Chapter Text
Letta scrunched her nose from behind her fan, hiding her disgruntled face from the piercing gaze of her aunt. Her uncle was grandly recalling the last time that he last spoke to the Prince during the last council meeting, and while Letta was once easily enamored by tales of the Princes of Dol Amroth, she was now disillusioned to her uncle’s boasting.
“My dear, I do believe we’re on the up and up,” Uncle Barne said, catching sight of himself in one of the small looking glasses on the wall near him, tilting his head with barely restrained pride.
Letta caught the eye of her elder sister. Moraine gave her an amused grimace, which was also carefully hidden by her own fan. Letta nearly snorted. For Moraine to succumb to a grimace showed how clearly intolerable their uncle truly was.
“Yes, my dear,” Aunt Meera said, smiling demurely at him. “I’m sure Prince Imrahil will see your worth soon, if he has not already.”
The parlor was small, residing off of Uncle Barne’s study, and was usually occupied by the women of the house when the petty lord wanted to speak to them. Which was often. Letta now suspected he did more boasting and talking than any of his actual duties. The walls and decor were, for the most part, relatively shabby compared to the great esteemed houses and estates of the lands surrounding Dol Amroth. Still, it had the pretense of great wealth, for her uncle was not to be outdone by his fellow lords of Belfalas, despite not sharing their eye for artistic worth.
The only woman of age who were currently missing was the girls' cousin, Illena, and Lorina, the middle sister of Letta and Morraine's side of the family. Letta did not care to think where her cousin was currently, and it did not matter. They were here for a purpose, and it was a blessing that their cousin wasn’t there to disrupt their mission.
“Well,” Uncle Barne smoothed out the chest of his tunic, before clearing his throat. “It would be nice to get a promotion one of these days. Perhaps have our stipend elevated. Taking care of my dear sister and her…” he eyed Letta and Moraine, “Plentiful daughters is no easy feat.”
Letta’s mouth twitched into a frown.
“We are very grateful for your generosity, Uncle,” Moraine said, quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly at their uncle’s blunt remark.
“We are quite aware we would be living in squalor without it,” Letta piped up, fanning herself a little more forcefully now. When a stray piece of hair fell into her mouth, she nearly spat it out in her annoyance.
Their uncle nodded sagely, not bothering to glance their way again.
Letta looked to Moraine, wondering when her older sister would bring the subject up. Moraine, it seemed, was still stuck on the shame of being perceived as a burden, for she was sitting with an embarrassed and forlorn look on her face. This, Letta thought uncharitably, was not the time to mope.
“Uncle,” Letta spoke up, bringing the mission upon her own shoulders, “I’m not sure if you remember, but Lorina turned twenty-two this past autumn.”
“Ah, yes, that sounds about right,” Uncle Barne said, now examining his hairline in the mirror, as if counting each strand to make sure none were misplaced.
Letta pursed her lips, as he continued to examine his appearance.
“What Letta means is,” Moraine said, her tone cautious. “Is whether or not Lorina should be presented to Court, as the two of us and our cousin were when we came of age.”
Uncle Barne paused, and Aunt Meera gave them a shrewd look.
“I suppose, we should, shouldn’t we,” Uncle Barne said, his tone regretful, but not unkind.
“But can we afford the trip to Minas Tirith this year?” Aunt Meera asked, a little too sharply and shrilly for Letta’s liking. “And what of Prince Imrahil? Can he do without you here for so many months?”
Uncle Barne hesitated, glancing between the three women.
“Prince Imrahil and nearly his entirely family would naturally be attending,” Letta said, quickly. “This may be the perfect chance to show him how benevolent you are. Imagine what he would think, knowing that the daughter of your poor, widowed sister was not able to be presented because of--”
“Surely he will need you here, taking care of Belfalas with the other lords in his stead,” Aunt Meera interrupted, never to be outdone by one of her husband's nieces.
“True, but the sooner Lorina is presented to Court, the sooner she can be married, and Lorina strongly desires to find a match,” Letta continued. “Surely having one less mouth to feed can only benefit the entire family?”
Aunt Meera eyed Letta with narrowed eyes, her thin lips pursing into a scowl. “You and your elder sister were presented at court over two and four years ago,” she said, snidely. “Surely you should worry about finding your own match before worrying about your younger sister.”
Letta’s smile fell from her face.
