Little was seen of Lothíriel the following morning, and it was midday before Adlóriel and Falmaien sought her out. Prince Imrahil kept two council halls, one within doors and one without, and it was in the latter that they found her, sitting quietly, lost in thought. Her grief was still fresh upon her face, but there was an acceptance in her eyes that relieved the two women greatly.
"Lothíriel," said Adlóriel timidly, stepping forward. The princess looked up in surprise at the sound of her name. "Will you not come in for dinner?" Adlóriel continued. "You have not eaten all morning."
"I am not hungry," Lothíriel replied.
"You must eat," Adlóriel urged, taking a seat beside her and grasping her hand comfortingly. "We are called to Gondor upon the morrow. You need your strength."
At this, Lothíriel resigned. "Very well," she said, "But please, not this moment. I will join you this evening for supper."
When Adlóriel and Falmaien departed, Lothíriel stood and walked slowly around the courtyard, and a memory came upon her, a memory of a child and a soldier. She gave a small, sad smile, but there was none there to see.
Year 3008 of the Third Age
For a small girl growing up in a court of only adults, life could be very frustrating, especially for one like Lothíriel, who desperately wanted to know everything her father was doing. For six days now, all her elders had been able to talk about was the imminent arrival of some important people from another country across the mountains. Lothíriel gathered that these people had come a very long way to visit, but nobody would tell her anything! Even Amrothos was no help. Since he'd turned fourteen, her youngest brother fancied himself too manly to play with Lothíriel or to speak with her for very long.
Fortunately, she had long ago discovered that being small sometimes had its advantages. There was a dusty, narrow window in a little-used storage room that overlooked her father's council courtyard. Very soon, even Lothíriel would be too large to fit through it, but today she hiked her skirts around her knees and slipped deftly out onto the branches of the tree that grew tall outside, obscuring the window from view. She'd begun eavesdropping on council sessions this way from the time she was seven years old and had never been discovered. When she learned that her father was even now escorting their guests here, Lothíriel had wasted no time in hastening to her hiding place. She arrived with just enough time to settle herself in her favorite nook between two branches.
When the men filed into view from the far entrance to the courtyard, it was not difficult to distinguish which were the visitors, even if Lothíriel hadn't already known the names and faces of all her father's advisors. All three strangers had hair the color of wheat in late autumn, and Lothíriel stared down at the tops of their heads with interest, for they had been seated directly below her position. Her own countrymen were overwhelmingly dark-haired, and it was rare to see even one person of fair coloring, let alone three together.
The men talked for a significant period of time, and Lothíriel had to strain to hear the conversation. It was difficult, for the men spoke in low, serious voices, and she was quite some distance above them. The visitors brought grave tidings about the world at large, which she did not altogether understand, but she did learn that the visitors were from a country called Rohan, a place she'd learned about in her studies, and that they had come quite far, and that it had been many years since Rohan and Dol Amroth had been in direct communication. All these things Lothíriel took note of with interest and stored them in her memory. She was extremely fond of learning about other places and people, how they dealt with each other, how they were different from the things she knew. This was chiefly the reason she'd begun spying on her father in the first place.
At length, they spoke of trade and more commonplace matters, and by the time they adjourned—Imrahil having extended a warm invitation to dinner—Lothíriel was relieved. Her legs, back, and bottom were by now quite weary of her uncomfortable perch on the branches. She remained still until the last of the men had departed and then stood up with relief, still clinging to branches. She made her way as speedily as possible back towards the window, but had only made it about halfway when she froze at the sound of someone returning.
"Tell Lord Imrahil I shall attend him momentarily. I have forgotten something within," called the strong male voice. Through the screen of leaves, Lothíriel could see one of the Rohirrim returning, and could only hope he wouldn't notice her. In her current position, she was far more visible than she'd been before.
To her horror, however, he did not stop to look for something misplaced or forgotten, as he'd said, but came straight to her tree and looked up into the branches, fixing her with an amused expression. "Dol Amroth is a strange country indeed where birds take on the appearance of small lasses," he said. His hands were on his hips and his eyes were laughing.
Lothíriel's own eyes widened in shock and dismay. She could only stare back at him, frozen and fearful. He seemed to sense her anxiousness. "Can you climb down?" he asked kindly.
