Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR.

Note: Thanks to my beta Hybris who is as amazing as she is fabulous. Seriously she puts up with my random binges in different fandoms. Great friend, great writer and great beta.


Chapter 1: Fractured Heart


Her screams echoed into the hall, bringing a stampede of people running to her side as she coughed and choked through her tears.

"Lothíriel! What's wrong? What happened?" Callused hands grasped her shoulders in panic, yet still, she could not stop her cries. "Help! Someone call father!"

More voices echoed around the room as she was too blinded by tears and pain to even try and look around her.

"No, someone should call a healer first. Lothíriel breathe! You need to breathe." Another, still young, but older than the first speaker's, voice spoke up, seeming to pick her up and place her on a chair.

Lights flashed as she tried to open her eyes fully, blurred with smudged colours and blobs surrounding her. She could still feel the bite of the edge of the knife against her throat as someone tore it open with a blunted knife. Her abdomen ached with pain from the multiple stab wounds she had received, as her baby was killed in her body.

'Hurt in my home. I was supposed to be safe there.' She thought, screaming as the images and sensations repeated over and over. Gripping the edges of the book, she felt overwhelmingly frightened as her fingers refused to move.

"What's she holding?"

"Her fingers are white...Get it away from her!"

Different hands grabbed her wrists and pried her fingers away from the book. Shrieking at being held still, she suddenly collapsed into the chair the instant the book was away from her, gasping as the sensations began to fade.

"She killed my baby! She killed me!" Lothíriel's voice cracked as she sobbed, breaking down into more tears as louder, heavier footsteps burst into the room.

"Lothíriel? Lothíriel are you alright?" Gentle, firm fingers pulled her hands from her face, as her loose hair was pushed back, "Easy, easy. Deep breaths, my bluebird. You are safe. I am here, I am here."

Worried grey eyes stared into her own, as her eyes focused on the man before her. Long straight raven hair, pulled back from his slightly tired-looking her gaze to his beautifully embroidered doublet, Lothíriel felt herself slowly come back to reality. He placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her with the slight pressure and firmness of his hold.

"Lothíriel repeat after me; "I am your father. You are safe in Dol Amroth. You have three older brothers."

"You are my father. I am safe in Dol Amroth. I have three older brothers."

"Good. Keep saying it over and over alright?"

"You are my father. I am safe in Dol Amroth-" Over and over she repeated the lines, slowly becoming more grounded in the present. She was 9 summers old and a daughter to the Prince of Dol Amroth. She wasn't a courtesan, with a Nobleman for a patron that had a disapproving murderous mother. She was safe in her home, guarded by Swan Knights. She wasn't hiding in a lavish, but small home.

'I am not dying. I'm not pregnant. I am not dying. I'm alive. I'm alive. Taking deep breaths Lothíriel felt her shoulders relax as she clenched and unclenched her hands. Glancing towards the equally lavishly clothed boy behind her father - her older brother, she reminded herself. She noted he held the book she had been gripping tightly. It was an old, worn book, bought years ago as an addition to the family's private library. Elegantly decorated leather-bound its aging pages; it had been decorated so beautifully she had grown curious to read what tales it held.

'How can he stand to touch that? It's so angry. A hate-filled book with death in its pages.' Shivering violently, she rubbed her neck with one hand and held her stomach with the other. Tears continued to drip from her face as she tried to calm down after experiencing such a brutal death. A warm hand wiped her tears from her cheek tenderly, bringing her attention back to her father. Lothíriel stared blankly at the man as he carefully pulled her into an embrace. He was so holding her so gently, as if she were made of glass and one wrong move would shatter her to pieces.

"You are alright, you are safe. I promise. I am here; I will protect you."

Resting her forehead against his steady chest, she felt herself relax. Her father was the bravest, strongest man she had ever met; so long as he was there, she knew he'd save her. Her father would keep those promises. Slipping into unconsciousness she wasn't afraid anymore as he continued to repeat his words over and over in her ear.


