"May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary."
Xan Oku
Part 1 : The Early Years
Ages in this chapter are the following :
Imrahil - 55
Aeardîs - 45
Elphir - 23
Erchirion - 20
Amrothos - 16
Lothiriel - 11
Chapter 1: T. A. 3010
Elven and human unions have always been rare, due to those relationships being fraught with tragedy and doom. The line of the Princes of Dol Amroth is no exception; while very little is known about the Elven maiden Mithrellas, who chose a man of Gondor as her husband, the gifts her Elven blood has granted her descendants ensure that she is never forgotten.Gentle hands trembled slightly as they adjusted and pinned back curly dark hair. Their bearer's soothing voice hid any nervousness their hands had betrayed, as each pin was artfully put back into place.
"How on Arda did you manage to get your hair so messy in such a short time, Lothíriel? It was only a ten-minute walk from our rooms to the Waiting Hall and yet, you have somehow managed to loosen every pin in your hair. You look more like you have just stepped off a boat, rather than finish a leisurely family stroll to the hall."
Lothíriel held back a sigh as her naneth adjusted her hair one last time before moving on to fix the collar of her eldest brother. It wasn't her fault that she had been cursed with the uncontrollable curls of her late grandmother, which poked out of the traditional Gondorian hairstyles.
Elphir stood still, ever the dutiful son, as their naneth fussed and primped him up, yet Lothíriel could not help but worry for him and Amrothos. Much like Aunt Finduilas, their health deteriorated the longer they were away from the sea. Her parents had both promised her that the "sea-longing", a frankly simplistic way of calling their sickness, in Lothíriel's opinion, didn't set in that quickly.
'I suppose they have a point,' she mused, 'Aunt Finduilas didn't start getting sick till she had been in Minas Tirith for almost a year, yet…'
Lothíriel could see through the nearby window a dark, ominous cloud hovering unnaturally over Mount Doom in the horizon. The sight frightened her, as no matter how hard the wind would blow, the clouds would not drift away from their spot.
She had heard many a soldier and courtier gossip about it in hushed tones, as if speaking about the strange clouds plainly would call upon a curse to befall them. Lothíriel had even heard one lady of the court gossip to her naneth that many believed it was the shadow and not the sea-longing, that had killed the Steward's wife.
'I wonder if that rumour is true, after all, it's not even been a fortnight and there has been a marked difference in Elphir and Amrothos behaviour.' She felt her mood drop as she recalled how Amrothos had begun to complain of a slight headache earlier in the day, while Elphir had taken to staring in the direction of the sea from every window more frequently.
Glancing at her naneth's calm, beautiful face, Lothíriel promised herself to be more like her, a proper lady of Dol Amroth.
"Now remember, your uncle may seem like he is in a dark mood, but it is solely due to the pressure he is under. Things haven't been well here in Minas Tirith, as they have back home."
Amrothos scowled at the remark, slumping against the pillar by the door and pulling out a small knife to fiddle with. He had been the most vocal in not coming to Minas Tirith and the least happy to see their father become the new Prince of Dol Amroth.
"Why are we having the ceremony for adar here in Minas Tirith? Shouldn't the new Prince of Dol Amroth be sworn in … oh, I don't know, Dol Amroth?"
Naneth finished doing one last adjustment to Elphir's collar before gliding elegantly towards her youngest son. She smiled serenely as she carefully took the small knife from his hands before yanking him into a more upright manner.
"A Prince never slouches, Amrothos. Remember, he must always present an air that is both regal and proud. This is a very important day for our family and your adar is counting on all of you to uphold the honour of our family name."
Lothíriel hid a giggle as Amrothos pulled a face at her before schooling his expression into a more acceptable one befitting his status.
"Yes, naneth."
"It is a tradition for the Prince to be sworn-in, in the capital city. Imrahil must renew his vows to the Steward and reaffirm the agreement between us, as decreed by the first Prince of Dol Amroth. After being sworn-in, with the witnesses being the Royal Family of Dol Amroth and the High Lords of Gondor, there will be a small feast in his honour."
