Lothíriel was startled by the new voice cutting through the quiet air.
Before she could make sense of it, her brother Amrothos stood in between them, breathing heavily and eyes bulging. He had his sword brandished and pointed at the other man's throat. Lord Forgammon stood with hands up, his wide eyes fixated on the tip of the sword, looking genuinely afraid of the Prince.
Prince Amrothos had his teeth clenched, looking like he wanted to do nothing more than cut him in pieces. "How dare you take advantage of my sister, you – "
Finally coming to her senses, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him back. "Amrothos, stop this!"
"Not a word from you, Lothíriel," he snarled at her, wrenching himself free from her hands. He did put down his sword, but it remained clenched in his hands, "you were supposed to be chaperoned for this exact reason!"
"Come now, Prince Amrothos," Forgammon spoke with all the authority he could muster, "Your sister and I are courting after all - "
Amrothos glared at him, effectively shutting him up. Without a doubt, Prince Amrothos, Grand Officer of the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth, made a formidable sight if he wanted to, even without his armour and banner. "I shall not accept a single explanation from you, you filth. Stay away from her, or I will maim you!"
"Your father-" tried Forgammon again, but he cut himself short when Amrothos took a few threatening steps closer.
"My father shall hear about this," he glanced back at Lothíriel, "all of it."
He then sheathed his sword, took hold of Lothíriel's hand, and pulled her along out of the Royal Gardens.
"You are the worst chaperone in Gondor, Lady Vanyalos!" Shouted he as they moved past where they sat. "An Orc would have been wiser in this task."
Lothíriel and Lady Vanyalos gasped in shock at his rude words.
"Amrothos!"
"Stay quiet, Lothíriel!"
Amrothos did not release her hand from his vice-like grip until they arrived at the door of their father's office. Without even bothering to knock, he kicked the door open.
Even the presence of two noblemen did nothing to temper his anger, and he merely growled at the two visitors to leave. They made themselves scarce immediately.
Prince Imrahil has stood up, alarmed by the violence of their intrusion.
"Amrothos? Lothíriel? What is the matter -"
"Your noble Lord Forgammon has forced himself upon your daughter out in the Royal Gardens for everyone to see!"
Instantly, their father's face turned grim. "Is this true, Lothíriel?"
She shook her head rapidly. "Ada, he did not force himself – "
"Do not lie to protect that bastard! I saw you push him away." Amrothos yelled. "You looked extremely upset!"
"Peace, Amrothos! Lothíriel, tell me what happened truthfully."
She sighed and sank down a chair. "We were out for a walk when Lady Vanyalos had begged fatigue – "
"She is a fraud, that duplicitous – "
Imrahil glared and told his son to stay quiet.
"So she sat down," continued Lothíriel, her eyes now fixated on the floor, "we walked on and then he asked me permission – "
Amrothos looked at her in shock. "You allowed that man to kiss you? What is wrong with you, Lothíriel? Up until a year ago, he treated you like a child!"
Prince Imrahil sighed wearily, rubbing his brow. "One more outburst like this and I shall remove you from this room, Amrothos. Do not test my patience."
He then gestured for Lothíriel to continue, who bit her lip and nodded. "And then I pushed him away when... It was enough."
Imrahil nodded in understanding and then started pacing, obviously thinking over what was best. His two children watched him walk up and down the room for two long minutes. Finally, he turned to her and spoke. "Like I said before, I need you to decide before you leave for home in two days. Considering there is already a... Physical compatibility – "
Lothíriel turned pink immediately, but she did not voice her disagreement. He did not need to know she had imagined Éomer romancing her instead of the Lord of Lossarnach.
" – and you have enough common interests, you should not need to spend any more chaperoned time with him."
She gave her agreement readily, as she did not wish for any more kisses from Forgammon.
"I do suppose you should dance with him, but a single one is enough. Your brothers will ensure that you will have sufficient other dance partners."
"Yes, Ada."
"Amrothos."
"Aye?" The young Prince raised his eyebrows, wondering what his father's order would be.
"Do not let them out of your sight. Lady Vanyalos cannot be trusted."
Amrothos inclined his head in understanding, lending his cooperation in this matter all too willingly.
With a sigh, Imrahil then dismissed the both of them, bidding them to have an early rest. As the siblings walked to their rooms, Amrothos took advantage of having his sister alone with him.
"Lothíriel."
"What is it, Amrothos?" she replied wearily, though she already knew what he was about to say.
"For Ulmo's sake, I beg you, Lothíriel! Do not tell me that you want to marry him."
"Amrothos, please just leave me alone."
"You cannot marry him, he will alienate you from us - "
"He will not!"
"Yes, he will, Lothíriel!" Amrothos exclaimed in exasperation. "He is just like Uncle Denethor! He will do whatever serves his purpose best."
