#wife of Imrahil - named Sirrin by me

[dalleyan]

Destiny (1st chapter of new LoTR story posted, 11-4-20)

All her life, the prophecy had shadowed everything she did.  Now that she was of age, and the world seemed to be ending, was it possible the Istar had been mistaken?  Complete in 8 chapters.

 Destiny

 Prologue   (3002 III)

In the year 2999 of the Third Age, Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his wife Sirrin had a little girl born into their family.  Both rejoiced at this special gift since all their previous children had been male, and the entire family doted on the infant.  When the child was a precocious three years of age, the family went to visit their kin in Minas Tirith.  Imrahil’s sister, Finduilas, had been married to the Steward Denethor, but died many years past.  While Imrahil did not share a close relationship with his brother-in-law, he was quite fond of his two nephews.

Both young men had turned out well, despite the death of their mother when they were but children, and Imrahil was eager to see them before duty made it more difficult.  Boromir was already deeply engaged in military matters, having a natural bent for it, even at but twenty-four seasons.  Faramir, too, was learning the ways of war, though he was a more reluctant pupil.  His was a gentler, more temperate nature, and though he knew the evil of Mordor made his participation essential, he did not revel in death or destruction, even of an enemy.

The family arrived on an overcast autumn day, but as the boat pulled into the Harlond, the sun finally came out.  The warmth and brightness of it lifted their spirits, despite the gloom of being so near Mordor.  Carriages were quickly secured to transfer the family to the city, and Lothiriel was all eyes, staring from the window at the great city looming up the side of the mountain.  Her brothers had been here before, and were far more interested in the horses, the soldiers much in evidence and planning their activities in the White City.

The family had a townhouse situated on the Sixth Level, on the North side. Word had been sent on ahead to ready the house for their arrival, and so they were met with bustling servants who quickly saw to their needs and soon had them settled in their rooms.

Less than an hour later, a knock sounded at the door, and Faramir stood eagerly on the doorstep.  Sirrin, who had been talking with servants to arrange the household, looked up and smiled warmly.  “Faramir!” she called to him, as the doorman stepped aside to admit him.  “How good to see you again!

He hurried forward, reaching for her hand to kiss it, but she drew him into an embrace.  “None of that formality, Nephew!  Oh, how you have grown!  It seems ages since I have seen you and Boromir.  He is well, as are you?”

Faramir grinned boyishly at her and nodded.  “We both are.  He is with the garrison at Osgiliath at present, but will return day after tomorrow. I sent word of your visit and he is eager to meet his newest cousin!” 

A thunder of feet just then drew their attention, and said new cousin raced down the stairs as fast as she could safely manage.  At the sight of the tall man with her mother, however, she skidded to a halt and stood silently staring.  Sirrin held out a hand to her, signaling her forward.  “Come and meet your cousin Faramir, dearest.”

Shyly, Lothiriel drew nearer, edging close to her mother and seizing her hand for reassurance, somewhat hiding behind her skirts.

“Say hello, Lothiriel,” her mother instructed, but the child turned and buried her face in her mother’s skirt without speaking.

Faramir smiled as he knelt down to put himself more on Lothiriel’s level. “It is a very great pleasure to meet you, Lothiriel.  I have been eager to do so ever since hearing of your birth.  And such a pretty name, too.  Do you know what it means?”

Unable to resist her curiosity, the little girl peeked out at him and shook her head.  Sitting down on the floor, Faramir unwrapped a parcel he had been carrying and drew forth a circle made of flowers braided together.  “It means ‘flower-garlanded maiden’, and on my way here I stopped and bought some flowers for your hair.  Shall I put them on you?”

With a toothy grin, she finally drew near him and lisped excitedly, “Yes, please!”

He smiled at the politeness, even from one so young.  Manners were greatly stressed in Imrahil’s house, though as Sirrin had demonstrated, once they were completely ingrained there were times when they might be set aside for familiarity.

The little girl quickly warmed to her cousin after that, and he very nearly regretted his success in winning her over for she attached herself to his side almost as a leech.  Her constant press for his attention made it difficult to greet his other relatives, but it was accomplished around the little girl’s prancing and twirling to show off the adornment of flowers he had given her.

The three boys adored and admired their older cousins, greatly impressed by their military activities and wanting to hear all about them.  Boromir was more apt to speak at length on such matters, but Faramir tended to give only cursory responses before shifting the conversation to more genteel subjects.  Even so, he told the lads enough to almost satisify them.

Faramir joined the family for a late dinner, before all made their way to the Citadel and an afternoon audience with Steward Denethor.  Health and circumstances had prevented Sirrin and Lothiriel coming to the White City since the little girl’s birth, so this would be Denethor’s first time meeting his niece.  Privately, Faramir thought his father little interested in the child other than random thoughts of how she might be useful to him when she was older and could form an advantageous marriage, but the Steward well knew how to preserve important connections.  Not only was Imrahil of Dol Amroth related to him through marriage, but he was also prince over the largest fief in Gondor.  It would not do to slight such a man and his family, however tedious it might be dealing with them.

Once the meal was ended, the family walked up through the streets to the highest level.  Lothiriel was trying to skip on ahead, gazing raptly around her at all the new and wondrous sights, but Faramir had a firm grasp on her hand and kept her from straying far.

Just as they neared the tunnel that would take them to the gate, a familiar figure was seen talking to one of the guards. 

“Mithrandir!  Come meet my niece, Lothiriel!” Faramir eagerly called to the wizard.

Slowly the old man turned to eye them, before coming to join them and gaze upon the child looking up at him with wide-eyed wonder.  “Lothiriel, is it?”  He fell silent for several long moments and no one spoke.  Finally he murmured, “An appropriate name as it happens, for one day she will be garlanded with a crown rather than flowers.  One day she will wed a king.”

 continue reading on AO3:

              https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393160/chapters/66948316