Here, Lothíriel noted, her naneth hesitated, before continuing to lecture Amrothos as she straightened his sleeves and collar.
"However, considering the state of the city I don't believe the traditional feast will be -"
One of the guards by the door must have signalled her naneth since she suddenly stopped what she was saying and began rushing to get them all in line from eldest to youngest. Lothíriel watched Amrothos groan again as he was suddenly dragged to stand behind Erchirion.
Not a moment later, and the doors opened, allowing Lothíriel to see her adar standing in front of a marble desk where her Lord Uncle loomed from his throne-like chair. There were a few other finely dressed Lords in the room, standing around the sides of the table, each looking slightly wan and pinched with exhaustion. It seemed to her that things must be worse than her naneth was saying since even the High Lords of Gondor looked visibly marked from the war. They gave a short bow as her family entered, each one smiling at her naneth and making note of how Lothíriel and her brothers had grown since the last time they had seen them.
"Princess Aeardîs, I welcome you and your children to Minas Tirith."
Naneth curtsied delicately before moving to stand beside her husband. Lothíriel and her brothers remained standing in a line in front of the desk beside their parents.
"Thank you, Lord Denethor. I-"
Her uncle scowled at her naneth and waved his hand to interrupt her reply.
"No need to waste the day with formalities - we have no other court ladies here to impress. Now, let us get to the heart of the matter."
Shuffling a few papers, he brought out a large stack of formal documents.
"Unfortunately, my son was unable to come and stand as a witness, as he is off defending our city from those blasted orcs, but I have his signature on the document regardless. Imrahil, you will need to…"
Lothíriel felt herself drift off into her own thoughts as her uncle's voice droned on, even if it was occasionally interrupted by her parents and the other Lords. From the corner of her eye, she could see Amrothos fidgeting and be lightly nudged by Erchirion to stay still. Elphir, of course, was standing with his back straight and seemed to be following the procession of papers and speeches keenly, yet Lothíriel felt a pang of concern at the slight pale pallor of his face.
'So much has changed since Grandfather died…Adar being busier and sadder, naneth trying to fill in the gaps adar left behind while still managing the courts and courtiers, Elphir having more responsibilities and Erchirion taking over some of Elphir's old duties. Only Amrothos and I have managed to escape any pressing changes.' Repressing a sigh, Lothíriel subtly played with a piece from her dress.
If she was being completely honest with herself, Lothíriel knew she wasn't upset for the right reasons, regarding her grandfather's death. She had hardly ever seen him and had rarely spoken with him when in his presence. The former Prince had been too busy with her parents and Elphir to take much notice of herself and Erchirion. They had been more strangers than family, with the only exception being Amrothos, who had been Prince Adrahil's unofficial favourite grandchild.
'I wish grandfather hadn't died, then we wouldn't be here, and my brothers wouldn't be in danger of getting sick and my parents wouldn't be so stressed.' Lothíriel could not suppress the guilt she felt at thinking those damning thoughts.
Subtly glancing around the room once more, Lothíriel's interest was caught by a half-hidden painting in the corner. A victorious battlefield at twilight was depicted, with the soldiers leaving the scene; some were drinking, others gathering supplies and a small group were gathering the bodies of the dead. Among the men gathering the bodies, a maiden fair sat by a discarded shield and sword, she was catching her tears with cupped hands as her eyes pierced the viewer with unspoken grief. Nienna, The Valar of Mercy and Mourning.
'The Valar most invoked during wartime by widows and orphans...no wonder it's half hidden away.' Lothíriel turned her gaze back to her uncle, trying to understand why a man such as himself would have that painting in his office.