"He is not like Uncle Denethor."
"Be serious now –"
"Who is like Uncle Denethor?"
Erchirion appeared from behind them and coaxed them into the Dol Amroth common room.
"That uppity bastard Forgammon, of course!" Amrothos did not see any reason to hold back apparently. "He forced himself upon Lothíriel and she still considers marrying him."
"Heavens above, Lothíriel," said the elder brother in an irritated tone that pleased Amrothos until he said the next words, "Make up your mind about him already. Minieth has been pestering me about you and him ever since she found out about your courtship."
"Make up your mind?" Amrothos hit his brother on his upper arm. "Are you fine with having Lord Forgammon embedded further in our lives?"
Lothíriel sighed deeply and rubbed her face. "Amrothos, please - "
"No, but - "
"Please, just - " She tried to interject, but even though she was the topic at hand, their brothers ignored her.
"Then tell her not to get married to that prick!"
She tried again, now getting irritated by them. "Listen to me, Amrothos! For goodness' sake - "
But Erchirion talked over her, too. "What can I tell her? I doubt she would listen to me, either. You know how spoiled she is. Why do you not just accept - "
Now she was being insulted by them!
"Erchirion, wait -"
"Accept Forgammon?! Are you out of your bloody mind?"
"Stop! Stop! Both of you, stop talking!"
With more strength than she knew she had, Lothíriel had pushed both her brothers onto the sofa seat behind them.
After falling on the seat with a soft thump, both Erchirion and Amrothos looked at her in surprise. Seeing their little sister standing over them with such a fierce expression, they promptly forgot what they had been arguing about.
Lothíriel was breathing hard now, as she tried to clear the fog of frustration from her head. She had finally gotten her brothers' attention and now they were looking at her expectantly.
"I think it is time you remember, Amrothos, Erchirion..." She said after regaining some of her calm, "that most of the men suitable for me in age and rank have died on the battlefield. If I do not marry Lord Forgammon, well that is fine... But who exactly is left to marry then?"
The Princes shared a look between them before Amrothos spoke up.
"You do not have to marry at all, Lothíriel. You are a Princess of Dol Amroth, you shall have nothing lacking. And you can count on us to look after you if the need ever arises."
Lothíriel laughed humourlessly and shook her head in disbelief.
"Tell me one thing, Amrothos," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, "when you find someone to marry your sorry arse, do you think you will mind your spinster sister?
The youngest Prince of Dol Amroth stared at his sister, dumbstruck. Erchirion chuckled wryly but sobered up when Lothíriel's glare turned to him.
"And if Lady Minieth is bothering you about me, you can refer her to me. I shall speak to her directly. Here you are, not two days engaged and already you are more concerned with what she thinks than that you care about what I am going through."
"That is not true, Lothíriel... " Erchirion's protest trailed off because he knew that she was right.
"I love you both, but I do wish to be married someday. You cannot discourage me from living my own life."
A tense silence stretched out between them as Lothíriel waited for their response. Both Erchirion and Amrothos had cast their gaze to the ground, obviously still reflecting on what she had said. The last time she had seen her brothers look so chastised and downcast, had been when they, as children, had caused Lothíriel to dislocate her collarbone during one of their forest explorations. Her heart ached to see them upset, but they had left her no choice. They still had the tendency to view her as a little girl. And though she had a lot to learn and experience, she was no longer a child.
Erchirion gestured to Amrothos and they shifted to create space for her. Then Erchirion gently clasped her hand and pulled her to sit between them.
"Forgive me, Lothíriel, I..." he said in a quiet voice, "I will support whatever choice you shall make."
With a sad smile, Lothíriel rested her head against his shoulder and squeezed his hand. "I thank you, Erchirion. You shall know of my decision the morning of your departure to Osgiliath."
However, Amrothos was not yet willing to resign. He shifted closer to her and took her free hand in his. "Lothíriel," he said in a voice low and insistent, "I swear to you that you have my respect and my love. And I swear that I agree that your life is up to you. You should definitely get married..."
He let go of her hand to run both of his through his curly hair, his agitation palpable. "But - Sister, I beg of you. Do not marry Forgammon. Please!"
Lothíriel stared at him through her eyelashes, still leaning against Erchirion. She understood how Amrothos felt and she loved him for it. If it had been that simple and easy a decision then she would have acquiesced a long time ago. Yet there was a part of her that felt compelled to perform her duties in gratitude for the privileges she enjoyed as a Princess of Gondor. The list of political and financial benefits of marrying the Lord of Lossarnach was long and it concerned not only her own life but also the lives of the common folk who would obtain access to resources unique to the respective fiefdoms.
