Chapter 21

Edoras, 23th August 3019

The party was ready to leave. The horses were gathered on the grounds before Meduseld where a small crowd had assembled to say their farewells to the people of the South. Many new friendships now faced the partition, with promises of letters and travellings in the springtime.

Lothíriel thanked the cold unforgiving weather in the early morning. The effects of a sleepless night, filled with tears and sobs, were evident upon her face so maybe she could blame the harsh wind for the tears that might fall on her way home. Yet, she looked like a stoic princess from ancient tales. She drew her fur cloak closer to her neck and headed towards Galad. She was ready to leave this place for good. With no intention to come back.

Éowyn and Faramir were delayed inside the Golden Hall for a more private farewell. Lothíriel had already said hers during breakfast and it pained her so to leave her friend. She had come to see in Éowyn the sister she never had.

"How am I to learn all that Gondorian protocol without you here, Thíri?"

"That's why Gael is staying behind with you. And mind you, she a dear friend of mine and I want her back!" she said in a playful menacing tone.

Lothíriel had known Gael all her life. She had come to Dol Amroth shortly after her marriage with a knight of her father's court. But, alas, a fever of unknown cause had took him only 8 months after the wedding leaving Gael a young, helpless widow. Well, not helpless... For she was the sort of woman to face life's hardships with head held high and shoulders straight. Alone, with no family to support her, she turned to the Prince of Dol Amroth for employment. Lothíriel was a small child at the time and her mother had just passed. A young and merry influence on the house was seen as a good thing. So she became a sort of tutor for Thíri, in the matters of the house and social skills for Gael had once trained as a lady in waiting for the Steward's wife in Minas Tirith.

"But it is not the same! With you I can be silly because I know you won't laugh at me!"

"And neither will Gael! Éowyn, seriously, she is a sweet. She taught me all the protocol with all sorts of frisks and frolics. But she is just like me. If it wasn't for our age difference and my innapropriate spontaneity, typical of my uprising in a house of men, we could be twins! You'll love her, I promise."

Éowyn feigned resignation and sighed heavily.

"Fine... What could be done really!"

Lothíriel looked around seeking her father. Imrahil was making sure everything was ready for the journey. As she drew near, she heard the boosting voice of the new King of the Horsemasters.

"All set to go?" Éomer was saying to Aragorn, as he came down the steps of the Golden Hall. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to stay a little longer?"

"I wish I could, my friend. However, I too have a land to attend and its affairs have long been forgotten. It calls to me and I must give it the attention it deserves. Much needed attention from us all now."

"If there is anything I can do to help, you have but to call. Rohan will answer you whenever you need."

"I thank you, my brother. And the same thing extends the other way around. After all, with the Paths of the Dead soon open, will be closer than ever."

"We'll have to change that name, though... I suspect none will use it if we keep callinh it the Paths of the Dead."

Aragorn threw is head back and laughed heartily.

"True. I'm sure will thik of something more appropriate. Farewell, friend."

They shook hands and Éomer pulled him in for an affectionate embrace.

"I shall miss your guidance."

"You can always write." Aragorn teased him. He knew Éomers' writing skills were... a work in progress.

It was Éomer's turn to laugh. He kissed Arwen's hand and wished her a safe travel. In her turn, she placed a kiss on his brow and uttered a blessing for his ruling days to come.

"You will be good for Rohan, young King. May your days be blessed with plenty and happiness."

she then leaned on his ear and whispered. "Do not let doubt cloud your mind. Follow what beats inside." she said, placing her gentle hand over his chest. "The heart will always be true."

He looked deep in her eyes and saw the wisdom of countless ages in them. Amazed, he simply bowed.

Éomer turned to Imrahil and embraced him.

"My lord... I cannot thank you enough for everything you did for me..." he continued. "Specially my sisters' life... That I can't ever repay you... But if you ever need, you can surely count on me... Anything you need."

"My friend, I thank you for your words. But I'll ask only for your friendship. That will suffice."

"Farewell. A safe journey for you and your family." The young Rohan king embraced Imrahil again. He was fond of the Head of the Royal House of Dol Amroth. During the long days of battle, he was able to witness his kindness and altruistic manner. He was someone to look up to. "I will be expecting news from you."

"As will I. News of a new and prospering kingdom."

"And Elphir." he said embracing the eldest of Imrahil's sons. "Thank you for your company and your teachings in battle. They have been most useful."

"Yes, but you still fight with your heart and not your head!"

They laughed. He kissed Melian's cheek and wished her fast and happy birth for the new family member on the way.

"Erchirion, you ride like a Rohirrim. Are you sure you're from Dol Amroth?" More laughter. "Thank you as well for coming."

"That's what friends are for."

"And Amrothos, stay away from the ladies! They will be the death of you someday."

"And what a sweet death it will be!" he replied embracing him, patting him on the back. "We are but a few leagues apart so I may call on you some times."

"Our doors will always be open."

Finally, he turned to Lothíriel, his face hardening instantly. He didn't look at her, instead he stared at some blank spot over her left shoulder. He didn't take her hand either. He simply bowed before her, in a respectful and formal manner.

"Goodbye, my lady."

There wasn't a single drop of emotion in his words. Lothíriel felt a cold invisible hand in her chest and tears prickling her eyes, threatening to fall at any second. However, she managed to hold them back.

"Farewell, my lord."

After all they had been through, all that they shared, what remained were cold words between strangers.

How easily life takes a turn for the worst...

Lothíriel clenched her teeth and gathered the courage to swallow back her tears once more and mount Galad. She desperately wanted to cry for all she was about to loose but she would not. Not here, not now. She was a royal member of the House of Dol Amroth, for Valinor's sake. A descendant of a line of old. She held her head high and tried to keep a steady breathing. But inside she was screaming in pain, her heart tearing.