The first thing she noticed was the throbbing pain her head was in. The second thing she noticed was that she was back in her room. A low light shone from under the door as murmuring voices talked in urgent tones.

"-gift has never activated like this before!"

The whispers became more urgent as they began to speak a little louder, before quieting down after a loud noise echoed from the door. Breathing carefully, Lothíriel tried to call out to her family that she was awake. A harsh pain from her throat stopped any noise from spilling out and her eyes to water in pain.

"- her gift was just sensing emotions from objects?"

Flinching at the remark on her "gift", she weakly hid her face into her pillow. Her body gave little violent spasms in protest to the movement, causing the dull pain to spike for a few moments. Keeping her breath steady she managed to calm down enough to understand some of the conversation happening outside her room.

"-seems the stronger the emotion, the more likely she can witness what happened to the person."

Horrible images of the young woman who had been killed so viciously flashed before her eyes.

'She had been beautiful,' Lothíriel thought, 'Gorgeous, wavy dark hair, and piercing dark eyes. Her face looked like the Ambassador from Pelargir.' Her skin reminded her of the colour of sand at twilight, golden and dark in its splendour. Looking at her own sun-kissed hand, she wondered if she would get as dark as her if she stayed outside for the rest of the Summer. That woman had been so happy before she was murdered. Shivering as phantom sensations of a knife against her neck and belly coursed through her, Lothíriel bit back the whimper that wanted to escape her mouth.

"-can we protect her?" Was that Elphir or Erchirion? The pain made it hard for her to pick out which of her brothers was talking. The pain spiked again, forcing her to lay completely still and just focus on her breathing for a few moments until it died down again.

"-take care of her. She is in Minas Tirith."

"Are you sure? What about Uncle Denethor?"

The word broke Lothiriel from her reverie, jolting her back into awareness as her father's voice spoke up again. Trying to get past the low pulsing pain, Lothíriel carefully sat up, having to pause multiple times to breathe through it before managing to fully sit up. She must have made a noise, for the whispers grew quiet and her father stepped back into her room with Elphir standing behind him.

Looking at him tearfully from her bed, she gave a little cry as he made his way over and gave her a gentle hug.

"Oh bluebird, are you alright?"

Leaning into his embrace, Lothíriel buried her face into his neck. Shaking her head tearfully she whimpered again, her throat closing up in protest.

"Lothíriel, does your throat hurt?" Elphir sat by her side and began to rub her back gently, Once she nodded, he called for a servant to bring some tea and honey for her throat, along with something light to eat.

At the mention of food, her stomach began to grumble, causing her father to pull away from her and give her a small smile as she weakly reached out to drink her from her cup of tea.

"I'm so sorry you experienced that, my bluebird. You've been asleep for a week now."

Leaning over to kiss her forehead, her father sadly smiled down at weakly over her teacup, Lothíriel swallowed down her shock at how long she had slept before wondering if she was going to get any answers.

Her brother unbraided her hair and began to brush it out as her father took the time to gather his thoughts.

The warmth from both the tea and her family's actions spread through her body. Lothíriel loved her family so much at this moment. Relaxing at the combined soothing sensations, she made herself comfortable as her father looked ready to talk.

"You know...you never met her, but your Aunt Finduilas also had a power that grew as she got older."

Lothíriel blinked in surprise, as her Aunt Finduilas was rarely mentioned at all. She was like a ghost; everyone was really careful when they mentioned her.

"You never told us this father." Lothíriel giggled into her tea at the offended look on her eldest brother's face. He clearly was upset he had never been told before.

"Your aunt has always been a ...difficult topic to talk about Elphir. She was much loved in our fiefdom and we were both heartbroken and happy with her marriage to your uncle." Her father looked so troubled as he spoke, his gaze flickering between her and her brother, wanting both of them to understand.

"Her death also came too soon after her marriage...I miss her very much." A moment of silence filled the space before he gave his head a little shake and reached out to tap her on the nose, "You remind me so much of her, my little bluebird."

