Lionhearted

Chapter One: Mortality

Authors note: so since I have recently endeavored to learn horseback riding and even bought a horse and took my first fall from a horse. I have shifted my focus from the elves to the men of Rohan. One in particular has always caught my eye simply because well he's handsome has some flaws and his story is kind of like "whoa that's how that played out!? Cool!" Lothloriel isn't your average lady of Gondor in this either. She would come off as way too shallow for Eomer I think. This begins at the days before the march on the black gates. Snippets of prior scenes and things will come. As well as how lothloriel ended up where she is in this chapter. May be somewhat cliche may not be. Could be unique and a little au from tolkiens world Idk but I hope all of you can enjoy the story I hope to tell. :) read review and comment.

Disclaimer: I own nothing you may recognize as tolkiens work or from the movies by Peter Jackson. Refer back to this as you wish throughout the book.

"Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. And so we ask ourselves will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we are gone,and will they wonder who we were, how bravely we fought how fiercely we loved?

If they ever tell my story let them say I walked with heroes. Men rise and fall like the winter wheat but these names will never die. Let them say I lived in the time of Eomer tamer of horses. Let them say I lived in the time of Elessar the king returned. "

(Revised quote from the movie Troy)

"Mortality.

The bane of all men upon this good earth. In which every breath may be your last. When the days may seem long and toiling but when glancing back the years seem to pass so quickly. To see a young boy grow to a man and then wither and die. To see the young girl become a fair maid her body changed with carry a child and then the wrinkles about her comely face. Then death.

Mortality.

Children help combat this mortality we all have. Giving us all hope that our memory will live on in our children and their children after. Children in times as dark as these are a curse more so than a blessing. Too many hands of sons have I held that yearned for their mother. Too many fathers and brothers have I seen pass before my own eyes.

Mortality.

Some may seek out glory in deeds done upon the battlefield to have their names remembered forever. In such dark times as these this is as much of a curse. The young and old die. And widows weep acrid tears of bitter grief. War in these dark days is far too real to all of us.

Mortality you see is simply the bane that comes with the beauty of being able to cherish each moment as if it's your last. It is being able to age and die as all natural things do. Death you see makes everything that much more enjoyed. It makes a child that much more cherished. It makes a warrior that much more remembered. Mortality after all is simply being able to die.

How I hate it so. My father and brothers are gone off to battle and I reside here against my fathers permission and without his knowledge in the white city. I attend to the wounded in the houses of healing. They go to die and I have come here to save every life that I can. For I fear it will be much worse in the weeks to come.

The sky has darkened day by day. And the cold seems to linger in the still moments between skirmishes. My first few days here have awakened within me a new awareness of exactly how sheltered I have been. How far removed I have been to all of this death and darkness that this war holds.

I came here to help in anyway a woman can. Not a noble lady of dol Amorth you see. No lothloriel princess of Dol Anorth can't be here where I am. Sariel can be. For she is a simple girl with some knowledge of healing that comes from a master of the healing arts in Dol Amorth. I am here and do and will continue to do what I can to help these men that suffer for us all.

Yours Sariel. "

She read over the penned words as she sat upon her cot. This was a normal occurrence in the weeks since she arrived. Perhaps it was a way of helping her remember what her purpose here was. She placed the journal beneath her pillow and stood to walk toward the door.

The bustling room filled with cots and injured men was over full. She made her way easily and quickly to begin her tasks. She mostly worked at night beside the healers to stabilize conditions or contain fevers. Tonight after the first day of the siege on Minas Tirith this would be different than any things she had faced since.

The fate of the world was depending on this battle. She concentrated on the present. She would have time to fear for her own life once the whole of the city was over run.

'It appears sooner rather than later'

She came upon the charge nurse who directed her to passing out bandages. She quickly followed the directive and ran out of bandages long before the need was met. She ran toward the lines closet taking all the sheets and a knife she kept tucked in her apron and set about making more. As she finished and passed them out her brow was slick with sweat.

"Sariel tis time to pick up needle and sinew and stitch the men already seen by the healer you will follow them and stitch what is needed. "

She didn't spare a response and went to where the healers were. A man lay with severe burns and a horrible gash upon his head. Most likely from the building he hid in being hit by a burning projectile. The building would have crumbled under its weight.

Her movements while sticking remedies her of her lessons when she was a girl. Embroidering lessons and learning how to move like a lady had filled her younger years.

At least her lessons could be put to good use. 'Twas no different than stitching a mans flesh together or cloth. If you could ignore the screams.