Lothiriel entered the chambers her family had been given only to be swept up into a flurry of activity.
"Thiri, you're back! How was Faramir doing?" Amrothos called, in the midst of pulling a dark grey tunic over his head.
"Amrothos, do let the girl get in the door before you bombard her with questions! How did you get back to us? Were you escorted?" Erchirion asked, moving to close the door behind her sister.
"Peace children!" Imrahil chuckled, clasping his youngest son on the shoulder. "I am very confident that Lothiriel will inform us of Faramir's welfare, if only she could have the chance to do so!" Lothiriel smiled, and rushed to her father and kissed him on both cheeks.
"Faramir is fine, moving about, even joking. But Father, these two are masters at rendering me speechless! Have you not taught them manners at all?" Imrahil roared with laughter at this, and Amrothos feigned offense while Erchirion mimed swatting his sister.
"Because you are so proper, and have every right to speak about manners, sister." Amrothos teased, winking at Lothiriel who moved out of her father's arms to ruffle his hair. "Oi, not the hair Thiri! You know that's why the ladies love me so."
"Yes, because Gods know why else they would love you." Erchirion said, rolling his eyes and earning an ungentlemanly gesture from Amrothos.
"Though I do thank the Gods that my family is nearly completely reunited, we cannot dally with banter much longer, the King is expecting us." Imrahil said.
"Speaking of family, where is Elphir?" Lothiriel asked, looking around the spacious room as if expecting her oldest brother to come bursting in from every opening.
"You mean the future ruler of our beloved city? In Dol Amroth of course. Couldn't be bothered to leave that milk-toast wife of his…" Erchirion muttered darkly, earning a reproachful look from Imrahil.
"Erchirion, he is the oldest and next in line to my throne. Someone needed to guard the city; he has a wife, a small child, and another on the way. He will do an admirable job, of this, I am certain." Amrothos and Lothiriel exchanged conspiratorial looks, but said nothing. "Now then, Lothiriel, hurry and change into a nicer dress, my dear. All the Great Men of the West shall be in attendance tonight, and we of Dol Amroth should not disappoint!" Lothiriel smiled, hurried to her room, and closed the door 3/4ths of the way.
"Mind you, not too nice Thiri! I don't want to have to kill any heroes because of the way they were gawking at my baby sister!" Amrothos yelled.
"I'm one and twenty years Amrothos! I am not a baby any longer!" Lothiriel called back, reappearing in a dress of deep blue and white, her hair only held back by the silver crown atop her head.
"No, my child." Imrahil said his voice suddenly tight. "You are certainly not 'little Lothy' anymore." Lothiriel flushed and was abruptly aware of her brothers' and father's gazes on her.
"Bloody hell, I'll have to bring two swords…" Amrothos grumbled, earning a glare from his father. Erchirion approached Lothiriel first, offering her the crook of his arm.
"May I escort you, beautiful lady?" Erchirion asked, grinning cheekily at his sister. She pinched his arm.
"Only if you swear on the Valar never to call me that again!" Erchirion snorted and Imrahil led the way to the great dining hall. Their new king stood at the center of the stairs, exchanging greetings with everyone who entered.
"Only royalty and generals are here tonight, Loth." Erchirion whispered. "Better make a good impression." Lothiriel elbowed her brother, earning a smile before their father came to a halt in front of the king.
"My Lord Aragorn, may I present to you two of my sons," Erchirion retracted his arm from Lothiriel, and Amrothos stepped forward to be level with his brother, "Erchirion and Amrothos of Dol Amroth. My eldest, Elphir, has remained behind to defend our port city with his wife and child." The Lord Aragorn clasped both siblings' hands warmly.
"It is an honor and a privilege to meet the sons of such an admirable man." Imrahil waved his hand, but was clearly touched by the King's compliment.
"And this, Lord Aragorn, is my youngest and only daughter, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth." Lothiriel stepped forward.
Just when you think this man is intimidating, you see his eyes. Lothiriel thought to herself. I have never seen such kind eyes.
"An honor, milady. It is clear to see that you are the treasure of your family, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. With good reason, I am sure." Lothiriel smiled warmly at this, and allowed her new king to kiss both her cheeks in the traditional gesture. The family had to quickly make their leave, as many other nobles were interested in meeting their new king before the decisive battle. Lothiriel had barely made it down the steps when a voice stopped her.
"Why, this cannot be the barefoot princess that once chased me down the hallway in the tower of Dol Amroth with a stick, demanding to be taught magic? This woman looks like she is an Elvish queen, not at all the precocious princess I remember so fondly." Lothiriel spun around and covered her mouth in a gasp.
"Mithrandir!" Lothiriel said, and the White Wizard laughed and opened his arms.
"Come and give this old Wizard a hug, my formerly impudent princess!" Lothiriel very nearly ran, but at the last minute remembered where she was, and settled for a jaunty walk before reaching Gandalf and hugging him tightly.
"Mithrandir," she paused, taking in his new cloak and staff, "well I guess that name doesn't really apply to you anymore!" He laughed and gave her another hug. "You look better than ever, Gandalf."
