Corsairs and Corsets RPG [Archive] - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:50 PM

Manardariel’s post:

Tessa woke up. Pushing her thick, brown curls out of her face, she streched around cat-like, squinting around the unfamiliar room. It took her a moment to realize she was in Minas Tirith, not in her room at home in Dol Amroth. Tessa tiptoed out of bed, careful not to awake her peacefully sleeping sister. The girl peered out of the window, trying to get used to the unfamiliar view unfolding under her eyes. As far as Tessa´s eyes could reach, she saw houses, streets, carts and so many people! The sun had barely risen, and they were already crowding thre city, bustling and babbeling; giving her an idea what she had to expect from the next few years. Not that bad, no. In fact, Tessa liked it. It reminded her of the big spring-market back in Dol Amroth, a big attraction in that lazy, beautiful sea town. Tessa crept back into bed, but she couldn´t go to sleep. Instead, she studied Finduilas. Her sister looked stunningly beautiful, even now that she was asleep. Tessa snuggled in her arms. “Tessa.... lemme sleep...” the woman grumbled. The girl smiled and gently tickled her stomach. “Tessa! Stop it!” She pulled her hand away. Grinning, she gave her sister a hug and wispered “Rise and shine, Lady of Gondor. Today´s your big day!”

My big day, Finduilas thought. Half-smiling, half-frowning, she recalled all the “big days” she´d had in the last few months- the day father had announced her wedding to Denethor, the steward to-be. The day she´d left Dol Amroth. And today, when she´d first meet her husband and all the court of Minas Tirith would be her big day. Like her wedding, like the birth of her first son would be “big days”. Like every day she lived and breathed could be a big day. Finduilas pulled on the richly embroided, white gown she´s be wearing today. With Tessa´s help, she put up her hair into an elaborate bun, and slipped on two beautiful, fish-formed earrings. Adjusting her shawl –it was a bit cool- she looked at her sister. Little Tessa seemed lost in adoration. “I think I´m ready,” Finduilas said quitely. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of that girl worshipping her like she was some kind of goddess. “Oh Finduilas, you´re so gorgeous!” Tessa cried, hugging her sister. “You´ll be the most beautiful Lady ever”

Nervously, Finduilas tapped her foot. She was to meet the important figueres of the court first, the the Steward and then, at last, Denethor, her future husband. Right now, she was greeting every lady, girl and mother of Gondor, or so it seemed. She smiled, looked elegant and tried hard to remember name after name after name after.... from time to time she caught Tessa´s look.
“How do I look?”

“Brilliant.” Tessa mouthed. With a mock look, she added “You Lady you!”

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:50 PM

Hirilaelin's post

The muffled clang of a metal vase falling to the carpeted floor startled Rheaite from her musings. She bent low, and retrieved the ornately etched vase, setting back where it belonged. So much to clean! Finduilas, bride-to-be of Denethor, would be arriving soon...

At that precise moment, trumpets sounded outside the gates, three bold, brassy notes filling the air. She must have come early! Making sure that all was in order, Rhe set the feather duster down on the low wooden table, and set off at a run down the hall. Everyone was supposed to be gathered in the enormous recieveing hall right now, and here she was, losing track of time with another of her far-fetched fantasys. Her mother's voice echoed in her memories, scolding her. "Rheaite! How many times do I have to tell you to get your head out of the clouds! Honestly girl! People will think you're not all there in the head if you stand about all slack jawed and dull eyed! Now get to work!"

Grimacing, Rhe tryed to banish the memory, but her the shrill tones still seemed to circle 'round inside her skull, screeching at her. Shaking her head furiously, she pelted pell-mell down the hall towards the grand hall. Stopping short of the doors, she brushed her dress out, patted her back into place, and slowly, cautiously, pushed open the doors. Sliding inside, she took her place in the rustling throng, closing the doors carefully behind her. Muttering apologys, she pushed towards the front to get a better view. At the far end of the cavernous room, towering doors stood open, A sudden hush rippled through the crowd, as the trumpeters called out the introductions.

After the minor ladies, servants, maids and a small group of soldiers passed through the doors, Finduilas finally appeared. Dressed in white gown with exquisite embroidery, she was stunning. Her dark, curling hair was piled on top of her well formed head in a bun, and a gauzy shawl was draped across her perfect shoulders. Rhe gaped. One to rival even the lady Dryea. She seemed to float down the hall, her perfect carriage enhancing her height and shapely figure.

But even as Rhe was admiring the lady, and thinking of what a perfect bride she would make Denethor, years of training took over. It did not matter how beautiful she was, how graceful, how perfect, she was an enemy. Even if she did come from Dol Amroth, she had agreed to marry Denethor, future steward, the enemy of the corsairs. Finduilas was nothing more than a traitor.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:51 PM

elven maiden Earwen's post

Eleniel sat up slowly in bed. She was really tired. She looked around, and it took her a few minutes to register that she was in Minas Tirith. It was Finduilas’s big day. Eleniel got up and pulled back her curtains. Bright light streamed though, illuminating her room. She began getting dressed. She pulled on a green dress. It had been embroidered on it in gold was a turtle. Around her waist a golden and green thread were entwined and sewed on. It was her favorite dress and it had been made just for her for this special occasion. She pulled her long, dark, black hair into two braids and slipped on her shoes.

Eleniel looked out the window. She could see much of the White City from where she sat perched on the long windowsill. She saw the great walls that surrounded the city. The city was awake and moving. There were houses and shops that lined the streets. There were people with horses, and just walking. There were guards, and nobles, and peasants everywhere. This absolutely, positively, unquestionably, without doubt wasn’t a boring city. Eleniel pulled open her window, and leaned outside. She felt the cool fresh air fly though her. This was a wonderful city. But still she would always think Dol Amroth better.

She shut her window and walked out of her room. I need to check up on Finduilas and Tessa she thought as she headed towards their room. *Knock knock knock* Tessa opened the door. “Good morning” Eleniel said as she followed Tessa into the room. *Gasp* There was Finduilas. “Finduilas you look beautiful!” she exclaimed. Finduilas stood there in an elegant ornately embroidered white dress. Her hair was pulled back in a sophisticated bun and her shawl was perfectly dainty and simple. Finduilas looked gorgeous. But she always did look stunning but took day she looked better than ever before.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:51 PM

Varda's post

Elena heard the sound of feet running past the door of the library. Snapping her heavy book shut, she went and looked out the large window, curiously to see what was drawing everyone’s attention, and saw the arrival of Finduilas and her maids.

It seemed the whole of Minas Tirith was excited about the arrival of this strange woman from Dol Amroth, here to be married to Denethor. Those that weren’t so excited were jealous, at least that was the impression Elena had picked up from the gossiping maids around the court, and the frowns worn on the faces of the nobility, hoping to have married off their daughters to the future Steward.

Elena, in truth, felt very little about Finduilas’ arrival. It was just another woman who had looked for Denethor’s attention, hoping for marriage, only this time the woman had actually succeeded. What reason had a girl like Elena to care too deeply about it? Hopefully, it would at least bring some excitement to the court of Minas Tirith, which, if anything, had only become increasingly dull of late. Even the maids had been running out of gossip to tell each other. Surely, there would be a few parties in Finduilas’ honour, and then, Elena felt sure, there was a chance to have some fun.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:52 PM

Everdawn's post

It was nearing dusk and the wind was high in Dol Amroth, Vieana hurried down the road from the palace, clutching her basket close to her. She had previously been there talking with her friends, she had bid Tessa and Finduilas and a few other of her friends goodnight and returned home. Leaving the palace, several guards had bowed to her and she swiftly nodded back. Vieana stood at the front of the gates of her home, which she shared with Dol Amroth high guard and son of a Dol Amroth general, Dardanir. It was a huge mass of sandstone, fenced by the same material with huge cast iron gates facing the exterior. Vieana was concealed under her emerald cloak, which prompted the guard at the front of her house to call out “Halt who goes there”

“Its me!” she called laughing. The guard bowed and let her pass. “So sorry madam” he stammered. “Not at all soldier, it’s nice to know that we are protected by such fine men!” This was typical of her; Vieana was one for giving compliments. Her father always marvelled at where Vieana lived, although her house was not as nearly grotesque in magnificence as her father’s mansion. Her father had been very glad that she married Dardanir, he said “Provides you with security me dear, and a handsome income.”

Vieana opened the door to the house and placed her basket down on a near by table. “Vieana my love, are you home?” a voice called from a side room, it was the voice of her husband Dardanir. He was tall and well built, with black shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes, the perfect picture of a man, except for a scar down his left cheek. But Vieana never minded, she said it “added character”. He walked up to her and took her cloak. And led her to the lounge where she sat in front of the fire. Husband and wife talked for some time before Dardanir asked “You haven’t changed you mind have you? You are still going to start for Minas Tirith tomorrow?”
“I am, the universities there offer the best in medical education.” She said taking her hand in his.

The colour had drained from Dardanir’s face, as it did every time she mentioned the universities. “But, Vieana, what about our plans? I thought we were going to settle here, start a family!” he frowned. “We can still have a family, and besides, its not like I am going away forever, and you yourself spend more time there than you ever do here. And you know that whenever you need to see me you can get leave, your father can see to that.” He embraced her “You always seem to get the better of me, that’s why I love you so much.” They were quiet. Dardanir spoke again “Do you think Finduilas will be happy after you know…”
“…After the sea captain incident?... You know what? I think she will be very happy.” Vieana laughed and left to pack for the next day.

Vieana had arrived in Minas Tirith along with the others the night before Finduilas was to meet her new husband. She had not time to see anything as it was dark. Vieana slept well though she was woken early the next day. “Finduilas’ big day” she sighed to herself as she opened a door to a balcony and looked upon the huge city of Minas Tirith. “I do hope she will be happy.” She spoke aloud to no one. Vieana had a dress made for the occasion. It was grey, silver and white, her favourite colours, though one would argue she wore them too often. Vieana decided to wear her hair down, and placed upon her breast, the blue lily jewel her husband had given her. Taking one final look in the mirror, she headed down the corridor after one of the servants who took her to the other ladies.

Vieana smiled in admiration at Finduilas. She looked the picture of perfection. “I am sorry I am so late” she said waving to the others. “My dear, you do look wonderful, Dethenor will not be able to take his eyes off you.”

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:52 PM

Wren's post

Lessawen hopped out of bed eager to begin her day, for tomarrow would be her day off and these days always seemed to fly by. She dressed hurriedly in a simple grey dress with a white pinafore over the top. It had large pockets for holding her tools of the trade like cleaning cloths, combs, brushes, even toys for when she was helping in the nursery.

Today she skipped down to the kitchen to grap a quick bite to eat and help the cook prepare breakfast. She chatted chearfully with the kindly woman about her plans for the morrow. "I have learned of a park with a pond where swans and ducks can enjoy the water. I'm going to take my lunch for a picnic." She watched as the cook carefully took her bread from the oven, and set it on the wide countertop. Then Lessawen found a knife and began to slice the bread for the cook. Grinning at the older women and enjoying the smells of the fresh bread, she slathered the newly cut pieces with sweet butter. She helped the cook load up serving trays with many different kinds of fruit, not dishes, cold dishes, milk, cream, juice and wine.

Then she ran back upstairs to see if she was needed. The lady of the household was awake and needing some help with her buttons. She smiled when she saw Lessawen, because the new girl had proven herself to be gentle and careful in her attentions. Once she had the lady all buttoned up she began to brush her hair, being very careful not to pull too hard on the tangles, then she divided the woman's hair into two sections, braided each section and styled them in coils around her head.

When all of the ladies had dressed and there hair was fixed and combed to their satisfaction, Lessawen could begin her cleaning of the rooms. She carefully made the big beds. Plumping the pillows, and putting away the nightclothes. She carefully dusted the beautiful furniture with a clean white cloth, when it shining and gleaming. Then she cleaned the fireplace's ashes of the previous night. Scooping them into her bucket was a messy buisiness, and she often needed to clean herself when she was done.

Now it was time to turn her attentions to the floors. She swept up the dust which inevitably gets tracked in, and then it was time to mop. Getting down to her hands and she knees she wiped the entire floor's surface with a moistend cloth. She worked her way towards the door. With this room finished she made her way to the next. Thinking to herself, "Only nine more to go!"

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:52 PM

Durelin's post

"You're lucky my wooden spoon isn't my favorite pitch fork!" Vernathitia, Head Cook of the Kitchens of Minas Tirith, shouted at the men and women rushing back and forth around her. The kitchens of Minas Tirith were a busy place, especially with guests. Ladies of Dol Amroth, and the Lady Finduilas herself, the woman who was to wed the Steward's son! And the wedding itself was not far away.

"Those red-currant tarts better be in the ovens!" Vernathitia, called Vern by anyone she considered a friend or of higher status, strode over to peer over the shoulder of a young girl with blonde curls at a large pot.

"What are you doing girl!" she screeched in utter astonished anger. "The potatoes should have gone in five minutes ago!"

The girl stared up at the imposing woman with large eyes filled with horror, her knees wobbling. Cowering beneath the gaze she lowered her eyes only to stand there.

"Well what are you waiting for, girl? For the taters to grow legs and leap into the soup?"
As the honey-haired girl jumped to grab the potatoes Vern suddenly gasped. The girl jumped. "The salmon!" she cried. Seeing the girl, Vern turned to her with a reassuring look. "No, not you." The girl relaxed and Vern raced off to the back of the kitchens.

Right next to the strangely curved wall at the back, six large grey fish lay on a polished stone surface. Vern quickly grabbed the fileting knife and attacked one of the fish, pulling out herbs and spices. Then the door behind her opened and two young men came up the stairs from the cellar, carrying large wheels of various cheeses. The two were speaking intently to one another.

"…and you know what the Lady Dryea says," said the taller of the two. He had short dark hair and eyes. "What?" asked the other boy. He was a head shorter and had lighter and longer hair. "She says she's not sure about these ladies who came with the Lady Finduilas, from Dol Amroth," the dark haired one continued, "And she thinks they aren't really from there."

That was all Vern needed. She had never really known the Lady Dryea or any of her retinue, they seemed quite normal to Vern. The Lady Dryea seemed nice enough, and her family had been in Minas Tirith for quite a while. Now these ladies…she'd just have to keep an eye on them. And of course she'd notify the Lady Emilia about this, that was her job. It would do her quite a lot of good if --

"Ow!" she cried. She had cut herself neatly down her finger instead of the fish. "I have to pay attention to my work, then I can worry about giving my information to m'Lady," she mumbled to herself.

"What was that you said, Mistress Vernathitia?" asked the light haired boy carrying the cheese. She had completely forgotten about the two. "Oh do shut up!" she yelled. "And give that bloody cheese to Master Domon!"

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:53 PM

Arien´s post

Alethea lay on her four poster bed. It was covered in a beige spread with several soft cushions sprawled over it. Muslin hung down from the post and were eloquently tied back with golden ribbons. Her dress, which was now no doubt getting creased, was a rich gold. The sleeves covered her bronzed arms and stopped , tied with a weaving lace on the inner wrists. Her corset was tied tightly, with a golden ribbon weaved in at the back. Her front was decorated with a simple starburst of Citrine jewels, backed with the same golden colour, in silk. The bottom part was simple and purely flowed to the floor. Her hair hung loosely in attractive and refined ringlets. Upon her feet she wore simple golden slippers.

Her mother was with her sister. There was no change there. She always would help her get ready as she was the ‘eldest’. Alethea doubted this, it was probably favouritism. Everyone seemed to like Dryea more, but this didn’t really bother her that much. She liked the friends she had.

Alethea got up slowly and peered into the mirror. Resting on her tanned face her eyelashes were thick and dark and her eyes had a faint golden shimmer swept over them. And on her lip elusively hung a brush of intense red. She smiled, her small perfect pearl teeth shone. So today she would be meeting Findulas. The one person, she thought, that could ruin all their planning. Her sister and mother didn’t seem to be bothered about the new oncoming presence but she certainly was. What if she told that they were not from Dol Amroth? But then again her and her maids could be used to their advantage. Maybe it was time to put some of their skills into practice once more. Her trail of thought was suddenly lost by knock on the door. A maid entered.
“Miss, your mother and sister are waiting,” she said timidly.

“Thank you,” Alethea smiled. She quickly sprayed her self with a fragrance of lavender, checked that she had her knife- which was kept beneath the skirt and briskly walked out of her room, locking the door behind her and slipping the key into a purse that hung from her side. She met her mother and sister on the landing, who both looked equally stunning.

“Shall we go then?” she smiled and they proceeded to walk down to the hall. Down there was array of beautiful women and handsome men. Alethea sat beside her Minas Tirith friends and watched as Findulas and her maids entered the court. For better or for worse she whispered to herself.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:53 PM

Maikafanawen's post

Dryea Morthaniawen stood in front of the full-length mahogany mirror in her bedchamber, studying her elegant ensemble. Her amber hair was piled on top of her head in elaborate curls and held in place by decorative pins. Her dress was of crimson velour with a seven-inch wide strip of embroidered flowers on cream velour running down the front. Darts on the left and right fronts of the bodice gave it a shapely look and enhanced her exotic figure. The sleeves were snug and ran gracefully down the entire length of each arm, stopping at a point above each delicate hand.

“Exquisite,” said her mother, coming up behind her, dressed equally as ravishing in dark blue velour. She dismissed the maids with a polite nod and smooth out a slight wrinkle on the sleeve. “What about jewelry?” she asked. Dryea glided over to her vanity and chose a long gold chain from which hung a beautiful medallion. The medallion was inlaid with sapphires and was of a fine ship, with tall masts and billowing sails, representing Dol Amroth. The lady also chose a delicate array of bangles that she slid onto her wrist. Taking another look in the mirror, she was satisfied with the view.

“Splendid.” Then the daughter did something unexpected for a lady. She opened a secret drawer in her vanity and withdrew a dagger of unique make and tucked it into a fold in her dress. Her mother didn’t blink an eye for she too held such a weapon. But these noblewomen of Minas Tirith were not at all as they appeared.

Sent here years ago, the mother was a spy from the corsairs whose stronghold lay at Umbar: a city in Harad. For many years the sea-faring men had been looting merchant ships and living off their plunder. Dryea had been raised knowing only what her mother had taught her. So she had believed that her deeds were noble and for the good of her people. However, now as she grew older, and with age came wisdom, she realized that her actions were nothing short of vengeful. But she didn’t change her ways. She thought only of power. And the day when she would rule Gondor and the corsairs would rule the seas yet again. That thought always brought a wicked smile to her magnificent face.

Soon they were joined by Dryea’s younger sister, Alethea. Together, the three of them walked down their corridor length and down the stairwell to the hall where they were being introduced to Lady Finduilas of Dol Amroth, and future Lady of Minas Tirith. This may or may not impose a threat to Dryea and her mother’s plans. If she turns out to be easily susceptible to her charm, she could prove to be an important ally. If not. . .

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” her mother had said unsteadily as she nodded greeting to guards as they were permitted to enter the hall. It was beautifully decorated with tapestries that hung from the ceiling and were carefully woven with portraits of past kings and stewards of Gondor. Dryea walked down the length of carpet, following the other ladies of the court, until she stopped in front of Finduilas. She was just as, if not more, stunning in appearance than Dryea. The lady looked very confident, although, thought Dryea thinking back to the first time she had come to the citadel, she must be very nervous. She bowed her head slightly in due respect and gave her a reassuring motherly smile and a wink. Finduilas seemed to relax a bit at Dryea’s friendliness and continued greeting the court.

Dryea Morthaniawen then took her place beside her friends of Minas Tirith and watched the procession closely, taking in all the new faces and their unique characteristics whether it be fan-waving, eye-batting, or a slight hop to their walk. Dryea knew almost everything to be known about each member of the court. Soon, she would also know about this Finduilas of Dol Amroth!

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:53 PM

Elora's post

Lady Ruiel Morthaniawen critically examined her daughter's appearance. Dryea was an flawlessly beautiful woman and on this occassion there could be no flaw. Too much was at stake and the Gondorian nobles would be paying close attention. Already Ruiel had recevied word of the bubbling resentment towards Finduilias and the Dol Amroth contingent, an encouraging possibility not to be squandered by a wrong footed entrance now. Finding no blemish in her radiant beauty, Ruiel smiled at her daughter.

"Exquisite," she said in approval, her voice it's usual cultured alto musical tone. Ruiel waved the maids from the chambers after favouring one in particular with a small smile. The dressing completed, and stood beside her fair daughter before the mirror. Youth and maturity stared back at her. Ruiel smoothed the luxuriant nap of her indigo, paneled gown that fell in graceful folds from her lush, curved hips. The bodice, tightly bound to her ripened torso, emphasied the feminine curve of her figure. Ruiel, though not in the grip of youthful beauty, was a woman come into the maturity of her own handsomeness.

"What about jewellry," Ruiel prompted. Dryea crossed to the richly carved vanity to finish her preparations. She stowed a dagger, delicately worked for all it's lethal edge, and tucked it into her glorious crimson gown. The decadent colour set her golden skin off to perfection, as had been intended when the bolt of fabric had been purchased some weeks ago and sent to the dressmakers for work.

Ruiel, who saw all as an investment that must provide her the expected return, the cost of the wardrobe she'd commissioned for this journey was well invested. Her daughter was as beautiful and deadly as the dagger she had hidden in her dress. Her daughter added a extraordinary medallion and fine golden bracelets that gently chimed to her slim wrists. Then she turned to re-examine her appearance.

Dryea lifted her chin at her reflection and satisfaction gleamed in her sapphire gaze. "Splendid," Dryea finally agreed.

Ruiel, amber hair was wound intricately around her head, turned for the door to see where her other daughter dallied. On her fingers gleamed a fiery ruby set in an ornately carved ring, the betrothal ring of her dead husband. A golden torc, twisted delicately into trailing vines and flowers by a clever smith, gleamed at the base of her long throat. The heavy fabric of her gown whispered as she walked, augmented by Dryea who accompanied her.

Alethea emerged from her chambers, dressed in the gold gown as Ruiel had instructed. Well pleased with her daughters, who would gleam as jewels in Gondor this day, bright and beckoning to the already beleaugered Finduilias who was also newly arrived from Dol Amroth. If the child did not take the bait, then it little mattered to Ruiel. The trio smoothly walked towards the hall where the lords and ladies in attendance were gathering.

"We will cross bridges as we come to them," Ruiel gently reminded her daughters, moreso Dyrea who had glanced at her mother prior to entering the hall. Standing graceful, they moved like swans through the knots of people, Ruiel nodding here and there to those faces it suited her to acknowlede until they came to Lady Finduilias.

Her youth was striking, as was her beauty. Denethor had not chosen from his own city, but Ruiel could see why he had risked the censure of his nobles to snatch up Finduilias. That was all well and good, provided the child did not impede more imporant matters, like the cedeing of Umbar's lands back to them in accordance with ancient birthright. No vassal of Gondor, no matter how beautiful, would stymie her on that score.

Dryea and Alethea stood on either side of their mother, hands clasped elegantly before them and schooled expressions of charming welcome upon their faces. Ruiel herself curved her lips into a motherly smile of greeting, and swept into a graceful cursty before the bride.

"Lady Finduilias, greetings and felicitations on your impending wedding. Lady Ruiel Morthaniawen of Dol Amroth at your service."

Finduilias smiled, anxious in this strange place with it's cool Gondorian nobles around her. Ruiel had calculated her smile, warmth and the familiar name of Dol Amroth to be a powerful relaxant. She smoothly rose once more.

"I introduce to you my daughters, Dryea and Alethea, who had accompanied me to witness the glorious upcoming event," Ruiel said. Dryea and Alethea curtsied sweetly, allowing Ruiel the opportunity to covertly guage the level of attention they were garnering. More than one set of eyes focused on their gathering, notably upon Dryea, as Ruiel had hoped.

She returned her focus to Finduilias, who in turn greeted her daughters. Ruiel projected comforting, gentle warmth through her smile at the bride, a stranger in this less than receptive court. Then, she stepped back to allow Finduilias to continue with the procession of greetings. Time would see if the girl was so alone here as to reach for a seemingly comforting presence of a friend. Flanked by her daughters, Ruiel continued her inspection of those gathered. Yes, she thought with the confidence of experience as she looked about, even should the girl prove recalcitrant and aloof there is still much to work with here. Lady Morthaniawen wrapped her anticipation and satisfaction around her.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:54 PM

Horse-Maiden of the Shire's post

Meirelle awoke to another maid shaking her roughly by the shoulder. "Miss Meirelle! Meirelle! You're late for your duties!" she exclaimed, now resorting to slapping her face lightly.

Meirelle groaned and pushed the maid off of the bed, resulting in a thud on the floor. "I know," she said hotly. "Besides, I'm only..." her words trailed off as she looked at the clock in her quarters. "Half an hour?!?!? Oh, cram!!" Meirelle leapt out of bed, stepping on the maid who was still sprawled out on the floor. She grabbed her dress and hastily put it on. She quickly braided her hair into a single braid and grabbed her shoes that were sitting by the door.

Meirelle hopped down the hallway as she put on first her left, then her right shoe. She turned the corner and ran into yet another maid, who said, "Oh! You're late, Meirelle!" Her response was a grumbled "I know, I know..." She finally got to the main room, and slipped in quietly. Luckily nobody seemed to notice that she was gone, so she heaved a silent sigh of relief and relaxed.

"Make way for Finduilas, bride-to-be of Denethor II, son of Ecthelion!" A man's voice pierced the air sharply. Meirelle was jostled and shoved as people moved aside to make room for the Lady. Meirelle had to stand on her toes to look over peoples' shoulders. She hadn't caught the slightest glance of Finduilas yet, but when she did she drew in her breath sharply. Finduilas was no doubt a beauty among beauties. Denethor is a lucky man! thought Meirelle, as the Lady drew away through the passage in the crowd. The man's voice continued now: "Please continue to the Party to celebrate Finduilas' arrival in our fair city!"

Meirelle followed the others to the room where the party was held. It was decorated lavishly, with beautiful curtains and tapestries on the walls. Maids and servants were bustling to and fro. Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around, to be handed a plate piled high with food. "Take this to Lady Dryea!" was the command. Meirelle made her way over to Dryea's table and handed her the plate of food. A quick glance and a small smile were her thanks as Meirelle curtsied and went off to find more duties.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:54 PM

Lyra Greenleaf´s post

“Oh dear!”
Emilia shook her head just enough to make her hair sway prettily but without tangling it. From the corner of her eye she watched the off duty City Guard.
He is looking!
Deliberately, Emilia widened her eyes.

“Oh no. What shall I do?”
Once again she looked at the Guard. He was definitely watching her. Quite appraisingly, too. Irritation flared. That was very crude of him. With an internal sigh she decided he would never do to marry. Not if he went around looking at all pretty girls like that. Still, he was attractive.

Why is he not offering to help? Oaf!
Unhappily she turned to him, deciding to try the direct approach. “Will you please help me? I’m trying to find the Houses of Healing, and I can’t remember the way.” Discreetly Emilia batted her eyelashes. It was always best to be discrete, she had never yet been accused of flirting by a man.

Annoyingly the man raised an eyebrow, and gave a slight smile.
“The Houses of Healing? And why would you be going there? You don’t look ill to me”
Insolence! The gall of this man!
Emilia was unsure how to reply. She had never been questioned in this way before! Most of the Guards would just be happy to escort her, to talk to her.

“I-I have a message for one of the healers.”
“Very well” the man replied, again with that insolent half smile. Immediately he turned and began to walk briskly, cloak swirling around his legs. Emilia hurried to follow, blood boiling. He was indeed walking briskly, she could hardly keep up.

With a start Emilia realised she was passing her own front door. Her ‘escort’ had not yet looked back to check whether she was following. With a small smile Emilia turned aside and entered her house.

I believe I win, she said to herself.

Emilia looked around the gathering in disgust. There were so many women! “Where are all the men?” she asked the old lady sitting to her left.
“Some trouble with, well I own, I hardly know who! Not those Corsairs, I don’t think. The Rohirrim? No, they’re on our side…”
Emilia sighed and wandered away. An Old Maid.
No doubt she has no-one to talk to at home so decides to bore to tears anyone she meets!

From a vantage point in a corner of the long room Emilia gazed around. There really were very few men. With satisfaction she noticed Beren. Well, there’s little fear of him going to fight anyone, she thought with contempt. Little worm! Nevertheless he is extremely good looking. He makes the City Guard look-
Emilia broke off her thought, annoyance at the man’s attitude resurfacing.
Determinedly she began to walk towards Beren. He was talking with Lorna.
Simply because she has fair hair she thinks every man should fall at her feet! Empty headed little-

“Lorna!” Emilia said, false smile spreading over her features. “And Beren!” ”Emilia” Lorna returned, smile stretched even wider.
“I am so parched. Do either of you know where I can get a drink?” Emilia asked, features showing innocence.
“I will get you one of course Emilia” Beren answered immediately.

Emilia watched him walk away with a small smile.
Men! So easy to understand and control! It’s sweet really. Except that-
Emilia cut herself off again. Not that odious man.

At Beren’s departure both women dropped their smiles.
“Emilia I was talking to him first. When you get your drink - ”
“But Lorna, I simply had to come and tell you about your hair.”
”My hair?” Lorna looked at Emilia distrustfully. Emilia was aware that somehow she had gained a reputation among the women for being manipulating. It was unfortunate, really- it made everything so much harder.

“Well yes. The interesting effect you have at the back. It’s very bold. I only hope everyone else likes it as much as I”
Lorna put a hand up to feel her hair. Emilia bit back a smile.
Nearly as easy as dear Beren!

“I think it’s commendable,” she continued “Court fashions haven’t changed in so long. Whose idea was it? The tangled look I mean?”
“T-tangled?” Lorna began, distrust still flickering in her eyes. “It’s not - ”
Time for the kill!
“Yes, tangled. Letty was saying it looked like a bird’s nest. I stood up for you of course. I think it’s a triumph.”

Both women stared towards Letty. Emilia had noticed her looking, a few moments ago. Now, of course, she quickly ducked her head. Looking back to Lorna, Emilia saw horror was blooming on her face.
“E-Excuse me” she said, walking quickly away, hands fluttering up repeatedly to touch her hair. Emilia smiled gently as she watched her leave the room, then waved at Beren, who nodded, rasing his two filled hands.

Indeed people are so easy to control, Emilia thought with satisfaction. That was a most enjoyable interlude. Now, I think, a dance? Beren dances as badly as he would fight- were he ever to try. Reniedil on the other hand…

********************************

The next morning Emilia yawned behind her hand as she waited for the girl from Dol Amroth, who was to wed Denethor.
Such a pity that we must all stand around to greet her. It was be far more agreeable to have a party. Or a ball…

A dreamy smile spread across her face at the thought. A new dress of course, perhaps a dusky rose pink like the one she had worn for her brother’s wedding. Hopefully the soldiers would be recalled to the city, for Emilia could not stand another party with just the men like Beren, too rich or cowardly to do anything.
Yes, that would do nicely…

A flash of movement in front of her distracted her attention from a detailed plan of the embroidery she would have on the bodice of her dress. As she looked up, Emilia saw the guard from yesterday. He was waving his hand at her, talking to another soldier. As he saw her looking he winked. Unbidden, a blush crept onto Emilia’s face. She willed it away, for blushing made her freckles stand out. It would not go, and she feared he would notice. Notice that he had got to her, of course, not her freckles. She wouldn’t care about the freckles. Of course not. Vexed she turned away.
Obnoxious pig of a man! she thought furiously.Where in the world is Adrama?

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:54 PM

Snowdog's post

As Ränne finished helping with Dryea's beautiful hair, a smile spread across her face.

'You are ravishing Lady Dryea!'

Ränne said as the door to the chamber opened. The Lady Morthaniawen entered and Ränne stepped back behind Dryea and lowered her eyes. As the Lady motioned her dismissal, Ränne bowed slightly and said,

'I will be working in the kitchens seeing to the service of the reception if you require me m'lady.'

And with a nod she turned and left the room, letting the door close gently.

Ränne knew of the arrival of Finduilas to the City and the wedding of Steward Denethor. So to was she aware of the influence the Lady had and the aspirations for her daughter Dryea. Surely the coming of Finduilas was a threat to all that was hoped for in house Morthaniawen. As Ränne made her way to her chamber to dress, then through the halls to the kitchens. Bumping into Meirelle, Ränne said as she hurried by,

'You're late!'

Which drew a fading "I know!" as she disappeared around the corner. Ränne's skirts flurreyed about her feet as she passed a hall where much talk could be heard. The Lady Finduilas had arrived with her party, and Ränne herself was late in her duties. Having gained a position on the kitchen waitstaff, she went to fill elegant glasses with the finest in Anfalas and Befalas red and white wines. With a grace of movement, she started out about the main reception room where the Lords and Ladies were gathering and soon her tray was empty as hands helped themselves to the goblets. Ränne made her way through the gathering to set fresh-filled glasses upon her tray. She made it a point to get to where Lady Finduilas was with her entourage, and as Ränne handed her a goblet, their eyes met for a moment. Taking what she saw in them to note, she likewise served a woman with her with blue eyes, and again a smile passed from Ränne. She could see it would be a very long day on her feet, and evermore reading the intentions of the people gathered.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:55 PM

Ealasaid's post

As they entered the great hall for the reception, Averyll, as one of the newest ladies added to Finduilas' court, found herself in the rear of the elegant party. She was not accustomed to being at court and found herself ever more and more impressed by the beauty and finery of the ladies of Minas Tirith as they swept past her on their way to pay respects to the future bride of Denethor. She glanced down at her own pale green dress with its white inserts at the sleeves and neckline that she had been so pleased with that morning, and felt instantly inferior.

"Well, it's better than mourning," she reminded herself softly. Her husband Calum, a young naval officer, had been lost at sea just over a year previous. The time since had been difficult on Averyll, but she was getting by. She thought fondly of her three year old son, whom she had been forced to leave with his grandparents in Dol Amroth. How long would it be before she would see him again? she wondered. How much will he have changed?

She sighed deeply, letting her eyes wander around the crowded room. It was ironic, the idea of her having come here for a wedding after the tragic disaster of her brief marriage. She looked forward to where Finduilas stood next to her sister Tessa, greeting the seemingly endless flow of beautiful ladies and elegant noblemen. I hope things work out better for you! she thought to herself. Not only had she lost her young husband a bare four years after their exchange of vows, but as soon as his death became known, a string of creditors had appeared at her door: gambling debts, unpaid bar tabs, unpaid bills of all kinds. Painstakingly, she had paid them all, but it had left her penniless. Out of kindness and a desire to help, her family had secured her the position with Finduilas only days before the lady's ship sailed for Minas Tirith. Now, as she watched Finduilas greet her future husband's people, Averyll felt a fierce protectiveness over the young woman.

Life could be so cruel sometimes. Finduilas would need friends in this strange new place, and Averyll intended to be there for her.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:55 PM

Annalaliath's post

Gwen stood behind the other ladies in waiting as they crowded about the court as their fine mistress enter the hall she stood watching as Denther's new bride-to -be walzed in to meet her future husband. This was all strange to her, the stone, the greyness, and weightiness. She wanted to be anywhere but here. She had brought a book with her that she kept hidden in a pocket of her white apron, it bummed against her leg lazily as she watched in the huddle that consisted of the ladies in waiting. As was usual she was being ignored, and she was thinking on what the world would be like if it were all under water. What would it be like if it all were taken by the ocean, she wondered. Then she thought, “ Then we would not be here and I would not be wearing this dress.

She looked down at herself and wondered at how she stuck out. A dark blue skirt, her own white blouse and her apron. The apron had the packets, she loved her pockets. She could keep her things in them, her books, her scraps of paper, and a bit of food saved from a meal. She likes to keep her dagger with her, a happy gift from her parents, tucked in her belt. She had no other use for it other than to eat with and that is what she did. All of this is what she thought as she watched the lady enter the court. She thought it amazing that she was thinking all this because of water.

One of the other ladies there bumped into her, she looked at the woman, who was looking at her. She must have looked peevish because at that moment she just laughed and turned away, “Ahhh, don’t worry, it was only Gwen.”

“Only Gwen,” Gwen mumbled, “Only Gwen! I do have feelings you know.” Then out of the pure shock of it she turned to the woman who had been so rude and simply said, “ I like to dissect things, especially rude people.” The woman looked quite perplexed as Gwen went back to watching her mistress and pondering her thoughts.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:55 PM

Estelyn's post:

Diorwyn’s dark hair and the folds of her soft grey dress blended with the shadows of the drapery in the hall. Though not likely to be noticed in the colourful throng of noble guests, she had an excellent view of the Steward, his family and the newcomers from Dol Amroth. Her critical eyes observed Finduilas, the designated bride, noting every detail of her perfect appearance. With a tiny sigh of relief, she turned her head to look at the dresses of the other ladies present.

“She’s beautiful,” a low voice beside her said, “and she does her seamstress honour.”

“Gwinniel!” Diorwyn exclaimed softly. “I might have known that you would be here. Nothing escapes your attention, as always.”

The lips of the white-haired woman curved upwards ever so slightly in greeting. “It appears that the princess has chosen wisely; your skill has improved even since I last saw you. I am pleased that you have come to the White City after a long absence. But tell me, how does your family? They must miss you sorely!”

“As I do them,” the younger woman answered. “Ciryandil said that they would fare well without help, but his sister lives nearby and is looking after them when needed. Our eldest spends all day at the wharves with his father, learning the shipbuilding trade. The two younger ones are still in school, though they think that they would rather be grown up already.”

“Good, good.” Gwinniel’s reply was rather preoccupied, for her gaze rested on the gown of Finduilas again. “The colour and style become her well,” she said approvingly. “You have changed the prevailing fashion in some details; now, how did you…”

The two women drifted off into a low conversation on cuts, trimmings, fabrics and figures, and if some of the ladies had heard their caustic comments, they would have fled the hall immediately to change their garments…

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:56 PM

Nurumaiel’s post:

Adrama stood with her mother Pelien, watching critically as Finduilas was introduced to the court. Her heart burned with jealousy and rage at the thought of this stranger wedding Denethor. Glancing up at her mother, she saw that she was thinking much the same. But all she wanted was for her daughter to marry Denethor, a man of great position. She didn’t realize that the young woman standing beside her had been and still was deeply in the love with him.

“Perhaps we should go greet her,” Pelien said, taking a step forward. Adrama knew it was a command, but she stood where she was and shook her head. She would not go speak to that woman who had stolen her life from her. Her mother could go, but she, Adrama, would not. What did her mother care, anyway? She didn’t understand the suffering Adrama had endured, and was now enduring as she watched Finduilas, who would wed Denethor.

Pelien gave her a warning look as she walked towards Finduilas to greet her. Adrama watched stubbornly. Suddenly she was aware of someone standing at her shoulder and she turned furiously, already knowing who it was. Yes, it was as she thought. Addruran, possibly the most annoying young man in the court. She knew he was in love with her. He followed her everywhere and never gave her any peace.

This gave her twice as much reason to escape. First Finduilas, the one who had ruined her life, and now Addruran, who was trying to ruin it further. She turned and glared up at him, trying to think of something to say. He looked down at her innocently. “It is a pity Finduilas is to marry Denethor,” Adrama said cruelly, “for I still love him very much.”

“Yes, it is a pity,” said Addruran calmly, but Adrama thought she saw his back straighten a little. His eyes turned to Finduilas and those gathered around her. “Now I must go greet the lady who is Denethor’s betrothed.” He said those words coldly, trying to hurt her. As he departed he took one final shot. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? So perfect for Denethor.” Adrama burned with rage, and the tears sprung to her eyes. She turned and ran from the hall. She could no longer bear to look at Finduilas. She had ruined her entire life. Oh, Denethor.....

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:56 PM

alaklondewen´s post

Pelien looped her right arm through her husband’s as they watched Denethor’s new bride enter the hall. As Finduilas crossed the floor, Pelien roughly squeezed Sador’s bicep. “What do you think?” He whispered. Her answer was a disparaging look accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “She’s nothing special,” she spat calmly.

Turning toward her daughter, Pelien touched the small of her back. “Stand up straight, Adrama,” she said shortly through her teeth. The girl immediately straightened her back and raised her chin. That should be Adrama, Pelien thought as she turned her attention back to Finduilas.

“Perhaps we should go greet her.” Pelien stepped forward and waited for her daughter to fall in line. Sador leaned forward and whispered, “Be nice, dear.” Pelien just grunted. She would not do or say anything that would cause an unpleasant scene. Snapping her head around, she shot a warning at Adrama to step forward, but the girl shook her head. That’s fine…I’ll go myself. Straightening her navy dress, she strode across the room still holding Sador’s arm toward Finduilas.

Several ladies surrounded the young woman, but Pelien paid them no attention and interrupted the talk by holding her hand out to Finduilas. “Welcome to Minas Tirith. I am Pelien and this is my husband, Sador.” Finduilas slowly reached out, took the woman’s hand, and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame and Sir.” Pelien put on a courtesy smile and looked the girl in the eyes. “I’m sure it is,” she said rather curtly then smiled warmly. “Please, if there is anything at all that you need…” she trailed off purposefully leaving the just ask off. Turning her back on Finduilas, Pelien walked away proudly.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:56 PM

Novnarwen's post

He followed his wife Pelien to greet the coming wife of Denethor, Finduilas. She was surrounded by a number of ladies all dressed in beautiful dresses with golden thread and other decorations. Pelian reached out her hand, and greeted her. “Welcome to Minas Tirith. I am Pelien and this is my husband, Sador.” Sador gave a nod and smiled. Finduilas took Pelien's hand and seemed to be quite nervous. "I't a plesure to meet you," she answered and two red roses in her cheek appeared. His wife gave a short reply and walked away proudly.

Sador wasn't able to follow her quick move and was lost in the crowd of ladies, and felt quite embrassed. He tried to sneak out, but then, when he finally did, he had lost sight of his wife. "Pelien," he sighed.

All around there were ladies and men talking merrily. Sador had got the impression that his wife wasn't that pleased. Why? he didn't know. Or well, he knew what she tought of Denethor marrying an outlander. Sador didn't really mind. But then it was his daughter, she wanted to marry the coming Steward. While half running in the big room to find his wife, his eyes fell upon Addruran. Why not Adrama? He was a nice fellow, always in a very good mood, Sador tought. He continued back towards the hall and left the pretty decorated room.

The golden hall, Sador called it. It was so bright beacause of all the windows. And the ray of light flooded in. It was not so crowded here, and the people who were gathered here didn't talk that much. Almost complete silence. Wonderful, Sador tought. all those people in there, I am not sure I am going to last.

He stirred out of one of the huge windows. The sun was still up and its' red-golden colours were beautiful. He stood there for a while just admiring and thinking of what a nice day it would be for fishing. "There you are darling!" It was the voice of his wife, Pelien.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:56 PM

Aylwen's post

Jacinth nodded and curtsied elegantly on her aged knees as she walked down the line of welcomers. She was in the midst of Finduilas' entourage, following the future lady of Steward-to-be Denethor. Jacinth looked up from a young man she had been chatting to and looked at Finduilas. Jacinth had been governess to Finduilas and her sister Tessa for such a long time, for what seemed like ages. Nothing made the older woman more proud than the sight of Finduilas that day, though Jacinth still thought that she would have made a better choice of dress for Finduilas.

But the girls were growing up, or perhaps it had been even longer than Jacinth realized and the two sisters were already grown up. Jacinth pushed this thought away, thinking it foolish when just the other day she had helped Tessa with her hair and Finduilas with finding proper earrings. No, Jacinth knew that the girls still needed her. Otherwise Jacinth would not have insisted on going along with the Progress to Minas Tirith.

During the party Jacinth milled around, taking special note of the decor of the room and the style of the local girl's dresses. On more than one occasion, Jacinth would discreetly wipe a gloved finger over a dresser or table and scowl at the dust that gathered on the white glove. Perhaps Jacinth could show the maids around here how to properly clean and dust.

The only words that Jacinth really spoke during the party consisted of, "Oh, I just adore your dress!", "Oh yes, I am here with Finduilas...don't you just love her hair?" and "What was that, sweet?" Jacinth was rather hard of hearing, and on more than one occasion she had jumped to the wrong conclusion thanks to her ability to only hear bits of conversations.