Her uncle's hair was impeccable, combed back and flattering his ageing face. His skin was a bit wan and marked with stress, but he still had a presence of strength. His clothes were suitable for his station, if not quite fashionable and some pieces were dyed in the traditional colours of mourning, an obvious sign that her uncle still longed for her aunt.
'Mayhap it's not strange at all to see that painting in this office, even if it is half hidden away in a corner of the room.' For a moment, Lothíriel felt she understood the Steward a little bit better than she did before, and was strangely happy to glimpse at a sign, that under all that intense determination and cunning was a man she could come to see as an uncle.
"-it's done. Congratulations, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."
Snapping back to attention at those words, Lothíriel watched in puzzlement as her uncle brought out a large map of Gondor. The other Lords gave a few quick words of congratulations before leaning in closer to look over the map. They each began to place small tokens on the map and quietly discussed where shipments of men and cargo were needed.
"You're right, Lord Ohtar, the left flank is looking weak. Imrahil, now that you are Prince of Dol Amroth, we can talk more about your Swan Knights and the tactical positions you should be moving them into. My son needs support from all of Gondor's subjects -"
"Wait, that's it?" Amrothos grumbled, a little too loudly and catching the attention of the Lords in the room. Her uncle grew colder and harder as he stared piercingly at her brother.
Lothíriel suddenly recalled something she had been told by her governess; that her impulsive ways could rival Amrothos at his most foolhardy. However, at that moment, she felt with great certainty that there was nothing she could ever do that would top getting the Steward of Gondor so furious.
Her adar straightened slightly at the change in the mood of the room, quickly angling his body to look over at her brother. The other Lords in the room exchanged slightly disapproving glances as the silence deepened.
"Amrothos." Her adar quietly muttered, missing the worried look her naneth had given him.
"What, exactly, did you think would happen, boy? That we would host the traditional large feast to celebrate the new Prince, using up precious resources that this city cannot afford to waste?"
She couldn't stop her flinch as the Steward stood up and made his way around the table, each step echoing in the cold hall.
"That we would gorge ourselves on food and drink when my subjects ration their food daily just so our soldiers won't starve in the battlegrounds? And for what? Your family's vanity?"
Lothíriel slowly inched behind Amrothos, trying to make herself as small as possible as her uncle's voice grew colder and harsher.
"I-I just meant… I'm sorry sir, I didn't think to-"
Lord Denethor loomed over Amrothos, forcing himself into her brother's space and causing him to step back and nearly trip over Lothíriel.
"Clearly. If you had bothered to think you would have known better than to spew such senseless nonsense."
Amrothos' face grew paler at his words, flinching in shame as the Lords around him looked apathetic to his situation. Lothíriel winced as her naneth stepped forward, giving a low curtsy to the Steward before stepping to stand next to Amrothos.
"Good brother, he's just a boy and did not mean to-"
The Steward turned his ferocious look towards her, sneering at her naneth's attempt to pacify him.
"When Boromir was his age, he knew better than to make such thoughtless remarks. In fact, my son was already a gifted leader, blooded in battle and hailed as a bringer of strategic victories against those Valar-cursed Orcs." He shifted his glare back towards Amrothos as he continued to sing the praises of Gondor's golden son.
"He was respectful and knowledgeable about the financial state of our city and knew better than to waste precious food and drink on family vanity." Though her Lord Uncle was replying to her naneth, Lothíriel cringed at how he continued to press forward into Amrothos space and practically spat his words in his face.
The other High Lords murmured their agreement to the Steward's remarks. While Lothíriel didn't agree with how he was making her brother seem insignificant in comparison, she did agree that her cousin was a man like no other.
"Speaking of value in the war effort, what is your particular gift, nephew? Have you been blessed with something to aid Gondor in her battles and make up for your lack in tact? Or have you proven to be as equally disappointing in your gift as you have proven to be in thinking?"
The High Lords quickly began to use her uncle's words as a long-awaited opening to raise their interest in knowing all the children's gifts. Her adar gripped his hands tightly behind his back at the spectacle that this whole situation was turning out to be, as naneth reached out and pulled Lothíriel closer to herself.
