Chapter 17
Minas Tirith
March 3018
Lothíriel heard him before seeing his face. His voice was the same as she had heard the last time she was in Minas Tirith. She straightened her dress and checked that her pinned up hair was still in place before coming into view. The party from Dol Amroth had only arrived a few hours ago but as surely as the tide, her uncle would not be wasting any time to see to it that she would arrive on time to his dinner, where she would meet her future husband.
"My dear Lothíriel!" He sounded happy to see her until a strange look crossed over his face. "Why are you not wearing the circlet I gave to you the last time you were here? I believe I stated that you would wear it whenever you were in Minas Tirith." His jovial tone had been replaced almost instantly with a more serious one. She looked to her father for a moment for guidance. She swallowed before descending fully into the light.
"Hello, Uncle," she started. She felt her voice beginning to falter but cleared her throat before speaking. "I felt it would be unnecessary seeing as I can control my gift now. I was very well taught in Rivendell." Denethor raised his eyes slightly and put a glass of dark wine to his lips, holding the glass in place for what felt like an eternity.
"I went to a lot of trouble to get that circlet made for you," his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. "And besides, it's not just for your visions, but to denote that you are gifted at all. I expected you to be wearing it." He placed the drink down onto a nearby table before taking a step towards her. "You at least brought it here with you?" Lothíriel felt as if the room was being drained of air as she nodded. "Good!" His tone was joyful again as he turned away. "Hurry and have it put on, and do try to be quick about it. You are making the Crown Prince of Rohan wait for us."
Lothíriel's shoulders hunched forward slightly. While they had traveled on the boat, she had tried it on again and had felt the same coldness emanating from the stone that she had felt as a child. The feeling made her nauseous and sent chills up and down her spine. Turning back to the stairs she eventually reached the door to her room. It took all of her will to open the chest and even look at the silver circlet with the pure white gem. With a shaking hand, she pulled it out into the open. Behind her a maid stepped forward and put it in place, being careful not to mess up her elaborate hairstyle. She had to focus entirely on keeping a face that showed calm.
When she rejoined the group at the bottom of the stairs, a look of satisfaction crossed her uncle's face as he reached out and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. The two of them took the lead as they walked up the quiet streets towards Denethor's home. After making sure that the others were far back enough not to be overheard, he began to whisper into her ear, several of the words came out more like the hiss of a snake.
"You are going to behave like a true princess of Gondor, do you hear me?" She gave a slight nod and he continued. "I have had reports as to how you have been disdainful towards suitors in Dol Amroth and I will not accept any of that behavior here in the company of the Prince. I will not have you ruining all this effort and planning simply because you don't wish to be wed." She looked at him cautiously and he still went on, "It would be a shame if Dol Amroth was called to the front, wouldn't it?" He let the threat hang in the air. Lothíriel would have stopped moving if Denethor hadn't gripped her hand, that was securely in his arm, so tightly. "You will not do anything to mess it up and you will accept this marriage, am I understood?" Lothíriel nodded again, fighting the chills running through her body as the party made it into the candlelight.
"There she is, my bright-eyed cousin!" Boromir's booming voice echoed throughout the marbled hall. Théodred turned his gaze towards the door, following after Boromir as figures emerged from the night's shadow. It did not take long for him to spot his intended as she was at the head of the party with Denethor. Upon making eye contact, she let go of her uncle's arm and strode forward. She looked in body to be no older that twenty, but if he were to judge by her facial expression, he would venture to guess that she had seen too much sorrow for one so young.
"My lady," he bent forward into a deep bow, reaching out and taking her tiny, delicate hand in his own. "What a privilege it is to finally be able to meet you. I am Théodred, firstborn son of Théoden King of the Riddermark." When he straightened Lothíriel gave a small smile that didn't reach her eyes before introducing herself formally as well.
"My lord," she began, nodding her head rather than bowing, "I am Princess Lothíriel, the only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. I am glad to make your acquaintance." She took back her hand gently before stepping forward towards the food-laden table. Théodred made sure Lothíriel was settled before taking his own seat beside her. The group ate and exchanged conversation. Every once in a while, Denethor would ask a question regarding Rohan and Lothíriel would watch his response carefully, as if determining something about his character. Whenever he asked anything about Dol Amroth, she would give vague answers while keeping her attention on her uncle. After the meal, Théodred stood, holding his hand out to the Princess.
