Tolkien wrote (in letter number 131): "The cycles (of the body of legend to be created – he's referring to Middle Earth and its tales) should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and other hands, wielding paint and music and drama."

Shameless plug: There's a new short story up that ties in loosely with "Lothíriel". It was written for the HASA-WorldWarI-poem's challenge. Lady Lanet has called it "morbid". Elven Script and Mija like it (thanks!). Go and have a look and tell me what you think, please!

69. A New Family

When I woke in the morning of the 30th of September, the sea was hidden by soft white mists. Summer was gone, now it was time for cooler days of softer colors.

I slipped out from my warm covers and padded across the smooth wooden floor to the large window with the cushioned window seat. I opened the window and, kneeling down on the red cushions, propped my elbows on the window sill to have a look outside.

Somewhere down below the waves lapped softly against the rocks of the cliffs on which the great castle of Dol Amroth has been built many centuries ago. The air was mild and humid, it tasted cool and salty. For a while I watched the drifting swirls of mist, feeling utterly peaceful inside. From somewhere below I heard the sounds of creaking wood and the muffled voices of men. Probably some fishermen.

Finally I drew back and closed the window again. Almost at the same time a light knock sounded at the door and a maid-servant entered, carrying a white porcelain ewer with a wisp of steam curling above it. "Thank you," I told the girl and smiled at her, when she carefully placed the ewer next to the washing bowl. The girl bobbed a polite curtsy, and then disappeared as quickly as she had come.

A bell tolled somewhere. Eight o'clock already. For once I had slept late. Time to get ready. This morning my adoption would be registered.

I washed with the hot water, pure luxury after weeks on the road. And real soap, lavender, too, I love the smell, and really does keep lice and things off.

I dressed quickly, in somber colors, thanking the Lady Darla in my mind. The clothes fit perfectly, made me look much better than I really do, and they were comfortable.

With the Prince in residence, breakfast was taken in the dining room. The dining room was a rectangular room facing the sea. The architecture of the room was purist. There were no columns carved with fancy designs, no painted ceiling. The sea side wall sported the wealth of this room, in a row of Romanesque windows sat with clear panes of thick glass. On the opposite wall a large tapestry was hung that showed a fleet of swan shaped sailing ships floating before a rising sun. There was also a fire place stocked with thick logs, but for the time being it was still comfortably warm without a fire in the morning.

When I entered the room, Prince Imrahil was already seated at the head of a large mahogany table. To his left sat the Lady Míriël, to his right was his squire, Gawin. Next to Gawin sat Númendil and Mel. They turned their heads to me and smiled, and I felt once again this silly surge of happiness at the knowledge that I really belonged.

I went to Imrahil and he turned his cheek so that I could kiss him good morning. "Morning, Ada," I said, and my voice was filled with a smile. I had spent a lot of time with Imrahil on the journey from Edoras to Dol Amroth. The result was that I did not stumble about the form of address with him any more. Arwen had seen to that. Elves are sneaky; I think I have mentioned that before. Imrahil smiled at me, too. "Sleepy head."

I shrugged, and walked the long way round the table to Míri, so that I could tousle Mel's hair in the passing. He stuck out his tongue to me. I winked at him.

I slid down on the chair next to Míri, giving her a good morning-peck on the cheek, too.

"Did you sleep well?" Míri asked. "I was wondering if you would perhaps like to have another room. The guest room is really small and sometimes the sea is so loud you can barely sleep in fall and winter, when the storms blow from the West."

I nodded gratefully at Enho who poured me some tírithel as soon as I had settled down in my chair. "No, Míri, please, let me stay in that room. I love it. I love the window across the sea. I could spend hours in that window seat, just dreaming away into the West."

Imrahil smiled at that. "Hear, hear, Lothíriel the poet."

I grinned at the Prince, who was incidentally a well known poet himself. "I don't really think so, Ada. But the view of the western horizon touches the soul, somehow."

Imrahil nodded, his long silvery-blond hair falling across his face. Absent minded he pushed the long silky tresses behind his shoulder. I felt Míri sigh a little next to me. I had the feeling that she had enjoyed feeling this wealth of long silky hair across her body in a real bed for once. But that was probably not a proper thought for an adopted daughter to have.

"Yes," Imrahil said thoughtfully. "The view of the western light wakes a deep yearning in our souls. And here in Dol Amroth you are as far west as you can get in Arda and not be on an island. We are blessed to have this view. Although the place to pray to Eru is, of course, as is fitting the Meneltarma, the peak of the mountain, I have always felt that I had to reach out for the western horizon in thought when I asked for the blessing of the Valar."

