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Chapter Text

Rough fingers stroked over a small soft face, tracing the plump curve of  a baby cheek.  They  danced along the tiny button nose, over a curved ear, and up  through a mop of dark black hair. A tiny sigh escaped the rosebud mouth and the babe snuggled contentedly into the crook of the arm the cradled it. Dark  eyelashes fluttered as they opened  to peer out at the world around, latching briefly onto a blurry face far above it. A dainty hand instinctively  clamped around  one of  the rough fingers and  squeezed  hard.

“Oh, Ivriniel, she’s perfect,” a rough voice murmured.

“She is…” an exhausted voice replied.

“To think that we would be so blessed at our age.”

“Yes,” the tired voice chuckled, “We are very blessed.”

“Perhaps we might  be so  lucky to have another?” teased the first voice.

“I think not!” the second gave a watery laugh, then more seriously, “The midwife said this she was a miracle, but it won’t be possible again.”

“Ahh…but we have her and that’s all that matters.”

“Yes.”

“Almariel Tinwe.”

“What?”

“Our blessing, our star.”

“Ahh, sounds lovely, quite a mouthful though, dear.”

“Just Almariel then,” chuckled the deep voice. 

“Mmmm,” hummed the lighter, tired voice, “Yes, our dear Alonniel.”

A hand reached out and stroked the top of the babes dark thatch of hair, then to the imperceptibly pointed tip of one of two tiny ears. A chuckled burst forth,  “There’s that little bit of truth to the old tales about my family.”

“Well, just means that she’s going to look like her mother,” he leaned in for a kiss.

“Just as long as she gets your eye-lashes, they are wasted on you…”

The infant snuffled, discovering something that it had never experienced before, hunger. Her hand let go of the finger it had been holding onto and waved around in a frantic  manner, finally  slapping into the firm chest of her father. She whimpered, the her little face screwed up and  she let out a mighty scream. She was not a fan of this new world of hers, and she was going to let everyone know it.

Chapter Text

“Mariel!”
A snicker burst out of her mouth, covered by her hands, as she cowered behind a large rose bush. She could hear her cousin, Erchirion, stomping through the gardens along one of the many paths.
“Three, two, one,” she whispered.
“AHHHHHHH!”
She winced, the smirked.
“Mariel, Lothiriel, I’m going to string you up by your braids when I get to you!” He hollered.
She snickered again, peering through a gap in the rosebush to see if she could catch a glimpse of her male cousin. He was almost nine years older than her, and for the most part could be called a serious youth set upon devouring the contents of the castle library like an aged scribe. She and Lothiriel enjoyed drawing him out and into their games, which oftentimes got just a little carried away for his taste.
Ah, there he came round the bend in the path, covered in a bright gooey concoction that she and Lothiriel had come up with after their raid to the kitchen pantry earlier that morning. To that goo had been added a delightful array of chicken, goose, and quail feathers, making him look like much like she could imagine one of the famed ostriches from Southern Harad she had read about in her lessons last week. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles because of the goo, and his face was a bright shade of beet red. He was muttering to himself as he stomped along, trying to brush off the feathers that had gotten stuck to his tunic via the goo while looking around him warily at the same time.
“Seriously? You’re going to wish that you hadn’t dumped this stuff on me, Father is going to be furious when the delegation arrives in a few minutes and I’m not presentable.” He sighed, reaching up to his face, but thinking better of it when he realized his hands were covered in the goo also.
Delegation? What delegation? She wondered, then about screamed. Not that delegation! She ditched her spot among the roses and booked her way through the garden towards the side door, hearing Erchirion bellow behind her. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she skidded around a corner, then dashed up a set of side stairs. How could she have forgotten that the Haradrim delegation was supposed to arrive today? Her mother had talked about it vehemently for the last two and a half weeks to her father, going on an on about how untrustworthy they were, etc. It was very important for Dol Amroth, and for Gondor, that this meeting went off without a hitch, which meant that all royal persons had to be presentable and down at the palace entrance when the two o’clock bell tolled over the bay.
Glancing up at a clock on the wall as she passed, she put on another burst of speed, rounding another corner a bit fast on her slippered feet. She had less than ten minutes to wash her mud streaked face and change into a gown that didn’t have the remains of her and Lothiriel’s concoction on it, and get down to the entrance. She was going to be cutting it close. She heard another set of steps pattering behind her, then a nervous giggle as Lothiriel slipped past her into her own room, an equal look of panic and concern on her pale face. She smiled over at her cousin, winked, then slipped into her own room to quickly change into her next best dress and matching beaded headband.

***
Tripping over themselves, the two of them barely made it to their assigned places next to their parents before the bell tolled. Looking over at her cousin, they nodded at each other silently agreeing that it had been a close call. Schooling her face, Mariel pasted on her “it’s a royal function” smile and tried to stand as straight as possible. She felt her mother’s hands smoothing down her headscarf and straightening the headband that kept it in place.
“You just made it, screawa(shrew), were you busy causing trouble?” She whispered.
“Naneth!” Mariel hissed, pushing away the hands that continued to smooth wrinkles and straighten her clothes.“Why must you use that horrible nickname?”
Her mother chuckled, “Because you are a busybody, full of energy and spunk.”
“Nane-“
“Hush, child, here they come.” A hand came to rest upon her shoulder, and she turned towards the gates, expectantly.
And my did she have something to look at, as each pair of horses trotted through the gate there was an overwhelming array of colors and sounds. Men wearing brightly colored turbans of turquoise, magenta, and orange rode through, golden earrings and bangles jingling like little fairy bells with each step of they're mounts. Their mounts, which her eyes were immediately drawn too were large, black beasts with wild, excitable eyes and high steps. They were strong and agile, and yet built for speeding across dry desert sands. She admired their long necks and angular faces while sighing as she watched their smooth gait as they hurried up to the stairs that led into the palace. The horses were dressed as brightly as their masters with purples, golds, and bright lime green saddle blankets and colorful tassels hanging from the reigns and bridles. Her eyes soaked up the view, her ears completely ignoring whatever was being said on the steps of the palace between her grandfather and the men who had dismounted. She was so completely transfixed that it took her mother’s sharp finger jabbing her in the soft part of her side to snap out of it.
Blinking, she made sure that she wasn’t standing their with her mouth open as their guests stepped in front of them in greeting. The first was a tall young man who looked to be a few years older than her cousin Erchirion. He had a long crazy main of curly black hair that was partially braided to his scalp in neat little rows till it reached the back of his head where is cascaded down to meet his muscular shoulders. His eyes were a very deep brown, almost black, and unnerving. She gulped.
“Greetings, Princess, Lord Jerome, Princess Mariel, it is a pleasure to be here in this remarkable city,” his words, though flattering, had a subtle ring of distain which made Mariel shiver. His eyes fastened onto her face, and she froze, captivated by his dark, fathomless, eyes. It was unnerving, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly about them made her feel as if she was being watched by some sort of predator. His grin twisted into more of a smirk, which was gone in the next moment when Ivriniel gave him a frosty smile of her own.
“Why, you must be Prince Abdul,” she said, grinning like a cat playing with a mouse, “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I’m surprised that your father let you travel so far from home, considering all of your brothers remained behind.”
His smile grew strained, and a throbbing vein popped up on his forehead, “Yes, he felt that it would better serve me as the next in line to the throne to gain experience in diplomacy, along with getting acquainted with our neighbors. My brother’s are all still quite young.”
“I’m sure-
“Ahh, Abdul, you’ve met the alluring Ivriniel, who among women there is none to compare,” a booming voice called out as a large, fat fingered hand clamped down on Prince Abdul’s shoulder, giving it a warning squeeze. The hand was followed by the body of a tall, but rotund body of a man, his long black beard curling over his ample tummy. “I do so wish you had consented to my father’s offer of marriage all those years ago, you would have been a swan among the geese of my harem.”
Mariel looked closely at her mother’s face and saw her flinch minutely at the remark, an almost haunted look coming into her eyes, but it was quickly washed away with a kind, if not wary smile. “Ebrahim, such a delightful coincidence, I wasn’t informed that you were coming along with this delegation.” She turned to her husband, laying a slightly shaking hand on his muscular arm, “You remember my husband, Jerome?”
Jerome gave the man a smile that bordered on threatening, placing a hand over his wife’s, his strong fingers wrapping around her thing, delicate ones.
“Why, yes! Yes, I vaguely do, it has been so many years,” Ebrahim said, smiling as if nothing was wrong.
Mariel looked pensively between her parents and the plump man, wondering what the story was behind the strange behavior she was seeing. It was very odd, she scrunched her nose and a small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as she cocked her head to one side.
“Father?” Came a soft, uncertain voice from behind the prince and Ebrahim.
Ebrahim turned, a genuine smile blooming on his chubby face. In the next second a young boy around her own age was gently pushed in front of her. “This is Bashar, my firstborn son.”
The boy was tall for his age, and gangly, his long arms and legs making him look rather like a young foal who was unsteady on his feet. He had a mop of black hair that fell into his eyes, which he seemed to find comfort in hiding behind. Behind the curls his eyes twinkled brightly, a bright forest green that made them stick out in his dark brown face. Those eyes kept darting to something being Mariel, which she couldn’t see, full of curiosity and wonder. He had a kind smile, one that she assumed would easily break into a musical laugh.
“Hello,” he murmured, just above a whisper.
“What was that, son? We couldn’t hear you,” his father’s stern voice seemed to jolt him out of his daydream and he stood up a little straighter.
“Forgive me,” he said with a small bow, “It is a pleasure to be welcomed in such a grand house. May the One grant you many blessings.” He bowed again, then smiled uncomfortably.
“Yes, yes, cousin, such a lovely place,” Abdul muttered, rolling his eyes.
Mariel smiled at the boy, “And may the Valar bring many blessings to you.”
Her mother placed her hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her closer, “Well, it is nice to meet you, Bashar, we hope that you enjoy your time here in Dol Amroth.”
The boy nodded, and went to open his mouth, but another, louder voice spoke first.
“Come, let us show our guests to their rooms and allow them to refresh themselves before the evening meal, we do not want to overtax them when they have already journeyed much these past few weeks.”
Mariel would always wonder how her grandfather got his voice to carry so efficiently over such a crowd of people and still be heard, it never ceased to fascinate her. Turning with her parents, she fell into step between them as they ushered their guests through the door. She caught the eye of her cousin, Lothiriel, and grinned. It was going to be an interesting next couple of weeks. She was excited.

