As Far As The Heart Can See

Chapter 10
“The Princess of Dol Amroth”

Éomer entered his study, closed the door quietly and stood next to his sister. He quickly nodded to her then focused on Imrahil and Aragorn who were deep in conversation.
“…and you are certain, Imrahil?” Aragorn inquired. The older man nodded and passed a hand over his face before answering.
“Very certain. She…she is the exact image of Lindóriel, my dear wife.”
The King of Gondor nodded and Éomer finally understood. So Ósle was Imrahil’s daughter, a Princess of Dol Amroth. But how had she come here, to Rohan? And why?

“Where have you been, my friend?” Aragorn’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Éomer looked up. He sighed and smiled.
“I have sent someone after Ósle…I mean…the Princess,” he explained. Gandalf, seated in one corner, chuckled slightly while Imrahil faced the young King.
“Ósle? Do…do you know her, Éomer?”
“No, my friend. I do not truly know her. But…we have met. She said that she grew up in a village of the Westfold in the care of an old man named Halian. He was a healer and taught her to be one as well. I…,” he interrupted himself, knowing that what he had wanted to say couldn’t be spoken by him, yet. He took a deep breath.
“Give her time, Imrahil,” he said instead. The older man nodded.
“I think, I would like some tea,” Éowyn spoke up and she went to find a maid.

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Ósle tightly held the old book to her chest with one hand while the other fidgeted nervously with the apron she still wore. Walking beside her, Beda put a comforting hand on her shoulder. They turned a corner and soon came to stand in front of the door to the King’s study.
The man smiled at her and nodded.
“Go on. Find your answers. You have waited long enough for them.”
Ósle nodded and swallowed hard then flew forward and hugged Beda.
“Can…can you wait here for me?” she asked very quietly. He nodded.
“I will only fetch Asthryd and then we will return here together and wait for you. You will be fine, Ósle.”

She just nodded and hugged him again before turning to the door. She straightened her pose, walked the few steps toward it and knocked. Upon the positive reply, she pushed the handle and entered without a backward glance.
Not prepared for so many eyes on her, Ósle blushed. Yet, she closed the door behind her and slowly strode forward.
“I…I apologize for…running away, my lords and ladies,” she breathed but the oldest of the dark-haired men held up his hand.
“No need,” he said softly and patted the empty chair beside him. Hesitating only briefly, she then stepped forward and sat down, putting the book down on a nearby table.
“I…I do not know where to begin,” the man beside her said and sighed.
“I do, my lord,” Ósle replied on a sudden impulse and looked up to meet his eyes. “Who am I?”
“You…you are Lothíriel, my long lost daughter and the Princess of Dol Amroth. – Dol Amroth is the chief city of…”
“…of Belfalas which is a fief of Gondor. I know, my lord,” Ósle finished for him.

Everyone’s eyes widened and the Queen of Gondor said:
“You seem well educated.”
A shadow of a smile crossed Ósle’s face and she nodded.
“Halian was a good teacher.” And focusing on Imrahil again she inquired: “When was I born?”
“On the 4th of April in the year 2997 of this age.”
“And…and my mother?”
The Prince did not answer at once. The silence lingered and Ósle knew.
“She…she is dead, isn’t she?” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Imrahil closed his eyes and nodded.
“She died a few days after you were born,” he replied.
It was all a jumble in her mind again, as so many times in these passed months. So much had happened, so much had changed. And now this: She no longer had a mother. And she was the cause of it.
Tears leaked out of her eyes and she abruptly stood from the chair. This couldn’t be! Oh, why had she come to Edoras? She should have stayed at the burg or returned to the almost completely rebuilt village by the hill. She was a Princess now! What should she do? Oh Halian!

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her turn around, and not caring who it was, she flung herself into the waiting arms. Crying bitterly, her hands clutched the soft tunic.
Éomer held her close, stroking her back and whispering soothing words in rohirric.
Imrahil had not moved from his seat, dealing with his own stricken emotions and tears still shown in his eyes.
Amrothos had put a comforting hand on his fathers shoulder with his brothers on each side. Tears were visible on all three faces.
Aragorn had taken hold of his wife’s hand while Faramir had his arm around Éowyn.
Gandalf stood off to the side, his face unreadable.

When Ósle’s sobs finally decreased, she pulled away and looked up at the man holding her, a blush on her cheeks. But before she could say anything, Imrahil did.
“Lothíriel?” he softly called and to both their surprise, she at once turned to face him.
“I…,” he paused, searching for the right words. “After your mother’s death, it was you and your brothers who made it possible for me to go on. You were a gift, a most precious gift to us.
“When you disappeared that night…21 years ago…I felt lost. Really lost.”
Ósle held his gaze and nodded, very grateful for Éomer’s hand on her shoulder.
“I…I just disappeared? I mean…how?”
“Well,” Imrahil started and took a deep breath. “Not completely. There was a small note left in your crib by your nurse that you would be safe.”
The dark-haired healer nodded and the Prince continued:
“Asha, your nurse, came to Dol Amroth when she was a small child along with her mother and several other refugees from Harad. Her mother cared for your brothers and Asha learned all she needed to know.
“When Lindóriel, your mother died, I appointed Asha to be your nurse. They had been with us for over 20 years by then and neither I nor my father had reason to doubt them. Until…until you disappeared.
“Only a few days later, Dol Amroth was attacked by the Corsairs of Umbar. After the battle was won, I was able to learn from one of them taken captive alive that they had planned to kidnap you – a mere babe. For what he did not know. And believe me he would have said if he knew.
“After that I send out even more troops to find you, to bring you back. But no trace was found. A year and a half later I gave up. I thought you lost to us forever.”

Once again tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt very much inclined to run away again. It was again too much. The pressure of the King’s hand still on her shoulder increased and she turned to him half way, smiling in what she hoped was a grateful way. Then she slowly stepped forward and took the book she had brought with her from the table.
“I…there is this letter…my guardian…Halian gave to me…when…when…” Ósle trailed off and sighed before taking a deep breath.
“I…I have not known of it until tonight and have not read it…the language, I can’t read it.”
With that she took the crumbled and stained envelope from the book and handed it to the Prince who haltingly took it. He opened it, unfolded the soiled parchment and quickly read the words, seemingly understanding what it said.
“It is written in elvish,” he eventually said and Ósle gasped. “Asha wrote it, I believe shortly before she brought you to that small village. She explains again why she took you from us and writes here that she had overheard the men who had come with her to hand you to the corsairs or haradrim for a good price.
“She fled from them and apparently paid for it with her own life,” he finished and refolded the letter. Ósle’s hands clutched the book she was still holding so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. This poor young woman…giving up her life to save her.
She remembered Halian telling her of the night she arrived. Halian! Had he known who she truly was? Did…did he read the letter?
Fresh tears came to her eyes and she lightly shook her head. She couldn’t take anymore. All of this was too much for one night. By Bema, it would be too much for several weeks.
As if sensing her feelings, the Queen of Gondor stood.
“It is late. Why don’t we all retire and continue in the morning?”
Ósle shot her a very grateful look and nodded. More than anything she wanted to see Beda, Ceredig and Asthryd.

TBC