She gave a mute nod. Red-faced, she began her descent, though it took some managing in her long skirt. Climbing down the tree was a different matter than climbing across it. When she arrived at the bottommost branches, the stranger reached up with his arms and helpfully lowered her the rest of the way to the ground. "How did you get up there?" he asked curiously, gauging the distance between the ground and the branches with his eyes, then taking note of her small figure.
"Through the window, my Lord," she said in a small voice. This man had been the leader of the Rohirrim. He was a prince.
Frowning, the prince stepped closer to the trunk of the tree and squinted up through the branches. "Ah," he said knowingly a moment later. "So I see." He turned back to her. "My name is Théodred. And what is yours, lass?"
"Lothíriel, my Lord. Prince Imrahil is my father."
"And why were you spying on us?"
She made a sulking face, stuck out her chin, and folded her arms stubbornly. "Because no one will tell me things," she said. At this, the prince began laughing loudly, and Lothíriel frowned further. She did not find the matter very funny.
"How did you know where I was?" she finally worked up the courage to ask, partly to interrupt his amusement at her expense.
"I saw you, but you did not notice."
"Are you going to tell my father?"
Théodred cocked his head and studied her thoughtfully. "I do not think you meant any harm," he said at last. "However, I would ask you not to do such a thing again, at least not while I am here, for then I shall be honor-bound to tell him."
Lothíriel found this stipulation bothersome, but she was hardly in any position to bargain. "Agreed," she said, nodding slowly.
"How old are you, child?"
"Nine. How old are you?"
"Much older than that."
"I think you must be as old as my brother Elphir," she said knowingly.
"And how old is that?"
"Elphir is twenty-one years of age."
He laughed. "Nay, I am older still. I have lived as long as your brother and again as long as you."
Lothíriel frowned a little, focusing upon the riddle in his words until she understood his meaning. "You are thirty?" she asked hesitatingly after a brief moment.
"I am."
She gave a serious nod. "You are old, my Lord."
He laughed again. "Well, Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil, your secret is safe with me. But I must leave you now, for your father has invited me to dinner and I am very hungry."
"I will probably be at the dinner as well, my Lord."
"Well, when we are introduced I shall be pleased to meet you," he said.
At this, Lothíriel could not help but smile. "Very well, my Lord."
"If you wait here for a few moments, I shall make sure the corridor beyond is clear, so that you do not have to depart by the tree when you leave," he added conspiratorially.
She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle and nodded. "Thank you, my Lord," she said, and watched him depart.
Lothíriel's eyes lingered in memory for a few moments. She had never told another of that day, and now the secret was hers alone once more. Two silent tears escaped her eyes. She wiped them away hastily and gave a small shake in an effort to dispel her stupor. "Perhaps I will go to dinner," she said softly to herself.
The relief of her sisters and Erchirion was great upon her arrival. Lothíriel took her place at the right hand of her brother, and said little, but picked at her food and listened as Erchirion told them more news of the war and the celebration forthcoming.
"Lord Elessar camps upon the field of Cormallen, and approaches the city at his leisure," he said. "He hastens not, for there are many with him who are weary from hard toil and long, ceaseless battle. Our father and our countrymen attend him, as well as the Riders of Rohan and their King."
Lothíriel was surprised at this news. When last she had spoken with Théodred, his father had been very ill and in no condition to fight, but that had been almost three years ago. "King Théoden rides with him?" she asked.
Erchirion shook his head. "Nay," he said sadly, "King Théoden fell at the Battle of Pelennor. Many now mourn him, for his deeds there were valiant and worthy of great song. The kingship has passed to his nephew, Éomer, son of Éomund."
The eyes of Lothíriel's sisters were attentively upon her as they spoke of these matters concerning Rohan. She nodded gravely. "Théodred spoke often of his cousins," she said. "He loved them as a brother and a sister."
"Éomer has gained the highest respect and friendship of both Lord Elessar and our father," Erchirion sad. "His part in the battle, too, was very great, as was that of his sister, the Lady Éowyn."
"A lady partook in the battle?" Falmaien asked in surprise, and leaned forward, her face full of interest.
"Yea, with courage greater than that of threescore men."
Erchirion spoke a while longer on sundry matters, before once again speaking of the Lord Elessar. "When all are gathered and renewed," he said, "the heir of Elendil will come to city to claim his kingship, and he bids as many come as are willing, from all the lands of Middle Earth.
"And we depart tomorrow?" Lothíriel asked. Having cloistered herself away all morning, she was unaware of what preparations had already been made.