***

And it definitely lived up to her expectations. The children were mostly put out of doors, or herded away from the adult conversations and discussions, which gave Mariel and her cousins the ability to get to know Bashar. Prince Abdul rarely joined them, but when he did he constantly berated and talked down about Dol Amroth and its surrounding neighbors. If he was not complaining or stating his opinion on this or that thing that was in fact so much better in Harad, he was staring silently at both Lothiriel and Mariel, which was unnerving. They were very glad when he did not join in their play.

***

One sunny morning, a week after the Haradrim had arrived, Mariel was skipping through the garden, running her finger along the leaves of different plants and humming to herself. She tried to mimic the dancing that she had seen at the ball that had been held the night before…which she had been put in bed early for, but had snuck down the stairs on stockinged feet, Lothiriel following closely on her tail. The elegant steps and twirls had entranced her. Closing her eyes, she twirled, then bent her knees, trying to imitate the movement that had reminded her of a waving willow tree, and then stood up on her tip toes while spreading her arms elegantly out to her sides, then bringing them in. She giggled, her musical laugh echoing around the garden, bouncing off the walls and fading away. She skipped, did another elegant twirl, almost tripped on her gown, caught herself, coming to a stop in front of a flowering dahlia plant. Leaning forward, she sniffed the flower before reaching out and picking a few and weaving them together with some of the ferns and ranunculus that were nearby. She twisted the final flower into place, connecting the two sides, the lifted it up to rest upon her head.
Giving a little jump of joy, she continued her meandering, adding in little spins, twirls, and reserved jumps as she continued along, no destination in mind. So lost in her own world, she didn’t notice the dark shadow that followed after her, watching her every move. Dark eyes followed the graceful movements of her arms, the elegant twirls, and the gentle leaps across the garden, till the small figure stopped by the lily pond. Silent steps brought the intruder closer, till he stood just behind her, watching her intently. Twirling around after retrieving a lily, Mariel gasped.
“Oh, oh, my,” she smiled nervously. “I didn’t hear you, Prince Abdul.”
He grinned, and she shivered, not sure how to read the hungry look in his dark, snake like eyes.
“I’m sorry that I startled you so,” he said, but his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic.
An awkward silence followed his insincere reply. She shifted uneasily, feeling like a small rabbit cornered by the much larger fox. Hoping to break the strange, heavy laden silence she lifted up the flower she had plucked from the water.
“Would you like this lily?” she asked, unsure what else to say.
His grin grew even more fox-like, hungry, as he took the flower, “I would, I would enjoy all your flowers.”
He took a step closer, causing her to retreat against the raised stone lip of the lily pond. The backs of her thighs bumped against it as she tried to get as far from him as possible, her breath coming in soft, yet quick, pants. He advanced another step, leaning down over her to the point that his nose touched a lock of her loosely curled hair. He inhaled deeply, then reached out a hand to tuck the stray curl behind her ear, his white teeth glinting as he smiled even larger. She shuddered, then narrowed her eyes at him, angry that he was making her feel helpless.
“Leave me alone,” she growled, using the both of her hands to push at his chest, all the while her heart was pounding a mile a minute in her chest.
“I don’t think so,” he said grabbing her wrist and drawing her closer to him, eyes flashing, “You’re just too tempting.”
She pushed against him, glaring, “I said leave me alone.”
He chuckled as she pushed against him, the evil youth, enjoying her struggle, “I’ll never leave you alone. One day you will be mine, and maybe that pretty little cousin of yours too.”
She froze, Lothiriel’s face flashing before her minds-eye. Dear little Lothiriel who was such a light and joy to all those around her. She glared up at him, an evil smirk growing on her face. “I don’t think so, neither of us will ever be yours.” She raised her knee and rammed it up as sharply as she could into his crotch.
He gasped, pain exploding in his eyes as he doubled over, his hands releasing her wrists. She then punched him in the eye with her fist before turning and running as fast as she possibly could towards the door that entered the palace, her feet not moving fast enough for her liking. Tears streamed down her face as she heard him call after her.
“One day, one day you will be mine, otherwise your family will suffer, mark my words, I will see it done!”
She shuddered, fleeing as far from him as she could get, before coming to an abrupt halt as she bumped into something solid, and soft. Looking up she burst into another bout of tears, throwing herself into her father’s arms.
“Mariel, buttercup, what’s the matter?! Why the tears?”
Abdul’s words would come to haunt her in the years to come.

***

“He WHAT!”
“That’s what Mariel told me,” Jerome’s voice stated tiredly.
“Well, he can go shove it up-
“Darling!”
“Or go jump of the cliff,” she muttered, eyes flashing angrily.
Hers were not the only ones flashing. Four other sets of eyes were equally as angry, faces set in a grim line. Adrahil, Imrahil, Elphir, and Erchirion all were seated within the private study that belonged to Jerome and Ivriniel, various shades of red blotching their hardened faces.
“I can’t believe he would say such a things, and to a nine year old? It’s completely inappropriate!” Imrahil growled.
“I feel about ready to run the brute through myself,” Elphir state, fingering the handle of a long dagger contemplatively, his other hand clenching and unclenching.
“We’d never betroth either of the girls to him, especially with them being so young,” Adrahil stated tiredly, running his wrinkled hand through his white hair. “Besides that, to even discuss it with the girls is a breach of etiquette, I don’t care if the same thing has been brought up in our meetings with Prince Abdul and his councilors, he was out of line.”
“I don’t think that he saw a problem with it,” Erchirion stated, looking thoughtful, but no less angry, “From what his councilors stated, and from what little we know about their customs, girls as young, or younger than Lothiriel are betrothed to men ten or fifteen years older than themselves, if not older than that,” the last part he muttered barely audible.
“That’s still not an excuse,” Ivriniel stated, crossing her arms over her chest while looking pensively out the window at the raging sea that crashed up against the cliffs of the bay. A fierce storm had swept down the coast that afternoon and into the evening, matching the mood of those gathered.
“No, it’s not,” a comforting hand came to rest on her shoulder. Looking up, she stared into the face of her aged father, fear evident in her eyes.
“Will it be like when I was a young woman and they visited?” She whispered, closing her eyes to banish the memories. “Will Mariel and Lothiriel have to go through the same experience I did?”
“No,” Adrahil stated firmly, a steely look coming into his eyes, “I have already told them that a chance at a betrothal with either of the girls is out of the question, but they may push for it in the coming years if we cannot find something else that will be equally as desirable to them.”
“But will they have to deal with the constant fear that they might be snagged by someone in a dark alley, or hunted down like a stag?” Ivriniel asked, tears threatening to spill.
“No,” Jerome stated, “We can take them to live at our manor in the hills until this all dies down,” here he looked at Imrahil, “If that is agreeable to you.”
Imrahil rubbed a hand over his face, “I have no disagreements, once this Prince Abdul and his councilors leave. I don’t want them to learn where the girls have disappeared too if they happen to decide to send another diplomatic envoy. Hopefully they can return without having to fear anything.”
“We will still be vigilant, but I believe they will be safe,” Adrahil agreed.
“So we will leave in a fortnight?” Jerome asked, looking between his wife, who had a distant look in her eyes, to his brother-in-law.

