The dark haired girl sat at the bottom of the narrow steps, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other absent-mindedly twirling her hair around a finger. The rain fell softly around her, soaking her clothes and hair, but the girl seemed not to mind, or even notice.
Luthiel Storm-Child, the Crown Princess of Gondor, threw back her head and stuck out her tongue, letting the raindrops splash into her mouth.
Whoever saw her and thought she must care very little about her appearance would have been right. Luthiel did not mind at all that she sat at the bottom of the stairs that led from the Courtyard of the White Tree to the lower encircling terrace. Nor did she seem to care anyone could look over and see her in such a manner, whether they were standing in the courtyard or approaching from the terrace. She knew there wouldn't be anyone on the terrace to begin with, and anyone who entered the courtyard above would have to strain a bit to see her, something people out in the rain would not bother to take the time to do if they were trying to escape inevitable drench. It was just a small terrace, one that stuck out at an odd point from the long platform of the White Tree's courtyard, and contained a small garden and balcony overhang that allowed one to look out onto the whole city.
Luthiel smiled as she caught the drops in her mouth. Sticking out her tongue to catch the rain or the snow was not something she had done since she was a very little child, but it felt so good, even at sixteen. She had never had time before to go sit outside, and now that her studies were done and her lessons canceled, she was having the first afternoon off in months. Well, the first legal afternoon off in months. It was an afternoon where she wouldn't be attending lessons or even opening one scroll, and for once mother and father wouldn't have a reason to scold her for it. She had every right to go enjoy herself, and despite the weather and her sister's warnings of getting soaked, she headed out to the stairs anyway. A little rain wasn't going to kill her, and if she got wet, it didn't mean she couldn't get dried off again.
Luthiel licked her lips, wet with the raindrops like the rest of her face. The rain reminded her of a song she used to sing in Ithilien, something she remembered hearing on the river crossing at Osgiliath from a ferry driver, and a song she had later asked her father if he knew. He had, and had taught her the song himself on one of their summers in the Ithilien House. She had liked the lyrics and the rolling rhythm when she had first heard it; it reminded her of stormy waters and the sounds they made. So, she opened her mouth again and began to sing in as loud and untamed a voice as she could manage:
"The water's black and deep they say
Watchman awaken from your post
The sky has turned to night today
And the rumbling's heard from the thunder- host!
Call out to the ships in harbor resting
"Tie up, ye lads, a storm's a-tow
Pray for your sailor-god's good blessing
The wind won't hold you long, I know!"
O watchman is the storm a-going
Will you bring your sailors home
How fast will your men be rowing
'Til they reach one shore alone?
Pray O watchman for your ships
When they make berth in ivory port
Pray that the sea may spare the good
And leave the wicked and thier sort!
Watchman is the storm a-breaking
Will your ships be home tonight?
O watchman help them back to port
O watchman please bring fire, bring light!
See watchman what good you've done
The widows will not have thier sorrow
Here lands the sailor and his son
Home safe will come the ships tomorrow!
Sleep watchman in your warm, dry bed
You will have rest tonight, tonight
Lay down your old and weary head
We thank you for your guiding l-iiiiiiiii-ght!"
The sound of clapping as she ended made her jump with surprise, and she turned to see Eothair standing at the top of the stairs, a wide grin on his face as he applauded.
"Very good, Luthiel! Now, if only you could sing as well as you could fight..." He joked, laughing heartily as he approached.
"Then you see there's a reason why I'm sitting here, so no one has to hear me, eh? Did you hear all of the song?"
"Only the last few lines."
"Good, you were lucky. The rest sounded just as awful." She smiled at him as she stood up. "You must be soaked, Eothair. I thought a steward's son had more sense than to stand out in the pouring rain."
"It's knowing that the king's daughter doesn't that brings me out here." He walked down the steps and took a seat beside where she stood. Luthiel, surprised, sat back down. "I didn't know your parents would allow you out here, even after...well..." His voice trailed off, but Luthiel nodded slowly.
"As long as I stay on the palace grounds, with guards in sight at all times." She said softly.
"Oh." Eothair's sandy blonde hair was looking frizzy today, perhaps from the humidity, but he had pulled his hood up so that the rain did not soak his head. He gathered the furry cloak around him, covering his tunic and pants, and stared out at the balcony.
"It's a nice view, isn't it?" She said softly, looking from his face to the city below. "It makes the city feel so huge."
"Just makes me feel a lot smaller." He murmured.
"Well, anything will if you say it that way." Luthiel replied tartly, "I think it makes you feel like you're flying." At this, she stood up and raced to the balcony, where she spread out her arms and leaned as low as she could over the rail. "Like this!" She cried happily, and called back to Eothair. "See? I'm an eagle!"
Eothair shook his head with a smile. "You never learn, do you?"
"Of course not!" She yelled happily, so loud any person passing on the terrace below them could hear. "I'm a wet eagle, granted, but I'm an eagle all the same."
"You look more like some sort of crazy girl to me, splashing mindlessly in the rain and catching her death in the cold." He replied from the cover of his hood, making his features dark, so that all Luthiel could see was a small smile on his face.
"It's not cold." She protested, and left the balcony to sit beside him once more. "And even if it were, you couldn't catch a cold from the cold. Or the wet. I come out in the rain all the time, and I never get sick, do I?"
"I suppose not." He laughed. "But it's still raining all the same. Not really a day for sight-seeing, Luth."
Luthiel smiled to herself. "Who says I was sight-seeing? Didn't you see me catching rain on my tongue?"
"No." He paused. "What were you doing out here, anyway?"
"I don't know...thinking, I guess."
"About what?"
"Everything." She said, her voice growing softer and lower, her eyes becoming duller. Eothair detected the sadness in her voice, and realized she was talking about Eldarion. Though he had recently woken up after long days of sleep, the past events were ever weighing heavily on both of thier minds.
"I've been thinking about him, too." He murmured, sinking deeper into his hood. Luthiel turned to look at her friend, her eyes wider. "I don't know if things will be the same for him after all this, or for us either. I mean, someone tried to kill you two. Kill you, Luth. That's serious. It's dangerous. And it frightens me to death. I mean, did you ever think something like this could...could actually happen?"
"Nobody does, Eothair. Even people like us, I think...even royalty and everything don't think about those sorts of things. That's why people get killed. Because they pretend things like killing and dying don't happen, and then when they actually affect them, they just keep on pretending... until their pretending conquers them..." Her voice trailed off, and for a moment all was silent. Luthiel stared out at the grey drizzle falling onto the city, and Eothair did the same, his hand around her shoulder.
"I wish I had been there." He said, his voice growing louder with each word. " I would have finished off every last one of them. I wouldn't have let anyone touch you." He finished, and Luthiel turned to look at him. Eothair blushed, and pulled the hood higher over his face. Luthiel smiled back at him.
"It's good to know I have someone like you." She said softly, reaching over and pulling down his hood so she could look at his face. "We all need someone to look out for them."
"I'll look out for you, Luthiel." He said, standing up in place and grabbing her hand, pulling her to her feet. Luthiel followed, a bit surprised, as he began to recite: "On my honor, Luthiel Storm-Child, Crown Princess of Gondor, I vow to protect you by all means, with my very life if I must." He bent down to his one knee, and bowed his head.
