Winter settled in Rohan. Blanketed in snow, Edoras lay silent at night, but still relatively active during the day. With Yule fast approaching, Éomer returned to Edoras from his patrols. He greeted his sister warmly before quietly asking of their uncle's health.
"He hardly stirs from Meduseld," she said solemnly. "I fear Gríma Wormtongue's influence is ever strengthening day by day."
Éomer muttered, "I curse the day he became uncle's chief counsellor. The only council he gives are poison."
After greeting his uncle, he addressed Wormtongue with forced civility. Then he crossed the snowy terrace and went down to the guesthouse where he lodged when in Edoras. As he entered, a familiar voice hailed him from the street.
"Théodred!" he responded with a smile. "It is good to see you! How long have you been in Edoras?"
"And I you," Théodred answered. "I arrived yesterday, but I did not hear about your coming."
The two went into the guesthouse and settled round the dining table with ale in hand. After reporting to each other of the last few weeks, talk drifted to more personal matters. Somehow their conversation turned to girls.
"I would think that you would have found someone to settle with long ago," Éomer remarked wryly after hearing about Théodred's latest interest.
"Some do not prove to be as ideal as I wanted," replied Théodred defensively. "Besides, what about you?"
"I met a girl ten years ago," Éomer answered. "I've seen her twice since then."
"And what was she like?" Théodred prodded. "What is her name?"
"Hair as black as night, sun-kissed complexion, and eyes as grey as stormy clouds. Her name is unknown to me."
"Getting poetic are you?" teased Théodred with a smile. "Are you smitten?"
"No, not quite," smiled Éomer. "More like fascinated. She is younger than Éowyn, I think, but she is more discerning than any other girls her age. She is not from these parts, so I doubt I shall see her again."
Théodred remarked, "Perhaps you shall find a girl like her, then. She sounds more of a dream than reality. I best see Father before I head off."
With that, Théodred left for Meduseld while Éomer headed for the stables to keep Firefoot some company.
Faramir and Boromir returned from their outposts a week before Yule Lothíriel watched their arrival from the brow of the seventh gate. Despite the cold weather and light snowfall, the citizens gathered as close as they could to the two great men. Both were tall and dark-haired, but Boromir was broader than his brother. He waved gaily at the people while Faramir just smiled. Though both of their natures contrasted, their bond was close. While they dismounted at the stables in the sixth circle, Lothíriel hastened to the steps of the entrance to the great hall where Denethor stood.
Faramir bowed and paid his respects to his father as warmly as possible. Meanwhile, Boromir greeted Lothíriel with a bear hug, exclaiming something along the lines of not expecting to see her. Then he greeted his father. The four of them left the snowy courtyard and entered the warm halls.
Lothíriel dined with her cousins and uncle before excusing herself soon after. She went to her lodgings. A servant already lit a blazing fire in her room. After writing to her family and packaging the gifts she made them, Lothíriel settled down to read. However thoughts of her cousins and uncle distracted her. She had witnessed both her cousins' greetings and conversations with their father. For some reason, Boromir seemed to have more favor because his speech was respectful, but casual. Faramir's seemed more formal and tense.
Citywide festivities for Yule and New Year's passed without any major problems. Spring passed uneventfully. During June, Faramir and Boromir arrived in Minas Tirith for some important council that left Lothíriel mystified. Early July, Boromir set off for a long journey. Whispered gossips said he was heading for elven lands. Summer faded as did autumn.
Winter settled in, colder than the last. Older citizens declared it to be coldest winter yet. The sun shone without much warmth. Sometimes it seemed to shine with less brightness. Lothíriel found the atmosphere of the city be quieter and more depressing than the previous winter.
In the middle of January, Lothíriel requested a small council with Denethor and a select few officials. It was set for two days after her request.
Denethor opened the meeting, saying, "Gentlemen, we are called here today to consider an important concern brought by Lady Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Lady Lothíriel, please present your concerns."
"Thank you, Lord Denethor, for your understanding," Lothíriel said, inclining her head towards her uncle. Addressing the rest of the council, she said, "My lords, this winter has been especially difficult for the city. I have spoken to older inhabitants, and all of them agree that this winter has been the coldest yet. Many have even perished."
"What are you trying to say, girl?" interrupted a grumpy official.
Lothíriel replied sternly, "I have not finished speaking, sir. Please keep all comments to yourselves until I have concluded. I am convinced that this winter foreshadows a more deadly event. I have been doing some research in the archives. We all know that a darkness grows in the east. The past year, and especially this winter, it has grown and become more active."
"Are you suggesting that Minas Tirith is becoming unsafe for the people?" questioned the old treasurer.
"Exactly," said Lothíriel. "I suggest an evacuation. Considering the size of this city, it should be carried out in stages. If one circle could leave in one week, then the city will be empty in six to seven weeks."
Lord Denethor spoke up, "Lady Lothíriel is right, and her suggestions are sound. Whether you realize it or not, the darkness she speaks of has indeed risen. Far more quickly than I have expected. Lady Lothíriel, I give you charge of overseeing this operation. Only women, children and the elderly. All nonfighting men are allowed to accompany their families. Council dismissed."
That very day, Lothíriel set off for the first circle with criers. She gave that circle an extra day because the news would be quite a shock. Then she went up to the rest of the circles, alerting of when they must leave. She organized each wain to make the evacuations as efficient as possible. Wagons drawn by horses exited the city first. Next came the slow, lumbering oxen. Men who drew their own carts came last. With each group, soldiers escorted them across the vast Pelennor Field.
In February, Imrahil and his sons arrived from Dol Amroth after the second circle left. With them came a host from Dol Amroth. They also brought word that the more forces were on their way and a letter for Lothíriel from her mother.
Two nights after his arrival, Imrahil called Lothíriel to his study. He began, "Lothiriel, Denethor informed me about all your hard work and plan for vacating the civilian population. When the last circle is evacuated, you must go with it."
"Father, I cannot go," Lothíriel said firmly.
Imrahil inhaled sharply. "Cannot or will not? What are your reasons?"
"The Houses of Healing will need me, and there are many other tasks that I can help with," Lothíriel explained. "Please, Father, do not send me away."
"Daughter, there is a high chance Minas Tirith will be attacked in the near future, and a battle is no place for a woman."
"The Houses of Healing is a battlefield, Father. Very often, we, healers, must battle death itself. Is that not what ultimately occurs on a battleground?"
"Lothíriel, if Minas Tirith should fall, the world will need healers and people like you to continue the fight against the Dark Lord and his devices."
"Gondor is not the only free nation. Is not Rohan in the north free? What about the elven kingdoms? There are many creatures we know not of fighting to keep their freedom."
Exasperated, Imrahil raised his voice, "This situation is not sunshine and roses! Do you realize how grim it is? Tis only a matter of time before Pelagir falls to the Corsairs. Minas Tirith is caught between dark forces south and east."
"What about the north and west? I am sure Uncle Denethor has knowledge of our ally."
"You are as stubborn as your mother. I thought it would be easy to send her to safety when the Corsairs attacked Dol Amroth, but no, she refused. Now you also defy my orders! What am I going to do with the two of you?" Imrahil groaned.
"She wrote of that," Lothíriel remarked. "Maybe you should trust our judgement. Am I old and mature enough to analyze the risks before deciding? I have thought long and hard about leaving or not, and I have made my decision. I am staying."
Imrahil muttered to himself, "Folly can disguise itself as wisdom." He then addressed his daughter, "Have it your way, and may the Valar protect us all."