Chapter Text

Seven months later…

“Come on, Lothiriel, I’m sure your pony can go faster than that!” Cried Mariel, urging her larger steed on as they sped up the hill.
“Calliel can go plenty fast, just not on such hilly terrain,” the now seven year old yelled up at her cousin, also urging her pony to pick up it’s pace.
“It’s so much fun to ride fast, though,” laughed the nine year old, practically dancing in her saddle, “The lower mountain tops are sure to be covered in snow after last nights storm.”
Lothiriel shivered beneath her fur-lined cloak, flexing her small hands in their wool mittens. She had forgotten that her uncles land was so close to the white mountains, hence the larger amounts of snow. Dol Amroth got snow, but it typically was only a dusting here and there since it was rarely cold enough to keep it solid. She was enjoying getting to play in it, but she found that given the choice between Dol Amroth and the warm sea breezes there and here at Halmond’s Hall, she much preferred her home in the palace. Either way, it was fun to get to experience the amount of snow that there was available, and the cheery yuletide under the cold star-y night. What she wouldn’t trade for the warm sands of her favorite beach at the moment though. Mariel seemed to pick the chilliest mornings to go out sight-seeing on her father’s land.
A gleeful shout roused Lothiriel from her wandering thoughts and her eyes flicked up to the top of the hill where she could see her cousin pumping the air with her fist. She rolled her eyes, how could someone get so excited about a little snow? Urging Calliel on, she came up even with her cousin, trying not to be to exasperated that her cousin had pulled her out of her warm room to come look at a snow-topped mountain.
She folded her arms across her chest, “It doesn’t look any different than the last time you dragged me up here,” she huffed.
“But it does!” exclaimed Mariel, pointing to a lower slope, “See, that one didn’t have nearly as much snow as it did last week.”
“Yes, but why? Why was it so important that we come look at it again today?”
“Because,” her cousin smiled at her mischievously.
She lifted an eyebrow, looking like a miniature of her father when he wasn’t impressed with the reason that one of his children had given him for some prank or another that they had committed.
“Because I know that cook got in some of that coco stuff again that she used to make us hot chocolate at yuletide, and I know that if we come in looking all cold and chilled from a ride she’ll definitely make us some!” Mariel stated, trying to look as serious as possible, but failed as her excitement bubbled up and out of her stomach.
Lothiriel licked her lips, pulling her hat further down over her ears, remembering the sweet, silky richness of the drink that they had tasted for the first time a little more than a month ago. “I suppose that coming all the way out here isn’t so bad, then…”
Mariel’s grey eyes twinkled, her giddy smile becoming contagious. Lothiriel grinned back.
“Let’s go then! Race you back to the stables!” Mariel cried, whipping her pony around and galloping back down the hill at full tilt, whooping and shouting the whole way. Lothiriel grimaced, turning her pony around and guiding the animal down the snow covered slope. How Mariel was able to practically gallop down the hill without having Snowwind slipping was beyond her.
Once she reached the bottom she nudged Calliel into a fast trot, gaining on her cousin as she followed in the shallow prints that they had left behind from their previous ascent. She let out a whoop when she drew even with her cousin, flashing Mariel a wicked grin as Calliel put on another spurt of speed, shooting them ahead by a few paces. Mariel gave a surprised shout and started shouting encouragements to her pony. The small hooves of their ponies pounded rhythmically against the snow-covered valley, the happy shouts of two children ringing out against the surrounding hills. It was a beautiful day to be alive, if not cold.

***
Mariel reveled in the warmth of the hot mug, taking a deep breath of the steaming hot liquid as she sighed with enjoyment. Looking over at Lothiriel who also held a steaming cup of hot chocolate, she took in the sight of her cousins damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead.
They had handed their mounts over to one of the grooms after giving them both a couple of sugar cubes that she had secreted into her pocket earlier that morning. The cubes had been a little crumbly, but the ponies had enjoyed them nonetheless. After that they had started across the lawn towards the side door that led to the kitchens, but had somehow ended up in a full on snowball fight that resulted in them both being fairly wet when they had eventually made it to the kitchen. Cook had tutted over the puddles that were accumulating on her floor, but had given them a loving grin after divesting them of their cloaks, thick overdresses, mittens and the like. Their boots had been slipped off and stuck in front of the massive fireplace that took up one wall of the kitchen. It had many metal hooks and arms holding different pots filled with aromatic liquids that wafted through the kitchen, that had sent the girls stomachs growling.
Cook had plopped them down at one of the tables that was close to the fire, throwing a blanket over each before whipping them up a big sandwich, sighting the need for good, solid food before giving them the coveted hot chocolate. They had watched her measure this and that ingredient, listening to her chatter about different spices, and how else they were used. After that she had pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket and proceeded to open another cabinet in the kitchen, withdrawing a decorative metal tin about the size of a small pitcher. She had measured out the strange, unappealing brown powder, mixing it into her already simmering concoction over the fire.
Mariel felt that this time the hot chocolate tasted even better than when they had drank it during Yuletide. She took another sip. It was a bit sweeter, and at the same time there was a strange spicy after-flavor which reminded her of one of her father’s spiced wines that he let her have a couple sips of when her mother wasn’t looking. It was delicious.
Click, click, click.
Mariel turned her head from the mug, looking back over her shoulder and smiled. Her mother slipped into a chair beside her and leaned over, kissing her cheek.
“Your father’s hunting group should be arriving back later today, one of the pigeons returned earlier this morning with news that they were a couple hours out.”
“Do you think he got the stag that he’s been tracking for the last four years?” Mariel asked, taking a sip from her mug while watching her mother from the side of her eye.
“Maybe? Who knows?” Her mother chuckled.
“I think he has, otherwise why would he be coming back this early? He’s never gone less than a four days when he goes hunting with his friends.” Mariel stated, thinking of the magnificent stage that she had only seen once while out riding with her father along the border of the woods.
“I think your father hesitates to take it down,” her mother whispered conspiratorially.
“Why would he do that Aunt Ivriniel?” Lothiriel piped up.
“I think it’s because he can’t help admiring an animal who has constantly gotten away from him, out maneuvered him, and left him completely befuddled.”
“But why would that make him want to shoot it less?” Lothiriel asked, an eyebrow quirked in confusion.
“Who knows the minds of a men,” her aunt replied.

***
“Come on, Mariel, you know that you need to finish this set of division tables and this one of fractions before you can wait at the window for your father,” Lydia, her governess stated, tapping her finger on the two sheets that Mariel had been staring at without seeing.
Looking up, she put her most pathetic face on, “Really? Do I have to? He’s supposed to be here soon. Couldn’t I finish them after he arrives?”
Her governess raised a thin eyebrow at her, “You really think I’m going to fall for that? You’ll be out that door and I won’t see you in the school room till tomorrow morning. Now finish them up.”
“Hummmphf.” Mariel huffed, turning her eyes back to the sheets of paper with her tables on them. She hated math. It was her least favorite of subjects and just confused her to no end. She had been walked through the extremely simple maths not once, not twice, but three times before she had actually gotten the hang of it. She blamed that mostly on her previous governess who insisted that she could figure out the word problems without too much help since she was such a good reader. It was only after her parents had discovered something unsavory about her then governess that she was replaced with Lydia. And what a change that had wrought in her ability to understand what the numbers were supposed to be doing instead of having to puzzle out a word problem and figure out what it was asking her.
She plugged away at her sheet of math problems, her tongue sticking out to one side of her mouth as she focused intently, trying to get through them as fast as possible. The division wasn’t as hard, it was the fractions that made her slow down and take extra time. Too many numbers mashed all together.
Now, three-fifths divided by one half was…she pulled at a lock of her hair, twirling it between her fingers. Flip the one-half, then change it to a multiplication sign, then multiply it…that makes the answer…six-fifths, then put it into a mixed number…and…oh, one and one-fifth. She smiled, then moved onto the next problem, her lead pencil scratching out the problems in slow succession.
Across the table, Lothiriel worked on her own set of math problems, though much simpler than what Mariel worked on. She was twirling her hair in a similar fashion, but had more of a gleeful look in her expression. Ughh, Lothiriel loved math, like actually was excited to sit down and work on her sheet of problems everyday. Mariel shuddered, how could someone love math so much? Now, if it was reading, of any kind, even her geography lessons, or poetry, that she would do more than willingly. She could sit for hours absorbed in her books, escaping to lands far away, learning about dwarves, what little knowledge there was documented on them, or of the elusive elves, (she’d always wanted to meet an elf, seeing as how her family’s origin had come from them. She wondered if that’s why her family tended to live so much longer than others), or dive into a book of fairytales from Far Harad about genies and thieves. It was distracting just thinking about her books.
Shaking herself from her wandering thoughts she focused back on her math problem, finishing it with another scratch of the pencil before setting it down with a flourish.
“All done?”
“Yes! May I watch for my father now?” Bouncing up and down in her chair.
“Yes,” Lydia chuckled, then handed her a book on the early history of Gondor, “Just finish the three chapters that you were assigned this morning while you’re waiting.”
Mariel snatched up the book and turned running to her favorite window seat in the school room. She curled up on the padded seat, snuggling into the many fluffy pillows before taking a look out the window. A few snowflakes were falling, covering the muddied courtyard below in a fresh blanket of white. She flipped open her book, turning the pages till she came to assigned chapter, “The Addition and Building of the Catacombs in Minas Tirith.” And so she slipped into the dry, yet slightly fascinating history of the Minas Tirith catacombs, reading about the king who had commissioned the different frescos, and ornate stone etchings that decorated the walls of her ancestors burial place.

