I know, I know, putting up a new story while working on a previous one is probably bad news. But I was looking through old documents on my computer and found this. I read through it, did some editing and really loved the story I had going with this so I am going to see if it's something people would like continued! A new chapter of Chance Encounters is nearly finished, I haven't abandoned it in favor of this (: Please, I would love to hear your feedback! As always, I don't own the material.


There was blood. So much blood, so many bodies. They lay around her as far as the eye could see, and she felt like she was choking on death. As she looked around her, she saw a young woman among the bodies reaching towards her. She had long blond hair and was dressed as a warrior. One arm lay at her side, black and blue and clutching her sword, and her wild grey eyes were pleading for help. Lothiriel ran towards her, but every step she took seemed to take her further away. Out of her sight, someone let out a piercing, agonized scream.

Lothiriel bolted upright in her bed, gasping for air. The nightmare had come again, just as it had for the past three nights. Each time she woke up stretching her arms out into darkness, trying to reach the woman, to find the origin of the anguished wail. The pain was almost palpable in the sound, and tears stung her eyes when the source eluded her grasp.

With a sigh, she stood up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Dawn was still hours away, but she knew that sleep would not come easily again. So she grabbed her journal, a candle, and wrapped herself in her robe before stepping out onto the balcony of her room. There were days where she desperately missed her home by the sea, but overlooking Minas Tirith at night was one of the times where all of that was washed away. The candles flickering in the windows, the moon shining overhead and illuminating the White City, the stars twinkling off the river in Pelennor. It was easy to see why this place was the crown jewel of the kingdom where she grew up.

She skimmed through the sketches in her journal, briefly pausing as she passed the ones of her family. Amrothos grinning at her, Elphir rolling his eyes, Erchirion hunched over his desk, her father sitting by the fire studying old maps. She smiled, sending each of them a prayer as she passed their faces and settled on a fresh page.

Sketching and drawing had always been something of an escape for Lothiriel, a way to organize her thoughts and keep the darkness within her mind at bay. So it felt right to her when she put her pen to the paper and began to draw the woman from her nightmare. The spirit in her grey eyes, the untamed golden locks, the sword she clutched so desperately; each detail meticulously and carefully attended to, until she finally felt that the rendering gave justice to the nameless woman. She set down the pen, gazing at the paper and trying to push all of her thoughts regarding this woman and the screams that accompanied her into the ink, willing it to take all of her fears with it as it dried.

The first light of dawn was creeping into the sky, covering the world in gray light and signaling that it was time to begin preparing for the day. She had just finished tucking her hair up when a knock came on the door.

She opened it to see a man of the guard standing there. "Lady Lothiriel?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied, confused. She had always found her own way around and knew her schedule. This was quite out of the ordinary.

"The steward has summoned you. If you will please follow me."

He turned and strode away, Lothiriel following closely behind. They made their way through the city towards the Citadel in silence while Lothiriel went over every possibility of being summoned by her uncle. She wrung her hands together, trying to dismiss the nerves. Her studies had been going quite well, and she had not broken any court etiquette that she could think of, which left one far more likely possibility. The fear that had been growing in her mind since she first arrived in the city took root in her thoughts. But as she mounted the steps of the Citadel, she pushed it aside. Her resolve had been firm with her father, it would be with her uncle, and so it had to be within herself as well.

The doors opened and she was lead to the Seat of the Stewards where her uncle sat. Lothiriel was never really afraid of him, but his presence did unnerve her. He was aged beyond his years, and more often than not was a strong and silent presence in the room. Her father told her that he used to smile and be joyful until Findulias died. His grimness had grown heavier since the news of her cousin's untimely demise had come only a week earlier, and Lothiriel was convinced that the very air around him became dark and heavy.

"My lord," she bowed her head and curtsied.

"My dear sister-daughter. What a joy it has been having you in our city! How are your studies progressing?" he asked, though Lothiriel could tell it was the last thing that was on his mind.

"Quite well, my lord. I have learned much. But let us skip the pleasantries. They are unnecessary amongst family, and given the circumstances I feel we should get right to the point."

