AN: This is based on the first chapter of my Brightest Stars collection, and I encourage you to check it out! That scene, adapted, will be in this story and it is where this idea began.

June 3018

"My prince, is war inevitable then?"

"It is."

Lothíriel glanced around the room, taking in the set jaws and clenched teeth, the unfocused eyes and the sharp intakes of breath. What a different outcome than how she'd anticipated her day going! When she'd landed her small sailboat after her early morning sail, she'd found Amrothos waiting for her. His pale face had her passing off the shoring line to Gierolf, the quaymaster on duty, instead of tying it off herself. She'd followed her brother quietly back to the palace where her father made no comment on her disheveled state but instead invited her to sit next to him in the council room. Yet for all the surprises that morning, none were so great as finding no one questioned her presence at the meeting, and so her first war council began.

"The attack on Gondor shows that the shadow in the East grows ever darker and nearer. We must stand by Gondor, ere we fall to the same shadow. I myself and my sons shall answer the call. Who will go with me?" Prince Imrahil declared, and nodded to the lords who stood. A few of the grayer lords remained sitting, bowing their heads to the ones who stood. Erchirion, the scribe at such meetings, made note of the lords before they reclaimed their seats.

"I thank you all for your service, no matter what capacity you serve. I thank you all also for not questioning my daughter's presence at such a meeting, and now I come to the matter of why she is here. Lothíriel." Her father turned to her, and Lothíriel faced him. "My daughter, I will not leave you silent. Nor will I leave you without a choice. Therefore, speak, princess. What do you think? Where would you serve?"

Lothíriel leaned forward, taking a breath and gathering her courage. As they'd been discussing the coming war, she'd been turning over an idea in her head. She knew her father would not idly ask her to attend such a council, and had been preparing her thoughts for when she would be called upon. Now was her moment.

"Knowing you, Father, and my brothers, I know that you and Elphir would lead the forces on land and that Erchirion and Amrothos would lead the forces on the sea. I know someone must run this household, guide the people who remain here, and sustain the city from within. Yet I do believe my sister Mithien, wife of Elphir, would be more than capable for this role. Therefore, Father, I propose a different position for myself, if you be willing. In your shipyards, the newly christened Alph Gwathren awaits her maiden voyage. Grant me command of the vessel, let me select a crew, and I shall become a privateer."

A soft murmur passed around the room, but her father's face remained carefully impassive, only the intensity of his eyes revealing his attention.

"My lady, please elaborate," one of the lords pressed her, but not unkindly.

"I shall. I know that politics can hamper the ability to move ships through regions quickly, especially a great number of ships. If I were to become a privateer, I would not be subject to such politics and by only commanding one ship, I can be used as a scalpel, going places the armada cannot. I can be used for supply runs, evacuations, transportation for secret missions, and many other such uses. That is my advice, and my request. Allow me to serve in this way. I have been sailing since I could walk. I have been taught to use the sword alongside my brothers. I can speak many languages and perform any manner of tasks; as a princess, I have learned these things. I am capable and I am strong. Are you willing?"

Lothíriel fell silent, clasping her hands together tightly in her lap. The lords would get to debate and vote, but her father would have ultimate say. But given the urgent nature of such a council, perhaps the lords would forego any such process and simply let her father decide. At any rate, Lothíriel knew that the decision would not be made lightly.

Indeed, most of the lords merely looked to the prince. A few remained thoughtful, but they, too, looked to Imrahil in the end. Lothíriel raised her chin. She would not show fear, although her heart quailed at the prospect of war. Her father's expression was unreadable. What did he think of all this? Lothíriel focused on keeping her breathing steady. At last, Imrahil spoke.

"My daughter makes an excellent argument. Are there any here who would say her nay?" Not one of the lords made any move to deny her. "Then nor do I. Princess, you are hereby charged with the command of the vessel Alph Gwathren and thusly tasked: select you a crew and report back by the end of the week." Lothíriel maintained eye contact with her father while she received her orders, her spine straightening even taller. "We shall be in recess for lunch. The lords who are to fight alongside my sons and I, report back afterwards for further counsel. Dismissed."