Finishing her tea in a big gulp, Lothíriel ignored her brother's light tug of disapproval in regards to her manners. Clearing her throat, she raspily asked, "Do we have the same gift father?"

Her father's eyes seemed to sadden slightly as he reached out to take her teacup away from her.

"Not particularly...You have a lot of her face, my daughter. The Valar have blessed me with a child who looks like a beautiful combination of the two women I loved most in the world."

Lothíriel smiled as he placed her hand in his as he leaned forward, as if telling a secret to her.

"I see my sister in your eyes; her eyes. I see your mother in your smile, her darling smile." He smiled wistfully as he traced her face with his gaze. "Your Aunt Ivriniel claims she can hear a young FinduiIas when you sing. I particularly enjoy hearing you sing your mother's lullaby."

Smiling up at her father, Lothíriel was happy to hear his words. Her mother was a near-legendary figure of beauty and skill in her memories. Looking down slightly, she couldn't help but feel that pang of pain and longing when she thought of her, even in her happiness.

"If Lothíriel and Aunt Finduilas don't have a similar gift, then how did hers grow?"

'Elphir always did hate not knowing things,' Lothíriel huffed a small laugh at his slightly annoyed look, 'Of course he would try and steer the conversation back to information.'

"...Ever since the days of Mithrellas' daughter, our womenfolk and a few of our menfolk have been blessed with various kinds of gifts. Your Aunt Finduilas had the gift to hear conversations carried by the wind." Elphir made a small noise of amazement as he exclaimed his interest in such a gift.

"How did it work?" Lothíriel started, as a bitter look crossed her father's face for a moment before it returned to a calm look. Her brother didn't seem to notice as he paused in his brushing, sensing that their father would finally, finally talk about their aunt.

'Father never really talks about her. Not even Aunt Iviriniel talks about her.' Lothíriel always wondered about that. Why wouldn't you talk about someone you loved?

Her father took his time, clearly thinking hard on how to start the story. It might have been only a few minutes but to her and her brother, it felt like hours before her father began to speak.

"As a child, whenever there was a windy day, your aunt would be able to hear all manner of conversations from across Dol Amroth." His eyes grew distant, voice becoming soft, as if he was mentally somewhere else, seeing someone else as he looked at her, "As she grew older, her range grew as well. This is how she caught the attention of your Uncle Denethor."

"Did he wish to have her use it 'For Gondor' too? Valar knows the grief he's given Cousin Faramir over the years for his lack of control over his gift." Elphir lightly sneered under his breath. Cousin Faramir was always his favourite cousin, feeling more kinship with the more scholarly inclined cousin. Looking up at the bitter look on her eldest brother's face, a new idea bloomed in her mind

'Does...does it bother Elphir that he's not as much of a warrior as the rest of our siblings?' While a skilled swordsman, his true gift lay in writing and managing others. Everyone said that he would be a great Prince of Dol Amroth.

"Your cousin is, unfortunately, the exception to many things." Lothíriel scoffed at that obvious understatement. The first man in their family to have a gift in who knows how many generations, and it's a gift he can't even control.

'Though to be fair...control seems to be something really rare to have over our gifts.' Shuddering in remembrance of that book, Lothíriel tuned back into the story.

"No...my sister heard him one day. We were travelling through Lossarnach when she suddenly asked the carriage to stop for a break." Pausing, her father turned to pull out his locket. On one side was a minute of their family, on the other was his two sisters. "I had never seen her like that before. She had looked mesmerized as she closed her eyes and listened to what the wind was carrying to her. She looked like she was one moment away from bolting and following those words back to their origin."

"Aunt Finduilas could hear him from there?" Elphir sounded shocked at the news, pausing once more from his hair brushing. Lothíriel poked him in annoyance, he had just restarted! Why did he have to stop so quickly? Elphir looked at her pout and smirked, ruffling her hair into disarray and prompting her father to chuckle at their antics as he put his locket back under his doublet.