A smile appeared on his lips, but the light in his eyes was anything but pleasant. "Ever impatient, I see. Very well, as you wish. The city is being emptied. Our enemy is moving, and the time he will strike draws near. It is time for you to leave Minas Tirith."

"With due respect." she began, raising her chin and pressing her shoulders back just enough to make her appear taller than she was, "I came to this city to learn, which I have done. The art of healing is one of my strongest subjects and I wish to remain here and provide my services to those who would need me. I did not come here to run and hide." her voice came out strong and sure, betraying no nerves or second thoughts of her request.

Denethor regarded her quietly. This dark haired Daughter of the Swan and Sea reminded him so frequently of his sister. It was because of this that he always had a bit of a soft spot for her. Her manner of speech, the fire that danced in her grey eyes, she was so like her mother that sometimes it almost unnerved him. Her request was not unlike something his late sister would have asked for.

"When you arrived, your father asked me to ensure your safety and I gave him my word I would do my best. These are dangerous times, and grow ever more so each day. It would be in your best interests to leave the city, as I cannot uphold the promise I made to your father if you were to stay." he stated carefully. Lothiriel gazed back at him, unflinching.

"My lord, if the enemy is moving and the city is being evacuated, that means that you suspect we will come under attack. If that is indeed what it should come to, you will need all the hands that are available to save the wounded. If extras are being offered freely, would it not be prudent to accept them?"

"Why do you seem so eager to remain here, when all that awaits is death and despair? Would you rob your father of his only daughter in your search for honor and glory?"

Lothiriel flinched at his words. Even from a man as formidable as her uncle, they seemed a low blow.

"I do not wish for honor and glory." she stated quietly.

"Then why do you wish to stay?"

"Because I am a part of this world that we are fighting for. I am a person with services to provide beyond the connections that my name would offer!" She felt her cheeks growing hot, but there was nothing she could do except continue. "Just because I was born a woman and a princess does not make me irrelevant and useless! I can be of assistance, I am a good worker, and I would be ashamed to know that everyone is playing their part while I hid away."

She held his gaze and stood tall, refusing to back down. After what felt like ages, Denethor simply nodded. "As you wish. You may go."

Lothiriel nodded, curtsied, and turned from the hall. When the doors finally shut behind her, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She wandered out to the edge of the circle that housed the Citadel, letting her mind wander. There was fear in her mind, but the resolve to be useful was stronger than that. Her father's words echoed in her mind. "Without fear, there can be no courage because there is nothing to overcome."


The days passed by in much the same fashion after her discussion with her uncle and consequently the evacuation of the city. She rose each morning and broke her fast alone in her room, and then would go to the Houses of Healing to continue her lessons. At the end of each day, she would walk along the ramparts of the city before she returned to her room and went to bed. Four days after the evacuation of the city, she had watched as the beacon of Amun Din was lit for the first time in her lifetime. She felt hope rise in her chest as she watched little flickers of light popping up in the distance that signaled the call for help was being sent racing across the countryside to Rohan, and the world seemed a little less gray.

Two days after the beacons were lit, she spotted the white figure racing across the Pelennor. She squinted at the figure to discern what it was when she realized that it was a horse! A great white horse that was moving at speeds she had thought impossible. A small pang of envy flashed through her, and she wondered what it might feel like to fly across open plains at such a pace.

She stood on the rampart watching in awe as the figure continued its relentless approach and finally reached the gates of the city. Curiosity filled her mind, but she decided that her inquisitiveness could wait until whatever errand that demanded such speeds was completed. But as she wandered through the city towards her chambers she couldn't help but wonder who it was riding such a beast and what tidings they would bring.

That evening she sat quietly on the balcony of her room, aimlessly leafing through the pages of her journal. There were sketches of the ocean, of the cliffs that she had jumped from so many times as a child, and many of her family. She stopped on the page with the picture of the woman from her dream. It had come each night, sometimes just before she woke to begin her day, others in the wee hours of the morning, but always there. With a groan, she massaged her temples. Everywhere she went, everything that she did, she couldn't get the woman or that blood curdling scream out of her head. Slamming the book shut, she walked back into the room and blew out her candle, preparing herself for another night of haunted dreams.