Lothíriel followed her brothers out of the council room to the private dining room her family used for informal meals. The three men were uncharacteristically quiet and Lothíriel began to worry they were displeased with her new job. Per the family's preferred method of taking lunch, food was laid out on a small table and the siblings served themselves before taking seats at the dining table.

"Well?" Lothíriel asked at last, unable to bear the silence any longer as she sat down with her plate.

"Well, you've certainly been your usual clever self," Erchirion offered, along with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Lothíriel's heart sank as he sat next to her.

"You are disappointed in me," she said, looking down.

"No!" Amrothos bit out and Lothíriel looked at him in surprise as he took his seat. He was not the angry one, yet his tone was terse. "No, Lothíriel. You have done nothing wrong. Do not think that we are anything but proud of the way you handled yourself in there. Your logic was sound, your advice smart, and your new position is one that suits you and our army's needs perfectly."

"Then why do you all look and sound so despairing?" Lothíriel cried, for while his words were comforting, his face was still stormy.

"Because you are the flower of the house of Dol Amroth. And we do not wish to see that flower trampled," Elphir answered, his voice gentle (despite being the angry one). Lothíriel melted at once as he joined them.

"My brothers, do you not think I feel the same way about you and Father? My only comfort is that I will be able to help! And I do not doubt I shall be far safer than you all shall be."

"That is likely. Nevertheless, the shock of the attack on Gondor will not quickly fade, dearest sister, and you must forgive us for anxiety. The watchful peace has been sundered and I do not yet know what the outcome of this war will be. Things will seem very grim for a long time, I fear. Hold on to the light and joy of your childhood, Lothíriel, when all seems lost, and your courage will never waver. You are strong, sister," Erchirion declared, putting a comforting hand on hers. Lothíriel squared her shoulders.

"Thank you, Erchi. And I will choose a hardy crew, and we shall be the spear of the armada!" She smiled at her brothers before digging into her meal. The men shared a look but smiled in return as they began to eat as well. But suddenly Amrothos broke into a laugh, his stormy expression relaxing.

"Here we thought Thíri would be running a household. Instead she's going to be running blockades!"

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

Lothíriel stood in the center of the White Quay square, hesitating. Pelingildor lingered quietly behind her, her Swan Knight bodyguard letting her think. Dol Amroth had three public harbors, the Commercial Harbor by New Port, the Working Harbor by the Middle Port, and the War Harbor in the Cove of the White Ships by the White Town. The Alph Gwathren was being moved from the shipyards to the War Harbor today and she planned to go aboard once it docked. In the meantime, Lothíriel pondered how to go about selecting a crew. The square had a pleasant hum of activity about it, with hawkers offering fresh fish to be cooked on the spot for customers and sailors going about their tasks, some preparing vessels to leave and others tidying up after docking.

"I'll start by asking the quaymaster on duty, I think. He'll know what to do," Lothíriel decided at last, feeling slightly overwhelmed but certain of her choice. Pelingildor said nothing but followed her toward the quaymaster's station. The quaymaster, Gierolf, was just exiting the small building as they approached and he bowed when he noticed her.

"Princess," he greeted. "Do you need assistance with anything? How can I be of service?"

"Yes, indeed, I do need some help, but haven't you just gone off duty?" Lothíriel replied.

"Aye, my lady, but I can still assist you. Would you care to join me for lunch? My mother used to say, 'Never solve problems on an empty stomach!'" he answered with a grin. Lothíriel was more than happy to agree and they set off for a nearby tavern. Gierolf escorted them to the Prince's Duckling, a respectable-sized establishment, so Lothíriel wasn't surprised that they ended up there.

After a pretty young woman brought them their food with a curtsy to Lothiriel, Gierolf leaned forward.

"What is it you are in need of, Princess?"

"I am in need of a crew, Gierolf. My father has given me command of the Alph Gwathren and now I must find a crew for her. But I don't know how to even start searching for such a crew."