At one point Jacinth had meandered her way through the crowd towards Finduilas, and once the girl was done speaking to one of the ladies of Minas Tirith, Jacinth enveloped her in a light and proper hug. "I'm so proud of you, sweet." Jacinth whispered in her ear before being whisked away by one of the other Dol Amroth girls to speak to some other Minas Tirith noble.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:57 PM

Sophia’s post:

Síriel pushed through the crowd excitedly, weaving in, out, and around the finely dressed men and women who had come to welcome her brother’s future wife. A rather harried looking man in Gondorian military uniform followed in her wake, holding a turquoise feathered fan in one hand.
Reaching her goal, Síriel reached eagerly for her sister’s hand. Tíriel reached out and grasped her hand with a glad cry. “Ah, Sister, what a happy day!” she exclaimed. Síriel held her sister at arms length to look at her. Cream was a very flattering color on Tíriel, the floor length gown and elbow gloves accentuating her dark hair and large blue eyes. A white stone gleamed at her throat and her hair was loose down her back.

“Sister, you are beautiful!” Síriel exclaimed. Her husband seemed to agree, refusing to relinquish Tíriel’s other hand.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Tíriel responded wistfully. Síriel knew she looked especially good that day, she’s chosen her clothing carefully, intending to put every woman in the room to shame. Her long gown was a brilliant turquoise and her long dark hair was twisted up on her head, glimmering with silver pins. So far, she hadn’t seen any real competition. She was anxious to meet this Finduilas that Denethor was to marry, anxious to prove that though she was yet unmarried, she was no old maid.

A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, shaking her abruptly from her thoughts. Spinning, Síriel saw Feredir, her escort, standing behind her with a rather red face and her fan clutched tightly in one hand. She took the fan from him, holding it just under her eyes to mask a grin at his expense. Tíriel, who noticed her furtive sport smiled extra nicely at Feredir. “I see you’ve brought a handsome young man from our navy with you, Síriel,” she commented playfully.

“Oh yes, Feredir’s a gem.” Síriel assured her sister. “He’s done nothing all day but run about after anything I’ve wanted, have you Feredir?” She turned her grey eyes on him and he nodded politely. Tíriel’s eyes widened.

“All day?” she asked, in mock surprise. Feredir nodded. “Well you must be positively exhausted. My sister can be impossible to please.” Síriel’s cheerful face took on the look of one grievously wronged. Tíriel nudged her playfully. “Why don’t you go on with Gaerlin now and have some drinks?” she asked, pushing her reluctant husband forward with one hand. “Have some ‘man-talk’.” Síriel giggled at this, and a look of intense relief came over the face of the unlucky Feredir. The two men departed in the direction of the bar and Síriel slumped with relief.

“My land, Tír, that man is such a bore.” She gasped. “I’ve simply run him off his feet all day, to keep from having to talk to him!”

“Oh, but so very good looking!” her sister exclaimed, with a sly grin. “I know you, Sister, can’t stand to be shown up.” Síriel blushed to a shade of red that most tomatoes would envy and turned her attention to straightening the feathers on her fan.

“Well, I simply must look good in front of Denethor’s new bride.” She whined, touching her hairstyle lightly to be sure all was still in place. Tíriel rolled her eyes at her younger sister’s vanity and scanned the room.

“Well, Sister,” she said as her sharp eyes spotted a group of nervous young women entering the hall. “It seems your escape is short lived, I think the group from Dol Amroth has arrived. I should find Gaerlin.” Síriel squealed with delight.

“Do you see Finduilas?” she clamored in Tíriel’s ear, “is she pretty? Is she good enough for our Little Brother?” Tíriel swatted her sister in irritation that was only half pretended.

“How am I to know which one she is? Really, Síriel, do try to act like an adult.” Síriel drew herself up to her full height and attempted to look serene and mature. Tíriel shot her an approving glance, as Gaerlin and Feredir rejoined them. Linking arms with their respective escorts the Steward’s daughters made their way over to where their father, Ecthelion stood. The whole family should greet this new addition together.
From where they stood at the far end of the hall they watched Finduilas come up the line, greeting every man and every maiden alike, down to the lowest. Tíriel smiled with admiration for this woman. She remembered the time before her own wedding, the nerves and the tiredness. Finduilas, she judged, would make a fine wife for her brother.

Síriel too was watching Finduilas’ progress across the room. She was indeed as lovely as they said, and so young. Síriel felt a small twinge of jealousy at this thought. She shoved it out of her mind as the girl approached them.

Finduilas held one small hand out to each of them. “And you will be my new sisters,” she said softly. Tíriel smiled at her as they nodded.

“I am Síriel.” The younger of the two said brightly, “and this is Tíriel, my sister, and her husband, Gaerlin.” Feredir coughed from behind her. “And Feredir of Pelargir. He is in the Gondorian Navy.” She added, as an afterthought. Finduilas smiled at this introduction, but remained disconcertingly silent. Feredir’s hands moved back to Síriel’s shoulders, and she shrugged with irritation. His hands refused to be dislodged. Síriel almost didn’t mind, as his possessive touch gave her something else to think about during this awkward silence.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

06-25-2003, 05:57 PM

Sapphire_Flame's post

Gaerlin bowed respectfully as Siriel introduced him to Finduilas. The young girl was lovely; but seemed painfully shy. Gaerlin fell back, allowing the family to welcome the girl. Feredir drew back a pace as well.

"A beautiful young woman," Feredir said. "Denethor has good taste."

Gaerlin only nodded in reply. He had no intention of voicing any opinion on that at the moment.

It was good to see Denethor had chosen a bride at last. Many in the crowd seemed surprised that he had not chosen one of the girls in the City; but Gaerlin thought that Denethor could not have made a better choice.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Nurumaiel

07-03-2003, 11:38 AM

Adrama sipped her wine as she walked swiftly back and forth, and, her eyes riveted on Finduilas, didn't notice what was going on around her... or in front of her. She felt herself colliding with someone, and she hit the ground rather hard. Brushing some strands of hair out of her face, she passed her hand hastily across her eyes, trying to see past the blur of tears, for tears had been in her eyes thinking again of why Finduilas was there. A hand was offered and she took it, standing up and trying to see who it was that was standing in front of her. At last the tears had dried up a little so she could make out a woman... but who was it?

Adrama knew she had met this woman before. Her face was vaguely familiar. Adrama felt herself blushing as she realized she was in the situation where she knew the person standing in front of her, but she had absolutely no idea who it was. Desperately searching her mind, she nodded her head in a polite, friendly way. How horrible it was, to bump into someone you saw nearly every day of your life and yet not remember who it was or what she was called?

"Adrama?" the woman said, concern in her voice. "What's wrong? You look horrible." As soon as she spoke the words, Adrama realized who it was and her head shot up, tears coming to her eyes once again.

"Oh, Emilia!" she cried. "It's so good to see you. I can't stand to look at Finduilas another moment."

"Why not?" Emilia hesitated, not sure what to say. "Adrama, do tell me what's wrong."

And so Adrama told her the whole story. Her love for Denethor, her mother's ambitious plans, that news of Finduilas, and she even went so far as to tell Emilia about Addruran's cold words. Emilia secretly thought that Addruran was rather justified from the way she gathered Adrama had behaved, and that Addruran would make her a finer husband that Denethor, but she did not say so. Instead she just listened, not saying a single word until Adrama had finished her tale.

The latter raised her chin and spoke in a defiant voice. "I don't care what my mother and father say to me," she said in a haughty voice. "I hate Finduilas, and I will not behave to her otherwise. She's absolutely ruined my life, and I won't forgive her for it."

[ July 03, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Snowdog

07-03-2003, 01:44 PM

With the serving of the familiar wine to Finduilas and the gentle eye contact, it bacame quite obvious to Ränne how easy it would be. The soldiers nearby only observed Ränne's subtle movements with the tray, and they suspected nothing. But yet has Lady Ruiel wished anything to happen, so Ränne just took note of her, and her royal guardsmen and their movements and demeanor, remembering every detail.
With the Lady Ruiel, and her lovely daughters Dryea and Alethea each side of her presenting themselves to the court of Lady Finduilas in introduction, Ränne watched as the subtle movement of Lady Ruiel's eye as she walked away told her to do as she was... gather information. Ränne looked down to acknowledge her, and kept on with her duty of serving wine.

The formalaties of introduction was quite the affair, and it was seemingly obvious that Lady Finduilas was somewhat overwhielmed by it all, but for her court....

Ränne took note of each as she served refreshment, and always she would respond with a smile and her eyes turning down. There was much going on here, and Ränne felt the tensions at times when she passed certain people. Pausing where Lady Ruiel stood, Ränne with a subtle turn of her eyes let her know there was much to tell of the arriving party, and it would indeed add to the social intrigue of Minas Tirith...

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-03-2003, 06:54 PM

Meirelle's head was spinning. She had never worked at a party like this before. Not even the Lady Ruiel's birthday celebrations had been this busy. She could not get a moment to sit down and catch her breath. When Meirelle had finally delivered a towering stack of soiled dishes to the kitchen, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Ranne.

"You're to take a ten-minute break. No longer or you'll be skewered," she reported. Meirelle sighed in relief and gave Ranne a quick smile of thanks. Ranne nodded as she walked briskly off for more duties.

At last! A break! thought Meirelle happily. Now I can get down to my real business. Which was, as she had been instructed, 'to thoroughly investigate the area and collect information.' Meirelle slipped out of the hall and walked purposefully towards a door on the right hand side of the corridor. She was just about to open it when a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. Whirling around with a gasp, she saw an armed and uniformed guard standing behind her.

"Excuse me, miss. What do you think you are doing out here?" he demanded.

At a loss for words, Meirelle remained silent. Think, girl, think! her brain screamed. Finally, she stammered out an answer. "I-I-I was just looking for the, ah, the banquet hall!" she blurted. The guard looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Right, then. This way, miss. Right through this door," he said, pointing the way she had just come. Meirelle curtsied and thanked him. Stepping back into the hall, she mentally kicked herself for being caught.

When she got into the hall, she peeped around the door. When the guard was gone, she crept back into the corridor, this time making sure to look for people coming and going. Meirelle reached the door and turned the handle. Ah, luck! It opened! Quiet as a mouse, she slipped inside.

Once she was in the room, she shut the door quietly. Looking about, she saw that the room was decorated beautifully. It looked like a study of some sort. Ah, a desk! Meirelle stole over to the desk and opened it quietly, searching for possible information. Unfortunately, she found nothing.

Peeking through the glass in the study door, she made sure the coast was clear. Opening and shutting the door silently, Meirelle ran back to the hall and slipped inside. Nothing, she sighed.

[ July 03, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

maikafanawen

07-03-2003, 07:35 PM

The swish of skirts and the empty chatter sifted through the hall as Dryea nodded and politely riposted questions and comments tossed her way by other guests of the Citadel.

“Finduilas seems lovely enough,” said one young lady lazily as she sipped her wine. “Though I hope her personality proves more enduring than her hasty smile.” Dryea had retorted immediately, defending the Lady’s honor.

“Haste is usually made during first impressions,” she chided. “Remember though, an undeserved smile could very well be satire incognito. One must watch what they say in court. Even the tapestries will see to it that their master, or mistress, hears of unkind words directed to their backs.” She winked jovially though her words had silenced the outspoken maiden and received grunts of approvals from the few listeners. Ruiel was speaking with other guests and Dryea did not see her younger sister.

As she looked around the room a small sensation crept across the back of her slender neck as though she was being watched. The lady immediately decided to ignore it and turned away from the direction where she suspected the unknown watcher stood. Elena stood amidst a group of younger nobles come to further their education, in facile discussion. Dryea smiled. She liked Elena. Her love of reading impressed Dryea and she always welcomed their talks which were more profound than her talks with other noblewomen. Smiling, she excused herself politely and made her way to the scholar’s group. When she reached Elena, Dryea touched her elbow lightly and the brunette turned, in good spirits as she saw who it was.

“Ah! Well met Dryea!” Lady Morthaniawen nodded her head respectfully to each of the scholars and slipped at once into their conversation.

“Denethor does wisely to connect Minas Tirith with Dol Amroth, what with enemy threat lingering on in the coastal towns,” Taren, a young man newly arrived for tutoring in astrology. Dryea let the indirect referral to her people seep into her memory and jumped in mildly.

“I agree. I fear that at any time the threat may be upon us and sooner than we believe.” Others nodded with their agreeing beliefs and one, being instructed in mild psychology, spoke up.

“I have spoken, though briefly, with one of the accompanying maids. The blood that has arrived from Dol Amroth is cunning, loyal and bold. They will do our steward justice.” ‘Here here’s were passed around and the circle drank to their future leader. Conversation dwindled into the late evening when dinner was officially served and nobles who were specifically invited to stay were seated upon the long tables in the dining room. It was here, while sitting between her mother and sister across from a couple of Minas Tirith nobles where she first saw her maids at work. Ranne and Meirelle were bustling in and out of doorways carrying trays and platters, dwindling beside nobles for tid-bits of important conversation. Gwen could be seen dusting the last of the window sills, and Rheaite had been sent to relight doused candles and replaced broken ones in the multitude of candelabras.

Dryea mentally commented the maids on their persistent vigilance towards their cause. Never was it obvious to anyone watching for their actions were mirrored perfectly by other maids, who listened to conversations often out of their own curiosity. Their faces were masks of politeness and not even the most cagey of nobles could identify them as spies.

[ July 03, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-04-2003, 04:05 AM

Emilia smiled as Adrama catapulted into her. Now that was something you would never catch Emilia doing. As she helped Adrama up she noted creases in her gown and hair which looked in need of brushing.

"Adrama, what's wrong?" she asked with a note of sympathy injected into her voice. That was the best way to deal with her. Adrama and Emilia might not know each other that well, but she was one of only a few women Emilia would count as friends and that was sometimes important.

"You look horrible" she added, with her nose wrinkled.
"Oh, Emilia!" Adrama said with great drama. Emilia tried to stop her lips twitching at the thought of how appropriate her name seemed.
"It's so good to see you. I can't stand to look at Finduilas another moment."

Emilia smiled wider. This seemed like gossip, and gossip was her greatest passion. Well, she recollected, her second greatest.
"Why not?" she asked, considering her words with care. A trembling lip and full eyes showed her that Adrama clearly needed even more careful handling than she had realised. "Adrama, do tell me what's wrong."

"I-I l-l-love him" Adrama stuttered. Emilia sighed. Perhaps the gossip would not be as good as she had hoped. Still, she would be meeting that cook later, to see what had been picked up below stairs and that might provide something of more import than a love story. With divided interest she listened to Adrama's story. So she loved Denethor? That would explain irrational hatred of his bride-to-be. And the fact that Emilia had first been drawn to Adrama because, unlike every other female at court, she did not appear to be competing for the eligible males.

I don't care what my mother and father say to me," Adrama completed her tale. "I hate Finduilas, and I will not behave to her otherwise. She's absolutely ruined my life, and I won't forgive her for it."

Emilia considered. Where should her loyalties lie? In the complex spider-web that was court life; one girl's hatred for another meant little. However Finduilas was the more important of the two, as the bride of the future steward. Still it was important for Emilia to keep her friend, for there were times female companionship was necessary. There was Dryea, of course, but Adrama in this state would make it easy for Emilia to be in control. With Dryea it was sometimes disconcertingly the opposite.

"That's terrible" Emilia said, reaching a decision. "Denethor should have chosen from Minas Tirith. What is the world coming to that he has to choose a foreign girl? She's not even that pretty."

Yes, for now at least, Adrama was the right choice. She would calm her down and then go into the party for Finduilas. If she was lucky Adrama would return to her rooms and then Emilia would get the chance to speak to Finduilas. Oh, and perhaps do a little husband hunting for herself- maybe the party from Dol Amroth had included some guards? She understood that there were noblemen, but they would probably be little different to the ones already here, soft and weak. An image of the city guard floated into her mind. With a grimace Emilia banished him again and turned her attention back to Adrama. She needed to think of an excuse to leave her.

[ July 04, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

Arien

07-04-2003, 10:30 AM

Seated next to her sister, Alethea was positively content with how the first meeting of Findulas was going so far. Everyone seemed gracious enough to the new arrivals at the court, even if some felt hostility towards them within. Gazing around fleetingly she saw that the maids were doing there jobs, spying that is, with the up most conscientiousness and she was glad of this. No doubt that they would have acquired some imperative, and certainly rewarding information during the course of this nights proceedings. Herself for now would outwardly enjoy the night and the new appearance of a firm risk would not impede her performance, otherwise she would have her mother and sister to answer to. And so delicately reaching for her glass, which was now filled with a cherry wine she immersed herself into conversation with the sister that sat beside her.

“Dryea, and how goes this splendid night for you so far? Has the meeting of the Lady infuriated you?” she laughed quietly , so only her sister could hear.

“Why Alethea, no of course not!” she smiled, but Alethea could see the insignificant bit of sarcasm, concealed by her captivating eyes, “She lived up to my expectation. She is everything I thought she would be.”

“Beautiful? Smart? A perfect match for Denethor?” Alethea sipped the wine from her glass.

Dryea nodded, “She is more than that.” Alethea did not ask what the ‘more’ consisted of, she already knew. The two looked over to where she sat and they both smiled politely to her, this was nature to them of course. A private situation and maybe they would not be so thrilled with her presence. “Why do you ask any way?” Dryea turned back her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, well I overheard some people discussing the Lady, some do not seem as pleased at her emergence as others of the court do.”

“Well that is expected,” their mother turned to them, evidently in earshot of their conversation, “He is a popular man, many of the ladies her would gladly have is hand.” Her two daughter nodded and the trio looked over to Findulas again. She was surrounded by admirers, laughing, chatting, wide smiles upon their faces. Maybe they should enjoy it now, she thought to herself wondering what her mother and Dryea had in mind for Findulas.

[ July 04, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

*Varda*

07-04-2003, 11:03 AM

Having hurried to her room to change her crumpled clothes and improve her appearance before meeting Finduilas, Elena entered the hall with some elegance. She was wearing a flowing blue gown, stitched with silver embroidery, and her soft dark curls were half pinned up with an elaborately decorated silver clip, the rest falling down her back. She fancied she looked rather well, rejoicing in a proper occasion to get herself dressed up and have some fun.

But first, she supposed, she should greet the Lady Finduilas. Nudging gently through the crowd gathering about this woman, she exchanged some brief words with Dryea, promising to return for a chat later, before finding herself in front of Finduilas. Curtseying low, she smiled warmly.

“Greetings, Lady Finduilas. Welcome to the court of Minas Tirith…I am Elena.” The beautiful woman in front of her smiled in response, and Elena left. Truly, Finduilas looked beautiful, in her white dress and her dark hair piled on her head. This was one in the eye for all the ladies around the court who had sought to win Denethor as a husband!

Stopping for a moment to pick up a drink, she glided through the crowd for another few minutes, smiling good naturedly at both those she liked and those she disliked. It was a funny thing when people got together in a court – outwardly, all these signs of friendship and warmth, but seconds later, people were gathered together, exchanging gossip about the person they had just been talking to. Elena was generally friendly to newcomers, but it seemed the popular feeling among the court was one of mistrust for Finduilas, and Elena did not like to go against popular opinion. Elena moved over to Dryea, Alethea and their mother.

“So,” she said, sipping her drink, “What is your opinion of our new arrival?”

Nurumaiel

07-04-2003, 11:23 AM

Adrama shoved her glass into Emilia's hands. "I think I'll go up to the washroom and change," she said in a shaky voice. "I see Addruran coming and I don't want to talk to him right now. Do you know where my mother is?"

Emilia shrugged vaguely. "Look about," she said. "I'm sure she's around." Then, putting a hand on Adrama's shoulder, she added, "Don't completely ignore Addruran. You may not want him as a husband, but he could be a valuable friend." Then, irritated, she snapped her hand back quickly. What had compelled her to say that? Had it been Adrama's tear-filled dark eyes, so lost, so hopeless, and looking as though she had no friend in the world?

Adrama took it in an entirely different way. She flushed and stood up straight, her eyes becoming distant and cold. Emilia was trying to urge her to forget Denethor... to marry Addruran! Just because she said 'friend, not husband' didn't mean that she meant it. "Thank you, Emilia," she said. "I think I'll go up to the washroom for awhile now. I'd like to get dressed in proper garment for the occasion, anyway. If you see my mother or father about, tell them where I am, and tell them I hope to speak to them soon."

Then, her back straight and her chin high, she left the room. Emilia waited until she was out of sight, then slipped off in the direction of Finduilas. Now was her chance.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Adrama stood in front of the large oval mirror in the room, smoothing down the skirts of her long, white dress. It was embroidered with silver along the hem of the skirt and also around the waist. The sleeves went down to her wrist, and then were cut back at the bottom side in a triangle to hang down. She had put it on unconciously, as if she didn't realize exactly what she was doing. Sooner or later she would find with a shock that she had put on the dress Addruran was always saying was his favorite of hers. Adrama hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was her own favorite, as well. And that was probably the reason Addruran said so. That man would do anything to gain her favor.

Smoothing out one last crinkle in the skirt and straightening the sleeve, Adrama bent a little to survey her head and make sure her hair was in place. It had been done in three braids. One on either side of her head, and on in the back. The braid on the back was brought up to rest on the top of her head, but not completely tight. There was a little slack where a white ribbon had been tied in a pretty knot and the tails of it hung down to the middle of her neck. The other two braids and been twisted around the first braid and around each other to fashion a little crown.

Adrama reached into a bag she had brought with her and pulled out a glittering white stone set in a necklace of silver. It had been a gift from her father... and engagement gift, when it had been almost certain that she would be engaged to Denethor. Surprisingly, no tears came to Adrama's eyes, but instead they glittered coldly. The woman in her came out and she fastened the necklace around her throat, looking at it carefully in the mirror. The stone was of great worth and one of the most beautiful she had ever set eyes upon. She would see if Finduilas' jewels could outshine her own.

Reminding to herself not to give Finduilas any cold stares, and to speak politely to her if the woman came to talk to her, Adrama gave a light-hearted laugh and left the room gracefully. At least she could speak to Denethor again. And then and there she made up her mind. Just because Finduilas was there didn't mean that the ball was spoiled. Balls were grand occasions, and Adrama was going to enjoy herself.

[ July 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Durelin

07-04-2003, 11:46 AM

Vern stood back from the fish before her, hands on her hips, with a satisfied sigh. It seemed that she was on schedule for the tonight's feast, and all the food and drink before that had been taken care of in the early hours of the morning. The robust women let out a long yawn at the memory of how early she had risen from her bed, but she returned to smiling immediately. She loved this feeling of accomplishment. But as she surveyed the rest of the kitchens, with the men and women, all clad in white linen and covered with aprons, sweating as they bustled around the narrow rectangular room, there were not smiles on their faces, nor any looks besides that of exhaustion. With a shake of her head, Vern ripped of her apron, revealing a plain, light blue gown of a material she did not know, but knew with a smirk that it was an imitation of silk.

Vern was halfway to the Hall before she realized she still wore a scrap of cloth tied around her finger, blood dried into it. She pulled it off quickly, looking around to see if anyone was near then slipping it into a pocket concealed inside the skirt of her dress with her dagger. Her father had told her to keep a weapon with her at all times at court. It was a dangerous place, he had said, but in all her years in the courts of Minas Tirith, Vern had never run into the least bit of trouble. Still, it was not a bad habit, and she knew it. She took a right down the corridor, and soon came to the great oak doors, covered with gold workings and, of course, the White Tree.

Vern scuttled into hall and was immediately hit with the low rumble of a hundred different quiet conversations. Working her way along the wall, keeping quite out of the way and hidden, she scanned the crowd, searching for the Lady Emilia. She found her with the Lady Adrama, who was looking quite flustered. Vern went to walk toward the two Ladies, only to find her feet rooted to the ground, her insides squirming with apprehension. She always felt a bit uncomfortable talking with the nobility, but now... Lady Adrama looked miserable, and Lady Emilia a bit exasperated, and besides, they were in the middle of a conversation, it seemed. Who was Vern to cut into the middle of it? Still...this was important information for the Lady Emilia. She would understand...perhaps...

Vern crossed the hall over to where the two Ladies stood with heavy feet. For a moment she simply hovered behind them, and Adrama left, handing her glass to Emilia. Vern let out a sigh of relief, smiling for a moment at the floor. She would only have to talk to the Lady Emilia. But, when she looked up, Emilia was walking off...toward the Lady Finduilas... No...she couldn't talk to Emilia and...Finduilas! Vern took off in a run to catch up to Lady Emilia, and was a bit flustered when she reached her, though she knew it was worth it.

"Excuse me, m'Lady," she began, glancing expectantly at Emilia and Adrama. "But I have something important to tell the Lady Emilia, if it is a good time for me to do so?" She said this questioningly, looking at Emilia humbily but hopefully. Then the Lady Emilia smiled, to Vern's relief, even if it was a bit of an exasperated one. "Of course," she said to Vern, "If it is important."

Emilia followed Vern slowly out of the hall, stopping sometimes to greet those who knew her. When they at last made their way through the crowd and out the large oak doors, Vern took Emilia over to stand by the wall near the door. "M'lady, I thought you'd be interested in what I had heard. You might be aware of the rumor, but it is quite new. You see, the Lady Dryea, you know she is from Dol Armoth..." Lady Emilia nodded her head a bit impatiently, and Vern began again, speaking a bit more quickly. "But, the Lady Dryea does not think they are from Dol Armoth, you know, the Ladies with Finduilas. And she isn't sure about the Lady Finduilas herself! You would think that Lady Dryea would know, being in such a place of power...wouldn't you?" She paused, frowning thoughtfully at the floor, then raised her eyes to Lady Emilia again, and gave the woman a curtsy. "Well, I thought you ought to have known, my'lady..."

[ July 04, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

Manardariel

07-04-2003, 12:32 PM

"Good heavens, this court seems to be made of ladies!" Tessa told her sister, grinning maliciously. "All those dresses, and look at their faces- they must think they´re the top-notch!" She made a face closely resembling the one of a lady that had just been introduced to them. "Honestly, let´s hope it doesn´t rain. With their noses stuck up like that, they may drown!"

"Tessa!" Finduilas made a calming gesture. "Yes, this court is full of ladies. But don´t make them your fiend. Women may not sword-fight, but they´re as dangerous as honeybees..."

"Honey, I know. I was joking! I promise to be a good girl, and try to get along with them." To show off her good will, she smiled nicely at th young lady across the table- a beauty, but overshadowed by her speldid sister. Quite like me! Tessa thought, nodding pleasantly. Only I´m not really pretty, AND I don´t mind that Finduilas is. Wonder if she does...

She then turned her head, examining the other girls and ladies assembled around them. Some where pretty, some not; some wore dresses of the latest fashion; some where babbeling about, discussing news and such.

People kept staring at Finduilas, and the looks on their faces closely reminded Tessa of the faces of the farmers on the spring market, when they were buying horses. They´re estamating her value. Is she pretty; is she rich, young, fertile?

"Finduilas!"Tessa giggled. "Sister, your a prize horse!"

Finduilas stared. Delightedly, Tessa burts out laughing loudly- thelook on her sister´s face had just been to much to bare. People up ad down the hall stopped and stared while she laughed on, unable to surpress it. And then it stuck Tessa, that she may have little to laugh about the next few weeks.

Lyra Greenleaf

07-04-2003, 05:51 PM

A smile tugged at the corners of Emilia's mouth as she watched Adrama stalk away like an angry cat. She was full of anger, hurt and unrequited love. Only a fool would allow themselves to love where the feeling was not returned. She had little fear that Adrama would remain angry with her for long. Emilia held her secret, which put her in a position of power, as well as making her the best person to turn to if she wanted to talk. Shaking her head she began to scan the crowd for Finduilas.

"Excuse me, m'Lady but I have something important to tell the Lady Emilia, if it is a good time for me to do so?"

Emila turned at the interruption. It was that cook- Vernatia? Vernathita?- and she had a worried expression. Emilia sighed again, frustrated. She wanted to go to see Finduilas, but this contact was important. Rumours past fastest and best through the servants, and if there was a rumour Emilia wanted stopped or started, this cook was the key. That was to say nothing of the information she had received through her frequently.

She smiled at the woman as calmly as she could. It was important not to anger the famous temper she possessed. Emilia had little time for any servants, but she held this cook in a grudging respect. She had a strength which Emilia intended to emulate- although combined with looks and money, of course.

"Of course," she answered, adding warningly "If it is important."
The cook nodded and began to walk towards the door, to where it would be quieter. Emilia's lips twitched as she noted the contrast between the old woman in the old, worn dress and the ladies at the ball.

"M'lady, I thought you'd be interested in what I had heard. You might be aware of the rumor, but it is quite new. You see, the Lady Dryea, you know she is from Dol Armoth..."
Emilia nodded. Everyone knew that- Dryea's mother would not let them forget if they wished! This was not the news.

"But, the Lady Dryea does not think they are from Dol Armoth, you know, the Ladies with Finduilas. And she isn't sure about the Lady Finduilas herself! You would think that Lady Dryea would know, being in such a place of power...wouldn't you? Well, I thought you ought to have known, my'lady..."

Emilia stood silently as she digested this information. It seemed prepostorous. Surely Denethor would not be so lax in choosing his bride? Yet all reports said that he was infatuated, and love, Emilia had heard, was blind. Perhaps they had blinded Denethor to the fact that his bride to be was an imposter?

With a start Emilia realised she was chewing her lip, and frowned. That was silly, for she did not wish to cut herself. She took a deep considering breath.
"Thank you" she said with a distracted smile. "You certainly did right to tell me of this. Now, there is no proof of this, but equally we have no reason to distrust the Lady Dryea. I believe that as long as it is known this is merely rumour, it will do little harm. After all if Finduilas is genuine she will be able to poduce proofs enough for anyone, but if she is an imposter, or being tricked herself, it may offer a chance to find out the plot."

She pause and smiled genuinely at the cook.
"Thank you"
The woman bobbed a curtsey and walked away. Emilia stood for a while, thinking. She had given permission, no doubt, for the rumour to be spread throughout the city. Still, at the very least it would be interesting to see what happened!

Well well well, she thought with a lazy grin. Perhaps Adrama will get her chance after all! Now I must not dream in corridors. I should talk to Dryea herself, to see what she says and I still haven't seen Finduilas. She sighed. At this rate I will have no time to find a husband at all!

maikafanawen

07-04-2003, 10:03 PM

Dryea was on her third course--thinly sliced lamb wrapped in lettuce and marinated in a tangy sauce--over finely roasted potatoes when Elena joined her at the table with her wine.

“So what is your opinion of our new arrival?” she asked, sipping her beverage and glancing imperceptibly in Finduilas’ direction. Dryea gave a thin smile.

“I don’t wish to jump to conclusions. I have only introduced myself thus far. She is a very beautiful and an undoubtedly well-learned woman. I have reason to believe she will do Denethor honor.” It was true that only a few noblewomen had not ever pined over the steward-to-be, Dryea and Elena included. They had been contented to sit and watch as the other maidens made fools of themselves before him, chuckling quietly behind fans. Now that Denethor was soon to be married to a foreigner, it would appear as though no one was laughing.

“I do however,” began Alethea, lowering her voice as she continued, “I am however a bit nervous. We had barely a warning that she was coming, and not even until a few days ago her purpose for coming. It seems a bit hasty.” They all nodded.

“We should not let our guard down. She is from a coastal--our town at that though it has been long, and now that I think back on it, I don’t recall any Finduilas.” Ruiel trailed off as she glanced towards the head of the table. Her eldest daughter nodded.

“Though she is young. We might have missed her…” Dryea trailed off, hoping to keep Ruiel’s intended rumor alive: Was Finduilas truly from Dol Amroth? The more suspicion towards her the better until the Morthaniawens could find out what they were to do with her.

“Still,” added Alethea, “we must be careful and stick together. I don’t want to see our Citadel fall into the hands of an enemy.” A universal conformity was shared and the fourth course was served as Elena returned to her seat only a few chairs down.

Dryea scanned the room for one face in particular she hadn’t seen yet and wished to speak with. The Lady Emilia was always one to glean mongering whispers from. It was through Emilia that Dryea began some of her most successful rumors. I wonder, Dryea thought, if Emilia would be interested in a high position of power after we take Gondor. She would make a very useful ally...

Everdawn

07-04-2003, 10:20 PM

Vieana was broken apart from the rest of the group by several Minas Tirith courtiers, as were the other ladies. Soon enough she found herself in the middle of a group of Minas Titith guards, all telling her how they had served with Dol Amroth... Vieana gave an innocent laugh, "then you must know my husband Dardanir, he is the general's son." The guards were dumb struck. "Sorry m'lady." one said. "No, not at all." said Vieana in turn.

She had lost count of the times she had said "Good day to you... My name is Lady Vieana of Dol Amroth... Yes, oh i have known Finduilas for ever so long.." that her head was beginning to spin. Excusing herself she made her way past one of the maids Lessawen who seemed a bit lost. "It is a wonderful place, isnt it?" Vieana said linking her arm through the young maids. "You must stay by me, I do not wish to find myself alone." she said in her usual kind tone. Vieana was well liked among sevants, because she always treated them as equals.

Lessawen seemed relieved, "Yes m'lady" she replied. Vieana smiled, "now, lets find Averyll and Elen, If i have any idea, they will feel as swept up as i do now." she sighed. Vieana glanced over Lessawen's shoulder to see one of the Minas Tirith girls in tears. "Oh, I do hope she is alright." she said in a dreamy tone. "Excuse me m'lady?" Vieana turned back to Lessawen, "Nothing, look, they are over there, Elen and Averyll. As soon as we can we shall aske Finduilas how she likes this place, what do you think?" she said as she found the other Dol Amroth ladies.

elven maiden Earwen

07-05-2003, 10:34 AM

Eleniel spent her time mingling with the guest. She had to repeat the line ‘Hello I’m Eleniel of Dol Amroth but you can me Elen” and then she smiled politely. Same old same old. Every once and a while she got in to a polite chitchat with some of the ladies. The conversations were mostly about Finduilas. Averyll and Elen politely excused themselves from a young woman and headed over to where Finduilas stood crowed by many ladies of Minas Tirth. They all seemed nice and polite but Eleniel guessed that most of them were just acting. Even though everyone seemed sweet something didn’t seem just right. As they headed over to Finduilas Elen could feel the penetrating stares of the young woman judging them, waiting for a flaw to show. It didn’t seem like this court welcomed strangers as much as Eleniel wished they would.

Vieana and Lessawen soon joined Averyll and Eleniel. Vieana said something about asking Finduilas about how she liked it here and Elen thought that would be a good idea.

"I like it here," volunteered Elen. "Of course, Dol Amroth will always be home, but this looks like a wonderful place... it's so big. And busy. She can't possibly get bored here." It was of course never going to take Dol Amroth’s place but there was something so wonderful about the great stone city. The other girls agreed and they decide that it was time to pay Finduilas a visit. They headed in her direction were she was once again surrounded by woman. They weaseled their way into the group until they stood right next to Finduilas.

“Hello I’m Finduilas of Dol Amroth. It is a pleasure to meet you” she said greeting a young woman. Tessa stood next to her smiling. She looked wonderful to, but it seemed that Finduilas overshadowed her. The girls greeted the girls standing next to Finduilas with a polite smile, before turning toward Finduilas and Tessa grinning.

[ July 06, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Orofaniel

07-05-2003, 11:10 AM

The welcomig party was going quite well. Finduilas looked astonished of course and so did all the guests.

Betuli was a bit heavy-hearted though, beacause she couldn't join herself. But that didn't really stop her! They had all been peeking on turns so she and the other maids were now discussing The Lady's beautiful dress. "But it isn't only the dress," Betuli told the others. The Lady herself is very beatiful. The other nodded and gave other signs that they agreed. "What do you all think of Denenthor then," one of the other asked, giggeling. "He looks very handsome," Betuli answerd quickly.

It was quiet for a little while then Betuli broke the silence. "I think I'll go and take another peek," she said delighted. Before the others could say anthing she had ran through the door.

She went down the hallways, hearing chatting voices at the end of it. She had now reached the opening and was looking at the guests. They all looked so beautiful in their dresses, and the lads so handsome and sweet. The whole room was decorated and the tables were filled with good food and drink. The guests seemed to enjoy themselves, lauging and chatting. "Oh, I would give anything to be in her dress," she thought while studying a dress that one of the guests were wearing. Then she gave a short laugh. "That was complete nonsense." She continued. She was perfectly happy and loved to serve the Lady. As the thought sunk in, she knew it was a lie. It wasn't a lie that she loved serving her, but she'd rather be the one who'd be served. Anyone would. "Don't think that way!" She snapped at herself. She forgot her stupid thoughts and they never returned.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted, a nice looking lad was coming right towards her. She fixed her hair and put up a cute smile. Then a shadow from nowhere appeard. One of the butlers had noticed her and was now shooing her off. The nice looking lad stopped and gave a short blink. "Was that a blink?" She asked the butler without thinking, while she turned and started to walk back in the hallway.

"I really think that was a blink!" She added quickly.

[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-05-2003, 11:37 AM

Quickly scanning the crowd Emilia spotted Dryea eating. Quickly she walked over to her.

"Dryea what is all this about Finduilas?"
"Hello to you too Emilia" Dryea returned mildly. Emilia blushed, it was unlike her to be rude.

"I'm sorry" she said. "It's good to see you, you look beautiful. It's just that it seems suddenly everyone in this city wants to talk to me about something...do you know I haven't even had anything to eat yet?"

Dryea motioned to her to sit down, Emilia shook her head distractedly and began to pace in front of Dryea.

"So, what is this about Finduilas? Is it true that she isn't from Dol Amroth at all?"
Emilia turned and stared at her friend, who took a while to consider.
"I haven't heard anything of that sort," she said evenly. "But I did not hear of her during my residence in that city, which is saying something if she is supposed royalty." Emilia's eyes widened.
"How likely is it that you are wrong?" she asked breathlessly.
"It is possible..." Dryea answered vaguely.

A smile began to spread it's way across Emilia's face.
"There would be honour for anyone who saved Denethor from an imposter?" she said casually, eyes gleaming. Dryea nodded imperceptibly. Emilia hugged herself with glee.
Better and better! she thought excitedly.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

*Varda*

07-05-2003, 12:51 PM

Having heard all that she needed to hear, Elena returned to her seat. Her eyes glanced about the room, settling upon Siriel and Tiriel, who were nearby. Pushing her chair back, she walked over to them, her eyes gleaming and her mouth desperate to tell this new gossip.

“Listen...”she said, appearing before them and turning so that they could see Finduilas. “Have you heard that our new arrival from Dol Amroth may not really be from there at all?” An expression of surprise flickered across their faces as they looked Finduilas up and down, and turned back to Elena.

“Who did you hear it from?” Siriel asked her.

“Dryea. They don’t remember ever seeing or hearing of Finduilas in Dol Amroth…they did say she might have been too young then, but it seems a little suspicious…” Elena replied. This news duly given, Elena departed the small group, returning to her seat to eat.

She sat at the table, sipping some wine, while watching Finduilas’ movements through the room. The woman seemed to be confident and friendly enough…but surely Dryea, her sister and their mother would have known who she was? And Finduilas didn’t seem to be lying…still, she knew Dryea better than this stranger who had come into their midst, and she trusted her far more.

maikafanawen

07-05-2003, 04:58 PM

Emilia bent her dark brown head over so that Dryea might whisper what she had to say. Lady Morthaniawen smiled.

“Be careful though. We don’t want the finger pointed towards any of us should our accusations be incorrect.” Emilia nodded, her eyes gleaming with the enjoyment knowledge of gossip brought her. Hurrying on to finish everything she had planned for the ball, she left Dryea to the final course. Music began to play again and dancing was resumed in the hall adjoining the dinning room.

“Excuse me, Lady Morthaniawen.” Dryea turned to see a tall man with tousled brown hair and soft gray eyes in a fine suit of the nobility. Flashing his pearly white teeth and extending his arm he proposed, “I am sorry to catch you at the very end of your meal, but would you care to dance?” The lady’s heart was pounding deep within her chest muffled by her corset.

“Not at all Rhir. Why don’t you join me for a glass of wine instead while my food digests,” she said calmly, standing with her chalice. The man agreed quickly and took Dryea’s arm, as they walked towards the main hall where people were still grouped in conversation.

“They’ve over done themselves this time. We have enough roasts and fruits to last us another month or so.” Lord Isindil raised his goblet to his mouth and watched the guests lazily, wishing to hear Dryea speak. Lady Morthaniawen’s heart was beating so rapidly that she feared opening her mouth to answer would cause her heart to jump right out and into her chalice. “All this in favor of one woman,” he continued. “She is from Dol Amroth. Perhaps you have met!” Dryea shook her head slowly.

“No, I do not recognize her, nor her accent.” There, she had imperceptibly told Rhircyn what she had just passed on to both Elena and Emilia. That should get the job of rumor mongering done. “It has been long since I visited there. Once all the hubbub dies down I should very much like to speak with her about it, what she knows anyhow.” They placed their empty glasses on a nearby table.

“Ready to dance then?” Dryea looked fleetingly into his beautiful gray eyes before allowing him to lead her to the ball room. Inside she prayed her mother did not see.

It was common for Dryea to be flooded with young men at these balls for quick dances but it was no secret that Rhir was her preference. Ruiel hated him. She could not risk her daughter obtaining a weakness. Should anyone suspect them of being anything less than Dol Amroth citizens representing their coastal town here at the Citadel, they would do well to see that Rhir was used against Dryea to glean the proof they needed. Time and time again Ruiel would see to it that some excuse was mustered to remove her daughter from his company, to no avail.

Dryea was gracefully swept around the dance floor following as Rhir moved in perfect rhythm to the dance. Her mother and sister were finished with their meals and were liable to enter the dance hall at any moment...

“Ah! Lord Isindil, Lady Morthaniawen.” Garthlo nodded as he approached the couple, blocking their path into the dance. Rhircyn dropped his eyes politely and raised them again, though not looking directly at the man before him. A velvet cap had been strategically placed atop his plastered blond hair so that it dipped low over the right side of his forehead. “Excuse me for being so forward but I couldn’t help but notice how lovely you looked this evening my lady,” he took her hand and bowing low over it, kissed her gloved fingertips before rising again. “Might I have this dance?” Yes, thought Dryea. Perfect. When mother enters she will see me dancing with someone other than Rhir and not be cross. She made to answer but was cut off.

“I’m sorry Garthlo, but you’ll have to wait. Now that you have interrupted this dance I ask that you allow me two dances before turning her over to you.” Then he rushed her away again to resume the dance.

[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Ealasaid

07-05-2003, 10:01 PM

Averyll had been standing off to one side, more watching the party than taking part in it. In fact, she had a hard time refraining from helping the servants pick up empty glasses or relight the flickering candles in the sparkiling candleabras. When she was offered a flute of champagne, she took it with a smile and a slight curtsy to the serving maid. Holding it carefully between her fingers, she took a sip and looked around for someone to talk to. She noticed the black hair and slim figure of Eleniel standing nearby. Approaching her, Averyll smiled.

"Well, Elen, what do you think of it all?" she asked pleasantly. "I, for one, can't remember when I have ever seen so much finery. It's as if they are all trying their best to outshine Finduilas. The dressmakers of Minas Tirith must be rolling in silver tonight," she added with a wink.

Eleniel nodded. "But not one of those ladies can hold a candle to Finduilas," she said loyally. "She looks so beautiful tonight."

"Absolutely stunning!" rejoined Averyll, watching Finduilas' graceful smile. "I hope they are accepting of her here."

Elen gave her a sideways look. "Why wouldn't they be? Denethor chose her himself and they say he is madly in love with her."

Averyll shrugged. "Oh, you know what geese women can be sometimes," she said, sidestepping the question. She had been watching the faces of the Minas Tirith ladies and had seen the thorns of jealousy cross the brow of more than one face. As the most eligible bachelor in the entire great city, if not all of Gondor, she was certain Denethor had broken the hearts of a few ladies, not to mention the hopes of a few ambitious mothers, as well. She had not missed the way the weeping young woman across the room had cast her eyes toward Denethor. She opened her mouth to add something else, but closed it again as the two of them were joined suddenly by Vieana.

"As soon as we can we shall ask Finduilas how she likes this place -- what do you think?" Vieana asked merrily.

"I would be interested to know what she thinks of all of this, that's for certain," Averyll answered honestly. "I hope she likes it." She couldn't help but think of her own brief and disastrous marriage that had ended nearly a year previous with her young husband's death. The only things that had kept her sane through it all had been the close proximity of her family and the birth of her son, whom she had been compelled to leave behind in Dol Amroth. If things went badly for Finduilas, she would be alone and far from home. "It looks like a lively enough place, anyway," Averyll ended optimistically.

