Chapter 5

A/N: Trigger Warning: discussion of death, implied suicide (drowning) and grief

"Amrothos, if you bring that surly animal one step closer I will unhorse you," Lothíriel muttered as she moved her mare slightly off the road closer to the trees. Her brother met her glower with his own, exaggerating the movement of his reins to steer his horse toward hers. The mare pinned her ears and gave a warning glare to his equally churlish gelding.

"Then ride further ahead," he advised with a frown.

His sister held her ground despite his horse pushing her further off the path. They rode beside Evandor and had, for the past hour, been levying their horse's sour attitudes against the need to stay in line. A week and three days into the procession and the polite dispositions and pleasantries had dissipated, especially between the siblings. They'd been traversing the narrow road of the Firien Woods, which required two or three horses riding abreast at most and they were blocked behind by a wagon. Ahead of them the Elven host separated the siblings from their father and neither was brave enough to push through the Queen's kin to change company.

"Switch places with Ev," Lothíriel countered as the bay made another more aggressive swipe at his horse. "He keeps his beast under control."

"I'd be happy to ride at your side," the Knight put in amiably, scooting his mount up as much as he dared to the horse ahead. Amrothos tossed her a glare but reined the gelding over as Evandor positioned his horse in the middle. The Princess moved her palfrey back to the road proper and the three horses walked quietly.

"I think his horse was cut too late," Lothíriel commented lightly to the Knight, which elicited grumblings from her brother.

"Well, this is just like the days of olde in Dol Amroth," Evandor replied. "Though it was usually your lord father or brother separating the pair of you."

"See, Loth. We've matured some," Amrothos called, tilting back in his saddle to catch her eye. "We needn't father or Elphir to mediate our squabbles."

"You were ready to push me off the road," she reminded him with a frown.

"Hardly my fault Faramir gave you an ill-tempered mare, though he matched the rider to the horse with magnificent accuracy."

"Fu –"

"Are we not nearly at the borders of Gondor?" Evandor inquired a little too loudly, drawing looks from the Elves ahead of them. The siblings shared a look of decided resignation behind the Knight's back before Amrothos changed his tone and smiled brightly.

"Yes, once we ford the Mering Stream we'll be in Rohan."

"And nearly to Edoras?"

"Closer now than we were a day ago."

"Four, perhaps five days," Lothíriel added with an annoyed glance at her brother. "As I overheard Mithrandir telling Master Baggins."

"I hope the crossing isn't a pain," Evandor commented, glancing behind him at the wagon pulled by two drafts. "Stream implies an easier time than we had fording the Anduin to Cair Andros."

"It may take most of the day to get these wagons across," came Amrothos from his other side. "But we have enough folks to get supplies from one shore to another, especially if Lothíriel puts her hands to work."

"I, for one, will be glad to be done with the road," Evandor commented, cutting off the woman's tepid response. "Traveling with such a host has been an experience, to be sure. But it's been a long road and we could've made it in half the time were it just us."

"It has been arduously slow," Amrothos agreed, his horse moving closer to Evandor, despite the road widening a fraction. "But for the fine company I'd surely be bored to death."

"You're fortunate Evandor has such high tolerance for stupidity," Lothíriel muttered as the line ahead spread out a bit and the trees around them thinned. She considered moving her mount up to take a break from her brother but hesitated as she would be either riding alone or amongst the Elves. As much as the folk of Lothlorien and Imladris had made the Men feel at ease with their presence and the ability to converse in Sindarian aided them Lothíriel and Amrothos shared a sense of insecurity when interacting with the Elves.

At length the horses in front of them stopped, the trio halting with puzzled expressions – they'd only just taken a break an hour before.

"Another wheel jammed?" Evandor mused, standing in his stirrups to attempt a view.

"No, a rider is coming," Amrothos stated as a grey horse divided the line ahead. Seated upon his back was the Queen of Gondor, heads bowing as she passed. Evandor and Lothíriel moved their horses to the edge of the path, leaving Amrothos on the opposite side. But the Queen merely circled her mount about and greeted them with a smile as they genuflected. The host ahead started up, the line closing once the Elf had passed.

"Forgive the intrusion," she spoke pleasantly indicating they may walk on together. Exchanging a glance the Prince's children moved to her side, Evandor silently falling behind. "I've become disinterested of my brothers' company and desired to speak with you," the Queen turned to Lothíriel with a smile. Shifting to address Amrothos the Elf canted her head magnanimously toward him. "I have been starved of conversation with another lady, save kin."

"Say no more, my Queen," the man answered with a bow, pulling his gelding back as the pair walked on, falling in beside Evandor. Lothíriel encouraged the mare to match strides with the Elf, curiosity written plainly on her features.

"I hope you do not mind the interruption," Arwen commented after a moment of silence.

"It is welcomed," the Princess replied. "I could do without Amrothos for a spell. And the company is sorely lacking in women."

"Indeed," the Queen nodded, her hands settled gracefully upon the saddle's pommel, her horse maintaining pace without guidance. Lothíriel noticed both the riders ahead and the men behind gave the pair a respectful distance.

"How are you finding the journey, Your Grace?"

"Long but joyful to be with both family and friends. There will be much sorrow upon reaching our destination. King Théoden is well remembered by Men. And Mithrandir."

"And sorrow upon the parting hour," the woman chanced, watching the Queen as she smiled sadly. If she felt the Princess was too forward she did not let on, instead nodding once.