Moments like these always made Lothíriel feel uncomfortable; she hated the way the people, whether they be noble or not, always reacted to her family's gifts. With gazes of fear or awe, they grew to only view her family as extensions of their gifts and forgot everything else about them. Her adar stepped forward and offered to present all their gifts, from his own to Lothíriel's.
Her adar's offer was approved, and after a few moments to call upon a scribe for an official recording of their gifts, along with a few refreshments for the Lords and Steward, they were ready to begin.
"As you well know, Lord Denethor, my gift is the ability to being able to predict where the next blow will strike in battle."
Lothíriel just managed to see a faint twitch of the Stewards lips and a slight softening in his cold, dark eyes.
'It's little things like these that make me wish my aunt were still here. What kind of man would the Steward be, I wonder if she were still by his side?'
Lothíriel could not deny that for all that her uncle appeared stoic and cold to the public, he certainly respected and seemed to soften around her adar.
"A most valuable gift that has served Gondor and her armies well. Your gift has made the Swan Knights the most skilled cavalry in Gondor's armies, and I hope to see more successful campaigns in the future."
"It has been my honour, Lord Denethor."
Bowing slightly at the praise, her adar gave a little gesture, prompting her eldest brother to walk closer to present his gift. He gave a quick bow and kept silent as his gift was explained.
"My eldest, Elphir, has been blessed with a sea-touched gift, it -"
A thin looking lord, with a long face and a strange look in his eye, quickly interrupted her adar, asking for clarification on the term he used.
"Forgive me, Prince Imrahil, but what is a sea-touched gift?"
"Excellent question Lord Hiwdir, it means that his gift is tied to the sea and thus is stronger the closer he is to it. My son has the gift of being able to predict the weather accurately. His range is currently two weeks of accurate weather, though we have noted that he is able to see further in the future, the closer he is to the sea."
Lord Denethor had looked pensive during this exchange, but Lothíriel noted that he had gotten an almost concerned look at hearing adar's explanation.
"Sea-touched… He is like my wife then?"
A heavy pause filled the room, as everyone took a moment to remember her late Aunt Finduilas. Her adar seemed to age a bit, as he shared a look of grief with her naneth, before answering the Steward.
"Yes, my lord. Both Elphir and Amrothos have sea-touched gifts like my late sister did."
"... I see, proceed."
Lothíriel shifted away from her naneth, trying to subtly study the lord's faces when they learn the next part of her brother's gift.
"Much like my own did, Elphir's gift has begun to show signs of maturing. Our family has perfected over the generations different training regimes about nurturing our abilities to the fullest. We believe that one-day Elphir will be able to tell where the enemy is positioned on water."
The High Lords looked amazed at such a skill and quickly began to praise her brother's gift, each one making a different remark on its usefulness and how their armies would benefit of having Elphir train with them.
"My cavalry, which is currently stationed in Osgiliath, would benefit from having prince Elphir join them for a few days-"
"Surely you jest Lord Hiwdir! My men are currently a part of Lord Boromir's campaign and thus would benefit the most from such a skill!"
Lothíriel struggled not to show any outward signs of disgust as the High Lords began to squabble over which campaign or stationed army would most benefit from her brother's gift.
'I knew it. This always happens, every single time! In their greed to possess my brother's gift for their armies, these lords have probably forgotten that Elphir, as heir, has to be mostly trained by the Swan Knights.'
The Steward loudly cleared his throat before addressing the argument at hand, "We will discuss placing the princes of Dol Amroth in different campaigns at a later date."
Once the lords had quietened down, he turned to give an almost smile to Elphir.
"I congratulate you nephew, such a skill will be valuable for Gondor, especially with any sea-based attack. Make sure to leave at least a page of your predictions, before your departure to Dol Amroth."
