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Ages in this chapter are the following :

Ivriniel - 63

Imrahil - 55

Aeardîs - 45

Elphir - 23

Erchirion - 20

Amrothos - 16

Lothíriel - 11

Chapter 2: T. A 3010

A week had passed since they returned to Dol Amroth, and yet what had happened with the illegitimate wounded soldier- 'Damrod, his name is Damrod' she reminded herself- continued to haunt her. Sighing in frustration at her lack of focus, Lothíriel completed the corner stitches and finished her embroidering of a swan in flight.

"It is to be expected, Thíri," Erchirion said comfortingly. He was the quietest of her brothers, but that just meant that when he did speak, everyone stopped to listen.

Lothíriel slowly placed her embroidery down as she turned to glance at him. He was sitting nearby, with a book dangling loosely from his hands.

"You have the power to undo reputations and lineages with a few short words." Erchirion moved to sit next to her and playfully tugged on one of Lothíriel's loose curls, sticking out once again from her braided hair.

"Your gift might not be as useful during wartime, but like Aunt Ivriniel, you will hold much power during peacetime."

Leaning into his hand, Lothíriel smiled gratefully as her brother gently caressed her hair.

"You have a gentle heart sister; many of adar's men have begun to whisper of your kindness towards Damrod of Minas Tirith."

Erchirion smiled fondly as she grimaced in unease, before giving her forehead a kiss in comfort.

"I know you feel like it was your fault he was hurt, and I am not saying you did not have a hand in his injury. However, you showed your mettle and took responsibility for your carelessly spoken words."

Embarrassed and ashamed in equal measure of the damage she had caused the young soldier, Lothíriel felt a strong urge to explain her actions. In her mind, she had done nothing to deserve praise.

"Chiron, ensuring that the man got a good healer to aid his recovery and seeing that he received wages for the days he would not be able to work was the very least I could do!"

Cuddling her close, Lothíriel could not help but pout as her brother chuckled at her words. She didn't think she had said anything worth laughing about.

"Erchirion is right, Thíri." Her youngest brother munched on a bright red apple as he grinned at her from his spot on the windowsill. He had been drained of energy during the last few days in Minas Tirith, haunting the city walls as he gazed out towards the direction of the sea when he wasn't working his body to the bone in the training fields. It was good to see his health much improved now that he was back home.

"You helped a man out when you could have washed your hands of the whole affair. No need to pout, Thíri, you should smile and laugh instead."

Amrothos grin grew as she glanced at him from Erchirion's arms.

"You, my sweet sister, haven't even seen your twelfth summer, yet you are the scariest thing those Lords and Ladies have ever seen grace their halls. You shouldn't hide your gift but embrace and flaunt it instead. You've been blessed with power, if others are so stupid as to be intimidated by a mere slip of a girl, then that's their problem, not yours."

Scowling at his laughing face, Lothíriel stepped out of Erchirion's embrace and went back to her embroidery. Though annoyed at his words, a part of her couldn't help feeling hurt.

"Enough. Amrothos you should learn to curb your tongue. Maybe you wouldn't get into so much trouble if you learned to choose your words more wisely." Elphir snapped, frowning as he strolled into the room; his gaze focused on the window.

His eyes nearly glowed in the light, revealing that they had changed to a pure silver colour. Lothíriel wondered if her eyes looked just as eerie when she gazed into people, as she had been told that everyone's eyes in her family turned silver when using their gift.

Reaching Amrothos, he quickly dragged him off the windowsill and shut it with a snap.

"Hey! Elphir!"

Lothíriel couldn't help but smile as Elphir smacked the back of Amrothos head. His eyes were back to their familiar dark grey.

"You are supposed to be more mature than this. Act your age."

Ignoring Amrothos' mocking expression, Elphir turned to address herself and Erchirion.

"A storm is coming, a big one. Erchirion, notify the servants to latch all the windows and lock all the doors. The winds will be extra harsh, and much will be lost if not secured properly. I'll go and warn naneth and adar. Once you are done take Amrothos with you and warn the sailors and Swan Knights."