"I do not desire to hasten that day."

They walked in silence, Lothíriel unsure if voicing her observation was indecent. She could not imagine saying farewells to her family with the knowledge of eternal separation. Arwen's visage was placid, allowing no hint of discouraging emotion to pass her features.

"I am unaccustomed to the bitterness of mortality," the Queen began again in Sindarin, her voice soft and almost tentative, her gaze on the path ahead. "And I fear its bite more than I may tell, certainly to my father."

"That seems understandable, living a life that was never expected to end."

"I do not fear my own demise," she responded quickly, glancing at Lothíriel. "I lament that my family should never see me again. That my mother…" the women were silent once more as the Princess waited for the Queen to find words. "She did not meet my husband. Did not know my joy in love. I fear she will be disappointed."

"When last did you see your mother?"

"She passed into the West four… five hundred years ago." Their conversation was shared quietly, the Queen's tone expressing her sadness but never slipping into vulnerability. She seemed to be working through her thoughts as she spoke, trying to understand. "Did you know your mother, Lady Lothíriel?"

"For a time. I was fortunate to have her in my youth. But she is gone."

"May I ask… would you tell me –" the Queen paused, now seeming to struggle with what she was trying to convey. Lothíriel spared her by explaining what she suspected Arwen was hoping to ask.

"She died just before my eighth year. Claimed by misery and, eventually, the sea."

"Misery?"

"My mother had her fifth child that winter. Another boy," the Princess of Dol Amroth selected her words carefully, unprepared to have such an intimate conversation with the Queen of Gondor but feeling obliged to share. "But she was plagued with melancholy. The babe only survived a few days, and she was overcome, then, with sorrow. Neither my brothers, nor my father, nor I could turn her disposition. She cried day and night and weakened by the hour. I do not know if it so with your people, but it is not unheard of for women to be afflicted after birth by this malady. I imagine no one expected her to have it, having birthed four healthy children without a touch of sadness."

"I know of only one of the Eldar affected by a similar disposition, but I do not think it was sorrow."

"I was too young to understand. Even now I do not fully grasp the misery in her heart. But she could not live with it."

"She took her life?" the Queen's fine brows drew together and Lothíriel frowned, perceiving judgement in the Elf's visage. She was put at ease, though, when Arwen's expression revealed concern. "That must have been terrible for you."

"I hardly comprehended the finality of death at that age. But I was in awe of the Maidens of Mercy when they came to tend to her."

"Maidens of Nenniel?"

"Yes. They attended her body when it was pulled from the sea." Lothíriel felt safer with this topic, releasing the tightness she hadn't realized she gripped the reins with and casting a glance at the Queen. "It was my first encounter with death. For years I thought I would commit myself to their order when I came of age."

"I assume you did not as you hold your ancestral title?"

"Nay. I found a love for tending the living, though… I oft think my calling is with the Maidens."

"You are faced with death as a healer. Is that not a similar enterprise?"

"In some ways," the woman agreed with a dip of her head. "But I endeavor to help the living endure. A member of the Order receives and ministers to the dead."

Her companion said nothing to this, instead thinking upon her words. It had not occurred to Lothíriel until then that an Elf would not be accustomed to such considerations. The Queen likely expected to see her mother once more and was now face with the finality of death. Empathy flooded Lothíriel's heart as she looked upon Arwen with new eyes as the Queen spoke again.

"Do you think of your mother?" Lothíriel turned to look at Elrond's daughter, surprised by the frankness of the question and the innocence with which it was asked. After a moment the Elf met her gaze, brows raising with sudden doubt. "Was that indecorous?"

"No, Majesty," the woman assured her with a smile. "I do think of her. She lives in the memories of those who had more time with her than I."

"Does it burden you that you may not see her again?"

"It isn't a burden, really. I suppose I am grateful she is not suffering. So too do I feel with anyone who passes beyond the veil. I expect they are at peace. At least, I hope it is so."

"Death to an Elf sometimes seems a gift," the Queen mused softly, her gaze drawn down. "Our Doom is fixed. Unavoidable. But for Men it is freeing. Though now that I am confronted with mortality I fear I do not know what to make of it."

Another pause. Lothíriel chanced a glance behind her, catching sight of Evandor and Amrothos laughing, their smiles warm and gazes affectionate. Settling back in the saddle the woman considered this unexpected turn of conversation, feeling ill-prepared to discuss life and death with the once immortal Queen of the realm. Surely Arwen and King Elessar had spoken about the topic? The Elf seemed to perceive Lothíriel's mind on this, looking at her sidelong with an insightful gaze.

"It is one thing to meditate upon mortality with my husband. And to speak of it with my father or brothers – I see how it hurts them to talk at length of our separation. I've not had the good fortune of a conversation like this with someone who is not intimately intertwined with my decision. Thank you for it. I confess, I had not expected such wisdom from one so young."

"I don't believe youth prohibits me from such considerations. I suspect most folk my age have similar views on life."

"Perhaps. But you have a distinctive relationship with death, owed to being a healer. And your inclination toward the Maidens of Mercy. It has been illuminating for me. I hope we might talk further sometime hence?"

"I would be honored, my Queen."

"Let us not ruminate any longer on such somber thoughts," she stated, switching tongues and smiling, "Tell me how you came to Minas Tirith and how you found your sojourn there."