I worried so, Sauron is gone but his beasts still prowl the lands. It would be so easy-" Sniffing she patted his bearded face. Gently Elphir lowered her feet to the straw laden floor. Overcome by her own ruse Lothiriel covered her eyes, shoulders shaking with silent tears. Gathering her to his side Imrahil looked sternly at his sons.
"Cook has sent word that supper will be laid soon we may eat if we wish." Imitating the palace cook's superior attitude perfectly, Imrahil led his family to the tower used only by the prince's family.
There was an unnatural silence as they went. Entering their shared solar, Elphir and Erchirion went to their preferred seats and Imrahil guided Lothiriel to a pile of cushions by the blazing fire.
Trying to regain her composure Lothiriel missed the significant glances the men exchanged.
"Dadda!" A blur of blue cloth darted through the door clawing his way up Elphir's leg. Laughing with delight Elphir gathered his son close as his wife Narewien hovered uncertainly, her eyes bright. Rising his head from his son's neck Elphir held out his hand, Narewien took it gratefully curling her body around his on the chair like a cat.
Near tears again Lothiriel watched the reunion. Imrahil and Narewien's uncle, had arranged Elphir and Narewien's union. By nature a shy woman, marriage with Lothiriel's most reserved brother had not been the best match but they were trying.
There was no mistaking they adored their son. Alphros had inherited the colouring and stature of a descendant of Galador; already he was tall for his age, dark hair a mass of curls, pale eyes holding a little elfin starlight.
Elphir had confided that he hoped his daughter would look like her mother. It gave Lothiriel hope, one day they would find love. But as was their custom bets were taken, glasses raised, teasing ensued and the siblings agreed lighter hair would make a nice change.
"Grub's up!" Amrothos bellowed from the adjoining dinning room.
Taking Imrahil's arm Lothiriel tried to smooth down her dress. Regretting it was the same plain navy wool she had worn to check docks and attend the guild assembly. If only she had known her father would be home tonight! There was a newly made gown she had been saving for the occasion.
Falling into their places behind Imrahil and herself, Elphir and Narewien with Alphros between them and Erchirion trailing. They entered the dining room with more dignity than they were summoned to it.
Amrothos was being berated on proper manner befitting a lord by the serving maid, yet another cousin.
Sometimes it seemed Dol Amroth's native people were all related, which gave the idea they could speak to the Prince's family as they wished. It was no wonder the city was becoming full of settlers they are the only people to give us any respect, Lothiriel thought wearily.
Her father pulled out her chair at the foot of the table, seating herself she smiled at him adoringly. Holding the warmth his gentle pat on the shoulder generated close to her heart.
He was home, safe and whole.
Looking along the table at her family Lothiriel's smile wobbled.
They all were.
The only person missing was Amrothos's wife Tarnis, who had gone to visit her family in Anfalas.
Ducking her head to hide teary eyes she stared at the empty plate.
It was a miracle. Every wish and bargain she had made each night since the awful war began fulfilled.
Soon food arrived, steamed fish and potatoes. Her father was not a good traveller, for a few days after a journey, his body demanded plain food. Thankfully desert would be served whether Imrahil could eat it or not!
Erchirion did not eat being much more interested in his wine. Puzzled Lothiriel watched him carefully. While he was not nearly as playful as Amrothos, Erchirion possessed a dry wit and a love for story telling. Normally, upon returning home, he told great tales of adventure and sung wonderful songs.
Occasionally he would glare at Imrahil, leaving Lothiriel to ponder if they had fought. It would not be unusual they both had strong views on military matters and those views often clashed, but it felt, to her, something more than that.
At last Lothiriel could stand it no more. "Erchirion wont you eat?" Deliberately she took a large bite. "Cook has out done himself. This is fine fish."
"No." He said shortly.
"Would you prefer something else?" Narewien asked motioning to the wine server to take the message down to the kitchen.
"No!" Slamming down his glass Erchirion noisily pushed back his chair. "I am not hungry, I wish only for wine I am sorry if that troubles you sisters." Not sounding sorry only angry he got his feet.
"Sit down child." Imrahil ordered pointing at Erchirion's chair with his fork.
"I shall not."
"Erchirion you're making it worse." Elphir said softly.
"Worse? What could be worse?" Erchirion demanded.
Lothiriel, Amrothos and Narewien exchanged confused looks. Alphros was busy throwing food at his feeder unconcerned of the tension in the room.
"Father what is wrong?" Amrothos pleaded.
"Wrong?" snapped Erchirion, "I'll tell you," ignoring Imrahil and Elphir's demands for silence Erchirion glared at Lothiriel, "Father's not satisfied with one unhappy arranged marriage, he's bartered you off to the King of Rohan!"
My first LOTR fic and only 2nd romance fic so please review, let me know what you think!