The Forgotten Princess

A Ghost Returned

Lessien opened her eyes. All night she had wasted her time trying to sleep, trying to walk her Dreamworld where only she could hear her father's calls.

Her heart was still empty and her face tear stained when she awoke. Her lip was swollen from the Roc's blow and occasionally bled but that wasn't the problem. Her body had succumbed to the grief and sometimes she shuttered from all of the crying, sometimes she'd feel faint, and sometimes she'd wish it had been her who was dead in his place.

No, all of the time.

She had a hard time listening to people, it took all of her focus. Most of the time it sounded like ocean waves or the sound of her own breathing. Her vision seemed filtered and sometimes she would end up somewhere she didn't remember walking to.

Lessien got up from the stone floor, her back sore. She decided she would head to the Helm's Deep's Throne Room to discuss battle tactics with the King. She needed something to immerse herself in, something that would distract her from the pain.

Suddenly, she was in the Throne Room.

These were the sort of things she meant. Lessien remembered thinking about going to the Great Hall but she never remembered walking there.

A guard looked at her strangely. "Are you alright? You look dazed."

"I'm fine," Lessien murmured, shaking her head as if to rid the incident.

She opened the double doors and went to listen in on battle tactics and ask some questions.

She saw Théoden conversing with a man, the scout from the day of the battle. The battle. The battle where Aragorn died.

Once again, Lessien shook her head to forget and waited politely in the sidelines for her time to speak with the King. She did not have much choice but to listen in on their conversation.

"-We have other things to worry about, Rendor."

"My liege, I understand that you think it is a waste of time but if you would at least allow me to study the records. Let me into the library, grant me that at least!" Rendor begged. "Let me collect a list of names!"

This caught Lessien's attention. Why would he want names of the fallen from the battle? That only happened when they didn't bury the bodies. Left them for buzzards to feast on, left like animals. Animals.

"Honorable names, such as Aragorn's, should be mentioned in history, shouldn't they, oh King?" Lessien piped up, her voice was so full of anger and sarcasm that it seemed to frighten the king.

"Aragorn's death was an unfortunate setback," Théoden grunted.

"Setback? Setback? He was my friend! My mentor! My-"

"-Lover? I understand your grief but that is no reason to waste precious time on him!" Théoden replied. "Aragorn was my friend, I knew him longer than you! When I was a mere child! I am also greatly grieved by his death."

Lessien broiled. "I am not his lover, I am his daughter! My question wasn't if you were grieved, it was why, why, would you need a list of names of the bodies that were supposedly buried respectfully with the traditional gravestone?" She paused, her eyes glinting. "Where is my father's body?"

"All of the bodies were left behind, on my orders," Théoden replied solemnly, taken aback by the unveiling of Aragorn and Lessien's relationship.

"You're telling me you left my father's body to be stripped of his skin by buzzards? You're telling me that, even though he fought beside Rohan's Kings of Old, you left him in the wilderness?!" Lessien practically screamed.

Behind her the doors opened, Lessien turned.

The man looked exhausted, but.

Why was he here, if he was dead?