Luthiel stared at the boy, her eyes wide. Eothair was her closest and most loyal of friends, the boy who as a child had always watched out for her when they played in the forest, a place he had always considered "quite dangerous...perilous for little boys and girls like us". As they grew older, he never beat Luthiel at swordplay, sometimes to the point of letting her win by a mile at the matches. He never left her side when he was with her, and though Luthiel had always been known for being able to look out for herself, especially with her skill with swords, Eothair seemed always on guard when she was "in his care." Eothair did not live regularly at the palace. His home was at Osgiliath, but he often spent his autumns and winters in the city to join his friends for tournament season. Luthiel had so many memories of her times with this boy, more like a brother now to her than just a friend, that to have him kneel before her was very uncomfortable.
"Are you serious?"
Eothair said nothing, but remained on one knee. Luthiel bit her lip and tried to think of a response. Finally, she stammered:
"I...urm...accept your pledge, Eothair, son of the Steward of Gondor, heir to the River House. And I pledge to you," She said, falling to her own knee. "That I will not let anything come between us, for as long as I live." Eothair took to his feet without so much as a blink, and nodded.
"I accept, Luthiel Storm-Child." And he helped her to her own feet.
There was a long silence in which Luthiel stared curiously up at Eothair's eyes, sparkling even in the grey rain. Eothair's hood had been down, and his hair was soaked now, the raindrops freely dripping down his cheeks and falling off of his chin. Eothair stared back at her, his face almost as surprised as her own looked, and perhaps surprised he had actually said all of that. Noticing a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, he reached forward and pushed it back. Luthiel took a step backward at his touch, but found herself backed up against the wall and unable to move. He pushed the lock of hair behind her ear, slightly pointed at the top, and then stepped back himself. He too was trapped against the wall, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Luthiel covered her mouth to hide her smile. He regained his footing however, and laughed to himself as he stood up as straight as he could. They stared at one another for another minute, and then Luthiel could hold it no more. She broke out into laughter.
Eothair looked a bit hurt. "L-luth, are you...okay?"
"I'm sorry!" She cried, bending over with laughter. "It's just...that was so...so not like us!"
Eothair smiled. "Yeah, I guess it wasn't."
"The staring part, I mean." She added, gasping for breath. "The vows were...interesting..." At this she broke out into laughter again. Eothair stood staring down at her.
"You, uh, didn't like them, then?"
"Goodness no, I liked them!" She said, and her laughter stopped. She stood back up, and looked him straight in the eyes. "I meant what I said earlier, Eothair."
"So did I."
She laughed again. "It's just...you know...standing here staring at each other. It was funny; not like us at all. And then you tripped..." Her voice trailed off, and she stared eagerly at the ground. Eothair turned to look at her, his eyes growing wide.
"You're soaked." He said bluntly, as if he was only just noticing that fact right now, and took off his own cloak. "Here," He handed it to her. "Put this on."
"Gods Eothair! If you didn't want me wet, you should have thought of that before. I'm drenched already, and without any concern as to what a little more wet will do." She handed him back the cloak, and began up the stairs. "You, however, should keep that on. You'll catch your death in this weather."
Eothair shook his head with a smile and pulled the cloak back around him, throwing the hood back over his hair, now dripping wet. "Have you finally decided to go inside?" He said.
"Yes, but only because I don't want you to drown in the rain or anything." She smiled mischievously before hopping over the wall on the side of the stairwell. Eothair climbed up behind her, nearly falling over as he attempted to clear the wall like she had. Luthiel suppressed a giggle, and then began to run all the way across the courtyard.
The guards standing at either end of the courtyard hardly blinked an eye as the princess and her companion raced by them, laughing in the rain. Luthiel's soaking wet hair flew out behind her as she ran, and Eothair's own hood had fallen back, letting the rain splash in his face. Past the White Tree of Gondor they sped, Eothair nearly running into it as he tripped clumsily over the small trellis around its basin. Luthiel led her companion down the side stairwell and into the enclosure behind the palace gates.
"Where are we going?" Eothair asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"We'll go through the kitchens. Mum will have a fit if she says us dripping all over the entryway."
"But-" Eothair began, but he had no time to finish. Luthiel had grabbed hold of his hand and whisked him away behind the pillars of the entryway. Eothair pulled his hood off, now free from the rain, as they stumbled beneath the grey awnings that's path wound lower and lower until they reached the door to the kitchens.
The kitchen door was hardly visible behind the piles of crates, barrels, and urns of wine stacked in front of it. The door itself stuck out from the building, creating a small alcove beneath the awning beside it, where crates filled with chickens stood, their occupants clucking merrily to themselves. Also found in the alcove were baskets of vegetables and fruits, which eager young servant boys often ran down to pluck ruby red apples from, or filch a few hard-earned carrots after their errands were run. Luthiel wove in between the crates as if on an unseen path, and she knew it only from her many trips down to the kitchens to join the cooks for a warm piece of bread and a cup of hot cider every few nights or so. She had made her way quite easily in the dark before, and deftly climbed up and over the barrels with ease. Eothair however had more trouble navigating through the piles. Although he had always been fairly clumsy before, this was much, much worse; a bit like an extremely bad accident waiting to happen. He tripped upon a small crate by his right foot, stumbling into the nearest stack of barrels. Luthiel turned around and helped him up, smiling coyly at him.
"Sorry," he blushed, trying to set the barrels up again, "I don't like close spaces very much."
She laughed. "Just watch your step, and you'll be fine."
"I like the awning, though." He remarked, following her to the kitchen door, carved with a blossoming tree, the crest of the palace. "No rain."
Luthiel took a deep sniff of the air around her. She could smell the pies and breads baking in the room behind the door, and the warm scent of tonight's dinner wafting through the wood and into their nostrils. She smiled, thinking of the warm welcome she'd receive from the red-cheeked cooks. A big hug from Bartholomus, the head cook and a huge, burly man whose arms always seemed better suited for swinging axes than stirring soup. Phoeba, Bartholomus' wife, would most likely wrap them in warm blankets and ladle up some stew for them both, sitting them down at the huge table in the center of the kitchens. Phoeba would call for Masaleus, their son, and a deaf and mute boy with the biggest heart Luthiel had ever known, who would bring them both his famous bread, fresh from the oven. Even Eothair would be able to forget his worries for a few moments while he took in the wonderful aromas of cooking all around them, and finish thier treats.
The kitchen was a huge room; after all, it was fit for a palace, and there were great ovens inlaid in the marble on each side, with huge doors leading from the kitchen to the spacious dining hall of the king. There was only one large table in the center that was often crowded with people during the day, busily preparing meals for not only the royal family, but also for the council members, guests at the palace, and the occasional festivals and feasts. Bartholomus and his wife were in charge, but they had a great number of servants working on many dishes at a time to help with the meals. The kitchen was always quite clean, but the occasional clutter of food and utensils added a homey touch to the room, one which had surely become Luthiel's favorite in the palace. It was always busy during the day, but at night it was like a home away from home, a place where the royal children often frequented to have a sit with thier friends and talk about thier days as they sipped cider and munched upon Masaleus' bread.
Luthiel reached out for the doorknob in front of her, but just as she was about to pull it open, there was a small groaning noise from somewhere to her right. Turning, she knew Eothair had heard it too, because he immediately backed away from the crates beside him and bumped into Luthiel's side.
"The chickens!" He stuttered. "The chickens are groaning, Luth!"