***

“Doooootooooo, doooootoooo!” Came the sound of the hunting horn, echoing through the valley.
Mariel dropped her book and hopped into a standing position against the large glass window, pressing her nose to the glass as she peered out into the fading light. She grinned when she saw the small specks that must be her father’s hunting party in the distance, the lights of their torches bobbing along the path. He was almost home!
Jumping down she gave a joyous shout, “Father’s on his way, I can see their torches!”
Then, not waiting for her what her cousin or governess said in reply, she ran out of the room. Taking a very quick detour, she snatched up another winter coat from her closet, slipped her feet into her now dry pair of boots, laced them up quickly, before continuing down the winding stairs to the main floor of the keep. She found her mother not far from her, pinning her cloak over her warm wool dress in a similar hurried fashion, her black hair covered in an elegant wool headscarf, kept in place by a fancy embroidered band. Ivriniel smiled down at her daughter as they both hurried to the main entrance to the keep, taking her daughters smaller hand in her own, slightly wrinkled one.
“I wonder if they got everything that they were hoping to,” her mother murmured, giving Mariel’s hand a squeeze.
“I hope Father got a few geese, my favorite quill is almost gone, I’m going to need another one soon,” she replied, practically dancing through the snow that had accumulated on the ground as they hurried to the gate of the encircling wall of the keep.
Her mother chuckled, “Been practicing more penmanship than usual?”
“Lady Lydia has had me practing in both Sindarin and Westron, and has even thrown in a couple days of Rohrimm, though I don’t know why,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. Another one of her disliked school activities. Bleh, penmanship.
“You have a very elegant hand, my dear, you just have to learn to apply yourself-oh, they just crested the last hill, look!” Her mother pointed to the hill about sixty yards from the gate.
Her father’s large hunting horse, Maxum, came trotting down the hill with a cheerful “clip-clop” muffled in part by the snow. He raised his hand to wavy, a large smile on his face as the rest of his party followed behind him carrying the prizes from their trip of the backs of their horses, or pack ponies.
“Ho, ho, there are my ladies!” He his voice carried over the breeze.
“Father!” a joy-filled cry, then a more panicked scream, “FATHER! FATHER!”
Time felt as if it slowed as she and her mother leapt into action. Her eyes were trained on the prone figure of her father, lying on his side on the ground, unmoving. Tears sprang to her eyes as she dropped down beside him, pushing him over onto his back with the help of her mother. His eyes stared up into the cloudy grey sky, blank, lifeless, his one hand clutched limply to his chest.
“Father! Father wake up!” she cried, voice trembling.
“Jerome. Jerome? Jerome!” Her mother wept, coping her hands to his still face, her tears falling and smashing on his weatherworn skin. Her thumb stroked his cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen, trying to reason with what she was seeing. “No,” she whispered, her hand stroking the greying strands of hair along his forehead, “No, no, no, no!”
Seeing her mother’s distress, Mariel began to wail, clinging to her father’s chest, clutching his hand in her own, taking deep breaths, trying to burn the smell into her mind. Pine. Horse. Sandalwood. Wine. “Father, come back,” she whimpered, closing her eyes and snuggling into his chest, wishing that he would wrap his arms around her, holding her close, his breath tickling her ear.
A cruel voice echoed in her mind, repeating over and over again, “Your family will suffer! Make my words!”
She snuggled into her Father’s chest, a tear dropping onto the embroidered swan of his tunic, guilt eating away at her mind.
“Please come back…”

Chapter Text

Numb. Dull. Dead.
That was how she felt, if that was a feeling. The wind blew loud and cold, howling through the keep, causing the bits of snow to swirl in delicate spirals. But even the sight of one of her favorite things could not bring a smile to her face as she stood next to her mother, dressed in black. Her small hand gripped the larger one, giving squeezes back and forth as if to reassure themselves that the other was still there, still alive. Her tiny hand in her mothers looked nearly as white as the snow that covered the ground at their feet. A vast contrast, the black of their mourning clothes and the pure, unsullied white of the fresh snow that had fallen the night before.
Assembled around them, huddled in tight groups, was her family. There were not many on her father’s side who attended, some distant second or third cousins of hers, most of whom she had never met. Her Grandfather, Adrahil stood next to her mother, an arm wrapped around her fragile looking shoulders. His white hair contrasting with his dark clothes, even the bright silvery swan that typically shone brightly on his ceremonial robes was missing, stitched all in black silk thread on a velvet background. His wrinkled face looked tired, worn out.
Her cousins clustered around their father, Uncle Imrahil, looking much more sober than she ever remembered seeing them. They sent her sympathetic glances, the boys undoubtable remembering another funeral that had happened on a cold day years before. Lothiriel was crying, snuggled close to her father’s side, her pale face red and puffy. They looked wilted under a heavy weight. Her uncle wore no expression at all, but she could read the grief in his eyes, could see that he longed to reach out and hug them, drawing them all into his warm embrace.
There were no more tears from Mariel. She had cried and cried after they had laid her father on his bed, the keep’s physician having been called to examine him. She had thought it silly to have the old man look at her father, since it was obvious that he was already dead. Why try to diagnose a cold body. She had sat there holding his hand, trying to comprehend how her father, so alive and cheerful one minute could be so still and silent the next.
She and her mother had been inseparable, clinging to each other in their grief. She had barely remembered when she ate or slept, just living in the constant state of shock for what felt like an age. She remembered the servants all weeping, and giving their condolences, telling their mistress how sorry they were. It had made her cry more. Her father was loved by all. If anyone had ever doubted that he didn’t care for his servants or wasn’t fair in his ruling over the estate, the amount of people, lower and upper class, at his funeral proved that. He had never put much distinction on difference in station, treating his tenants with the same respect that he treated those of a higher station.
But none of that mattered now. He was gone.
The priests slowly pushed the bier into the crypt, laying her father’s body next to those of his father and grandfather before him. Then, between the three of them, they rolled the great stone over the opening, sprinkling it with pine needles, pieces of burning sage, and dirt. Then they placed a flagon of wine, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of honey in front of the stone. More sage was set aflame and laid in a bowl beside the offerings. The priests began to chant a prayer in Sindarin, the words flowing over the mourners.

“Give rest, O Eru, unto your servant,
and appoint him a place in paradise;
lead him on paths of light,
to his final resting place.”

Then they began to cry, beating their chests, and pulling at their hair. This went on for a minute, then two, before the head priest placed a hand to his chest, then raised it to the sky. Unfurling his fingers, he blew on his hand, as if releasing the soul into the air to be led away by one of the Valar. He then looked over at Mariel, nodding his head.
Taking a deep breath, her childish voice rose, singing another short song to honor her father, her voice shaking with each word.

“For bam nedfere naeni wyrbeb bances snotera, bonne him bearf sy to gehicgenne aer his heonegange hwaet his gaste godes orbe yfeles aefter deabe heonon demed weorbe.”

A single tear slipped down her face as she turned into her mothers side, guilt washing over her. Her mind wandered back to that garden, to the dark eyes that had stared down at her. She wondered again and again if she should have resisted Abdul like she had, the Haradrim had strange ways, and many said they used dark magic, it was completely possible that he had somehow cursed her and her family without her knowing. Why had she so flippantly disregarded what he had said? She had forgotten all about the words they had exchanged over the past few months living in her father’s keep, but now she wondered, should she have been more careful? Should she not have told her parents what he had said? Would her father still be alive if she hadn’t?