Erchirion squeezed her hand again, hoping to provide her some solace. He was warm and solid, and for a spell, she felt young again, of an age when physical affection with her brothers was natural and routine.
But she was of age, and burdened with the reality that she too, like Elphir and Erchirion, would eventually have to marry for the sake of her title. With a resigned sigh, the young woman sat up and slightly shook her head. "Amrothos, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but unless a better suitor comes along, he is the best option for me."
Amrothos let out a frustrated groan and pulled at his curls with both hands. Muttering under his breath, he let out a string of Dol Amrothian swears until he suddenly froze.
He sat up again and snapped his head towards her. "A better suitor, you say?" He echoed.
"Yes?"
He squinted his eyes. "A match better than Forgammon?"
She cast her eyes to the sky, annoyed by his inane questions. "Yes, Amrothos."
He stood up, abruptly. "Better than –" he laughed and then gasped, comically. "I need to go."
"What?" She stared at him, confused. Erchirion too, looked at him with interest.
"No, no. I need to go now. Now. What time is it? No. It does not matter." He adjusted his cloak, ran his fingers through his hair, and straightened his jacquet. Then he kissed his sister on the forehead, patted Erchirion on the shoulder, and briskly walked out of the common room.
His siblings watched him go, only mildly confused. Amrothos had the tendency to surrender himself to whatever whimsy came to his mind at the moment. Lothíriel and Erchirion knew better than to ask questions.
Lothíriel had not been able to sleep until the first rays of the sunrise broke through the dusky horizon. The entire night was wasted on forcing herself to decide Lord Forgammon. When she finally got up and dressed simply, she had come no closer to a decision than she had been the evening before. Or even in the past three months, if she was being truthful to herself.
After heaving a deep sigh of resignation, she left her room and had breakfast at Merethrond, which was fully decorated for the feasting tonight. Lothíriel always appreciated the quiet breakfast she was able to have in the early morning, as very few of the people who demanded protocol were present.
Erchirion was there, sitting with his fiancé and a matronly-looking lady as their chaperone. After a quick greeting, she decided to sit alone and finish reading her letters from Aunt Ivriniel and Merry while she had breakfast. There was also a short letter from Feruion, the retired Swan Knight who had been at her side since her mother passed away.
Sir Angrenor, her current Swan Knight was as always guarding over her from a proper distance. She would be under his protection until the festivities started in the afternoon, as Imrahil deemed that there were enough people present to ensure her safety.
She did not mind always having a guard. Indeed, they looked after her in ways that were not burdensome, but sometimes she could not help but feel belittled. As if she could not be trusted to keep herself safe.
Perhaps she would ask Éowyn to teach her some fighting skills fit for a lady, she thought absently as she finished her last bites and stood up to leave.
Then she made her way to the Houses of Healing, hoping to spend some time with the Warden, as she would be leaving soon again. She still had much to learn from him, and she wondered how knowledgeable he was in the use of mushrooms in healing potions. That thought reminded her of Lord Forgammon and her mood soured once more.
"Who do we have here?" said the Warden the second she set foot in his private office. "The Princess Herbalist, well met! Come in, come in."
"Well met, Warden Bair. How have you been?"
"All is well, my dear."
Lothíriel settled in the chair opposite the Warden as he continued to write something in a ledger.
"Lady Siloril has not yet arrived. Is everything well?"
She nodded. "Yes, Warden Bair. They have experienced some delays on their way here, but I expect them to arrive around noon tomorrow."
"She is quite fragile. It would have been better if she had stayed in Minas Tirith throughout her pregnancy. All this travel, it cannot be good for her."
Lothíriel stared at the ground for a moment, recalling the many arguments Siloril and Elphir had had regarding this topic over the past few months. "Yes, well... It is fortunate then that she will remain under your care for the last two months."
"Indeed, indeed."
In a comfortable silence that was routine between a master and his student, Lothíriel waited for the Chief Healer to finish his task.
"The Houses of Healing are mostly vacant," said he when he was done writing and had closed the ledger, "but I expect some drunk people tonight and tomorrow morning, requiring attention to their scrapes and needing hangover cures."
"All the Healers and their assistants have returned to their offices in the City?"
"Aye, I expect the rest of Minas Tirith to get in similar states. Perhaps they will be better off than the nobles, perhaps worse..." He trailed off, deep in thought.
"Is there anything I can help you with, Warden?" She asked, already feeling restless in her inactivity.
The wise and experienced Chief Healer knew that the Princess was looking for something to keep busy with, hoping to be of use to anyone just so that she would not have to pay attention what was going on in her mind. Roughly one year ago, it had been the fear that she would lose her father and her siblings, but now that peace had been restored, the Warden wondered what was troubling her.