“After all, a woman in your… situation… can’t be picky,” Aunt Meera continued. “When your match fell through a year and a half ago… well… I'm afraid now none of you can afford to be too choosy.”
Letta’s heart leapt into her throat, beating against its cage with rage and disgust.
Moraine quickly intervened, before Letta's anger got the best of her. “But that wasn’t Letta’s fault. He chose a different bride at the last minute. He’s the one who should be scorned by society, not her.”
“That’s not how it works, my dear,” Aunt Meera said, sharply, fanning herself furiously, and still glaring at Letta.
“Illena has not found a match,” Letta said, once she had found her voice. Her words felt like they were screeching through her gritted teeth. She tried, and failed, to force her tone to stay calm and polite. “Surely it is for the same reason as Moraine, and I, that when the three of us were presented to court, it was during war times, and most of the eligible men of age were defending our country. But we are at peace now, and many of those eligible bachelors have returned home. This will be a perfect chance to find husbands for all four of us. Surely you would not deny Illena the chance to obtain a satisfying match.”
Aunt Meera narrowed her eyes again, but Uncle Barne clapped his hands together once, then said, as if it were all his very own idea from the start, “Indeed. What an excellent idea. I shall set forth the plans immediately.”
Letta caught Moraine’s eyes, before quickly feigning a yawn and standing up. “I am afraid I must retire—I would like to check on the girls and see how they are attending to their studies.”
Uncle Barne nodded, though she was sure he had not heard a word, but Aunt Meera gave Letta and Moraine a shriveling look of disdain as they headed to the door out of the parlor. Letta gave her a sickeningly pleasant smile, before leaving the room with Moraine.
The sisters linked arms as they walked down the hallway of their uncle’s meager estate house. Letta sighed. “He does love to remind us of our place in the world,” she muttered. “Surely there is more to life than the approval of Prince Imrahil and his sons. If I could go another day without ever hearing that name again I would be truly happy.”
“Don’t say that,” Moraine said, nudging Letta playfully. “It’s not Prince Imrahil’s fault, nor his sons, that Uncle dotes on their attention so.” She paused, then said, with an amused air, “I daresay Prince Imrahil must like any day his name does not come out of Uncle’s mouth. I can’t imagine the prince tolerates him nearly as well as Uncle claims.”
“Now who is being rude,” Letta laughed. They stopped before a large window on the arch hallway, looking through it out towards the sparkling sea beyond. “Oh,” Letta said, softly. “I will not be unhappy to leave this place."
“Oh?” Moraine said, joining her to look out across the sea. “It’s not so bad. Uncle and aunt’s generosity saved us from ruin.”
“But at what cost?” Letta murmured. She sighed, audibly. “If mother had only given birth to a son, or if women were allowed to inherit. Or if Papa had not died…”
“It’s useless to play a game of ifs,” Moraine said, gently.
“Is that not the truth,” Letta said. “One ‘what-if’ I’m rather grateful for is that I never did marry that scoundrel. To think I had been swayed by pretty words and fanciful gifts once.” Her hand gripped at the sill of the window, her jaw clenching.
“He is married now,” Moraine said, nodding, "so alls well that ends well. Though I hear…”
Letta glanced at her through the corner of her eyes. “What?”
“I hear he has taken a mistress, despite he and Lady Belwen only having been married not yet six months,” Moraine said. “I’d say you dodged an arrow with him.”
Letta’s lip raised into a slight sneer, then she sighed. “I should feel sorry for Lady Belwen, I suppose. But I don’t. I feel rather petty. Good riddance on them both,” she said, forcefully.
“You’ll find a better match than him,” Moraine said, squeezing her arm.
“I care not for good or bad matches,” Letta said, laughing then sobering quickly. “I care that I marry for love, like mother and father did.”
Moraine nodded. “I hope that for us all,” she said. “I hope we all marry for love, and that each of us find a good match.”
Footsteps were heard from down the hall. “Well? What of it? Did he agree?”
Lorina, the third sister stood before them, excitedly, hopefully, eagerly awaiting the news. Her light honey-brown hair, that all the sisters shared, hung loose down her back. Letta smiled at the sight of their younger sister. “I have good news,” she said. “Uncle and Aunt have agreed to present you to court this spring.”
Lorina squealed, rushing forward into Moraine’s arms. “Thank you! Thank you!” She said, her smile swallowing her small, pretty face. “I’m not sure what I’d ever do without you.”