Lothíriel thought a smile suited him better than whatever that was on his face before. She would forgive her brother for messing up her hair like this.

"Her range was great Elphir, though in Dol Amroth she was safe from being overwhelmed. The sea's roar could be louder than the wind, giving her much respite on days when it grew to be too much." She could believe that its roar was more powerful than her aunt's gifs. The number of myths and superstitions surrounding the sea was as vast as all of Gondor. Only the elves knew what was fact and what was fiction.

"What did she hear father? Did she fall in love with his voice?" Lothíriel knew that love had very little to do in a marriage. She had met enough people by now to understand that her parents had been the exception, not the rule. Still, Aunt Finduilas must have fallen in love if she looked mesmerized...Right?

"I believe so bluebird. She never told me what she heard, but from then on she would offer to travel more outside of Dol Amroth. You must understand that your aunt disliked leaving our city. She loved this place more than anyone. I always believed that if she had been born a male, she would have been a greater Prince of Dol Amroth than myself." That was high praise! Her father was already getting the reputation of being a greater man than her grandfather, who had aided Steward Ecthelion II, their cousin's grandfather, to fight against the armies of Mordor.

"Looking back, it is obvious that she was searching for him. We didn't know who he was at first, but eventually, our family was called to Minas Tirith for the annual training session between the Swan Knights and the Knights of Minas Tirith. Your aunt, for the first time, offered to come along." Her stomach grumbled at the pause, causing her to flush in embarrassment as her father and brother laughed softly. Her father took pity on her and passed the large bowl of, now-cool, soup for her to eat as he continued his tale.

"That's when you found out?" Elphir asked, braiding Lothíriel's hair in a fishtail braid.

"Yes, though your aunt found him first. She had disappeared shortly after we had arrived. It was when I was sent to find her for dinner that I saw them talking in the gardens. Your uncle was smitten by the end of the day and they courted mostly through letters and the odd visit for the following year."

"How romantic!" Lothíriel sighed. She never would have guessed that her aunt and uncle had such a romantic relationship.

"Yes, yes, very sweet. Though I never expected our sour grape of an uncle to be so twitterpated in romance." Elphir huffed in amusement before tying the end of her braid with a ribbon. Giving her a one-armed hug, they both looked expectantly at their bemused father.

"Your uncle has changed a lot over the years. Not all for the better, but the stress of ruling Minas Tirith and being tasked with the burden of Steward with no King for support is no easy thing."

"What happened, next father?" She felt so much better in their presence. The phantom pains completely gone and her throat not irritated anymore. Drinking more of her soup, Lothíriel wondered what would have happened if they weren't there. She wasn't stupid; she knew her father was just distracting her with his story and brother was doing the same with her hair. She was blessed to have such a family.

"Your Aunt married your Uncle and they were blissfully happy for a time. Boromir was born right after the wedding. He too has many of your Aunt's features. He has the same eyes as you Lothíriel."

'Is that why Uncle favours him so much? Because he looks like Aunt Finduilas?' Drinking the last bit of soup, she slowly started to eat the cold cuts of meat and cheese as her brother interrupted again.

"But...didn't our Aunt die soon after the birth of Cousin Faramir?"

"Five years after, to be precise, but yes. Minas Morgul had been getting more and more active during this time. The dark clouds had just recently become a more permanent feature over Mount Doom when Finduilas was married." Her father was getting tired. She could see the deepening of the lines on his face, as he grew closer to the end of this tale.

"Did Uncle Denethor have Aunt Finduilas listen for information?" Elphir interrupted again. Her brother could be such an annoyance sometimes. Her father gave them a look before forging on with the story.

"No. By the Valar, I do believe Denethor would have killed the first man who made such a remark in her presence. He loved her so much. Too much, if that's possible." Her father paused once more as he looked at them with a weird look. He seemed to be debating something before he shook his head sadly.