***

With the burial complete, most folks went their way. Her grandfather, uncle and his children all remained at the keep to spend a week of mourning with them. Mariel spent many of the next days vacantly staring out a window, not even tempted by the books that her governess, Lydia, would present to her. Her mind kept replaying her father’’s moment of death again and again, each time the voice of Abdul would taunt her, threaten her, till she would pass out from exhaustion or one of her cousins came to sit with her and chatter to keep her mind busy.
***

“Nooooooo!” Mariel jumped in her bed, waking from a deep sleep. Shaking, she rubbed her eyes and looked around, sure that she would find Abdul lurking somewhere in her room, his dark eyes glinting maliciously. She gave a shuddering sigh, before laying back against her pillow and staring at the ceiling. She had had the same dream over and over again since the day of her father’s funeral, and nothing seemed to be able to shake it. Not moving back to Dol Amroth, taking up their rooms in the royal wing once again. Not getting to learn to sail with her cousins, or spending copious amounts of time reading in the palace library so that she wasn’t thinking about her loss or Abdul’s threat. They had continued to come again and again.
It always started out that she was running through the garden, dancing around before being caught in the arms of Abdul. She could smell the scent of citrus and cloves, then he would lean down towards her, his face mere inches from hers, his breath fanning out and caressing her eyelashes. Then he would try leaning closer, she would struggle, and he would growl at her.
“Don’t fight me,” he would say.
And she would keep fighting him, struggling against his strong grip and listening to him laugh. In an instant he would flip her around, her back against his chest as he pointed towards something in the distance. She would watch with bated breath as her father would stumble towards her, a pained look on his face. His greying hair was always matted, and he looked like he had lost weight as he teetered towards her, hand outstretched.
“Mariel!” Her father’s deep voice would call, a pleading look in his eyes as he looked between her and Abdul.
“Father, Father!” she would cry, struggling harder against Abdul till he finally released her.
She would run as fast as she could away from him and into her father’s arms to blink and find herself laying on his unmoving chest. Then she would scream and rail against him, telling him to wake, and that all would be well. He never replied.
Abdul would always be lurking behind her, whispering in her ear, “If you had just listened to me, if you had just been willing, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Then he would grab her and she would wake up.
Twisting a strand of hair around her finger, she willed herself to breath slowly, closing her eyes as she listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs of the bay. In…and out. In…and out. Slowly, her frantic breathing returned to normal and she opened her eyes. Everything would be okay, there was no one here that could harm her, and her mother was in the next room over. With the calming, repetitive sound of the waves, her heart settle beneath her breast as she hugged herself. Slipping from the bed, she wiggled her toes into a soft pair of slippers, her favorite ones, and drew her shawl from the chair beside her bed, wrapping it around her thin shoulders.
She pattered across the floor, and eased the door to her bedroom open, stopping to listen for any other movement besides the guards posted at intervals, or walking their rounds. Nothing. Tip-toeing out the door, she let it click shut behind her, muffling the sound with her hand. Without making much of a sound, she made her way through the vast halls of the palace, and slipped into the library. She grabbed a candle off of the shelf by the door, lit it with a match, and held it up high as she trotted through the many shelves of scrolls and tomes. Like a knight on a mission, she walked up and down the aisles, reading the spins of the books, and the little notes on the metal plates that were screwed into the shelves beneath the piles of scrolls. Finally, she came to a stop before a very small section of books on magical things. Not knowing where to start, she picked the first one that she could reach and walked out from among the shelves. Her feet drew her towards the large windows where the light of the moon shown down illuminating a cosy sitting area, a desk to one side, and a large table on the other. Ignoring these seats, she walked past them to a small bench set into the windowsill and plopped herself down. It was not nearly as comfortable as her seat in the school room at Halmond’s Keep, but it had a descent cushion for her rear to perch on. Leaning back, she began to read.

***

The book, “The Nature and Effects of the Use of Magic,” while interesting, was not what she had been looking for, and so, since she couldn’t sleep, she had gone back and retrieved another book from the section on magic. And another. And another. They were filled with fascinating information, but nothing that she could connect to what she felt must surely be a curse or something similar. She skimmed through the books as quickly as she could, but if she didn’t find anything, she simply skipped to the next book. In all likelihood she would have continued if not for her Grandfather who walked out between the shelves with his own pile of books carried under one are just as the sun was rising in the east.
“And what are you doing up so early?” He stopped, noticing the large stack of books that sat on the floor, reaching to the top of her seat, “Or rather, has you up so late…” he set his own stack down on the desk and came to look over her shoulder. “Hmmm….’Water Nymphs, Mermaids, Sirens, and the Magics Associated with Them’, sounds like an interesting read, oh, this one sounds fascinating, ‘The Life and Works of Grimbold, a Wizard in the 23rd Century.” He looked down at her, a white bushy eyebrow raised. “What is all this about? You weren’t ever fascinated with this topic unless it was involved with a fairytale you were reading.”
She tried not to blush, letting her hair hide most of her face, embarrassed with being caught. “Well…ummmm…I’ve been having a dream…”
“Oh, a dream? What type of dream?” Her Grandfather asked, genuinely interested, “My own grandfather had dreams that would often come to pass, not often mind you, but it was always interesting to hear about.”
“I’m not sure it’s that type of dream…” she said, looking up into his wise eyes.
“Well, have you learned what type it might be?”
She sighed in frustration, her hands clenching into fists, the nails leaving little crescent moons on her palms, “It sounds like it must just be a dream, nothing I’ve read, and that hasn’t been very much, has seemed to point towards just a normal dream. But it’s got to be some type of prediction or something. I just sense it.” she grumbled at the end, rubbing her tired eyes.
He laid a hand on her shoulder, “Well then, why don’t you tell me this dream of yours and see if I can figure it out, I do happen to have a lot of experience.” he teased, stroking his thinning beard contemplatively.
“Grandfather!” she chided.
“What? I’m old, and I’ve done and seen, and dreamed much in my ninety years,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair with stiff fingers. “No come,’ more seriously, ‘Tell me about your dream.”
And so, after a few false starts, she was able to convey what she had dreamed and the terror that she felt upon waking each time. Her grandfather listened with rapt attention, humming when she said something that seemed important. He held her hand as she told him the terrifying emptiness that always begun the dream, and squeezed it comfortingly when she told him about the threatening manner of the prince. He squeezed it very tight, painfully so, when she mentioned the way he spoke at the end, the image of her father’s still chest frozen in her mind.
Finally, when she had finished everything, with some tears, he gathered her into his arms. She snuggled into his warm body, feeling somewhat exhausted having relived the nightmare all over again as she retold it. His hand stroked her long hair as he rested his chin upon her head. She felt safe for the first time since her father had died almost nine months before. There had been so much change and uncertainty in the days and weeks after he had been laid to rest that had left her floundering like a drowning animal. Her mother had withdrawn into herself and seemed so very distant compared to her normal demeanor, providing little assurance that they would make it through this season of their lives.
The hand stroking her hair stilled, and she jumped, blinking her eyes open. She must have started to doze off. A finger turned her face upwards, and her Grandfather smiled kindly down at her.
“I don’t think you need to worry about your dream, gwinig. I think that this is the way your mind is trying to process what happened. It is unlikely that Prince Abdul actually cast a curse upon you or your family, I’m sure that he’s not a wizard or anything like that.’ he kissed her forehead, ‘Unfortunately things like this do happen. Accidents, or someone comes down with an illness and passes away. It’s the nature of life. You can’t have life without death.”
“But why? My father’s wasn’t that old. You’re much older and are still alive,” she replied, leaning back and looking at him questioningly.
“Yes, but not everyone lives the same amount of time. Only the Valar know how long we will live, and there is nothing we can do to change that. There is always a hidden reason for everything that happens, even if we can’t see it till years later,” He comforted.
“What do you think the reason for Father dying was?” she instantly asked.
Her grandfather shrugged his shoulders, “Perhaps to teach you to persevere even when life asks hard things from you or to learn to find joy in the sorrow and bring light to the darkness of grief. Or perhaps you will be able to speak to someone else and comfort them when they are grieving because you have had a similar experience. Who can say? Life is full of possibilities.”
“But-
“But nothing, I think it’s high time you went to bed,” he said, scooping her up in his strong arms as if she weighed nothing. She could feel the muscles in his biceps tremble, but he didn’t put her down as he walked through the shelves to the entrance of the library.
Figuring that it would be silly to fight his decision, she snuggled into his chest and sighed. Her eyes grew heavier with every step, surrounded in her grandfather’s love, she felt at ease. Before she knew it something soft was beneath her head and a light, feathery kiss was placed upon her head, a whisper of, “Rest well, my child,” and she remembered no more. Nor did she dream.

Translation- Before the necessary journey, no-one will be wiser in thought than he needs to be, to think, before he goes from here, about what of his spirit, of good or of evil, will be judged after his death-day.”
gwinig-little one, or little young one

Note-
The first twelve-ish chapters of this fanfic are story building, and for the way my mind works, necessary to the character building of Mariel. We will get to meet our other main character around chapter thirteen, give or take a chapter. I’m almost finished writing chapter sixteen, but my goal is to go through each chapter before posting it, and also having a beta read through it and suggest changes.

Chapter Text

Mariel leaned her head against the glass of the cool window, tracing the drops of rain down the pane with her long, slender finger. She longed to be out in the practice yard riding her new horse, Lindel, across the jumps, or riding through the waves by the beach. But, here she was, trying to be a somewhat cheerful companion to her equally despondent mother. Though, her mother had other, more legitiment, reasons for her melancholy.

Her mother had been like the rolling waves of the ocean, sometimes calm, other times raging, or forlorn. Most days she seemed to be fine, up and about attending to different duties, showing Elphir’s new wife what was involved with the many different tasks of running the Palace. On those days she seemed to slip back into her old, happy self. But, Mariel had often caught her staring off into space more times than she would care to count, a vacant, empty look in her eye. Then, on days like today, when it was raining, or overly cloudy, her mother would descend into sadness, her hands still in her lap as she stared into the flickering flames of the fire. It was hard for Mariel to comprehend how her mother could go from cheerful and exuberant one day too silent and melancholic the next. She couldn’t remember a time that her mother had ever been like that in the past.