Erchirion sprang into action and dragged Amrothos with him as her three brothers left the room. Amrothos couldn't help but tease her one last time, reminding her to go stay in her room like a proper little princess.

Scowling at his retreating back, Lothíriel picked up her finished embroidery and laid it on a nearby table with a quick note to her naneth, saying she was visiting Aunt Ivriniel.

Luckily her aunt didn't live too far away from the castle, just a few minutes away by horse. Aunt Ivriniel had never been one to intrude in her brother's home, preferring to manage her own the minute she was old enough, although she never married.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lothíriel looked around to ensure no well-meaning servant or visiting Lady was around. The last thing she wanted was to have a nursemaid following her about to her aunt's house.

Seeing the hallway abandoned, she quickly made her way to the door, out to the front courtyard and down the street.

To think that there was a time where Lothíriel had been intimidated by her aunt, and now here she was, willingly making her way to her home. Watching the leaves rain down from the trees, Lothíriel was reminded of the day she got her gift and stopped fearing her aunt.

"When will I get my gift?"

Warm hands had ruffled her hair as she looked beseechingly at her adar.

"Soon, my flower; you just have to be patient."

Lothíriel had pouted in frustration at that remark. Her childish self was too jealous of her brothers, already playing and developing their gifts.

"But Amrothos already has his gift!"

Gentle chuckles filled the room as her parents looked fondly at her small form.

"Thíri, you are but four summers, and Amrothos is nine summers. Of course, he already has his gift. Don't worry, one day when you are a little older, you'll have your own special gift. You just have to listen to your adar and be patient."

Lothíriel had stomped her foot in frustration at hearing her naneth's words, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"It's not fair, naneth! I don't want to wait for my gift, I want it right now."

Soft hands had caressed her hair as the smell of jasmine filled her nose. Her naneth's hugs were always soothing for Lothíriel, a weakness she shared with Elphir.

"You shouldn't rush to grow up and get your gift, my love. Enjoy being free from its burden, for like the circlets your father and I wear, it is deceptive in its weight and responsibility."

Lothíriel had not understood her naneth's words that day and instead had pouted fiercely at her parents. She had felt upset at the injustice of the world and had snuck out without telling anyone, into the courtyard to play.

The flowers had blossomed that week, the wind ripping them from the branches and making them rain down like snow.

Lothíriel had reluctantly smiled at the sight, before closing her eyes and twirling about the falling petals. Twirling faster and faster, she had beamed at the sensation before falling onto the ground in a burst of giggles. Feeling daring, she had made her way onto one of the stone benches and began to jump and dance about on top of it.

A worried shout had startled her from her merriment as the sound of running leather boots had grown louder. Lothíriel had glanced around, her eyes trying to find who had been calling out. In the distance she could see a servant boy, no older than Erchirion, running straight towards her in concern.

Lothíriel remembered starting to twirl about again absent-mindedly, no longer concerned about why the servant boy was shouting. It had been her third spin when suddenly her heart began to throb painfully, and her heartbeat began to echo loudly in her ears. Her entire body seemed to abruptly fill with energy unlike any she had ever felt before, scaring her into taking a step backwards, towards the edge of the stone bench. Unfortunately, the petals had made everything slippery, causing her to fall off the edge and hit her head on the cobbled floor.

Darkness with bursts of lights flashed before her eyes, along with visions of different men and women with the same features as the panicking servant boy above her. The seemingly never-ending images of people sickened Lothíriel something fierce, causing her lunch to make an unpleasant reappearance, as she had rolled to her side.

Moisture had dripped from her nose and her eyes had watered in pain. Just as she had thought this nightmare would never end, she suddenly fell into deep darkness.

Time had become nonexistent for her as she floated in that endless dark void. Lothíriel would be later told that she had slept for three days before awakening to the sound of prayers being muttered by her naneth and aunt.

Disastrously, the moment Lothíriel had opened her eyes, she had begun to scream and writhe in agony as her naneth's lineage was revealed before her. Grandparents she had never met, cousins who were long dead or out of reach, siblings alive but unhappy with her marriage and countless others. Face upon face appeared before her eyes until finally, the images stopped. Her naneth and aunt had ended up tying Lothíriel's hands to her bedpost, for in her panic she had attempted to claw her own eyes out.