"We should make a supply of hangover potion, I suppose. Will you help me with that? Is there a Dol Amrothian recipe for that?"
She smiled and replied, "I just add some red panax root extract to the recipe used in Minas Tirith. Do we have that in stock?"
The old man hummed thoughtfully. "I think so."
The pair of them set out to gather and measure the ingredients for a massive batch of hangover potion in preparation for tonight. Lothíriel then sterilized the phials while the Warden double-checked his calculations, before they set up their workspace.
Ten minutes later, the liquid in the cauldron was simmering softly, releasing a earthy smell that irritated her eyes. They had made great progress.
"Tell me what is on your mind, Princess," the Warden said while carefully weighing dried blueberry powder, "you seem to be troubled by something and I am willing to dispense some wisdom."
A small, wry smile came on her face and she shook her head. "It is a delicate matter, Warden Bair, and though I need advice, I cannot share the details."
He nodded thoughtfully while he continued his work. "Not to sound my own trumpet, so to speak, my dear, but I am quite apt in saying the right thing even when I do not know the finer things of a situation."
He obviously wished to know, thought the Princess with amusement.
"Very well, if you insist, I shall tell you to the best of my abilities." She put down the crock of mountain salt that she had fetched from the storage and turned to him.
"I have a choice to make that will change my life for the better if I accept, but I do not know if the improvement will be long-term or short-term. And if I do not accept, life will continue on as of old, but I might miss out on the enrichment of it in the long term."
"Hmmm, much uncertainty, no doubt. And do you truly possess the power to decide, or is it an illusion of choice?"
"I very much have the final say."
"Will it affect other people's lives if you choose to accept?"
"Aye, but mostly mine."
"I see. And how long have you the time to decide?"
"I need to decide before noon tomorrow."
"Is that all the time you have been given, Princess?"
Lothíriel sighed. "No, I have had about three months to decide..."
At this, the Warden stopped his work and turned to look at her wide-eyed. "Princess! Such indecisiveness."
Dropping her gaze to her hands, she bit her lip in embarrassment. "I know, Warden Bair."
"Why, I do not think I need to hear anything else from you to give you advice."
She looked up, curious.
"I shall give you some universal advice, one such that I apply when faced with a patient who is unable to decide to take a more invasive treatment for the sake of survival. My dear," he paused with gravitas, "anything other than acceptance is refusal."
For a moment she stared at him as he smiled, proud of his own profound words. Then she frowned. "I do not understand. How can I apply that to my own situation?"
The Warden shrugged. "How about I give you an example? Perhaps you can learn from that. One day a man was brought to me, a very serious case. Both his legs had been crushed under a falling rock and they were beyond saving. If his legs were not amputated, he would succumb to his injuries and die. When I told him this, he said he did not want to spend the rest of his days as a burden to others. His loved ones insisted that they would take care of him, urging him to undergo the amputation. So he agreed, but he kept asking me to wait another day. Unable to force him, naturally I kept delaying the procedure. Three days passed and by then the infection in his body had become incurable. When I told him that it was too late for amputation, the man smiled and thanked me for my care."
Lothíriel stared at him, baffled. The Warden was a strange man and even stranger were his tales. "What happened to him?"
"He died, of course, you silly girl!" The Warden began scooping the mountain salt into a bowl, while the young woman stared at him in horror.
"What a horrid tale! How does it apply to me? My decision is not so grim."
"All the better for you, then! So now you know what to do."
She sent him a look of consternation. "Do you mean... Amputate or die?"
"Precisely!"
Lothíriel placed a hand at her brow. "I cannot make heads nor tails of this. However, I thank you nonetheless for your effort."
With an obnoxious twinkle in his eye, he leaned close to her for a moment. "Think about it, and then you will know your own mind."
"Aye, sir, whatever you say," she replied, brushing aside his words as an old man's folly. "Now, I am going to add the final ingredient to the hangover cure." And she stirred the red panax root extract into the large cauldron.
"Go ahead and have a taste," he said, "it should be ready now."
Lothíriel took a sip and groaned. "Oh, heavens above. It is positively disgusting."
"Excellent. This will replenish their bodies with much-needed nutrients and discourage future excesses."
Lothíriel laughed softly. There was no actual cure for a hangover, but the drink did help the person with their recovery.
"If there is nothing else I can help you with, Warden Bair, then I shall – "
A knock interrupted her. A servant came in, but after noticing the presence of Lothíriel, he froze in his tracks.
"Come on in, Master Egdir. Do not mind her."
Shedding his reticence, the servant walked up to the Warden and whispered something in the old man's ear.
A strange look crossed Bair's face and he met Lothíriel's questioning eyes with a twinkle in his.
"I believe, my dear Princess Herbalist, that you and I have somewhere we need to be."