"No, they're not." She hissed, and pressed by him, slowly creeping around the pile of crates. The noise was coming from the alcove, and she carefully crept behind the barrels and urns, peering around the corner. When she did, she saw...well, whatever it was that had made the noise. A dark pile of something groaned again, and Luthiel watched as a hand with dirty fingernails reached out and grasped at a nearby urn of wine. The pile moved a bit, and the hand reached up and threw back its hood, revealing a scruffy looking but familiar face.
"Lord...Halbarad!" Eothair stuttered, moving forward to stand beside Luthiel, realizing there was little danger here.
Halbarad gave very little notice to the two. In fact, he acted as if he hadn't heard Eothair call him at all, and proceeded to empty the contents of the urn into his mouth, as well as dribbling half of it down his chin and all over his black cloak. Dressed as a ranger, he looked hardly appropriate for the person he was, a high place of honor among the Dunedain. He was elected as Lord of the North, and protector of the lands of Eriador. Despite his high office, he had never been unwilling to spend some time with his longtime companion's children, sharing many a trick with Luth and her siblings that mother was sure to disapprove of. Today though, it was hard to tell if the same bright-eyed man who had once taught them how to spit farther than any grown up was the same pile of dirty clothing lying before them. He was unshaven, though he normally was anyhow, and his garb had never looked dustier or more unkempt.
"What's wrong with him?" Eothair gasped, as Halbarad pulled a small flask from beneath his cloak and downed the whole drink. Looking up, he belched rather loudly and smiled contentedly to himself, before his head dropped onto his chest and he began to snore loudly.
"He's drunk." Luthiel said, covering her mouth so as to prevent herself from bursting into a fit of laughter. Eothair stood thunderstruck beside her, his mouth gaping open.
"D-drunk? B-but...h-?"
"How? Well, that's pretty obvious isn't it?" Luthiel said, and began laughing as Halbarad's hand lazily groped for an urn again. "By the gods, he is out of it, isn't he?"
"Well, is there...uh...anything we can do about it?"
"We might as well get him inside. He's almost as soaked as we are, and that's just from all the wine down his front."
"But what if someone sees?" No question who that someone was. Mum would be murderous if she knew her children and their friends were associating with drunks, these drunks happening to be family friends or not.
"They won't. We'll just be careful and mum won't find out." Luthiel said, approaching the drunken ranger and bending over to grasp his arm. Eothair approached more warily, and carefully tapped the ranger's shoulder before Luthiel simply handed him the ranger's other arm. "Come on,' She insisted, grunting as she tried to pull the man away from the wall. "There's no way he'll wake up at this point, and he's too heavy for just me to pull him. You've got to take the other one and help me drag him out of the crates."
"And then where?' Eothair asked as he pulled on the man's arm and slowly slid him across the stone pavement.
"Well, we can't get him sober by ourselves. In fact," she said, setting the arm down and carefully looking the ranger over, "I don't think anything will get him sober at this point. But we can bring him to his quarters, if that's possible, and at least put him in his room. I don't think we should leave him among the chickens, do you?"
Eothair shook his head, shuddering as a chicken in a crate beside his head gave a loud squawk and proceeded to wet her cage with white drippings. "I hate chickens." He muttered, then lifted up the ranger's right side and began to drag him along.
It was hard work, especially when trying to navigate an unconscious body past rows of unsteady crates filled with even unrulier chickens, and trying to lift him over the squat barrels of vegetables in their way. Finally, they were able to bring him out of the kitchens area and into the more open space beneath the grey awning.
"Does this mean we'll be going back into the rain again?" Eothair asked, his voice sounding rather forlorn.
"We might." She said, dragging Halbarad, now gurgling. "I think that if we go behind the pillars where the guards stand, we can use the council entrance. There shouldn't be anyone there right now, and there aren't any soldiers standing around to bow at us."
"I doubt they'd bow if they watched the princess heaving a drunk in front of them." Eothair said, his voice wavering for a moment as he shifted his weight to pull the lord over a rather large box marked "eggs."
"Trust me, they've seen us do worse." Luthiel said with a smirk in Eothair's direction, and proceeded to walk a little faster up the small hill that would take them to the council entrance.
The palace of Minas Tirith has three main gates: one that is entered from the terrace below it, considered by most to be the main one, and also called the Commons Gate. Another from the courtyard of the White Tree, and the most decorated of the doors. And there is the Council Gate, which is a smaller set of doors built out from the eastern side, accessed by a small platform running along the inner terrace of the palace, and the main doorway into the Council Chambers.
The Council was held once a month, and attended by ambassadors from across the kingdom. Besides Gondorians and Eriadorians, there were ambassadors from Harad, Rhun, and Umbar in attendance. Most members of the council lived within the palace year round, returning to their homes for small periods of times on what were called council holidays. Often when the royal family took such holidays, the entire council would go with them, bringing its members to meet at such places as the Ithilien House in the summers, and the Annuminas Palace during the spring.
The doors of the Council Gate will open up into a long hallway, wide and decorated with more black marble than white, and everything gilded with gold. Only two guards stand watch at the gate, these being at the doors, ahead of the two main pillars on either side of the main gate. Inside, since the meetings are sometimes held in the highest confidentiality, there is room for as many as fifty soldiers to be stationed within the main hall, keeping watch outside of the three main council rooms. The rooms are used as follows: the nearest one when one first enters the hall is called the King's Council, and it is the chambers in which the King's immediate council of advisors is held. The next room is on the right side, and its doors are black wood, inlaid with spires of silver. Once called the Steward's Council, it was now the Eastern Council, and home to more private meetings between individual ambassadors, or the king, queen, and thier subjects. It was also where Luthiel and Eldarion were most frequently brought to receive thier sentences of punishment for their endeavors.
The final room was the largest and grandest, and the Main Council hall. It seemed that more often the council seemed to meet within the throne room, but it was officially supposed to take place in the Main Council. This room was silver inlaid in white marble, with huge windows all along its walls that brought most of the room's light source in from morning to night. This room could be seen from outside the palace, a large, round roof and windowed quarter of the back palace, that stuck out from beneath Ecthelion's Point and had views all across the fields and to the river.
It was this gate that Luthiel hoped would be the most discreet place for two teenagers and a drunken Lord of Eriador to enter the palace, and thus make thier way to the guest chambers. There would be only the two soldiers to get past, and Luthiel had snuck past them loads of times to join Eldarion for eavesdropping on the council. Today, if they were quick and quiet about it, they should have no problem getting Lord Halbarad to his room, and hurrying back to their own unseen to dry off.
Making thier slow way up the platform, Luthiel smirked at Eothair, who was warily glancing from the man in his hands to the door looming ahead. They weren't directly on the platform, but had instead kept beneath the cover of the small pathway beneath a long awning running up beside the Council entrance. It was up this ramp that Luthiel wanted to sneak behind, and to keep away from the guards long enough to get herself and her companions inside.
They carefully edged along the ramp until they were beside the council doors. In front of the two pillars, two guards dressed in silver arms stood, one hand supporting a banner marked with the white tree, and the other resting carelessly on the hilt of thier swords. There were content but bored smirks on their faces, most likely from the knowledge that only they of all the guards were beneath a small roof that jutted out from the door, and would not have to stand in the rain like thier comrades today. There had never been trouble here before, and Luthiel doubted that thier suspicions would raise today to be cautious enough to notice the two teenagers and the man held up between them. Though both their arms were exhausted, Eothair and Luthiel managed to hang on just a bit longer to silently slip behind the pillars, holding thier breaths, and ducking without noise behind a statue of Anorien in time for their presence to go unnoticed.