Then she drew back, as if recalling something unpleasant. “They’ll get me proper dresses, will they not?” She asked. “Illena got four new dresses when she presented.”
Letta and Moraine glanced at each other, before they both laughed. “You are putting the cart before the horse, my dear little sister,” Moraine chuckled.
“Yes, we will you will not stand pale beside your peers,” Letta said, patting Lorina’s head.
“It’s not funny,” Lorina muttered, stepping back. “I don’t want to become a laughing stock. How will I ever find a good match if I don’t look as good as the others?”
“Your good looks will speak for themselves,” Letta said, amused. But at Lorina’s glare, she added, more seriously, “Moraine and I will make sure you have everything you need."
“Good,” Lorina said, falling back into Moraine’s arms. “I won’t be outshone by anyone.”
“Of course not,” Moraine said, smoothing out Lorina’s hair, “And with any luck we’ll find you a handsome prince to marry.”
“And then I’ll be gone from this wretched place,” Lorina said, sighing astutely. “Oh, April can’t come soon enough.”
Letta quickly descended down the steps into to the stable yard at a brisk pace, skipping every other step. The rest of the household had not yet risen, and neither had the sun. It was her favorite time of day, when all was still and quiet.
She entered the stable yard and looked around for Master Chaen. When she spotted him, patching up the dummy that she and her sisters used for sparring practice, she hurried over. The old man turned to smile at her as she stepped up to him. “I see only you have come this morning,” he said, sounding amused.
“Of course,” Letta said, bouncing on her heels. “Moraine might have no more desire to train, and goodness knows that Lorina isn’t interested anymore, but you know how I feel on the matter.”
Master Chaen laughed. “Good, good,” he said. “I daresay, your enthusiasm is paying off. You could easily beat that cousin of yours any day now.”
“Don’t tell Aunt Meera that,” Letta laughed, although she enjoyed the imagery of giving Durren, Aunt Meera and Uncle Barne's only son, a good whooping. “So, what do you have for me today?”
Master Chaen tossed her two sheathed long knives. She caught them easily, and stared down in surprise at their intricate nature. She glanced up at him questioningly.
“A gift, for you,” he said, hands behind his back. “You are to start training with them.”
“These must have cost a fortune!” she said quietly, running a hand along the handles, before unsheathing one and admiring the stunning elven blade. "What's the occasion?"
Master Chaen laughed. "Need I a reason to dote on any of you girls? You cannot give them back, they are a gift for you. They were made for you, and they will obey only you.”
“But--”
“I had gifts made for Moraine, Lorina and Illena too,” the elven blacksmith added, “And when Piper and Maydia come of age, I will make sure they receive such gifts too.”
She gave him one last helpless look, before admiring the blades again with increased interest. “They are beautiful,” she breathed, stepping back and then slashing the air with one naked blade. “They have a good weight to them, and yet I feel as though they will never feel like a burden to wield and carry.”
“That is the nature of elven blades,” Master Chaen said, smiling softly at her, before motioning for her to step back farther.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, sheathing the blade and moving to place the blades on the ground.
“My dear child,” he laughed, “You overestimate yourself. But if you worry about your own restraint and skills, then fight with them sheathed. I want you to get used to using them before your trip to Minas Tirith.”
“Uncle disapproves, you know,” she said, as she side stepped his fist as he thrust it at her face. “He says it’s improper for women to fight.”
“Your father approved of me to teach you five,” Master Chaen said, stepping forward again with a swift, concise movement. “And your mother agreed that it could continue after your father's death. She is the one that I heed, not your uncle.”
“Of course,” Letta said, swiping up the sheathed knife at his arm. She knew immediately that he would evade. But she guessed wrong the direction. She let out a yelp as his boot hit the side of her abdomen, causing her to skid sideways and almost fall.
He stood, towering over her, before offering her a hand up. She laughed, standing up and brushing off her training clothes. “Don’t go easy on me,” she chastised.
He laughed, giving a small bow. “I would never.”
They resumed the training, well past the sun's rising, when the servants began to attend to their duties.
Lorina gazed at the four dresses laid out before her. “I see…that you have made them yourselves,” she murmured, running a hand along one hem.
“Not this one,” Piper, their fourth sister, said, motioning to the third one. “This one was made for you by the dressmaker—don’t you remember being fitted for it?”