Her mother had always been cheerful, yet practical. She knew that something could just not be changed, so why cry over spilled milk? Just clean it up and move on. They had spent many a happy day roaming the country around the Hall, picking flowers, foraging for mushrooms, or just staring up into the cloudy sky and describing what they saw. Ivriniel had been full of life and song, bubbling over with joy. Her father would describe them as two sprites that brought a thrill to his days. Many of the other women her mother’s age had looked and acted much older, more reserved, which had only made her mother laugh when it was mentioned that she wasn’t acting her age.

Now, though, she acted much older. And looked it too. Wrinkles that hadn’t been there before appeared on her face, hands, and neck. Her hair, which had only been sprinkled with grey, like fairy dust, seemed to have turned completely grey overnight. The youthfulness that had once been her most praised feature had slipped through her fingers.

“Mother, would you like me to read for you?” she asked, picking up the book that they had started to read through and discuss last week. It was one about crops, which she had never had too much of an interest in since she assumed that her father would always be there and in charge of their land and its produce. She still only remembered half of what they talked about, deciding to fill her mind with other, more interesting topics.

“Not today, dear,” came Ivriniel’s tired voice as she shifted in her chair.

“Then would you like to play Tavli? Or chess? Or I can run to my room and get the new one that Uncle got me for my birthday, Tab?” She offered.

“No, I think I’d like to work on our tapestry today,” her mother stated, moving over to sit in front of a large piece of cloth that hung from some poles and had different parts marked out in chalk, a basket of embroidery floss sitting beneath it.

“That sounds delightful,” Mariel replied, trying not to grit her teeth as she seated herself at her mother’s side. She would rather mend her clothes, or that of her cousins, then work on this tapestry. But, her mother was adamant. Picking up a needle, she threaded the white floss through, and continued working on the tail feathers of the swan that was at the bottom right of the tapestry. Her mother’s quick, efficient fingers flew over the thick fabric, the silver thread glinting in the light from the fire. Ivriniel loved making and embroidering tapestries to give as gifts, or just to hang on the wall to keep the drafts out of each room.

“How have your lessons been going with Lindel?” her mother asked, finally seeming to wake from her somber mood that had been present that morning when Mariel had walked into the room.

“Well, according to Avrone, he says that my seat will continue to need some work, but that Lindel and I seem to communicate well without overusing my heels or squeezing with my knees,” she stated, glad to have something to talk about with her mother.

“Good, just remind him that you need to learn how to ride side-saddle as well as astride, you’re going to be a young lady soon and it would be unbecoming of you to continue riding astride,” her mother commented.

“Must I? It’s so uncomfortable, and unsteady, no matter how well I am seated,” Mariel pleaded, “I much prefer riding astride. Why I’ve even heard that all the women in Rohan ride astride, and wear tight trousers beneath their dresses to keep themselves modest! Might I do that?”

Her mother huffed, “They are not as civilized as those of us here in Gondor, child, and lack the elegance and decorum that we do. Best not to dwell on it, dear.”

Mariel rolled her eyes as she finished off a stitch, “Father would have let me continue to ride astride,” she mumbled beneath her breath.

Her mother stiffened, and Mariel felt like a heel. She should have known that today was not one of the days to speak of him, but it had slipped out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, laying a hand on her mother’s arm.

Her mother’s lip trembled, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I know he would have, child, but he isn’t here now.” she leaned over and kissed the top of Mariel’s head, “But he would be very proud of you and how far you have come. He did always have a soft spot for you and your riding abilities.”

Mariel nodded, remembering when he had presented her with her pony at age four. Her mother had almost been furious at him since she felt that Mariel needed to be a bit older before she started those types of lessons. She could hear her father’s voice echoing in her mind reminding her mother that he and his father before him started learning to ride younger than four. Her mother had relented, but felt as if her baby was growing up far too fast for her liking.

“Here, dear, start this section and use the gold thread here and here,” her mother pointed to the sections next to the tail feathers that she had finished while lost in thought. She nodded, taking up the thread offered before continuing onto the next part of the stitching.

***

A couple of weeks later, the early spring rains having let up, and Mariel was able to entice her mother down to the beach for a walk among the tide pools. Ivriniel was known to love the beach at this time of year, and had perked up at the invitation instantly. It saddened her family that she didn’t think to go down herself, but had to be invited, so out of it she was at times. Her cousins had instantly asked to join them, offering to make a picnic of the outing which was readily agreed to.

And so, here they were, walking along the edge of the beach, climbing down among the rocks to get to the pools. The wind still had a bit of a chill to it, but the sun was warm against their skin. There was laughter, and shouts of excitement as they found different shells or items of interest. Mariel couldn’t hold back the child-like wonder that she always felt when she found a particular fascinating shell, or piece of coral that had been washed in with the tide and deposited in the pool. She eagerly clambered through the rocks to the different pools, searching for shells to add to her collection, waving back to her mother who sat on a plush carpet beneath a canopy erected by the menservants before they had arrived. She was smiling, looking happier than Mariel had seen her in a long while.

It was a good day.

“Mariel! Look at this conk shell!” Lothiriel’s voice carried up to her from a tide pool farther down the beach, a pink conch shell clasped in her raised hand.

“That’s incredible, Lothiriel!” She shouted back, lifting a small scallop that had some blue and green stripes on it. “Look what I’ve found!”

Lothiriel grinned, giving her a thumbs up before wading into the next pool.

Amrothos hopped down beside her, making her squeak in fright before splashing him with the water. He laughed, giving as good as he got. It didn’t take too long before they were both soaked and had to clamber back up the rocks to dry off in front of a fire that was roasting some fish for their lunch meal. Mariel continued to wind her way through the pools, adding shells and rocks embedded with different fossils in them. When her bag was half full of odds and ends the bell that was to signal the lunch meal began to ring up and down the beach. Stuffing one last shell into her bag, she turned and scampered back over the rocks to the canopy. After nearly tripping over her sodden hem, she plopped down next to her mother, who chuckled.

“Find some fascinating items?” she asked, fixing her daughters headband and scarf that had become askew during her romp up and down the rocks.

Withdrawing a couple from her bag, Mariel placed them in her mother’s hand, “I found a common fig shell, along with two Tritons trumpet’s, these are the most intact ones that I’ve found in the pools so far. The other’s that are on my shelf have pieces broken off of them, so I’ll probably get replace them with these.”

Her mother turned the shells over in her hands, admiring the patterns on the shells and the ridges that flowed like ripples of water over the surface. “Have I ever told you about the time that I found a long-spired star?”

“I don’t think so? Was it during one of your escapades that you roped Aunt Findulas into?”

Another chuckle burst out from her mother, “It was indeed, and it was quite the escaped, if you ask your Grandfather.”

A plater of fish was set before them, another filled with different types of dried fruits and nuts set next to it, before a couple of napkins were placed within reach. No one moved to eat as they all had stilled when Ivriniel had commented on her shell finding escapade. She looked up and around, suddenly unsure if she should share.

“Come on, Aunt Ivriniel, I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad,” Amrothos encouraged, gaining an elbow from his elder brother. “It can’t have been nearly as exciting as when Erchirion and I borrowed-

“Stole” Erchirion butted in.

“Borrowed, one of the visiting lord’s war horse’s when we were children,” Amrothos finished, glaring at Erchirion over his shoulder.

“It was probably not as bad as that, but close,” Ivriniel laughed, “But I don’t think I should tell you, it might give you all bad ideas…” she trailed off dramatically.

“Come on, Aunt, you’ve got to tell us now, we’re all holding our breath!” Lothiriel pleaded, hands clasped at her chest, head tilted to one side, looking like a pathetic puppy begging at the kitchen table for some scraps.

“Well…it was many, many years ago…”

***

“Did you really borrow Grandfather’s horse and ride up the coast to that beach?” Mariel asked later as they were preparing for bed in their shared dressing room. The brush stopped running through her hair, to begin again a second later, running down to the ends and starting all over again.

“Yes, I did, and more than once, just don’t tell your grandfather, he never knew,” her mother whispered, leaning around Mariel’s head and kissing her cheek.

“I wish I could be that brave,” her daughter stated, looking perturbed in the reflection of the mirror.

“It wasn’t brave, dear, it was utterly foolish,” another kiss to the other cheek as the brush was put away. Her mother’s long fingers quickly separated strands of Mariel’s black hair and began to braid it down her back, tying it off at the end with a velvet ribbon.

“I suppose, but I don’t think I would have the gumption to ride in the dark alone in order to get anywhere,” she pulled the braid over her shoulder, the color a sharp contrast to her cream colored linen nightgown.

“Perhaps, but it was a lot safer back then to do such things, I wouldn’t want you to have to do that now, even with how well you can ride. Now, off to bed, my love, rest well.”

“Goodnight mother, my the valor bless you sleep,” she kissed her mother’s cheek, gave her a quick hug, and slipped through the door to her room.