"Yes, my Lord." Stepping aside, Lothíriel watched Elphir glance at a window in longing as he made room for her second eldest brother. Erchirion also gave a short bow, as her adar presented his gift.
"My second eldest, Erchirion, has a gift more like my own; he is able to predict where the next attack by an army or group of warriors will be, unlike my own which is regarding individual attacks. However, it currently drains him to use his gift more than three times in a long campaign."
Once more, the High Lords began to remark on the usefulness of such a skill, looking at her brothers with excitement that frightened her. As the second son, it would be easier for these High Lords to maneuver their daughters for a potential alliance, as Erchirion would have more freedoms in making his choice for a bride, than Elphir.
Her uncle again seemed to soften for a second, before he complimented Erchirion on his gift,
"Your father made a name for himself as a skilled leader with his gift. Considering yours is so like his, the expectations on you will be heavy, however, I know that as my nephew, you will be able to rise to the occasion."
Erchirion bowed before moving to make room for Amrothos turn. Lothíriel inched closer to Amrothos, noting that her brother's hands were balled up in tight fists to hide the slight tremor in them.
'Is he nervous? Or is that a symptom of his sea-longing?'
Her other sea-touched brother, Elphir, wasn't fairing much better either. Elphir's eyes were completely focused on the window behind their uncle's chair, his dark grey eyes lightening into a silver colour with every second. Her naneth had also noticed his enthrallment and managed to gently pull him back from his gift with a light touch to his hands.
'Please let Amrothos presentation be quick, I just want to go back to our rooms and stay away from these lords.' Lothíriel prayed that one of the Valar would heed her plea.
Lord Denethor's stare grew colder as he looked down upon at her youngest brother. Bowing to their Steward, her adar presented his youngest son's gift.
"My youngest son, Amrothos, has the sea-touched gift of being able to sense and track any sea-based animal. His gift has aided the people of Dol Amroth, stopping them from wasting resources in searching for fish and ensuring that we and the nearby towns do not run out of shipments of seafood for themselves and the soldiers stationed there."
Unlike the previous times, her adar made sure to emphasize the value of her brother's gift. Lothíriel could not help but admire how he ensured that Lord Denethor could not shame her brother on his gift, as her cousin Boromir and his men, had occasionally rested in those towns, and had sent reports praising the hospitality they had enjoyed while stationed there.
"...A useful skill, to be sure. Has it too, showing signs of developing, like his other brothers?"
"Yes, we believe with enough practice, one-day Amrothos will be able to assist in harvesting the precious pearls from our sea by being able to point out which oysters have a pearl, and which do not."
"Hmm."
In contrast to the Steward's neutral reaction, Lord Ohtar, Lord Hiwdir and the other lords broke into praises and began to ask her adar further questions on the fine details of her brother's gift.
Keeping quiet, her adar patiently waited for a moment of silence before presenting Lothíriel and her gift to the High Lords.
"And finally, but certainly not least, my only daughter, Lothíriel. She has a special gift which allows her to see the lineage of any person that should cross her sight."
Lord Denethor snorted lightly at her gift, while the other High Lord's chuckled condescendingly.
"Following in your Lady Aunt's footsteps I see? Perhaps Lady Ivriniel's workload as the matchmaker of Minas Tirith will be eased with such a gift."
Lothíriel hid a flinch as the Steward looked down his nose at her. His mocking tone making clear what he thought about the value her gift could provide for Gondor.
"Truly an excellent gift for a future Lady of the Court!"
Lord Ohtar's booming voice echoed as he stepped towards her; the other Lord's behind him either gave her a polite pitying look or made snide remarks under their breaths.
"Your family is most gifted, Prince Imrahil, but now that the presentations are over, perhaps they will be more comfortable if the boys join the soldiers in the training grounds and the women join my wife and daughters in the solar where they can pursue… womanly matters."