"Would you care to take a stroll through the gardens? It will give us a chance to get to know each other better as well as ease our full stomachs." Lothíriel took his hand in response and followed him out of the hall. The night air was cool but not as cool as in the north. He offered her his cloak but she casually shook her head.
"When I spent my time with the elves," she commented at length, "I grew used to the cooler weather. One of the elves actually made a prediction that I would find Gondor too warm after my time in the North, and I must admit it to be true." A wistful look passed over her face as the couple reached a large fountain that mirrored the moon overhead.
"In Rohan, the winds blow so consistently that it is strange to be outdoors with the air so still. Do you miss living in the North?" His question brought her face round and he studied her quietly.
"When I lived with the elves I couldn't keep from thinking about Dol Amroth and my family. Now that I am returned to them, I miss Rivendell so terribly that I cannot imagine why I wanted to return home. Perhaps I will never be satisfied." She chuckled to herself.
"Maybe you need to be somewhere in between the two." He began but as he continued, his words became quieter still, more private. "Rohan, for example, is in the North and close enough to both places that you could visit once the roads have been made safe once again."
She touched his arm and moved past him, her feet crunching on the gravel path. "I wonder if that would suit me." She took a seat on the edge of the fountain, dipping a finger into the water. "How are things in Rohan these days?"
"Along the east and the west trouble grows steadily like a tree on the edge of a river. I do my best to keep the people of my country safe but somehow, as if someone is able to read our plans before we even hatch them, we are outmaneuvered. Many good men have died during their time as Riders of Rohan." His thoughts went back to when he held a boy of only seventeen in his arms as the life had drained out of him after an attack.
"Dol Amroth has been fairly lucky." Lothíriel's eyes were turned to the river as she surveyed the path it took back to her home. "My father had the thought to work at keeping the sea-going villains from our shores with the construction of the Beleg Gwî. I wonder how many times we would have been sieged if he hadn't thought ahead so well." She sighed lightly, "Perhaps before we are to be wed, you could come to Dol Amroth and see it, for it is a marvel to behold."
"I doubt that I would be able to make such a trip with all the duties of a Marshal calling upon me. It took a great amount of planning to be able to make it to Minas Tirith at all, and I must be on my way back before the week's end." He watched as she sighed again, a sad look in her eyes and the corner of her mouth caused him to wonder. "Is this marriage something that you do not want? If so, I'm sure I could negotiate something with Lord Denethor." A look a fear passed over Lothíriel's face as she turned her gaze to him.
"Do you not wish to marry me? Is there someone who you have left your heart with back in Rohan?" She watched with a mix of fear and anticipation at his answer.
"My heart belongs to the people of my country but not to any individual. Is there someone in Dol Amroth who holds your heart?" She simply shook her head.
"My heart belongs to no man. I have been reminded that it is my duty to marry for the good of my country and should be honored at the prospect of marrying into your family line. I do not mean any insult to you, but I am afraid. I am afraid that should I marry you, I will lose the chance to find the one that I love. I am afraid that should I not marry you, I will lose something else even more dear to me in the present." A single tear fell onto her cheek and she lifter her hand to wipe it away.
"I know that we barely know each other, but I will promise you this," he grasped Lothíriel's hand in his own, "I will see to it that you are as happy as any woman has right to be. I will make sure you are safe and secure and in time, we will have children to hold our hearts. I will be your friend and confidant so long as you can trust me with the things that weigh your heart down."
Lothíriel looked down at the hand that held hers. A second tear fell as she imagined all the futures she had for herself. She saw a future where she was greeted by little children with lighter shades of hair than her own and seas of green and yellow grass. She imagined wandering the halls of Dol Amroth alone, not knowing the horrors her father and brothers would face on the front. She imagined meeting a man who was everything she could have ever wanted, but never being able to do anything but look at him from a distance as another man's wife.
She imagined and imagined and then, something that hadn't happened in years occurred. Without any warning, a vision came upon her. Instantly she cleared her mind and allowed it to flow through her, but she was lost in the area between consciousness and had to fight to remain sitting. She allowed nothing to exist but what she saw.