"Good." Eothair whispered, dropping the drunk with a thud. "My arms are-" But Luthiel covered his mouth with a hand and pulled him further behind the statue. She put a finger to her lips and flashed her eyes at him, which was enough to make anyone freeze mid-sentence.
"Enough." She hissed, and pointed to the guards a few yards away from them. One of them must have heard the thud, because he was turned and looking curiously into the shadows behind the statue, fingering his sword. Tapping on the shoulder of his companion, the two began taking quiet steps, drawing thier swords as they approached the statue. Luthiel thanked the goddess that Elendil's marble likeness was quite tall and his boots bulky enough to conceal herself and Eothair behind them. Halbarad tossed and turned a bit on the ground, groggling unpleasantly, but Luthiel gave him a small kick in the stomach, silencing the lord with a groan from beneath his hood.
"Luth!" Eothair whispered, turning towards her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You just kicked the Lord of the North!"
She rolled her eyes. "He'll thank me later." She whispered, then turned back towards where the guards stood, staring blankly at the statue. Damn. She thought, Why aren't they going? We'll never get through if they just stay here gaping at us. The nearest guard took another step forward, and reached out for the statue, supporting himself with a hand as he began to peer around the corner, sure to see the two and the drunken Lord. Luthiel suppressed a gasp and pulled the sleeping Halbarad closer to them. Eothair grabbed hold of her shoulder, sinking back into the wall with fright. Goddess help us!
CHEEEEEEEPPPPPPP! Just as the plea to the Valar had run through her head, a small bird flew out from behind Anorien's left hand, cupped gently in front of him, and threw itself at the guards.
Surprised, both of them cried out and whacked at the small grey flying blur with their hands, stepping back towards thier posts as it chirruped shrilly and flapped wildly about their heads. Luthiel smirked at the brave little thing, a distraction right on time, and grabbing Eothair's arm, motioned to him to pick up Halbarad and quickly drag him along the other side.
By now, both guards were in a frenzy over their little intruder, and whacking aimlessly at the air around them, finally consented to opening the doors and trying to lock it inside. They pulled on the ropes on either side of the doors, and swung them open, the bird still not flying away but instead now pecking and scratching at their faces. Luthiel began to drag Halbarad silently behind the door just as the bird drove the men back to the pillars, screeching and scratching. Eothair stood staring in disbelief for a few seconds, his mouth hanging open as the bird courageously dove in between the flailing arms of the soldiers. Luthiel however, unable to drag the body of the Lord Halbarad by herself, quickly pulled on his shoulder, hissing to come along, and Eothair looked back down at her, trying to discreetly slip behind the other side of the door, and ran over to help. Just as they had successfully entered the hall and were beginning to close the doors behind them, the little bird stopped chirping and making chaos, and hovered for a moment in midair to look directly at Luthiel and Eothair.
"Many thanks, courageous friend." Luthiel murmured to the bird, who gave a chirrup in response. The guards however had gained thier courage and quickly swung the sword through midair, thonking the bird with the flat side and knocking it to the ground, where it lay silent. Luthiel gave a gasp and would have probably returned for the little creature had Eothair not pulled her out of the way before closing the doors behind them.
Once the doors had closed shut behind her, Luthiel slid to the floor, and hung her head. "Poor thing,' She said softly, "That little bird gave its life for us to get through safely."
"Well then, let's not have all that be in vain." Eothair said, helping her to her feet. "I'm dripping all over the tiles, and I'll be damned if the Lord Halbarad's groans don't bring all the council out to see what the fuss is."
"You're right." Luthiel said, sighing with one last look at the closed door in front of her face. "Let's get him back to his room and get dried up." She said, and began tugging on the Lord's arm. The sound of footsteps behind her made her stop in her tracks however, and the shrill gasp of an all too familiar voice made her turn in place, her eyes cast downward so as not to look at the face she hoped would not be there.
"Luthiel Elderel Telcontar!" Her mother cried in her usual no-nonsense tone. Luthiel could already tell she was going to be in trouble, especially considering mother had used her full name. "What by the Goddess is going on?" The queen asked in Quenya, her voice becoming icy as ever.
"Erm..." Luthiel stuttered, her eyes keeping low to the tiles at her feet.
"Who is this?" Her mother asked, striding forward to the pile of dark clothes beneath Luthiel and Eothair's feet, half the council peering curiously behind her. Luthiel rolled her eyes. Wonderful. Public humiliation from my mother in front of the council. Just wonderful.
Eothair remained silent and had turned a bright red. He was absent-mindedly twisting the pull string of cloak around his finger, staring blankly at the Lord Halbarad. Arwen knelt down before the lord and slowly turned him onto his back, pulling back his hood.
"Halbarad?" Arwen leaned back, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of his clothes. "He smells like he's been sleeping in a bird cage."
"Close enough." Eothair murmured, then quickly shut his mouth as Arwen's cold eyes darted up to meet his own.
"Lord Halbarad?" Arwen said softly, gently shaking the Lord's shoulder. Halbarad opened his eyes for a moment, staring vacantly at the queen, then giving a loud belch and turning back over, snored once more. Arwen pulled back in disgust, covering her nose with her hand.
"By the goddess..." Her eyes flashed steel grey for a moment, and she let out an angry hiss.
"Yes..." Luthiel said, in as soft a voice that she could manage. "He's drunk."
"Well, I can see that!" Arwen cried, standing up and backing away from the ranger. "And look at you two! Your hair is soaking, and your clothes-" She reached out and grabbed hold of Luthiel sleeve. Giving a squeeze of the fabric, a huge amount of water splashed from her hand to the floor. "In the gods' names, what were you doing? Just standing outside in this weather?"
"Um...well..."
"Arwen?" Luthiel rolled her eyes as another familiar voice sounded from behind where the council members stood, nervously tittering and muttering to themselves. The king pressed through the crowd, making his way to the front. Arwen turned to him, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing angrily. Luthiel suddenly no longer felt sorry for herself, but for her father, who would probably be receiving more grief from her mother than she would. "What's this?" He asked, peering over his wife's shoulder and from Eothair's downcast eyes to Luthiel's, half closed in fear, and to the body lying between them.
"Your Protector of the Northern Kingdom is intoxicated, Estel."
"What?' Aragorn's strode past his wife to look down at the Lord lying before him. 'Halbarad?" He knelt down, tapping the man on the shoulder. Halbarad groaned, and muttered some cuss words. Aragorn laughed loudly, standing up as he chuckled. 'Ha! The old fool's got himself drunk again! That rascal's gone and-" But he quickly stopped when he saw the look in his wife's eyes, a cold, burning anger that was enough to make even a cave troll silent and shamed. " I mean, um...' He added, his eyes dropping to the ground like Luthiel's had earlier, "That was...um...not good. How...urm...disrespectful."
Arwen glared at him and folded her arms across her chest. "Yes, very disrespectful. But I plan to discuss such details with him once he is sober again, if that is even remotely possible at this point in time."
As if in response to her remark, Lord Halbarad opened his eyes momentarily and requested for a tavern wench and another round of ale. He belched once more, his head teetering lightly, then closed his eyes and let it drop back with a thud onto the marble floor. "Ugh,' Arwen said, her lip curling in distaste. "There is nothing worse than a drunk ranger." She glanced back up at her husband, covering his mouth so as to hide a grin. "And don't you dare smirk. Trust me, my experience with you is what's taught me that lesson."