For a while everyone was silent, eating porridge, drinking tírithel, letting the thoughts drift.

"How will this adoption business work? You said it would be done today?" I asked finally.

Míri shook her head at my manner of speech, but she answered nevertheless. "It is really simple. We have had the scribe draw up a document and the smith has fashioned a seal for you. The wording of the document will be read out. You sign the document, first Imrahil, and then you. Then you put your seals beneath your signature. That's it. Really simple, compared to working out your marriage contract."

"My…what?" I gaped at her.

Míri raised a dark eyebrow at me and smiled a little mockingly at me. "I thought you said that you have studied law? Surely even where you were born people set up marriage contracts?"

My heart was suddenly thumping painfully in my chest, and in my mind I looked into a pair of laughing dark eyes. "No, I mean yes," I said breathlessly. "Yes, of course, we have marriage contracts. I just…" I trailed off helplessly, while Mel giggled. Imrahil shook his head at his wife. "You should not tease her so. I remember how nervous I was when my father talked about the arrangement of our wedding, hervess-nîn."

"Thank you, Ada," I said, but I smiled at Míri. She in turn squeezed my hand briefly.

"Now, I have some matters to see to, but I think this afternoon at three o'clock we could meet in my study to complete the document mentioned."

I nodded. "Of course."

Imrahil rose from his chair, Gawin followed suit.

"It's been many months now since Imrahil could really look after things here at Dol Amroth. I have managed quite well on my own," Míri explained. "But there are things that I really prefer my husband to deal with." She shuddered. I decided not to ask for details with the children present.

As if on cue, Míri turned to the children. "You two. I have something important to tell you. We have been awarded a high honor. The sons of Lord Elrond Peredhel will come to stay with us for the winter. They will teach you and your sister. Weapons training, as well as studies in the lore of Gondor, writing and reading in Westron and the elvish languages. Just so you are prepared. They will arrive at the end of October, when the King and Queen will come to Dol Amroth on the royal progress. You should therefore enjoy your sweet freedom while it lasts," she told them with a twinkling to her eyes. Númendil's eyes lit up with expectant happiness, Mel looked crestfallen. Both looked at me. "I bet it's only because Lothy gets to marry the King of Rohan." Mel said, indicating that he thought it completely unfair to be cooped up with his brother to study his letters with not one, but two loremasters only because I had to marry a king.

Míri shook her head at her youngest child and gave the little boy a stern look. "No, young master Meluir, that is not the case. You are both old enough for serious study. The sons of Elrond have an errand to complete here. We are very fortunate that they have agreed to stay a little longer to act as your tutors. I expect all of you to do your very best."

The boys nodded timidly. Míri turned to me, her gaze no less stern than when she had looked at the boys. I felt my cheeks grow hot. "You know that I will do everything I can."

My life depends on it. Hell, Eomer's life depends on it.

Talk about incentives for hard work…

The morning I spent with the boys. We went to the stables, because I had to check on Mimi.

The Meara was well cared for. And after almost a month of traveling even Mithril seemed to enjoy a quiet day in the stable. But the groom assured me that she would be taken out to the paddock with the other mares tomorrow.

"Where is that paddock?" I asked, because in the small town of Dol Amroth there was surely no room for such a thing.

The old, grizzled man who was the horse-man around here grinned toothlessly at me. "Just outside the walls, it's a good paddock, level, some trees, and no rocks. Well fenced, too. One for the mares and the geldings, one for the stallions."

"We'll show it to you tomorrow," Númendil said importantly.

"Do that, young master, do that," the groom said wheezing a little. Then he turned to me. "But take a guard with you, my lady. The corsairs have been at us four times during the summer. And the raiding season is not yet over."

"Really?" I stared at the old man, feeling shocked and not a little frightened. "I thought that with the enemy destroyed there'd be a little peace, before…"

"That's what the corsairs thought we would think, too." The groom grumbled. "Luckily Anmir thought the same way I do. I always think the worst. It turned out we were the better for us prophets of doom. And a doom for the corsairs and their cheekiness." The groom cackled evilly. "But still, my lady. Don't venture out of the shelter of the town's defenses without a guard. Better safe than sorry. My lady."

I nodded. Somehow I had an idea what the things entailed that Míri did not care to deal with. Executing imprisoned corsairs, for example. I decided that there were maybe some things that I did not want to know about.