"I like it here," volunteered Elen. "Of course, Dol Amroth will always be home, but this looks like a wonderful place... it's so big. And busy. She can't possibly get bored here."

Boredom could be the least of her problems, Averyll thought to herself, but said nothing of the kind. The upcoming wedding was supposed to be a happy occasion, and she felt badly that she felt such apprehension on behalf of Finduilas on the grounds of nothing more than the emotional scars she bore from her own bad fortune. With a gracious smile for her companions, Averyll silently vowed to keep her worries to herself. She was acting like a pessimistic old woman.

alaklondewen

07-05-2003, 10:08 PM

Minas Tirith’s most prominent people moved toward a long table that was lavished with beautiful tableware. Pelien allowed her husband to guide her to their seats. Sador graciously pulled a high-backed chair out, and taking his hand Pelien sat down.

The couple had spent most of the evening speaking with the men in Sador’s Company and their wives. Opinions of Denethor’s lovely bride-to-be was on everyone’s lips, and although Pelien was bitter about the fact that the Steward’s son was not marrying her darling Adrama, she smiled politely when Finduilas’ name was mentioned keeping her mouth shut. She refused to lower herself in front of the ladies in the court, so without saying anything negative, she chose to say nothing at all.

In her heart, Pelien believe all the attention should be focused on Adrama. Sador, after all, was one of the most respectable men in the community, and she had worked for many years putting their family in society’s limelight. All the parties and luncheons she hosted…they had earned the right to have their daughter marry Denethor, not some…some, outsider, she thought as she gazed over toward Finduilas. She’s nothing special.

As she thought of Adrama, Pelien realized she had not seen her daughter for quite some time. “Have you seen, Adrama?” Pelien whispered to Sador as she leaned toward him. He glanced around and over both shoulders, and then shook his head. “Where is she? I will not have the court think my daughter is off doing anything inappropriate,” she hissed through her teeth as she unfolded her cloth napkin and placed it on her lap.

“Pelien, it’s good to see you this evening.” Pelien stiffened slightly hoping no one had heard her, and then produced her most charming smile. Turning gradually she met the gaze of the Steward’s eldest daughter, Tiriel, who surprisingly was taking the seat across from her. The women’s husbands exchanged a few words, and immediately fell into talk of politics.

“And you, Lady Tiriel, you look lovely. You must be thrilled by the way the event has turned out.” Pelien sat back in her chair and crossed her hands in her lap.

“Yes, everything has turned out beautifully.” Tiriel opened her mouth to continue, but paused as her sister took the seat next to her.

Pelien smiled courteously at Siriel. “Why, Siriel, your gown is absolutely divine.” I cannot believe a woman her age still dresses like a young woman, Pelien thought as she took a glass of wine from a young servant. In fact, she had always disapproved of Siriel’s behavior, thinking she conducted herself rather inappropriately…flirting and dating like a girl in her twenties. Needless to say, Pelien never voiced this to anyone with the exception of her husband, and the woman was careful to make Siriel comfortable…she was, of course, the Steward’s daughter.

“Oh, thank you, Pelien. You look striking as always.” Siriel smiled cheerfully.

“I am having some ladies over for lunch tomorrow. It’s nothing extravagant, just a casual meal without the men.” As she finished her sentence, Pelien leaned over the table and winked at the sisters. “I do hope you will join us.”

_____________________________________________

Novnarwen's post

Sador and Pelien walked towards the long table for Minas Tirith’s most prominent people. "Darling," he whispered in her ear while he lead his wife to their seats. As he pulled the chair out for her she gave a smile and sat down. The two of them had been talking to the men is Sador's company and their wives pretty much all evening. The conversation was of course all about Denethor's bride-to-be, Finduilas.

Sador had watched his wife when they talked about the newcomer. She didn't seem to be pleased at all. His wife had tried to smile, while they had mentioned Finduilas' name, but Sador knew better. Pelien was not happy about this situation, and would rather have their daughter, Adrama, to marry the coming Steward. He didn't exactly know what he was thinking himself. Denethor had chosen Finduilas, and they all just had to respect that. It was unusual, no doubt about that, but if that was his choise, so be it, he thought.

It seemed to be that all had drawn conclusions about weather she was a fit match for Denethor. Sador himself had no idea about that. He was actually pleased when they finally sat down.

"Have you seen Adrama?" Pelien asked. She looked quite worried, as if she was hoping Adrama wasn't up to anything. Sador hadn't seen her himself. And after intense eye searching, around in the room, he shook his head. "Where is she?" she continued. And then she said exactly what Sador had thought she would say, in a situation like this. It was something about: not hoping their daughter was off doing something inappropriate.

Her worried voice lowered when the Steward's oldest daughter greeted her. Sador gave a smile. Tiriel and her husband had seated themselves across of them. "Gerlin," Sador burst out. Finally someone to talk politics with, he thought. And moments later they were in a huge friendly discussion about today's critical situasions around in the area.

[ July 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Everdawn

07-06-2003, 04:33 AM

Vieana stood, still beside her friends, looking up in awe at the extravagance of the Minas Tirith Palace. The celings were higher than that of the Dol Amroth palaces, or her father's mansion for that matter. Her attention was soon diverted to the other women by Averyll.

"I hope she likes it." said Averyll.
Vieana snapped her head back, her eyes wide.
If she did not...Well that would be terrible!she sighed to herself. Vieana laid her hand on her friend's arm. "It is big. That is for certain. Why, my father... well you both know what he is like, would have a heart attack by simply laying eyes on this place." she laughed. "Greed can ruin a man." she laughed again.

Vieana turned her gery eyes on the Minas Tirith residence, "They are so very nice, As long as we are here, i feel we shall always be welcome, or so I am being told every second someone has their turn of meeting me." she said. "What now? Shall we fetch Tessa at least? I fear we will never get a chance to talk to our dear Finduilas until nightfall."

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-06-2003, 06:09 AM

Finduilas' Welcoming Party

Síriel picked at her food, it was veal, and very good, but she just wasn't hungry. She gave it another small prod with the tines of her fork, before giving in and letting her eyes roam over the room. Denethor and sat with their father Ecthelion at the center of the long head table. Síriel looked long at his face, looking for signs of awkwardness, but there were none. He ate slowly, with her eyes on the plate, and talked with the man beside him too quietly to hear. Isn't he even nervous!? Síriel marvelled. She knew her brother was fearless in battle, but to see him fearlessly approaching marriage!

Tearing her eyes away from Denethor, she looked to the other side of the room, where Finduilas sat, surrounded by her cloud of maidens. Her dark hair was still elegant and her smile serene. This was a game Síriel could not have played, hiding her emotions was difficult at best, and she was certain, had she been Finduilas, she'd have been bouncing nerviously in her seat. Tíriel leaned over and put a hand on her arm. "Síriel, do calm down." She reached an expert hand up and tucked a few stray hairs back into her sister's braids. "you're wiggling so much the whole room can see it!" Síriel smiled wryly at herself. Not even her own wedding and she couldn't keep still.

Síriel straightened and held herself elegantly as Elena came scurrying up to the table. No good showing how restless she was at close quarters. Elena began to talk excitedly, something about Finduilas. Síriel's attention, however, was caught by a man at one of the lower tables. Letting Elena's voice wash over her, she studied the man intently. He wore the insignia of an officer, broad shouldered and dark haired. He met her eyes for a moment, an appraising glance that simultaneously irritated and intrigued her. Who was this man? She'd never seen him around the city before...

As soon as Elena stopped talking and returned to her own table, Síriel turned pleading grey eyes on her sister. "Tír, who is that man? The soldier, with the dark hair sitting there," Síriel pointed with her chin toward where the man was sitting. Tíriel tried to look stern and then suppressed a giggle.

"Sister, don't you pay any attention?" she sighed heavily and dropped her voice to a low hiss, "Lady Dryea doesn't recognize Finduilas' name from her time in Dol Amroth. She think they may be impostors!" Síriel's eyes flew wide, she missed news like that staring at a man? She turned the news over in her mind. Lady Dryea was certainly a reliable source, even though Síriel was plagued by a nagging dislike for the woman, being as beautiful as she was, manipulating all the nobles at court... But she was indisputably from Dol Amroth. Síriel but her lip.

"We shall have to wait and see, Sister." she said, after some thought, "We will simply have to wait and see." Tíriel nodded approval, then nudged Gaerlin who sat beside her. A moment later she turned back to Síriel with a sly grin on her face.

"His name is Thenidir. He's just been transferred back from the outer Beacon Hills." A smile flickered across Síriel's face as Tíriel finished her report, "Gaerlin says he's very single."

[ July 06, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-06-2003, 09:16 AM

Finduilas' Welcoming Party

Emilia walked unusually slowly towards where Finduilas and her various maids, ladies and who knew what else were sitting. She was still trying to take in what Dryea had told her. It could be a brilliant way to raise her profile in the court, she loved her Papa dearly but he was more interested in family than power. Leaving court at such an important time to see his new grandson was just one example, he was always doing things like that. Her mother could perhaps have offset this, but she believed a wife's duty was to her husband- a very outdated mode of thinking to Emilia's view.

"Not still looking for the Houses of Healing are you?"
The deep voice shocked Emilia out of her reverie. She spun on her heel, and was surprised to see the impudent guard sitting smiling at her.
I did not recall his voice was so deep!, she thought as a shiver ran down her spine. That was annoyance, she told herself firmly.

"Struck dumb, my Lady Emilia?" he asked with a wicked grin.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, flustered- then kicked herself.
What a terrible response.
"I have my sources" he replied, with- oh horror of horrors!- a wink!
"I'm Thenidir by the way"

"No true man, or gentleman at least, would act so with a lady" Emilia said with an innocent look on her face.
"No? Well that lady over there seems to disagree" Thenidir told her with a straight face, gesturing with his eyes instead of his hand. Emilia half turned, and saw one of the sisters of Denethor.
Well we know what bad taste that family have, she thought angrily, trying to ignore the stab of what she would not-could not- admit to be jealousy.

Manardariel

07-06-2003, 03:32 PM

Suddenly, Tessa nodded a commotion at the end of the hall.

"Finduilas, look! It’s the steward!"

Finduilas sharply took in her breath. Tessa, who was standing on tiptoes, craning her neck to get a better look, noticed and clutched her hand- tight. The woman tried to calm herself. Breathe, Finduilas. Breathe...she told herself. She arranged her shawl around her shoulders and fixed her gown. Back in the hall, a voice rang:

"Make way, for the noble steward Ecthelion!"

Gowns moved, swords clattered as the nobility of Minas Tirith settled into bows to their steward. The rustling of silk and the whisper around her reminded Tessa of an angry swarm of bees. The steward crossed the hall. Tessa watched him greet his daughters and a few more important members of the court, making pleasant conversation with the ladies. He was coming nearer to their table. Tessa stared at him apprehensively.

He was a tall men, not yet old, but beyond the mid of his life. He stood proud in his midnight-blue uniform, adorned with the symbol of the Tower. He had an eagle-like nose, piercing blue-eyes and a look of stern consent on his face; not unlike Tessa’s father when he was about to punish her.

Finduilas curtsied deeply; Tessa behind her reluctantly following suit. Trying to find a way to study Ecthelion and look humble and respectful at the same time, Tessa moved her head up a tin bit, almost completely hidden under the shawl Jacinth had forced over her hair.

Ecthelion offered his hand to Finduilas, who took it. Her head still bowed, hands shaking, she watched him kiss it, feeling his cool lips on her skin.

"Lady Finduilas" he said, bowing his head in greeting. "It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you at my court. I have been so anxious to meet you, and my son as well. Come, my Lady."

And without further ado, he let her out of the hall.

Tessa stared, to watch. A rustle of silk told her the party was over, but she couldn´t move. What was going on in there? Later, much later she lay in bed, waiting for Finduilas. She’d stay awake all night if that was necessary. All night............

But the moon had won this fight over Tessa, and gently he covered her with the sweet silky blanket of sleep.

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-06-2003, 04:37 PM

Finduilas' Welcoming Party

Meirelle scurried about, picking up empty glasses and stacking soiled plates. She had just straightened up and wiped the sweat from her brow when she heard a herald cry. "Make way for the noble Steward, Ecthelion!" She heard murmurs and gasps from the crowd as they shuffled quickly out of the Steward's way.

Meirelle, holding a tall stack of dirty plates, shuffled slowly to the side out of sight of the Steward. She didn't want to be seen in such a state, sweaty and grimy. She had had a glass of wine spilled on her apron by a clumsy lady, and the red stain stood out nicely against the bright whiteness of the cloth.

When she had gotten a grip on the stack of dishes, she walked briskly to the kitchen and gave them to a maid who had a sink ready for washing them. The drying-rack was full of clean dishes, and the maid groaned when she saw the huge pile ready for her. Meirelle smiled and walked back into the hall. The Steward was gone, as was Finduilas. Her sister was still there, though.

Meirelle's roving eyes searched the hall for something else to do and settled on a dirty table. She cleaned it off and turned to go back to the kitchen. As she reached it and threw the waste into the bin meant for scraps and rinds, she felt someone bump into her. She turned around and saw Gwen.

"Oh! Hullo there, Gwen. Busy night, wasn't it?" asked Meirelle.

Gwen looked up and said, "Oh, yes. I haven't rushed this much since...well, since never." Meirelle looked her in the eyes and motioned with a subtle nod of her head that they should go to a more secluded area. Gwen followed her to a table in a far corner, away from the crowd. In a low voice, Meirelle said, "Did you get anything done?"

Gwen looked at her strangely, and then realized what she meant. "No. I couldn't get away from my duties. Did you?" Meirelle nodded and said, "I managed to get a look inside of some sort of study, or office, during a quick break. But I found nothing."

Gwen nodded and said, "Do you think anybody else accomplished something?" Meirelle took a deep breath and said, "I hope so. I thought I heard someone say something about Lady Finduilas' secret identity or something to that effect, but I had to hurry and serve a table so I could not listen longer."

Gwen said, "We had better get something done tomorrow, or else Dryea will be angry." Meirelle nodded and motioned that they should go back. The party was over, it seemed, and the crowd was diminishing slowly. Maids still scurried to and fro, wiping off tables and gathering together dishes, and Meirelle joined them.

After she had wiped off what seemed like her fiftieth table, she glanced at a large clock that was on the wall. It was an hour and a half after she had her talk with Gwen! Meirelle gaped at the time, but was soon jostled by another maid, who said "We're nearly done. And about time for it, too! Take these tablecloths to the laundering room."

elven maiden Earwen

07-06-2003, 07:54 PM

The party was now over and Eleniel was exhausted. She slowly followed the other guest out of the room. Ecthelion had come and Finduilas had left and with that the party ended. Eleniel now walked to her room. It was close to where she now was and it didn’t take her long to arrive. Eleniel closed the door and began to undress. She shut the drapes with one last glimpse of the stars. Eleniel stared into the mirror as she unbraided her hair.

She lay down in bed but instead of sleeping she found herself wondering about Finduilas. Poor Tessa, she must be wondering where in Arda Finduilas is, Elen said to herself. I wonder where she is? I hope she likes Denethor. I hope she is all right. I hope she at least likes it here. I will have to talk to here tomorrow, as I had no time today. With that last thought sleep over took her and she slept on until the first light of dawn.

~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~

Eleniel rose quietly from bed. The sun was just rising and a cool wind blew outside. Eleniel clothed herself quickly in a white dress and headed outside. It was a beautiful morning and the people of Minas Tirth were starting to rise for another hard day of labor. Eleniel’s grey eyes glittered in the sun and she smiled reveling her dimples. The stone city was soon alive as Eleniel walked though the streets. Eleniel couldn’t wait until she would be able to talk to Finduilas.

She hurried back to the citadel to find Finduilas, Tessa, Averyll, and Vienna.

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Elora

07-06-2003, 09:41 PM

The Lady Ruiel returned to her guest appartments alone, as she wished. The day had been filled with pleasing progress. Dryea had worked exquisitly amongst the rumour hungry lordlings and their ladies. The court was ripe to sew with the seeds of their choosing, and already the crop was in the ground and looking to be bountiful. Still, it was too early yet to count the profit from the forthcoming harvest.

Ruiel's face held a sarcastic smile as she reviewed her agricultural analogies with some contempt. Far too long in Dol Amroth, backwater of Gondor, had made more of an impact than Ruiel preferred to admit. Still, she was well pleased and proud of her daughters. Dryea had been simply perfect and Alethea.... well Alethea had not caused a diplomatic incident at least and so Ruiel alloted some maternal approval for her other daughter also.

She swept into her apartments in a rich rustle of fabric, hand close to her dagger as she entered the chambers. Flush with pride as she was, she was not so fool as to think that it was wise to enter an empty room without caution. Particularly when the rooms were in Minas Tirith, seat of power of her ancient foes. Already the fire had been set and banked on the hearth, and the rooms readied for the evening's retirement.

Seeing that she was indeed alone, Ruiel relaxed her hand and moved to where a decanter of wine glowed from within it's crystal decanter on a polished wooden sideboard. She poured out a glass as she continued her analysis of the day's events. As ever, they were not without their flaws.

A flash of intense irritation burnt in her deep blue eyes as she recalled Dryea's turn about the dance floor with that Rhir. Ruiel let her filled glass breath as she considered her feelings towards the man. Men, as a rule, were an impediment when it came to getting things of importance done. They needed to be pandered to, watched over. Ruiel had had no time for such frivilous pursuits when married and her position on such matters now had not changed since being widowed.

Dryea's infatuation, and that was all that it was, had no place here in Minas Tirith. In fact, it was the sort of thing Ruiel expected of Alethea. Ruiel's fingers drummed on one arm as she considered that blight on the day's otherwise glowing progress. As the flames of the fireplace leapt before her, setting her darkened amber hair aglow, Ruiel's face took on a sensuous smile as she moved to the natural progression of a logical solution to the problem of Rhir.

Her thoughts moved quickly, taking in the means at her disposal, and Ruiel soon turned quickly in a swirl of velvet that held the light against it and walked towards where a brocaded array of sashes hung against the wall. She selected the one that would summon a house maid. The young woman arrived shortly thereafter, tapping politely at Ruiel's door.

Ruiel admitted her with a terse, "Come", and relayed her instructions in a precise voice that permitted no question nor demurrment. Soon enough, the maid was sent on her speedy way to summon Dryea to her mother's chambers as soon as her daughter bestirred herself from that loon, Rhir's arms. But there was one other that Ruiel had summoned.

Lady Ruiel Morthaniawen was pleased to have made some progress of her own on more than one front that day, and returned to her wine goblet as she awaited Ränne to arrive. She had her own rumours and alliances to cultivate, and this was one thing that she did not entrust even Dryea to assist her with. As she had proved with Rhir, Dryea was not to be relied upon for all things. Ruiel seated herself elegantly before the fire and allowed her mind to sort through the faces she had seen and what words had been attributed to them.

By the time Ränne tapped at her door, Ruiel had already settled on the Lady Pelian. Once again, Ruiel admitted Ränne with a perfunctory, "Come!" The woman entered, looking about the room herself and came to stand before Ruiel and make her curtsy.

"My lady," she observed, clever wit in her eyes that Ruiel had marked in the woman some ago. It was that wit, amongst other notable qualities, that had led to her retaining.

"What did you learnt this day, Ränne," Ruiel asked, letting the woman stand for the moment as she herself sat and awaited Ränne's report. Ruiel held her goblet gracefully in one hand as her keen eyes were trained on Ränne's face for any hint at what may lie beneath the woman's forthcoming report.

Everdawn

07-07-2003, 01:07 AM

At the dinner, Vieana was seated beside Tessa and Averyll and Elen on the other side of Finduilas, she could tell that Finduilas was nervous, as she ate hardly anything. Vieana couldnt help but feel a little scared herself. But really? what was there for Finduilas to be afraid of? Minas Tirith was very grand, and the women in the court seemed very warm, (if not a little anxious to see Finduilas, granted) and Denethor, well, she would have to wait. For most of the meal, it was Tessa who did most of the talking, saying how lovley she looked.

Vieana just sat there and smiled, nothing can possibly go wrong she thought to herself. Though, an arranged marriage was certanly different. Vieana herself had been seventeen when her father had introduced her to her husband. She supposed that this was similar, as her father always introduced her to young men who he deemed worthy of courting his daughters. Vieana supposed that she had been lucky that she and Dardanir had fallen in love from first sight. And she hoped with all her heart that it would be the same for Finduilas.

Vieana humbly bowed when the Steward had entered and taken Finduilas- somewhere- she could see that the other Dol Amroth ladies were apprehensive, but none the less tired as she was. They were all lead to their rooms. Vieana sat in front of her mirror, combing her long hair. The she stopped, and turned to her mirror with a laugh, "If i were not mistaken, Tessa will not rest until she knows every detail of Finduilas' adventure." she laughed. She brushed her hair again and then looked back at her mirror. Her face. Her stone eyes, her ash blonde hair. im all here she sighed, safe and sound. There was a knock at her door, and Lessawen appeared.
"Excuse me, Vieana, but Miss Tessa askes me to ask youself if you have seen Finduilas yet." Vieana couldnt help but laugh. "No Lessawen, you may inform Tessa that i have not, although you may be content in asking the others."

"No need, miss Vieana, i have alredy done so... many times." said Lessawen leaving. Vieana slept soundly in her bed, until late in the morning, when she awoke with a start. "Ah! im late! again..." only was it when she was dressed, (another sliver and grey creation.) that Vieana stopped, turning to the mirror asked "what is it that I am late for?" she struggled to remember. "Oh! thats right! -details-." she reminded herself and scurried to find the other ladies.

Annalaliath

07-07-2003, 09:30 AM

Gwen tired quickly of this sort of thing. She hated things where she could hardly breath for the people crushing her; so she slipped away quietly. Out side the hall she found a nook in the wall. Taking out her book she flopped to the stone floor and started to read.

The book was good, and the time passed, as did many servants and such. She paid no attention to the servants or the time. When in the thrall of a good book not much could get to her, except her mistress, Dryea. She wondered where the others in her group were.

" Probably gawking over some man," she thought. Going back to her book, she missed feasting dancing and all the rest. The servants that were running endlessly by her were laden with food, dished and all assortment of other things, a few of the careless men who were too drunk to walk..... The people here made her sick. They were all so together. She took an apple out of her Pocket and started to eat it as she continued to read her book and think. Hoping that her mistress would not need her services any time soon.

Snowdog

07-07-2003, 02:34 PM

The dinner party and ball...

Ränne was busy about the party, making sure the guests wine goblets remained filled and also passing some water to the soldier guard about Denethor and also to the guards about Finduilas for their ordered breaks. The ones from Dol Amroth she had not seen about the city, but Minas Tirith guards she has during their off hours. Knowing they were sworn to duty, she noted their demeanor during all the festivities, and watched most closely the guard from Dol Amroth.

The evening was brutal on her feet, and she kept her distance from Lady Ruiel. Ränne got an order to see to the drinks of the guests who have finished their meals and were in attendence in the main ballroom. Carrying two pitchers of wine and some goblets, Ränne made her way about the guests dancing, gracefully moving about and gathering some enjoyment as she balanced the pitchers and glasses upon a tray. It was with a fluttering of a familiar fine dress that Dryea and a fine young man whirled by, and Ränne smiled as she watched them dance. Dryea favored him as her hands and body movement spoke loudly of it, yet Ränne knew Lady Ruiel would disapprove. Surely she had already a notion of this, and so Ränne chose to keep quiet on Dryea's joyful flirtation, for did not Lady Ruiel wish her to become her own woman in the city? Surely she will rise or fall on her own merits and actions. . . .

Much fine words were spoken and much intrigue was passed throughout the evening, and Ränne could see the disdain of some toward the Lady Finduilas. Much work was to be done still as the royal guests started to dwindle in the ballroom. and with a last service of water to the Lady Finduilas before she retired, Ränne bowed and smiled. Finduilas's eyes then met hers as they did when she arrived, and Ränne could see there was much apprehension in her that she tried to keep buried. There was a pause, and Ränne said as she looked at Finuilas's feet.

'If there be any need of the Lady in this city, have your servants call for Ränne.