Aragorn clenched his teeth together, turning red at his wife's accusing eyes. He nodded briefly, then turned to call for servants. "Bring a stretcher, and some very strong tea." He said with a gesture to the nearest guard, and sent the fellow running back in the opposite direction, into the inner palace.
"Tea?' Eothair murmured to Luthiel, momentarily forgetting the elven hearing possessed by the queen and her husband.
"The tea will get him sober. The stronger, the better.' Arwen explained, turning to her daughter's close companion. Eothair nodded meekly, but Luthiel looked up at her mother, daring to stare straight into her grey eyes and clear her throat importantly.
"Yes?' Arwen said, straightening up to look at her daughter.
"May we...er...go back to our rooms, mum?"
"If you hurry." Arwen said, words which sent both Eothair and Luthiel at an eager run down the hall. "But wait!" Arwen called after them, her tone so commanding that half the council froze in place along with Luthiel and Eothair. "When you get to your rooms, dry off and change into a nicer frock for dinner. We're having guests from Dol Amroth, Luthiel, so try to pick out something appropriate. Leave the wet ones next to the fire so they'll be dry when the maid comes to gather them tonight. That goes for you as well Eothair," She added, looking at the boy now, who nodded enthusiastically. "Make sure your clothes are by the fire drying, or your mother will probably have a fit when she sees them soaked. Now, hurry along you two; you're dripping on the tiles."
"Yes mum." Luthiel said, and quickly turned and sped off in the opposite direction. Eothair managed a slight bow and thanked her highness with a gracious wave of his hand before Luthiel pulled him off and to their rooms.
Once she had reached her own quarters, Luthiel waved goodbye to Eothair, who had another few halls to go before he had entered the steward's bedrooms, and quickly entered her room. A fire was in the fireplace, and her bed was still unmade, her nightgown strewn across the pillow. Mother and father always insisted that Luthiel and her siblings take care of their own quarters as much as possible, so simple tasks like making the bed or tidying the room were chores Luthiel was expected to complete. Normally, these were things Luthiel never seemed to get around to, but since mother and father only inspected thier rooms once a week, Luthiel most often held off all cleaning until the night before a visit from her parents.
Luthiel crossed the room and unbuckled her sword on its belt, laying it across the table in the corner. Sitting in the window seat, she reached around her and pulled up all the drapes, letting what little sun there was today into the room. The soft patter of rain was almost comforting as she quickly undressed, hanging the wet clothes from two chairs beside the fireplace. Instead of changing into her dinner dress, she shrugged on her nightgown and padded barefoot to the table, where she sat down and pulled her sword from its plain leather scabbard. Wiping it with the sleeve of her nightgown, she removed the small water droplets that had fallen on the top during the rain. Lightly tracing the line from the tang to the ricasso, she wiped off the small marks along its edges, gently rubbing at specks of dirt here or there.
This sword was Luthiel's life. Her blood, sweat, and whole being had gone into its work, and it had brought her many a victory at both tourneys and duels. A gift from her father for her eighth birthday, her training with wooden sword had finished and her time with a real blade had begun the day he placed the scabbard into her hands with a kiss on her head. The little girl had drawn the sword wide-eyed and speechless, her skinny arms barely able to keep the sword, almost taller than herself, from scraping the ground. Though she had had to wait a year until father had thought she'd grown into it (well, slightly) Luthiel had spent everyday that spring and summer trying to get used to the feel of the blade in her hands. Mother had insisted that Luthiel would not be touching a sharpened blade, so it remained blunt until her tenth birthday, when mother finally consented to allowing father to enter her in a duel. The first day she had held the sword sharpened was also the first day she had spent in a ring, and the first day she had beaten someone besides her brother or Eothair. It had been Mattelend Delegoren, the son of a Gondorian lord, and a boy four years older than herself. Mattelend had put up a fairly good fight...for the first few seconds. Luthiel had seen him duel before; he was all about power, but knew nothing about technique. She drove the power against him, using agility to play him until she had won after but a minute. Father had been very pleased, and the most enthusiastic clapper in her audience. Though mother had held her breath the entire duel, she had been the first to reach her victorious daughter in the crowd and sweep her up into a hug. Luthiel had thought she had never seen her parents look prouder than that first match. From that day, every tourney was a victory, every duel an impressive win, and on it had went for four whole years.
And then she had turned 16. What was wrong with 16, anyway? She still won every tourney, and she was still just as good a fighter as before, probably even better. Now that she was 16 though, there was something different. Everyone could feel it and everyone was being affected by it, whether it was Eldi or father. Maybe it's not the age, it's the year. She kept telling herself, but really was it true? This week alone she had been in trouble three times, nearly killed by street thieves, watched as her brother succumbed to agony, and she had been banned from her next two tournaments. Everyday, if father wasn't too busy off trying to negotiate with some other warring state it was mother being moody as all hell, and if Eldarion wasn't on his deathbed, then Eothair was lost and wandering alone. She'd sat by her brother's bed for three days, coming up with all the things she'd do if she could have one more meeting with those thieves, and thinking about all the things she'd do if her life could just come back. Life as it used to be, when everyone was young and careless and always enjoying themselves. Back when dragons lived in the forest, dragons that only Luthiel and Eldarion could see, and when the biggest adventures she and her friends ever went on were in the garden behind her mother's quarters. The simplicity of those days almost made Luthiel want to cry when compared to all the awful things that seemed to be everywhere in this new and frightening world she had discovered she lived in.
Just the other day she and Eldarion had gone down to the markets with mother to buy some fruits from a street vendor, and saw three starving children working behind the table, food all around them but not a drop in their bloated bellies. To keep attention from themselves, the siblings and their mother were dressed as commoners, but there was nothing Luthiel had wanted to do more than to hand over all the fruits at the stands to them, or to invite them to supper with them that night. Mother had bought four apples for each child before Luthiel could do so though, and dragged her two children back to the palace so they would still have time to help their mother fix the supper. Mother did cook every once in a while, a rare and sometimes rather unenjoyable experience, considering mother's skills in the culinary field. Still, she insisted on doing it, a task she had never been expected to fulfill in Rivendell and something she had seemed to take on along with the role of motherhood: the preparation of an occasional meal. As they had helped her peel the apples, Luthiel had asked her mother about the market.
"I saw you buy the apples for the children." Luthiel said quietly as she gathered scraps and peels and threw them into a wastebasket.
"Mm-hmm." Her mother murmured, not looking up from the juice she was mixing.
"Well, it was...it was odd to see someone like that. I didn't think those things were allowed in Minas Tirith. Starving, I mean."
"Starvation? Starvation isn't something you can just outlaw, Luthiel." Her mother had said as she poured the juice into another bowl. "It's something everyone everywhere must see eventually, whether thier people have outlawed it or not."
"The elves don't have starvation."
"They may starve in a different way." She said, her voice growing softer and a thoughtful look on her face as she stirred the contents of her bowl. "In Minas Tirith, your father has tried very hard to stop the horrors this land was reduced to with the stewards, but some of those things still remain. All you can do is try to make a difference, whether you give one man a meal for the rest of his life or fill the bellies of millions for just a day. That's what's important."
"You mean, the importance to make the choice then?"
"I suppose, if it's possible to choose. And not just for starvation. For every issue that exists here in our city, and in Middle Earth, from the most complicated to simple matters of life or death, which can sometimes be far from simple. Would you save an old man close to death, or a newborn baby, about to die?"