It would take her many months of meditation and limited exposure to other people before Lothíriel gained some measure of control over her gift. Aunt Ivriniel had become her rock during that trying period, for she had revealed that when she was a young girl, she too had a similar reaction when her own gift was activated. The one main but crucial difference, however, was that she had not hurt her head right after gaining her gift, and thus her reaction had been far milder than Lothíriel's.

"I hate this! I don't want my gift anymore!" Lothíriel had sobbed into her pillow, frustrated with having to stay locked up in her room with only her aunt for company. She wanted to go outside and play with her brothers, ride her pony with her adar and sing to her family with her naneth.

Worn tough hands had rubbed her back as the smell of fish stew had filled the room.

"There, there, child. The Valar only give us obstacles they know we can overcome. Now eat up, the cook made you some stew in hopes that you might feel better."

"But I hate my gift, aunt! It's useless and it hurts. What's so special about seeing family members and knowing whose alive?"

Lothíriel's outrage had sparked such amusement from her aunt that it had only made Lothíriel more obstinate in not eating her stew.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a purpose for your gift in due time. I know when I was a little girl, I too had a hard time figuring out what to do with my gift."

Lothíriel had pouted before she threw her aunt a skeptical look at such a blatant lie.

"You? But you're the most important Lady in Arda! You bring people together and have them fall in love!"

Aunt Ivriniel had taken Lothíriel's left hand and gently rubbed it before massaging each finger carefully.

"You may think it is obvious now, but when I was a little girl, I wasn't sure what I could do with the gift to see strings of colour connecting people from their hands. Trying to untangle those strings so I could see them better made my head hurt, especially when there were a lot of people nearby..."

Lothíriel noticed that her aunt had stopped talking to take a closer look at her hand, specifically her little finger. Puzzled at the odd action, Lothíriel watched as her aunt seemed to track an invisible string towards the window.

Trying to get her aunt's attention, Lothíriel remembered how her naneth would prompt her brothers during dinner, to get them to talk about their day.

"They're strings that connect people to their special someone, right?"

"Well actually -"

"Lothíriel? What on earth are you doing outside in this weather?"

Snapping out from her memories of the past, Lothíriel quickly turned to see her Aunt Ivriniel addressing her from the doorway. Her silver streaked hair was pulled back into a tight bun, covered by her dark blue shawl which swayed in the wind. It was a lovely contrast to the matronly dark gray dress covered with a silk sleeveless surcoat embroidered with pearls and swans.

'I wonder why Aunt Ivriniel never married? She's still a beautiful looking woman, even if she is much older than adar.'

"Come in quickly! You'll catch your death standing out there!"

Lothíriel soon found herself sitting beside a warm fire as her aunt served some fragrant herbal tea.

"Drink this, it'll warm you right up. Now if you'll excuse me for a moment sweetling, I have a few things to do before we can talk."

Sipping delicately, Lothíriel watched her Aunt Ivriniel write a quick note for her parents, as she waited for a servant to deliver it. After it was taken away, Lothíriel set aside her teacup to follow her aunt admiringly as she began walking from room to room, deciding on the final touches of that evening's dinner menu, directing a host of maids to prepare the guest bedroom for Lothíriel while reminding the servants to double check for any windows not barred against the oncoming storm. Finishing with her duties, her aunt steered them back into her personal sitting room, with a fresh batch of tea waiting for them.

"I sent a note to your parents, letting them know that you'll be staying with me until the storm passes. Prepare yourself for extra mothering on your return, from your mother. You know how she misses you when you're away from her."

Smiling gratefully, Lothíriel waited patiently for her aunt to finish drinking another sip from her perfectly steeped tea.

"As much as I love your visits, dear niece, you rarely visit me simply because you miss me."

Hesitating to speak her thoughts on Damrod of Minas Tirith, the guilt she still bore over the whole matter holding her back, she instead decided to touch on another topic on her mind lately.