"The Alph Gwathren… ah, she's coming in later today, isn't she? I've heard that for a sloop, she's a fast one, she is," Gierolf mused. "Well, Princess, there's a couple ways you could go about choosing a crew, but I have a proposition for you."

"Go on," Lothíriel encouraged, finishing off her entreé and taking a sip of ale.

"Take me on, and I'll select some potential mates. Then you can meet them and pick which ones you want," came Gierolf's unexpected answer.

"Why, Gierolf," Lothíriel raised an eyebrow, "What about being a quaymaster?"

"Well, there's a lad I've been training to take my place for a while now," Gierolf clarified readily. "I've been wanting to take to sea anyway, and especially after getting word about the attack on Gondor, I was planning to volunteer. Now, I'm no strategist, but I'm thinking a princess like you wouldn't be assigned command of a swift vessel without some deeper purpose. My lady, my sword and my oar are yours. Command me as you will!"

Lothíriel was touched by the traditional oath of fealty Gierolf gave and smiled beatifically in answer before giving the ladies' traditional response.

"And my honor is yours to defend." A man's answer to the oath rested more along the lines of accepting aid in defending his honor, and even in this instance Lothíriel wondered if perhaps she should add something in that vein considering her new role, before deciding she should. "Together, we shall defend our home."

Both Gierolf and Pelingildor raised their brows at this, but neither commented on it.

"Then, my lady, I shall get to work at once. What timeline would you have me follow?" Gierolf replied instead, bowing his head.

"I am to report to my father with a selected crew by the end of the week, in three days' time. Let us meet on board the Gwathren the morning of the second day. Then once I have selected the final members, we shall get right to work preparing what we will need. You, Gierolf, will be my first mate."

"Thank you, Princess."

Gierolf bowed, but Lothiriel waved him off.

"Gierolf, please. Treat me as you would any other captain. We are equals, now."

"Aye, my lad- I mean, Cap'n. But you're not like any other captain, and we are not equals. You are my princess. And I will give you all the due respect and deference, my lady," Gierolf protested. Pelingildor made a small noise of agreement and Lothíriel turned to him.

"What say you, Pelingildor?"

"Just that he's right, Princess. You are different and I know without a doubt your father would not have you go without the protection of your title. Nor would I, my lady," the Swan Knight said quietly, and Gierolf nodded vigorously.

"Well, we must have some compromise!" Lothíriel contradicted. "When I am in command, when we are under time constraints, I must be allowed to give orders and not have my crew treat me like glass!" She thought specifically of the many tutors who had protested her ability to join her brothers' studies. Her missions would not brook discussion from her crew, especially given the urgent and dangerous natures of them.

"You will, my lady," Gierolf soothed. "Allow me to offer this. At sea, you are the captain and the lads and I shall treat you as such. On land, you are a princess once more. Is this pleasing to you?"

"Furthermore," Pelingildor broke in, "Any complaints or questions can be directed to Gierolf and he can come to you in private to present them to you. A course of action can then be quietly determined and carried out."

"Very well," Lothíriel agreed after a moment's thought.

"Then I shall get to work, my lady. I'll send word if I finish gathering sailors before the second sunrise. I take my leave, Princess." Gierolf bowed once more and left, as Lothíriel wiped her mouth with her napkin before rising to leave as well. Pelingildor resumed his post behind her right shoulder as they set off back toward the palace.

"Well, Pelingildor, I do believe that was the most words I've heard you say at one time ever," Lothíriel teased softly as she wove through the Court of the Fount. Pelingildor didn't reply but she sensed his huff of a laugh and took it as his answer. It wasn't until they reached the front gate of the Court of the Prince that he spoke aloud.

"I would like to join your crew, my lady, if I may."

Lothíriel looked at him in surprise.

"Certainly, Pelingildor. I would be honored," she said. "I'm sure my father would have insisted I take a Swan Knight or three with me. I should be delighted to have you aboard."

"Then my sword and my oar are yours, Princess. Command me as you will."

"And my honor is yours to defend. Together we shall protect our city!"