***
That day spent at the beach was the last day in which Ivriniel was so animated and talkative. The days following she fell deeper and deeper into her melancholy, staring aimlessly out the window and not even acknowledging those around her. She ate less and less, and began to take on a sickly look. Most days Mariel would take her lessons to her mother’s sitting room, doing her book work and reading while sitting at her mother’s feet before the fire. She tried to engage her, talking on an on about the different topics they were discussing in history, literature, and the sciences. Every now and then, an awareness would come into her mother’s eyes and she would seem to take more of an interest, but many days passed much the same. Ivriniel either slept, or sat lethargically looking out her window at the road that led away from the palace.

Empty. Vacant. Lonely.

When Mariel wasn’t around, both Adrahil and Imrahil tried to engage with their daughter and sister, trying different tactics to break her from her silence. Nothing worked, and soon they gave up trying. The spring slipped into summer, the heat rolling up from the south, and still there was no change in their beloved Ivriniel. Mariel and her cousins spent much of their time playing among the waves, searching the tide pools, and riding through the meadows and small woods that surrounded the city of Dol Amroth. They visited the merchants stalls, looking over the unique items that came from all over Arda, shiny rings made by the dwarves, carved animals from the settlements of men around Mirkwood and those in Dale. There were silks from Harad, new colors of dye that they had not seen before, and spices that stung their noses with there pungency. Mariel purchased different things and brought them to show her mother, yammering on and on just wishing that her mother would say something, anything at all, about the items she brought.

***
One rainy fall evening, Mariel was seated in her favorite chair reading a book of fairytales when into the family sitting room her mother’s lady-in-waiting burst, a look of panic in her eyes. Everyone was instantly alert.

“Have any of you seen Princess Ivriniel? I told her that I needed to use the facilities and that I would be right back, but I got caught up in a chat with one of the maids about bringing some spiced wine to the Princess, by the time I got back her highness was gone!” The woman was in tears, her hands shaking frantically.

“She’s missing?” Adrahil asked, leaping to his aged feet, Imrahil not far behind him.

“For how long?” her uncle asked, hurting towards the door.

“The last twenty minutes, maybe more,” the woman cried, “maybe more.”

Adrahil turned to the other two men in the room, Imrahil disappearing out the door probably on his way to alert the guards. “Erchirion, run to the servants quarters and tell them to start searching the palace from top to bottom, don’t leave any storage room or cupboard from being looked through.” turning to Amrothos, “Get Elphir and take a couple of guards and search the gardens, check by the lily pond, it was her favorite place growing up.”

The two young men hurried to do his bidding, disappearing out the door as quickly as their father, their hurried footsteps fading into the darkness outside. Mariel hugged Lynniel, assuring her that it wasn’t her fault and that her mother had probably just wandered off into one of the families many living quarters and had probably fallen asleep or some such thing. Or so she hoped.

“I’ll be back soon, Mariel,” her grandfather gave her a quick squeeze, “we’ll find her, don’t you worry.”

She could only nod, afraid that if she spoke, she might cry. He swept out of the room, his steps fading slower than those of her cousins and uncle.
Soon her Lothiriel and Elphir’s quite wife, Ahriel, joined her in the family sitting room. They sat with Mariel, offering comforting words while they waited. And waited.

And waited. The minutes ticked by felt as long as hours. Many of the servants who had been ordered to search the palace came and reported that Princess Ivriniel was not within the palace. Not long after her cousins returned, stating that Aunt Ivriniel was not to be found in the garden. They were gone again, retrevi new cloaks and heading out into the rain with a troop of soldiers each.

Time continued it’s steady march on, the hand on the clock moving round and round as each hour passed. Mariel tried to keep her eyes open as she listened to the many different ones bringing this or that news. It as a repeat of “She’s not _____.” Soon she began to nod off, her eyeslids growing heavier and heavier. Lothiriel snuggled next to her, holding her hand as they both succumbed to sleep. Ahriel kept awake, knitting away in her chair anxiously, her project growing more rapidly than it had been I’m the last two weeks.

Chapter Text

 Mariel leaned her head against the glass of the cool window, tracing the drops of rain down the pane with her long, slender finger. She longed to be out in the practice yard riding her new horse, Lindel, across the jumps, or riding through the waves by the beach. But, here she was, trying to be a somewhat cheerful companion to her equally despondent mother. Though, her mother had other, more legitiment, reasons for her melancholy. 

   Her mother had been like the rolling waves of the ocean, sometimes calm, other times raging,  or forlorn. Most days she seemed to be fine, up and about attending to different duties, showing Elphir’s new wife what was involved with the many different tasks of running the Palace. On those days she seemed to slip back into her old, happy self. But, Mariel had often caught her staring off into space more times than she would care to count, a vacant, empty look in her eye. Then, on days like today, when it was raining, or overly cloudy, her mother would descend into sadness, her hands still in her lap as she stared into the flickering flames of the fire. It was hard for Mariel to comprehend how her mother could go from cheerful and exuberant one day too silent and melancholic the next. She couldn’t remember a time that her mother had ever been like that in the past. 

 Her mother had always been cheerful, yet practical. She knew that something could just not be changed, so why cry over spilled milk? Just clean it up and move on. They had spent many a happy day roaming the country around the Hall, picking flowers, foraging for mushrooms, or just staring up into the cloudy sky and describing what they saw. Ivriniel had been full of life and song, bubbling over with joy. Her father would describe them as two sprites that brought a thrill to his days. Many of the other women her mother’s age had looked and acted much older, more reserved, which had only made her mother laugh when it was mentioned that she wasn’t acting her age. 

  Now, though, she acted much older. And looked it too. Wrinkles that hadn’t been there before appeared on her face, hands, and neck. Her hair, which had only been sprinkled with grey, like fairy dust, seemed to have turned completely grey overnight. The youthfulness that had once been her most praised feature had slipped through her fingers.

  “Mother, would you like me to read for you?” she asked, picking up the book that they had started to read through and discuss last week. It was one about crops, which she had never had too much of an interest in since she assumed that her father would always be there and in charge of their land and its produce. She still only remembered half of what they talked about, deciding to fill her mind with other, more interesting topics.

  “Not today, dear,” came Ivriniel’s tired voice as she shifted in her chair.

“Then would you like to play Tavli? Or chess? Or I can run to my room and get the new one that Uncle got me for my birthday, Tab?” She offered.

 “No, I think I’d like to work on our tapestry today,” her mother stated, moving over to sit in front of a large piece of cloth that hung from some poles and had different parts marked out in chalk, a basket of embroidery floss sitting beneath it. 

  “That sounds delightful,” Mariel replied, trying not to grit her teeth as she seated herself at her mother’s side. She would rather mend her clothes, or that of her cousins, then work on this tapestry. But, her mother was adamant. Picking up a needle, she threaded the white floss through, and continued working on the tail feathers of the swan that was at the bottom right of the tapestry. Her mother’s quick, efficient fingers flew over the thick fabric, the silver thread glinting in the light from the fire. Ivriniel loved making and embroidering tapestries to give as gifts, or just to hang on the wall to keep the drafts out of each room. 

   “How have your lessons been going with Lindel?” her mother asked, finally seeming to wake from her somber mood that had been present that morning when Mariel had walked into the room.

  “Well, according to Avrone, he says that my seat will continue to need some work, but that Lindel and I seem to communicate well without overusing my heels or squeezing with my knees,” she stated, glad to have something to talk about with her mother.

 “Good, just remind him that you need to learn how to ride side-saddle as well as astride, you’re going to be a young lady soon and it would be unbecoming of you to continue riding astride,” her mother commented. 

 “Must I? It’s so uncomfortable, and unsteady, no matter how well I am seated,” Mariel pleaded, “I much prefer riding astride. Why I’ve even heard that all the women in Rohan ride astride, and wear tight trousers beneath their dresses to keep themselves modest! Might I do that?”

 Her mother huffed, “They are not as civilized as those of us here in Gondor, child, and lack the elegance and decorum that we do. Best not to dwell on it, dear.”

  Mariel rolled her eyes as she finished off a stitch, “Father would have let me continue to ride astride,” she mumbled beneath her breath. 

  Her mother stiffened, and Mariel felt like a heel. She should have known that today was not one of the days to speak of him, but it had slipped out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, laying a hand on her mother’s arm.

 Her mother’s lip trembled, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I know he would have, child, but he isn’t here now.” she leaned over and kissed the top of Mariel’s head, “But he would be very proud of you and how far you have come. He did always have a soft spot for you and your riding abilities.”

  Mariel nodded, remembering when he had presented her with her pony at age four. Her mother had almost been furious at him since she felt that Mariel needed to be a bit older before she started those types of lessons. She could hear her father’s voice echoing in her mind reminding her mother that he and his father before him started learning to ride younger than four. Her mother had relented, but felt as if her baby was growing up far too fast for her liking.

 “Here, dear, start this section and use the gold thread here and here,” her mother pointed to the sections next to the tail feathers that she had finished while lost in thought. She nodded, taking up the thread offered before continuing onto the next part of the stitching.

