Lothíriel silently left the sanctuary and walked back to the palace. She noiselessly strode to her rooms. A small wooden box guarded her most personal items. Engraved on this box's lid was a depiction of the Little White Horse. She folded and placed the handkerchief within. After closing and locking the lid, Lothíriel made her way two her parents' room where she apologized.
The two weeks she had to spend at home before her departure flew by quickly. She insisted on packing her own things to the servants' dismay. In a large trunk, Lothíriel packed clothing, keepsakes, books, and other personal items. When she finished, she gazed around her room, memorizing the layout and remembering all happy memories.
The day of departure arrived. Servants brought Lothíriel's trunk to the harbor, which was situated below the cliff the castle sat on. Prince Imrahil boarded the ship with Lothíriel because he had some business in Minas Tirith besides ensuring his daughter's safety. Sailing weather was ideal, and they reached Minas Tirith within a week. Imrahil stayed in the city for seven days. During that time, Lothíriel adjusted to her new life.
After her father left, Lothíriel's training began. It started with learning to recognize plants and their functions. This gave her an excuse to practice her drawing. When she passed that phase, putting together plants into salves and other types of medicines. Gradually, she memorized the many recipes, which were thankfully very simple. At the end of six months, she was ready for more clinical duties. Some of the time, she observed surgeries and took notes. At other times, she visited patients with an experienced healer. Six months later, the healers supervised her as she nervously stitched simpler wounds. She did not mind the blood and mess, but she minded the skilled surgeon's scrutiny. Visiting patients was much easier as the atmosphere was more carefree. A year later, she a full-fledged healer for common and slightly less common cases.
At the end of her training, the Warden called Lothíriel to speak with him in the garden. He asked, "After every apprentice graduates, I always one question: What have you learned?"
Lothíriel gazed over the city below them, contemplating the past two and a half years. Finally, she answered thoughtfully, "The reality and brevity of life. The frailty of humanity. The courage compassion takes. The capability every person has to make life a little bit easier for another."
"Then you have learned well," said the old Warden. "Keep on learning as you grow in your acquired skills. That is my final command. My encouragement is this: your influence in this world may be small, but you can still make a difference."
"Thank you, Warden," responded Lothíriel. "I shall remember what I have learned and what you said."
The next day, a messenger from the Citadel arrived at the Houses of Healing with an order from Denethor to bring Lothíriel to him. Lothíriel changed from her simple healer's garb into a fancier gown. The messenger led her through the gate into the Citadel, pass the main courtyard, and beyond many passageways. Finally, they arrived in a large parlor. Denethor rose from his seat and greeted Lothíriel. Then he dismissed the messenger.
"You have not visited the Citadel very often," he remarked. "Have the healer's place you on a rigorous schedule?" He offered Lothíriel a seat next to a small table.
"Not exactly," she replied carefully. "However, I am finished with my training."
Denethor peered into her face as if he was endeavoring to read her thoughts. Then he drew back, seemingly disappointed. He queried, "Do you intend to return to Dol Amroth soon?"
"I intend to stay as a healer until the end of the year before returning home," she answered. So far, nothing about Denethor was very intimidating, except his glances towards her.
Denethor said, "I have a better proposition for you. I am in need of a…"assistant." I assume your parents have given you a higher education than most ladies receive. At any rate, you are far more mature and responsible. Twould not be a demanding request. You'd still have time to do whatever you wish."
Hoping she could stall her answer, Lothíriel said, "I would need my parents' permission."
"I wrote to them already, so there is no need for that," he said. "They give their permission as long as you give yours."
Lothíriel bit her lip. Her uncle was too confident of predicting her answer. Part of her desired to reject and continue her own way. The other part reminded her to utilize what she learned in the Houses of Healing. Before the inner turmoil would cause her accidently cause her to say the wrong thing, she squeaked, "May I think over it?"
"Of course," he said. "By next week, I want an answer." He then called for a servant to escort Lothíriel back to the Houses of Healing.
During the following days, Lothíriel agonized over the two choices. She liked her uncle as a person, but his gaze and voice unnerved her, resulting in a sort of dread of him. When she returned to the Citadel, she was slightly paler than the week before.
"Well?" said he taciturnly. "Have you made up your mind?"
"I have, sir," she said solemnly, resolving not let Denethor see her fear. "First of all, I wish to know your requirements before I give my final word."
"Certainly," said he. "Organize social events, which are mainly for Yule and campaign successes, keep record of the economy, and ensure the maintenance of the city."
"Could you please clarify 'the maintenance of the city'?"
"Keeping peace and order in the city," he answered shortly.
"Does that include settling major arguments?"
"Yes."
"Also, I must have the liberty to execute these duties my own way. I would, however, bring reports if you wish it. Also, I must be allowed one day a week to spend how I wish."
"So be it. I am also willing to provide you a stipend for your services."
"Then here is my final answer. I accept your offer, but you must allow me a few days to adjust to the roles you just delegated to me."
Denethor smiled and called for some wine, of which only he drank while Lothíriel opted with just water. Afterwards, he ordered some rooms to be prepared for Lothíriel in the next few days. Lothíriel returned to the Houses of Healing and broke the news to the Warden, who gave her his blessing as she "might be in desperate need of it." After packing her belongings, again, and giving her respect to all her teachers, Lothíriel moved from the sixth circle to the seventh.
Transitioning into an administrator of Minas Tirith was somewhat easy. Older officials shamed her as best they could due to her gender and age. Lothíriel quickly learned that masking emotions would give her some standing with prejudiced officials. Entering a political sphere, no matter how intentional or not, included a risk. Her task was actually quite straightforward. Four days of the week was spent with the people, which gave her the opportunity to employ her training as a healer. The other two days were spent tracking and recording the entire economy Gondor. With this task, she actually assisted the treasurer, who was a kind, old man. She had not yet had to plan any social events, but the thought of it excited her.
Although her job was sometimes demanding, Lothíriel loved it. The agony in making the decision was worth spending more time with Minas Tirith's citizens. She also enjoyed spending time with the old treasurer, who inadvertently taught her many things about governing a nation. Yes, one should never be afraid of the future when there is life and light.