Ränne knew she was out of place to speak, and the guards from Dol Amroth eyes her close. Her dark features moved smoothly as no ill will was seen or felt, and lady Finduilas took note of the servant who had been working all about the evening's party.

~~~

in the Lady Ruiel's chamber...

She was through the clean-up when she noticed the summons of Lady Ruiel for the evening. It seemed work was never done for Ränne, and she made her way toward the Lady Ruiel's chamber. A light tap upon the door brought the customary "Come." and Rä entered slowly, taking a look back into the hall before letting the door close quietly. It was a habit to check for followers and prying ears, though Ränne always assumed eyes and ears were where they shouldn't anyway. Ränne bowed with her eyes down as she responded,

'My Lady'

"What did you learnt this day, Ränne?"

The Lady Ruiel asked in her easy, soft and alluring, yet strictly business sounding voice, looking Ränne over closely. Ränne looked at the lady's wine glass as she started to speak,

'There is much m'lady. There is much mistrust of the Dol Amroth guards of the Minas Tirith guards, but I feel it is that of being in the city. And there are feelings of disdain amongst the guards of Minas Tirth of the Lady's guards. But this is a good thing, for I know of many of the guard of Minas Tirith, and may yet learn of those of Dol Amroth as they stay here with the Lady Finduilas...'

"Ok, enough with your trysts with the guards, tell me what you have heard among the people?"

Ränne looked down in the seeming disgrace judged upon her by Lady Ruiel, but Ränne went on,

'It is very easy to gain access to the Lady Finduilas, and there is a brewing comtempt put forth by some of this city as whisperings of the Lady Finduilas being not of Dol Amroth.'

Ränne's dark eyebrows lifted some at this, for she suspected the Lady Ruiel may have had something to do with this. But she was not in the know of all things she plotted, and so it was that Ränne could only guess at some things. She went on as Lady Ruiel sipped her wine.

'But there is one with Lady Finduilas who we must watch closely.. the one named Vieana... I will keep note of her. 'There is also much adoration of Lady Finduilas among the people, and yet some disdain that Denethor did not choose to wed a local girl.'

Ränne stopped as she remembered the way Dryea was carrying on with the Gondorian soldier. She would not speak of it to Lady Ruiel, but something told her the Lady already knew. Ränne fell silent and looked at the feet of Lady Ruiel...

Nurumaiel

07-07-2003, 04:11 PM

The ball had ended. Adrama and her family had said farewells and gone home, where the daughter had hurried to her room and changed into a breezy white evening gown that went splendidly with her dark hair. She removed the necklace and stored it away carefully, then undid her hair, letting it fall down her back in the soft ripples the braids had created. She sighed heavily, and an unbidden tear slid down her cheek. Annoyed, she brushed it away. The ball had been long and a great strain. Adrama had enjoyed herself as much as she had planned, but was exhausted from all the fun she had had. But it had been wonderful...

Except for that one part where Addruran had wanted to dance with her. How annoying that had been. So why did she say yes? Probably because she couldn't find her mother and father, and Emilia was off somewhere else. There was nothing else to do. And he had been very kind to her, apologizing sweetly for his behavior earlier. At least he had apologized, even if he was annoying. It wouldn't do to have a Gondorian who couldn't be humble wandering about.

The party had ended after Finduilas had met Ecthelion. What fun that had been. Adrama's cold eyes had percieved how much Finduilas had trembled and how nervous the latter had been. She herself was always calm and collected, even at great events that might have a huge impact on her life. The thought came to her that she had not acted calm and collected when Finduilas was introduced to the court, and that greatly affected her life. She dismissed the thought quickly, but a tinge of color slowly rose to her face.

She went to her window and opened it, letting the cool breeze rush against the warmth of her blushing cheeks. Tomorrow would, hopefully, be more bearable. Her mother was holding a luncheon party for various lady members of the court, and though no word had been said, Adrama was sure she herself would be going, as well. And Finduilas would certainly not be invited. How wonderful her mother was! Yes, there would be her chance to escape for some time without having to look at Finduilas.

Slipping into bed, Adrama pulled the covers up to her waist and closed her eyes, letting the breeze outside slowly lull her to sleep. She knew it was no use to try to go to sleep, just as it was no use to try to forget Finduilas. It was something that just happened and you didn't even realize it. Hopefully it would happen soon. . .

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

alaklondewen

07-08-2003, 08:54 AM

After the Party…

Pelien faced the tall cherry mirror in her bedroom while Sador was washing up for bed. Her mind raced going over all the events of the evening and the plans for her luncheon the next afternoon. She slowly pulled the pins from her hair, one at a time, as though each one signified some important moment, and placed them into a heart-shaped box on her dresser.

As she picked up her heavy, hand-carved ivory brush, and pulled it slowly through her waist length dark hair, Pelien mulled over her plans for her lunch party. It was going to be an absolutely delightful time where the Ladies of Minas Tirith could speak their minds about the coming of Finduilas and her marriage to their future Steward. She mostly looked forward to consulting Lady Ruiel, who also came from Dol Amroth. The women surely knew one another, and Pelien could not wait to hear how imperfect Finduilas really was.

Pelien was still brushing her hair, when Sador appeared behind her. Her prior thoughts had caused her to unconsciously smile, and as her husband slid his arms around her waist, he whispered, “What are thinking about?”

Startled, Pelien twisted around to face Sador. “I…I was just thinking about luncheon tomorrow. It should be splendid. All of the ladies are coming…even the Steward’s daughters.” Sador smiled and shook his head as pulled away from her and crossed the room to finish getting dressed. “What is so funny?” Pelien’s voice was harsh…she thought he was mocking her.

Pelien positioned herself across from Sador with only their bed between them. Standing with her hand on her hips, she waited for his answer. As he looked up and met her gaze, Sador laughed. Oh, that made Pelien steam, and her expression might have wilted a flower.

“My dear wife, I can’t help but laugh. You’ve thrown probably a hundred of these…parties, and you still judge their worth by whether the Steward’s daughters are coming.” He laugh softly and then continued as he sauntered around the bed and across the room, “Pelien, you’re a wonderful hostess, and a good woman…and it doesn’t matter who comes to lunch tomorrow, because you’ll still be my wonderful wife.”

Pelien’s cold expression melted away at her husband’s words, and she leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Thank you, Sador.” Only her husband knew her soft spots, and she couldn’t help loving the man for it.

“Have you seen Adrama?” Sador asked as Pelien returned to the mirror.

“No, I haven’t seen her, but I heard her come in a little while ago.” Pelien pulled the brush down her hair slowly, thinking about where her daughter might have been. “Maybe I should check on her,” she said as she firmly placed the brush back onto the dresser and spun around to face her husband. She loved Adrama dearly, even if she was harsh with her sometimes. Pelien just wanted her daughter to be respected in the community. “I will return in a few minutes.”

Pelien exited her bedroom and quietly walked down the hallway to her daughter’s room. Taking the handle in her left hand, she tapped lightly with her right and listened for an answer. All was quiet within the room, so Pelien opened the door slowly and looked inside. Adrama had become a beautiful young woman, but as she lay in her bed with the moonlight on her face, she looked like a child. I’ll just have to find out about her evening tomorrow…I do hope she had a nice time, Pelien thought as she closed the door softly.

Novnarwen

07-08-2003, 09:55 AM

Sador was glad the party was over. All that girl talking about Findulias, their gowns and Denethor. (How good looking he was.) Parties was really not him. Sador was also glad he wasn't woman. There was so much pressure. All that chatting about eachothers gowns and make-up. Some didn't really like red because they became too pale, others perferred red especially if it had the red color of a rose. Sador shuddered. He forgot to mention the gossip. Look at that nose, he had heard a lady say about another lady. It stretches about 50 milse south that one, she had continued. Luckily Sador didn't know her, he hadn't even seen her before, and he was pleased by that. People like har were to be ashamed off. All the same, he wondered, was someone telling gossip about him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pelien and Sador made ready to go to bed. His wife had smiled all day, without one single brake, and he felt kind of sorry for her. Women, he thought. She stood brushing her hair. Why does she even do that, he tought. She is going to bed. He got a bit irritated about the thought of her actually brushing her hair before going ot bed. Did all women do that?? But all the same he loved the way she was.

Sador walked over to her laying his hands around her waist. "What are you thinking about?" he asked in a soft deep voice. Pelien turned around. "I…I was just thinking about luncheon tomorrow." she said in a nervous voice. “ It should be splendid. All of the ladies are coming…even the Steward’s daughters.” she continued. Another one he thought, but he managed to press a smile from his red lips.

“What is so funny?” Sador had crossed the room, something Pelien obviously didn't like. Her voice was harsh and she seemed to be dissapointed in a way. Sador finished dressing and saw his wife standing in her 'I-want-an-answer' position. Sador couldn't do anything but give a short laugh.
He explained to her that he just couldn't help it.

"You’ve thrown probably a hundred of these…parties, and you still judge their worth by whether the Steward’s daughters are coming.” She didn't seem to like this, but that was not the intension either. She was a lovely woman, and a lovely hostess, no doubt about that and of course, she was the best wife a man could possably want.

When he told his dear wife this, she couldn't do anything else than to smile at him. Pelien seemed to melt with these words and gave Sador a kiss on the cheek. Sador had meant all he had said, and was pleased with himself that perhaps his wife wasn't going to have loads of parties anymore. The reason was not thet he didn't like his wife to be outgoing, it was just he loved her so much and he wouldn't see her get upset when when... He didn't get the chance to give that another thought.

"Thank you Sador." Pelien returned to her hair brushing. Sador gave a smile, and had really in mind to say something like: Don't thank me, I haven't done anything, but he kept silent.

Instead he asked about their daugher Adrama: “Have you seen Adrama?” he asked as Pelien stood in front of the mirror.

Pelien hadn't seen her either. And she concluded with that maybe she should go and check on her. Sador on the other hand, went to bed.

[ July 08, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-08-2003, 10:28 AM

After the Party

Síriel flopped backward onto her bed without a second thought for her silk dress or the state of her shoes. She was tired and frustrated and intrigued all at once, and didn't want to stop to think about something as mundane as her clothes. A little maid bustling about the room occupied her eyes as her mind spun busily, reviewing the evening's events. The thought of the guard, Thenidir, brought a warm smile to her face, but recalling how he'd winked at that Emilia...

Síriel sighed heavily, a sound that brought her sister scurrying out of the small washroom that adjoined the bedroom. Tíriel shrieked in horror as she saw Síriel's sprawled form on the bed. "Sister get up, get up! Your dress will be ruined! Tíriel had been removing the pins from her hair, and it tumbled loose around her shoulders as she reached for Síriel's hands and pulled her to her feet. She moved around her sister to inspect the crumpled and twisted skirt. "Oh Síriel, you must be more careful." she sighed.

Síriel nodded as Tíriel lectured her on her childishness and her carelessness and all the other faults she likely had. Tír was staying tonight so that the sisters could go to Pelien's luncheon together, and for that Síriel was glad, she loved to have her sister with her. But she did tire of Tír's good sense sometimes, always so precise, so inoffensive. Síriel sighed again, as Tíriel pushed her toward the washroom and started taking down her hair.

"I do hope things go alright at Pelien's tomorrow." Tíriel was saying in a worried tone, "her daughter was always so interested in Denethor." Síriel grinned.

"And what girl wasn't, Sister? After all, little brother grew up handsome." she laughed. "Just because her daughter gave our brother a second look doesn't mean they're going to say nasty things about Finduilas." Tíriel nodded as the two women quickly exchanged their heavy dresses lighter nightclothes and left the washroom.

Several hours later when the chamber maids came in to tidy the washroom the sound of the two women whispering and giggling like little girls could still be heard behind the bedroom door. The maid shook her head, and then moved to pick up Síriel's dress, which had been abandoned on the floor in a turquoise pool.

Arien

07-08-2003, 11:35 AM

After the party...

Alethea made her way up the marble steps towards her chamber. At last the night was over, not that it wasn’t enjoyable. It was just that now Alethea had met Findulas her anxieties ran a lot deeper then thay previously had. But her mother and sister seemed to be confident enough and looked as though they could handle her, and no doubt Dryea would be able to craft a lie about Findulas worthy of herself. No, now that Alethea thought about it there was really nothing to be worried about.

She left the stairs when she reached the first floor and the slowly walked down the wooden floor corridor towards her room. When she reached the fine cedar door, which into had crafted a wilting rose she reached into her purse that hung from her side and withdrew a small copper key. She slid the key delicately into the lock and twisted. The door opened with ease ad Alethea swept in and shut the door tightly behind her. The room was dim, lit only by the fading embers of the grand fire place.

Lazily she flung her purse down onto her bed and lit a few candles on her dressing table. She undressed from her tight corset and skirt and donned a plain white night gown. She washed and combed out her stiff hair. It now fell in slight waves down her back, she tilted her head to the side and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her blue hazy eyes stared back at her through the dimness of the room. She hadn’t seen much at all this night, nor heard anything of any importance.

Hopefully the maids had had more luck as they were able to move freely around the guest and collect more than she had the chance to. All that Althea had seen was Dryea dancing Rhir but she was hardly going to tell on her sister. Their mother believed that men would distract them, and maybe she was right. But Rhir was a gentleman and Alethea saw no wrong in their frienship. He was kind to her and would often question her mother on the subject, but alas to no avail her mother always appeared to win the case.

Now Alethea left her room and hurried across the hall towards her sisters rooms and knocked softly on the door. She was let into the room by Dryea who looked slightly taken aback to see her.

“You looked shocked,” smiled Alethea entering the room and closing the door behind her, Dryea walked over to a chair next to the fire place and sat down. “Were you expecting someone else? Maybe Rhir?”

Dryea shot a look of loathing towards her sister, “ No……I was expecting mother if you must know. How did you know I was with Rhir anyway?” she questioned her voice whispering.

“You were dancing with him, I saw you. Why sister you act like it was totally disgusting that I saw you with him. Remember, I am not mother. I have no objections to him.” said Alethea timidly sitting on the bed facing Dryea.

“No, I am sorry. It is just mother would think I am weak or something along the lines. She would think I was like…like..”

“Me?” Alethea laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. And quickly forgetting it she said, “ so how did it go for you?”

[ July 08, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

maikafanawen

07-08-2003, 02:03 PM

On arrival back in her chambers, Dryea changed quickly out of her extraordinary gown and into a midnight blue silk nightdress over which she pulled her crimson velour robe. Letting down her hair brushing it with her elaborate brush until it shown like the harvest moon. She pulled it back behind her ears to the base of her neck and clasped it with an amber stone barrette to keep our of her face as she washed in her basin.

Cupping the cool water in her hands she rinsed her face, relieving much of the tension in her nerves. She patted her face dry with a towel just as someone knocked. Dryea had been dreading it since Rhircyn left at the door with a kiss: Her mother had seen them that evening.

Dryea took a deep breath and poured herself a small glass of sherry setting the vessel back on its silver tray before she admitted the person on the other side. It was Alethea. She was tired and wished that her sister would wait until tomorrow to canvass about tonight’s events.

“So how did it go for you?” she had asked from where she had settled herself on Dryea’s bed.

“How does it always go? Conversations of politics, weather, and health with people of position and authority. A robust banquet and agreeable dancing. Always enchanting and never beneficial those balls. ‘Tis something one always grows tired of, but when the night is over she always looks forward to the next. Isn‘t that what you wanted to know? Perhaps you should right it down so that whenever you feel like asking a tired woman ‘how did it go?’ you‘ll always be able to refer to that and safe the breath and time.” Alethea laughed.

“Witty, Dryea, but predictable,” she stood and poured herself a small beaker of the amber wine tasting it tentatively. Dryea calmed down considerably, grateful to her younger sister for her patience. She took a seat on the loveseat by the fireplace, taking her feet out of her black slippers and curling them under her.

“I trust everything went well for you then?” Alethea opened her mouth to answer when a second knock came at the door.

“I’ve already gotten my fresh bedclothes, decanter of sherry, and my bath water heated what in the world do they want know?” demanded Dryea exasperatedly as she shouted for the maid to come in. The timid servant entered, her eyes on the floor. The noblewoman bit back her lip, sorry she had been cross. “Oh,” she said tenderly. “I am so sorry. It’s late and I’m right tired. Please forgive my short temper.” It was not like Dryea to chide the servants anyhow so the maid relaxed and delivered her message confidently.

“Your mother wishes your company in her chambers.” Dryea froze and Alethea looked quickly towards the maid, having to turn in her seat to see past the curtains drawn on the opposite side of the bed.

“Thank you,” said Dryea. The maid bowed and backed out, closing the door silently behind her. Alethea looked apprehensively towards her sister.

“She knows,” she whispered, clapping her left hand over her mouth, almost sloshing her sherry over the side of her cup. Dryea shrugged and set her glass down on the table, lacing up the front of her robe.

“I thought so. Well don’t look so timorous,” she said firmly. Though their mother was an imposing woman, Dryea was hardly frightened of her. “You may wait here if you wish,” she offered. “I’ll only be a moment.” Alethea shook her head.

“Thank you but no. I’m going to tuck in. Goodnight.” She left quickly, catching the end of her night dress in the door. Dryea chuckled.

Ruiel’s room was on the east wing of the citadel and a good distance from Dryea‘s and Alethea‘s rooms. Finally the tapestry of the last king of Gondor and his wife came into view marking where Ruiel’s door stood just across from it. She knocked hesitantly waiting for her mother to call her in, hopeful that whatever she had to say didn't include Rhir.

Elora

07-08-2003, 10:36 PM

After the Party

Ruiel studied Ränne's bowed head. A smile flickered there, unseen by the other woman. Ränne was tired and it had been a trying day. With lords and ladies fluttering hither and thither in their finery, maids such as Ränne were left to race about after them. Still, despite all this, Ränne had proved herself once again. The woman had seen and heard much as she had worked that day with all but invisible speed.

Looking aside to her glass, Ruiel toyed with the stem as she spoke on.

"I hear that you are held in high esteem, Ränne," she said with amusement. Ränne looked up in some uncertainty, her earlier shame only now fading from her cheeks. It leant her an innocent expression that was both becoming and utterly inappropriate.

"My lady, I do not understand," she replied, eyes wide. Ruiel's brows arched.

"Do you not? You have come to the attention of none other than Findulias herself. Such an honour," Ruiel purred. Ränne, who knew better than most how her mind turned, looked uncomfortable. The other woman shook her head.

"I did not seek that duty, m'lady" she said quickly.
"But, you have it, Ränne. Do you not? I was confident I heard the bride-to-be clearly. Am I mistaken?"

Ränne quickly chose between the safer course. Better to acknowledge the truth than suggest that Ruiel was mistaken.

"Findulias did name me, my lady. But my duty is to-," she said swiftly. Ruiel cut her off mercilessly.
"Your duty, Ränne, is to serve. Findulias has named you, and I bid you to do so," Ruiel smiled again and sipped at her wine.
"It well suits me that she has done so. This works directly into our hands. Now, see to the bedding," Ruiel waved her hand in the direction of the taffeta upholstered bed, and stood herself as she drained her glass.

As she pondered the necessity to extract Dryea from her chambers, a knock sounded at her door. Ruiel set her empty glass down, smoothed her skirts and again voiced her customary "Come!"

Dryea appeared in the doorway. Ruiel clasped her hands in front of her, making no move to close the distance between her and her daughter or break the silence that had sprung up.

"Mother," Dryea said somewhat hesitantly. Ruiel remained silent in the dancing light of the hearth behind her. Dryea mustered herself admirably and stepped forward to let the door close behind her.

"You sent for me, mother," Dryea said as she walked to a respectable distance. It was not seemly to shout at your mother from the other side of the room.

"I was pleased with the day, Dryea," Ruiel said mildly in a tone that did not match the iron in her gaze.

"As was I, mother," Dryea cautiously agreed, knowing what was to come should she step but one foot incorrectly. Ruiel gestured smoothing at the glasses on the side board, and Dryea demurred wisely. Her mother turned away to face the hearth, yet Dryea was not dismissed so lightly.

"I trust you acquainted yourself with all the dignitaries, daughter? I heard a range of innuendo and rumour sweep the room."

"I did, mother. The rumours were readily taken up. There is little warmth towards Findulias amongst the ladies of Minas Tirith."

"And what of the men of the court? How are they disposed?"

Dryea recognised what yawned before her feet, yet all she had was her mother's back to observe. It was straight, held in elegant repose as she waited for her daughter's response.

"Some... some are taken by her beauty and some have little shrift for a stranger, pretty or not. Those enamoured should prove malleable, as I had planned," Dryea said, hoping to find safer ground in discussion of their machinations. It was not to be.

"You are exquisite, and certainly able to outshine Findulias, daughter," Ruiel said as she turned to her side to study Dryea. Some relief appeared in her daughter's face when the storm she had expected did not break.

"See that it is so, Dryea, for you will not shine when garbed by one man's arms." There was the snap of maternal command in her voice as she finished her statement. Dryea's chin bobbed up in alarm.

"Too much has been invested to allow foolish childish sentiment to pull it down. If you do not see to it, know that I will!"

Ruiel did not raise her voice, nor did she frown. Yet, the threat was implicit, for Dryea was familiar with her mother's capacity to see things done at all cost. Whether her daughter agreed or not made little difference to Ruiel, and she turned back to the fire for a moment whilst Dryea wrestled with conflicting emotions.

"You have done well and you will continue to do well. Good evening, Dryea."

Ruiel turned to watch Dryea depart, mind occupied with her daughters. Perhaps, if Dryea proved too head strong, Alethea could step in. The girl had potential, afterall she was her daughter. It would be inconvenient, and Dryea would have to be dealt with. Somewhere within Ruiel, painful fear at what that might mean flickered, but she siezed that with an iron fist and silenced it. Damn Rhir, and all men with him!

Ränne was doing her best to appear invisible, and so when Ruiel turned to her, she was not well pleased. Such an exchange was dangerous to overhear, deadly even. Ruiel watched Ränne walk out from the other side of the bed, where she had pulled back the luxuriant bedding with her efficient grace. Ruiel's smile was back in place as she studied the maid. Of all the day's work, Ränne had achieved the most. It was no small surprise the woman was tired.

"Did you see Pelian and Sador today, Ränne?"
"Yes, m'lady," Ränne replied, looking up with a hesitant smile of her own.
"Seems she has still to disentangle herself from that clod of a husband. Disappointing, for Pelian has much potential, yet convenient as she would make a challenging adversary that I do not have to contend with whilst Sador is in attendance.

Perhaps we could send the happy couple a bouquet. It would a mark of gratitude for Sador remarkable longevity and a mark of sympathy for his corralled wife. I will ponder it some more," Ruiel said with ascerbic humour that set her eyes gleaming. Ränne's smile blossomed, in no small part a measure of her relief.

Ruiel reached back to unbind her hair. It swung in a heavy rope down her back, freed once the ornate pins that had held it into place were removed. She shook her head as it unravelled and spread over her back, rich against the indigo of her gown.

"It has been a long and tiring day, Ränne. You should rest, for you will need your wits about you," Ruiel suggested, a hint of command in her voice also. Yet, her face was softer as she beheld Ränne. A trace of affection was allowed to come to the surface, both in her shared jest and her expression.

Ruiel turned to the wardrobe and proceeded to peel the heavy gown from her in readiness for the night. She hung it and pulled another out for the morning, and clad in a silk shift of a green-blue hue that shifted in the light, she retired.

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

Everdawn

07-09-2003, 12:24 AM

Vieana was quite lost, and the day had become later. She was quite relieved when she set eyes on a group of Dol Amroth guards, who were of course of Finduilas guard.

They saw her coming and bowed. "M'lady" they said. "Are you allright?" another queried. Vieana looked up at them all. "Why, yes, I am fine. Why shouldnt I be?" she asked, and then quickly forgetting to wait for an answer, she went on. "You have not seen any of the other Ladies have you?"

"No Lady Vieana, should we have seen them?" said the first guard apprehensivly. Vieana sighed, "No, its just that I so wanted to speak with a familliar face, and I am always late, i just supposed they where about that's all." She put her hands on her hips as though deep in thought. "It is wonderful here, though, I do miss the salt air that we have in Dol Amroth."

The guards seemed reluctant to say anything. "Yes, m'lady, it is... great. Though they do not do things here as we do in Dol Amroth, under the general that is. And the Captain Dardanir." replied the second. "Yes, Dardanir..." repeated Vieana still in thought, "If I give you a message, would you be able to find a messenger to take it to Captain Dardanir?" she asked.
"Yes, certainly." said the third guard.

"I just wonder where the other ladies are!" Vieana said seating herself on a bench and crossing her arms.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

*Varda*

07-09-2003, 08:10 AM

The moonlight shone into Elena’s room, the only source of light as Elena got ready for bed. Changing into her blue nightgown, she sat in front of her mirror, brushing her hair out. Too awake to sleep, she sat and mulled over the events of the night.

Finduilas not who she seemed to be? It was a strange thought…surely she could never expect to come to Minas Tirith and not be discovered? Still, everything would surely come out in time – the women of Minas Tirith would not allow this to go on, if they had the slightest suspicion they were being lied to. Restless, Elena rose from her seat and stood by the window. The city looked beautiful at night, with the moonbeams shining over the towers, and candles flickering at some of the windows. It was so much better to be here, where she had her independence.

Lighting a candle, Elena sat on her bed and picked up a large, leather bound book. Opening it, she sat and read for a while, until the light had died down to a mere dot and her eyelids were struggling to stay open. She lay back on the bed, and fell asleep.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The sun streamed into her room the next morning, bathing everything in a warm light. Sitting up in bed, Elena recalled the invitation to Pelien’s luncheon that very day. Pulling off the covers, she dressed in a simple wine coloured dress, before the maid helped her to pin her hair up.

"Elsa? See that breakfast is ready in fifteen minutes, please." The maid nodded and left the room.

Finally, fastening on a silver necklace, Elena left to eat breakfast and find someone to spend the duration of the morning with.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Orofaniel

07-09-2003, 08:41 AM

After the Party...

It had been a long day, and the party was over. Finduilas had looked amazing and so had the guests. While walking away form the party, in the long hallway towards her chambers, she thought of the nice lad that had blinked. After her little "incident" with the butler, that caught her, she never saw him again.

Too bad, she though, he had such a nice smile. And then she rememberd his eyes, the eyes that had blinked. She was suddnely feeling quite excited. She din't know why, though. It was just a merry feeling streaming inside of her.

As she reached her chambers she walked towards the door. Shetried to open it, but te door was stuck. She didn't know what to do so she kind of of "bumped" into it. The door was still stuck. "Isn't this typical?" she said to herself. "What to do now?" she thought.

For some minutes she just stood there bside the door, just as she was waiting for the door to open itself. But she didn't stand there long before she decided to give it another try. She was so tired that she had to go to bed now, or she would fall asleep, that she knew for certain. She took a step so she stood in front of it, and then she started to push. Finally the door opened, and the poor maid stepped in.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-09-2003, 03:12 PM

As Emilia brushed out her long, shining hair she watched darkness fall outside the window. By degrees the sky faded to royal blue, then black crept across the sky towards the West. It was a beautiful night. Above, stars winked through faint whisps of cloud. Emilia remembered that when she was little her father had taken her and her brother outside in the cool dark and told them the old Elven names of the stars. Menelvagor the huntsman, Soroúmë the eagle, Remmiraith and the special stars of the Gondorian banner- the Sickle of the Valar. She could still recite the names, just as she could still see her father’s face in the fleeting light shining from their windows while he reached up pointing.

In daytime different things were important, but at night the old habits re-emerged in her head. She missed Father, but he was due to write tomorrow. That meant a letter from Mama too, and a more welcome one from Emrin her brother.

After the normal 150 strokes, Emilia slowly readied herself for bed, the short, plump maid dashing round the room while Emilia sat and digested the day’s events. Somehow, sitting in her room she could not be bothered to think of what to do. With a yawn she decided to wait until the morning and went to bed resolved NOT to dream of Thenidir.

Annalaliath

07-09-2003, 03:53 PM

Gwen Hurried back to the house that she served lived and listened. She strode past streets preferring the dark and twisted alleyways. Her foot fall was seldom heard on this stone, as she padded along to the house where night gowns and bed waited. The book in her pocket continued to bump lazily against her leg as she walked swiftly to her home.

Approaching it she saw its doors, they would not do, she was late. She went around to the back, skirting the large building, avoiding the windows. She found the door she was looking for, a small wooden thing that was hidden far back in a recess in the wall of the house. Like all old houses there were secret, most likely forgotten halls and doors that were used by servants f old to keep out of the way of the nobility in them. She slipped inside this door, she had found it only a few days ago, and to her knowledge no one else knew of it.

Inside, the close stone walls pushed in on her. It was dark and dusty. No torches or candles burned here, for lack of use, so she had stashed a few candle stumps and tender box just inside the door. Lighting one of these she made her way up through corridors and rotting wooden stairs, to the top of the house where the maids and the servants lived. She counted the doors till she was at her own and she slipped inside to her well kept room.

She started her night by slipping into her white simple nightdress. Really a white wool sheath that fitted her loosely. She then crept down the stairs to Dryea's door and stood there waiting. For her mistress to come or others to leave. For she had much apologizing to do.

[ July 10, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

elven maiden Earwen

07-09-2003, 04:26 PM

Eleniel wandered aimlessly around the citadel. She had no clue where she was. She had spent an hour or so searching for the other ladies of Dol Amroth but she couldn’t find them. She sighed. She needed to talk to a familiar face. She headed down a hall. She passed many soldiers and maids. Where could they be? She turned the corner.

As she turned the corner she ran into a lady from Minas Tirth. She remembered meeting her. What was her name? Adrama, Emilia? No. It wasn’t Dryea or Alethea, they were sisters. Elena, that’s it!

“I’m sorry Elena” Eleniel quickly said with a polite smile. “I was looking for Finduilas, but I got lost.” She added.

“It’s fine. I’m alright” Elena replied calmly.

“Would you happen to know where Finduilas might be?”

“No, sorry I don’t” Elena replied.

“Oh. Well nice to see you again” Eleniel said and with a polite curtsey she hurried of down the hall. Good job Eleniel, going around and running into the ladies of Minas Tirth. Great way to get yourself a reputation a klutz, she thought to her self.

Maybe I should look to see if they are in their rooms, Eleniel thought as she turned another corner. She noticed a group of Dol Amroth soldiers standing by a bench.

“Vienna!” Eleniel cried as she noticed Vienna sitting on a bench. “Have you seen the others?”

Snowdog

07-10-2003, 12:05 PM

The end of the night to the next morning...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ränne remained quiet during the exchange between mother and daughter, readying Ruiel's bed and making sure there was fresh water for her to drink during the night. Ränne was tired, and she eyed the wine.. wine she could not touch... and so she waited.

Ränne could see the tension in Ruiel's face, and with subtle expressions, Ränne was able to get her to soften some. Helping Ruiel remove her coak and prepare for bed, it was soon after giving her a massage that she went to sleep, and Ränne was free to retire.

Yes, to her bed-chamber that was through a door from Ruiel's chamber, Ränne slipped into and dressed for the night. A black silken wrap was all, with a thin belt to hold it closed, and laying out on her mat she dug under it for the herb and pipe. It was a custom of smoking pipeweed that had spread south from a place in the north called the Shire, And Ränne had aquired the pipe from a traveler. It did come in handy for her relaxation in her limited free hours, even though there was no pipeweed to be had. She found that a weed used in the House of Healing called Kingsfoil, when dried, worked as a fine relaxant when smoked.

As she rested, she was thinking about Dryea and the soldier she danced with... what should she not be happy to do and love as she will? Should a young woman's pleasures all be taken away for political expedience? Surely Ruiel thought so...

Her thoughts then turned to Finduilas, and how she could be manipulated... Ränne would have to get with Dryea sometime with a proposal of how to best carry this off... a slight tincture.. colorless and oderless in the red wine Finduilas favored... just a slight amount... to cause depression....

Ränne drifted off to sleep and dream to gain some much-needed rest before the next days duties.

As the sun broke about the White City, Ränne turned upon her mat and dug for the dark herbleaf she had and chewed it. Being invigorated so, she arose and bathed quickly before donning a simple white maids dress, stowing her small herb pouch in its hidden pocket under her aprons. She then tended to making Ruiel's awakening pleasing to her...

'Good morning m'lady'

Ruiel moaned as she awoke. She insisted on being woken by this time every day, and so it was today.

"There is much to be done this day Ränne. I will bathe in private while you waken my daughters."

Ränne bowed with her eyes down, and turned to leave to call on the daughters. It would be a good time to bring up her thoughts about Finduilas, and wished to let her know that her enjoying the company of the handsome Gondorian soldier was sweet and that she would do what she could to soften Ruiel's disapproval...

[ July 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-11-2003, 06:42 PM

The next morning.

Meirelle awoke to a bird crying loudly outside her window. Glancing at the large clock in her quarters, she was pleased to note that she was not late in awakening. She stretched leisurely and slowly got out of bed. As she got herself ready for the day, Meirelle ran what she had to accomplish through her mind. It had seemed easy enough when she was first told, but now it was proving to be difficult.

When she had started to walk down the long corridor towards the eating room, it wasn't long before she heard whispered snatches of rumours.

"Finduilas? Really? But the lady seemed so nice..."

"...not herself. A secret identity!"

"Lying about her identity. What a pity."

A slow smile crept across Meirelle's face as she made her way towards the eating room. Someone had already done some work-Dryea, no doubt. She never had liked procrastination. As she stepped lightly down the stairs, she smiled at a guard passing by (who smiled back). She finally got into the maids' eating quarters and settled herself at a table with a bowl of porridge and a cup of warm milk.

[ July 11, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

maikafanawen

07-11-2003, 06:54 PM

The sun hit the windows of Dryea’s room early and fast like a sudden bolt of lightening. She sat up blinking the red spots out of her eyes and slid off the bed into her slippers. Ränne had not yet come to wake her and after stumbling over to the windowsill, where she could peek down into the garden at the sundial, saw that it was only half an hour past dawn.

The maids had been up for exactly an hour and breakfast was already set on her small table ready for her enjoyment. Dryea had always insisted on eating breakfast first thing in the morning. It was her source of energy and she joked that it was direly needed for fitting in her corset because once the food was digested, the undergarment would loosen. She helped herself to three apple tarts and two cups of the honeyed tea she fancied. Flipping idly through her book she spent less than usual on her breakfast and was ready to prepare for the day in just over ten minutes of waking.

Her feet weren’t sore like they usually were after a night full of dancing but she rubbed jasmine oil on them all the same after bathing and before getting dressed.

This morning she chose a silk goldenrod dress with simple sleeves and inch-wide lace that crisscrossed up the bodice. Ränne arrived just in time to help tie up the back of her corset before donning her dress.

“I am sorry your mother doesn’t approve of Rhir m’lady,” she said, concentrating on the stays. Dryea smiled. Good old Ränne. “If there’s something I can do,” she stepped back motioning to Dryea to turn and attempt to sit in her corset. “How does it hold?”

“It’s fine. My dress too please.” Lady Morthaniawen stood still as Ränne carefully tied the bow in the back of the dress finishing up the lacing that held the dress together.

“This is a dazzling dress, Dryea. New?” Dryea nodded, smiling brilliantly into the mirror. It was a nice dress. It molded nicely onto her figure and wasn’t too fancy: just the modern style.

“Thank you very much Ränne but I don’t think mother will soften.” Shrugging, the maid left the room and moved on to Alethea’s to wake her.

Dryea finished with a small splash of sandalwood-rose perfume and added some simple jewelry: a gold ring in the shape of a rose and a thin necklace to match. Then, slipping into her brown house shoes she left her room.

It was a day to mirror her dress: stunning and cheerful. She knew that she didn’t have much of a reason to feel so uplifted but she couldn’t push the beam from her face. Two troublesome things had occurred: her mother didn’t approved of Rhir for political reasons, and Finduilas was going to prove a threat to their plans. With these two things weighing slightly on her mind she ran into Elena who was on her way to breakfast.

“Won’t you join me?” she asked Dryea. Lady Morthaniawen agreed.

“I could do with something light I suppose.” Deciding to take their morning meal onto the back terrace, they sat in the early morning light and chattered of the previous night’s happenings.

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Nurumaiel

07-11-2003, 07:52 PM

Adrama's eyes fluttered open as the first rays of morning shone through her open window. Pushing the covers off, she rolled over onto her stomach and let the sun warm her back. She lay her chin in her hands, staring at the headboard of the bed. She knew something rather exciting was going to happen today, but she couldn't quite remember what it was.

A merry laugh escaped her as the door to her room opened and her mother peered in. That was all she had needed to remember. Her mother was holding the luncheon party today for the ladies of Minas Tirith, and there she was sure to find revenge on Finduilas.

Rolling back over, she sat up in bed and smiled sweetly and Pelien. "Good morning, Mother," she said, jumping out of bed, her bare feet softly hitting the floor as she hurried on light and springy feet to her wardrobe. Opening it, she flipped through the row of dressed impatiently, until at last she decided on a cream-colored dress trimmed with black, and a black leather belt around the waist. Catching it up, she held it to herself and spun in a few circles, humming a little tune. Then, looking back up at her mother, she said, "See, it still shall fit me!"

Pelien laughed at her daughter as she advanced. Laying her hands on Adrama's shoulders, she kissed the young woman's cheek. "Good morning, my little one," she said. "You are in quite a good mood today. Are you that excited about the luncheon?"

"Yes, Mother, I am," said Adrama, picking up the brush on her desk and gently running it through her dark hair, wincing a little whenever it would hit a tangle. "I think it will be most exciting and wonderful." She paused a little, her brow wrinkling as she studied her mother carefully. "That is, if you intend to bring me?"

"I was intending to," Pelien replied.

Heartened by this, Adrama chattered on as she searched through a drawer, at last triumphantly bringing out a black ribbon, which she tied in her hair after putting it up in a simple fashion. Gesturing for her mother to turn, she tossed her nightgown carelessly onto the bed and slipped into her cream-colored dress. After surveying herself in the mirror, she had her mother turn about again, asking a little anxiously, "Do I look all right?"

"You look wonderful, dear," said Pelien. "But I think it would be a good idea for you to take your hair down and fix it up again before the luncheon. It looks all right now, but by the time our little party comes, it might need some redoing."

"Very sensible, Mother," said Adrama with a little nod. "Yes, thank you for mentioning it." Singing to herself, she picked up one end of her skirt and began to twirl around the room. Her mother smiled fondly at her and went to the bed to recover the abandoned nightgown. Putting it back in the wardrobe, she left Adrama's room to answer a soft knock at the door.

Adrama twirled round and round, singing nonsense to herself, admiring the skirt of the dress she hadn't worn in so long and thinking forward to the luncheon party. Yes, it would be very exciting. Not only would she be treated like an older person, as she considered herself to be, but she would also be able to hear so many horrible things said about Finduilas. The latter was to be the best part of all. Sitting down on her bed to clear her dizziness, she wondered if anyone would mention the jewel that she had worn last night. She hoped so.

The door opened and Pelien came in, a curious expression on her face. Adrama described the air of her mother to herself in her thoughts as the air of one who was predicting the future. Pelien spoke in a rather bored way, as if she knew what the answer was. "Addruran is at the door. He wanted to know if he could see you."

"Oh." Adrama stood up again, irritated. Did that pest always have to annoy her? Well, no wonder her answer was so predictable. "Tell him to go away and never come back," she said. Her mother left the room, and Adrama guessed that Addruran would be told in a different way than instructed. As long as he just realized!

Adrama sighed and looked out the window, clenching the sill tightly. If only Addruran would be like he used to when they were just children. They had been the best of friends. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? Why couldn't they be friends? He cared for her more than a friend, and she was coming to hate him, just like she hated Finduilas. Did everyone have to annoy her and make her life worse than it was already?

"Don't think about it," she murmured. "Think about the luncheon, where there will be no Addruran, no Finduilas... just a peaceful luncheon with the kinder people of Gondor."

Elora

07-11-2003, 11:29 PM

The Morning of the Luncheon

Ruiel dismissed Ränne on the day's work with a wave of her hand. She watched the other woman depart with a thoughtful expression. Once the door clicked behind Ränne, Ruiel smoothed the fine green linen of her gown and glided to the cedarwood desk. A matching, ornate chair upholstered in a rich old gold taffeta, sat tucked into it which Ruiel pulled out and settled into. She shook the ends of the draped sleeve of her gown free of her hand, and extracted a small delicate key from a fine chain that hung around her neck and nestled in her bosom beneath the sweep of her neckline.

Fitting the key to the lock, she heard the quick click of the well maintained mechanism and slid the drawer open. She sorted through the papers and parchements that lay within swiftly, and withdrew a selection before closing the drawer and restoring the key to its place safekeeping. With a businesslike expression, Ruiel directed her attention to a recently commissioned work.

She unfolded the vellum that the lineages had been inscribed upon and studied them for some time. Her eyes flickered over names of the minor and major houses of Minas Tirith. Then, she smoothed it out and laid it upon the polished desk and opened another document which she studied alone in its turn. A finely drawen brow rose as she considered the details before and then she set the second document out beside the first.

The Houses of Dol Amroth lay beside those of Minas Tirith. The line of Isildur and Elendil she dismissed with a contemptuous smile. Upstarts from the beginning, they had faded through mishap, misfortune and misjudgement that one could expect from such an inferior bloodline, unlike that of Umbar. Rather she inspected the houses of the Steward and his vassals, and also his known political opponents and compared it to Dol Amroth.

The linkages between the two were tenuous but still present, a fact Ruiel had discerned much earlier in anticipation of Findulias' cool reception upon announcement of the engagement. It was no wonder Gondor viewed the recently arrived courtiers from Dol Amroth with such resentment. The links by marriage and descent were old and lordlings had notorious short memories, something Ruiel had exploited before now.

But there was something more than that in the charts in lineage and ancestry. Already suspicion as to Findulias' identity was alive. In the concentrated hothouse of the court, it would spread rapidly. Gondor was well disposed to such unkindly reports of the newcome bride-to-be. The question now was how to further entrench the doubt. What identity would most repel Gondor and further isolate Findulias. Moreso, what would cast doubt over the Steward and de-stablise his hold over Gondor. It was those possibilities that Ruiel now read the charts for.

Her lips curved in a delighted smile as she settled on the best solution. There had long been rumour that one not so Faithful had found refuge with those who had set out prior to Numenor's sinking by the treacherous and greedy Valar. Indeed, in Umbar she had followed this survivor's descendants with some interest. What ruin would befall if it became known that Findulias was none other than a descendant of Ar-Pharazon... for Findulias and the grave downfall in the descendants of the "noble" House of Hurin...

Ruiel folded the documents, replaced them in the drawer and locked it once more. She arose from the desk with a rich smile of satisfaction in place and cool light of calculation in her gaze. House Morthaniawen would be in a position to intervene once the news was out and the revolt underway. Yes, the Steward would be banished, poor Finduilas spirited away to a remote location and there left to be forgotten, and Gondor would be under the proper rule of Umbar, once she had ceded the power to Umbar. Until then, it would be under the rule of Morthaniawen.

When Lady Ruiel entered the dining hall, garbed in the elegant drape of fine linen, she wore her satisfaction as if she wore the wealth of the Kings of Gondor, and she shone with it. Walkin with regal grace and manner, she swept along nodding and smiling at those already in the dining room. Already a contingent of Gondorian nobles were gathering. Ruiel smiled at each and moved towards them.

Ealasaid

07-12-2003, 04:11 AM

Averyll had awakened early on the morning after the welcoming party for Finduilas. Unable to sleep, she had dressed herself and gone out for a walk through the streets of Minas Tirith, as dawn crept through the city and its residents prepared to greet the new day. Finding a bakery a few blocks beyond the residence where she and the other Dol Amroth ladies were staying, she watched as the baker opened the doors to his shop and swept the doorstep.

Seeing her, the baker turned toward her with a smile. "Greetings and a good morning to you,fair lady," he said pleasantly. "I've barely opened my doors and here you are... not even my first customer of the day. It must have been a fine party last night up at the palace!"

Averyll smiled and returned his greeting. "Yes, it was a lovely party. Everyone was so fine and amiable."

"Were they!" echoed the baker. "I hear tell that the steward's bride-to-be has made her debut now. Did you happen to see her? Is she as beautiful as they say she is?"

"Oh, every bit," Averyll smiled. Finduilas had been stunning, but there really was no reason to tell this man that she, herself, was one of Finduilas' ladies, rather than just a casual party-goer.

The baker glanced around and leaned toward her with a conspiratorial wink. "You know, they say she, the Lady Finduilas, is really not from Dol Amroth at all."

Averyll could barely hide her shock. "Who says that?" she asked, her blue eyes widening.

The baker lay his index finger along the side of his nose and nodded, winking again, as though he alone was privy to the truth. "Oh, I have my sources down at the palace."

"Do you, now!" exclaimed Averyll, deciding on the spot to play along with the man. She could decide later whether this new intelligence was something to be concerned about, or just the idle prattle of a bored shopkeeper. "How exciting! But who would say such a thing about such a lovely lady?"

The baker grinned in a cagey manner. "Oh, there are those at the palace with a fondness for my special sticky buns. Now I can't tell you who -- that would be bad form indeed -- but if you would like to try a sticky bun yourself..." The grin turned from cagey to inviting. "I just took some out of the oven."

Averyll suddenly had the mental picture of a spider inviting the fly into his web for a sticky bun. She smiled politely. "I'm sure they are wonderful, but, really, a lady must watch her figure," she finished demurely. The baker, a rather large fellow, nodded aprovingly. She took a step backward and, after a few more inane pleasantries, took her leave of the baker.

The gossip regarding Finduilas troubled her greatly. She hoped it was just the idle nonsense of a busybody, but it made her anxious to get back to the palace to do some discreet listening, to see if anyone else was saying anything similar.

*Varda*

07-12-2003, 04:48 AM

Dryea and Elena sat outside on the terrace. It was barely an hour after dawn, and all of Minas Tirith was bathed in the warm light of the newly risen sun. Elena laughed at the people who were too warmly wrapped up in their beds that they would miss such a beautiful hour of the day.

Turning round to Dryea, she drifted out of her reverie to find she was being asked a question.

“How did you find the welcoming ball last night, Elena?” Dryea was asking her.

“Oh, it was good fun,” Elena said, nodding. “It was spoilt a little by everyone doting on Finduilas though, I must say. Pretty she is, but just another woman really…and the idea she isn’t who she seems to be…!” The expression on Elena’s face seemed to show she was in two minds about whether to believe this or not.

“Yes, how do you feel about that?” Dryea asked evenly, allowing Elena to talk on.

Elena picked up her cup, sipped from it, and placed it back on the table, her face furrowed in concentration as she sorted out her thoughts on the matter, coming to no firm conclusion.

“I wish I knew. She seems friendly, not as though she was lying at all…if she is not Finduilas of Dol Amroth, then who is she? And surely the Steward would have been a little suspicious…?” Elena’s voice trailed off, her doubts over the idea of Finduilas’s other identity expressed.

Estelyn Telcontar

07-12-2003, 07:34 AM

Diorwyn had slept fitfully; her surroundings were too strange yet for comfort, and she was unused to lying in a bed alone. As Finduilas’ seamstress, she was staying near the princess to be of assistance whenever her clothing needed change or repairs. She missed her family at home as well as her friends and relatives here in the White City. How nice it would have been to have someone of her own kind to talk to!

She resolved to finish her morning’s work as quickly as possible in order to have time to visit Gwinniel’s shop for a chat with her former colleagues there. When a maid brought Finduilas’ and Tessa’s dresses, she was ready to begin immediately. Fortunately, since they had been standing still for most of the time at the reception, there were very few small tears to sew. The maid responsible for cleaning the soiled hemlines would have some work, but all in all, her works of art, as she secretly thought of them, had suffered little.

She had some breakfast in the room reserved for the higher maids and personnel, then she walked through the streets of Minas Tirith briskly. When she opened the back door to the workshop, heads turned and faces lit up with welcoming smiles. A chorus of voices attempted to claim her attention, and she raised both hands in laughing protest.

“One at a time!” she exclaimed. Not even many years spent in rooms full of sewing women had accustomed her to understanding this kind of confusion. Work ceased for a few moments while they exchanged news of births, deaths and growing children. Gwinniel, who still came into the shop daily and kept a sharp eye on the work despite her high age, smiled indulgently from her desk. She knew that the interruption would not really slow down their work; excitement made the needles fly even faster afterwards.