She pulled Galad's reins and turned to the gates. The people cheered them and gave them flowers, wishing a safe journey. But she didn't hear. As she passed the tall heavy city doors, she asked the Valar to give her the strength to overcome this. She forced into gallop and never looked back, even though she wanted so badly to. But pride prevented her from looking back.

She rode in silence, glad to have some time of peace to herself. Not that she wanted to think of anything at all, she just wanted to enjoy the cold air and the wind on her face and not think at all.

The group moved on slowly as Edoras faded on the background, the voices of loud and happy chattering all over. It would be a long and tiresome day on ridding but the road was leading them home.

They settled for the night nearby a lake. Tents were set up and soon the smell of food was overwelming. In her tent, Lothíriel sat on the cot, brushing her hair absentmindedly, not noticing Nooran coming in with a plate of food on her hand.

"I've brought you something to eat." She placed the plate on a nearby stool. "It's nothing fancy, child, I'm afraid. Some river fish the men caught and a few wild potatoes boiled in salt water."

"Thank you. I not really hungry..."

"I don't blame you..." She took the plate and set it aside. "I have a very good looking green apple though and I can bring you some other fruit, if you wish."

"No, I'm fine."

Nooran eyed her with concern.

"Are you alright, child? You seem too quiet for my taste."

Lothíriel tried to smile but did it poorly.

"I'm just tired I guess. The journey has taken a toll on me. I think I'll go to bed early."

The nursemaid didn't push. She knew her and at times, Lothiriel would close up in her world like a little clam. When she was ready to talk, if she need it, Nooran would always be around.

"You do that, sweetheart. We have to be up and about early tomorrow."

"Yes, I know."

She brought her lips to her brow and kissed her goodnight.

"Good night, my child. I will leave you the apple if you change your mind."

"Thank you, Nooran. Goodnight."

She placed the apple near by and exited the tent with the plate in hand.

Lothíriel placed her brush and took a look at the apple. She should eat, she thougt. She had hardly eaten anything throughout the whole day. But she couln't even bear the thought.

She felt empty. She drew the covlet over her and closed her eyes.

Please, let me sleep.She asked. And for once, the Valar granted her wish.

The next morning came as cold as the one before. Lothiriel i out of the tent with her silvery blue cloak and sat by a small dying fire trying to find some sort of warmth.

She watched the glowing embers until a plate of scrambled eggs appeared in front of her. She turned to find that someone had sat besides her.

"Would you care from some eggs?" he said in his smooth elven voice.

"Good morning, Legolas. Thank you but no."

"No? I made them myself."

"And I'm sure that they are perfect but I'm not hungry..."

"You should eat something."

"I already ate." she lied.

"Really?" He asked. When she couldn't look in his eyes, he continued. "You lie poorly, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth."

"Legolas..." she said, feeling defeated.

"Worry not, I will not press the issue. Besides, you will soon be rid of me."

She sighed. It wasn't something she was looking forward to. "When will you part us?"

"After we dismantle camp."

"This very morning? So soon..."

"Indeed."

A moment passed between them. Finally, she spoke.

"I will miss you."

"As will I."

They spend the rest of Legolas's breakfast in silence. The sun rose high. Tents were taken apart. Belongings gathered and set on hourses. And again came the time for farewells. As the royal party of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth continued their voyage home, another party had other plans. Legolas and Gimli had decided to embarque on an adventure through the wonders of Middle Earth, including the mystic Glithering Caves. Elessar and his queen were bond to visit her relatives in her birth city of Imladris. This was they all parted. This was the time to start life after the war.

Legolas approached Lothíriel, with his horse nearby. She had grown fond of his company. Saying goodbye was a hard task and now more than ever... Could she feel more lonely?

"Well, I guess this is it..." she started. "I grew so accostumed of you being around all the time, I'm so used to your presence by now that I feel like I'm missing a part of my family..."

The elf laught.

"I too shall miss you, little one."

"You will write, won't you?"

"As often as I can. I will be away sometime in this journey with Gimli but I'm always at your disposal, my lady, when ever you need me."

"Thank you. You are a true friend indeed."

He placed his hand over his heart and bowed low.

"Namarie."

"Safe journey."

Lothíriel turned to leave but Legolas stopped her track.

"Lothíriel... Remember, it is never too late to change your mind..."

She just smiled, sadly, at his words. It was already too late.

"Don't worry, mellon nin. All will be well once I get home."

He nodded, silently not beliving the calm she was trying to exude.

Gimli too kissed her hand and procedeed to tell her again, loud and clear for every one to hear, how beautiful she was, only second to the Elven Queen Galadriel. She blushed but was glad for the smile he was able to steal from her.

Aragorn and Arwen came to the family and extended invitations to Minas Tirith as soon as they got back from Rivendell. Many friendly meetings to pass the time but more importantly, many political gahterings between the royal houses. Imrahil was an experienced man in the matter of ruling and Aragorn wasn't a proud fool to deny that he would be a very helpful element in the court. Lothíriel knew her father was grateful with the King's recognition of his work.

As the caravan restarted its journey, Lothíriel's mood turned darker. Gloomier. Everynight, when she prepared to go to bed, she tried not to think too much of past events. She purposefully tired her sight by writing ou sewing in the meak light in order to fall asleep faster and prevent her treacherous heart from feeling. Still, she wouldn't cry. On the entire journey home, she did not shead a tear.

And finally, after days of travel, the clifts of Dol Amroth were in sight.

Home, at last.She thought as they drew near the Bay of Belfalas.

But, then... Why was she not experiencing the joy she should?