"Well, as you know I went to Minas Tirith and presented my gift to Lord Denethor..."

"Yes, I had heard you had caused a bit of a stir among the Court." Aunt Ivriniel wryly smiled over her teacup, as Lothíriel blushed in embarrassment.

"Ahem...Yes, well, I found myself being told by both the Steward and the Ladies of Court that my gift could make me like you Aunt Ivriniel."

"You've known for years that certain people of nobility would want you to help broker alliances and engagements. Is there a point to this conversation?"

Staring at the empty cup before her, Lothíriel sighed softly in confusion.

"... I don't know if I want to be the next Matchmaker of Gondor."

"Then don't be."

Starting up in surprise, Lothíriel could only stare, as her aunt laughed lightly at her expression.

"No need to make such a face! Knowing my good brother, he probably just mentioned it in a mocking tone. Hardly a command for you to follow in my footsteps."

Lothíriel continued to gape unbecomingly as her aunt turned her gaze towards Lothíriel's hands, her light grey eyes turning nearly white with power.

"No... I don't believe you will ever share my fate."

Not wanting to disturb her, Lothíriel tried to hold in all the questions and thoughts that had sprung to mind at hearing her words.

'What do you see? Do I have a special someone? Am I destined to remain in Dol Amroth or do my strings tie me to Minas Tirith?' It felt like eons to Lothíriel before her aunt's eyes turned back into their familiar light grey colour.

"I can see you straining yourself to stay quiet, my child. Speak. I will answer what I am able."

Trying to choose her words carefully, Lothíriel prayed that her aunt would be in an informative mood. Her gift to see strings and who they tied together could cause much trouble if talked about carelessly. Unfortunately, it seemed Lothíriel's own gift was similar in that regard.

"Tell me...do my strings tie me to a special someone? Or am I to be alone?" Lothíriel bit back the 'Like you.' part of the question. No need to stir up more trouble than necessary if she wanted answers.

While slightly childish to voice, a part of Lothíriel couldn't help but long to be blessed with the same happiness as her naneth and adar. They had initially been formally introduced in the Court of Dol Amroth, but it had been her aunt that had pushed them into a match. It was her word that had made her grandfather choose Lady Aeardîs, instead of another equally wealthy and noble Lady of Minas Tirith, to be the Heir of Dol Amroth's bride.

Ever since that fateful day, her aunt had become known as the most skilled Matchmaker in all of Gondor. Any Lord or Lady she made matches for, ended up being very compatible, if not in love, then happy with each other. With her gifts and judgement, there had been a decrease in scandals concerning infidelities and bastard children in Dol Amroth among the younger couples. The older couples, her aunt had told her naneth, were too set in their ways to be changed so easily. She hoped that with the positive example of the younger nobility, they would learn to adapt and keep their shameful vices to a minimum.

Snapping back to the present, Lothíriel fidgeted slightly as the silence between them grew.

'Did I ask the wrong thing…?'

"...That is a bit complicated to answer. The easy answer would be 'no'. While I see strings tying you to many people, some you know and love, and others you have yet to meet, I don't see you in love with anyone right now." Her aunt glanced out the shut window before refocusing on Lothíriel.

"...That's the easy answer, so does that mean there is more to it than just that?" Huffing softly at the sight of her aunt smiling cloyingly, Lothíriel tried changing tactics. "You once told me that each string is a different colour, which has different meanings."

It had been when she had been confined to her rooms, still struggling to control her abilities and begging for anything to distract her from her dark moods. Using her embroidery threads, her aunt had explained how through the mastery of her gift she had learned what meanings were tied to the colours.

'Green for friendship, blue for family, yellow for admiration, purple for loyalty, red for love, orange for compatibility, brown for enemies, white for destined, grey for waning relationships and black for broken bonds.' Lothíriel thought.

"You remember well, my child." Reaching over the small tea table, Aunt Ivriniel clasped her hands into a firm grip, "I see the blue strings that tie you to our family and the green strings that scatter throughout Dol Amroth."