The talk turned to the princess from Dol Amroth, and the women plied Diorwyn with questions about her. She answered with enthusiasm, describing her beauty and grace, and soon they were deep in discussions about the clothing that had been made in both cities for the noble ladies.

Later, alone in Gwinniel’s quarters, the elder woman said, “There are strange rumours abroad about Finduilas.”

“What kind of rumours?” Diorwyn asked, puzzled. She gasped when Gwinniel told her what she had heard whispered during the course of the evening. “Who would say such a thing? And who would profit from such evil gossip?” she wondered.

“Let us not speak of this openly,” Gwinniel replied, “but keep our ears open. Perhaps we shall be able to locate the source and find out more about those who wish your lady ill.”

Thoughtfully Diorwyn walked back to her chamber. She reached her room just in time for the noon repast.

Arien

07-12-2003, 08:45 AM

The Morning of the Luncheon

The sun streamed through Alethea’s window, bathing the grand room in the fresh morning sunlight. She rolled over on the bed, to face the fire place which was now extinguished except for a few last dying embers which refused to give up on glowing. She sat there for a few minuets listening to the early morning maids going out on their duties. As she got up from her bed a knock came on the door.

“Yes? She said clearly speaking towards the door, “ Who is it?” a pause came as Alethea slowly walked to the door her hair falling perfectly to her side. She always wondered why it did this, other women, when the rose from a nights sleep their hair was not much top desire but hers was strange, it was perfect. She walked to the door and asked again.

“Its Meirelle,” Alethea smiled and opened the door with her key. It was always locked whether she was in it or out of her room, safety procedure is what she always told herself, but in truth she liked to escape the world. She never liked maids coming in and out of her room, doing things she was perfectly capable of her self. She placed the key into the lock and opened the door to reveal Meirelle.

“Hello…” said Alethea wearily, sleep still lingering.

“Good morning Miss Morthaniawen,” she beamed at her, a tray in hand no doubt full of breakfast. Alethea let her in shutting and locking the door behind them.

“How many times Meirelle?” Alethea laughed, lazily slumping down into the closest chair to her.

“How many times what Miss Morthaniawen?” replied the maid innocently.

“You know very well…..my name is Alethea, it may be Miss Morthaniawen, but I prefer Alethea. I am not my sister nor my mother……Do you find me calling you by your second name?” Meirelle placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “well don’t do it to me, I have known you long enough!” Alethea really hated being called Miss Morthaniawen. It was so, so fake. Why not call people by the real names instead of giving them some glorified stature by calling them Miss or Lady or Lord. She knew well that if they were not to be suspected I Minas Tirith then they had to adorn themselves with that false pretence. But she didn’t see the point. Alethea now watched as Meirelle opened her wardrobe pulling out the more disgusting of her dresses, it was a pale blue dress, with thousands of frills and lacy bits. To far over the top for any occasion. Alethea preferred the more simple dresses

“Are you serious?” Alethea laughed. Skipping over the wardrobe and placing the dress back in. Instead she pulled a plain cream dress out. It fell to the floor simply and the corset was tied at the back with a thick cream ribbon. “This is what I want to wear.”

Meirelle helped her dress, doing up the corset and then the two sat down before the fire place and Alethea started to eat. She picked up a slice of toast and ate it as Meirelle told her of the previous nights events. She liked Meirelle, she seemed to be a genuine person unlike those she was surrounded by, including herself. They laughed together for a while and Alethea shared out her breakfast with her, the breakfast she received down in the kitchen was not exactly the best ever. But Meirelle didn’t complain.

When the had finished Mierelle left and Alethea brushed her hair and sprayed herself with lavender. As she walked out she caught a last glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought back to what Meirelle had said. The rumours have started, we will be ok Alethea. So everything was going to plan. She left her room and headed out.

Everdawn

07-13-2003, 02:05 AM

Vieana looked up to see Elen standing above her. "Oh!, i dont know where any of them are! and you know as well as i do that i am the one who is most likely to be late for any occasion." she sighed, filcking an ant off her grey dress.

"I think that, since we have tried our hardest to find them, that it is not their turn to find us. Dont you think?" Vieana smiled and stood up. "I dont suppose it was my imagination was it? have you noticed something odd about this... this whole affair? Well, you know me, i will never say a bad word against anyone, but Elen, it does seem a bit cold here."

Vieana took Elen's arm and lead her out of hearing distance of the Dol Amroth guards. "The guards- they are acting in the oddest of moods. They seem very apprehensive towards the Minas Tirith guards, and i mean this is Gondor, not Rohan, Harad or even Roahn, it is so strange that men of the same country can seem to not be getting along. Everytime my husband speaks of the guards here, it is always in the fondest manner." Vieana frowned.

"Do you see then?"

Annalaliath

07-13-2003, 12:50 PM

Gwen woke in her room, a small but well kept room. She dressed into another one of her three dresses, a black one that she loved. It was simple, and she liked that about it. She slipped her apron over it and then she pulled in her black socks, and then her black leather shoes. Her mother sent her care packages with cloths, books, and letters. The letters told her that if she just pretended to act normal life would be much better for her. Gwen wondered what normal was.

She slipped out of her room, through the hidden door, and down to the kitchen where the other maids were eating breakfast. She was standing in the middle of the cavernous pantry, when she thought of what she did miss. But this thought was only fleeting and she came into the kitchen proper and ate herself a hurried breakfast. After which she busied herself about making breakfast for the mistresses of the house.

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

alaklondewen

07-13-2003, 06:37 PM

The morning of the Luncheon

Pelien stood in the doorway and watched Addruran as he walked out to the street. The poor boy was obviously infatuated with Adrama, but Pelien was more than relieved her daughter showed little interest in him. Their relationship was fine when they were children, but now that Adrama was a lady, Pelien saw Addruran as inferior to her daughter. Shaking her head with pity for the young man, she closed the door.

As the latch clicked, Pelien rested her back against the heavy wood and sighed. The Lady had risen early to ensure her plans for the luncheon were in place. Everything was on schedule. Rummel, Pelien’s personal servant, was up before dawn preparing the food, and breakfast had been ready when Pelien had awakened and dressed.

Pelien’s feet padded softly on the hallway floor as she went once more to Adrama’s room. She knocked on the door while opening it and peering into her daughter’s chambers.

“Adrama, you will want to hurry. Some fresh berries and bread are still on the breakfast table for you.” Pelien remained in the doorway. “Your father and I have already eaten, and he left for duty an hour ago.”

“Yes, Mother,” Adrama answered in a tone that reflected her pleasant mood as she gazed out the window with her back to her mother. Without saying another word, Pelien backed out through the door and closed it firmly to let Adrama know she was gone.

The rest of the morning was a blur. Pelien kept an eagle’s eye on Rummel, making sure the woman’s work was perfect, and correcting it if it didn’t suit her. Vern had arrived two hours after first light and remained in the kitchen all morning. Pelien checked in with her every few minutes, and even though she trusted in Vern’s abilities, she was anxious that something might go wrong.

Fortunately, her worries were fruitless, and once everything was in place, Pelien finally entered her sitting room. This was her favorite room in the house. The lighting was soft, almost romantic, and sitting down in a straight-backed chair covered with a rich floral design in red and ivory, she sighed deeply.

The cook came into the room quietly to inform Pelien the food was ready. “Thank you,” Pelien said. “You may take a small break before the Ladies arrive, but do not go far.” With that, she dismissed Vern with a wave of her hand.

When she heard the noon bell ring throughout the city, Pelien heavily rose from the seat and walked slowly up to her room. She had one hour to touch up her appearance. Opening her armoire, she pulled out a simple maroon dress with tan accents and held it up as she faced her reflection. Very nice… she thought. After she quickly changed dresses, she unpinned her hair and pulled it back once more, ensuring every hair was in place. Finally, she was ready, now she had to be sure Adrama was...

Annalaliath

07-14-2003, 09:42 AM

The luncheon fast approaching she did not want to go. To quick escape this torture, she offered to do the trading for the day. She took along with the money that Ruiel had entrusted to her a bit of the money her mother sent her at times. She left the house, and walked down the streets.

On her way to the market, she watched the people and the houses. She thought of how alone she felt, before her service she had spent much of her time with her cousin Ross. He was not like most men. He was small and skinny, but little did many know that he was not one to anger. She laughed at the memories. The wondrous shouting fights. But he always told her that he felt he could always talk to her. She continued in these thoughts as she walked staring at the ground. Then as she was walking she noticed a woman at her door, watching someone leaving. She watched as she latched the door behind her.

Gwen then started walking again. She missed Ross dearly her family never understood the need that she had of his friendship. He was an outcast, someone that the family should disown; like her. These thoughts jumbled and tossed in her head, the pain of the years of rejection just straining to get out of the cage that she kept it locked tight insider her heart.

She walked on kicking loose stones in the street. She looked up and took the list of things that she needed out of the basket on her arm. Reading she saw that four and meat were the only perishables. Other than that she had to get fabric and thread. She knew were to find all of this. On her way she would stop for herself at the book seller. She would trade in this old book of hers for another one. She continued on. And suddenly she felt a great swell of hatred for Dryea and her mother. She also hated her family and the other people in this forsaken city. She hated Denther and his bride even more than the rest. But through these feelings the caution of being found to be what she was, to show her true colors in public was there. Not yet, do not show what you feel, don't say what you think, not yet.

[ July 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Elora

07-14-2003, 07:54 PM

Before the Luncheon

The buzz of busy tongues around her was more appetizing than the fare before her. Ruiel smiled gravely from time to time, as women turned to her to confirm what Dryea had started the day before.

"Yes, I have heard as much myself," she confessed worridley as though she loathed the spectacle of gossip.
"Is it true that you and your daughters spent some time in Dol Amroth?"

A younger, less schooled lady leaned forward with her question, her hair narrowly missing immersion in her tea as she did so. Ruiel fixed a reproachful stare upon the woman and only when the other's cheeks burned with embarrassment at her guiless and unsophisicated question did Ruiel set down her own delicate porcelin cup and answered.

"Yes, I have estates in Dol Amroth. They were established by my dear husband, shortly before his untimely death." Playing her role to the hilt with the innate instinct of a consumate actress, Ruiel placed a hand over her heart as if grief still tugged painfully within her breast. Her eyes lowered to the snowy white of the tablecloth before her as part of her performance. Around her, murmurs of condolence and blessing for his apparently beloved and departed soul ebbed like a tide. The young woman sat back, chastened by her apparant gaffe and the stiff glare of disapproval bestowed upon her by her chaperone.

Inwardly, Ruiel thanked the girl for the opportunity and fought against an ironic smile that here, in Minas Tirith, she was playing the role of grieving widow who had remained widow all the long years. Had those who lowered their heads respectfully that she had celebrated her years of freedome as fully as she had resented all the labourious years of marriage to a short-sighted and dimwitted imbecile.

"I knew Findulias as a young girl," Ruiel said when the mockery had gone on long enough and her smile threated to break through her mask of seemly grief. She picked up her tea cup and placed it against her lips, sipping the fragrant tea and studying the women seated around her across its rim.

"Was she beautiful then, Lady Ruiel?" Ah, another innocent to gild my way Ruiel turned to the child, seated next to an overly proud mother who smiled upon her daughter's banal and henceforth harmless question in relief that her daughter had not disgraced herself as the last young lady had.

Relief at the lightening of subject shimmered through the gathering of women. The red cheeks of the tactless lady became darker again. "Yes, even as a child, young Finduilas was so beautiful. So pure, she was, against all that lay in her family's past. So much darkness, and yet she shone undimmed and unsullied."

Ruiel added a nostalgic sigh for good effect and sipped at her cup as she waited for her words to sink in. The more astute, intelligent, or just plain viscious amongst them siezed her admittedly thin hook swiftly. Having finished her tea, Ruiel delicately dabbed at her lips with her lacy napkin and rose. She bestowed vacous blandishments upon upturned and sometimes expectant faces, gathered her skirts and began an unhurried and stately departure of the Dining Hall.

It came as no surprise that one woman in particular followed her. Ruiel amused herself by causing the woman to rush in order to catch her up within the hothouse confines of the Dining Hall. Such gossip was unthinkable in the halls of the Steward's House. Yet, they were insulated and united by their doubt and mistrust here in the Dining Room, and the absense of clod headed men who invariably interrupted such delights as gossip. It came as no surprise to Ruiel that the gossip was particularly vengeaful whilst the women were free of male interference. The most heady pleasure of rumour was hearing something that meant your advantange and your opponent's woe.

"Lady Ruiel, will you be attending the Luncheon today?" The woman that had rushed after her was somewhat short of breath. Ruiel turned in contrived surprise, delighting in the other's gasping. So desperate, she thought with distinct satisfaction.

"Indeed I shall," Ruiel replied with a kindly smile. "Perhaps we can converse further then." The other woman nodded, eyes bright with poorly concealed curiosity.
"Yes, yes... there was one thing further," she said as she drew conspiratorially closer to Ruiel.
"It will need to be brief. I have much to do prior to the Luncheon," Ruiel replied without a trace of a lie for a rare change.
"You mentioned darkness in Finduilas' past. Is that why she has changed her identity?"

Ruiel smiled at the woman as if she was a fool, and she was. Ruiel did not make allowances for the woman's inability to know just whom she huddled with now.
"Is there ever a happy reason to cast off one's heritage," she answered with another question that the woman siezed upon with rapturous delight.
"Indeed... but what heritage can be so dark," she said in open speculation. The fire was well and truly alight now.

"Hard to imagine, but then our ancestors could scarcely imagine the grief and suffering when Ar-Pharazon usurped the throne and declared war," Ruiel replied. She would never say that Finduilas was descended from such stock directly. Her face was marked with sadness at the history of Numenor, but she held the other woman's gaze with intense force. The other frowned at the historical reference to blindness at first. When Ruiel continued to stare at the woman, her expression cleared and dawning comprehension appeared like dawn in her face.

Already, she was leaping to conclusions at an alarming speed. A speed that would certainly trip even the Steward and have him sprawl upon his face in the aftermath.

"If you would excuse me, Madame," Ruiel gently reminded the other woman who was now lost in the murky depths of her supposition, fueled by manufactured lies. Artfully maufactured, Ruiel allowed herself to admit. She left the Dining Hall and traced her path back to the Guests Quarters where her temporary room was located in a high and bright mood.

Ränne was already busy, laying out undergarments suitable for the dress Ruiel would wear to Pelion's Luncheon. The other woman was familiar with Ruiel's long running competition with Lady Pelion. Pelion was a formidible opponent, even if Pelion herself only half knew the woman who opposed her. Beneath a facade of courtly pleasantries, beneath Ruiel's sarcastic rejoinders concerning Pelion, lay an deep and abiding respect. She would never underestimate Pelion, and Ränne knew she would perhaps give more thought to dressing for her Luncheon than she would a court appearance.

Ränne looked up as Ruiel entered and rushed a curtsy, still with her gown lain across her arms as if cradled.

"A fine day, Ränne. A fine day," Ruiel said simply. On the floor lay a finely made trunk into which Ränne had started to pack belongings not required for the luncheon. Ruiel noted it with satisfaction. She had made herself clear that morning that following the engagement at Pelion's, she wished herself, her daughters and their retinue to make a speedy departure. Ruiel was never comfortable with leaving her private manor in Minas Tirith unoccupied for too long - rather like a spider and her web.

She bombarded Ränne with questions as the other woman worked.

"Are Dryea and Alethea ready, Ränne? I have seen neither today and they had best not be lying idle. What of the other maids? I have not seen a scrap of their hides either? Consorting with guard rabble, no doubt."

Ränne replied with cautious and prompt, "Yes, m'Lady" or "No, m'Lady" as appropriate. High spirits could turn in any direction. Ruiel herself bent over the desk again, fitted the key to it and collected the papers. With care, she stowed them into a leather pouch. She located a key stored in her jewellry chest, secured the pouch and held it out to Ränne.

"I know I can rely on you to see these safely delivered," she said with a iron glance.
"Yes, m'Lady," Ränne replied gravely. Ruiel never entertained the risk that footpads would come across her work whilst they rifled through stolen baggage. It was an error she had seen others made. A footpad will turn informant if it gets him money, or unties the noose from around his neck, faster than a Corsair captian will snatch up a comely looking lass. That brought Ruiel's thoughts back to Ränne, who was presently standing behind her and tightening the laces of her corset.

"How is Findulias today, Ränne?" Ruiel felt her fingers still on the laces a moment and then resume their work.
"She is well, m'Lady. Feeling a little isolated and perhaps homesick," Ränne said, pausing intermittently to tie the laces where necessary.

"As well she might," Ruiel purred as she ran her hands over her corseted hips in satisfaction. She allowed her gown to be fastened around her, a russet silk that offset her deep auburn hair. Ränne brought the jewellry box to Ruiel.

"The rubies, I think," Ruiel said offhandedly and allowed the necklace to be fastened around her neck. She was preoccipied with a number of other matters now that her pleasure at events over breakfast had receded somewhat. As her hair was pinned into place with the last ruby tipped pin, Ränne stood back to study the effect. Ruiel was garbed in her habitual opulent luxury, an altogether intimidating picture of noble authority that she wore like armour.

Ruiel studied the effect in the mirror a moment, and added the final touch of her dagger as Ränne turned to resume packing.

"Arrange for our luggage to be returned to the Manor as soon as all is ready, Ränne. You know which porters to trust. Take the pouch yourself and see to it's protection lest you wish to meet the fate of your last master."

Ränne blanched a little, both at mention of the Captain and what Ruiel had done to him those years ago. She nodded and Ruiel allowed her to continue, satisfied that the woman would do as instructed. Ruiel stood at the window, mind rolling with other thoughts as Ränne folded skirts, bodices, underskirts all carefully so as not to crease.

"Findulias will start to feel more and more chilled, I imagine Ränne. That should work to your advantage well. The rumours are developing apace, and she will find need of a friendly face. You will be well placed to direct her accordingly, provided Dryea can be roused from wherever she has gotten off to in order to do her part!"

There was a snap in Ruiel's voice as she considered her daughter. Given her notable absence that morning, she would need to apprise Dryea and Alethea of developments in the rumour, an inconvenience at the least. Ränne looked up from where she knelt by the timber trunk.

"What rumours, m'Lady," she asked. Ruiel turned, smiling in open happiness.
"The rumour that Findulias is concealing her true identity because she is descended from Ar-Pharazon," Ruiel said with patent happiness. At such moments, she was animated and alive, a fierce hunger in her deep blue eyes that her dead husband had never seen.

Ränne looked stunned, and then saw Ruiel's cynical smile. She echoed it herself. Ruiel bestirred herself and gathered her russet skirts to walk Ränne in a whisper. "I will trust you to ensure my daughters are in attendance at the Luncheon Ränne. When the luggage is organised, come yourself. I want your eyes and ears there."

Ruiel reached the door as Ränne realised this was the second direct assignment that Ruiel had given her in as many days with pleasure and a frisson of excitment tangled with some apprehension.

"Oh, one more thing. Should Shir be seen anywhere near my daughters, either one mark you, inform me immediately!" By the time Ränne looked at where Ruiel had stood, Ruiel was out of the door and well on her way to Pelien's luncheon. Yet the unmistaken threat in her mistress' voice did not confirmation. Ränne shook her head at it and picked up the next skirt. How to help Dryea without defying Ruiel... it was a tight bind she had herself in.

So much to do... the packing, dressing the girls, finding trustworthy porters and attending the luncheon! Ränne closed the trunk at last, checked the room for anything missed and sped out of the door with pouch in hand to muster up the other maids and daughters. So much to do...

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-15-2003, 12:13 PM

The morning of Pelien's Luncheon

Tíriel rose early the next morning, throwing open the curtains on the tall windows in her sisters bedchamber. The light fell in a long golden rectangle across Síriel's sleeping face, making her look younger than she was, her dark eyelashes curled on her cheeks. Tíriel smiled at her, before throwing open the balcony doors and stepping out onto the small platform. The balcony overlooked a private garden, and Tíriel stood there a moment, watching the sunrise over the city before she returned inside.

Síriel's once peaceful face was now twisted with annoyance and she'd thrown one arm over her eyes. "Tír, the light... 's too early." she muttered with great irritation, before pulling the bedsheet up over her face and working her way back down into the covers.

"'Course not." Tíriel replied, matter of factly, yanking the covers down leaving Síriel sullenly laying on the bed, her shift worked up around her thighs and her dark hair straggling loose across the pillow. The scowl on her face perfected the picture of a spoiled little girl. Giggling fondly, Tíriel threw herself on top of her younger sister, tickling her until she squirmed. So hard she squirmed, that she slipped over the edge of the bed and sprawled on the floor. Tíriel peered over the edge of the matress, expecting to find her sister in a raging temper. But the face that greeted her was laughing, and Síriel's grey eyes sparkled with fun.

Picking herself up off the floor, she smoothed her rumpled shift and gave Tíriel a stern glance. "If we don't hurry up, missy, we certainly won't be ready in time for that luncheon." She moved haughtily to the wardrobe and flung open the doors.

Bounding up from the bed, Tíriel laughed, "You brat." Stalking idignantly, she went into the washroom and began brushing her long hair out.
*********************************

One gloved hand politely rapped at the door of Pelien and Sador's townhouse. Síriel stood back from the step as Tíriel of the perfect manners moved forward to greet their hostess. Following her lead, Tiriel stepped forward and kissed Pelien on the cheek, before following Tíriel into the parlor.

Pelien buzzed about the house importantly, tossing off lines of politely rehearsed small talk, while her daughter Adrama sat in the parlor beaming sunnily and looking positively gorgeous. Síriel was fond of the girl, but she thought more color would suit her better. She seemed to follow Tíriel's rule of wearing mostly creams and greys. The two in fact, were dressed much alike this morning, Adrama in cream and black, and Tír in pearly grey and black. Síriel flattered herself that not every complexion could pull off the deep gold of her gown. She had chosen the gown specially, as it was a color and cut that neither Finduilas or Lady Dryea would ever be able to wear. It never hurt to stay far ahead of the competition, she thought idly, as she sipped a first cup of tea and played idly with the beaded fringe on her purse.

maikafanawen

07-17-2003, 01:16 PM

Dryea finished her tea and placed the empty cup and saucer on the table as she stood.

“Well I’m not one to jump to conclusions,” she said, commenting on the Finduilas rumors Elena had brought up. “It’s been pleasant Elena, and I’ll see you later then at the luncheon?” The student nodded and bid Dryea a temporary farewell as she disappeared back into the house to prepare to return to the Morthaniawen Estate.

The morning had grown even more pleasant during her sit with Elena. The sunlight now shown in through the windows making an antique yellow pattern on the walls and tapestries that lined the corridors leading to her chambers. Dryea stopped in front of one tapestry particularly and examined it with a critical eye. The focus of the weaving was not that of a political hero, but of a war hero. A general it seemed of some sort, one often spoken of by Rhircyn though Dryea could not recall his name. Mounted on a war-horse in paralyzed prance, his sword rose above his head in mid-swing, he exaggerated the greatness of a past that was Gondor.

It was this tapestry that had triggered something of Dryea’s memory. It was of great similarity to a painting that had once hung in her own home, or that of her mother’s late husband, in Umbar. The portrait there was of a sea captain in the likeness of her grandfather. He was not atop a war-horse but clinging to the shrouds of the foremast of his ship; his auburn hair and captain’s coat billowing behind him in the ocean wind.

It was the only sentimental item of her grandfather’s things Dryea owned. It was now rolled up carefully in a cylinder container, hidden in one of the many secret storage rooms in her estate. Her Estate!

Goodness! She had spent so much time thinking on the portrait and gazing at the tapestry that she had lapsed in memory of her original objective. Picking up her skirts she hurried the rest of the way to her room. When she got there Rheaite had already gotten her trunk out and lined it with sandalwood-rose paper to keep the dresses and things fresh smelling.

“Oh thank you Rhe, I had completely forgotten!” Rushing to her desk, she began to distinguish the ornaments and cosmetics that were hers from those of the steward’s that belonged in the guestroom. Soon all her smaller possessions, including her perfume, jewelry, brush and hand mirror, were stowed away into the bottom drawer of her trunk and Rhe began to place her clothing into the top and largest part.

“Are you going to change for the luncheon Lady?” she asked, placing a thing piece of fabric paper over the rose coloured dress she had just placed in the trunk.

“Oh, um,” Dryea stepped back from her vanity and turned to look into the full-length mirror by her closet. “Do you think I should?” Rhe hesitated. She didn’t like answering questions that asked for her opinion, afraid that she would be offensive.

“I do not see reason to change,” she said gently. “But if you feel as though difference would do you well then do as you wish.” Dryea smiled.

“Good answer. Were I to change, what color do you think would best suit me this fine day?” The corners of Rhe’s mouth turned up, a good honest question if answered innocently.

“Well, perhaps a pale dress of lavender or green. Yes green would set of your beautiful hair. Ooh, and yours has miniature blue flowers on the trimming, perfect for your eyes!” Dryea beamed.

“Should I keep out the sapphire necklace then?” Rhe nodded, placing the dress tenderly on the bed along with the gloves, fan, and delicate hair ornaments. It was at this happy moment that Ruiel had decided to call on her daughter. When she entered dressed in her brunette finery, she evaluated her eldest daughter’s progress.

“I am nearly through with my loading up,” began Dryea stiffly, immediately kicking herself for continuing her habit of stating the obvious when with her mother. Only Ruiel had the uncanny ability to make Dryea look a fool.

“I see that,” Lady Morthaniawen pointed out. “I trust then, you have not forgotten about the luncheon with Lady Pelien and her daughter?”

“No I haven’t.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence in which the only sounds were the ruffling of silks and lace as Rhe continued to pack things into Dryea’s trunk. Ruiel continued to stand still looking both regal and wise, though deceptively relaxed and innocuous. It was satisfying to Dryea to know that her mother was truly preoccupied with their intention and the means in which to fulfill it now that Finduilas was here to intercept their goal. She half-heartedly wished that her mother was gentler, someone to whom she could confide in instead of obey and respond to as though she was a commanding officer.

“Well I still have to check up on your sister then meet back in my temporary room before we leave for Pelien’s. It would be prudent that we arrive together.” With that she left the room, leaving Dryea to furrow her brow and wish there was a way to break through her mother’s stone durable personality. The fact is there wasn’t, and she would have to convert her own personality in order to please her mother so that she would accept her daughter as an equal. Only then could they achieve their goal.

A soft double clicking sound came from where Rheaite stood over the trunk at the foot of the bed and Dryea turned to see her checking the locks and that all was secure inside the luggage.

“It’s finished Lady. Shall I call a footman up to carry it down to the carriage?”

“No,” answered Dryea slightly. “I don’t want it out of my room for so long. Locks can be broken.” Rheaite did not need to ask about the reason for Dryea’s concern for she knew of the items stashed in the secret level just above her small possessions and under her dresses. If this compartment was found out, which was highly unlikely anyhow, and the Corsair memorabilia along with the many potion recipes discovered, the identity of the simple Dol Amroth noblewoman would be uncovered. “Once the luncheon is over, and we are ready to leave, I shall over see that my trunk is taken care of. Those however,” she pointed to the two boxes by the door. One contained two bottles of her favorite type of sherry and the other a present from Rhir meant for her cat whom she had left at the manor. “Those you can take down to the carriage. They are not trivial belongings. Thank you Rhe.” The maid nodded and took the handles of each box firmly in hand, and exited the room.

All this done, Dryea checked that she had everything she would need until she had access to her belongings again. The lady placed the key to her trunk in the small pocket that was cleverly hidden inside her bodice along with the key to her room and those necessary to access all the little crannies of her own home: six keys in all. Privacy was very important in her case.

A second, unexpected knock came at the door. Dryea started and thought quickly of who it could be. Unable to guess she told the caller to enter.

“I dare not Lady. It is disreputable for a man to be in a single woman’s chamber.” It was Rhir. Excited, she ran to the door and threw it open.

“I was wondering if you’d show!” she exclaimed. The man smiled, his handsome face alight.

“My that dress is becoming of you Dryea.” He stepped back so as to get a complete view of her new ensemble. “Simply stunning.”

“Oh thank you,” she said naively. “You won’t come in then? I’ve got to be gone soon anyhow, it won’t be long...” Rhir smiled mysteriously.

“If it’s not too long.” Dryea beamed triumphantly and moved to the window table where the original decanter of dormant wine stood with four beakers. One she filled and handed to Rhir who thanked her politely.

“Where is it that you are going so soon?” he asked, taking a cozy seat beside her on the settee. Dryea leaned into the cushion, wishing as Rhir sat beside her there wasn’t somewhere for her to be.

“Just a small lady’s lunch,” she sighed. Rhir shifted the glass from his left to right hand, encircling her shoulders with his free arm.

“Anything cancelable?” he asked hopefully. Dryea leaned into the crook of his arm.

“I wish,” she purred. Then, regaining her composure somewhat suddenly, she stood and patted her hair with her fingertips. “But no, no it’s very important I go. You know how it is.” Rhir laughed faintly.

“I don’t know, but if you can’t you can’t,” he stood, placing his half drunk glass back in its place, smoothing out his jacket. “I’ll see you later then?” He brushed a fashionably loose curl out of her face and kissed her farewell. She walked with him to the door and watched painfully as he retreated down the hall.

When he was out of sight, she sighed contemptuously and returned to her bed, putting on the gloves and clasping the fan to her skirt so that it hung, almost hidden in one of the folds. Then from within her bodice she retrieved the key and locked her guest chamber door firmly behind her. Turning gracefully and slipping the skeleton key back in its place as she did so, she made towards her mother’s room to wait until it was time for the luncheon to begin.

Ealasaid

07-17-2003, 01:18 PM

As Averyll returned from her morning walk, she felt more tired and perplexed than refreshed. The things the baker had said bothered her. She needed to find out for herself if other people were indeed passing foul rumors about Lady Finduilas, or if the baker was just an old windbag. Judging by his air of confidence, she had her doubts. On her way back through the streets, she took several detours through other shops, pretending to browse, but listening carefully for any talk of the party the night before or of Finduilas. What she heard made her hurry in search of Finduilas' other ladies when she got back to her rooms. She found Eleniel and Vieana outside on one of the terraces that overlooked the white city.

"There you are!" exclaimed Veiana as Averyll hurried to where the other two ladies waited. "We were beginning to think you had hopped a ship back to Dol Amroth!"

Averyll smiled. "Me? Never!" But she winked at them both. They knew how much she missed her home city and her toddler son that she had been compelled to leave behind.

As she drew nearer to them, both Elen and Vieana edged in close. Vieana tilted her head in the direction of the guards who stood on post at either end of the terrace.

"Have you noticed anything odd about the guards?" she asked Averyll.

Trying to be subtle, Averyll glanced in their direction. Absorbed in her own set of questions, she had not paid much attention to the guards. "Like what?"

"Like the way they have been acting toward the Minas Tirith guards."

She shook her head. "How have they been acting?"

"Cold. Like they don't trust one another. It's very strange." Vieana frowned. "My husband has always spoken well of Minas Tirth's guards."

Averyll looked again, but the guards seemed fine at the moment. Of course, there were no Minas Tirith guards on the terrace at the moment, so, why wouldn't they? She decided to watch them in the future, to see what Vieana referred to for herself. It was decidedly odd.

"How strange!" she said finally. "I'll pay closer attention in the future. But listen to this!" She bent even closer to Elen and Vieana, dropping her voice to whisper. "Someone has started a rumor about Finduilas. Outside the residence, they are saying that she is an imposter."

Both of the other ladies, stepped back in surprise. "An imposter!" exclaimed Elen. "What do you mean?"

"They say she is not even from Dol Amroth."

"Well, where would she be from if not from there?"

Averyll shrugged. "I don't know. Should we tell Finduilas? Or Tessa? The whole thing seems malicious to me. I don't know quite what to think."

Elora

07-17-2003, 06:55 PM

Pelien's Luncheon

Dryea's appearance signalled the end to Ruiel's inclination towards stiff patience. She watched her daughter enter, flawlessly elegant and beautiful and nodded slowly in approval.

"Fairest jewel in all of Arda, as should be," she admitted, noting the flush of her daughter's cheeks. "Of course, had you observed the courtesy of punctuality, you would not have needed to run like an unruly child in order to meet me," she finished. Dryea shook her head, protesting her innocence. "But I did not run, mother!"

Indeed, Ruiel inwardly said as another thought shot through like swift lightening. Surely that young callow fool had not intruded here, right under her nose!

"Then perhaps after this luncheon of Pelien's it is best you rest somewhat. Becoming as a peaked appearance is on you, Dryea, I will not have an unseasonable chill rendering you bedridden at this important time." Ruiel turned to collect her intricate stole of beaded lace, autumn colours in the beads firing in the bright mid-morning light as she wrapped it around her shoulders. She missed the strange mixture of relief, bitter disappointment and even pain in her daughter's face as she realised what truly concerned her mother was not the health of her daughter. By the time Ruiel had her stole in place, Dryea had schooled her features into a more acceptable serenity.

"I cannot wait for your younger sister any longer. Ranne will see that Alethea gets herself to the luncheon, or both will regret it," Ruiel said with clear impatience. Dryea nodded and offered an obedient "Yes, Mother," as she inwardly pleased for Alethea to appear as immediately as she may, perhaps even 5 minutes ago if she could contrive it.

Together, mother and daughter swept out into the halls and made their way to Pelion's apartments. Their fans were languidly waving before their faces, concealing their lips as they spoke guardedly.

"You are aware that the rumours have grown apace," Ruiel stated demurrly, pointing out a porcelain vase that stood proudly on display upon a marble plinth.
"Yes, mother," Dryea confirmed, nodding her appreciate of the vase's elegant sophisication in it curved design.
"Ranne is well placed in close proximity to the bride," Ruiel continued as the nodded at whatever new purloined artwork appeared next. Ironically, it was a piece of work from Umbar, proudly flouted for all Gondorian nobles to see. Anger flashed through Ruiel that she tightly wound back into place. She needed her wits to deal with Pelien, and hot anger ill served for this.

"Is that wise," Dryea asked with surprising directness.
"It was not my doing, but most fortuitous daughter," Ruiel firmly replied. Pelien's apartments were very near. "You know what we must do here," Ruiel added. It was a difficult line to walk. They must appear as accessible and safe to Finduilias as she became further alienated in her new court. They must befriend those nobles from Dol Amroth to further embed their assumed identities. Certainly that was progressing well for many remembered Morthaniawen from the long years spent in Dol Amroth still. A opportunity to be taken advantage of. A wary eye must be kept on Gondor too. Minas Tirith must never suspect Morthaniawen was other than the ally it had thus far come to believe was so.

Only ensconsed in the bosoms of the competing factions could they remain aware of the shifting tides of opinion and politics. To play them off, fracturing Gondor from within, that was their game. The Steward overthrown and his nobles in disarray, civil strife, a country weakened from within. It was no easy task to fight this war within the confines of civilised court where subtle battle was given at luncheons and feasts.

The doors to Pelien's apartments were thrown back as they arrived. Dryea and Ruiel entered with graceful smiles of warmth, dazzling in their refined opulence. Once again, it was with a keen eye that Ruiel studied who had arrived. Pelien's guests would tell her much, and those omitted or absent more. Ranne had best find Alethea and attend herself soon, lest valuable information be lost to tardy dawdling.

"Lady Pelien," Ruiel purred in stark contrast to her inner thoughts, "what a pleasant function you have arranged here. Quite stylish, as ever. You have met my daughter, Dryea, I hope."

Dryea smiled with innocent charm, luminous amongst those gathered, as she curtsied for Pelien.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

Durelin

07-17-2003, 06:57 PM

Before the Luncheon

"May I escort the lovely Lady Vernathitia to the luncheon this afternoon?"

The sudden voice behind her as she put the finishing touches on a bueatiful strawberry treacle made Vern jump, ruining the flowering effect she was attempting with the cream. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was, so she began to yell even before she looked sadly down at the blob of cream on treacle before her. "Rhodry! You little bloodboil! What were you doing sneaking up on me!?"

The young man with reddish blonde hair in front of her rose from a neat bow, wearing a very mischievious grin, one that almost always played around his mildly handsome face. He would have been quite normal looking without that smile, but with it...Vern had to admit, he was very attractive. It was no wonder why he wore it so often; it did have an effect on many women. But now, as he stared into Vern's red face, it had no effect at all...which made him grin all the more.

"Why Lady Vernathitia! I knew you had such excellent hearing, as all fair Ladies do, and doubted that I would catch you unawares. I am greatly surprised, I must say!" He paused a moment to adorn a very fake agitated look on his face. "It must be this confounded kitchen. All these pesky servants running about as loud as can be." He gave a small tsking noise, and actually managed to keep a straight face. Vern would've found it amusing if he had not ruined her treacle. Excellent hearing like all fair Ladies? What in the name of Illuvatar...? The man actually opened his mouth to continue, but before he could continue, Vern cut him off with enraged yells.

"Stop your brainless chattering, you woolheaded domnoddy! And put this on!" She threw an apron at him, hitting him hard in that handsome grinning face. She had no idea why she had brought him along... Well, actually she did. He was, unbelievably, an excellent help in picking up gossip. Well, Rhodry had a way with people, making them feel at ease...unfortunately for them...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

During the Luncheon

Needless to say, Vern had Rhodry pinned in the kitchen, and she oversaw the serving, taking part herself. What was done right was what was done yourself. Well, that, and she was quite interested in what this "luncheon" could mean. The timing was all too convenient. Vern was just glad she was invited to cook; perhaps Emilia had mentioned to Pelien about Vern's resourcefulness. Yes, she could be quite resourceful, though it had taken enough time for these high and noble Ladies to realize, that, she thought sourly. She could hear the excited talk from the other room, anouncing the arrivals of various Ladies. They all seemed so cheery; Vern knew something was up...and she doubted this was to be at all a plaesant gathering.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

elven maiden Earwen

07-17-2003, 07:54 PM

"They say she is not even from Dol Amroth." Averyll said.

"Well, where would she be from if not from there?"

"I don't know. Should we tell Finduilas? Or Tessa? The whole thing seems malicious to me. I don't know quite what to think."

Not from Dol Amroth! Of course she was from Dol Amroth. Who would say that she wasn’t, Elen thought as she listened intently of what Averyll spoke. First the Dol Amroth Guards were acting strange, now whispers of Finduilas not being from Do Amroth.

“What is going on in Gondor!” she exclaimed. “Of everything I have read about Gondor, it always said that the people of the cities were so kind. Even to outsiders like us! They certainly aren’t living up to reputation.” The other two girls nodded in agreement.

What should they do about it? To tell Finduilas, it might shatter her confidence, and Tessa may tell Finduilas if we tell her. But if they didn’t, Finduilas might find out for herself.

“What should we do?” Vienna said.

“Lets not tell Finduilas or Tessa yet, but let’s not keep it a secret forever”. Eleniel said. She worried what would happen if Finduilas found out.

“On the subject of Finduilas, do you by any chance no where she is?” Vienna said.

Everdawn

07-18-2003, 01:07 AM

"Well if we can't find her" spoke Vieana "we should at least eat, I know I am at least not prepared to starve for the princess of Dol Amroth becuase she takes it in her liberty to be late for meeting us; however she may have a perfectly good reason, but at the same time I have never been so hungry in all my life. So hungry in fact I have been light headed all morning."

"Very true" said Averyll taking up stride beside her and Elen who followed remarked, "And, Dardanir never mentioned any stress in the Minas Tirith guards? I find that strange."

"Never" remarked Vieana. "My husband has always spoke highly of them, as I said before. Perhaps I should write to him and get him here, I'm sure he could explain a lot of what is going on."

"Would that be wise at this point in time? He has to ask his father the General for permission to come here, and if he were to say something to his father it may put a stick on relations." said Averyll.

"Well, who can we tell? Aomething is off. Perhaps the guards know about the lies that have spread. Untrue of course. Ive known her all my life! And my father has always known the prince, as greedy as my father is, he still keeps up appearances," frowned Vieana.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

maikafanawen

07-18-2003, 09:20 AM

Pelion’s apartments were furnished stylishly with two sets of pale rose settees and magnificent drapes that reached the floor, coloured to offset the floral patterns in the furniture. A small table stood under each of the three large windows on which stood an elegant jar with two-dozen season flowers. It was not unlike the Morthaniawen parlor at the estate and Dryea found it easy to adjust to.

Upon entering she saw that Tiriel and Siriel had already arrived. Dryea had been disappointed early on that she was not able to form a close relationship with either like she had with some of the younger nobles. The reason for this evasion was seemingly clear in Dryea’s opinion: as daughters of the steward, they obviously saw themselves superior, therefore affectedly choosing their friends. Her mother had said this wasn’t entirely so but Dryea didn’t see any other rationale why not.

Though no one else had noticed, a faint, pleasing smile had crept onto Dryea’s face as she saw Siriel’s choice of gown: gold, very much like the gown Dryea had worn this morning though perhaps a slightly lighter shade. It was unwise in the lady’s opinion to be too outspoken so early after a ball. It would give people the wrong impression that one was trying to regain some of the attention one had lost the night before. However, Dryea had to admit at least silently to herself that Siriel did look particularly stunning this morning.

Now that she thought more clearly about it, Dryea wondered if Siriel and hers very slight animosity was known widely. She hoped not. Perhaps this luncheon would be a good time to make amends.

Dryea sat beside her mother silently at first until conversation was directed towards her. Then she would reply sociably instead of the stiff politeness usually employed by other noblewoman. The women gathered here were not strangers and once all had arrived, Dryea was sure that the tête-à-tête would be comfortable and personal feelings about the situation most eager to be discussed would be shared.

alaklondewen

07-18-2003, 11:41 AM

Pelien's Luncheon

Pelien was positioned in her high-backed chair, so that the other Ladies were seated on either side of her on the matching floral sofas. If they had been sitting at a long table, Pelien would have been at the head, just as she preferred. The women chatted about general happenings and the weather, however, they all knew what conversation was to come, and Pelien was only waiting for the others to arrive before bringing up Finduilas.

Rummel brought a large silver tray with tea and set it on the long, oval table that sat between the sofas. A small rose pattern crept along the rim of each cup and the tall, slender teapot. As she began to lift the delicate pot, Pelien touched the servant’s arm and motioned for her to leave it. Keeping her eyes lowered in respect, Rummel curtsied and returned to the kitchen.

“I do hope you will have some tea,” Pelien charmingly smiled at the other women as she poured the steaming liquid into six cups. After being thanked by each Lady, Pelien turned to the Lady Morthaniawen, “Your youngest daughter, will she be accompanying us today? I thought she and Adrama might have some common interests. Right, Adrama?” Her daughter looked startled for a moment as she was put on the spot, but she nodded with a small smile before looking down at her hands. In reality, Pelien cared little for Lady Ruiel’s youngest daughter. The girl was weak, not having the same air of dignity seen in Ruiel and Dryea, but of course Pelien would never vocalize her opinion to the Lady.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Ealasaid

07-18-2003, 03:02 PM

"Well, who can we tell something is off?" asked Vieana. "Perhaps the guards know about lies that have spread. Untrue, of course. I've known her all my life! And my father has always known the prince, as greedy as my father is, he still keeps up appearances." Vieana frowned.

Averyll nodded. "Of course, it's a lie!" she agreed. "We know that, but I think we need to make sure that such lies don't harm Finduilas, or get in the way of the wedding. After all --" she gave Eleniel and Vieana each a solemn look "-- that is part of the reason we are here."

"It's clear we have to do something," she added. A short period of silence passed as the three ladies made their way through the halls toward the dining room, each of them thinking hard.

"I still don't think we should upset Tessa or Finduilas just yet," Elen broke the silence.

"No," Averyll agreed. "You are right. We should probably just keep it to ourselves for the moment. In the meantime, I think it would be wise if we could do a little sleuthing about to see if we can find out where such nonsense is coming from."

"See if we can get to the bottom of it!" rejoined Vieana. "I agree. Imagine! The nerve of these people to say such things..."

"Right."

"How shall we do it, then?"

Averyll paused just outside of the dining room doors, stopping her companions with a gesture. "We must be careful. We must be subtle. We must listen to what the others are saying and ask questions, lead them to tell us more... perhaps even pretend to believe them..."

"Believe them?" Elen objected. "Oh, Averyll, don't be ridiculous. They are probably saying the same sort of thing about us! How can we pretend to believe them when we arrived with Finduilas, and we, at least Vieana and I, have known Finduilas for years!"

"Okay," Averyll smiled. "Maybe that wouldn't be so clever, but you see what I am getting at, don't you? Listen to the gossipers. Talk to them. Lead them to say more and more. It's the only way we can discover where the rumors came from."

Vieana frowned. "That's all fine and good, but we mustn't ever lead anyone to think the rumors are true." She crossed her arms. "As Finduilas' ladies, it's our job to argue the truth, to let everyone know how false those rumors are, and as soon as possible, before they can cause any real damage."

"Too true," rejoined Elen. "So, what do we do? Try to find out who started the rumors, as Averyll suggests? Or just quash them as we encounter them."

The three ladies looked at each other from face to face. Finally, Vieana sighed. "Do we have to decide right this second? There's a lovely luncheon waiting just inside those doors. I can think much more clearly on a full stomach. What do you say we eat first, then make up our plan?"

Averyll laughed. "I'm for eating. Elen?"

"Me, too!" With that, the three of them entered the dining room, where a splendid array of food had already been laid out for the ladies of Dol Amroth.

Elora

07-19-2003, 11:55 PM

Ruiel smiled at Pelien's daughter, noting the somewhat startled expression on the girl's face with some satisfaction as Pelien pointed out the obvious dawdling of Alethea. Irritation bubbled within her as she accepted a delicate cup of tea, again the bland varietyv favoured by the weaker consitutions of Gondorian nobles.

"Indeed, Alethea shall be joining us today. She is delayed by her intent to find the gown perfectly suited for your luncheon. I am sure she will be here, presently.

"Tell me, how is Sador doing? All this sudden flurry of formalities at court must have set him upon his ear, in a manner of speaking."

Ruiel sipped politely at her cup as she waited for her jibe to settle in Pelien's craw. Sador notoriously detested the frippery of court life, unable to see it's merit like most men. Her tone was of a fellow woman who knew only too well what a trial such men can be, indeed all men for that matter. Pelien, however, knew she herself had raised absences. It was only a matter of time before Ruiel siezed on Findulias' absence and commented on that.

"I see the Steward's daughters have graced us with their presence also," Ruiel murmured as she looked the room over. Dryea sent them a stiff glance that contrasted sharply with her earlier triumphant glow. "I daresay your luncheon will be quiet a pleasant diversion from the frantic whirlwind of state marriages that the poor girls must be enveloped in."

"I do hope they'll join us," Dryea managed to add without needing prompting. Ruiel and Pelien smiled in agreement and a tray of whimiscal sweet petite-fours swept past.

"Oh Pelien, you have proved the skill of your kitchens once again! How these escaped Sador I do not know. It is a shame Finduilas is not yet here to sample your fine fare, for these will not last long."

Ruiel smiled pleasantly and sipped at her tea, wishing never more than now for a cup of rich, strong Umbarian coffee instead of the pale watery concoction that was everywhere one turned in the Citadel. Pelien was deciding whether she would respond to Ruiel's comments, and if so how as Ruiel looked at the door in the hopes of Alethea appearing with Ranne. Conversation swirled around her, the snatches that she could catch demanded more than one set of ears.

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-20-2003, 12:21 PM

Before the Luncheon

As Meirelle left Alethea's room, she made her way to Dryea's room to tidy it up. After knocking on the door and receiving no answer, Meirelle entered the room. She heaved a sigh of relief, seeing that it was barely messy. She made the bed and straightened the gowns in her closet. Then, seeing that her work was done, Meirelle left Dryea's room and made her way towards the kitchen.

When she got there, she hadn't taken one step towards the plates of food awaiting serving when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

"You, girl! These dishes need washing and they need it now! Go to it!"

The voice was, of course, Vern's, and because this was her kitchen it was her rules. Meirelle obliged meekly and set to work. As she scrubbed a pot covered in some sort of brown sauce, she sighed and thought, What a lovely way to spend my morning. When she was done these dishes, Meirelle was determined to get out of the kitchen and, if the luncheon was over, receive instructions from the Lady Dryea.

Lyra Greenleaf

07-20-2003, 01:37 PM

Emilia prepared carefully for the luncheon held by Adrama's mother. She knew that it would be important, surely the rumours about Finduilas had been spreading like wildfire through the night and morning. Her eyes sparkled at the thought as she surveyed herself in the mirror.