"The baby, I suppose. Just because it has more life ahead of it, more promise."
"And what if I told you the baby would grow up to be an evil man, a murderer?"
"If he took lives, more than what would have been taken then through the death of one old man, then I would choose the old man instead."
"Then you've learned justice, as well as a sense of morals." Arwen smiled at her daughter. "You get that from my side of the family." She said with a wink at her daughter. Luthiel smirked back.
"Just like the good looks and the super-intelligence, right?"
"Exactly. Hand me the orange fruit, if you please." And it had ended at that. But Luthiel hadn't stopped thinking about the children. She had spent that whole night lying awake in her bed, staring at her ceiling and trying to remember the hardest things in life when she had been those children's age. She could recall being afraid of losing anything, especially fights, and also sometimes of small spaces, a fear she had carried with her to teenage years. What did those little children have to be afraid of? Much, much more than she had ever had to think about at thier age. Where did they sleep at night? Outside, on cold, stone streets where they could be robbed, or kidnapped, or killed as they lay asleep? Or perhaps their greatest fear was death itself, something that seemed so close in their starving, sickly eyes. Those eyes stayed with Luthiel all night, and when morning came she found her own eyes still open, and her mind filled with many questions.
But everyday in a teenage life was filled with questions anyway, questions about who you were, or who you were going to be, or why the hell the gods put you where they did. Why was she a princess when she could be a common girl, with fewer responsibilities and more time to fight or to talk like a real person or just be herself? Why was she faced with wearing a crown when gods knew she'd be better off wearing a knight's armor, sword in hand, or in common clothes, living off the land? Could it ever be? No, of course not. She couldn't take any steps backward in this life, not even to do the right thing. What happened had already happened, and the things that had the most effect on now and what was to come were the things that had happened before her lifetime. Her father had fought the enemy, he had defeated him, mother had waited and stayed loyal to both parts of the family: the men and the elves. Father ascended the throne, mother gave him an heir: Eldarion, the child whose destiny was to take up the throne and rule someday, the great weight of all men. Then, she too came into the world a year after her brother, and thus became what she was today: Crown Princess of Gondor, the highest honor any girl could ask for in the society of men. All without any concern for her eventual welfare, or what such an honor could really mean.
Life was a struggle between fulfilling her said "destiny", and trying to be normal. Sure, she could find many positive assets to being royalty, but along with all those wonderful things were some awful ones too. These awful factors had truly started to show the night she and Eldarion were attacked, and the night Eldarion was poisoned. Something suspicious had happened; there was no doubt in her mind ever since she had seen the black blood on Eldarion's bandages. Whoever had struck her older brother down had struck him for a purpose, and that purpose they had fulfilled...almost. Whatever thier motive: hatred, political and religious ties, or some other reason, these people had targeted she and her brother because of thier namesake and thier bloodline. If she and Eldarion hadn't been different, what would have happened? If they had been normal...none of that night and none of the things that she'd have to face eventually as a princess would ever come true.
"But I'm not normal." Luthiel said aloud, setting down her sword on the table and standing up. She pushed back her chair with a clatter and went to stand before the mirror beside her bed. She gazed intently at the glass, only to find the same frustrated girl staring back at her as always. Her long black hair hung on either side of her face, framing the pale skin with raven-black locks. Her grey eyes stood out, stubbornly glaring back at herself in the mirror. Her father's seductive frown became visible, and she almost felt like growling back at her face, at her own existence. "If only this were someone else's face." She said aloud, and frowned menacingly at the girl whose silent answer stared back at her with her own eyes.
The eyes flickered momentarily at a shadow on the wall behind her, and Luthiel watched through the mirror as a dark figure silently crept from behind the curtain of her bed to sit on the ruffled covers, the head turning in her direction. She suppressed a gasp, reaching instinctively for the sword laying idly nearby on the table. Jumping toward the bed, she grasped the curtain and with a flash, pulled back the covering and swung her sword at...nothing. There was nothing there. Luthiel's mouth hung open as she stared in wonder at the vacant bed. Had she been...dreaming? Had it only been her imagination?
But how? She raced about the room, drawing back all her curtains, opening her doors, and crying out in anguish to find there was no one there but herself. Turning back to the mirror, she stared intently at her reflection once more, half-hoping to see the shadow, but saw nothing but her own face, staring angrily back at her.
Luthiel sat down on her bed, the sword dropping from her hands and clattering to the ground. "I am not going mad." She whispered, repeating the words over and over again until she felt satisfied. Luthiel stood up, slipping silently into her dinner gown, every once and a while whirling where she stood to stare at her bed, always empty. Not like it was a minute ago. She would think, then shake her head and try to clear herself of such childish thoughts. You're acting like a baby. She told herself, trying to smile confidently at her reflection as she straightened her hair and pulled it back with a leather clasp. There was nothing there. It was your imagination. After that thief attack...your mind just hasn't steadied yet. She thought as she left her room, taking one last cautious peek at her bed before closing her door behind her. Luthiel sighed, shaking her head at her own silliness, then turned only to bump into someone's chest. She gave a shriek, and jumped in place.
"P-princess L-luthiel?" A thin boy of about her own age, with long, straight, white-blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes stared down at her, his mouth hanging open. "Did I frighten you?" He asked, rubbing his small, upturned nose nervously.
"No...I'm fine." She said, supporting herself against the wall and letting out a deep sigh. Turning back to the boy, still standing there with the same surprised expression on his face, she frowned. "And who are you?"
"Greatest apologies, my lady. I must introduce myself." He took her hand in his and bent to kiss it. "I am Gareth, son of Garamond, Lord of Dol Amroth. I am to be your escort for dinner tonight."
"You are?" She said, stepping forward. "I...uh...never heard about that."
"Your brother, the Crown Prince, instructed me to do so."
"Did he?" Luthiel said, raising an eyebrow. Another one of Eldarion's attempts to bother his sister, no doubt. Eldarion enjoyed asking especially rude or disgusting boys visiting the palace, whether they be dignitary's sons or ambassador's nephews, to escort his sister. Generally they gave her horrid times, much to the amusement of Eldarion and the giggling presence of her sisters, but Luthiel found it extremely unpleasant, though she always treated the experiences with good-natured humor. She wondered what nasty attribute this fellow had that had encouraged Eldarion to pick him for the task of annoying his sister as her doting escort that night.
"Yes, my lady. But if you do not think I am able or worthy to be your guest, I will gladly step down and allow someone of higher birth to-"
"No, no. That's fine." She looked the boy over. He was, surprisingly, (considering most of Eldarion's picks for her companions fit along the lines of rude, crude, or generally foul), extremely good looking, though her experience was that most men from Dol Amroth were. Mixed Dunedain and elven blood gave them exquisite features, and made them the most popular with the ladies at the festivals and feasts. Not as if it mattered to her; Luthiel had never taken any interest in men, except for thier fighting skills. To her, the only good thing about good-looking males was that normally they were easier to beat in a tournament, and it was common that the shinier the armor and sweeter the face, the faster they fell before her sword. Still, this Gareth boy seemed strong enough to be able to handle a sword well, and by this age, he should have been in at least a few tournaments. Gareth smiled eagerly, holding out his arm for her to take. She carefully placed her hand over his and sighed sadly as they began the long walk down the hall.