We turned back to the castle, walking slowly through the clean, narrow streets of the town of Dol Amroth. Dol Amroth is not a large town, because of the narrow space of the promontory of the Cobas peninsula where it is situated. But the houses are fairly tall and very well built. The stone used for the houses is the grey stone from the quarries of the Dor-en-Ernil, the southern slopes of the hills of Tarnost. It makes for an interesting contrast to the reddish stone of the battlements and the castle, which is the stone of the cliffs around here. The houses are well kept, and delicately carved. There is no marble here, although perhaps there was, in earlier, more peaceful times. There used to be a larger town of Dol Amroth at the center of the peninsula once. But it was destroyed in some war or other. Perhaps during the Last Alliance. Since then Dol Amroth consists of the small town on the promontory, the castle behind it, perched precariously above the sea, and the harbor and the fishing village down at the foot of the cliffs.

Come to think of it, at the moment all of Gondor boasted one city: Minas Tirith. And all of Gondor's splendor was centered there. Osgiliath and Pelargir the two other cities that had made it to the end of the third age, were in ruins. Osgiliath was almost completely annihilated and what had been told about the situation at Pelargir had not sounded really encouraging. Pinnath Galen, Tarnost, Cair Andros, Firien, Dol Amroth, Edhellond, Anfalas and Linhir were not cities, but towns. And apart from that there were only villages.

It would take centuries to wake splendor in all of Gondor.

A madman (or should I say monster? I am not sure if Sauron ever was anything like a man) full of complexes and fixated on ruling the world is not exactly beneficial to a country's economical and political situation.

I would be sure to take a guard when I left the safety of Dol Amroth. I did not want to end up at the mercy of some pirates. I also did not want to incur Eomer's – or worse, Eowyn's wrath.

Lunch was eaten more or less in passing. We simply went down to the kitchen and had the cook ladle some delicious hot stew into our bowls and ate it at the large, square kitchen table. The main meal of the days would be served in the great hall, with the dignitaries of Dol Amroth town and village and castle in attendance.

Míriël told me to wear a dress for the occasion. I opened my mouth to argue, and then closed it again at her icy look. When in Rome do as the Romans do. My, am I glad that I fell in love with a Rohirrim, where women's couture is viewed more in terms of "can you ride while wearing that" than anything else. Not that I don't like wearing dresses now and then – I am not Eowyn. But I feel so damn self-conscious in those lavish gowns of Gondorian and Rohirric nobility. As if I was dressing up for a costume party. Oh, well. I guess I will get used to it. In twenty years I won't give it any thought at all, probably.

At three o'clock the family of the Prince of Dol Amroth, his squire, Gawin, his captain, Anmir, his herald, Falanyon, his clerk, Bowman, his scribe, Aleth, and the mayor of Dol Amroth, Samno, the mayor of the fishing village, Gwaeren, were assembled in the great hall.

Why so many men?

Simple. Gondor has chauvinistic laws. Seven witnesses were necessary to make the adoption legal. Seven signatures. By seven free men of Gondor. Men, not women.

But I was allowed to sign myself. It could be worse. There were times on earth, where a signature by a woman was not legally binding. In Gondor it is. If there are no sons, it is the daughter who inherits. If the husband dies and there are no sons, it is the wife who gets it all.

Bowman had drawn up a beautiful document for the adoption. Have you ever seen a medieval document, for example a marriage contract, or a peace treaty?

They are pieces of art. Not just documents. And this one was truly magnificent. The calligraphy was awesome. Every rune looked like a miniature picture. The capitals at the beginning of each sentence were set with gold and blue and every letter adorned with flourishes.

Falanyon read the document out to us. It was really pretty simple and straightforward. It stated that the Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil, and his wife, the Lady Míriël, adopted the Lady Lothíriel, daughter of the Lord and Lady Eledhel of Nuremberg, to be their daughter with all rights and duties of this position according to the laws and customs of Gondor.

At the end there was the ritual call upon the Valar and the One to confirm and uphold this act, and the date, the 30th of September, Yavannië.

Then there was room for our signatures and the seals, and the signatures of the witnesses.

When Falanyon had finished reading, the parchment was smoothed down on the table.

A pot of black ink was opened and Imrahil dipped a great white plume of a quill into the ink. He carefully shook off any excess ink and then signed the document in smooth joined-up Sindarin tengwar. Then he offered the quill to me. "There should be enough ink for your signature in it," he told me reassuringly when I looked at the quill suspiciously.

I inhaled shakily and bent down to add my signature to the right-hand side of the document.