A pleasant enough sight, she thought dispassionately as she twisted around to see as much of her gown as possible. A deep red, it set off the auburn lights in her long dark hair, which she had brushed to a burnished sheen. It would do, for a luncheon to which no men had been invited. She sighed vexedly at the thought.
My Lady Pelien would be holding parties full of young men if she had any regard for her daughter's marriage.

A slow smile spread across her face as she picked up her shawl, ready to leave. Adrama.
What kind of a mood will she be in? Emilia wondered. Joyful at the rumours? Upset that her true love is denied to her? I hope it will be the latter. She would be far easier to control while unhappy.

***********

As she entered the rooms, Emilia studied the faces that were already there. Lady Pelien and Adrama, Lady Ruiel. Various other ladies of the court. The steward's daughters, of course- using their positions to the most of their ability. Emilia's lip curled in derision. And, looking surprisingly meek, Dryea. With a friendly greeting Emilia joined her friend.

"So" she began eagerly "has there been any developments?"
She glanced around the room.
"Does everyone know of the doubts regarding the Lady Finduilas?"
"We shall see, no doubt" answered Dryea, returning her smile.
Emilia was satisfied. Everything was proceeding. The excitement was just begininng!

elven maiden Earwen

07-21-2003, 11:40 AM

“Me too” Elen said joining the two girls as they walked into the dinning room. The walked to a table and sat down. The assortment of food was amazing. They had everything from meat to vegetables and fruits. There were many different varieties of wine to choose from to. Eleniel was starving and she quickly ate many different kinds of fruits from grapes and apples to strawberries. Everything was delicious.

“Look there is Finduilas and Tessa!” Vienna exclaimed looking up. And just like she said Finduilas and Tessa had entered looking quite lovely. Finduilas was wearing a beautiful ivory dress. On the décolletage an intricate design of birds and flowers had been sewn. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and tied around it was an ivory ribbon.

Tessa on the other hand was wearing a pale yellow dress. On the hem of the skirt in silver thread there was a design in the likeliness of the sun. Her hair was kept down.

“Finduilas! Tessa! Where have you two been all morning?” Averyll exclaimed looking up at the two women that now stood at their table.

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

*Varda*

07-21-2003, 02:13 PM

The talk grew louder in the room as the ladies of Minas Tirith debated Finduilas’ identity. Slowly, the doubt was cast from their minds as everyone added their own opinion to the fray – Finduilas, in the eyes of the court, was an imposter. The only question now, was what to do about it.

Patting her hair as she walked through the room, Elena moved closer to Dryea and Emilia. The two of them turned to greet her, as Elena put the fragile cup of tea she carried on a nearby table.

“Tell me, have we heard of anything new regarding the lady Finduilas? I feel certain everyone in the room must have heard, and have their own opinion on it by now.” Elena smiled, knowing full well how much some of the mothers disliked Finduilas for becoming betrothed to Denethor in the first place – this was adding insult to injury, if she was not who she seemed to be.

“Not that I have heard,” Emilia answered her question. “I wonder if the Steward and his son suspect anything?”

“Doubtful!” Elena laughed. “The men would not have heard any rumours - and if they do, it goes in one ear and out the other! What I want to know, is if she isn’t really who she says she is…who is she? Surely these rumours must have come from somewhere, and for some reason – someone must know something about her past.”

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-21-2003, 06:29 PM

Pelien's Luncheon

Meirelle shoved the last plate into the dishrack and sighed in relief. Finally, she was finished the load. Deciding to take a break from the kitchen, Meirelle headed to Alethea's room to straighten it up, figuring she was at the luncheon already. She opened the door and stepped into the room. As she turned her back to close it, Meirelle heard a voice behind her say, "Meirelle!" She jumped and whirled around, only to see that it was Alethea, looking at her questioningly.

Meirelle put her hand upon her breast as if to steady her rapidly-beating heart and said, "Miss Mor-Alethea! Shouldn't you be at Miss Pelien's luncheon now?"

Alethea replied with, "Well...yes, but I am still getting ready. I have to look my best, you know." Meirelle surveyed Alethea, who looked stunning in her simple cream gown and black sash around her waist. "Miss Alethea, you look beautiful! You really must hurry to the luncheon now!" Meirelle took her by the arm and started to hurry her out of the room. "Your mother and sister must be worrying and wondering where you are!"

Alethea pulled back and began protesting. "But...but...I must do something with my hair!"

Meirelle looked at her and said, "It looks lovely down. Really, Miss Alethea, you must hurry!"

Alethea allowed herself to be rushed out of her room towards the luncheon. As they walked briskly along, Meirelle chattered about her duties and the morning's happenings. When they finally reached the doors to the luncheon, Alethea took a deep breath. Meirelle checked over her gown and hair, to make sure it was all still perfect. When she finished, she gave Alethea a big smile and said, "Go on in, Miss Alethea. They are all waiting for you, and wondering where you are!"

Alethea stepped inside and Meirelle shut the doors behind her. Then she went back to Alethea's room and began to clean it up as she had first intended to do.

Estelyn Telcontar

07-22-2003, 03:19 AM

Diorwyn sat at the window of her room, making use of the daylight to continue the intricate embroidery on Finduilas’ wedding gown. On the table beside her stood various small boxes with the pearls and crystals which were to adorn the neckline. Usually she enjoyed the feeling of the luxurious fabric and the sheen and sparkle of the precious stones, but today her heart was not in her work. She was troubled by the rumours she had heard and wondered what their source and purpose could be.

Though she was not familiar with the court of Minas Tirith and the relationships of the noble families with each other, she knew enough about women and their ambitions to suspect what was happening. It would have been strange indeed had there been no jealousy involved in the marriage of the White City’s most eligible bachelor to a beautiful yet foreign princess.

But what could she do? No one at the Citadel would listen to the words of a seamstress, not even one whose skills they sought. Suddenly the words her father had often spoken occurred to her: Fight fire with fire. Of course! The best way to counter rumours was by starting opposite rumours. Yet who should be the target of those? She resolved to listen to the maids’ gossip at the evening meal, then seek out Gwinniel afterwards. No doubt she would have found out something in the meantime.

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Arien

07-22-2003, 05:00 AM

Pelien's Luncheon

Alethea allowed herself to be lead to the luncheon. In truth she did not really want to go, she had tried to stall by saying something about her hair, but Meirelle had insisted and Alethea felt too tired to fight. So reluctantly she was now being led towards the door of Pelien’s. The two halted outside and Meirelle checked over Alethea’s hair and clothes. Alethea gave a exasperated look but Mieirelle missed it while combing althea’s hair down with her right hand.

Meirelle stepped back and beamed at her, and Alethea gave a little smile. She really did not feel like going today, she would have rather gone home and done something productive with her day instead of gossiping, but their job must bee done. So after a few words of encouragement from Meirelle, Alethea opened the door and found the room where the luncheon was taking place. All eyes turned to her as she stepped into the room.

“Ah my sister has finally decided to arrive!” exclaimed Dryea, a little laughter followed. “Too busy getting ready I suspect.” Alethea gave a sarcastic smile to her sister and Alethea sat herself down next to her mother and muttered under her breath, “Yes something like that.”

“Alethea, I am glad you graced us with your presence… I was getting worried that you had forgotten.” her mother said, then taking a sip of tea.

“Oh no, I was just…..well as Dryea so accurately put it I was getting ready.” she smiled to her mother who was fully aware that Alethea was being sarcastic. She raised and eyebrow and placed her cup on the table. Alethea face burned and suddenly felt ashamed, her mother seemed annoyed with her. Her eyes looked into her mothers apologetically. Ruiel nodded and then turned to Pelien.

“This is Alethea, my youngest daughter,” she smiled at the host politely.

“Alethea,” Pelien said and then pointed to a girl who was near, “ Alethea I am sure you know my daughter Adrama.”

“Yes, I have seen her, but never had the pleasure of speaking to her.” Alethea’s sarcastic tone of voice floated over the air but the only ones who seemed to noticed were Dryea and Ruiel. Pelien was blissfully unaware and smiled courteously back. Alethea could see it was an act. It was obvious to her that Pelien did not think much of her and thought more highly of her mother and sister. Well it was her loss, people were not always what they seemed, Alethea knew that. It did not bother her that much, though she dreaded the thought of having to talk to Adrama if she was anything like her mother.

“Well we will let you two get to know each other…”Pelien motioned for Alethea to join her daughter, so she did reluctantly. She sat down next to the girl who ignored her, she seemed to Alethea to be ignorant, not wanting to talk which Alethea did not mind. But under the critical eyes of their mothers the needed to at least greet each other. Alethea turned to her and prepared to make the first move.

“I’m Alethea, don’t worry I already know who you are, Adrama, you mother told me. The two of them have gotten the idea in their heads that we may have something in common..”

“Really…how interesting,” she said carelessly. “Well I doubt that.”

“So do I, but if we are to survive their nagging after this little gathering then I advise we at least look like we are getting acquainted.” Alethea smiled, she liked this girl she acted much like herself, maybe they did have something in common.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

alaklondewen

07-22-2003, 08:27 AM

Nuru's post for Adrama at Pelien's Luncheon

Adrama cast her eye appraisingly on Alethea, doubtfully watching the confident, innocent face that returned her gaze. She squirmed a little in her chair, wondering why those friendly-looking green eyes made her so uncomfortable. However, she refrained from showing her feelings; rather, she assumed a confident air as well, and even ventured so far as to give the slight impression that she was looking down at Alethea. Whether it came across to Alethea in that manner or not, Adrama herself felt reassured with the feeling of superiority.

Alethea looked roughly the same age as Adrama herself, and her manner of speech, not to mention her personality, seemed to go along well with the personality of Pelien's daughter. Perhaps they could be friends. Adrama had learned, however, that with many people at Minas Tirith, manner and personality were not always everything. It would be well to make a good impression on Alethea by behaving at her best and making sure her appearance was satisfactory. She ran her hands along her lap, smoothing her skirt out.

"What is your opinion of Finduilas?" Alethea asked, and Adrama stifled laughter. What a stupid question that was! Everyone asked each other that question. To think that she had believed for any length of time that there something unique about Alethea. But then the sense of asking such a simple question struck Adrama, and she glanced around the room quickly. She had forgotten something that Alethea had not... they were not alone.

Adrama chose her words carefully, speaking truthfully but not letting Alethea see the exact feelings she had for Finduilas. "To give you my honest opinion, she rather annoys me," she said. "She seems to be... putting on a show, if you understand my feelings. No, I decidedly do not think very much of her." Feelings began to grow inside of her, and Alethea was looking at her in a peculiar, rather superior way, so she hastily changed the subject. "Dryea (your sister, isn't she?) is strikingly beautiful, I must say."

Alethea made a soft little 'mmm' noise of agreement, and then there was a silence that made Adrama rather uncomfortable. She hastily added that she didn't mean anything to the contrary of Alethea, and the latter laughed and brushed her off, reassuring her that no offence at all had been taken. Adrama realized how dangerous it was to tell one sister that the other was very beautiful.

The comment Adrama had made was very typical of her. She knew that she herself was rather attractive, but she never tried to ignore the feelings that someone was more beautiful than her when they were. And the simple but very true fact was that Dryea outshone her. In normal circumstances Adrama would have a deep envy for the one who was taking glory from her by her own beauty, but Dryea created more complicated feelings. She disliked her because she was beautiful; but then again she greatly liked her. She had such a wonderful smile and friendly manner. Who couldn't like her?

Adrama's eyes went over Alethea again. Was that same charm visible in the beauty's sister? Adrama couldn't tell. At any rate, she was rather looking forward to talking more with Alethea after the luncheon. She was looking forward to getting to know her better... or about her. Adrama wasn't sure if Alethea could be considered a friend... not yet. No, Alethea was more of the ally-type, not the real friend. She was like Emilia. But wasn't Emilia a friend? Adrama felt a little dizzy from confusion. Addruran used to be a friend too.

She swiftly turned earnest eyes to Alethea, but found that she was at a complete loss of what to say. Or at least things to say that she could speak without her mother reproving her in any way. Yet... A little smile flickered on Adrama's face. Though it normally would bring a shocked reaction from her mother ?or at least a pretended one- this luncheon was an entirely different matter. And she was curious to see what Alethea's reaction would be. Yes, she would say it without fear.

Without giving any reason for doing so, Adrama spoke in sincere, cold tones, her eyes locked with Alethea's, waiting for the reaction, no matter what it would be, uttering the words, "I hate Finduilas."

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Ealasaid

07-22-2003, 02:56 PM

“Finduilas! Tessa!” exclaimed Averyll, looking up at the two women that now stood at their table. Both were dressed beautifully, one in ivory, the other in a frock of pale yellow. “Where have you been all morning? And these two ladies - “ she indicated Vieana and Elen with a nod and an impish smile “ - were heckling me that I might have hopped a ship back to Dol Amroth…”

Tessa laughed, and Finduilas gave them a serene smile. “Now, why would I do that?” Finduilas asked, taking her seat opposite the other ladies. “When there is so much to do here to get ready for the wedding.” She helped herself to a plate of grapes and melon slices. “Did you have a good time at the party last night? Wasn’t everyone charming?”

Averyll and Elen exchanged a glance.

“Oh, the party was lovely!” answered Elen quickly. “Everyone was so friendly and charming. And I’ve never seen so many beautiful dresses. The seamstresses here can’t begin to compete with your Diorwyn, but they did turn out some beautiful gowns.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “All everyone did all night was jostle around to get a peek at us. It was like being in a display case for the evening.”

Finduilas gave her a reproachful look. “Don’t be wicked, Tessa. You can’t blame them for being curious.”

“What I want to know,” interjected Vieana. “Is what you think of your new home. How does Minas Tirith suit you?”

Finduilas paused a moment to think, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I can’t say as I have seen enough of it yet to know, but I will look to like, if that makes any difference.” She paused again, this time to take a bite of fruit. “The people have certainly gone out of their way to make me feel welcome. I wouldn’t have been surprised to encounter just a little jealousy even, but, so far, everyone has been very kind.”

Remembering the young Minas Tirith woman who had left the party the night before in tears, Averyll bit her tongue. When she gasped and raised her hand to her mouth, Vieana gave her a sharp look, reminding Averyll with her eyes that they had already agreed not to share what they had heard with Tessa or Finduilas just yet. With tears of pain in her own eyes, Averyll nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said once she could speak again. “I just bit my tongue. I know it’s not on the menu, but there it was! I couldn‘t resist.”

The other ladies laughed and, although Averyll wanted to crawl under the table, it was too late. Attention was already on her.

“So, Averyll,” said Finduilas lightly. “How do you like Minas Tirith?”

“It’s an interesting place,” she answered carefully. “I met a baker this morning who swears he has the best sticky buns in the world. I thought it was a bit cocky of him, but, not being an authority on sticky buns, I couldn’t call him to task for it. For all I know, he might!”

The other ladies laughed again, but Tessa was not willing to let her duck the question so easily. “That’s fascinating, Averyll,” she said. “But I think what Finduilas really wants to know is what you thought of Denethor!” Her brown eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Tessa!” exclaimed Finduilas, a slight flush rising in her cheeks.

As the other ladies burst into laughter again, Averyll made her escape. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, raising an empty pitcher. “We’re out of drinks! I’ll just pop round to the kitchen and ask the cook for more.”

Vieana pointed to a bell on the side board. “We can ring for more!” she called after Averyll, but it was too late. Averyll had already slipped out the door, pitcher in hand.

As she made her way down the hall toward the kitchen, Averyll silently berated herself for being such a ninny, biting her tongue and then rushing out like a thief with a guilty conscience. All Finduilas had wanted to know was how Averyll liked Minas Tirith, but Averyll was afraid that once she got talking, she would let something slip, something that might color Finduilas’ view of the city that was to be her new home in a negative light. Averyll did not want to do that. In her opinion, Finduilas needed to think Minas Tirith was wonderful. She and Elen and Vieana would have to protect her as best they could and as long as they could from the jealousy and evil rumors. Thinking of which, Averyll suddenly smiled to herself. Maybe she could use this opportunity to see what the servants in the kitchen were talking about. She quickened her step. Whatever was being said among the nobility, the servants were usually the first to hear it.

maikafanawen

07-22-2003, 03:42 PM

Grateful that both her friends had shown up at the luncheon, Dryea devoted herself to the conversation they had started, blocking out the words spoken by her mother and the other guests.

“Doubtful!” Elena laughed. “The men would not have heard any rumours - and if they do, it goes in one ear and out the other! What I want to know, is if she isn’t really who she says she is…who is she? Surely these rumours must have come from somewhere, and for some reason – someone must know something about her past.”

Dryea thought on Elena’s innocent supposition and agreed silently to herself. Very well mother, you got us into this one. Where is she from then if not from Dol Amroth? Dryea glanced imperceptibly towards Ruiel who gave her a fleeting smile. Ha! she thought to herself. She knows my thoughts as though my mind were a book that she hath read. Her disgruntled opinions subsided as she looked again at the honestly calm expression hidden behind the social enthusiasm. Ruiel knew exactly what she was going to do and how, of this Dryea was suddenly sure. Her mother was truly a clever person. Satisfied, she returned focus to her friends.

“This is dull,” whispered Emilia so that only Elena and Dryea could hear. Both agreed wordlessly, sipping lazily at their tea.

“Do you return home this evening?” inquired Elena, directing her question towards Dryea. She nodded, setting her cup down and wishing there had been more sugar in the tasteless brew.

“We leave almost immediately after the luncheon I think. I wish it wasn’t so far from here. It can get quite lonesome.” Talk went on at about the some degree throughout the luncheon, words of Finuilas and her delegation fluttering about purposely. Dryea wondered halfheartedly if Ruiel should mention anything she knew here or was waiting for a better, more appropriate time...

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Elora

07-22-2003, 09:48 PM

With Alethea notable arrival, more than fashionably late, Ruiel supressed her grimace at her younger daughter's inability to contain her opinions. Must she always wear them on her sleeve, Ruiel wondered in exasperation. When Adrama and Alethea left to make a hopefully better acquaintance, Ruiel was left to explain Alethea's blatant sarcastic rudeness to Pelien. It was not a position Ruiel relished, explaining anything to Pelien.

"Impetuousness of youth, " Ruiel began as Pelien levelled a somewhat offended smile at her. Pelien sniffed in reply, lifting her chin somewhat. "Still, such youthful exuberance when moulded by a firm hand can make a woman her fortune." Ruiel smiled, to soften the blow of her reference to Morthaniawen's vast wealth. Pelien, not wishing to get into a contest of economic capacity, lowered her chin somewhat.

"Perhaps the charm and refinement of your sweet Adrama will have a positive effect on my youngest daughter. Example is a powerful teacher." Pelien nodded, casting a long look at where their daughter's sat in conversation, wondering which trait would rub off on whom. Ruiel took that opportunity to allow Pelien to see to her other guests. Dryea was chatting amicably with Elena.

Ruiel caught the look her older daughter sent to her across the room. Elena looked to be discussing something of fascination, her wrapt expression gilding her young features. The rumours were drifting around the room. Finduilias was not who she said she was. Finduilias was hiding something. Ranne slipped in discreetly, cheeks flushed from having run to attend and possibly from selecting the most trustworthy porter for their luggage.

Ruiel noted her presence and allowed herself to be stopped by the same woman whom had spoken to her at breakfast.

"I cannot bear it any long, Lady Morthaniawen! I have to know what she is hiding!"

The woman gripped the porcelain saucer of her tea cup tightly as though she'd fly apart if it slipped from her hands. An highly strung woman, Ruiel had picked her mark well. She was well known within Minas Tirith as having a loose tongue, but few could censure her for her talk. Her connections by marriage were such that she was an untouchable gossip. She was tolerated, barely, at the best of times.

However, with the rumours concerning Finduilias, those who had avoided her at all costs now hung on her words. She was the centre of attention. Led carefully, she would take credit for the "truth" and any retaliation should it be discovered as the lies it was would fall on her shoulders. Even in that case, Minas Tirith and her nobles would be free one gossip: a most pleasing outcome.

Ruiel smiled benevolently at the woman who clutched her arm a little too tightly. How the saucer must feel between her pinscer grip! She stiffened her arm in the manner that her husband said felt like her flesh had turned to ice. Disapproval at the overfamiliar touch radiated from Ruiel, and the gossip released her when she realised what she had done. Noone laid hands on the Lady Morthaniawen. As her face fell a little, Ruiel let her think she had offended her only source of continued popularity. When Ruiel spoke kindly, if somewhat exasperated, to her, she all but quivered with relief and renewed excitement.

"Surely one so knowledgeable as you would know," Ruiel purred as she smoothed her skirts like they were ruffled feathers. "With your experience and intimate acquaintance of those noble born, you know that there are some families whose prestige shines bright and clear. Your own, for example."

"Yes, yes, yours too," the other replied hastily. "Go on," she urged. Ruiel had her on the hook well and truly now.

"There are some who whilst great are not so highly thought of," Ruiel continued as the woman impatently nodded. "And there are some that are tolerated simply out of politeness."

"Yes, I know that," the woman said. Of course she did. She made it her business to know who did what to whom and why that either elevated their status or ensured it sank into oblivion of commonality.

"But there is only one who is of royal lineage, yet is despised by all." Ruiel watched the woman's mind wheel and spin so quickly that smoke would surely start to waft from her ears. Dawning realisation replaced her earlier impatience.

"Really," she said with wide eyes.
"It lies not to me to reveal such painful secrets," Ruiel replied.
"No, no, of course not. Oh how terrible!" The glee in her eyes suggested exactly the contrary.
"I really must get some more tea, if you will excuse me. Please do pass on my regards to your husband and son," Ruiel said. The other woman spared her having to remember their insignificant names. She was frantic to tell all who would listen her terrible, entertaining, fascinating news. Ruiel left her to it, face serene, as the gossip throw the lie so hard into the pool that the ripples virtually knocked all the guests off their feet.

It was fortuitous that Pelien had the foresight to provide so many chairs, mismatched as they were. Ruiel had a new cup of wretched tea poured for her by a passing maid and held herself aloof from the spreading rumour. Ranne was on the other side of the room, she noted. Eventually the rumour came back to Ruiel.

"Such a terrible thing. Are you sure she is Ar-Pharazon's kin," she asked sadly shaking her head. The reply was predictable. It was gossip and sheer conjecture. Of course it was true.

maikafanawen

07-23-2003, 03:18 PM

It wasn’t long after Dryea had glanced towards her mother before the rumour was introduced to Emilia, Elena, and herself. Upon hearing the story her mother had subtly concocted, Dryea froze in a mixture of humour, disbelief, and even slight terror. The latter came from being sure that there was no way Ruiel was going to get away with it. Of course no one knew that she had been the one to start it. The gossip was the first to pass it on so if traced, the blame would land on her and not Lady Morthaniawen.

It would be the same, Dryea thought with a slight shock, with Elena and Emilia. They had been the first to hear the guess from the Morthaniawen’s lips at the welcoming ball. Immediately they had assumed their suppositions were blunt and to the point but on reflection they would see that Dryea had said no such thing and they had made the conclusion on their own. Therefore the guilt would rest entirely on their shoulders and leave Dryea free of blame.

A smile played at the corners of Dryea’s mouth as she thought. How clever mother is, she deliberated. No one could ever guess. Then another idea wormed its way into Dryea’s gearing mind. The luncheon! Perfect! The rumours will be traced back to the luncheon. Oooh all the suspects to choose from! Pelien of course will be the first target followed by the supposedly concerned Tiriel and Siriel. Though Ruiel’s oldest daughter was unaware, Lady Morthaniawen had already chosen the victim who at this moment was surrounded by silly women hanging on every juicy word that issued from her tittle-tattle mouth.

Completely pleased with her mother’s success Dryea abandoned her insipid tea as Elena and Emilia buzzed over the information.

“Ar-Pharazon?” said Emilia dubiously. “That seems a bit far-fetched.” Dryea laughed daintily, careful not to slosh her drink.

“I think I have to agree with you on that, Emilia. Gossips theses days have quite the imagination,” the two shook their heads, but Elena cut in earnestly.

“No, no,” she argued. “Listen. I have been doing study in that area recently and it makes perfect sense. If you had survived the destruction and escaped as Ar-Pharazon’s descendents or what not, you’d go back to Dol Amroth wouldn’t you? And what would you take up as? Surely not a maid.” She paused enough for her friends to agree. “No, they had enough money to establish themselves as a well-to-do family with political acuteness. Eventually they’d grow in reputation until they were so close to the royal family that, as it is in Finduilas’ case—”

“Is the royal family!” finished Dryea as if she had just had an epiphany and figured this out for the first time. “You are clever Elena!” she commented as her friend smiled sagely. “But are you sure?”

“How can she not be,” snapped Emilia excitedly.

“It is clever of her though,” added Elena. “We should be careful in revealing what we know.” An amused glint had established itself in Emilia’s eyes and she talked in tones that told her two friends she wanted to use this to their best advantage.

“But she’d be discharged the minute the steward and his son found out the truth,” she said slowly. “And then her whole group would be out of our hair!”

“Ooh, but Ar-Pharazon was evil!” protested Dryea, acting timid. “Suppose Finduilas is just as terrible! Things could go very bad for all of us.” Emilia shook her pretty head confidently.

“I doubt it. Minas Tirith is too powerful,” she smiled as Dryea toyed nervously with the lace on her bodice. Then a second idea, that would do wonders for her act, replaced her simply nervous expression to one of fear. Elena and Emlia read it at once and voiced their queries.

“I’m from Dol Amroth!” whispered Dryea frantically. “She probably has the entire city filled with her allies and if she is found out and sent back then we can never go home!” She did well to make the beginning of what was to be tears appear in her eyes if she wasn’t comforted.

“There, there Dryea,” said Elena comfortingly. “When all of it is cleared by the steward I’m sure he’ll take action right away. You’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Deciding that her words were good enough, Dryea collected herself and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief hidden in a skirt pocket before folding and replacing it.

“You’re right,” she said confidently. “I’m being foolish.”

“Don’t take it to heart,” said Emilia. “Let’s have some more tea and turn our conversation to something more, interesting.” The other two knew that she wanted to speak of men and smiled mysteriously, diving into the conversation. Every now and then Emilia would say something funny and both Elena and Dryea would laugh a bit loudly, achieving reproving glares from the older women. Dryea, glad that her two friends seemed to be completely convinced, enthusiastically contributed to their discussion which lasted for the remainder of the luncheon.

Ealasaid

07-23-2003, 09:21 PM

Carrying the empty pitcher, Averyll hurried down the hallway in search of the kitchen. She wasn’t entirely sure in which direction it lay, but figured that she had to find it eventually. If not, she was bound to run into a chambermaid or a guard at some point. She could ask directions.

Coming to the stairs at the end of the hallway, she decided to go down. In most of the houses at home in Dol Amroth, the servants’ quarters and the kitchen were usually located on the lower floors. Surely, Minas Tirith would be no different. It was a narrow stair, the landings lined with doors. She had, indeed, found the servants’ quarters, she discovered, as a young woman in a maid’s cap popped her head out of one of the doors. Seeing Averyll, she came out and bobbed a quick curtsy.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said. “These are the servants’ quarters. You shouldn’t be down here.”

Averyll smiled pleasantly, holding up the empty pitcher. “I was looking for the kitchen.”

The maid smiled in return. “Oh! I’ll take that. The kitchen is back in the other direction.” She reached out for the pitcher.

Averyll gave it to her, but rather than returning back up the stairs, she hesitated. “ I was wondering if you could show me the way to the kitchen, anyway?” she asked. “In case I might want something later.”

The maid continued smiling. “Oh, you don’t need to go to the kitchen yourself. If you need anything, you can ring for it.” She curtsied again and looked at Averyll expectantly, obviously waiting for her to return back upstairs. Averyll shrugged and took a step back up toward the guest residences. Well, that was a roaring success, she thought to herself. Maybe I should try talking to some of the servants we brought with us from Dol Amroth. They might have heard something. She decided to change her approach.

“Does Diorwyn have her quarters here somewhere?” she asked, raising her arm to show where a thread had come loose in the hem of her sleeve. She gave the chambermaid a friendly grimace. “I’m not only lost, but in need of repair as well.”

The chambermaid turned and pointed to a door on the next landing. Averyll thanked her and continued on down the stairs to the seamstress’ door, feeling the eyes of the chambermaid between her shoulder blades the entire way. She knocked, then turned and looked back up toward the maid. “Thank you!” she called back to her and waved. The chambermaid curtsied yet again and disappeared up the stairs, carrying Averyll’s empty pitcher.

elven maiden Earwen

07-23-2003, 09:31 PM

Where is Averyll, Eleniel wondered as she sat and ate? She had run of a long time ago to get more wine and she still hadn’t returned. I should go figure out where she is.

“Um. Excuse me I must use the ladies room,” she said standing up and walking towards the door before anyone had a chance to say anything. Luckily the lavatory was right next to the door Averyll had gone into. She quickly slipped though that door and headed down the long hallway.

Not far down she came to a set of narrow winding stairs. Up or down, Elen contemplated. As she stood there a Minas Tirth maid made her way up the stairs.

“Excuse me, did you see a woman down there? She has brown hair and blue eyes.” Eleniel asked the young maid.

“Sorry milady, I have not. I would look for you but I have not the time” she said and with a quick curtsy she was off. I’ll just go down and look myself, she thought heading down the stairs. Seconds later another young maid appeared caring a pitcher.

“Excuse me, did you see a woman down there? She has brown hair and blue eyes.” Eleniel asked her.

“Yes I did. She was in search of the kitchen but I told her I would go get her wine.” She said smiling politely.

“Do you know where she is?” Eleniel asked her face bighting by this.

“As a matter o’ fact I do. She headed towards I seamstress Diorwyn.”

“Which room is that”

“Seventh door on the left. Next floor down”

“Thank you” Elen said as she started down the stairs.

“Always” the maid said making an awkward curtsy before heading the rest of the way up the stairs.

No one was in this hall. Eleniel walked slowly towards a large wooden door, seventh on the left side and knocked three times…

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

alaklondewen

07-23-2003, 10:47 PM

Pelien’s Luncheon

Pelien sat quietly watching her guests devour the new development in the quest for Finduilas’ real identity. Ar-Pharazon’s descendent, here, ready to marry the future Steward seemed a little far fetched, but the idea was rather intriguing. What would Denethor think? Surely he would discard the wretch his bride had turned out to be, and that would leave room for another… A sly smile crept across Pelien’s face as she sipped her tea.

“Madame Pelien,” the voice of the cook broke Pelien’s thoughts. “Lunch is served.” Nodding a thanks, Pelien rose and the rest of the ladies followed her into the open, sunlit dining room adjacent to where they were sitting.

A long cherry table was located in the center of the room. Before every seat sat a plate with crisp greens with a single flower laid gently across each place setting. Rummel moved quickly between the women respectfully pulling out their chairs and then placing an ivory napkin in each lap. Pelien, of course, positioned herself at the head of the table, and once they were all settled, the conversation slowly started again. First compliments were given to Pelien about the lovely table and salads, but soon the rumors rose above the small talk, and the whole table discussed Finduilas’ identity and what it would mean to Minas Tirith.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Arien

07-24-2003, 03:17 AM

"I hate Finduilas." Adrama uttered under her breath. Her eyes flashed with a sudden coldness and whatever Alethea had expected her to say it certainly wasn’t those three words. It was too late now to cover her shock over what she had said, but Alethea suspected Adrama thought the shock was over the shock was over the fact that it was a terrible thing to say. But it wasn’t, it was a pleasant shock. Of course, Alethea wanted to blurt out that she held her in contempt too, but that was too brash for a lady like her. Maybe she would go about the matter in a Dryea like way. Or maybe not. A small smile broke across her face.

“Really?” she laughed. Adrama’s eyes were still cold, and Alethea could see that this was no act she really did loathe the woman. Which was not a surprise. And then the question fell upon to Alethea’s lips. Why? Of course it was either one of two, that this girl actually believed the rumours that he sister and mother had been spreading, or, or she actually wanted to marry Denethor.

Would it be impolite to ask, maybe if she did Adrama would think her too brazen and not converse with her any longer. She did not want to loose the girl as a potential friend, as she was much like herself, in personality that was. But she would not have had said it without knowing that Alethea would seek out why she did hate Finduilas.

“Why?” she ask her curiosity nagging her. Adrama’s head dropped down to her dress and then she looked up again.

“I hate her, I hate…” she repeated it with such fury in her voice that Alethea was once again taken a back, “..her…”

“Yes, but..” but Alethea’s protest was cut off by the announcement that lunch was ready, a scurry of women headed towards the lusciously decorated dining room. But Alethea pulled back Adrama’s arm as she got up. “So do I…but we cannot talk properly with them,” she nodded her head towards their mothers, “ watching over us.”

Adrama smiled, she seemed complacent with the fact Alethea shared her opinions. “Well tomorrow we might speak. But for now let us eat and at least be seeming to enjoy ourselves and we will talk of our meeting at the end of the lunch.” Alethea nodded and the two joined the table.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

Orofaniel

07-25-2003, 12:54 PM

Betuli made her way to Diorwyn's room. The seamstress had to help her with one of Betuli's dresses. It had been torn and it had now gained a large split on the side. It needed sewing and Diorwyn just seemed to be the right person to ask for help, of course she was the right person, she was a seamstress!

She made her way through the hallway. She was heading for Diorwyn's room when Betuli heard some giggling ladies. They were talking about the Lady, Finduilas.

"Have you heard it?" One voice asked. Another voice answered quickly. "Yes, of course I have!" "I mean who hasn't?" It continued, giggling even more.

The third voice interrupted;"The lady is not who she claims to be!" "Some even use the word 'imposter' around her!" The voice continued.

Betuli made a rare grimase, what kind of rubbish was this? Finduilas was Finduilas and nothing more or less. An imposter?! She muttered the word. It didn't sound good, not at all. It sounded quite......well, she didn't really have time to think about this and debat with herself. This was a rubbish subject. Betuli just continued down to Diorwyn's room.

She knocked on the door and was told to enter. And so she did. There was Dirowyn sitting and sewing of course.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you," Betuli said. Her voice seemed a bit irritated but she was not being rude in any kind of way.

"No, your not disturbing, dear friend." Diorwyn answered in a low voice still consentrating on the stiches. "Please sit down Betuli, and tell me your errand, because I assume you have one," Diorwyn said kindly while looking on the dress Betuli held in her hand.

"Yes, of course I have one." Betuli answered, looking at her dress as well. "Look!" Betuli said while holding out the dress. Diorwyn took it in her hands, she looked at it. "Oh, a split," She said at once.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Betuli answered a bit sad. "This was one of my best dresses, you know." She added. "Do you think you can fix it?" She continued.

"Yes of course I can," Diorwyn said.

She took the dress gently and found a matching thread. Then she found her small needle and started to sew.

Betuli started thinking about the voices, the voices that called her dear Lady an imposter. Without much thought she asked Diorwyn if she had heard such nonsense.

Betuli interrupted herself and the small "em..." from Diorwyn. "I heard some ladies talking about Findulias while going down here. They said that Findulias wasn't the person she claimed to be." Betuli said, she looked quite worried. And her eyes turned away from both her dress and Diorwyn.

Then suddenly she got up, muttering something about that her duties were waiting and that she had forgot the time. "Do you mind if I come back later, for the dress I mean?" She asked politely, while she hurried towards the door.

"Yes, of course, I'll be done by then," Diorwyn answered while looking up at Betuli. She said her good byes and Betuli left in a hurry.

"Thanks," Betuli said while she was running trough the door.

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

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[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

Everdawn

07-26-2003, 04:09 AM

Vieana had a slight idea where the others had gone. It was not like Averyll and Elen to sit down while a friend was being slandered.

"Where, did they get off to then i wonder" said Finduilas glancing after them. Vieana kept her grey eyes on her teacup which she sipped lightly. "I imagine they have something which needs attending, not to worry, im sure they will be back soon." she sighed.

"Vieana, do you know something and are not telling us?" Tessa remarked staring st her sharply with a sly grin on her face. Vieana was taken aback. "Oh! dont be so silly! Now, Finduilas, tell me, what of our steward to be?"

Finduilas stared at her knees and was quiet for a second. "He is wonderful." she said blushing. Vieana smiled. "Married life is a lot of fun, and very rewarding. Take myself for instance, I have a wonderful husband, and a wonderful home with great friends. Of course it would be nice for a child right now, well thats what Dardanir wants but so far we have not been so lucky." she said changing the subject.

"Well, Vieana you are a kind friend, we wouldnt have any other would we Finduilas?" Tessa laughed. "No" Finduilas agreed. Vieana was finishing her salad when she was reminded of why she was so hungry in the first place. "Well, we were looking for you all morning!" she exclaimed.

"Oh." began tessa, "Well, you see i overslept and the i couldnt find my dress i wanted to wear." said Tessa "Then why did you not wear another?" Vieana torted. "Because, i like this one."
"Im sure you do Tessa." said Vieana now content that Averyll and Elen began to have things under control, well she hoped.

elven maiden Earwen

07-26-2003, 10:03 AM

The door was pulled open and Eleniel peered into the sunlit room. She stepped in a looked around. A beautiful gown lay on the bed.

“Diorwyn, did you sew that? It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed staring at the unfinished embroidery that she suspected Diorwyn had been working on. She turned to look at Diorwyn. She smiled as she stared at the dress.

“Thank you my dear.” She replied turning to look at Eleniel.

“Hello Averyll" Elen said looking at the girl sitting on a chair. “Got lost on the way to the kitchen, did you?” she said with a small grin. Averyll tried to protest but it only made Elen burst into laughter. Averyll smiled.

“So what brings you to my humble home?” Diorwyn said looking around. “Averyll told me she is in need or repair. I sit the same with you?”.

“Well, actually I came down here looking for Averyll who abandoned us at lunch” Eleniel said sitting down…

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Snowdog

07-26-2003, 07:29 PM

It sure was a fine day Ränne thought, hearing Ruiels words of the morning. Ränne did all she was asked by lady Ruiel, and while the luncheon went on, Ränne kept busy preparing the delecatessen for their service, and was quiet and unnoticed while all went on, yet she listened and heard, and the words of deceit was in place.

But Ränne had other thoughts, and it all stemmed from how Lady Ruiel treated her daughters. Why can not Dryea pursue the handsome Gondorian soldier? Whay must all be held for status and they enjoy not their days of youth? Ränne could do little to influence Ruiel in her thinking... unless she.. no...

The words Ruiel spoke of Alethea fueled her thoughts, but she would just bury it away...

The lunch was served and the great table was set. She had no part of serving here for other would do it, so Ränne slipped out unnoticed, and would set about the place to look and see what she may find out.

Words spoken by Finduilas, Vieana, and Tess, who wished to know of the Steward heir of Gondor. Talk of children touched Ränne, and set her mind swimming. Searching for another leaf to chew, she realized she was out of place, and hoped she drew nobody's attention. Stepping back to the servants quarter she calmed, and after straightening her skirts, prepared to go back make sure all was ready for their departure to their house.

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

Ealasaid

07-26-2003, 10:31 PM

Averyll sat in a chair near Diorwyn as she stitched away at the dress Betuli had dropped off just minutes before Averyll's arrival. Diorwyn had already addressed the loose thread in Averyll's sleeve, which had turned out to be just that: a loose thread. The hems and seams were all still nicely intact. Averyll thanked her but still lingered in the chair, watching Diorwyn work and admiring the embroidery on the bodice of Finduilas' wedding dress, which lay nearly finished on Diorwyn's bed.

She was trying to decide how to broach the subject of the rumors to Diorwyn when she heard three firm knocks at the door. Diorwyn smiled politely to Averyll and rose to answer the door. It was Eleniel, who stepped into the room and looked around, Averyll thought, with the same sense of awe as a child entering a sorceror's den. She had noticed Elen's fondness for gowns and pretty needlework. To see the master at work must have been a tremendous thrill for Elen. Averyll smiled to herself as Elen and Diorwyn talked for a moment about embroidery and dresses.

After a moment, Elen noticed Averyll and grinned. The two ladies greeted each other, and Elen took a seat beside Averyll. "So," said Diorwyn, looking from face to face between the two ladies. "What brings you to my humble home?" Her eyes settled on Elen's fair face. "Averyll told me she was in need of repair. Is it the same with you?"

Elen flushed. "Well, actually, I came down here looking for Averyll who abandoned us at lunch."

Diorwyn's sharp eyes went back to Averyll. She raised one arched eyebrow.

"Ehm..." Under the seamstresses eyes, Averyll suddenly felt like a naughty schoolgirl caught at some kind of mischief. She, too, flushed slightly. "Well, really, I was hoping to talk to you about what seems to be happening here," she finally blurted out. "I keep hearing awful things about Finduilas. It's not like anyone has come outright with it. It's all rumors and innuendos."

Diorwyn lowered her handwork, her face growing serious.

"And Vieana says the guards are acting strangely!" added Elen.

Diorwyn nodded at Elen and turned her attention back to Averyll. "What sort of things are they saying?"

"That she's not really from Dol Amroth, that she is some sort of imposter. I was wondering if you or any of the maids might have heard anything like that. Elen, Vieana, and I --" she cast a quick glance at Elen, who nodded "-- were hoping to get to the bottom of it before anything serious could come of it."

Diorwyn nodded sagely. "I have heard some idle gossip around the servants' quarters and in the hallways. It has troubled me deeply. Betuli has heard much of the same, but, so far, no one has said anything directly to us. What we have heard has been overheard."

"If it troubles them so much, I wish someone would just come right out and ask us," sighed Eleniel. "Then we could set them straight."

Averyll shrugged. "I don't know. It seems very malicious to me." She paused. "Did you say Betuli had heard some of the same things?"

Diorwyn nodded. "Yes, when she dropped off her dress." She indicated the dress in her lap. "She seemed quite angry about it. Actually, she should be back in a few minutes. You can talk to her yourself."

"Oh, that would be great," Averyll smiled. "In the meantime, does anyone have any ideas what we should do next? We can't just muzzle all the gossips..."

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

Orofaniel

07-29-2003, 05:42 AM

Betuli had finally done all her duties. She was planning on taking a small nap, but then she reminded herself that she had to go and pick up her dress, which she had left at Diorwyn's place earlier that day.

She walked down the halllway and found Diorwyn's room. She knocked on the door and went in. She was very much surprised when she saw tree ladies inside the room. Diorwyn had guests. Eleniel and Averyll were sitting there too.

"Hi, " Betuli said akwardly. She was a bit embarrassed for just bursting in. "I'm sorry if I was interrupting or anything, I was just here for my dress, that's all..." She continued.

"Oh, no," said Eleniel.

"We were just talking about you," Averyll said.

"You were?? How come, if I may ask," Betuli said, seeming very much surprised indeed.

"Well, we were talking about the Lady Findulias, and Diorwyn here, said that you had heard rumours as well." Averyll said. Her eyes were looking at Betuli and she seemed serious.

"Yes, that's right, I did heard some rumours," Betuli confirmed, while finding herself a seat.

"So what did you hear then?" Eleniel asked eagerly and Betuli thought she heard some giggling.

"Well, I heard that some ladies, down the hall, said that Finduilas wasn't from Dol Amroth. She wasn't the person she claimed to be and some even called her an imposter!" Betuli asnwered quickly, while her temper was rising.

"You then? What did you hear? " Betuli asked at the moment she had finished her story.

"Well, we heard something of the same sort." Averyll said. Betuli nodded, she was concerned everyone could see that.

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-29-2003, 03:46 PM

Meirelle finished making Alethea's bed and sighed. Rubbing her back, she took a last look around the room to make sure that it was perfect. Satisfied, Meirelle stepped out of Alethea's room and made her way back towards the kitchen. When she reached it, she picked up a plate of dainties and tapped an older maid as she walked by. "Ma'am," she began. "Ma'am, are these dainties to be served at the luncheon?"

The woman looked at the plate and nodded. Meirelle thanked her and started to walk towards the luncheon. When she reached the room in which it was held, she slipped inside and set the plate upon a table. As she turned to leave, Meirelle spied some empty, soiled serving plates and gathered them up.

When she reached the kitchen with her stack of dirty plates, Meirelle deposited them in the sink and turned to go back to the servants' quarters for a rest. As she passed one door, she heard a voice say, "Finduilas wasn't the person who she claimed to be." Meirelle kept walking, but she started to giggle to herself. What a good job these women did spreading rumours! You would think they were telling the truth! Meirelle thought, and had to restrain herself from laughing out loud.

maikafanawen

07-30-2003, 10:00 AM

Concluding the Luncheon

Lunch was served and Emilia, Elena, and Dryea took their place at the table, eating the delectable cuisine that had been roasted, steamed, and in the mushroom’s case, grilled. Both nervous and excited about her mother’s accomplishments during the little get together, Dryea could hardly get past her appetizer let alone touch her entrée. The wine was good though, Dryea admitted. Dorwinion wine was served all across Middle Earth, even in Umbar, and Dryea had an acquired a partiality taste for it.

At the conclusion of the meal, ladies began to take their leave, politely thanking Pelien for her hospitality.

“We thoroughly enjoyed your company, Lady Pelien,” said Ruiel as Alethea and Dryea stood on either side of her, “and hope to return the favor one day.”

“It was my pleasure Lady Ruiel,” she answered graciously.

The coach was waiting for them back at the steward’s mansion, ready to take them home. Dryea climbed in to the dark purple interior of the carriage and took the seat across from Ruiel and beside Alethea. The ride home was silent. The trio had nothing to speak of that could be overheard by the driver and his companion so all conversations were postponed until they were inside their own residence.

Behind them, in a similar coach rode Meirelle, Rhe, Gwen and Ranne. The four maids had spent their morning well tidying up and packing. Ruiel was much appreciative that they were able to leave immediately thanks to their diligent and assiduous effort.

The ride home was rough and Dryea had much to reflect upon. How could her mother risk such a thing. Ar-Pharazon! Though as Dryea turned the idea over and over in her head it suddenly became more believable. It was true indeed that in the high circles of Dol Amroth, the subject of Finduilas had been a scarce one. Her match with Denethor, Dryea speculated, had always been recognized, therefore deleting any interest of conversation—or more correctly, petty gossip, with the Dol Amroth hoi polloi. Also by revealing her connection with Ar-Pharazon it still kept Finduilas as a Dol Amroth citizen preventing silly maids from making the mistake she wasn’t from there at all.

Dryea suppressed a giggle as she though upon the expressions of the nobles if the rumor was twisted to grotesquely to even state that she was of corsair blood herself. Ruiel’s eldest daughter amused herself by picture Finduilas in the rich garb of a woman corsair and mounting the plank to her sire’s ship. Oh that would be witty. Finduilas didn’t have what it took to be a corsair anyhow: charm and exceptionally good looks? There is no way that any woman would last long with those two sole qualities.

Dropping her thoughts momentarily, Dryea gazed through the slit in the curtained window as they were taken down the cobblestone road passed the magnificent front gardens of nearby houses. The hedges were all trimmed perfectly and the gorse-bushes and blackberry brambles lined the fronts of the houses giving it the affluent look of a nobleman’s residence.

It wasn’t a long distance from there to the Morthaniawen Estate at all and they arrived much sooner even than Dryea anticipated. The horses were driven right up through the black iron gates to the steps that led up to the large mahogany double-doors. The coachman opened the entrance to the carriage and the three women stepped out: Ruiel first followed by Dryea then Alethea.

“Welcome home Madame,” said Adolfe, their butler as the doors were opened allowing the house’s mistresses to enter. Hats, gloves, and parasols were taken by maids up to their chambers as the three women went to see to the unpacking of their belongings.

“Go ahead and have those things taken right up Rhe and unpacked. I trust you don’t need my supervision.” The maid curtsied and ordered two male servants to see the things where they belonged. Dryea then turned to her mother who was watching her speculatively.

“You wanted to speak to me?” Dryea nodded and followed as her mother beckoned her into one of the rooms that didn’t have a normal entrance by door and instead opened as Ruiel pulled aside a tapestry and lifted the handle by the floor crown-moulding with her foot. The wall swung open and the two women entered.

The room was lined with shelves that held books a noblewoman of Gondor would never keep in her library. These books were on the histories of the Morthaniawen’s race, herb recipes you wouldn’t find at an ordinary apothecary, and others of the necessary sort for Ruiel and her daughter’s professional and personal uses. A long narrow worktable stood in the center of the very back wall. Here laid open jars and books: remnants from Ruiel’s last project left unfinished.

Now Lady Morthaniawen turned to her daughter, her expression relaxed now that she was around things she knew and was comfortable with.

“What is it?” she asked insensitively. Dryea stepped forward and looked her mother directly in the eye. This action showed that she considered herself an equal and wanted to be treated as such.

“Mother, are you mad? No one will fall for such a thing as what you said at the luncheon!!”

“But I didn’t say it. The gossip did,” she said this so matter-of-factly that Dryea thought that would be the extent of the exchange.

“I still don’t think it was—” Ruiel cut her off.

“That’s why I’m the one who does the thinking around here. You’ll see just how clever it was. I planned carefully Dryea. It shan’t go amiss.” She paused and went over to her worktable before adding, “Has anything ever?”

