"…And last and proudest, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, kinsman of the Lord, with gilded banners bearing his token of the Ship and the Silver Swan, and a company of knights in full harness riding grey horses, and behind them seven hundreds of men at arms, tall as lords, grey-eyed, dark-haired, singing as they came."

-The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

16 Sulimë III 3019

Dol Amroth

Elphir had never seen his sister so dedicated. Every day for the past week, he had found her on the archery buttes, practicing her form for hours on end. Once, when she had gone inside for a moment, he had tried her bow, to test its strength. Much to his surprise, though he was more than capable of drawing it, it had taken a good deal of effort to draw it to its fullest.

Today, as usual, she was out on the buttes, a pleasant hum rising from her bow each time she loosed an arrow. He saw four empty quivers at her feet, each one labeled as holding a different type of arrow—some armor-piercing broadheads and needleheads, others tipped with oil-soaked rags to serve as fire arrows, still others barbed or narrow and shaped for range. She looked up as a score of men-at-arms ran past, shouting orders and slinging packs onto their shoulders as they went.

"Elphir, what's going on?" Lothíriel demanded, turning to face him. Elphir looked at her gravely.

"Gondor has lit the beacons for aid," he said grimly. "Ada is leading two hundred Swan Knights and 700 men-at-arms to Minas Tirith to fight. The final battle is coming, onóre. We go to fight for Middle-earth." Before he could finish speaking, Lothíriel was gone, hiking up her skirts as she made for the stables.

"Ada!" she cried, looking between the stalls. "Ada, where are you?" She caught sight of him as he mounted his charger, rising above the gates and fences of the stalls. "Ada, wait!"

Surprised, he reined in his steed, turning to look down at her.

"What is it, Little Swan?" he asked. Lothíriel was struck silent for a moment as she took in his armored appearance and the reality of his journey hit her.

"I want to fight, Ada," she said firmly, though her voice held the slightest hint of a tremor. "I want to ride to Minas Tirith with you."

"Absolutely not," he replied instantly. "I will not risk the life of my only daughter in battle!"

"Ada, you know I can fight!" Lothíriel insisted. "Or if I can't, I can work in the Houses of Healing! Please, Ada, let me just ride with you to Minas Tirith and work as a healer. I do not wish to be left behind. Let me come, for Boromir's sake, Ada." Her father looked at her curiously, seeing an older, wiser sadness in her eyes.

"I cannot let you come, daughter," he said quietly. "If we go to our doom, I would not condemn you with us. If your brothers and I do not return, you will lead our people with the Council to advise you. For now, though, I have appointed Lord Galen as regent."

"But Ada—" she protested. He shook his head.

"This is final, daughter," he said firmly. "You are not to come with us. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ada," she said finally, disappointment evident. "Yes, I do."

"Good," Imrahil replied, relief evident in his voice. "I love you very much, Little Swan."

"I love you too, Ada," Lothíriel promised, smiling softly up at him.

"Now, go find your brothers," Imrahil ordered. "I do not believe they would leave without first saying their farewells to you." Lothíriel turned and ran off, and Imrahil watched her go.

"Mallos!" Amrothos called, and Lothíriel turned to see her brothers leading their mounts from the stables. She ran to them, arms outstretched, and Amrothos caught her easily. "You didn't think we'd leave without first saying goodbye, did you?" Lothíriel giggled despite her disappointment, hugging him tightly.

"Of course I knew you'd come to say goodbye," she replied, smiling impishly. "You'd miss me too much if you didn't!"

"We would indeed, mallos," Amrothos agreed, planting a kiss on her forehead. "We'd miss you far too much."

"Don't worry, onóre," Erchirion said, wrapping his arm about her shoulders. "We'll be back before you know it. Just make sure there's a lovely feast for us when we return, and all will be well."

A horn sounded in the distance, and her brothers' faces darkened.

"That's the call to arms, onóre," Elphir said regretfully. "It is time for us to leave." He pulled her close and held her tightly before placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Kill a few orcs for me, onóro," Lothíriel replied, kissing his cheek for luck.

"You know I will, little sister," Elphir pledged, handing her over to Erchirion.

"The return feast had best be delicious," Erchirion warned, and Lothíriel laughed before kissing his cheek.

"I'll bake a pie for you myself," she promised.

"Did I not just say I wanted it to be delicious?" Erchirion teased, and she glared at him before bursting into a second bout of laughter.

"Luck, onóro," she said finally, managing to halt her giggles before Erchirion passed her off to Amrothos.

Lothíriel stared up at her favorite brother, struggling not to let her tears fall.

"No crying, onóre," he ordered softly, raising his eyebrows. "We'll be home soon enough. I promise." Lothíriel sniffed miserably, hugging him tightly before stepping back as he kissed her forehead.

"I Melain berio le, ná Elbereth veria le, ar no in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn," Lothíriel whispered as her brothers mounted up and rode after their father, mustering near the main gate. She hitched up her skirts as she ran, dashing through the palace to stand on the wall and watch as they left. Her brothers all turned to look up at her as they passed, and she waved to them, fighting to keep a smile on her face as the long lines of warriors slowly faded from sight.

Author's Note: Short chapter, I know, but it's a transition. Also, I'm posting two chapters (see, I'm a nice person!). And Lothíriel's farewell translates approximately to "May the Valar keep you, may Elbereth protect you, and may all the stars shine on your path."