She saw a river, flowing red and black with the blood of both men and orcs. She was seeing things through the eyes of a dying orc, and the pain of the spear jutting out of her chest was almost unbearable. She saw, standing over her, the image of Théodred holding that very spear. He smiled bitterly and surveyed his victory at the river as a man came up to his side.
"My lord, we should return to Helm's Deep. You must prepare to return to Edoras for your wedding." The bitter smile became sweeter as he nodded to the man. "We will first see to it that the carcasses of these vile creatures are burned and our comrades who fell today are honored in their deaths." The men nodded, saluting their Marshal as he passed into the crowd and out of sight.
She felt her arms being pulled as she was carted towards a growing pile of bodies. As the men worked at starting the blaze, she could hear them speaking. "Can you believe that they came from Isengard? It leads you to wonder what the Wizard is doing."
"I wonder the same thing," another pitched in, "seeing as they bear the white hand on their crests and armor."
"It's only thanks to our prince that we made it to the Fords of Isen before they had been gathering here too long. Imagine, if they had been settled before the snows melting. We would have been taken completely unawares."
"I don't know," the first spoke up again, "our prince has something to live for if you ask me. I was in Gondor when he met the Princess, and I have never seen such a beauty in my life."
"Don't let your wife ever hear you say such words," another laughed.
"Is that all of them?" An older voice interrupted them.
"I think so." The first answered. With that, Lothíriel felt a searing heat and came back to reality.
The first thing she noticed was that Théodred was no longer sitting beside her, but was squatting before her, holding her steadily by the shoulders to keep her from falling back into the pool of water. "My lady?" His eyebrows were knit together in confusion and worry. "Are you unwell? My cousin who escorted you to Edoras as a child commented to my father on the fact that you had fainted after a long ride. Perhaps the day has been to stressful with all the travel you have endured."
"Perhaps so," Lothíriel agreed as she sat straighter, keeping the vision to herself. She knew from the conversation she had heard what her answer would be at that moment. "I apologize if I seem out of sorts, but I believe that I will accept your proposal." She stood with his help and he made sure she was steady before allowing her to walk about freely.
"I am glad to hear it. Rohan will be blessed to have someone like you as their future queen, I am sure." He smiled and escorted her back to the hall. The news of Lothíriel's consent came as little surprise to most in the room, especially Denethor, but Lothíriel smiled cooly at the congratulations he offered her and Théodred. The group began to converse until Denethor called for the evening to end.
"Théodred will have an early morning with me tomorrow to set about writing out the contract of their marriage. Perhaps you would be settled with an afternoon outing?" Denethor's voice spoke clearly as he shot looks at those who would interject something other than agreement. Théodred nodded.
"I believe that will be best, and you, my lady," he turned to Lothíriel, "are clearly exhausted after your journey, so you should rest." He bent over her hand, kissing it again, missing the pointed looks Lothíriel received from her family. She shrugged and looked away before bidding the prince good night and following her family out onto the streets of Minas Tirith that would lead to the Dol Amroth townhouse.
Lothíriel sat carefully on her bed and stared at the circlet in her hands. She had barely waited until her family had entered the house before tearing the thing off her head and rushing up to her room, ignoring the calls over her wellbeing. There was a knocking sound at her door, but after a few minutes of silence from Lothíriel, they left, leaving her to her thoughts.
What bothered her was the fact that she had no warning before having the vision. On the way home it had struck her that she had been wearing the circlet for long enough that she hadn't noticed the discomfort of a vision because her entire body was already feeling strange because of the white stone. She touched it warily, but it wasn't deadly cold like it always was whenever it touched her forehead. She sighed, standing and beginning to pace slowly.
So long as she wore this circlet, she would never know if she would be in danger of seeing anything. She wouldn't be able to excuse herself to allow the vision access. She had barely remained conscious when she had seen Théodred's future, and what would she have done if he hadn't been there to steady her from falling in the fountain? Imagined scenes of Lothíriel fainting again while she was at dinner with her uncle, as she walked about town, in front of the other ladies and lords of the court.
She shook her head, placing down the circlet heavily. The answer was simple. Her family had achieved its task in coming to Minas Tirith. Now they could leave. As soon as the prince left for his homeland, she would be on a ship away from this city and her uncle. She nodded to herself. She could handle a few more days with the circlet, the main thing was, that she saw an end to it.