“No,” said Dryea feeling quite defeated. “I hope this shan’t be the first time.” She didn’t wait to see the slightly irritated expression on her mother’s face before she turned and disappeared behind the wall and emerged past the tapestry on the other side startling a maid who almost toppled a vase. Dryea sent her a reproachful glare before finding her way through the labyrinth of halls to her chambers.

The Morthaniawen home was cleverly decorated to accommodate both backgrounds imperceptibly. The location and sequence as to where decorations, earthenware, tapestries, paintings, and furniture was placed could be deciphered by a man (or woman) with either lineage and still suppose that the residents of the home were allies when they could be either. There could be a large painting of a corsair hero hanging point blank upon the wall as long as it was flanked on either side by tapestries of ancient kings of men and no one would guess a thing. Dyrea personally couldn’t stand looking at the Gondorian objet d'arts but was grateful at least that she could identify paintings of her own heroes. Even if a loyalist asked the reason for a pirate’s portrait in the lounge (for example), she would decidedly answer that wouldn’t a king likewise hold paintings of his conquered? The matter was hardly then pursued.

The rooms in the mansion were standard: numerous guestrooms, study, library, conservatory, dining hall, dining room, ball room (or open room with doors that led out to the back patio and rear gardens), parlor, breakfast room, sunroom: your basic noble’s estate. However, there were certain inclusions inside this house that would most likely be absent in others. There are necessary amenities such as storerooms, private offices and libraries, workrooms and secure and unobserved access to the stables on the 6th Level of the city, the Gate and the streets. Through these additions, the Morthaniawen’s had a first hand access to everything they’d need or want right of entry to in the city.

Rhe was leaving Dryea’s room just as she arrived. “Anything else you needed?” the maid asked tiredly bowing her head in respect. Dryea thought about it quickly, checking to see if her decanter was refreshed with her preference then shook her head.

“No, you can go on. I’ll ring for someone if I do.” Rhe left then, closing the doors behind her so that it clicked and locked into place: a necessary precaution.

Dryea’s room was a classic Umbarian suite complete with an affluent canopy bed and exotic fabrics covering the sofa, chairs and a matching down comforter was spread over the bed. In front of the windows hung matching colors of solid prints underneath diaphanous drapes to permit every measurement of sunlight. These had been thrown back to reveal huge windows that looked out to the gardens surrounding the Morthaniawen estate.

Dryea ignored the beauties outside and glided mist like to her vanity where she sat looking exhaustedly at her reflection. It pleased her in a satisfactory way. Her skin was fair and bright, clear of any sort of blemishes. The bottom half of her auburn hair hung down around her slender neck and collarbones while the upper was woven into an intricate bun and pinned in the center back of her head. It was a little past noon and Dryea hadn’t anything else planned for the day, so, taking up a book she had chosen from the open library in her house, she donned a simple hat and took up her parasol to sit in the garden and read peacefully until tea.

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Nurumaiel

07-30-2003, 11:12 AM

Adrama stood at the door, politely bidding farewell to all the guests as her mother had instructed her to do. When Alethea approached her, there was a lingering moment where they looked at each other, and then Adrama smiled and said a few courteous words. She was eager to know Alethea better. Perhaps they could be friends?

The last guest left the house, and Adrama closed the door. She stood there for a moment, her back to the door and her hands behind her holding the knob, deep in thought. At last she looked up and again and crossed the room to Pelien. Slipping her arm through her mother's, she smiled up at her and said, "Mother, your luncheon was positively grand, and I do believe your guests quite enjoyed it."

"Did you enjoy it, dear?" said Pelien rather absently.

"Yes, Mother, I did," Adrama replied truthfully. "Alethea seems much like myself. Maybe I can become friends with her." Adrama hesitated, wondering if she should present the question that was in her mind to her mother. After all, would Pelien even know the answer? "Mother... is it true? I mean all this talk about Finduilas being related to Ar-Pharazon?"

A little hope was burning inside of her. Her mind was working much the same way as her mother's had at the luncheon. If Finduilas was related to Ar-Pharazon, and word of it came to Denethor's ears, how could he possibly wish to wed with her still? And that would leave him open for any woman in Gondor, but the one he would turn to would be herself, Adrama, because... Adrama bit her lip, puzzled. Why would he turn to her? Because she was the obvious choice!

Adrama looked earnestly up at Pelien. "Well, Adrama..." she said slowly and thoughtfully. She didn't say anything more for a few moments, then she smiled confidently. "I did believe it to sound a bit far-fetched at first, but what Elena said seemed to make perfect sense, and Dryea thought it might be true."

Adrama nodded. If Dryea thought so, than so it was. Not only was she extremely likeable and enchanting, but she also seemed to have a great deal of wisdom.

Satisfied, Adrama planted a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Thank you for the wonderful luncheon, Mother," she said. "I really did enjoy myself." Feeling happiness build up inside her at her mother's pleased expression, she retreated to her room and looked out her window. Everything seemed to be going so perfectly. As long as Addruran didn't come, she knew the remainder of the day would go wonderfully. But one of the most wonderful things would be meeting Alethea... really meeting her. Her thoughts strayed in that direction.

Alethea... she had seemed quite a likeable girl, though Adrama had noticed something strange while Alethea had been speaking to her mother. Not exactly rude, but it could hardly be called polite. Then again, Adrama herself hadn't been the perfect picture when she had stated that their mothers were wrong, that the two of them would have nothing in common. That had been rather foolish to say.

She thought back to how intelligent the girl had been. If Adrama had been the one in her place, she probably would have said something shocking that would upset her mother, but Alethea spoke in the manner that most annoyed Adrama... simple, absurd little questions that weren't worth answering. How sensible that had been, with the never-faltering eyes of their mothers on them!

And then Alethea's reaction when Adrama had confessed her feelings for Finduilas... Adrama had quite been looking forward to that. It had been shock, but Alethea had not been horrified. And had Adrama only been imagining it, or was there a faint look of admiration on Alethea's face for a brief moment? Oh, how pleased she had felt when Alethea had said she felt the same. She had also asked why. Adrama felt a little nervous then. Would Alethea think her silly once she confessed exactly why she hated Finduilas.

Don't think of that, Adrama told herself. Alethea seems to be much like me, and to honestly admit something would be a cause for admiration, at least to my eyes. She dropped that subject from her mind. "I wonder," she mused aloud. "Yes, I do wonder. I wonder why Alethea hates Finduilas." She tried to think of a sensible reason, but at last she shrugged and her thoughts left Alethea entirely with the murmured words, "Well, I suppose tomorrow I shall learn the answer to that!"

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Estelyn Telcontar

07-31-2003, 12:42 PM

Diorwyn looked around; her small room seemed so full! It was not merely that three visitors were more than it could comfortably accommodate; the very air seemed heavy with the rumours they discussed. She smiled at Averyll’s exclamation and said, “Muzzle the gossips! That is an enticing thought, but unfortunately, their words have already done considerable damage. Nothing we can say will change the opinions of the Minas Tirith nobility, but we can fight fire with fire.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Eleniel asked, puzzled.

“I mean, the only weapon we have to encounter the rumours is to start other rumours,” explained Diorwyn.

Betuli wondered, “How can we do that? We do not know any rumours about the people here that we could spread.”

“First we need to find out more about the Minas Tirith nobles,” the seamstress replied. “Who would profit from Finduilas’ ruined reputation? Let us try to get information discretely; I have some contacts in the city whom I can ask. Keep your eyes and ears open; when we know more, we will find a way to defend our princess.”

With a sparkle in their eyes and determination in their steps, the three young women left Diorwyn’s room to begin the task they had set themselves. Halfway down the hall, Betuli suddenly remembered the reason she had come to the seamstress. She hurried back to find Diorwyn standing in the doorway, holding her dress out to her. With a stammered “Thank you!”, the maid turned to carry the repaired clothing to her room.

Ealasaid

07-31-2003, 08:19 PM

After leaving Diorwyn’s room, Averyll and Eleniel headed back up the stairs and out of the servants’ quarters. Averyll felt better for having talked to Betuli and the seamstress, and was truly relieved that they finally had a plan of action in mind.

“I guess we should find Vieana,” Averyll said to Eleniel.

Eleniel nodded. “She should be in on this with us.”

Averyll agreed. “But we do still have to be careful that Finduilas and Tessa hear nothing of it.”

“Right!” Eleniel smiled. “Not even a hint.”

To seal the deal, the two ladies linked pinkies. Averyll, then, turned and ran down the wide hallway toward the dining room. Laughing, Eleniel followed. By the time they arrived back at the entrance to the dining room, both ladies were breathless and giggling. Averyll threw the door open to find the other three ladies, Finduilas, Tessa, and Vieana still lingering over coffee. The three of them looked up in surprise at Averyll’s and Elen’s boisterous entrance.

Finduilas smiled up at them, and raised her fine eyebrows, curious to be let in on the joke.

Averyll bent over to catch her breath, shaking her head at Finduilas. “I was trying to find the kitchen and ended up in the servants’ quarters,” she panted.

Eleniel laughed. “I did the same thing and I found her.”

“Ah!” Finduilas smiled. “We were just having coffee.” She gestured to the silver coffee service. “Join us?”

“That would be splendid!” Averyll took the seat she had vacated earlier. “You know I never did find the kitchen. I gave the wine pitcher to a maid. Did she ever bring more wine?”

“Yes, she did!” answered Tessa. “And an absolutely scrumptious fruit tart… which you missed.” She grinned mischievously.

Averyll threw up her hands. “I always leave at the wrong moment.”

They all laughed. Vieana poured coffee into cups for Averyll and Eleniel and handed them to the two ladies. “We were just talking about flowers for the wedding,” said Vieana. “I was thinking orchids and white roses.”

“Orchids!” exclaimed Eleniel. From there, the conversation evolved into a lively discussion of the relative merits of one type of flower over another, color, meanings of the individual blooms, and so on until finally Finduilas shook her head, waving one elegant hand in front of her face.

“I’m glad you’re not choosing my dress!” she laughed. “You would never agree on anything and I would have to be married in my dressing gown!”

“And, speaking of dresses,” Tessa said, looking at the clock. “Don’t you have a fitting with Diorwyn in about ten minutes?”

“Oh, my goodness!” Finduilas looked first at the clock, then at the other ladies. “She’s right. We must fly. You’ll excuse us?”

Vieana, Averyll, and Eleniel all nodded and made agreeable noises. They watched as Finduilas and Tessa swept out of the room on the way to the fitting. Once they had gone, Averyll and Elen brought Vieana in on the conversation they had had with Betuli and Diorwyn. Vieana listened with a grave look on her face.

“So, it’s already spread through the servants’ quarters?” she asked. “And we know the guards have heard something.”

Elen and Averyll nodded.

“Betuli is going to speak with some of the servants, see if she can find out where their information is coming from,” Averyll told her. “Diorwyn says she has some friends here as well.”

“So, I guess we should go visit some of the fine ladies of Minas Tirith.”

Averyll nodded again. “That’s the plan.”

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

08-01-2003, 03:37 AM

"Preposterous, absolutely preposterous, what those women were saying." Síriel stomped one small foot on the pavement outside Tíriel's small house near the garrison where Gaerlin was head. It was, in Síriel's mind, far too modest a residence for the daughter and eldest child of the Ruling Steward, but it contented her sister, and she supposed that must be enough.

"Horrible," she continued, the rancor in her voice building. "To think we would sully our line with descendents of that man." She had heard whispers over lunch and she did not like the idea at all. "Denethor simply cannot marry her. We may know she's alright, but her public reputation will be utterly spoiled, Tír." Síriel's lower lip quivered as she pondered their disgrace should such a marriage ever happen.

Tíriel looked at her sister with a mix of amusement and disgust. "Síriel, do be reasonable. Nobody will believe such a ludicrous tale. You know Finduilas' descent as well as I do." Perhaps, she thought with a shock, she never paid enout attention to know Finduilas' descent. She never did care about schooling... Perhaps she thinks Finduilas really may be descended from the Usurper. "Sír, it's ridiculous. It really is. The Princes of Dol Amroth are part elven, even. They're as respectable as you and I. And this will all blow over."

With that said she went into the house, more determined to make Finduilas feel welcome. Of course such talk would be everywhere just now, it was just the jealousy of those catty women who had never deserved her brother anyway. But Tíriel was sure that after the marriage it would all die down and be forgotten. Síriel's blatant snobbery was something else entirely, what would she do with her sister?
************************************

Síriel turned back to the carriage to return to her father's house on the Seventh Circle. However, her disgruntled musings on Finduilas and her rumors was broken by a smooth male voice. "Lady Síriel! What a pleasure! Although you don't look very happy to see me..." A hand appeared in front of her. Following the hand up the arm revealed Thenidir, the soldier she'd admired from afar. His lips were still twisted into that ironic grin of his, but he was handsome as ever, and courteous at that.

"Good afternoon, sir." She said, with her widest smile. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

"Thenidir." He stated, stepping back and making an elaborate bow. "At your service of course." He extended his hand to her once again, and she placed hers in it, glad she had thought to wear lace gloves.

"Service?" Síriel giggled. "I don't suppose you could be of service to me, just now, thank you." Her heart raced in her chest as she spoke, and she flapped her long eyelashes against her cheek. He was so deliciously handsome, just what she liked, with his broad jawline and grey eyes sparkling at her.

"Allow me to demonstrate how useful I can be. I can hand you into your carriage, for a start." He said, with a quick wink, and proceeded to do so, tucking her skirt in around her as she sat and looked out at him. She nodded, and tried to look shocked at his presumption. "And I'm sure I can prove myself more useful still if you'll consent to go walking with me." His tone left no doubt that she would accept. Women always accepted when Thenidir proposed such an outing. Síriel did not disappoint him.

"Leave a card with my father's head retainer," she said, with the same exaggerated smile. "And I'll send a message right away." She extended her hand to him again and he pressed his lips to it briefly before spinning on his heel and walking away. A lot of cheek, that woman had, and not terribly well mannered. His eyes twinkled with fun. All the better.

Síriel spun in her seat and watched as he walked away, barely feeling the jolt when her coach started up to carry her back to her father's house.

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

Orofaniel

08-01-2003, 05:07 AM

Betuli had left the room to Diorwyn, without her dress. When she found out she was quite embarrassed. She ran over again and got her dress back. Diorwyn the seamstress had sewed some nice stitches where the large split had been earlier that same day. The dress was now as good as new.

***

In the evening Betuli, as planned, "sought one of the servants.

"Hi," Betuli said in kind voice as she reached the servant.

"Hello," answered the servant politely.

"How have you been?" Betuli asked after a moment with silence from both. "It's been quite some time since I've seen you." She continued.

"Yes, well, there are a much going on in these days. Today was the luncheon..." The servant said.

"Yes, you have a point there, I have been very busy myself lately. Duties are always calling..." Betuli said, interrupting the servant.

Betuli went quiet for a while, listening to the servant. She was beginning to get bored when she heard Finduilas name.

"What did you say?" She asked impatiently.

"You know the rumours, don't you?" The servant said. Betuli gave some short nods.

"So, where did you hear those rumours?" Betuli asked, she seemed excited and anxious to get the answer. Suddenly she noticed that she had been stearing in the floor for quite some time. She pulled herself together and looked up at the servant, waiting for the answer.

The answer, however, never came. The servant had rushed over in the other direction, screaming to Betuli that they'd have to talk later.

"Later?" She yelled back in a frustrated voice. "Later.....Later?" she muttered a bit angry.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

Arien

08-01-2003, 11:16 AM

Alethea climbed the grand stairs to her room. As she was walking down the corridor that lead off to the left she past Meirelle, who had just finished putting her things back into her bedroom, she smiled and nodded at the maid as she past and was met by the same. She kept heading towards her bedroom, but as she reached the magnificent double doors leading into it she veered off to the right and came face to face with a large book shelf. Alethea stepped forward and ran her hand along the middle row stopping at a red leather bound book. She pulled it out carefully supporting its weight with her other hand, the other books slid to take its place. She carried the book into her room, kicking the door shut behind her. She dropped the book on to her desk and sat herself down in the chair beside it. Alethea stared in the mirror across the small room.

This room was quiet small, and she never really used it at all. It was decorated with neutral colours, very plain and there was almost no furniture. Just a desk, a smallish double bed, a unused fire place, a wardrobe and a couple of chairs. Of course this was not her real room, her real room was concealed from any visitors she may have. And although her mother insisted that it was pointless Alethea having her room concealed as no one but herself should be entering her room, there were certain thing that she preferred to keep to herself. Plus you could never be too careful.

Alethea opened the book to reveal what seemed like a normal book except for the key hidden in the spine. She picked up both the key and the book and made her way to the wardrobe. She slid the key into the lock on the front. She opened the door while carefully balancing the book in her other hand and stepped through into her actually room. The door shut automatically behind her and she heard the click of the lock. Now this was more like it, seven marble steps lead down the floor, her room was open planned except for the washroom. This made her room extremely big. It took up nearly all of the west wing of their estate and was decorated in an Umbrian high class fashion. Lavish gold, and bronze material hung from the glorious windows which were across the wall facing the entrance to her room. Along the wall to her right were bookshelves which contained books on weaponry, to Elvish Lore, from tactical study books to herb lore. She had read most already and was aware of many of the cultures that surrounded her, as well as her own and her adopted one.

A little on from the book shelves were various cupboards that contained maps of Middle Earth, an assortment of poisons, herbs and weapons. The weapons consisted mainly of crafted daggers and knives as Alethea saw no need to carry other such weapons around with her unless she were to carry a sword underneath her corset! But in truth she was not too skilled in combat, she could maybe fight if she had to but Alethea preferred to stick to the more conventional method of fighting with her mind. After that came an assortment of comfortable chairs that were placed neatly around small tables.

And so directly opposite her was a grand fireplace, with its fire already burning. To her left was a marvellous four post king sized bed draped with bronze and gold fabric and a muslin bedspread. And all around the room was watched by huge paintings of Corsair heroes and noble women who were just like her mother, sister and herself. She wondered to the bed and threw down to book with its key. She walked into the washroom which had no windows but was dimly lit by the small fire place in one corner. She drew a bath for herself even though it was not even early evening yet. She climbed into the bath which was full to the brim with warm water and soap bubbles.

Now her thoughts trailed to Adrama who she had met earlier that day. The girl seemed much like her self, personality wise and she was excited to meet her again and discuss more why she did not like Findulas. Alethea had also said to that she too hated Findulas. Whether she had said it to encourage their friendship or whether she actually hated her was not yet decided on. But Alethea imagined that Adrama might be an asset, not as a device to use but maybe as a friend. She set in her mind that after she had bathed she would make her way outside to find Mierelle and bid her send a message to Adrama so they could meet the next day, in the public garden which was situated only a few minutes away from them both.

Everdawn

08-02-2003, 12:16 AM

Vieana was not in the best of moods. "Why would servants spread such things? Whatever happened to the good old days when servants kept things to themselves, Finduilas is after all, a guest."
she looked up at the others, Im beginning to think Minas Tirith isnt what we think it is after all."

Averyll put her hands on her hips. "You always see the best in everything, Sometimes it can cloud your intuition Vieana."

"What about Diorwyn, and Betuil? Perhaps we can set them amongst the Minas Tirith servants to seek deeper? Betuli especially, you know you can always count on her.?"

Vieana gazed out the window "And the guards, they know! Thats why they were so hostile, and untrusting. Oh i knew something was wrong! Diddnt I tell you Elen! We can try to get the guards to do some investigating of their own. I dont like the idea of scuffles between the Dol Amroth guards and Minas Tirith guards, if that hostility continues i may have to write to my husband." She concluded.

elven maiden Earwen

08-02-2003, 10:42 AM

“We have to figure out who’s starting these rumors” Elen, couldn’t take it. She thought in going to Minas Tirth she could escape her sister and start a whole new life in a wonderful city. But that’s definitely not how it turned out. Minas Tirth was a cold stone city. People were hostile to her and anyone from Dol Amroth. Eleniel snapped out of her thoughts and looked up to see a few people giving the group strange looks, probably wondering what they were talking about.

“I think we should discuss this in our rooms” she said standing up and walking slowly out of the room making sure that everyone else followed her.

Once inside the safety of the rooms the ladies began to talk again. Eleniel was so frustrated by all these rumors. She couldn’t think of what to do about them. The only thing she knew she needed to do was keep them from Finduilas and Tessa too.

“Well, we can’t rely on Diorwyn and Betuli alone. I think its time to do a little visiting on our own.” Averyll said with a gleam in her eyes.

[ August 06, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

alaklondewen

08-04-2003, 09:16 AM

After the Luncheon...

Pelien sighed with relief as she watched the last of her guests depart. The luncheon had provided a nice time for visiting with the ladies, but she was glad it was all over. What the younger ladies discussed concerning Finduilas’ identity and ancestry had given her much to think about. The idea of the Steward’s family not knowing the lady’s full history seemed a bit unrealistic, but if Finduilas’ name could be scarred in some way, the family might get rid of her anyway.

As her daughter questioned her thoughts, Pelien thought it best to agree with the expressed doubts. She, of all people, would not want to stand up for that wretched little princess, even to Adrama.

Pelien walked slowly deep in thought as she returned to her bedroom. Sador would be home soon, and she wasn’t sure what to tell him yet. On one hand, she’d love to share the new information concerning Finduilas with her husband, but on the other hand, she knew he wouldn’t stand for that kind of rumor coming from his wife. Maybe she should wait for him to hear it elsewhere…yes, then she would be so surprised when he told her. A clever smile crept across her face. She hated keeping things from Sador, but sometimes a man just can’t handle some information like a woman can.

Once in her private rooms, Pelien freshened up a bit before changing into a more casual, simple dress. She checked her reflection once more before going back down the stairs to ensure that the servants were cleaning up after the ladies. Pelien would not stand for a house that was anything less than immaculate.

An hour later, the front door opened and Pelien watched her weary soldier slip quietly through the door. She sat in her favorite chair in the sitting room and waited for him to find her. Sador unconsciously smiled when his eyes met his wife's, and Pelien stood to meet him. Rummel came and took his rolled up guard’s uniform to clean, and Sador crossed the room with his head tipped to one side.

“How was your day, Dear?” Pelien loved this time of day when Sador came home, but she masked her joy in a serious, unfeeling tone.

“It’s much better now,” Sador said as he kissed his wife on the cheek. Then without warning he hugged his wife and picked her up swinging her in a circle. Pelien was horrified and smacked at his back trying to get down. Sador just laughed and set her down.

“Sador! Wh..I never!” Being out of breath, Pelien could not verbalize the indignity she felt, so she straightened her skirt and hair and stormed away.

Novnarwen

08-04-2003, 10:07 AM

After a hard day at work Sador finally reached the door, he gave a soft knock before entering. He was glad to finally get home, and eager to hear how his wife's luncheon had been. Pelien sat in her favourite chair by the window. He crossed the room, smiling at her while she rised to meet him.

“How was your day, Dear?” His wife asked him in a sweet caring voice. He looked at her in admire and happiness. She was truly a great wife.

“It’s much better now,” he said giving her a kiss on the cheek. As he held her he just had to hug her. Sador felt the warmth from her body to his. Oh Pelien, he thought while picking her up from the floor swinging her in a circle. Her horrified reaction made Sador laugh.

“Sador! Wh..I never!” she said being totally out of breath. She liked it,
Sador thought, while watching her walk swiftly away. Her husband followed her.

"How did the Luncheon go?" he asked trying to be serious. She looked up at him, giving him an of-course-it-went-well look.

"It went well," she said giving a sigh.

Sador remained silent for a moment, trying to figure out if she wore a mask. "Are you sure, you seem..." He was interrupted.

"Of course I am sure. All my luncheons go well. They are my luncheons, you see." Pelien opened her mouth once again. "It was very nice, actually, it was splendid. Elegant, sophisticated, tremendous, fantastic...." This time it was Sador's turn to interrupt her.

"Are you sure? You have said it was nice in many ways now," Sador assured her.

Pelien stood stricken by his statement but reassured him that it was absolutely fine.
Sador however, thought it weird that his wife had seemed so eager to let him know that all was fine. His wife was good at these luncheons, but never before had she said something like this. There was something wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, Sador thought. Just something unusual. He stirred at her, watching her trying to see signs of something unexpected. Nothing.

"Okay then," he said taking a step forwards kissing her again on the cheek. "What did you talk about then?" he asked trying to read her mind. Pelein started muttering about Finduilas and Denethor. "Just the usual," she continued. "Just the usual," she said again. Sador nodded, and decided not to push her. There was something , he just didn't know what, yet.

[ August 07, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

*Varda*

08-05-2003, 03:12 PM

"This was a lovely luncheon," Elena politely said to Pelien, as she left. The Morthaniwens pulled away in their carriage, as Elena set off down the path to her home. It was only a few minutes walk, which hardly merited getting someone to drive her there. The afternoon sun shone on her, and altogether it would have been an enjoyable walk, if Elena had not been dwelling on other matters.

She had expressed her certainty over Finduilas' secret identity - the arguments in the luncheon had indeed been very convincing. Inwardly, she scolded herself - she should know better than to leap to conclusions so swiftly. What if Finduilas really was who she appeared to be, part of her argued. The larger part reasoned that there must be some truth to it all - this was not idle Minas Tirith gossip that the elderly women discussed over their afternoon tea. This was serious. And Elena could think of no one who would stoop so low as to spread these allegations. No, she told herself, they must be true. Resentment bubbled in her heart, as she thought of Finduilas. A stranger come into the court of Minas Tirith, to wed Denethor, to gain such power, and be lying all the time? Elena had little wish for this kind of power, being an unambitious person on the whole, but the idea of it irritated her.

But what were they to do? The Steward would never hear of this - he would pass it off as silly ideas among the more empty headed ladies of the court. She had not seen much of Siriel and Tiriel at the luncheon, but she doubted they believed the idea. No, if something was to be done, they would have to do it themselves. Arriving home, Elena swept up the stairs and into her pretty chambers, the sun bathing it in a warm light. Sitting at her small table, she rested her head in her hands and thought deeply, her brow slightly furrowed. The maid brought in a cup of tea and duly departed. Elena stared at the elaborate floral pattern, her eyes following it over the fragile crockery.

There was nothing to do but to meet with Finduilas. By and large, the women of Minas Tirith had done nothing but watch her from afar. Perhaps Finduilas' maids would have let something slip, if they knew about it. Calling the maid in, Elena spoke to her.

"Elsa? Have you heard the talk about Finduilas' identity? Have you spoken to any of her maids?"

"But yes, the maids have heard the rumours. I have not seen her maids - they seem to keep themselves to themselves," she answered.

"See what you can find out - it will probably be nothing, but they may forget themselves and inadvertently say something. " Elena dismissed the maid, and sipped calmly at her tea.

Nurumaiel

08-06-2003, 07:57 PM

"Mother, I'm going out!" Adrama called, pausing for a moment at the front door. She waited to hear her mother's reply, but there was no answer. "Mother!"

Pelien appeared at the door that led into the front hallway. She gazed curiously at Adrama, who was dressed in one of her best dresses with her hair carefully tended to. An embroidered shawl was about her shoulders, as it was drawing near to evening and growing a little chilly. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should refuse to let her daughter go. Something about the way she was dressed made her a little nervous. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"If you must know," Adrama said, opening the door and pulling the shawl closer about her shoulders, "I'm going to meet someone."

Pelien's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could speak Adrama interrupted, "Don't worry, Mother, it's a woman." She smiled reassuringly, then left the house, closing the door gently behind her. Pelien remained staring at the door for awhile, and then shook her head, turning to get back to what she had been doing previously. "A woman," she murmured with a little sigh. "Ah, what a pity."

Down the road Adrama walked, keeping her head down low against the cold air. She and Alethea had arranged to meet in a public garden that was a little less than half a mile from Adrama's house. However, Adrama was a very fit young woman and it would not be very hard for her to walk the distance in the space of a few minutes. Her only concern was wrinkling her dress, which had been specially chosen to impress Alethea. Not that Adrama thought Alethea was the kind to be too impressed by the clothes one wore, but it wouldn't hurt to make certain.

A few minutes later Adrama was seated on a bench in the garden, bending down to sniff a purple flower growing beside her. Glancing up, she saw a figure coming through the dim evening light towards her. She sat up straighter, and strained her eyes to see who it was. As the figure drew closer, Adrama saw that it definitely was Alethea. She gave a little wave of her hand to alert the other's attention, and Alethea waved back.

"Alethea," Adrama said, standing up and offering her hand. "It's rather good to see you again." Alethea took the hand offered to her and gave a little curtsy. Adrama, her eyes twinkling mischievously, gestured to the bench and said in her best high-and-noble-born-lady-of-Gondor voice, "Please, dear Alethea, won't you be seated?" Alethea smiled faintly back and the two of them sat down side by side.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Nurumaiel

08-06-2003, 08:02 PM

Arien's Post

It was two hours before tea was to be laid down and although Alethea knew this probably wasn't near enough time for her to get acquainted with Adrama even more, it would have to do. She had had Meirelle place out a simple rose dress for her and bade her farewell even though the girl had insisted on stay and helping her with Alethea's hair.. Although Alethea had a sneaky feeling that she wanted to know where she was off to. Alethea left the estate, curtsying to a guard placed outside of the gate. This wasn't necessary, but precautions must always be taken. It took her little over ten minutes to walk to the public garden where they were to meet. The orange glow of the sun dazzled her eyes as she walked and in truth she felt as though she was temporarily blinded. She smiled politely to those who she knew when they past by and the odd "Hello" and "How are you?" came from the passers by.

Alethea smiled and finally found herself at the park. She walked down a path and up ahead she saw a figure sat up a bench, as she drew closer she could see that it was Adrama and she gave a little wave. Alethea retuned the gesture. When she reached Adrama she was offered a welcome handshake and she took it and curtsied in return.

"Please, dear Alethea, won't you be seated?" asked Adrama in a noble voice, Alethea smiled faintly and sat down on the bench to Adrama. "How are you?" she continued to ask.

"Well, not much has changed since the luncheon. I am still in some what of a sombre mood but my mood has indeed been uplifted by our meeting, and of course my liking for the dear Finduilas has not gotten any better?"

Adrama raised her eyebrow, "Of course it has not... and if I am too bold tell me, but why do you hate Finduilas."

Alethea sighed, she couldn't exactly tell Adrama the truth, that would mean revealing her true identity and uncovering her mother and sisters plot to her. And Alethea was not that stupid, however there were a few other reasons that Alethea disliked Finduilas. And whether these reasons were helped by the wildly spun rumours or they were created for her own perception she had forgotten. But she was to tell Adrama anyway. "I think she is false?" she said it boldly and flatly, Adrama's eyes widened with a sort of intrigue, "this whole act she is putting on! Who does it fool? Her sweet smile, the air of innocence about her, even her beauty. She has fooled many of them, 'she is the perfect bride!' they all say over their over filled wine glasses and their overfilled heads. I don't know who she thinks she is fooling, but it is not I."

Alethea finished and gave a sort of cheeky smile to Adrama. Wow, she convinced herself she was describing Finduilas, or was she? She shook the thought from her head and continued, "And your reason?"

It was now time for Adrama to sigh, "Do not tell me you don't know!" she cried.

"You wanted Denethor?" Alethea queried, knowing all to well that this was the reason. Adrama nodded her head. Alethea gave a comforting smile. "Maybe we should move on to a different subject?" And so they did. They spoke for the full two hours that Alethea was available for. Conversation passed from their hatred of Finduilas to Dryea, and then to their mothers and various other women of the court. Alethea found that they did have much in common and although she was sure her mother or sister would condemn their friendship, because of Adrama's insignificance, that didn't seem to bother her.

"Well, this has been an interesting meeting" Alethea smiled at Adrama, "I would love to meet again sometime, but know I must go home and have tea with my mother and sister. See you again soon!" And with a small wave she was off and heading back to the estate.

Nurumaiel's Post

Adrama watched Alethea until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight. She knew her mother would be upset with her being out so late, but she ignored that thought and remained sitting on the bench. Because Finduilas was false? Adrama shook her head in confusion. Was Finduilas false? Or could it be that she had been fooling herself all along? No, it couldn't be, unless Alethea had also been wrong. Could they both be wrong?

Adrama's head sunk into her hands. Quiet desperation stole over her. She was so confused. Thinking of Denethor didn't upset her anymore... why? Her jealousy for Finduilas was still there, but it was gradually lessening. No, she couldn't have been that wrong. It had only been a little while since Finduilas had arrived. She couldn't have been that wrong. She suddenly felt like crying. She couldn't take much more.

She stood up, and, turning, made her way wearily back to her home.

[ August 16, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Ealasaid

08-07-2003, 03:50 PM

Back in Eleniel’s room, Averyll, Vieana, and Eleniel began to talk again.

“Well,” said Averyll with a gleam in her china blue eyes. “We can’t rely on Diorwyn and Betuli alone. I think it’s time we did a little visiting on our own. We need to get to know the ladies of the Minas Tirith court.”

Deep in thought, Elen and Vieana each nodded their agreement.

“We have to do something,” Elen sighed.

Averyll went to the bell cord and rang for a maid. “I’ll send a message to Lady Pelien and see if we might drop in on her. She told me at the ball that we all must get acquainted.” She winked at the other two ladies. “And, really, there’s no time like the present. Besides, she’s an older lady. Older ladies of the court usually know everything that is happening.”

Averyll went to the little writing desk in the corner and wrote a short note, which she handed to the maid when she appeared a few minutes later. Giving the maid instructions to deliver the note to Lady Pelien and wait for a response, Averyll watched as the girl curtsied and left, note in hand.

Then, she turned to Vieana. “Back in the dining room, Vieana, you suggested we fight fire with fire by starting some rumors of our own.” She hesitated. “Like what, for instance?”

“Well,” Vieana hesitated, too. “Well, I didn’t have anything specific in mind yet. I guess we could think of something… something really ugly that might distract them from what is being said about Finduilas.”

“Okay…” Averyll and Elen nodded. The three of them fell into silence, each trying hard to come up with a malicious rumor to spread.

Finally, Elen raised her hand. “I know! I’ve got one.”

When the others looked at her expectantly, she smiled. “How about this -- when she thinks nobody’s looking, Lady Emilia picks her teeth with her fan.” Elen’s face fell as the other two burst into laughter. Blushing, she shrugged. “It’s all I could think of.”

“I know!” laughed Vieana. “But, I think we need something a tad more serious. That sort of thing might raise a few eyebrows, but it would hardly be considered fighting fire with fire. I mean, after all, they are implying our lovely Finduilas is a pirate or some such nonsense. We should come up with something comparable.”

“But, about whom?” asked Averyll. “Lady Emilia seems like a harmless little thing. Why pick on her?”

“Well, why not?” asked Vieana. “Who knows what they are saying about us.”

Averyll shrugged. “But it’s mean. What if she gets hurt by it?”

Vieana shook her head in exasperation. “That’s the point, Averyll. They are trying to hurt us. We should hurt them in return.”

Averyll still looked unconvinced, but she stopped arguing. The three fell into silence again. Several minutes passed before Vieana raised her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got it. We can say it about Lady Dryea --”

“But the Morthaniawens are all so nice!” objected Elen. “Lady Dryea was especially friendly at the ball. And she looked so pretty in her crimson and cream gown. I wouldn’t feel right saying anything ugly about her.”

Vieana gave Averyll a dark look that said plainly, “Now, see what you started!”

Averyll made a slight grimace and looked at the floor. Vieana continued, “Well, Alethea, then --”

When Elen, again, opened her mouth to object, Vieana threw up her hands. “Who, then? Who can we start a rumor about if you two like everybody so much?”

Elen closed her mouth again and slumped in her chair. “I really don’t like this,” she mumbled.

“What’s the rumor?” asked Averyll suddenly. “Maybe we should start there.”

“We could say that one of these ladies’ grandmother was a Haradrim slave girl, and that her grandfather bought her off the back of a caravan.”

“Ouch,” said Averyll softly. “How about Lady Elena, then? She has dark hair. It might set people to talking. Does anyone know anything about her family? I mean, we can’t start rumors about her grandmother if her grandmother is someone everyone knows.”

Vieana nodded. “That’s why I suggested one of the Morthaniawens. They claim to come from Dol Amroth. Since that’s where we come from, people might be more apt to believe us. Plus nobody here would know their granny. At least, I wouldn‘t think so.”

“All good points,” Averyll agreed. “But wouldn’t that hurt us more? To attack the truthfulness of some of our own countrywomen? It would make all of Dol Amroth look like liars.”

“Oh.” Vieana sighed. “Another good point. We’re back to teeth picking with fans, I guess. If we can’t attack their lineage, what else can we say?”

“It’s just a rumor,” said Eleniel quietly.

“What?” asked Averyll, turning toward her. “What do you mean?”

“I said, it’s just a rumor. We can make it as wild as we like. The wilder the better. Nobody’s really supposed to believe it, are they?”

Averyll and Vieana exchanged a glance, then all three ladies began to smile. Eleniel definitely had a point.

Everdawn

08-08-2003, 02:20 AM

Vieana had thought thats she was on a roll with her ideas, but whenever she suggested someone, they were rejected. Its not as though im wanting to do this out of spite. thought Vieana. Its just vengence. And after all, one of these women are fueling a fire for Finduilas.

“I said, it’s just a rumor. We can make it as wild as we like. The wilder the better. Nobody’s really supposed to believe it, are they?” Elen replied.

"thats right!" exclaimed Vieana, "After all, whywould they believe it. Dear Eru Elen, why is it that I couldnt think of that!" Vieana sat on a chair thinking.

"Though both of you have worn out my brain, I dont usually scheme against other women like this you know. If any of my sisters saw me now. Well, im guessing that would say 'its about time!' Vanroch, you know, the worst of all of my sisters. If I can remember correctly, sent a tale about my eldest sisters Viendala and Viendiel, just becuase they took her favourite dresses."

Vieana paused. "And then when both of them hushed it, Vanroch spread another about Viearen, who of course told my last sister Vanawen, who told my mother (she always does) and mother took away all their outside priveleges for a week. Vanroch got two. But I on the other hand got nothing, just becuase I am so good."

"But Alas! I guess the blood of the six siters rund through my veins also, therefore, it is not my fault that I should try to retalliate to such rumors. Its only natural." Vieana laughed.

"So youre not the innocent flower you always make out to be." Averyll replied. "Oh, I am still that my friend, I just dont like bad things being said about my friends."

"Then who do you propose we spread tales about then Vieana, since you were the one who planted the idea in my head." said Elen.

"I told you, I am out of ideas, I have nothing!" Vieana sighed.

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

alaklondewen

08-08-2003, 07:14 PM

Can the man not leave well enough alone? Pelien was getting irritated with Sador. She’d told him several times that her luncheon was nice, but he just wasn’t having it, and she wasn’t about to tell him about the rumors concerning Finduilas. Relief struck when Adrama’s voice called from the front of the house.

“Excuse me. My daughter needs me.” Pelien straightened her back and lifted her chin as she passed her husband without meeting his eyes.

Pelien was surprised to find Adrama beautifully dressed with a shawl around her shoulders as though she was ready to leave. Suspicion grew in her mind, and she hoped she wasn’t going to meet with Addruran. That boy wasn’t good enough for her, but maybe another young man had asked to see Adrama.

When Pelien inquired about where she was going, Adrama admitted she was meeting someone. Before Pelien could stop them, her eyes widened. Maybe there is a new beau…he’d best be from noble blood, or I’ll never let… Her thoughts were interrupted when Adrama assured her mother she was meeting with a woman. Pelien opened her mouth to reply, but Adrama was out and the door was closed securely behind her. Pelien reached out and softly touched the door with her finger tips. “A woman…ah, what a pity.”

Turning, Pelien entered the dining room where the ladies had eaten early that afternoon. The table was cleared and things appeared to be in proper order. Pelien ran her finger along the edge of the frame of a portrait of her mother’s sister, Prumiel, and then frowned at the dust that was stirred.

“Rummel! Rummel!” That girl had some more work to do, and Pelien was not at all pleased. Rummel appeared within moments and stood before Pelien with her head slightly lowered. “Can you tell me what this is?” Pelien held out her dust covered fingers for the servant to see.

“It’s dust, Madame.” The girl swallowed hard as she answered.

“Do you know where this…dust…came from?” Pelien stood at least three inches taller than Rummel, and she used her height for intimidation purposes.

Rummel was obviously nervous and she shook her head slowly not wanting to look up and meet Pelien’s expression. “You don’t know. I would hope you’d know every inch of these apartments by now and would know where you clean and where you don’t.” Pelien spoke condescendingly without raising her voice. “I’ll tell you where this…this…grime was found. It was here.” She pointed one long finger toward the portrait. “What if one of my guests had rubbed against it? Her dress might have been ruined!”

As Rummel nodded, a soft knock was heard at the door. The girl looked up, over to the entrance with relief and then back at Pelien waiting for permission to answer the door. Pelien waved at her to go, and Rummel returned a minute later saying that a messenger was here to see the Lady Pelien.

A messenger? Pelien wondered who would be sending a message…maybe the Steward’s daughters had had such a lovely time they sent a messenger to invite Pelien to the palace to tea. That must be it, she smiled inwardly thinking about tea at the palace with the Steward.

A thin girl, an obvious maid of some sort, waited patiently by the door. She curtsied when Pelien entered the room. “Lady Pelien, the Lady Averyll sends a message.” The girl stepped forward and handed Pelien a folded piece of parchment. “She asked me to wait for a response…” She might have gone on, but Pelien’s glare put an end to her talk.

Pelien unfolded the paper and held it out almost to arm’s length to read it. The note read as follows:

Dear Lady Pelien,

I was pleased to make your acquaintance at the welcoming ball, and the Ladies Vieana, Eleniel, and I would like to get to know the influential women in Minas Tirith. I, of course, thought of you immediately and would like to pay you a visit. Please give all the information to our messenger.

I am sincerely looking forward to our visit.

Yours truly,

Averyll

Pelien’s eyes looked back over the words ‘influential women in Minas Tirith’ and thought, of course she thought of me. So, the Ladies from Dol Amroth wanted to come to Pelien’s home. This might prove to be an interesting meeting.

“Tell Lady Averyll that they may come here to my home, tomorrow, two hours after the noon bell rings for tea and refreshments.” Pelien was intrigued at the idea of talking with women from Dol Amroth, and she wondered whether they had heard any of the rumors flying about. The messenger curtsied once more and left.

Pelien turned around to find Rummel still standing behind her. “What are you doing here? Get that dirt and grime out of my house. I want my home spotless before those women arrive tomorrow. Go!” Rummel nodded her head and hurried toward the kitchen.

[ August 08, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Manardariel

08-09-2003, 06:14 AM

"What is the matter with you?"

Tessa shook her head at Averyll, Vieana and Elen, who all swung round like children caught doing something very, very, naughty. The three had been crowding themselves beind a small window of one of the turret rooms, apparently looking out of the window.

"Brilliant day, is it not?" Elen asked, sounding breathless.

Tessa raised both eyebrows. "Yes, right...is there anything else to see down there? Oh, and Averyll, what have you got to do with that stuck-nose Pelien woman?"

The effect of those simple, casually spoken words was far more than even Tessa had intended. Vieana turned pale, Elen blushed furiously. Averyll stared at Tessa like she´s just turned into a fluffy, white bunnyrabbit. "How...How do you know?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"I just saw your "messenger" return. The poor girl asked me to give you her message, for she had to return to the kitchens as soon as possible." Tessa smiled cat-like, letting her eyes wonder over a stummering Elen, a chalk-white Vieana and Averyll, whose lips were closed very tightly.

Vieana shot the other two a quick, inquisitive glance. Averyll barely visible shook her head, cleared her throat and turned to Tessa, apparently trying to look relaxed and casual. She was failing miserably. "So, what was the message she asked you to pass on?"

Tessa grinned. "Congrats, my dears. You´re invited for tea and refreshments. Tomorrow, two hours after noon. Honestly, what are you three up too?"

"Oh, nothing." Elen said, maybe a little to quickly. "We´re just...socializing. Meeting new people. You know."

"No, I don´t know!" She was getting annoyed. "Look, I don´t know why you want to meet that robed and jeweled general of a woman, but listen to this. Remember last year, the whole sea-captain affair? It was people like your lady Pelien who wanted to abadon Finduilas from court, and do you know why? To make their own daughters more powerful. Woman like that are snakes. They think of their own interests- and usually those aren´t very healthy for other people. So, if you are convinced to go to that little tea-party, be my guest. But if either of you end up poisend by that snakes fangs- or, as a matter of fact, her tea- don´t say I didn´t warn you!"

She stared at the others, her eyes glittering menacing. They had better tell them what was happening here. Tessa wanted to know. Tessa needed to know.

Child of the 7th Age

08-09-2003, 07:34 PM

Eckthelion stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair, staring grimly at the pile of missives stacked in front of him that threatened to topple over onto the floor. The golden orb of the sun hung high above his head. It was surely close to noon, yet he'd made little headway on the urgent matters of state crying out for his attention.

He'd found it difficult to focus on the mundane intricacies of governance with his thoughts so often distracted by all the doings at court. The welcoming party for Finduilas had been followed by a maze of chatter and intrigue that seemed to fill every crack and crevice of the palace, even affecting his own dear daughters. Ecthelion generally shut his ears to such nonsense and longed for older, simpler ways. Yet as Steward, that was a luxury he could ill afford. With no throne or sceptre or crown, the ruling line of Anárion relied on the visual image of the court with its carefully maintained decorum to buttress their right to govern.

Still, all the intricacies of court could not disguise the fact that the shadow of Mordor was creeping ever closer to Gondor, a development that would inevitably lead to war. If and when that sad day came, Eckthelion was stubbornly determined that his people would be prepared to stand firm and weather the assault.

Eckthelion wearily placed his hand on his brow as his eyes drifted down to a special missive that had been brought to him by a courier just that morning. He would read this one with care. Of all the outside agents that he employed, and there were a great many, none could match the keen instincts and wise words of this strange fellow also in Theoden's following who went by the name of Thorongil. Respectfully dubbed the 'Eagle of the North' by those who served under his command, the man seemed to possess an uncanny knack for inspiring his companions to stand firm even when outnumbered and in ferretting out secrets that were clearly dangerous to the best interests of Gondor. Thorongil's instinctive grasp of where and when the agents of Mordor would strike made him someone of inestimable value. It was scarcely surprising that in most matters the Steward found his own opinions concurring with those of the Eagle.

Eckthelion picked up the sheaf of vellum before him and, spying Thorongil's personal hand, scanned it with particular interest. After reading the contents, he sat back and sighed, shaking his head in bewilderment and frustration. Why would the man not leave off with this one topic, the only matter of state on which the two of them did not agree? Once again, Thorongil was urging him to take up arms and strike out against the fleet in Umbar and, once again, Eckthelion would pen a polite reply outlining the exact reasons why he felt this to be a dangerous course.

Despite his enormous respect for the man, the Steward was not about to be herded into adopting an overly risky stance, not until he felt beyond any doubt that Umbar would stop at nothing to see Gondor fall. He did not regard Umbar as a deadly peril in the same sense that Thorongil did, for he still hoped that differences between the two states could be settled by some means other than armed conflict.

Eckthelion drew out a fresh sheet and scrawled a response, folded it over, and appended his seal, which took the form of a white tree in blossom beneath seven stars. Then he sat back again in deep reflection. Later today or tomorrow he needed to speak with Denethor regarding his bride-to-be and the activities planned at court for the coming week.

Denethor had said something about Finduilas voicing a shy plea that the family sponsor a masquerade ball prior to the betroval party in hopes that she could make some headway with the women from Minas Tirith who'd acted a bit cool and distant. For the most part, the two lovers seemed totally enamored with each other and paid little heed to everything going on about them. Eckthelion could not help but smile to see the softening effect that the gentle girl from Dol Amroth had upon his usually dour son. He was grateful that, for once, matters of state and matters of the heart seemed to coincide. So, if the couple asked the Steward to plan a masquerade at court, he would do everything in his power to comply with that particular request.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

maikafanawen

08-10-2003, 12:57 PM

