Yours to Command

Preparations

You can find out how to restrain your temper.
You can learn to master your body's desires.
But you cannot teach yourself to rule your heart.

(Cemendur: Know thyself)

***

Lothíriel buried her head underneath her cushion. She didn't want to hear anything. Not the birds enthusiastically welcoming a new day outside her window, not the cheerful clatter of breakfast dishes echoing up from the kitchen, not the jaunty whistling of one of the guards on his rounds. Only her maid went about her tasks silently, her footsteps all but inaudible. Hareth had come through a fair amount of storms with Lothíriel by now.

A knock on the connecting door to the bathing room and a quick exchange of a few whispered words, then Hareth's steps again, crossing the chamber.

"Would you like your bath now? It's ready."

Lothíriel shook her head. The bed sagged as her maid sat on the edge of it. She hesitantly touched Lothíriel's arm. "My dear, do you want to talk about it?"

Lothíriel shook her head again.

She wanted to go back. Back to that morning, only four days ago, when she had woken up on a ship leisurely sailing up the Anduin, full of joy because she was coming back to the White City after her long absence. To think that she had been apprehensive about the wedding because she feared spilling wine all over the bride. Those worries paled into insignificance compared to what she had done the day before.

Hareth stroked her gently across the back. "You'll have to get up eventually, Lothíriel. Your father wants a word with you before you leave."

Of course he would. Lothíriel's rage had sustained her for the whole ride back from Lord Girion's, and fortunately her father had not pressed her for an explanation, probably wanting to wait for a more private opportunity. Once they had reached the town house she had sought out her room and refused to talk to her family for the rest of the day. Her father had let her have her way, but now he would have a few questions to ask, and rightfully so. And what could she answer?

With a sigh she let go of the pillow and sat up. Time would not stop and run backwards at her whim, but she would get through this day somehow. And the one after. And the one after that. Surely, it had to get easier at some stage.

"How much more time?" she asked, her voice hoarse. Not from crying, she told herself, but perfectly normal first thing in the morning.

"Still plenty of time to have a quick bath." With a last pat on her leg, Hareth got back up again. "And then have something to eat, for you'll need it with that long ride ahead of you."

Lothíriel let herself be led into the adjoining bathing room where a wooden tub stood ready, filled with hot water. Once she got in, she simply leaned back and tried to empty her mind of all thought, while Hareth washed her hair.

"A lovely day," her maid commented. "Sunny and warm, but with a slight breeze. Perfect for a wedding."

Lothíriel nodded. Her friend's wedding, she reminded herself, and she would endeavour not to spoil it. At least not more than she had done already, by practically accusing the bride's brother of taking advantage of her in front of the whole court of Gondor. She had to resist the impulse to simply sink into the water and drown herself. It would make life so much easier.

Hareth poured some fragrant oil into the water and Lothíriel's favourite scent of orange blossoms filled the room. But today it failed to have its usual cheering effect on her.