"...Why did our Aunt die, Father? If Uncle Denethor didn't have her use her gift then how..?" At this rate, she was going to name her brother, 'Elphir, the Prince of Prying and Picking at Sore Topics'. Honestly.

"Her power had grown too strong by then. Just the slightest breeze was enough to give her so much information. At first, your aunt managed to get control over it, and ruled over the court with such skill that even to this day the lords and ladies make comments about it." Lothíriel wondered if those lords and ladies knew the truth about her family's lineage. In Dol Amroth, the nobility knew of course, but outside of it? Very few nobles or courts were given the privilege of knowing in detail about their gifts.

"Why didn't she just come back home?" Lothíriel would have come back. If she was feeling overwhelmed and her power was growing out of control, she would have definitely come back home.

"A reason your Aunt worked so well with your Uncle is that she was just as, if not more, stubborn than him. She was the only one who could out-talk him and bend him to her will."

Lothíriel scoffed at the remark. Now, these just sounded like excuses. "Your cousins were so young during this time. It wasn't safe to travel with them and your aunt would never leave them alone. Especially since…"

That complicated look was back. Lothíriel shared a glance with her brother as they both looked worriedly as their father seemed to lose himself in his memories for a moment.

"Yes?" Elphir prompted.

"No. Nothing...Regardless my sister was stubborn, and at the time we had been fooled into thinking she had mastered her gift enough to control her range; that she would be safe when using them; that she would turn to us for support if she needed it." It seemed that no matter how many years passed since her Aunts death, her father did not seem to be as over it as she had believed.

'How awful that must have been for him,' Lothíriel thought, 'To watch someone you love not turn to you for support.'

"What happened, next father?" Lothíriel whispered, her father felt very vulnerable to her right then.

"We didn't know at the time, but your aunt had been using her gift to obtain information and had been writing it down for your uncle. I was never allowed to read the full contents of those books, but what I did was enough for myself to understand her fear for her family. She had managed to stop countless assassination attempts on her children and her husband".

'Frustration,' Lothíriel thought, 'and pride. Why didn't she reach out to our family for help?'

"Your aunt…She found a wind current that blew from the heart of Mount Doom. It would be this accomplishment that eventually killed your Aunt." The silence grew once more as both Lothíriel and her brother tried to understand that sentence.

"I thought Aunt Finduilas had the Sea-Sickness? That she Faded away for the sea?" Lothíriel asked, now feeling a little...off that it was her Aunt's own powers that led to her death.

"Your cousins were so young back then, and yes, your Aunt did long to have the protection of the sea once more. But that wasn't what eventually killed her…" Lothíriel had never imagined that silences could have teeth. That they could swallow words so quickly and threaten the rest leftover so thoroughly.

"...No, it was more... That is to say... The horrors of that mountain followed her wherever she went, feeding into her dreams and overwhelming her entirely till she could barely sleep. She dared not risk the chance for dreaming." Shuddering against her brother, Lothíriel tried to hide her unrest at this explanation. Shifting in her bed, she stuffed her mouth with bread, hoping to ignore her heart's suddenly wild beating.

"...How did our aunt die, Father?" Elphir whispered. For once he didn't sound so pushy.

"Slowly...My sister died slowly. Her body grew weak from lack of sleeping and eating. With such a delicate state of health, she fell ill and eventually of our healers could help her by that point. Her body wasn't strong enough to fight it off, and nothing she ate stayed down."

His eyes were misty-eyed as he looked down at his hands. This story wasn't fun anymore. Lothíriel wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the ending.

"She did not make much sense by the end. She cried for the sea before she died, probably wishing to be protected once more...It deeply hurt your Uncle, the fact that he couldn't protect her." He hadn't said it aloud, but Lothíriel knew he had included himself in those that had been hurt by her last words.

"I'm sorry father. She sounds like an amazing person." Lothíriel murmured, her voice seeming to snap her father back to the present.