Lothíriel narrowed her eyes as the other lords began to murmur their agreement to such a plan. She clenched her jaw at their unflattering remarks on the weakness of women and their place in the world. The way these Lords talked about her naneth with such flippancy, as if she were irrelevant, just set her temper a flame.
"Such frail ladies shouldn't be exposed to such trying matters as war! Besides I'm certain much of this conversation would be beyond them to comprehend."
'Lord Ohtar oversteps himself,' she internally sneered, 'His condescending manner is insulting to my naneth. How dare he treat her as if she weren't one of the most powerful women in Dol Amroth and the whole of Gondor itself!'
Before her marriage, naneth had been part of a convoy which had been attacked by corsairs. It had taken the combined wits of herself, the second mate and the wounded cabin boy to save themselves from dying at the hands of those scoundrels. Her naneth was more than tough enough to handle their boring war talk.
'And I am strong enough as well! I come from a line of warriors and their courage flows through my blood. I am my adar's daughter just as much as I am my naneth's daughter.' Lothíriel fumed, keeping her stance straight and her chin held high. She wouldn't let herself shrink before these High Lords.
Lord Ohtar's eyes flashed as he looked at her naneth, darkening with that elusive emotion, Lothíriel still didn't fully understand; desire.
'How dare he look at naneth like that!'
In her rage, Lothíriel gave into impulse and closed her eyes before flaring them open. Using her gift, she gazed through Lord Ohtar and into his lineage.
Noblemen and women flashed before her eyes, bringing a piercing pain to her head. Trying to focus on the images, Lothíriel narrowed her gaze on to his immediate family.
Lord Ohtar - a descendant of an old bloodline - married to a gentlewoman - strong lineage - three older daughters - two married with children, one still unattached - all three were neglected by him, he has two sons - one married with a child on the way, one unattached - ... No, wait… there was one more child.
Feeling the pain build up, Lothíriel pushed a little more, as she bit her lip in concentration.
Another child not born to his wife, younger than his daughters and oldest son, but older than his second legitimate son. His mother was not a noble- coming instead from a line of hard-working weavers - she was dead, illness took her when her child was young- he has his mother's colouring but looks like the spitting image of his father.
"Your sons are of course, welcome to test their mettle against my boys, who as you know, are two of the finest-"
"Three."
A confused look passed Lord Ohtar's face as he looked down upon her. Her adar tensed up slightly as her naneth reached out and gently pressed her hand against her shoulder, silently reminding her to keep her tongue in check.
Unfortunately for all involved, Lothíriel had reached the limit of her patience and couldn't help herself from correcting him even further.
"You have three sons, my Lord. Two of which are fine captains and another who is steadily rising in the ranks. He favours you greatly through his colouring comes from his mother; truly his hair is the prettiest chestnut shade I've ever seen."
Everyone knew that his wife had the darkest colour of black among the ladies of Minas Tirith. She had been renowned for her beautiful hair colour when she was a young maiden and was still considered a great beauty, even in her twilight years. Lord Ohtar himself, on the other hand, had the standard Númenórean looks - thinning black hair and dark grey eyes. The swift realization of what she was implying passed over his face as the other Lords starred in horror at such remarks coming from her mouth. Lord Ohtar sputtered uselessly as he quickly grew red in the face, though whether it was from embarrassment or rage, Lothíriel couldn't tell.
Her Lord Uncle smirked from his chair, before standing to gain the attention of the room again.
"Perhaps your gift will keep more of my nobles occupied then I first thought, niece. However, Lord Ohtar is correct and we have a war to discuss. Lady Aeardîs, you and your children are dismissed. Prince Imrahil, I need to know -"
Naneth lightly pulled Lothíriel away, making sure to keep her body in between her children and the red-faced High Lord. She herded her children out the doors and down the corridors until they reached her personal chambers. Lothíriel had never seen her naneth so upset as she scolded her and Amrothos for their tactless words and biting comments.
Lothíriel didn't regret her actions, even if she was being banned from riding her pony for the next few days.