"Oh please, my dear, don't flatter this old bag of bones. You on the other hand, are quite the princess! I highly doubt anyone would mistake you for a servant's flighty child now, would they?" Lothiriel flushed while her brothers roared with laughter; Lothiriel had been mistaken for said child at age 6, and 15 years later had still not lived the story down. Perhaps seeing her discomfort, Gandalf rubbed her back soothingly; "Now, now child, I meant to compliment, not to embarrass you! There are people that you must meet, dear girl. Imrahil, might I steal her away for a moment?" Imrahil nodded, and Gandalf directed her over to a group of men standing just a few feet away.
"You've already met Aragorn of course," Gandalf paused, allowing Aragorn to kiss Lothiriel's hand. Lothiriel pinked slightly and the King laughed.
"Your Highness, you're too kind. I hardly deserve such welcome." Aragorn smiled again.
"Please, call me Aragorn. I have never been one for titles, especially with the family of dear friends." Lothiriel smiled back at him, charmed.
"Then I must insist you call me simply Lothiriel, for my father had the good sense not to name me 'milady'." Aragorn, Gandalf, and the surrounding group laughed.
"And this is Legolas Thranduilion, from Mirkwood." Gandalf nodded towards one of the fairest people Lothiriel had ever seen, and there was no doubt in her mind that this man had to be an elf.
"You wear your heritage well, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. Were I not of the Valar myself, I might have mistaken you for one of my kin." Lothiriel flushed; being told you could compare to the beauty of Elves was no small compliment, especially coming from an Elf himself!
"Le hannon, Legolas Thranduilion. I fear you are being far too generous, I have no doubt of exactly how human I am."
"Lass, this one here may be a charmer but he nearly never lies. I must agree with him; when you first entered, I thought you were an Elvish princess they had neglected to inform this old Dwarf about!" Lothiriel smiled down at the Dwarf.
"I must thank you for the compliment as well, good sir Dwarf. Might I be so rude as to beg you for your name?" The Dwarf chuckled.
"Only if you would be so kind and give yours to me in return, lass. I am Gimili, son of Gloin."
"I would give you my name gladly, Gimili, son of Gloin. I am Lothiriel." By then, another man came to the circle and Lothiriel's eyes went to him immediately; how were they not to when he was so broad and commanding?
"Ah Eomer, I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost coming back from the Houses of Healing." Aragorn said, "How fares the White Lady?"
"She is much better, and to you I must be eternally grateful, though, I think we also have her stubbornness to thank." Aragorn grinned at this.
"Eomer, have you met Princess Lothiriel? She is Imrahil's daughter." Gandalf said calmly. Eomer smiled, though Lothiriel noticed for some reason it did not reach his eyes. He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, a common gesture, but Lothiriel was not prepared for her own response. The tiniest brush of his lips on her bare hand was enough to set her knees wobbling; it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Eomer seemed unsettled as well, but was able to carry on the conversation as if nothing had happened.
"Yes, she was also at the Houses of Healing earlier. Merry and Pippen made too much noise and got us all thrown out." The Hobbits grew playfully indigent at Eomer's comment.
"It's not our fault the Healers can't appreciate Shire culture! Lady Lothiriel seemed to enjoy it, didn't you milady?" Pippen asked, grinning gleefully. Lothiriel nearly had to shake her head to snap out of the trance; Pippen's voice seemed to be distorted, as if he had been underwater.
"Oh! Oh, yes the song was quite wonderful." In an undertone, she leaned closer to Merry and Pippen, "to be honest, I rather like it more than the stuffy music I have been subjected to over the years." The Hobbits went on; further giving example of how Shire music was far superior to any and all other forms of music, but Lothiriel was not truly listening.
What was that? It can't have been obvious, Erchirion and Amrothos aren't trying to kill him…he is very handsome…oh what are you saying Lothiriel, you hardly know the man!
Lothiriel was not the only one lost in thought; Eomer was staring at her while his mind was racing faster than Firefoot had ever gone.
Too many nights in the saddle, Eomer, now any good looking woman sets you off…I don't know her, she's a Gondorian princess, and Bema knows what they're like….
Oblivious to the inner turmoil inside the Roherric King and the Gondorian Princess, the night went on smoothly, ending early since tomorrow was the one battle that could decide the fate of Middle Earth. Lothiriel bid farewell and good luck to all of her friends (new and old) and gave each a kiss.
"Surely you all know it is good luck to receive a kiss from a lady before battle!" When her father looked disproving, Lothiriel clarified. "And it is well known that the cheek is the most receptive for luck of course!"
Their reactions ranged from stuttering (Merry and Pippen), flattered (Gandalf, Legolas, and Aragorn), teasing ("I think I'll take one of those before every battle!" Gimli said with a wink), and polite (Eomer). Lothiriel would be lying if she did not admit that when she kissed the bearded cheek of the King of the Mark, her heart was hammering in her chest far quicker than it had been with any of the other sweetly-given kisses. Indeed, when she pulled back, Eomer's eyes were stormy, reminding Lothiriel of her beloved sea.
What hidden depths lie inside of him? I wonder… The bells of a near-by clock-tower rang out, signaling the arrival of the 10th hour. The group dispersed, all preparing for riding and war.