She pranced away from King Éomer's hand, but before he could make chase after her, she turned and looked him, willing him to understand her. He didn't move and watched her carefully. Hoping that he was paying attention, she began to scrape one of her hooves along the mud. Moving carefully enough to make each letter legible, she wrote out I am Princess Lothíriel. It took quite a bit of time. Each curve required her to turn her entire body, but as soon as she finished the final letter, she looked at the king expectantly.
Seeing that she had stilled, he approached her and looked down at the lines in the mud. She watched him, waiting for the surprise to appear. It didn't. He smiled at her. "What a lovely dance that was, my lady." He patted her neck kindly.
'Well you're not entirely wrong.' A sudden thought occurred to her, 'What if he can't read?' She had heard that most rohirrim never learned to read or write, instead choosing to pass on stories and songs by word of mouth. She looked down at her attempt, defeated when she realized that even if her father had tried to read her writing it would be unintelligible. In her focus, she had not taken account for her other hooves and stepped over the previous letters she had spent such time on. Without the words to aid her, it probably had looked like nothing more than a silly dance.
"Are you trying to tell me your name?" The king's voice brought her back from her thoughts and a new idea came with his question.
'Lothíriel means flower garlanded maiden,' she searched the plains for several seconds. There were no maidens, and she doubted that she would have any luck finding – let alone making any kind of garland – when her eyes stopped them. A few feet away were bundles of tall, yellow flowers. With joy, she jolted forwards, stopping just before the blooms. 'This will do quite nicely!' She bent her head down and gently plucked what would have been a fistful of flowers. Carrying them in her mouth, she brought them back to the king. 'This has to work. It's me in here!' She could feel her ears twitching as she waited anxiously.
"Flower Dancer," he stroked his golden brown beard for a moment. Lothíriel blew out of her nose at the proclamation. He seemed to take it as confirmation and declared, "It is a fine name. Now we must be on our way. I cannot spend the day playing with you when a princess needs to be found." Without another word, he turned and replaced his hand on her back. Having no other ideas, she followed his lead.
As she came closer to the gates of the city for the second time that day, she paid more attention the the intricate carvings and colors around her. Within the city there was the sound of singing and laughter from men, women and children alike. It was odd for a city to seem so alive. From her experience of Minas Tirith, she expected the city a king would reside in would be ponderous and solemn. This was anything but. If she had to search for one word to describe the city itself, she would choose alive. It was not a something she would despair of. She had always found Minas Tirith to be somewhat stifling. She had always thought it had been a little wonder that it had driven her aunt to death and her uncle to insanity.
They continued up the hill together. King Éomer's gait never slowed, nor did he seem to tire from the walk itself. She was rather impressed, though she didn't know why she would be. 'He is a warrior of his nation. If he couldn't keep up a normal pace while ascending a hill without flagging, I don't know how he would maintain himself in battle.' Content with her thoughts at present, she continued studying the houses they passed. Nearly everything here was made from wood. If she had simply been told that, she might have first assumed that the people who had constructed such buildings were rustic barbarians as some Gondorians were inclined to believe. But seeing how the skill of not only the carvings but how the beams themselves had been shaped, she could see these people were as talented with wood as her ancestors had been with stone.
She had been so focused on the details surrounding her that she hardly noticed they had reached the top of the hill where the king's hall stood and a little below it were his royal stables. She took a few steps forward before realizing that King Éomer had halted. She turned her head and looked at him. He grinned at her kindly before beconing a stable hand.
"This is Flower Dancer. See to it she is stabled and groomed." He turned his attention back onto Lothíriel, "Hopefully our lost princess will be found before dark, but no matter the case, I will come back to check on you in the morning." He patted her neck once again before turning and marching up the steps to his hall. While he made his way into his home, she was turned and led away by the boy.
A/N: Poor Lothiriel! I hated making her do all that work for nothing! Although she's still pretty graceful, she hasn't quite gotten used to her new body. I hope you like her new name: Flower Dancer.
I'll be posting more very very soon! I can't wait to see what unfolds for our trapped princess!
Feel free to review and let me know what you thought!