For a moment I thought about trying the runes Glorfindel had tried to teach me at Rivendell a year ago, but then I decided against it. I did not want to spoil the document with my inability to write tengwar. Therefore I wrote down my name as I am used to. I wrote my name in the down-to-earth, clear and simple writing style I had used for greeting cards and the like back on earth. "Lothíriel Elbenstern."

The simple signature looked strange next to the flowing, artistic handwriting of Imrahil.

But it was clear and neat. It would endure over the centuries in the archive of Dol Amroth.

I smiled at the thought of what a descendant of Prince Imrahil would one day make of this unusual signature, when he happened upon it in the archive.

Then one after the other the seven witnesses took up the quill and wrote down their names at the bottom of the parchment more or less laboriously. When they were finished, the seal wax was melted. Blue for the Prince. He dripped the wax expertly below his signature, and pressed his seal ring carefully into the hot wax. When he removed it, the design of swan and ship was easily visible in the blue wax. For me they had red wax. Imrahil dribbled the red wax below my signature, and then handed me a small lead seal. Again I had to draw a deep breath. I think my hand was shaking a little bit, when I pressed the seal into the wax. As I waited for the wax to take on the seal, I realized that I did not even know what picture they had chosen for my seal. Finally Imrahil nodded at me and I carefully removed the seal.

When I looked at the picture in the red wax, I sighed with pleasure and surprise. The picture was a delicate blossom, with the tengwar runes for L.E. at the bottom of the flower's stem.

"You will get a new one in a few days," Imrahil remarked as he observed how I stared at my seal. "I thought perhaps we would use the Dol Amroth ship and add your blossom instead of the swan."

"That would be wonderful, Ada." I said.

When I looked up, and looked into his smiling light grey eyes and Míri's darker once, and both of them full of warmth and affection, I thought my heart would melt.

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you."

What else was there to say? For a show of such friendship and magnanimity (not to mention political acumen) there is no praise high enough.

But they both smiled at me and answered in kind. "Thank you," they said. "Meliël iëll-mîn, our beloved daughter."

"Is she now our sister?" Mel piped up from the corner of the room. He had observed the proceedings with round eyes and bated breath.

Imrahil nodded. "Yes, she is. Come here and give your sister a kiss."

He did not need to say that twice.

I was at once assaulted by Númendil and Mel. Mel simply jumped me, so that I had to hoist him up into my arms. He put his arms around my neck and gave me two great smacking kisses on the cheeks and one very wet kiss on the mouth. "Meliël muínthel-nîn, my beloved sister," he proclaimed, not to be outdone in dignity by his parents.

I kissed him right back, with tears in my eyes. "Little brother, " I said. "Niben muíndor-nîn." That far my knowledge of Sindarin did stretch by this time.

"Get down," Númendil said impatiently. "I want to welcome our sister, too."

"If you insist…" Mel drawled, but allowed me to let him slide down to the ground.

Númendil embraced me in the manner of an adult, with solemn kisses on either cheek. But his eyes were bright with happiness as he repeated his brother's words. "It's good to have a sister. Welcome, meliël muínthel-nîn."

"It's even better to have a brother like you," I whispered. "Muíndor-nîn."

Then Enho entered the room with a silver tray with many crystal goblets and a jug of red wine. Imrahil toasted me as his daughter. Everyone applauded and drank to me.

I raised my glass to my family, my wonderful, new family and offered a toast of my own. "To my wonderful family. An meleg noss-nîn."

I beamed at my family as the toast was echoed by everyone in the room.

My family!

Proud, noble, kind and cunning, my new Ada, beautiful, loving, smart and witty my Míri, serious and intelligent the heir of Dol Amroth, little Númendil, and cute and funny sweet little Mel.

My family. Not by blood, but by choice and love.

I will never understand how I got so lucky.

A/N: Wheeehehe! I just got two specialist's books about the middle ages for my studies, but I can see already that they will improve this story… one book is about every day life in the middle ages and one is about the position of the queen in the middle ages. Yippee!

Aelyaniara: To quote Tolkien, I'm afraid I am as susceptible to flattery as any dragon…

;-) Thank you for your praise, I hope you like this chapter!

Soccer-Bitch: Sorry, you'll have to… ;-)

CrecyIt's good to have you back. I was already worried. I hope all is well with you.

TPfann: It's really hard work to be so quick with the updates. Thank you for your compliment!

RipperAngel: Was soll ich sagen… nicht einmal neun Jahre an einem bayerischen Gymnasium haben mir meine Freude an Gedichten ausgetrieben…