When she awoke the following morning and prepared for her day, she received a notice from the master she was working with telling her that something important had come up, and that their lessons would be suspended for the day. As she was pondering her options, she remembered the horse from the day before and her curiosity was renewed. So she set off toward the stables, grabbing an apple on her way out.

As she wandered through the streets, she realized just how quiet the city had become since the evacuation. It certainly wasn't a surprise, but that didn't change the fact that it put her on edge. Throughout her childhood, when she would come here with her father, she would marvel at how much energy and sound filled the city. There was a constant hum of conversation around the marketplace, children laughing, carts clattering on the stone streets, and now there was absolute silence. The occasional passerby was a guard or a soldier, and they rarely said anything. The only sounds that they made were their steps that echoed off the houses and buildings around them. She felt a shiver run down her spine and shook her head, pushing the sound of nothingness from her mind with thoughts of getting to the stables. She was afraid of what would fill that void in her mind if she let it linger too long; besides, she wanted to get a better look at the stallion that glided across the plains like the wind itself was carrying it.

As she was approaching the stable, she heard a voice from behind her.

"Lothiriel?" She turned to see Beregond, a guard of the city whom she had friendly conversations with here and there. He would walk with her to the Healing Houses sometimes, or join her for her ventures on the ramparts if he was patrolling that night. She liked Beregond, he had a level head on his shoulders and a kind heart.

"Beregond!" she said with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been charged with showing Master Peregrin around the city! He is your Lord Uncle's newest charge."

Lothiriel noticed for the first time the small person standing beside him. He stood no more than three and a half feet tall, but his face seemed older than a child's. His feet were bare and wide, and it looked as though he had never worn shoes in his life. About his shoulders he wore a grey cloak that was fastened with a small golden leaf at his neck, and his strawberry blond curls looked as though they would never be tamed.

"Pleased to meet you, Master Peregrin!" she smiled down at him. "Pardon me for saying so, but I have never seen your kind in the White City before! What brings you here?"

He laughed, a tinkling sound that made her heart feel lighter. "Please! Call me Pippin. All this Master Peregrin talk has me feeling far more important than I am. To answer your question, I come with Mithrandir to bring counsel and news to Lord Denethor. As for my kind, we rarely journey outside the borders of our own land. I am a hobbit! A halfling of the Shire, at your service Lady Lothiriel."

"A halfling! What strange times indeed. I should love to hear stories of your home and the journey that has brought you here if you have time during your stay. But before your tale, I must ask. Did you arrive on a horse that flies across the ground as though there was fire in his blood that gave him speed?"

Pippin's face broke into a smile. "I did, my lady! Although I must admit, I would not have been able to stay seated on such an animal myself. I was sent here to ensure that Shadowfax is well cared for, would you like to see him?"

Lothiriel just nodded and smiled, following him into the stables. At the far end of the building, in the largest stall stood Shadowfax. He let out a nicker when he saw Pippin approaching. Up close, he was even larger than he had seemed. His coat was pure white, and he had wise, knowing eyes.

"He's beautiful." she breathed, not daring to reach out the hand that clutched the apple.

"He is!" agreed Beregond. "But where is his tackle? A horse of this magnificence should be outfitted with the best saddle and bridle Gondor has to offer."

Pippin shook his head. "No, he will not accept such things. He will either bear you, or he will not."

Lothiriel had barely been paying attention to their conversation. She finally found her voice, stepping forward hesitantly.

"Hello. You're quite beautiful. I brought you something." she murmured, holding out the apple towards him. He regarded her carefully, and after a moment he deemed her trustworthy and took the apple from her hand, munching on it happily. After he had finished he looked back at her, and she put out her hand very carefully. "May I…?" she asked. He again studied her for a moment, and for a moment she felt as though the animal could understand her. Very carefully, he stepped forward and placed his nose on her outstretched hand. She let out a breath and smiled at him, gently rubbing his face. "Thank you." she whispered, and he nickered softly at her.

"Well he certainly seems to like you!" said Pippin cheerfully. "It's a great honor, from what I have been told. Shadowfax is quite particular." He turned back to the horse and smiled at him, giving him a small bow. "I'll ensure that more food is brought for you, and be ready when Gandalf calls for you!" Shadowfax whinnied and tossed his head at Pippin in acknowledgement.