A welcome side effect to her little outburst was that Lord Ohtar had since decided to avoid Lothíriel for the rest of her stay in Minas Tirith, along with many other Lords who were rumoured to be… robust in their love of female company. Many men did not wish to know if they had any bastards running around the city.
In contrast to such avoidance from the menfolk, many Ladies of the Court invited her and her naneth to have tea with them. They appeared to wish for her advice in matchmaking for their children while subtly asking if any indiscretion of their husbands threatened the family honour and their social reputation.
Lothíriel soon learned that after she had stained the honour of Lord Ohtar with her remark of his bastard son, a pub brawl had broken out in the lower city. A soldier was badly wounded trying to keep the peace and was unable to join her cousin Boromir's personal guard.
Through overhearing the gossiping maids, Lothíriel found out that the soldier wounded was the one she had claimed to be Lord Ohtar's bastard. Her horror at what her words had done silenced Lothíriel better than any scolding. She quickly began to misdirect and sidestep any attempts on her announcing more bastard children, with her naneth's help. The idea of innocent men, women and children being harmed by their lordly fathers, or the jealous ladies married to said lords, all due to a past indiscretion being revealed by Lothíriel, was more than she could bear.
Using whatever influence her family had in Minas Tirith, Lothíriel ensured, at the very least, that the injured soldier would receive some care. Lothíriel was determined to make sure that his time as a soldier wouldn't end due to the selfish actions of a lord or lady's jealousy and shame.
Her continued reluctance to reveal more illegitimate children only set more lords and ladies of the court further on edge, each dreading the thought of family indiscretions being aired to their political rivals; while others grew more excited at the chance of another scandal and rival nobles falling from grace. Their imaginings of who wasn't truly so-and-so's child or that their lineage wasn't as pure as they claimed, kept the busybodies ravenous for any morsel of gossip that Lothíriel could prove true. Almost all could agree though, that a gift like hers could give the Court a much-needed distraction from the reality of the looming war.
Glossary:
Arda – The World
Dol Amroth - Capital of the province of Belfalas in Gondor, a combination of Dol "head, hill" and the name Amroth, hence: "*Hill of Amroth".
Gondor - The name Gondor was likely adopted from the lesser people's terminology and translates from Sindarin as "Stone-land", from the words gond, "stone", and (n)dor, "land". Gondor received its name because of the abundance of stone in the Ered Nimrais, and the usage of it in great stone cities, statues, and monuments, such as Minas Tirith and the Argonath.
Minas Tirith - 'Tower of Watch', the great 'home' of Finrod, a fort built on an island in Sirion and intended to command access into Beleriand from the North
Adar - Father
Naneth – Mother
Valar – The Valar are a group of immensely powerful spirits guarding the world on behalf of its Creator; they are sometimes called Gods (as when Valacirca, q.v., is translated "Sickle of the Gods"), but this is strictly wrong according to Christian terminology: the Valar were created beings.
gifts – refers to the powers/abilities manifested from the blood of an elvish/human union
Sea-touched gift – refers to abilities tied to the sea/water
Sea-longing – Symptoms that arise when a bearer of a sea-touched gift is away from the sea for too long.
High Lords of Gondor – Prominent noblemen with the most influence and wealth in all of Gondor.
Ladies of the Court – Noblewomen with influential families, great wealth and status who influence fashion, politics and marriages
Authors Note: So this is a new fic that I've been working on for a few months now. I can't promise any quick updates but there will be three parts to this story. This is gonna be a mixture of the movies and the books in regards to events and how they unfolded. I consider myself a novice in the LOTR fandom, so I apologize if I butcher any elvish words and names.
Thank you to Roobi and a few other amazing people who looked over this fic for me, they really helped improve my grammar and writing style. I hope you all enjoyed chapter one!
COMMENTS/QUESTIONS/INQUIRIES ARE WELCOME IN THE REVIEWS.