"She was, my bluebird. She would have loved you." Turning to look at the family portrait in Lothíriel's room, he smiled gently before turning back to her and Elphir, "All of you."

Clearing his throat, her father stood up seeming to need the distance. "Speaking of Minas Tirith, I would like you to know that we are travelling to Minas Tirith this month."

"We, father?"Lothíriel had never been included on their trips before. Everyone claimed she was too little to travel, then her mother died and there just never seemed to be a time for her to see the White City.

"Yes, Amrothos and Erchirion, along with yourself will be travelling. Elphir will be practicing to rule in my stead. Erchirion is to join your cousin for a patrol and Amrothos is to be squire to one of our Swan Knights. He's old enough now and Lord Alagastor is a man I know will take care and teach your brother well."

"And I, father? What will I be doing?" Lothíriel was happy for Amrothos. Really, she was. But if she was stuck in the nursery during this whole trip then she would just have to rebel. It was her first time out of Dol Amroth! She wanted her adventure.

"...Your Aunt Ivriniel has asked for you to be her companion for a while. She wishes to visit a distant relative of ours in Lossarnach and has thought that perhaps you might like the adventure."

Clapping her hands in glee, Lothíriel ignored Elphir's reprimand on her behaviour as she bounced about in her seat.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! Thank you so much!" Beaming from ear to ear, she couldn't wait to get going! Oh, the wondrous things she would see! The people she would meet!

"Don't sound too happy now, for I will miss you terribly. Your aunt is to take you shortly after we arrive in Minas Tirith, so make sure to pack enough warm clothes for the stay." Minas Tirith was colder than Dol Amroth throughout the year, and Lossarnach was wetter by far. She would have to pack wisely to make sure no stay was uncomfortable.

"Yes sir." Clapping her hands again, Lothíriel felt rejuvenated as she planned on everything she would take and do.

Rough fingers pushed back traitorous strands of hair away from her face, as her father laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Calm yourself, my bluebird. You must be tired after all of this excitement. I'll see you on the morrow." Smiling up at the man, Lothíriel hugged his waist, before doing the same to her now standing brother.

"Good night Father. Good night Elphir." Snuggling under her covers, she curled into her sheets as the door gently closed.

Her father's voice lingered as he left her room. "Good night Lothíriel."


Moonlight streamed into her window, gently pulling her back from the darkness as she blinked her sight back into focus. Her body was in agony, every little movement was painful; even breathing was a trial. The room was pitch black, with no candle nor fireplace to warm the space. Thankfully her sheets were warm and heavy, or she would be far colder than she currently felt.

Straining to adjust to the darkness, Lothíriel found herself staring at the white ceiling before her, wondering how she had ended up in her room. Turning her head carefully to the side, she froze at the sensation of her hands tied down with a rope to the bed. Struggling to remain calm, she noticed her ankles were in a similar predicament. Her entire body was tied down and caged to her bed, limiting her ability to move and wrench her way out. Feeling her breath accelerate in panic, images upon images of horrible acts and atrocities came rushing back. Lothíriel sobbed, her voice too wrecked to make a noise as she began to silently scream as she recalled the horror of Minas Morgul and all that blade had revealed to her.

By the time the maid had come and reported to her Uncle that she was awake, Lothíriel had stopped silently screaming. Instead, she was staring emotionlessly at the ceiling, numb to the world as she blocked reality from her mind. A teardrop fell from her eyes as she turned her gaze back to her room. Her uncle would arrive soon to ask what she had seen...And Lothiriel would never be free. Her father was such a liar. He hadn't kept her safe at all.

'Why father? Why did you leave me to my Uncle? Why did you abandon me to this fate?' He was never around when he was in the city, always preferring to stay at the barracks or with his men on another level. She wished she knew what she had done to make him hate her so. Covering her eyes with her arms, Lothíriel prayed for her cousin Boromir to return. Or for Faramir to come to visit.

She didn't want to be alone. She was so tired of being alone.