"Shall we then? I'm starving myself, and I'm quite ready to find some food! Lady Lothiriel, would you join us?"

She grinned, accepting his offer without hesitation.

They made their way to the kitchens, grabbed some bread, cheese, some salted meat, and some grapes before making their way to the wall of the city and finding a place to eat. Pippin sat on the edge of the wall, his feet dangling as he told stories of the Shire and of his adventures that brought him here. They laughed and sang and their moods lightened more than they had in a very long time.

As the sun started to sink towards the horizon, Beregond was called back to his post, leaving Lothiriel and Pippin to their own devices.

"It is remarkably strange to be in such a large place." commented the hobbit as they passed through the streets. "Things are much smaller back home. Even in comparison! Our world is so simple compared to the majesty of this place."

"I envy that of your life, Pippin. My whole life, I have been taught the etiquette and customs and 'proper' ways to act to demonstrate the sophistication and apparent superiority of our people. But I have never been happier than riding my horse through the waves of the sea or running barefoot through the grass. If all of those customs and rules do not bring people joy, then how are they supposed to be superior?" she mused quietly. "But please, pardon my bold words. I sometimes allow my mouth to run away with me."

Pippin just regarded her with a quiet kind of curiosity. This daughter of a Prince, a highborn woman of a great kingdom speaking jealously of The Shire was not something he had anticipated ever experiencing in his lifetime.

"There is nothing to pardon! It is an honor to hear you speak of my home in such a way, my lady. Perhaps one day you will make your way there. I would be happy to show you all the simple pleasures it has to offer."

"Please, call me Lothiriel."

Pippin grinned at her. "Alright, Lothiriel. Shall we begin heading back towards our rooms? I believe it is getting late and I for one could use a good night of sleep."

After that day, Lothiriel and Pippin would spend every waking moment they could find together. They would walk through the city, talking about everything and nothing, laughing together and sharing their fears and sorrows. Pippin spoke often of Merry, another hobbit he had traveled with, and how much he wished that Merry could have come with him. Lothiriel told him of her father and brothers, and of the cliffs by the sea. So came to be the unlikely friendship between a Hobbit of the Shire and the Princess of Dol Amroth.


Lothiriel was awoken by the drums and distant marching that shook the walls and foundations of the city, and with a pang of terrifying realization that the time had come she dressed and ran towards the Healing Houses. They were already preparing, running to and fro ensuring beds were prepared and that there was clean water, bandages, and herbs readily available.

There was nothing, no amount of training or lessons that could have prepared her for the things she saw during that night. The screams of the wounded, the blood, the hopelessness of each soldier brought into their care. But she pressed on, attending to each person as well as she could and changing out the supplies as soon as someone was able to move.

It was nearing the morning when Pippin had come running in as fast as his little legs would carry him, demanding a bed and informing her that they were bringing Faramir as fast as they could.

"What?!" Her voice sounded strange to her own ears as she sank to a crouch against the wall. "He… How is he?" she asked quietly, barely more than a whisper. Pippin shook his head solemnly. "We saved him from your uncle, and he is alive. But he needs more than that." Lothiriel fixed her gaze ahead and breathed deeply in, deeply out. Meeting Pippin's eyes again, she offered him what smile she could. "I'll do everything I can." she said as she stood. Pippin returned her smile. "I know. That's why I came to find you."

Shouts of "Make way!" and "Coming through, now!" came from behind them. Lothiriel gave Pippin's hand a squeeze, reminded him to stay safe, and then pushed everyone aside to make her way to her cousin's side.

It was hours later when she finally rested. She had done everything she could possibly do for Faramir, and now the fight was in his hands. After looking for a cot without success, she found a corner and slumped down into it. "I'll just shut my eyes for a few moments…" she thought before falling into sleep. She had no idea how long she slept for when she was startled awake. Blinking her eyes, she looked around for whatever it was that had woken her - and then she heard it.

Horns. Thousands of them. Not the terrifying, dark horns of Mordor; no, these were strong and clear and bright, and when she heard them she wept with relief. Rohan had come.