“Well, I thought--” Lorina spun to look imploringly at Letta and Moraine. “Surely Uncle gave us a bit bigger of a budget for my dresses than that."
Letta and Moraine glanced at each other, unsure how to answer. Letta wanted to point out that they were wearing old dresses to the season.
But Lorina was used to getting her way, and Moraine in particular hated disappointing any of their siblings.
"No one will know," Moraine said, putting her arms around Lorina. "And besides… you know i am well adept at dressmaking."
"But I'll Know," Lorina said, sniffling slightly.
Letta's eyes rose to the ceiling of Lorina's bedchamber that she still shared with Piper. She would need a new room once she was presented to court. Or perhaps Lorina would get lucky, and find a match this season before any of the others.
Not that Letta was particularly hopeful she or her sisters would find any match this season. Not when they had so little to offer in way of a dowry. But there was no need to bring down the mood of the day even further.
"Surely," Letta stepped forward. "We were assured that these will make you the belle of the season. And besides, you are naturally very pretty, and most girls presenting this season cannot always say the same. I'm sure your natural beauty will shine through."
Lorina sniffled sligthtly, before dabbing at her nose with a hankerchief and nodding. "Yes, you're right, of course."
Letta and Moraine caught each other's eyes, and Letta was secretly pleased that even Morraine looked amused.
"I'm so jealous," Piper sighed wistfully. "I wish I could come with you all. I've never even seen the capitol."
"Your time will come soon," Letta said, ruffling her little sister's hair. "But we'll need you to stay here, watch over mother and Maydia."
Piper pouted, but nodded, dutifully.
"After all," Letta said, sitting on Piper's bed and drawing the young girl into a hug. "Your elder sister might end up marrying a prince after all."
"You?" Piper asked.
"Oh no," Letta laughed, a little harder than was ladylike. "Not me. I'm not suitable to be a prince's bride." Then, whispering, she added, "Too much pressure. No," she sighed. "I do think Lorina or Morraine have a good chance, though."
"Letta," Morraine scolded, blushing deeply. "Don't be silly."
"Don't jinx it," Lorina said, stoutly, sending Letta a glare. "If I'm to marry a prince it's will be of my own merit."
"Of course, of course," Letta said, wiggling her eyebrows at Piper, who started giggling.
"Girls!" someone called from down the hallway. It was the old housekeeper. "Time to get ready for supper!"
"Goodness," Morraine said, quickly gathering herself together, "Where has the time gone. Letta, Lorina, help me put these dresses away lest they get too creased."
They girls quickly dispersed to their own rooms, getting ready for their evening supper.
Letta stood, checking the luggage with Aunt Meera. It wasn't that she didn't trust her aunt. It wasn't quite that she thought of sabotage, but she wouldn't have put it past the woman to be intentionally neglectful of all the tasks at hand.
"Goodness," Uncel Barne adjusting his robe again, as Aunt Meera left Letta and the luggage to join him at the pier. "I do rather think these robes are a bit plain, do you not think, wife? What will Prince Imrahil think, I wonder."
"Prince Imrahil is a sensible man," Aunt Meera answered, sounding a little worn. "Though a great lord and prince, he is of a humble nature. I'm sure he'll appreciate your sensible outfit, my dear."
Letta smirked slightly. She had only had the pleasure of meeting Prince Imrahil once, when she and her sisters had first arrived in Belfalas after the death of their father. He had awarded their mother with a reward of honor. Letta would have rather kept her father instead.
But still, it was entertaining to see how foolish and pathetic their uncle squirmed under the anticipation of Prince Imrahil's arrival.
Prince Imrahil had, charitably, offered to pick them up en route towards the river. They would disembark in Osgiliath, and continue via horseback and carriage towards the city from there. Uncle Barne was like a child with a new toy. Any chance to impress upon the prince! he kept proclaiming.
"Look!" Piper shrieked, hanging off one of the dock piling beams. "Look! Look! There they are!"
"My dear, he'll hear you," their uncle chastised, despite the ship being a good mile away.
"Look!" Piper was now waving enthusiastically. Little Maydia jumped up and down, waving both arms as she did so.
It took longer than one would expect for the grand swan ship to arrive and dock at the pier. Uncle Barne kept turning around periodically to inquire to his wife or nieces if he looked presentable enough, or to adjust his hair, which admittedly kept getting tousled from the wind.
"Enough, Enough," Letta murmured out of the corner of her mouth to Morraine. "Think he'll kiss the Prince's feet as well once they get here?"