Lothíriel couldn't help but feel disappointed that only family and friendships strings were tied to her. A small part couldn't help but hope that maybe she had something more to look forward to.

"Is that all you see?"

"...No."

Heart fluttering at the low reply, she looked up to see her aunt staring at her with a serious look on her face.

"You have two white strings tying you to a distant land … away from Gondor."

A hush fell upon them as they both contemplated what it meant that the Princess of Dol Amroth would be destined to meet people, not from Gondor.

'Maybe they'll be foreign princesses who will be married into my family? Or a prince with lots of wealth to help fight in the war?' Remembering her naneth's story, Lothíriel silently admitted to herself the third and most likely possibility, '...Or a lord who would make a suitable husband.'

"What does that mean Aunt?"

"It means that you are destined to meet two people." Aunt Ivriniel said matter-of-factly.

A flash of annoyance flickered through Lothíriel before she could wrangle it back under control. A small huff of amusement broke her concentration as Aunt Ivriniel squeezed her hand one last time before letting go.

"Don't look so upset child. Remember that the colours can and will change as you go through life. Friendships can bloom into compatibility, or admiration can grow into love. Being destined to meet doesn't mean you will be friends with them or love them. For all, you know they could be your worst enemies."

Lothíriel delicately took a biscuit and chewed in thought at all the possibilities these two strings could mean for her.

"I know many talk about 'true love' and 'destined soulmates', but in my experience, one can start with friendship and end up with true love over time. All my reading and predictions can be for naught if you don't put in the effort to work on the relationships."

Her aunt's slight huff of frustration broke her musings, bringing her attention back to the present.

"It's one of the reasons I can't claim to be able to guarantee happiness in the relationships I broker. If they're not willing to work on the relationship, then no matter how favourable or compatible they are, it will all end up with gray and black strings."

Grey eyes met silver, as her aunt used her gift to look at Lothíriel, the air between them thickening.

"Promise me, Lothíriel, that no matter what, you will work on the relationships you have. Don't be idle and take comfort in my words but instead use them to improve the foundations you have built. Don't make the mistake others have and assume they'll take care of themselves."

"I-I promise."

Shaken slightly be the encounter, Lothíriel took a calming sip from her lukewarm tea.

'Aunt's right, I should try and work on what I have right now instead of dreaming on some possible meeting in the future.'

"Now that we are on the topic of marriages and relationships, I feel it is my duty to tell you personally... I have just finished brokering an arranged marriage for your brother, Elphir. They will be having a short six-month engagement so that they'll be able to get married on midwinter, a most lucky day to secure the future of our bloodline. It will also be a beautiful way to start a new year and give the common folk something to look forward to celebrating."

Shock ran through her as Lothíriel tried to swallow the fact that soon her oldest brother would be married. She always knew that one-day Elphir would have to marry. As heir to the Princedom of Belfalas, he has a duty to secure the family with his own heir. Still. She had never thought that the day would arrive so soon.

"Who is she? My good sister, to be?"

"Lady Eirien of Dol Amroth, her father is Lord Túon. I think you met him once as a child, though he's not a very big political player. He is a good man who cares diligently over his sickly wife."

Such devotion was not commonly shown so ardently in any Gondorian Court. Lord Túon must be a very good man, so hopefully, that meant he'd have a good daughter.

"Their daughter was sent away to Minas Tirith so her education wouldn't suffer on how to be a proper lady, though that means she probably hasn't been taught much on the political landscape of Dol Amroth and how to manage a seaside home. Remind me to pen a note to your mother later regarding that."

Lothíriel learned that she'd be meeting her good sister in about a week's time with her family at a formal dinner. After that though, Lothíriel would be staying with her aunt till the wedding. Though Aunt Ivriniel claimed that they knew she was a mature girl for her age, the bride had requested that Lothíriel and Amrothos not be present so that the courting process could develop easier.

Since it was such a small request, the family had agreed and Amrothos would be going with the Swan Knights to Minas Tirith to join their cousin Boromir on his first campaign. He, of course, was ecstatic to be joining such a campaign and had no complaints, though apparently, her naneth had been concerned about how his sea-longing would affect him during his absence.