"At first light," Adlóriel confirmed. Her eyes focused on something only she could see, and her face became radiant. "I cannot wait to see Elphir again."
"Will the children be accompanying us?"
"Yes, and many of our people as well. Belfarion has agreed to supervise the city in our absence."
"He declares he is too old for journeys," Falmaien remarked with a small smile, "but I believe he simply does not care for them."
"Peculiar, do not you agree, for one who has known success as a soldier?" noted Adlóriel, gazing across the table at the old captain with a shrew smile. There was a chorus of laughter, and even Lothíriel smiled. The general fondness for Belfarion was very great.
Despite her sorrow, Lothíriel couldn't help but be affected by the happiness and anticipation of those around her. As the day progressed, she found herself sharing it. She was eager to be reunited with her father, Elphir, and Amrothos. Besides, unlike Belfarion, she was very fond of traveling. and the journey would perhaps provide her with adequate distraction from her grief.
In her heart, though, she knew that it would not.
Replies:
smor- My first reviewer! Huzzah! Being the astute reader that you are, you probably noted that Lothíriel only spoke of Éomer by hearsay in this chapter, so they have not actually met.
Eokat- Thank you! I hope you enjoy the ride. :-)
Lackwit- I am honored that my voices meet your satisfaction. Thanks for your review, and I hope you stick around!
Spacepirate- The particular passage you singled out was born of my belief that a great many people were cognizant of the moment of the ring's destruction, all through Middle Earth, just as Faramir and Éowyn were on the wall of the city. And yes, your opinion of the style made sense to me, and I'm glad to hear it. I only hope I can maintain a consistency throughout. Depending on my mood, I can get too flowery with the language, or too sloppy.
Silawen- Thank you for pointing me towards Countries United! I spent the morning exploring some of the stories there. I will certainly seek to archive, but I believe I will wait until the story is complete first, in case there's anything major I decide to adjust in retrospect.
Shallindra- You know, at this point I have trouble remembering how I first thought of Théodred and Lothíriel myself. :-P
Tracey- I am flattered and delighted to be neither silly nor trivial. Seriously, your review made me feel very good. Thank you. :-)
Drylith- I guess those elves are just too dazzling, aren't they? LOL But I think Éomer is slowly garnering the attention he deserves, and not only from me.
sg1scribe- I am taking this down a valley of angst… whoa, sorry. Shan't reveal too much. (besides, I'm going to frighten you away. Don't worry, it is actually a plot, with angst as an automatic side effect). Thank you for your review.
lady scribe of avandell- Oh dear goodness, you are making me blush. I try to respect Tolkien's style as far as my own will allow. What does "sere mi eru" mean? I have not made any intense study of Elvish. Heck, I have not even made any casual study of Elvish. I assume that's what you were writing in, anyway. LOL
Mystikal- Unfortunately, the direction I have already intended for this story necessitates a discussion between Lothíriel and Éomer before they marry, so your idea must be passed by, but that does not mean I do not appreciate it! I like to incorporate reader ideas when I can, if I like them enough and they are compatible with my own. The betrothal between Théodred and Lothíriel was very unique, as you shall see. I hope it is satisfactory.
Elijahcat- I confess, I have noticed the trend to portray Lothíriel as a firebrand, which is odd, because I have always thought the opposite. But I would be false as an authoress if I did not confess that my desire to write about Éomer was in a small part due to his hotness. There. Now I fear I shall frighten you away. LOL
Angel of the Night Watchers- Thank you for your lovely compliments. I enjoy Janette Oke's writing in general, although sometimes my enjoyment is more dependent upon the particular story itself.
A/N: First of all, thanks for the overwhelming response! I am glad the Théodred twist came as a surprise to so many, because that was my hope. Speaking of Théodred, however, for those of you sitting there in shock and semi-revulsion at the age gap between him and Lothíriel… well, that's a rather funny story, and I blame everything on Peter Jackson. Curses upon him for his inappropriate age casting! Because of the actor chosen to play him in the film, I had no idea that Théodred was so much older than his cousins. When I found out, I thought at first I could make Lothíriel a bit older, but then learned that Tolkien has a canon age for her, as well! By this time, though, the plot bunny was too insistent to be ignored, so I thought about the problem from every angle, and I believe I've come up with a story that will not make Théodred appear a perverted cradle-robber. (Hint— any opinions about my success or failure will be extremely welcome as the story progresses) ;-)
Cheers!
Saché