Men shouted as they finished docking. A boarding plank was quickly lowered, and many sailors came down to help with the luggage. A tall young man, that Letta quickly recognized as Prince Imrahil's eldest grandchild and in direct line for the princeship, Prince Alphros, stepped down the boarding pank and nodded his head in recognition of Uncle Barne.
"My good prince," Uncle Barne said, bowing low. And then, as if bowing so low wasn't accidental insult enough, he bowed a second time in his nervousness. "We thank you and your esteemed grandfather for allowing us passage on this journey. Surely, you are all so generous."
Prince Alphros gave Uncle Barne a charitable smile. "Of course. He apologizes that he coud not come down to greet you himself, but he is tending to my grandmother, who is often ill when docking."
Whether or not this was true, Letta did not know. But she did know that the Grand Princess was infamous for being an astute sailor and knowing the sees better than her husband and children. She caught Morraine's eye again, who quickly gave her a short shake of her head, as if to warn Letta to behave herself.
At least in front of royalty.
"Girls!" a weak voice suddenly called out, and Letta looked up to see her mother walking slowly towards them, hunched slightly, Master Chaen holding the older woman's arms to help her move forward across the path.
It was so unusual to see her mother out of bed, that Letta wasn't sure what to do at first. Then she rushed over to them, grasping her mother's other arm and helped her towards the foot of the pier.
"Mother!" Piper said, looking shocked as well, before she and Morriane hurried over as well.
"Ah," Letta heard Uncle Barne say apologetically to Prince Alphros. "My dear widowed sister, it's her daughter we are presenting to the court this season. Her other daughters are here also."
"My dear girls," their mother said, her voice soft and dry. As if she had just been crying. Knowing their mother, she must have been. "I had to see you go. Be safe, and do not rush a match. Be wise."
"Of course, mother," Lorina said, grasping their mother's hands.
"Behave yourself," their mother said, patting Lorina's hands. "Don't be rash. Listen to your sisters."
Lorina nodded glumly.
"Mother," Letta began, but Uncle Barne quickly approached.
"Yes, very good to see you, sister," he hissed, "But we really can't keep his highness waiting."
Letta rolled her eyes, barely keeping it noticeable from her uncle. "Come," Morraine said, patting Lorina and Letta on the arm, "Let's not hold them up any longer."
Uncle Barne headed back up the pier along with the three elder girls. "Letta!" Piper stood behind them. "Can't I go?"
Letta smiled, before shaking her head.
"But I'll miss you," Piper sniffled. "It'll be boring without everyone."
"Get her under control," Uncle Barne instructed quietly, before ushering his own family up the boarding plank.
Lorina left to board behind him, but Morraine and Letta both moved forward to embrace Piper. Letta picked up Maydia, who had rushed over to them as well, and planted a kiss on the little girl's brow. "Don't fret," She told the two younger girls. "We'll be back soon, I promise."
Piper nodded, and Letta smiled encouragingly at both of them, before putting down Maydia and turning to lead Morraine back up the pier towards the boarding plank, where now only Prince Alprhos remained, waiting dutifully for them to board.
"Apologies, your highness," Letta said, curtsying as she accepted his hand to help her onto the plank. She turned to offer a hand to Morraine, who had always been terrified of sailing and the ocean.
"Allow me," she heard Prince Alphros say, and saw him offer a hand as well to Morraine.
"Ah," Morraine said, blushing slightly, "I apologize, I'm just a bit nervous."
Letta, guessing that the prince would be able to help Morraine up the boarding plank, hurried up to get out of their way. She watched as Prince Alphros aided Morraine up the boarding plank, slowly and carefully, his hand respectfully against the back of her waist to guide her up.
When they reached the ship, Morraine stepped on a little shakily, and he stood with her for a moment until she had caught her balance. She curtsied. "Thank you, Your highness."
"Of course," He said, bowing more deeply for her than he had to their uncle.
He left to join the others, but Letta caught sight of the sweet tinge of a blush on both his face and her sister's as they separated to join their respective parties.
To Be Continued…??
I've had this idea for a while and I love the idea of a LOTR Post-war of the ring story with the vibes of Pride & Prejudice and Little Women :)
Also sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. I did my best to edit this but eventually you just gotta post it and let it go!! haha
Would love to know your thoughts on this chapter!!
Thanks for reading!! See you soon?