Lothíriel couldn't help but feel a bit resentful that this Lady she hadn't even met yet had decided to banish her from her own home for six months and that her family had agreed. While she loved learning and being in her aunt's presence, she was a bit concerned that this request was a sign of how things would be in the future with Lady Eirien as part of the family. If so, then Lothíriel was not pleased with such an addition.

Finishing their tea, Aunt Ivriniel decided that since she would be remaining as a guest for the evening, she should not only practice her studies but her gift. The storm had started to hit them hard during their talk, with the sea roaring its discontent in the background.

Taking her under her wing, Lothíriel spent the remaining of the afternoon practicing on how to manage a household during a storm and what she should check to ensure her home is properly prepared for such weather.

Afterwards, they made their way to the private study where Lothíriel looked deep into their lineage over and over.

"Seeing their faces and instinctively knowing their relationship with each other is all well and good but now you must try and find their names as well. Then you can really use this knowledge to your advantage."

Blinking wearily at her aunt, Lothíriel looked once more and saw - grey eyes, black hair, long faces- Focus! Focus on one-person Lothíriel! - A man, strong and tall, worn by war and grief - Who is that? - a leader of men, no… A Prince of Dol Amroth. His name was...

"Prince Aglahad?"

Worn hands brushed sweaty bangs away from her tired face. Her aunt looked so proud at her, it made the pulsing pain in her head worth it.

"Well done. Your gift is strong and growing nicely, you must exercise it. Now, no complaints! One more time then we will break for dinner. From the beginning now…"

Dinner that evening was filled with lighthearted talks of family and gossip, her aunt was a strong believer in keeping Lothíriel aware of all the latest scandals and rumours. While Lothíriel would never hold her naneth's position in Court, she would be expected to know how to maneuver and distribute that kind of gossip accordingly. Not all gossip was bad gossip, as Aunt Ivriniel liked to say.

"Such things will be vital for you, so you do not make another misstep as you did in Minas Tirith, sweetling."

Rumours and gossip were needed, not only to manage the Courts but to know who was out of sorts with who. Things that would be important for her naneth and adar when negotiating with different Lords for supplies and soldiers.

After dinner, Lothíriel was taken to the music hall, where she had to spend hours and hours on the harp, practicing the traditional songs of Dol Amroth and other popular pieces of Gondor.

"Dol Amroth is known as the city with the best harpists in all of Gondor. As it's princess you must be able to live up to such a reputation. Now, no more complaining! Start again from the first stanza and give it more feeling, you are playing a love song, not a funeral piece."

Losing herself in her music lessons, Lothíriel purged all the shame and stress that had been building up inside her. The more she poured herself into the melody the more vibrant the sound became. She could almost forget the escalation of the shadow, the rise of the battles in Gondor and the uncertainties she had for her future. At that moment there was solely music and a girl named Lothíriel.

A week went by quickly and the day of the formal meeting came with much anticipation and dread for the family. Lothíriel being the only one dreading it. Already her naneth had been preparing her move to her aunt's, ensuring that the trunks would be ready for transport for the day after the formal dinner.

"Have Tuluen do your hair tonight, my flower. I'm afraid I won't have time to do it myself."

Tuluen is her naneth's personal handmaiden, and skilled in hairstyling. Her naneth must be especially eager to have Lothíriel look her very best for dinner.

By the time the sun set, Lothíriel was declared ready to face the bride-to-be and her family. Shoulders back and head held high, she was wearing her favourite sea green dress, with mother of pearl beads braided into the fitted sleeves and hem. Her hair had been wrangled into an elegant braid that coiled into a bun. Tuluen had managed to weave a pretty sea green ribbon into the tresses, artfully kept in place with pearl pins. For the first time in a long while, Lothíriel felt like a proper princess.

"You look beautiful Thíri, Elphir's bride will be jealous."

Smiling up at Amrothos grinning face, she took his arm and made their way to the main hall. She was confident that she looked every inch a princess should.

Not an hour later and all that self-confidence Lothíriel had felt in her room, had abandoned her.