***

  A couple of weeks later, the early spring rains having let up, and Mariel was able to entice her mother down to the beach for a walk among the tide pools. Ivriniel was known to love the beach at this time of year, and had perked up at the invitation instantly. It saddened her family that she didn’t think to go down herself, but had to be invited, so out of it she was at times. Her cousins had instantly asked to join them, offering to make a picnic of the outing which was readily agreed to. 

   And so, here they were, walking along the edge of the beach, climbing down among the rocks to get to the pools. The wind still had a bit of a chill to it, but the sun was warm against their skin. There was laughter, and shouts of excitement as they found different shells or items of interest. Mariel couldn’t hold back the child-like wonder that she always felt when she found a particular fascinating shell, or piece of coral that had been washed in with the tide and deposited in the pool. She eagerly clambered through the rocks to the different pools, searching for shells to add to her collection, waving back to her mother who sat on a plush carpet beneath a canopy erected by the menservants before they had arrived. She was smiling, looking happier than Mariel had seen her in a long while. 

  It was a good day.

“Mariel! Look at this conk shell!” Lothiriel’s voice carried up to her from a tide pool farther down the beach, a pink  conch shell clasped in her raised hand. 

  “That’s incredible, Lothiriel!” She shouted back, lifting a small scallop that had some blue and green stripes on it. “Look what I’ve found!”

 Lothiriel grinned, giving her a thumbs up before wading into the next pool.

 Amrothos hopped down beside her, making her squeak in fright before splashing him with the water. He laughed, giving as good as he got. It didn’t take too long before they were both soaked and had to clamber back up the rocks to dry off in front of a fire that was roasting some  fish for their lunch meal. Mariel continued to wind her way through the pools, adding shells and rocks embedded with different fossils in them. When her bag was half full of odds and ends the bell that was to signal the lunch meal began to ring up and down the beach. Stuffing one last shell into her bag, she turned and scampered back over the rocks to the canopy. After nearly tripping over her sodden hem, she plopped down next to her mother, who chuckled.

 “Find some fascinating items?” she asked, fixing her daughters headband and scarf that had become askew during her romp up and down the rocks. 

  Withdrawing a couple from her bag, Mariel placed them in her mother’s hand, “I found a common fig shell, along with two Tritons trumpet’s, these are the most intact ones that I’ve found in the pools so far. The other’s that are on my shelf have pieces broken off of them, so I’ll probably get replace them with these.”

  Her mother turned the shells over in her hands, admiring the patterns on the shells and the ridges that flowed like ripples of water over the surface. “Have I ever told you about the time that I found a long-spired star?” 

 “I don’t think so? Was it during one of your escapades that you roped Aunt Findulas into?”

Another chuckle burst out from her mother, “It was indeed, and it was quite the escaped, if you ask your Grandfather.”

   A plater of fish was set before them, another filled with different types of dried fruits and nuts set next to it, before a couple of napkins were placed within reach. No one moved to eat as they all had stilled when Ivriniel had commented on her shell finding escapade. She looked up and around, suddenly unsure if she should share.

 “Come on, Aunt Ivriniel, I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad,” Amrothos encouraged, gaining an elbow from his elder brother. “It can’t have been nearly as exciting as when Erchirion and I borrowed-

“Stole” Erchirion

“Borrowed,  one of the visiting lord’s war horse’s when we were children,” Amrothos finished, glaring at Erchirion over his shoulder.

 “It was probably not as bad as that, but close,” Ivriniel laughed, “But I don’t think I should tell you, it might give you all bad ideas…” she trailed off dramatically.

 “Come on, Aunt, you’ve got to tell us now, we’re all holding our breath!” Lothiriel pleaded, hands clasped at her chest, head tilted to one side, looking like a pathetic puppy begging at the kitchen table for some scraps.

  “Well…it was many, many years ago…”

***

“Did you really borrow Grandfather’s horse and ride up the coast to that beach?” Mariel asked later as they were preparing for bed in their shared dressing room. The brush stopped running through her hair, to begin again a second later, running down to the ends and starting all over again. 

 “Yes, I did, and more than once, just don’t tell your grandfather, he never knew,” her mother whispered, leaning around Mariel’s head and kissing her cheek.

 “I wish I could be that brave,” her daughter stated, looking perturbed in the reflection of the mirror.

 “It wasn’t brave, dear, it was utterly foolish,” another kiss to the other cheek as the brush was put away. Her mother’s long fingers quickly separated strands of Mariel’s black hair and began to braid it down her back, tying it off at the end with a velvet ribbon.

 “I suppose, but I don’t think I would have the gumption to ride in the dark alone in order to get anywhere,” she pulled the braid over her shoulder, the color a sharp contrast to her cream colored linen nightgown.

  “Perhaps, but it was a lot safer back then to do such things, I wouldn’t want you to have to do that now, even with how well you can ride. Now, off to bed, my love, rest well.”

  “Goodnight mother, my the valor bless you sleep,” she kissed her mother’s cheek, gave her a quick hug, and slipped through the door to her room.

***

    That day spent at the beach was the last day in which Ivriniel was so animated and talkative.  The days following she fell deeper and deeper into her melancholy, staring aimlessly out the window and not even acknowledging those around her. She ate less and less, and began to take on a sickly look. Most days Mariel would take her lessons to her mother’s sitting room, doing her book work and reading while sitting at her mother’s feet before the fire. She tried to engage her, talking on an on about the different topics they were discussing in history, literature, and the sciences. Every now and then, an awareness would come into her mother’s eyes and she would seem to take more of an interest, but many days passed much the same. Ivriniel either slept, or sat lethargically looking out her window at the road that led away from the palace. Empty. Vacant. Lonely.

   When Mariel wasn’t around, both Adrahil and Imrahil tried to engage with their daughter and sister, trying different tactics to break her from her silence. Nothing worked, and soon they gave up trying. The spring slipped into summer, the heat rolling up from the south, and still there was no change in their beloved Ivriniel. Mariel and her cousins spent much of their time playing among the waves, searching the tide pools, and riding through the meadows and small woods that surrounded the city of Dol Amroth. They visited the merchants stalls, looking over the unique items that came from all over Arda, shiny rings made by the dwarves, carved animals from the settlements of men around Mirkwood and those in Dale. There were silks from Harad, new colors of dye that they had not seen before, and spices that stung their noses with there pungency. Mariel purchased different things and brought them to show her mother, yammering on and on just wishing that her mother would say something, anything at all, about the items she brought. 

***

   One rainy fall evening, Mariel was seated in her favorite chair reading a book of fairytales when into the family sitting room her mother’s lady-in-waiting burst, a look of panic in her eyes. Everyone was instantly alert.

 “Have any of you seen Princess Ivriniel? I told her that I needed to use the facilities and that I would be right back, but I got caught up in a chat with one of the maids about bringing some spiced wine to the Princess, by the time I got back her highness was gone!” The woman was in tears, her hands shaking frantically.

 “She’s missing?” Adrahil asked, leaping to his aged feet, Imrahil not far behind him.

“For how long?” her uncle asked, hurting towards the door.

“The last twenty minutes, maybe more,” the woman cried, “maybe more.”

  Adrahil turned to the other two men in the room, Imrahil disappearing out the door probably on his way to alert the guards. “Erchirion, run to the servants quarters and tell them to start searching the palace from top to bottom, don’t leave any storage room or cupboard from being looked through.” turning to Amrothos, “Get Elphir and take a couple of guards and search the gardens, check by the lily pond, it was her favorite place growing up.”

 The two young men hurried to do his bidding, disappearing out the door as quickly as their father, their hurried footsteps fading into the darkness outside. Mariel hugged Lynniel, assuring her that it wasn’t her fault and that her mother had probably just wandered off into one of the families many living quarters and had probably fallen asleep or some such thing. Or so she hoped.  

  “I’ll be back soon, Mariel,” her grandfather gave her a quick squeeze, “we’ll find her, don’t you worry.” 

  She could only nod, afraid that if she spoke, she might cry. He swept out of the room, his steps fading slower than those of her cousins and uncle. 

    Soon her Lothiriel and Elphir’s quite wife, Ahriel, joined her in the family sitting room. They sat with Mariel, offering comforting words while they waited. And waited. And waited. The minutes ticked by felt as long as hours. Many of the servants who had been ordered to search the palace came and reported that Princess Ivriniel was not within the palace. Not long after her cousins returned, stating that Aunt Ivriniel was not to be found in the garden. They were gone again, retrevi new cloaks and heading out into the rain with a troop of soldiers each.

   Time continued it’s steady march on, the hand on the clock moving round and round as each hour passed. Mariel tried to keep her eyes open as she listened to the many different ones bringing this or that news. It as a repeat of “She’s not _____.” Soon she began to nod off, her eyeslids growing heavier and heavier. Lothiriel snuggled next to her, holding her hand as they both succumbed to sleep. Ahriel kept awake, knitting away in her chair anxiously, her project growing more rapidly than it had been I’m the last two weeks.