She dreaded formal dinners; between the long, dragging dresses and the boring conversation that the ambassadors and such only seemed capable of, what wasn't to loathe? If politics came up, it was normally something uninteresting that she could find little to contribute to, and if tournaments were mentioned, it was only to schedule a council around them. Dinners such as this were common, once a week at the least, and something Luthiel and her siblings were required to attend. Eldarion, as Crown Prince and a future ruler of Gondor, normally tried to look professional, attempting to look interested and attentive when the guest began talking about the loss in trade of mussels. By the end of the discussion though, his head too hung over his plate, and he occupied himself pushing bits of vegetables back and forth with his fork. Isilme was always suppressing yawns and trying to act polite, every once and a while reaching over and warning Gilrael not to blow her nose into her napkin, a fruitless labor considering Gilrael always seemed to have some sort of feigned ailment when a guest came. Gilrael often smiled and tried to sympathize with Luthiel, the only one of her siblings who wasn't even attempting to be interested or paying much attention to the dinner itself. Head down and staring unfocused at her plate, she went through her food in almost silence, only glancing up every once and a while to grin at a sibling during an especially awkward moment between the guest and her parents. This seemed to happen quite often when the discussion began circling around politics, or religions, or even once when the head of trade became too liberal after one too many champagnes, and began talking about all the awful attributes of elves. Once he was down to his physical problems with the race, Arwen simply stood up and left without so much as a word or glance to the head of trade, turning only once to glare over her shoulder at her snickering children before exiting the room entirely. Other times, the food itself was enough to make them laugh. The children had seen everything from stuffed bladders to pig's heads on plates before them, and they soon learned to finish quickly and never ask for seconds. Luthiel ate her meal as fast as was polite, feeding the leftover scraps and the more exotic looking foods brought by the far-off and eager- to- impress dignitaries to the dogs under the table.
Haleth and Huan were the family's wolfhounds, two fine dogs that followed the children wherever they went, especially at mealtime. They knew that by lying beneath the table at the children's end they were sure to receive a scrap or two from giggling Gilrael, or Eldarion, who saved his vegetables for them, and always Luthiel, who scratched behind their ears under the tablecloth and slipped them pieces of her meat. The other family pets included Varne, Isilme's black cat, a creature Luthiel had considered a general nuisance ever since Isilme had brought it home as a gift from her Uncle Elrohir. Varne, whose name meant guardian, was feisty and fierce as ever, and she normally scratched and spit at whoever came close to Isilme when Varne was in her presence. Eldarion joked that the cat was better than a guard dog; Luthiel joked that if the cat and guard dog were ever to meet, Varne could probably tear the dog's eyes out anyway. Varne was the type of animal that Luthiel made a point of stepping on as often as possible, and frequently "accidentally" dropped her books upon its tail when it lay curled up on her table she shared with Isilme in the library. Isilme knew that Luthiel hated the cat and tried her best to keep the two separated; Isilme was not one for conflict. Varne however somehow always managed to find a way to annoy Luthiel, whether it was stubbornly placing itself upon her chair and refusing to move, or tripping her in the hall, hissing and clawing at her leg when she fell to the floor and cursed at the angry feline. Luthiel hated that cat, and was glad it never attended the feasts as often as the dogs.
Gilrael had owned at one time a pet rabbit she had named Anor, since it was a golden-brown and had reminded her of the sun, but the rabbit had been lost during a summer in Ithilien when she had left the cage door unclasped and discovered it missing by morning. Gilrael had only been three and didn't relate well with the experience, but in about a week Gilrael had soon found a frog in the pond behind the manor and adopted it as Anor the Second, though he looked very little like the sun. The rabbit had been seen once more a day after in thier mother's garden, chewing contentedly on some lettuce, but was never seen again after it hopped into the azalea bushes. Luthiel's memory of the rabbit was that it was a very picky eater and had red, glowing eyes that made it look like its father had been a demon of sorts.
Eldarion had his own pet as well, since Haleth was essentially his dog. Haleth enjoyed the company of any member of the family, but ever since he was a puppy, he had lain on Eldarion's bed at night and sat by his feet at every meal. Haleth went hunting with Eldarion and on most of their adventures in the forests, Haleth keeping an eye out for Eldarion at all times.
Huan was thier mother's dog, except for during meals, where its chances of being fed were equal at the children's end of the table with at its lady's feet. Huan never parted from Arwen, and guarded his mistress in the same way that his namesake had guarded Luthien Tinuviel. Huan was a sweet dog, but if any stranger approached Arwen in his presence, his fur bristled and his teeth began to show.
Essentially, every member of the family had some sort of personal pet but Luthiel. She didn't know why; she couldn't even think of a time before now when she'd wanted one. But suddenly she had a great longing for a companion such as those, one who would silently follow no matter the destination and ask for no more than her love and the occasional bit of food. Seeing her siblings with their animals only made it worse. How long had she seen the joy in Eldi's face as he raced down the front steps, Haleth barking at his heels? Or Isilme's content smile as she rubbed purring Varne's ears while she read in her favorite chair in the library, or Gilrael's squeals of delight at the slimy frog slipping between her fingers, or the furry bunny in her arms? Perhaps it was time Luthiel found a source of happiness of her own, something to come everywhere with and share her time with...speaking of which-
Luthiel stared uncomfortably at her escort, who was beaming as he led her down the hallway. Gareth flashed another pearly white smile and held his head as high in the air as he could manage without looking like an ostrich. Luthiel gave him a weak smile back, and turned to the floor, biting her lip and thinking: Well, at least someone's enjoying this.
"My lady?" Gareth turned to her. "I was wondering if you could…um…"
"Yes?" She looked back at him, frowning. His blue eyes widened at her expression, and realizing she may have upset him, she quickly smiled back. He wiped the frown off and the look of pride returned to his features.
"I wondered if perhaps I could be your escort again tomorrow night, if you wish."
"There's another one of these tomorrow, too?"
He nodded fervently. Luthiel hid a grimace.
"Oh…" She attempted to coat her sarcasm with another smile. "It sounds alright with me."
"Wonderful!" He nearly jumped in the air, and she wouldn't be surprised if he had clicked his heels. "Long have I dreamed of meeting you, my lady. And now to be your escort to a dinner...'tis my dream."
"Oh, good." Luthiel said, suppressing a yawn and looking up at the rafters as they walked. She tried not to think about the dinner to come, sure to be just as boring as all the rest.
The rest of the walk was spent with Gareth giddily chattering away about his home and his family and almost every minute of his life that had added up to this moment he was spending with his beloved princess. Luthiel tried to let her mind drift and see if she couldn't block him out altogether, but he often pulled on her arm during his more rapturous parts of the speech, bringing her back to her surroundings. When they finally reached the front doors to the dining room, Luthiel was ready to fall asleep.
The two guards outside gave thier normal bows and pulled back on both doors, swinging them open with a slight bang. Luthiel winced as the door hit the wall with a deafening crash, calling the attention of everyone already seated to the two people in the doorway. Luthiel stared around her at her mother and father, giving her expectant looks from thier chairs at the end of the long, black-wood table. She gave them a weary smile back; she could see they too were surprised she had an escort. As usual, Eldarion was far from it. He grinned widely at the two from his seat towards the other end, winking at Luthiel as she sat down across from him, a servant rushing forward to pull out her chair before she sat. Luthiel kicked him hard in the shins once she was seated; take that for grinning at her expense. Gareth seemed amazed by all of this; Luthiel rolled her eyes as the lord-ling wiggled his fingers eagerly and tried to suppress reaching out to touch everything laid out before them. He was already examining one of his silver forks when Luthiel reached over and took it from him, gently placing it back beside its gold-plated partner. Gareth looked over and blushed, frowning and avoiding eye contact. "Sorry..." He mumbled, but she attempted to smile back and come up with something about an urge to feel forks happening to guests all the time, but all that came out was "feel my forks." Gareth grinned and touched her arm; Luthiel sighed and placed her head in her hands.