Lady Eirien was radiant in her light blue gown, the colour accenting her skin perfectly and the laced up, darker blue surcoat flattered her figure generously. The embroidered pattern and tight fitted silk enhanced and highlighted her figure in the candlelight. Amrothos had been unable to stop sneaking glances at her all through dinner and even Erchirion had looked her over twice. Elphir on the other hand, had a severe look on his face as if her beauty and fine manners had made him retreat more instead of open up. Lothíriel slumped her shoulders as she picked at her food, feeling very much like a child playing dress up, in her finery.

Laughter from her parents and the other lord and lady echoed in the hall, as they smiled and planned the wedding. Lord Túon was a jolly man who had reminded Lothíriel of a beloved uncle, while his wife, Lady Cílel, was a delicate thing, nearly translucent, with the same eyes as her daughter, a deep royal blue colour.

Looking up to catch Lady Eirien's eyes, Lothíriel gazed into her family line- Lord Túon standing proudly with his wife-alive and well as can be- lords and ladies with eyes of grey and blue, all devoted to their spouses, with nary a bastard within the 10 generations she could see. Feeling light headed from the rush of information and names, Lothíriel took a fortifying drink from her small glass of wine.

"Are you alright Princess Lothíriel?"

Lady Cílel truly was a sweet woman, while delicate in health, her entire presence was like her naneth's in that they were sincere in their concern. No matter what they were doing, both could fill a room with warmth and acceptance. It was the one thing Lady Eirien didn't inherit from her parents, for even Lord Túon could set a room at ease. With his wit and jolly disposition, no bad humour could stay around him for too long. Her adar had smiled and laughed more with him in this one evening than any other evenings with other lords at his table.

"Yes, Lady Cílel. Just a mild headache, nothing a good pot of tea can't cure."

Lady Eirien glanced at Lothíriel at that remark, before addressing her adar and naneth.

"Prince Imrahil, Princess Aeardîs, if I may be so bold as to suggest that perhaps Princess Lothíriel should retire early? I understand she is to leave tomorrow to Lady Ivriniel's home, and I would hate for her to travel in discomfort when an early good night's rest could have lessened her pain."

Indignation at Lady Eirien's remark of banishing Lothíriel from her own table to bed, simply because of a small headache, infuriated her something fierce. Clenching her hands under the table, she sent a hard stare at her parents, silently begging them to not comply with her suggestion.

"Your kindness does you credit Lady Eirien, and your suggestion is most thoughtful. I agree with you, Lothíriel should retire to bed and rest for her journey tomorrow."

Betrayal filled her heart, as she watched her adar nod and her naneth agree with that-that interloper, on her suggestion. Grinding her teeth, Lothíriel gave her politest smile as her naneth continued.

"I'll ring up a servant with a pot of ginger tea, so you'll be able to drink it while it's piping hot."

"I recommend a spoonful of honey, Princess Aeardîs. My mother always makes it that way for me."

Lady Eirien sent a fond look to her waif-like mother, both smiling softly at each other while her parents looked on in approval. The injustice truly was too much for Lothíriel to bear.

Saying her goodbyes to the visiting Lord and Lady, and goodnights to her family, she managed to calmly leave the hall before stomping her way to her chamber. Biting her lower lip in frustration she made it to her room and threw herself upon her bed where she screamed into her pillows. She had been outmaneuvered, treated as a child and banished so easily that it startled her on how her family had so quickly agreed.

Lothíriel wouldn't be able to talk about this with anyone, for Lady Eirien had been polite, respectful and charming throughout the whole dinner. No one would believe Lothíriel should she describe her as cold and distant, with a strong grip over her family.

Bemoaning her future fate of living in the same castle as her, Lothíriel decided that the only thing she could hope to do was avoid her and keep to her aunt's home. When the maid arrived with the tea, Lothíriel spitefully refused the spoonful of honey and drank it all in one gulp. Curling under her covers, she prepared herself for a long fitful sleep.

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

Matchmaker - A third party noble who helps broker arranged marriages that benefit the family lineage. Reputation is everything for a matchmaker.