The Rose and the Rider [Third Age, Post-War of the Ring]

A Horseman Approaches

It had been nigh on a week after the long night ended when a horseman on a wild-eyed destrier flew through the gates of Dol Amroth, nearly trampling the stable hands, calling urgently for the Princess. The clamor drifted to the window of the tower where the Princess Lothiriel sat, far above the Court of the Prince, though she did not move. Her grey eyes surveyed the horizon to the east, as she wished for the far sight of her uncle, Denethor. Dawn had finally come, but she knew not what that meant for Gondor.

Behind her, she heard the door to her chamber open with a hesitant creak. "My Lady?" came a small voice interrupting her thought.

Within her mind's eye she could almost see the kind, heart-shaped face of her lady's maid peek around the door, the dark days of the War had made her timid, a veil of darkness now lay over their previously easy relationship. "Yes, Hithmeril?" Lothiriel answered without breaking her gaze out the window.

"Word has come from Minas Tirith..." Hithmeril did not have the chance to finish her explanation. At the first word of a message, Lothiriel flew from the window, a spectre of flowing black hair and rustling raiment of sapphire silk, like the depths of the sea which could be seen from the tower's west-facing windows.

Taking the scroll with nimble hands shaking, Lothiriel broke the seal and scanned the parchment eagerly. "My father and brothers live!" jubilant, she embraced Hithmeril tightly, "Oh, they live! This is verily a cause for celebration." Her embrace loosened as she continued to read the letter over her lady's maid's shoulder, "Hithmeril, it says that a King has come out of the North. I am to travel to Minas Tirith to join my father for the coronation in little more than a month. Oh! They have destroyed the Lord of the Black Land and all his realm! This is good news beyond hope!" Lothiriel released Hithmeril, who was beaming. "Quickly! This messenger should be housed in the Great Hall and fed at once. A feast of victory shall be held tonight for all, and I will need your help in packing. There is much to be done!"

Hithmeril scurried from the chamber in a bluster. For the first time since the Dawnless Day there were tasks to occupy time instead of mere languishing. Lothiriel leaned far out her window and spoke in a clear voice which echoed around the city, "People of Dol Amroth! Today is a day of cheer -- the Black Land has been cleansed! Prince Imrahil lives! And the King has returned to Gondor!"

Cheers rose merrily to her ears.

---

Leofric was a Man of Rohan, an errand rider of their newly crowned King, Eomer. He stayed in Dol Amroth with high honour within the Great Hall until the Princess was ready to ride forth. Leofric was well-loved around the city for bringing the joyful news of the end of the Dark Lord and Prince Imrahil's safety. He was especially welcome at the tavern, where he had his fill of mead and regaled swooning young ladies with his tales of valour. Lothiriel found the rate of his rumored conquests unseemly, but her father had warned her about the appetites of soldiers fresh from battle. She had underestimated the draw of this exotic Rohirrim amongst the women of Dol Amroth, however, if the stories passed around the city had any merit. Upon the road, robbed of the free-flowing mead and women of the tavern, it was Hithmeril he had swooning with his recounting of great deeds in the battle fought upon the Pelennor.

Lothiriel traveled with a small honour guard as well as her lady's maid and the young Rohirrim. Although the road was now much less perilous, some Orcs had scattered and thus escaped the razing of the Black Land. Though small now in number, they could cause mischief were Lothiriel to travel completely unguarded. She glanced over ruefully to where a laughing Leofric rode alongside Hithmeril, who had eyes only for him; with as inattentive as Hithmeril had been as her Lady's Maid thus far upon this journey, she could have done without one altogether. Though she could not wholly fault Hithmeril, he was a handsome man -- the same light eyes of her people, but hair the color of straw which blew in the wind now that he rode without helm and a broad face which seemed as like to smile as frown, very unlike the grimness of the men of Gondor -- and he possessed an almost feral nature, passionate and quick to loose his tongue; as the red light of Anor shone on the gleaming armour covering his broad shoulders, Lothiriel could see the draw he might have on a sheltered young woman. It was sweet watching the beginnings of their courtship, though it nearly left her short a maid. Hithmeril's cheeks were flush and her eyes, timidly downcast, glittered with joy from the horseman's attentions, it warmed Lothiriel's heart. She just hoped the rumors of his indiscretions were unfounded, or at least exaggerated, and that the Rohirrim was honourable, Hithmeril was a gentle soul and her secluded life in the Court left her vulnerable to romantic manipulations.