The Princess Crowned In Flowers

Chapter VII: A New Position and A Best Friend

Lothel stared at her Ada's back as he gazed out the glass, his hands resting on the windowsill. Not a word had been spoken between them since the questioning with the orc. At one point, the daughter could communicate with the king through her mind, but he had long since shut her out. It had been over two millennia since his voice echoed through her mind.

"Do you think it to be true, my daughter?" Thranduíl uttered disbelievingly. "That He has regained power and has come?"

The elleth felt her heart get heavy at his vulnerable tone. It was the first time she had heard his voice so exposed in so long, and it unnerved her. His defenses were still strong, but he allowed them down a fraction. "I wish it to be false, but I have reason to think he is not lying. The Greenwood is being called 'Mirkwood' by Men and Elves of other realms alike, and for a good reason. The spider attacks are becoming more frequent, orcs wander in the larger groups closer to our borders than ever before, and I don't have to tell you how the magic of the Woods has dimmed. I know you have felt it because as have I." She referred to the old magic that ran through the Royal lineage, the power that affected all first-born of the line. "This can only be the cause of great evil and darkness rising. War is on the horizon. I feel it in my bones."

Her Ada's head lowered as he contemplated his daughter's words. "Then let us be ready." He straightened, and the king returned. "Feren!" He called for his advisor and guard.

Said ellon came in from outside the door and bowed, "Yes, Ara nin?" [(My king)]

The king faced Lothel, "I, King Thranduíl, resign my spot as Head General of the Greenwood Armies. I call you, Lothel Tirnelhel, daughter of the King, Crown Princess and Heir to the Throne of Greenwood, current Second General of the Greenwood Armies, a veteran of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and Lothíriel, Princess Crowned with Flowers, to step in my place. You will handle all military operations, participate in training the troops, and oversee all movements of the Army. Know that I can nullify your decisions as a leader, but that is rare to happen. Will you answer the call and accept your new position and duty?"

The princess nodded, keeping the storm raging inside her at bay, "Im car, Ara nin." [(I do, my king)]

He drew his sword and gestured for the new general to step closer to him. She did, then knelt on one knee before him. The ruler gently struck her shoulders with the flat of his blade before crowing her with a helm. "Eria, Illadui, a gwaetog îdh an dôrenc." [(Go, General, and bring peace to our lands)] She rose and respectfully bowed toward the blonde ellon. The closer the princess looked, the more pride and sorrow shone in his eyes. She left with no other words.

*-~-*

Lothel stared at her reflection in the mirror. The Helm of the General held a similar structure to the soldiers' helmets but was more elaborate and marked the leadership of the wearer. The metal it was made of was silver, with engravings of patterns decorating the area around the cutout. On the top, metal sloped into shapes that resembled wings sticking back behind. But what caught her eye was a labradorite that had not been present before. When Lothel saw her Adar and Dâd [(Grandfather)] wearing it, there was no gem embedded. That meant...He planned on this for some time. When the elleth was younger, her father always referred to her eyes as 'living emeralds'. Her eyes reflected Calemirneth's, her late mother, green eyes, but held hints of her father's blue irises.

As she focused on the helmet itself, The Battle of the Last Alliance came back to her. The screams of Men filled her ears as they fell, cut down mercilessly by the forces of the Dark Lord. The sounds of metal clanging against metal, and the sight of her Dâd charging forth, flanked by the Elven Soldiers of Greenwood the Great. In her mind's eye, she saw his body fall; hitting the dirt with a resounding thud and blood gushing out of the very helm she beheld in her hands. The russet-colored liquid spilled across his face and stained the armor he wore. The swords Oropher wielded still lay in his hands, but his grip was loose as they sat on the ground. She could hear her Adar's screams as he cradled his father's body, begging, pleading him not to die. But his eyes. His eyes were what she remembered the most. The elleth watched as his usually sky-blue irises, fade as they rolled to the back of his head. They were the eyes of a king, ones that held sternness when needed, but mirth and laughter and kindness were the typical emotions betrayed in his pupils.