Isilme was staring wide eyed about her, her mouth hanging open like some sort of dying fish as Luthiel seated herself at a diagonal to her sister. Gareth was attractive, it was true, and Isilme had obviously noticed this. Her eyes had grown to the size of saucers and her lowered jaw practically to her chest by the time Eldarion elbowed her in the side and hissed something at her. Most would hardly blame her had they been in her situation; Isilme was surrounding by very good-looking strangers, and the one sitting almost across from her perhaps the best looking of all. There were two men farther down the table Luthiel didn't recognize, their clear eyes and blonde hair distinguishing them as men of Dol Amroth, and thier fine garb as lords. They had both stood up when Luthiel had entered, giving her small bows from beside the table. They both had brought escorts of thier own: a blonde woman sat in bright blue next to the one wearing green and gold, and a woman with chestnut hair and stunning dark eyes was resting her hand on the arm of the one with slightly whiter hair. Luthiel turned to glance at them down the table, where they were quietly conversing with the king and queen. Aren't they going to introduce us? Luthiel thought, and glanced across at her brother. Knowing what she was thinking, he nodded.
"Those are Lord Hindarel and Lord Telemark," He murmured in a low voice, leaning across the table. "They're here to discuss business with father and mother, about some recent arrests in their city. Apparently, the Umbarians are back at the black trade again. And they've refused all tariffs and are threatening blockade. Pirating and everything." He gave her an important look, like this was something that almost everyone should know.
"How do you know all that?" She hissed back.
"I heard mother and father talking to them earlier. Hindarel's the one in blue, and Telemark's in green. They're both delegates from Dol Amroth."
Isilme leaned towards Luth. "Are you with him?" She asked, staring mesmerized at Gareth, who was busy looking down the table at the king and queen, far down the empty chairs.
Luthiel nodded quickly, rolling her eyes as she did so. Isilme looked surprised.
"And you don't like it?"
Luthiel shook her head.
"Are you kidding? He's a god!"
"He can hear you..." Luthiel hissed back, pinching Isilme's arm and pushing it towards her chair. Isilme glared back before sinking into her cushion with a pout.
Gareth turned back to them, smiling eagerly at the royal children. Gilrael was the only one grinning back at him, waving from her slightly heightened chair. He waved back, then stared happily at the other children. Luthiel sighed and leaned against her elbow, Eldarion gave him a weary greeting, and Isilme stared bug-eyed like he had grown three more attractive heads.
"Why do we sit so far away from the others?" Gareth asked, nodding towards where the king, queen, and delegates were seated.
"It's only when they have important business to talk about. They might have us move when the discussion is over, to be polite to the guests." Eldarion said, then turned to Isilme. "Gareth, this is my sister Isilme. I don't believe you've met." Isilme shook her head rapidly, and Gareth took her hand from across the table, kissing it lightly and smiling at her. Isilme nearly fainted.
"The pleasure is mine." Gareth murmured, then grinned widely at Luthiel. Luthiel suppressed yet another sigh of grief.
"I met Gareth earlier this morning." Eldarion explained to his siblings. Luthiel tried to use her expression to tell him she had no idea why he was telling them this or why they cared to know, but he ignored her. "I was on my way...uh...back to my room, and he met me in the hall. He had gotten lost, and I helped him find his way back. We started talking and realized we would be attending the same dinner tonight."
"What a coincidence." Luthiel murmured, not trying to hide her sarcasm. Gareth nodded enthusiastically, obviously missing her tone of voice and mistaking it for some sort of happy surprise.
"Yes, yes, odd, I know! I was pleased to hear we'd meet again, and surprised to discover his true identity! I'd have never known I had been talking to the prince of Gondor. He hadn't told me his name until after we'd talked for an hour at least. I was blown away!" I'd like to do the same to your chattering head...Luthiel thought as she wiped her sweating hands with a napkin.
Eldarion laughed. "Yes, you should have seen the look on his face. It was quite funny."
"Where's Eothair?" Luthiel interrupted, changing the subject. She knew he wasn't here, nor would be, but the mention of his name was all she needed...
"We were talking about Gareth and I.' Eldarion said through clenched teeth, glaring at his sister. Luthiel rolled her eyes and shot back:
"Yes, and it makes for rapturous discussion, I'm sure. But where is Eothair?"
"Who is Eothair?" Gareth asked, bouncing in his seat as a salad was placed before him.
"The steward's son." Luthiel said quickly, before Eldarion could finish saying something like: "Just a friend."
"The heir to Ithilien?" Gareth said, then smiled eagerly at the nods from the children. "Oh, excellent! You must introduce me!"
"Why don't you two get together tomorrow?" Luthiel suggested between mouthfuls of lettuce. "You could spend the whole day in the palace. I'm sure he'd be glad to give you a tour..."
Eldarion looked up from his own salad and frowned angrily at her. Luthiel, knowing that if she forced Gareth onto someone else for tomorrow, exactly what her brother would do to her, she'd won Eldarion's little game.
"No," Eldarion said loudly, "Not Eothair. He doesn't even live here full-time, nor has he seen the whole palace. I think Luthiel would be better suited for such a tour." Luthiel glanced at her brother.
"Me? I have so much to do tomorrow. Not saying that I'd rather fence or anything than give you a tour Master Gareth," She said, and Gareth nodded like he understood. "It's just that a princess has only so many things she can do in one day..." She waved her hand in front of her face and tried to look dainty and delicate and generally princess-like.
"Well then, cancel some of it and give him a tour." Eldarion said, as the salad bowls were picked up and the second course served.
"I can't cancel. These are lessons arranged by the royal house of Gondor. Its my royal duty to attend them, and any who prevent royal duty are thought very poorly of indeed." Luthiel gave him a confident smile. See if he comes back on that one.
"They'll understand. You have duties to your guests, as well." Eldarion shot back. Luthiel glared at him.
"I can't. I'm sorry." Luthiel said defiantly.
"Yes, you can."
"No, I really can't."
"You can, trust me."
"No brother, I seriously can't."
"Yes, you most certainly can and will."
Isilme and Gilrael's heads were going back and forth from one sibling to the next like they were watching some sort of ball and racquet match. Gareth looked a bit confused at their arguing, but he was still smiling as he sipped the stew on the table.
"No, I won't."
"Luthiel, I will cancel for you."
"No you won't!"
"Yes, I will." Eldarion folded his arms across his chest. Luthiel made her final maneuver.
"Oh! You'll take him on a tour? Splendid! Gareth, Eldarion will take you on a tour of the palace tomorrow. Doesn't that sound wonderful?" Luthiel asked, smiling sweetly first at Gareth, then rather smugly at Eldarion. Eldarion stared defiantly at his stew, and stirred it angrily with a spoon.
"Oh, that's just magnificent!" Gareth cried, clapping his hands. " Thank you from the bottom of my heart, my Prince. I owe you my life.
And I owe you mine...for a day off! Luthiel thought happily, sitting back in her chair and sighing with relief. She felt Haleth bump his head against her knee and reached down to rub the dog behind his ears.
Victory is sweet...