Tolkien Fan Fiction
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| The Wedding |
Princess Finduilas of Dol Amroth was a kind hearted woman. She was very young when she married Lord Denethor, being around 26 years of age. She loved the sea and became terrified of the growing threat in Mordor, which was something she woke up to every day during her marriage. This story is the first of a long series about the Royal Family of Dol Amroth. I am planning on writing a different story for each family member - Boromir, Faramir, Imrahil, Amrothos, Erchirion, Elphir, Lothiriel, Ivriniel, Elfwine, Elboron and Alphros. I hope you enjoy this series or the odd story or two. Lady Demiya |
| Nobody can determine the outcome of his or her life. Only a few days ago, my dear son, Boromir asked me what I would do if I were able to yield such a power. "Mother, if you knew what your future held, would you be here, in this bed, in Minas Tirith?" I must say, such a question baffled me, and I had to promise my son to give him an answer after I had time to think. So, now I reflect back to the very day this part of my life began. The start of a life and journey I did not want. ... Minas Tirith, 16th of March, 2976 TA 12 Years Earlier It was my wedding day, and like most women of Middle-earth, I should have been rejoicing in the matter. However, those other women were the lucky ones. They were able to marry for love and devotion. I had not been so fortunate. My father, Adrahil had arranged my marriage to the Steward of Gondor's son, Lord Denethor. Being married into such a noble family should have made me feel happy and secure. But what happiness could my betrothed give me when he was twenty years my senior? I thought of my father and wondered how he could have so easily married me off to strengthen the ties with Minas Tirith. I was a Princess of Dol Amroth! That was my title - Princess Finduilas of Dol Amroth - not Lady Finduilas of Minas Tirith. No! I vowed I would never answer to such a title. I was a Princess, born and raised. I sat back in my chair and sighed heavily. I thought of my betrothed, Lord Denethor. I had only met him three times before. On all occasions, he was polite in a courtly fashion. However, I could not see him as a sensual lover behind closed doors. My sister, Ivriniel had told how amazing her wedding night had turned out to be. Personally, I could not see sharing a bed with Lord Denethor as something that I would call 'amazing'. I told my father that. Valar forgive me! I should never have said such words to him. He told me I was duty bound to my people and Gondor. I knew I must give the Steward Line a healthy, strong male heir. I prayed that such a thing would happen sooner rather than later. I would rather produce an heir and let that be the end of it! He only needed one son; he does not even need a daughter, and I refused to go through all that pain and suffering of labour just so he was pleased in the nights. I shook the thoughts away and focused on the task before me. The handmaiden who had been appointed to look after me, carefully brushed my hair, making it shine in the light. I sighed; I wished my life did not have to be this way. My older sister, Ivriniel was fortunate enough to marry for love. That was probably why she was able to find such pleasure during the nights. Nevertheless, her husband died in service to our father, and she was left broken hearted. I spent a good four months at her side while she mourned him. There was a knock on my chamber door. "Come in," I said casually. To my pleasure, my younger brother, Imrahil entered, dressed elegantly for my wedding. "My dear sister, you must be the most beautiful woman in all of Middle-earth." I blushed, lowering my head. "Brother, you are too kind." "You are a kind-hearted woman, Finduilas. You deserve kindness in return," he replied. I looked back at him and saw worry in his eyes. Imrahil was against my marriage to Lord Denethor. He fought with Father on numerous occasions to end the betrothal. My brother cared for me greatly and did not want to see me married off to a man who was old enough to be my father. "Is... have you seen Lord Denethor?" I asked nervously. Imrahil shifted on the spot. "Yes, he is talking to his father and ours in the throne room." I nodded, feeling my nerves swell within me. I was so scared to meet Denethor at the altar. The wedding was to take place in the Great Hall of Feasts. It was a building next to the Tower of Ecthelion in the citadel. "Brother, I-I am scared." Imrahil walked over to me and ushered the maid away. He embraced me from behind, looking into the mirror before me. "When you are married, at any time; day or night, if you feel scared, if you need me; all you need to do is leave. I will sail up the Anduin, just to bring you home." I placed my hand on his arm. "I would never be able to do such a thing. Once Denethor and I are married, I will be the future Stewardess of Gondor." "You are still a Princess of Dol Amroth," he replied, standing up straight. "You will always be welcome back home." Home, I thought. Dol Amroth was my home. I wanted to go back there so badly and smell the ocean breeze. In Minas Tirith, there was no such sensation; the breeze that came was cold and icy. It was even so in the summer season. I was no longer living in a coastal environment. My gaze drifted over to the window, where Mordor was staring back at me. "Brother." Imrahil saw my gaze at the window. He walked over and pulled to curtains closed to shield the view. "You need not look in that direction, sister." "How can I live so close to such evil?" "You are strong," he replied gently. "You will survive." I could still see the red light from the eruptions of Mount Doom seeping through the curtains. I shivered, hating the fact that I was bound to live on the border of Mordor. ... Imrahil led me down the aisle towards my future – Lord Denethor. My betrothed was standing next to his father, with mine on the other side of the aisle. All three men were smiling at me. I felt so uneasy, walking down the aisle with hundreds of eyes watching my every move. I had no choice but to smile in return and seem content with my marriage. I noticed Ivriniel was standing behind father, seeming to be in some kind of daze. Like Imrahil, she was also against the marriage. I knew she would not last long without my comfort; she needed me, and I needed her. When I approached Denethor, Imrahil kissed my hand, and then handed it to Denethor. I took a deep breath as he led me to the altar, where Lord Ecthelion was standing before us, ready to conduct the wedding. I stared at Ecthelion's hands as he moved them about whilst speaking. I barely caught on to his words. In fact, the whole ceremony felt as if a dream, and I finally came back to reality when I realised Denethor was leading me down the aisle with a crowd of people following. I saw my hand, which was hooked into his arm, had a ring above my betrothal ring. It had happened; I was finally married. A gathering was held in the throne room while the Great Hall of Feasts was transformed into a dining hall. I felt out of place. Denethor would not leave my side, and wherever I went, he went. I felt like a child that had to be constantly watched. As we walked around the room, many people gave their congratulations and blessings. As always, I was polite. Finally, my father managed to pull me away from my husband's grip to a corner of the room. "You need to hold yourself together, my daughter," my father said sternly. I frowned at him, trying to seem confused. "Whatever do you mean, Father?" "I know you are trying to be polite and not sincere, but I know your heart is really telling you to run off back to Dol Amroth." I lowered my head shamefully. As much as I hated my father for making me marry a man I did not love, I still loved him for being my father and a wonderful ruler to the people of Belfalas. "I am sorry father. It is just... I am overwhelmed by everything happening at once." "I know." He kissed my brow. "Look around you; these people will eventually be your people, and you will rule as Denethor's right hand in all matters. You will be equivalent to a Queen of Gondor." I sighed. I did not want to think of myself as a queen, or comparable to one. "Father, I cannot think like that. One day the true heir to the throne will come forth, and find a queen of his own." My father's face darkened. "Daughter, such a thing has not happened in thousands of years. What makes you think it will happen now?" "Is it so bad to hope?" "You have a fools hope," my father replied. "No heir of Isildur will ever come forth; not in our lifetime. You will be the First Lady of Gondor, and you will make me proud." "Why... why did you not make Ivriniel marry Lord Denethor? She is older than me." "Ivriniel is a widow," he replied. "Why would I offer a widowed daughter, when I have an untouched daughter to offer?" "Does it make any difference?" My father raised his eyebrows. "Men prefer to have a wife who has not been bedded by another man. Have you ever wondered why whores and harlots have such a hard time finding a husband?" "Well... yes, but Ivriniel is no whore!" Dear Valar, how I hated that word! "Either way, she has been wedded and bedded. Perhaps if she were my only daughter, Lord Ecthelion would have accepted the offer, but you are younger, possibly more fertile, and you are a virgin. This is why you are more compatible than your sister." I looked across the room at Denethor, who was talking to his father and my brother. "I will never understand the minds of men." My father laughed. "And men will never understand the minds of women." I rolled my eyes as my father escorted me back to my husband. Eventually, we were back in the Great Hall of Feasts, where I was seated between Denethor and Imrahil. I would have preferred a warm conversation with my brother, but my husband insisted on making conversation. "How are you? I have hardly spoken to you all day," Denethor asked. I smiled politely at him. "I am well. Everything has been so hectic; I do not blame you for not speaking earlier." He nodded, seeming to be stuck on my words. "It has not been so bad. Today was rather pleasant." I opened my mouth, but found it difficult to reply. He was debating me! We had been married for less than a day, and he was already questioning my words. How dare him! "I am sorry if I see life differently to you, my lord." "Differently; how so?" I looked at my brother, who was talking to Ivriniel on his other side. I wished one of them could save me from this meaningless conversation. "I grew up by the sea, my lord. I am more suited to a relaxed, simple life," I managed to reply. "You, on the other hand, have lived here in Minas Tirith all your life, and have become accustomed to a livelier, busy schedule." He smiled at me, which was something I was not expecting. "My lady, now I understand. Forgive me if I misunderstood you before. What you say is true. Believe me when I say that you will become accustomed to a busier schedule." I nodded, and did not bother replying. I just wanted this feast to be over, but of course, Denethor still wished to continue speaking. "I am sorry you will be leaving your family behind in Dol Amroth." He paused, and seemed to be search for his next words. "I want to be a good husband. I know I am older and probably the last man you thought to marry. Nevertheless, I believe you and I can at least become friends. Is that too much to ask?" I blinked, stunned by his words. Was it so obvious that I did not want to be his wife? "My-my lord, if I have ever given the impression that I wished not to marry you, I am sorry." He chuckled. "My lady, I know what I see in you is nerves. I understand your stress and confusion. You are in a new city, which is far larger than the city you grew up in, you are married to a man you barely know, and now you have duties far difficult than you are used to." A small smile formed on my lips. Perhaps, maybe perhaps I could at least become his friend. He seemed to understand me so well for someone who knew so little about me. "I am glad you understand, my lord." "If you need anything, or want anything, all you have to do is ask me," Denethor replied. His hand moved over mine and slightly squeezed it. I watched our hands together and wondered if the life I had dreaded for so long would be so bad... |