It was a quarter of an hour until tea when Ruiel joined her oldest daughter in the garden. She had changed as well into a comfortable brocaded gown of a black and gold combination and moved easily through the flowerbeds to where Dryea sat reading, shaded by her parasol.

“Hello daughter,” she said pleasantly. Dryea raised an eyebrow at her mother’s newfound geniality. “I have finally figured out the ingredient Aunt Idella uses in that poison powder of hers.” Dryea looked at her vacantly. “You know, the one that looks like ordinary salt? Anyhow, it’s the best sort. It triggers the moment the victim falls to sleep making it look entirely unobtrusive.” Ruiel seemed so pleased with herself, Dryea decided to keep things on an even level and not to upset her.

“Would you care to have tea outdoors this afternoon?” Dryea posed indifferently. Ruiel acquiesced and Alethea was summoned to join them and the slight repast was served. The three exchanged opinions on the fluidity of the luncheon. All together they were very pleased with the outcome and didn’t have any worries.

“How did you find Pelien’s daughter, Alethea?” Ruiel asked innocuously. Unaware that the two had spoken at all during the luncheon, Dryea faced her younger sister as she spoke.

“She was decent enough,” Alethea replied halfheartedly. “We seem to have a lot in common.” The youngest Morthaniawen took a sip at her tea, hoping that would be the extent of that topic.

“Adrama?” Dryea pursued. “I didn’t notice the two of you canvassing. What could she possibly have to talk about?”

“Enough to stifle an hour and a half of pointless talk between the older ladies,” Alethea said coarsely. “She’s really a very pleasant girl.” Dryea narrowed her eyes and leaned back, abandoning her tea as she lashed back at her sister.

“Of all the ladies you could have chosen as an ally you pick her!” she fumed, trying not to yell so loudly. “You could have done some good by choosing someone of higher influence! Getting Adrama to spread rumors is about as pointless as—well everyone knows of her infatuation with Denethor so no one will take her seriously.”

“You’re one to speak of allies, Dryea. What good is Rhir to our cause?” Dryea froze, immeasurable vehemence written on her face. She looked nervously at her mother whose eyes were becoming an angry dark shade then back at Alethea. The last thing she had ever expected was for Alethea to speak degradingly of Rhir in front of Ruiel. Their mother hated him for his interference in their plot and would probably do anything to dispatch of him. Every bit of discredit she could find, Ruiel threw at Dryea trying to persuade her to break their escalating relationship.

Dryea glared at Alethea who sat smugly in her chair, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Alethea,” Ruiel began slowly and deliberately. “You have brought up a very important point.” Dryea sat petrified in her seat, her cup in her right hand held above her saucer in paralyzed apprehension.

Ealasaid

08-10-2003, 01:59 PM

“…but if either of you end up poisoned by that snake’s fangs - or, as a matter of fact, her tea - don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Tessa stared menacingly at the three conspirators. Only Averyll managed to meet her gaze. Finally, with a shrug and a nod to Elen and Vieana, Averyll took Tessa by the elbow and guided her to a distant corner of the room, away from any doors, tapestries, or listening ears.

“It’s because the Pelien woman is a snake that I seek her out,” she said quietly. “What I am about to tell you is of the strictest confidence. You must swear not to breathe a word of it to your sister. Can you do that?”

Tessa eyed her suspiciously.

“We are trying to protect Finduilas,” Averyll explained carefully. “I only ask you to keep these things from her so as not to cause her undue stress. Of course, she may find out eventually, but, for the moment, we need to exercise the utmost of secrecy. Will you swear?”

Tessa hesitated a moment to think. Finally, she agreed. “I swear I will keep it secret from Finduilas only so long as I think it would be of benefit for her not to know. Will that do?”

Averyll nodded, satisfied. “Those are our conditions exactly.” Still speaking quietly, she told Tessa the entire story of the increasingly pervasive rumors regarding Finduilas’ lineage, the smirks of the guards, and the gossip that flowed unchecked amongst the servants of the citadel. As Averyll spoke, Tessa’s expressive features grew increasingly grim. When Averyll explained her own unplanned excursion into the servant’s quarters to speak with Diorwyn, Tessa smiled gravely.

“So, that’s where you went during lunch,” she commented. “I thought you were gone an awfully long time.”

Averyll smiled. “I had to do something. And, knowing how close you are with your sister, we had to agree to keep things from you as well as Finduilas, in the hopes of keeping the both of you above all of this…this scheming.” She sighed. “But if you must know about all of it, perhaps you can help us.”

Tessa glanced over toward where Vieana and Eleniel waited anxiously. “Have the three of you come up with a plan, then?”

Again, Averyll nodded. “Such as it is.” She beckoned to the other two ladies, who quickly joined them. “Our plan,” she told Tessa. “Is two-fold. Firstly, we are trying to find the source of the rumors. If we have any success, perhaps we can discredit the individual at fault and save our Finduilas’ reputation quietly, without making a great fuss about it at court.”

“And secondly?” prompted Tessa.

“Secondly,” chimed in Vieana. “We hope to spread enough wild rumors about the various ladies of Minas Tirith that no one will notice what is said about Finduilas. They will all be too worried about their own reputations.”

Averyll nodded. “No one will know what to believe about anyone, and, with a little luck, the entire thing will blow past with no lasting ill effects against anyone.”

Tessa gave her a long, considering stare. “And where does this Pelien woman fit in?”

“Tomorrow, two hours after noon,” answered Averyll, with a grin. “But, seriously, she represents our First Assault. We hope to find out what we can -- subtly, of course -- about these rumors. Failing that, we hope to plant a few of our own.”

“You have chosen a formidable target. Perhaps I should come along, too.”

Elen reached out and took Tessa’s hand. “Yes. Do!” She exclaimed. “Having you with us would most certainly be to our advantage!”

“Yes, indeed!” agreed Averyll. “You have clever mind and a quick tongue, both useful qualities for this little endeavor. I shall send a second note to Lady Pelien, accepting her invitation and advising her that you, too, will be attending. Agreed?” She looked around the faces of the other three ladies. When all three had communicated their acquiescence, she smiled. “Then I believe I have a letter to write!”

“And the lot of us have some serious planning to do,” added Tessa.

Everdawn

08-12-2003, 07:25 PM

Tessa had come in some minutes before, and had learned about their venture to Pelien's house. Vieana was frozen to the spot. Averyll, thank eru, was there to explain what was going on. Yes, Vieana was not good at explaining her plotting. Infact she was becoming more ashamed by the minute. She could tell that she had gone pale again, she did when she was nervous.

She was too busy listening to her own heartbeat when Tessa spoke up "Woman like that are snakes. They think of their own interests- and usually those aren´t very healthy for other people. So, if you are convinced to go to that little tea-party, be my guest. But if either of you end up poisend by that snakes fangs- or, as a matter of fact, her tea- don´t say I didn´t warn you!"

She was right, they were snakes, all of them. And Vieana was not so innocent of it either, Vieana's sister Vanroch was one of the ones who looked down slightly on Finduilas after last year, and Vanroch was a snake.

Averyll lead Tessa away from where people could hear, while Elen and Vieana sat chewing nervously on their nails. Every few seconds Vieana glanced at Elen, who she guessed was feeling the same as she was, and at Tessa and Averyll. After much talking, Tessa promised to keep this a secret. To which Vieana was much relieved.

"I cant help but feel guilty now..." Vieana spoke as the ladies sat speaking about the coming meeting. "I mean, Lady Pelien, is well, a ladyof this city. Are you sure we are not out of our depth?... Just a little?"

"Hush Vieana! think about it later, then it wont matter so much." Elen said. "Honestly you worry too much!"

Vieana put her hand up to speak and then put it back down. "How long?" Vieana asked.

Manardariel

08-13-2003, 06:04 AM

“Girls- girls can I have a moment alone?” Tessa asked, her voice hoarse. “I promise I won´t tell Finduilas anything.” As if I could! As if I could repeat anything they said to her!

Tessa hastened out of the room and up the stairs. Through a corridor, another one- she barely knew where she was going when she came out on the balcony of the northern turret. From here you could see all of the city: It´s white mansions in the higher rings, the citadel, but also the small houses, the mighty walls and towers of guard. Was it really the sharp wind that blew tears to her eyes? Tessa stared south. There was her home. The crowing of the gulls, the salty taste on her lips. Ships and seagulls. Merchants and nobeles. The laughter of children in the streets. The rumble of waves, the soft call of “farewell” every sailor knows.

“How can they hate us so much?” Tessa asked aloud. No one answered. No one, no one is this city will listen to us. It´s hopeless!

The sun had begann to set over Minas Tirith. Red and golden streakd, mixed with pale pinks and a deep scarlet painted the city. It was beautiful- but to Tessa, it was disgusting.

“Beauty lies in the eyes of that who looks.” She said, fury rising inside. She looked at the city once more her arms raised as if she was casting a spell. “And you are UGLY!”

*******
“So, what´s the plan for tomorrow then?” Tessa asked Averyll. They were at dinnertime, Tessa having declined Finduilas offer for a stroll and a late meal afterwards. She didn´t think she could bare to look her sister in the eye. Finduilas had looked suprised, but not hurt or something.Tessa, on the other hand, didn´t think she could bare it. But she had to, it was for Finduilas´ own good! She had come to resolution with herself: she would fight, fight for Finduilas honor and her own pride.Right now, she was listening to Averyll telling her about tomorrow. And how she should behave. “And remember Tessa: be good. No comments, no loud laughing, always smile and keep your opinion to yourself.” She nodded bravely, but inside she felt sick. Nervous, and disgusted. [I]An interesting mixture![I/] Tessa felt her good spirits coming back, and knew: she would not give up.

[ August 13, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

elven maiden Earwen

08-13-2003, 10:29 AM

Elen was sitting on her bed trying to figure out what had happened. They had told Tessa about everything, and she promised not to tell Finduilas. I can’t believe I turned so red when Tessa came in and asked what was going on. Averyll and Vieana left soon after Tessa had, so Elen sat alone in her dark room.

Elen stood up and walked to her window. She flung open the curtains and let her gaze wander across the city. The sun was setting and the sky was an array of colors. It was a wonderful view when sunbeams hit the edges of the buildings turning them many different colors. I wish I was back in Dol Amroth. I wish none of this had ever happened. Elen wanted to leave this city. After all the cruel things the people said about Finduilas Elen could never think of making this place her home for many years.

The sun was now almost out of sight and they sky started to darken. She realized how hungry she was. She quickly put on a nice light pink dress and tied her hair back in a white ribbon. She closed the drapes and hurried out of the room. She slowly wandered the corridors until she found the dinning hall. When she entered she noticed Tessa and Averyll sitting together so she went and joined them.

She got some food and drink but barley touched it. She didn’t pay attention to what Averyll and Tessa were talking about as she was wrapped up in her own thoughts. She thought back when she was younger. As the middle-child she always had to do the chores in the house because Melanie, her older sister made her and her brother was to young. It was in this time she started spending time away from her house and then she met Finduilas and Tessa.

She hadn’t seen her mother or father, ever since she moved to Minas Tirth. She had still lived with them before she moved as she was only 18 but she hadn’t even talked to them in a while. I should go visit them, if Melanie has a husband by now, or if these rumors ever get cleared up, she thought. These stupid rumors. They made her so mad. Finduilas was a wonder person and she wasn’t an imposter. Whoever started these rumors had a lot of nerve to do so. And call her and imposter! It was downright stupid.

Something that Tessa said snapped her out of her thoughts.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow then?” Pelien! Elen had totally forgotten about there little tea party tomorrow.

“Um... I’m going to go to my room” Elen said quickly excusing herself. She had to go figure out what she was going to wear. After all they were going to talk to a very important lady ion this city. She might know something about these rumors.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night Eleniel lay in bed, waiting for sleep to overcome her. The moon shone softly though her open curtains, the breeze felts light and pleasant and it blew though her open window. It was a peaceful night and Eleniel couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t go asleep. Something was bothering her but she couldn’t figure out quite what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Eleniel woke up at dawn. She threw on a silver dress and headed outside to take a walk and clear her mind. She was slightly nervous about meeting Pelien. She just hoped she didn’t slip up and say something stupid or embarrassing. She took a walk though the empty streets of the city passing by huge mansions and small houses. As she turned to head back towards the citadel she was amazed at the sight see saw. The citadel glistened in the sunlight and it was beautiful.

When she got back to her room the people of the city were just waking up. She watched for a while as the people bustled around getting ready for another day of work. She went and had some breakfast, which consisted of mostly fruit. When she returned it was late morning and she decided it was time to get ready.

Elen pulled out a beautiful cream and ivory dress. It had attractive designs on it in the likeliness of stars. She dressed quickly pulling the dress over her head. She added a silver brooch that looked like a star to her outfit. Elen stared into the mirror. She hadn’t worn a dress so beautiful since the welcoming party. When everyone seemed to like and accept them.

She brushed out her long black hair and pulled it into a tight twist. She put on a silver necklace and earrings. Now what to do. It would be a couple hours until they would leave for the party. Elen pulled out a book she had on a self and started to read. Hopefully that would pass the time.

[ August 15, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

alaklondewen

08-14-2003, 09:43 PM

Pelien watched the front door intensely waiting for it to open and produce her daughter, who happened to still be gallivanting about for all her mother knew. The sun had already sunk into the west, and Pelien sat like a panther waiting for her prey. Adrama had left suddenly that afternoon…a little too suddenly, and her mother wanted some answers. She also wanted Adrama to know her presence would be required at tea time tomorrow.

Fifteen minutes later, which felt like three hours to Pelien who had yet to take her eyes from the entry, the door inaudibly opened and Adrama slipped in looking around toward the stairs and into the kitchen until they rested on Pelien. The expression on the older woman’s face would have wilted a flower and Adrama stood with her back to the door, speechless for a moment or two before greeting her mother as though nothing was amiss.

“I’m tired, Adrama.” Pelien remained stiff, unmoving, and never let her eyes stray from her daughter’s. “Do you know why I’m tired?” Adrama looked down at her feet and shook her head. “I’m tired of working hard to keep this family respectable in the eyes of the community, and I’m tired of having to clean up after the messes you make of your reputation.”

Adrama looked up and tried to protest, but Pelien held up her hand to silence her. “This will not happen again. Now, we will be having guests tomorrow. Some of the ladies from Dol Amroth want to visit with some of the most influential women in this city, and they of course contacted me.” Pelien finally let her daughter’s gaze go and looked down at her nails holding one hand out with her fingers spread. “As my daughter, you will be in attendance. I will not have these ladies think you are out doing…whatever it was you were doing today that kept you from your home after dark.”

Adrama nodded while Pelien rose and told her daughter goodnight. As she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, she wondered whether she’d been too hard on the girl, but then dismissed the idea. Adrama needs discipline and a firm hand if she is too follow in my footsteps, she thought as she reached for the handle to her bedroom door.

******************************
Pelien rose early and moved to the dining room where Sador was already sitting, enjoying his hot cereal. Rummel came immediately and took Pelien’s breakfast order and returned several minutes later with a tray of pastries and orange tea. Sador seemed to be in a good mood and talked idly of politics and state affairs. Pelien remained relatively quiet, responding when necessary, and only listening with one ear.

“Honey, the tea party…are you looking forward to it?” Sador’s voice grabbed her attention, and he must have been talking to her without her knowledge.

“Oh, yes, it should prove to be an interesting time.” A smile crossed Pelien’s face that was full of mischief as she looked into her husband’s face. An interesting time indeed, she thought.

Nurumaiel

08-15-2003, 11:33 AM

Adrama's face grew pale as her mother scolded her and she began to tremble with anger at the injustice being done to her. If her mother knew, she might actually be pleased that her daughter was associating with Alethea. However, she listened, trying to hide her frustration, and nodded mutely when her mother finished. Pelien gave her one last look and left the room.

When she was certain her mother was gone, Adrama walked over to the nearest chair and kicked it. Her mother thought she was ruining her reputation. "Let my reputation be ruined," Adrama said between clenched teeth, her breath coming loud and hard. "I don't care at all. Let her think I'm a little brat. I don't care what she says."

Feelings began to overwhelm her, and she threw herself down on the chair she had previously been kicking. Her mother wanted her to be at tea tomorrow? Well, how would she feel if her daughter wasn’t there at all? Unable to speak clearly, Adrama said in barely a whisper, "Does she think I'm still a child? I'm twenty-five years of age. I'm not a child. If I want to ruin my reputation, I will. It's my decision now, not my mother's."

And it was all Finduilas' fault. What was this sudden barrier that came between Adrama and her mother? They had been such good friends before Finduilas had entered the scene. They had never been so tense around each other. If only Finduilas had never come, if only Denethor still...

"Stop!" Adrama nearly shouted. "You mustn't think of that or you might burst into tears." But then the feelings from earlier that evening came. Thinking of Denethor didn't upset her as much anymore.

She sat there a few minutes more, contemplating the idea of running away or kidnapping Finduilas and other silly, childish ideas. She never would have carried them out, but imagining it all brought her great comfort. At last she stood up and made her way slowly to her bedroom, stopping for a moment to say good night to her father. She didn’t say good night to her mother.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Novnarwen

08-16-2003, 02:36 PM

It was early in the morning, quite a nice day, Sador thought, while eating his hot cereal by the breakfast table. He had tried not to think of his wife's reaction towards his questions about the luncheon. What was really going on? he wondered, but didn't dare ask his wife. Sador didn't want her to believe he of all thought she was a bad host for such fine ladies Pelien invited. If she said it had been an interesting and enjoyable lunch, he had no reason to doubt it, right? He shook his head trying to relax feeling quite a relief when his wife appeared and ordered breakfast.

He looked at his wife, pretending to be in a very good mood. The truth was that he was more annoyed by the feeling he had; that something was wrong. Sador started talking about politics. He always did, when he was in a good mood. He pretened now, but anyway, it would make hime feel better if his wife believed he was happy. After intense talking about the coming steward and how his chances for being as remarkable as his father he stopped, setting his eyes up on his wife.

“Honey, the tea party are you looking forward to it?” She seeemed surprised, as she hadn't been following his theories regarding politics.

“Oh, yes, it should prove to be an interesting time," Pelien giggled. Sador didn't know if he understood the answer he had got. But it was enough for him, for now anyhow.

[ August 16, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Ealasaid

08-16-2003, 06:49 PM

Averyll spent most of the morning wandering aimlessly from room to room, deep in concentration. From time to time, she would take a seat in this room or that one, then rise again and begin to walk. She could always think better when moving. She just wished she had some chore or work with which to occupy herself, but there was none. The servants were quite efficient. No sooner did she pick up a stray feather duster or stoop to fluff a pillow than a smiling chambermaid appeared at her elbow all too ready to take over for her. Finally, she had to give up and content herself with walking.

As Tessa had been all to quick to point out, the Pelien woman was, indeed, a snake and a formidable target for a first foray into the trenches, so to speak. It worried Averyll if the other girls would be up to the challenge. She was not terribly worried for herself. After all, following the death of her wayward husband, she had had to settle accounts with quite a mixed bag of creditors and opportunists, everything from angry tailors to professional gamblers. Keeping that in mind, she did not feel particularly threatened by a befeathered and bejeweled Lady General of the court. What she did feel was frightened for Finduilas. It was Finduilas' future and reputation that were at stake, not her own, and a woman like Lady Pelien could truly wreak havoc with that. Averyll knew that she and her friends would have to keep their wits about them.

After a light lunch with Tessa and Vieana, during which all talk of the upcoming tea was carefully avoided, Averyll retired to her room to dress. Every detail must be carefully attended to. Lady Pelien had a sharp eye and would notice any sign of carelessness nad, if she was like the other ladies of her ilk, carelessness would be seen as a sign of disrespect. Still only a few months out of formal mourning, Averyll chose a dress of white and a pale pearl gray. As befit her station, it was elegant of cut, suiting Averyll's slim figure well, but fairly plain of decoration. She hung a delicate silver chain around her neck from which dangled a single, perfect black pearl. Finally, she twisted her chestnut hair into an elegant chignon. She was ready.

She joined the other three ladies in the sitting room down the hall. Each was beautifully dressed and coiffed, suitable for a dinner with Eckthelion, himself, not merely afternoon tea with a viper. She smiled at them approvingly.

"You all look perfectly lovely," she said, glancing to each nervous face in turn. "That was the first step. Now that we have our armor in place -" she winked at Tessa "- we must make sure of our strategy. And, remember, we must not let her see we are nervous. She will be on to you like a shark on to a wounded halibut, at the first sign of fear. If any of us see another of us floundering, we must go to her assistance immediately. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said the other three, not quite in unison.

"Good." Averyll smiled again. "And remember to smile! This is a social call. We must appear light and breezy and pleasant, not nervous and frightened. And we must not cross the line from breezy and pleasant to silly or empty-headed. We are trying to win this woman's respect, not her scorn."

"Right," Vieana agreed. "My husband has always said that if one wishes to succeed in battle, one must exude confidence."

"Exactly," agreed Averyll.

"Are we going to repeat any of those awful rumors?" asked Elen. "The ones we made up."

"Only if we have to, I would think," answered Tessa. "I am more interested at the moment to see if we can find out more about these things they are saying about Finduilas. I would very much like to know where those things are coming from."

Averyll nodded. "I think that is our first objective. We must see how things progress from there. If you are uncertain of what to do or say, then follow my lead. I have dealt with worse sorts than this Lady Pelien. Shall we go, then?"

"We might as well get it over with," sighed Eleniel. With that, the four ladies gathered their shawls about them and summoned their escort to depart.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

Child of the 7th Age

08-16-2003, 08:00 PM

Eckthelion sat hunched over the large table in his study sorting though an assortment of dispatches that had arrived earlier that morning. His own breakfast tray was tossed aside untouched as he tried to make sense of the plethora of petitions and complaints that had come flooding in that day. So many concerns and affairs to supervise, so many indications that the agents of Mordor were strengthening their forces and would have to be dealt with one way or the other.

There was a time when he was younger when things were not so difficult. He could remember exactly when everything had changed. It was the year when Mount Doom had burst into flame, and the inhabitants of Ithilien had fled before Sauron's wrath, just a few months after his own father had died, and he had taken over the stewardship of Gondor feeling only partially adequate to the task. His whole policy and feelings had been shaped by those events, and he was doing everything he could not only to strengthen Gondor, but to pass those beliefs and priorities on to his son.

Eckthelion glanced up as the door swung back and Denethor came striding inside with a respectful nod to his father. His son, a man of some forty-one years, a full fifteen years older than his bride-to-be, had always been proud and serious, deeply concerned with affairs of state. The father had every reason to be well content. Yet still, he had a feeling that there was a hardness there, a chill in the heart that all his paternal love and affection had done nothing to dissipate. Perhaps, the gentle young Finduilas would do a better job bringing a bit of sparkle to his son's stern eyes.

Eckthlion cleared his throat and pointed down to a message on the desk, then looked over at Denethor, "Another message from Thorongil. He warns of Umbar's threat, and how we would lead a party against the Corsairs and set fire to their fleet."

Denethor looked uneasily over towards his father, "And you? What would you do?"

Eckthelion rasped back an answer, "You know my policy on this. I have not changed my mind. The risk is too great. And, even more, I am still hopeful that another way can be found to bend their hearts."

Denethor visibly relaxed to hear his father's words. "You will answer Thorongil then?" The agent's name was spoken with underlying vehemence.

"Aye, I will write him and say that we will continue our policy of watching and waiting. A policy of caution, not aggression. Meanwhile, we will continue to build our forces and gain all the allies we can."

Eckthelion pushed the paper aside and looked deep into his son's eyes, "And you, how are you doing with the delightful young lady of Dol Amroth? Do you find her as charming as you first thought?"

A unexpected brightness filtered over Denethor's face as he turned towards his father, "I am well pleased. She is sweet and young and her eyes sparkle with a light that is different than any I have seen. Yes, I am well pleased. Only I was wondering.... I wish to please her. Have you given thought to what I spoke of the other day?"

The father bent down to unlock a drawer and rummaged around before pulling out a square sheet of vellum and handing it to his son, "Here it is. What you asked for. A masquerade is to be given at the palace two days from now in honor of the bride-to-be. I have ordered the messengers to take and deliver these invitations to all the families who frequent the court."

A full-fledged smile spread over Denethor's visage as he reached over and scanned the sheet. "Thank you, father," Denethor wholeheartedly replied. "I know Finduilas is truly looking forward to this. She hopes the ladies will be a bit more relaxed than last time, and that she'll be able to win a friend or two." He bowed briefly and then turned about to make his exit.

As the door clanged shut, Eckthelion looked up and sighed. Would that all his problems were so easily solved! Then he glanced back at the pile of dispatches waiting on his desk and continued sifting through them.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Elora

08-17-2003, 12:55 AM

Oh but it had been a long night!

Ruiel paced her chambers restlessly, yet to summon a maid or make a start on any of the other beginnings that entail morning for nobility. Her daughters had retired at each other's throats and neither particularly fond of their mother. Alethea had been severely cautioned about girlish chatter with Adrama. Pelion could easily be more than an irritation if Alethea did not carefully monitor what she mentioned to Pelion's daughter. Ruiel had, however, found cause to praise her youngest daughter.

Provided she stepped carefully, Adrama could be a useful source of information and an invaluable contact within one of Minas Tirith's most noble households, aside from Morthaniawen. Ruiel absently added the house of the Stewards to that list. Ruiel was not, however, given to excesses of effusive praise and Alethea was a sensative as her fool father had been. Little good it would do her, and of little avail had it been to him.

Compared to Dryea, Alethea had received glowing approval. It unfolded, thanks to Alethea, that her elder daughter had been seeing a great deal more than Ruiel realised. Deception and omission rankled her when it came from her own blood. Ruiel was somewhat nonplussed by Alethea's preparedness to betray her sister's confidences so readily. Dryea had not accepted Ruiel's words calmly. In the end, open rebellion caused Ruiel to send both daughters at great speed to their rooms. Dryea went with the threat that a watcher would be appointed to ensure that lout of a soldier Rhir did not find any other opportunities.

Unfortunately, that proved the least of Ruiel's concerns that night. Rebellious and love sick daughters were the least of her concerns. After the disasterous tea in the gardens, Ruiel had stalked back to her private office in a dark cloud. She had doffed the Gondorian garb there, and wrapped in a soft robe of finely woven indigo silk, golden iris woven through it, Ranne had dared to venture in.

That was when things truly started to become nothing short of infuriating. In their time spent at the Citadel, a number of correspondences had arrived. Ranne had swiftly sorted through them. When a report that bore a rare mark of identification came to her attention, she had quickly passed it to Ruiel. The Lady Morthaniawen's irritation at Ranne's interruption of her review of lineage charts faded when she saw the mark.

It was the words of that report that haunted Ruiel still by the light of the early morning. The Steward was being pushed to launch war against Umbar. With weddings and other high spirits, it just may happen. Men did such things as launch wars when they felt enlarged with good fortune and therefore invincible. Should war launch in the coming months, Umbar's navy would be decimated. A chill sat in the pit of Ruiel's stomach as she considered this.

A tap sounded at her doors and Ranne entered tentatively. She peered through the darkness of Ruiel's bedroom, the drapes still closed at the window.

"Good morning, m'Lady," Ranne ventured. Ruiel did not reply and simply waved the woman on. Familiar with her mistress, Ranne knew that at such times it was best not to disturb or intrude further than was strictly necessary. It was not the first time that grim or urgent news had come to the Estate and they had always emerged at the other end of matters in a favourable position.

As Ranne straightened the room and set out a gown for the day, Ruiel thought furiously. Her orders, and they were exactly that, had been clear and from no less than the highest lord of Umbar. Gondor must not strike and she was to set all she had at her disposal, including the lives of her daughters, household and herself to see this done.

There were a number of options to speed things up. Morthaniawen could perhaps hold a hunt, where something untoward would unfold. Perhaps a scandal or a tragedy to devestate Eckthelion and Denethor. It was not a subtle as Ruiel preferred, but it was an option. As Ranne tightened the bodice laces of a delicate green silk dress, Ruiel found herself loathe to make such a direct and vulgar move. Someone would be bound to notice if Findulias was pushed from her horse. Outrage would simmer, as would grief. The woman would be idealised instead of disgraced, and the esteem in which the Stewards are held would only rise in the minds of a populace.

Better to make war impossible due to internal fractures and unrest. Civil strife was far easier to spark and control. Besides, they already had laid the groundwork for exactly that with the rumours. Something Alethea had said about Adrama in the prior evening shone in Ruiel's recollection.

"After breakfast summon my daughters to my day room," Ruiel said. Ranne nodded, wincing at the tone.
"Do so pleasantly, Ranne. The time for displeasure is past. Umbar is to band together now if ever," Ruiel added as she saw Ranne's expression. The maid nodded, her expression lightening as she realised her new task was not to haul the sisters in for another roasting.

Ruiel remained in her chambers after Ranne had left. She cast a glance at the mirror and saw her reflection thrown back at her. How fine it would be when the day arrived that she no longer had to wear the charmless and dour garb of Gondor and instead wore Umbar's finest cloths made into gowns of office. With a thrill of dangerous excitement in her eyes, Ruiel fancied she could sense that day approaching.

The long years spent first in Dol Amroth and then Minas Tirith were coming to fruition at last.

alaklondewen

08-17-2003, 08:53 AM

As the morning wore on, Pelien watched Rummel like a hawk and roamed the housed with a white glove inspecting all the nooks and crannies for dirt missed by the young servant. Rummel asked no questions when dust was found, but with her head lowered she would detail the area while Pelien stood over her. The girl was a good worker and always showed respect, but if she wasn’t watched she would get lazy, and Pelien would not have that.

As noon approached, Pelien had yet to see Adrama come down from her room. Either the girl was rebelling and staying in her room, or she was being careful to avoid Pelien.

“Rummel, I will be having lunch on the balcony today. I need you to inform my daughter that her presence is wanted.” Pelien and the servant stood just outside Pelien’s bedroom. As soon as Rummel had her orders, she curtsied and returned down the hallway toward Adrama’s rooms.

Pelien entered her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. Crossing the room, she opened her armoire and shuffled through the gowns hanging neatly in a line. Although she wouldn’t have admitted it, Pelien wanted to make a good impression on the ladies. They would have to see her as important to the community and an influential member of the court. The older woman thought about this as she selected a gown. She did not want to seem overly casual, yet this was only tea on a mid-week afternoon. After careful deliberation pulled a black and white dress from its hanger and laid it gently across her bed. This dress and its color would show her status and that of her husband’s as a tower guardsman.

As she stood over the bed, a light knock came from the door. Pelien knew it would be Adrama, and she called for her to come in. Without turning around the older woman could hear the door creak and then her daughter’s slippered feet pad across the floor.

“Hello, Mother. Do you need me for something?” Adrama had waited to speak until she was at her mother’s side, and although Pelien had yet to look at her, her gaze was felt by her mother.

“Yes, I thought it would be nice if you joined me for lunch on the balcony.” Pelien finally turned to her daughter with a bright smile. To be honest Pelien felt a smidgen of guilt for her reaction to her daughter’s late arrival home the night before, and although she still believed in strict discipline, after a night’s rest she knew she could have been gentler with Adrama. “I’ve already ordered two fresh salads that should be delivered anytime.”

“Yes…that sounds nice.” Adrama smiled at her mother in a way that lightened Pelien’s conscience. “Is this the gown you’re going to wear this afternoon? It’s lovely.” Adrama reached down and stroked the fabric running her fingers along the hem.

Pelien nodded in agreement as another soft knock was heard at the door. Adrama crossed the room and opened the door for Rummel who was carrying a large, round tray with two covered plates. The servant carried the tray out to the balcony and set it on the tall, round iron table that was situated in the right corner of the long balcony.

“Shall we?” Pelien took her daughter’s hand and they ladies walked slowly out to their awaiting meal.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

08-17-2003, 12:04 PM

Meirelle returned from helping Alethea dress for the meeting with Adrama to her empty quarters for a quick fix of her uniform. When she peeked into the looking-glass, she gasped in horror. Wisps of hair had come apart from her usually neat braid and were floating about her head. Her dress had a few stains on it and had a rip in the side, where she had caught it on a door handle and pulled too hard to get it free.

She quickly changed her dress and took her hair out of the messy braid. She brushed it rapidly and braided it up again. As she did this, she noted that from being braided every single day, her hair was gaining a permanent wave to it. Smiling at this, she headed back out of the quarters and to the kitchen to help prepare dinner.

As she stepped inside, the warm fragrances of cooking food invaded her nose. Servants and cooks bustled to and fro inside the busy kitchen and Meirelle was nearly trampled more than once. She was tapped on the shoulder by a harried-looking woman, who said, "Miss, please watch those potatoes in the oven! Make sure they don't overcook!" and hurried off. Meirelle opened the oven and checked on the potatoes, which seemed to be cooking nicely. She decided to strike up a conversation with the maid beside her who was stirring a pot of thick stew.

"Hullo, miss," greeted Meirelle cheerily. "I'm Meirelle. Would you like to chat a while?"

The maid looked at her and smiled, saying, "My name is Thela. It would be nice to chat with you, as we have a while until our food is cooked. Where do you hail from, Meirelle? I reside here in Minas Tirith, and I am a maid of the castle."

Meirelle answered with "I am a maid of the Lady Dryea, the Lady Alethea and the Lady Ruiel. We have come to witness the wedding of Finduilas and Denethor."

Thela drew in a sharp breath at the name of Finduilas, and Meirelle was delighted to hear her distress. Had the rumours reached her yet? Casually, she asked, "Why, Thela, you seem distressed. Would it please you to tell me what is wrong?"

Thela looked about suspiciously, and leaned closer to Meirelle, whispering, "Have you not heard the rumours?"

Meirelle pretended to be surprised and asked, "What rumours? Tell me!"

Thela told a surprisingly detailed explanation of Finduilas' "false" identity and who she "really" was. Meirelle pretended to be shocked more and more with each word. When Thela finished, she asked, "Is-is this true?"

"Everyone thinks so, m'lady Meirelle," answered Thela, who hurriedly turned back to the stew which was close to boiling over. That reminded Meirelle of her potatoes and she pulled open the oven and peeped inside at them. These potatoes are baking beautifully! thought Meirelle, as she turned them over and covered them with more sauce.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

Nurumaiel

08-17-2003, 07:09 PM

Adrama suddenly smiled widely as her mother’s hand grabbed her own and held it tightly. Tears of joy threatened to come to her eyes, so with her free hand she brushed her eyes quickly. The evening before it had seemed like their fight was the end of the world, but now her mother loved her again.

She lifted the skirt of her dress up to a little below her knees so she could walk more freely, but at her mother's disapproving look she let the skirt fall down to her ankles again. The skirt of the dress was dark blue and very flowing. The top was white and long-sleeved. There was a green leather jacket that was split in the center of the center with a long strip of leather crisscrossing over the white shirt up to the top of the jacket, which was a little below the collar of the shirt. Adrama had gone to have her hair fixed early that morning, and now long dark curls spilled down her back.

"Mother, you do look very lovely yourself," Adrama said softly. She hesitated a moment, then spoke again in a faltering voice. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't know I would be gone so long. But I swear, Mother, I was doing nothing dishonorable."

Pelien made no answer, but slipped her arm around her daughter's waist. Adrama took this as a sign of agreement and reassurance, but the truth of the matter was Pelien was at a loss for words, because she didn't know if she could accept what Adrama had just told her.

As they went out onto the balcony, Adrama left her mother's side for a moment to look down at the street below. Her dark eyes fell upon Addruran, who was passing by, and a sorrowful sensation passed through her. "I miss him," she said, going back to her mother.

"Who?" Pelien asked, pulling out a chair for her daughter.

"Addruran." Adrama sighed wistfully and sat down. Her eyes were cast downwards, and she looked quite the picture of woe.

"He comes to see you all the time, but you always send him away."

Adrama didn't answer for awhile. Would her mother understand? "Well, you see, he's not the same anymore." And Pelien left it at that. They began their lunch.

alaklondewen

08-17-2003, 09:20 PM

Pelien and Adrama had a lovely lunch. It reminded Pelien of the small tea parties she and her daughter would have when Adrama was a small girl. They would dress in their beautiful gowns and bring out the best tea set, and then the mother and daughter would sit at the table, Adrama’s legs dangling from her chair, and talk about the affairs of state. Pelien smiled inwardly as she remembered her daughter sitting up so straight and proper, trying to be the perfect little lady she was born to be.

As soon as they finished their salads, Rummel was summoned to clean off the area and to help Pelien dress. The servant tightly laced Pelien’s corset and then helped the woman into her gown. Looking in the mirror, the older woman touched her waist with her hands and turned from one to side to the other. She was aging, but she still had a nice figure…not to large, yet not tiny, tall and proud.

Pelien came down the stairs just as the guests arrived. The young ladies stood in the corner, close together, almost giggling nervously. Pelien noticed immediately and saw their behavior as a weakness…their inability to keep control over themselves.

“Ladies, welcome to my home. This is my daughter, Adrama. I’m not sure whether you were acquainted at the ball.” Pelien motioned to her daughter as Adrama took her place at her mother’s side.

“Thank you for letting us come here today, Lady Pelien.” The first of the young ladies approached the hostess. Pelien nodded as she looked the girl over. She seemed to be older than the others, slightly. Her thick chestnut hair made her stand out from the others, but Pelien liked the fact that she seemed more aggressive and looked her in the eyes without nervousness. “My name is Averyll. I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.” While Pelien raised her chin in acceptance, Averyll offered her hand and slightly curtsied. Averyll then motioned individually to the other ladies behind her. “Lady Vieana…” This lady seemed younger than Averyll with her small frame, blonde hair, and cool gray eyes. “…Lady Eleniel…” Eleniel was a beautiful young woman, whose long lashes and black hair made her appearance strikingly unique. “And here is Lady Tessa, the Lady Finduilas’ sister.”

Finduilas’ sister is she? Pelien thought smirking at the girl who appeared to be the youngest in the group. Tessa stepped forward and took Pelien’s hand. The young woman was strong, and Pelien could see fire in her eyes. Next, she offered her hand to Adrama, and as Pelien looked at her daughter, she saw the color drain from Adrama’s face.

After the introductions and greetings were made, Pelien led them into the parlor where she took her usual place in the high backed, floral chair. The other ladies were seated on the matching rose couches that faced one another. Rummel brought a large vase with fresh seasonal flowers and set it in the middle of the coffee table. Soon the tea was delivered and the ladies began daintily sipping from their cups and chit chatting about the weather and other unimportant topics.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Arien

08-18-2003, 12:33 PM

Alethea awoke early in the morning, and rolled out from underneath her covers as soon as her eyes were lifted. Alethea bathed and she quickly got dressed in to a white, laced dress with three- quarter length sleeves, and a skirt that casually fell to the floor. Her hair was brushed quickly while she opened the curtains to reveal the first lights of the morning creeping up on the city. She soon cast the bush aside on a near by table and headed for the door out into her smaller unused room, remembering to collect the key and book. She shut the door behind her and headed towards the doors that lead to the main corridor. Swiftly she placed the book back in its position, with key and all in it. And so she made her way down to the kitchens. Hardly anyone was waking yet and the large house was deserted. Its large painting glared at Alethea as she walked down the stairs on towards her destination.

As she rounded the corner she bumped into Ranne. “Good morn Ranne…” Alethea smiled pleasantly. She nodded gratefully in return and hurried off. Alethea turned to see where she was off to in such a hurry, it looked as though she was headed to her mothers room. No doubt she would want to speak to her daughters again this morning, well at least maybe to criticize Dryea again. Alethea was also surprised at herself, that she was so ready to sell her own sister out to her mother without a second thought. Or maybe it was to get back at her for her distasteful words against her and Adrama’s new friendship. Whatever it was it was strange. She had always loved her sister dearly and never would she have dreamed about doing such a thing. But then she thought back to what she had said to Adrama in the Park:

“I think she is false. This whole act she is putting on! Who does it fool? Her sweet smile, the air of innocence about her, even her beauty. She has fooled many of them, 'she is the perfect bride!' they all say over their over filled wine glasses and their overfilled heads. I don't know who she thinks she is fooling, but it is not I."

Had that really all been about Finduilas or….or was it Dryea she was talking about? Alethea didn’t want to think about, she didn’t know why she was thinking this about Dryea, her sister….her elder sister. The one she had always looked up to, that she always loved. Alethea could see no immediate reason why she would do this to her, but in the back of her mind something nagged slightly to be revealed. But Alethea shunned it away. That kind of thought would be scolded by her mother and sister and would not be any kind of asset to their plans. She shook it off and carried on down the corridor until she reached two large oak doors, which behind the kitchen was concealed.

She opened them slowly and looked around. A few of the maids were here, in fact all excluding Ranne. Alethea walked in a waved to Meirelle and sat down on the large wooden table where some raw vegetables were lain out. “Good morning Meirelle…” smiled Alethea to the maid as she cracked eggs into a frying pan over the boiling stove. Meirelle nodded back to her as she was quite busy with what she was doing, less she wanted to scald herself and Alethea certainly did not want that to happen to her and she some how suspected Meirelle did want it to happen either. Gwen and Rhe where also helping around the kitchen, and Gwen brought Alethea a cup of hot tea.

“Thank you Gwen,”

“That is ok Miss…” Alethea rolled her eyes slightly at the mention of Miss, but not disapprovingly. In an instance she flashed a smile at Gwen who looked rather embarrassed and quickly added, “….Alethea.” Alethea then stayed for a little while and finished her tea. She watched the m cook for a while and joked and conversed with them until Ranne came in and announced that Alethea was late for breakfast. Alethea gave a small sarcastic smile to Meirelle who laughed and then she was off to the dining room. She got their quickly as it had to be situated near to the kitchen, for obvious reasons. Alethea entered to see just Dryea sitting down at the table. A pang of guilt struck her and she wondered if she should apologise to her. Hesitating for a while they sat in complete silence. It was Dryea who broke it.

“Mother wishes to see us when we are finished, Ranne informed me just before you joined me.”

“Great….” Alethea murmured into her omelette. Dryea had heard, Alethea was informed of this by the clatter of Dryea’s spoon on to her china cup. Alethea slowly looked up to meet her sister face with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, it is great…” she boldly said, her eyes full of anger, “And these meetings are serious! If you are too childish to realise that then don’t bother…..!” she trailed off.

“Don’t bother what!” Alethea’s temper soared.

“Coming….trying to do anything! You could put this whole thing in jeopardy! You and your childish friend…Adrama…”

Alethea rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up..”

“No! Can’t you take anything seriously, is it all such a chore for mother special little girl?!?” Now she was shouting.

“Look!” Althea was shouting as well, she had even got up from her seat. “I’m sorry! Just let it go, I didn’t mean to tell her about him, I’m sorry!”

“But you did!……What are you jealous!” this was getting childish now, Dryea had realised that way back, although it was still dawning on Alethea.

“Please I’m sorry!” Alethea couldn’t believe the words coming from her mouth, why was she seeking forgiveness? She knew why, she loved her sister and didn’t want to upset her, but maybe this time she had gone too far. “Please, be quiet….just..”

“Fine, I will.” And Dryea left. She left. It shocked Alethea, they had never shouted like since they were young. Alethea slouched down into her chair, her head spinning from what had just happened. Why would she argue like that? Either of them for that matter they both knew better. Alethea sighed and took a drink of water and then made her way to her mothers rooms.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

Ealasaid

08-18-2003, 03:41 PM

As the tea progressed, Averyll was pleased to see that despite a rather shaky start her companions Tessa, Vieana, and Eleniel had managed to conquer their nervousness to a large extent and were fulfilling their roles beautifully. As the tea was sipped and the cakes daintily consumed, the conversation slid effortlessly from the weather to the relative merits of Minas Tirith over any other place in Middle Earth and, finally, to yet another rehashing of the welcoming ball. It was Tessa who first broached the topic of the rumors. Putting her delicate china teacup aside, she looked pointedly at Adrama.

"Everyone has been perfectly charming," she said in answer to a question from Adrama. "But we have noticed a rather shocking rumor flying around regarding my sister."

"Lady Finduilas?" asked Adrama, her face going several shades paler. She already appeared upset at the presence of Tessa, but being confronted so bluntly by the rumors, the young woman seemed positively ill. For a fleeting instant, Averyll was afraid Adrama might faint. Noticing the girl's reaction, Averyll cut a quick glance toward their hostess, Lady Pelien, who seemed to be holding her breath. The older woman's eyes had acquired a steely glint that Averyll had not noticed before.

Adrama cast a nervous glance at her mother. "I-I can't imagine what you are talking about."

"Then you must be the only one who hasn't heard it," Tessa continued in a light tone of voice that was undercut only by her piercing hazel eyes. "Even the servants are repeating the most ghastly falsehoods. I thought that influential and well-placed ladies, such as yourselves, would surely have heard all the talk and might even be able to tell us where such nonsense might have come from."

"Yes," chimed in Vieana. "Surely, you must have heard something."

Helplessly, Adrama shot another look toward her mother.

"Fiddlesticks!" barked Lady Pelien, coming to her daughter's rescue. "Idle gossip is the stuff of chambermaids and charwomen, well below both our station and our concern as ladies." Her sharp eyes traveled from face to face amongst the four Dol Amroth ladies. "I'm shocked that you would even bring such a thing up."

Tessa colored slightly and dropped her eyes, while Elen and Vieana looked as though they would have been happy to drop their teacups and flee the room.

Averyll smiled pleasantly and took a sip of tea as Pelien's steely gaze reached her. "Of course, you are absolutely right, Lady Pelien," she said smoothly. "Such things are far beneath the concern of all of us. But -" she let her blue eyes twinkle mischievously "- we have heard some of the most interesting things since arriving at court."

"Did you know, for instance," Averyll continued. "That Lady Elena's grandmother was a Haradarim slavegirl?" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Her grandfather bought her right off the back of a caravan! Isn't that fascinating?"

Pelien drew back as though she had been slapped. "That's utter nonsense!" Her teacup clattered against the saucer in her hand. "I've known Lady Elena since she was a baby and her mother before that. Her grandfather wouldn't even know where to find a caravan if his life depended on it."

"Oh!" Averyll's eyes widened innocently. "Well, it was her father's mother, from what I understand..."

"Yes!" exclaimed Vieana. "I heard that, too. I think she was a dancer of some sort."

"Was she really?" asked Adrama breathlessly. "How ghastly for Elena!"

Pelien put her cup and saucer down on the tray with sharp clink. "That's enough!" she snapped, looking daggers at her own daughter, whose face closed like a book. Adrama sunk visibly lower into the rose-colored couch. "I've never heard such rubbish."

"Oh, but it's hardly rubbish!" protested Tessa, rejoining the fray. "I heard it, too, from one of the most reliable sources!"

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

08-19-2003, 02:01 PM

Síriel rolled out of bed earlier than usual, the sunlight falling in strips over her pillow and shaking her from her dreams. Muttering under her breath about Tíriel and her strange desires for light and fresh air, she rose and closed the curtains, returning the comfortable darkness to the room. However, her solitude was shortlived, as a rustling in the hall soon alerted her to the presence of the chambermaids. A soft knock on her door brought her to her feet again, and she crossed the room lightly, pulling on a silver housecoat as she went.

The girl outside looked tired, her dark hair was disheveled and her eyes ringed in purple. Early morning didn't agree with her either, Síriel thought wryly as she took the two folded notes from the tray in the girl's hands. "Thank you." The girl curtsied and scurried away as Síriel was left standing in the doorway looking at the two folded slips of paper.

The first was in her brother's even hand. She unfolded it quickly and read the contents. Denethor was her little brother, and their old comeradeship was still remembered at times.

Sister Sír-
How does a masquerade ball sound to you? A little advance notice perhaps, for you to choose a costume.

Two red feathers dropped out of the folds of paper and into Síriel's hand. She squealed with glee, how wonderful of her brother to let her know the news a little early. What would she wear? She rushed to the closet, nearly dropping the second note in her haste. The second note. Síriel paused, looking at the crisp letters on the front of the note. The hand was unfamiliar to her, and she unfolded it slowly.

Lady Síriel,
As per your request, I am sending this up with your father's chamberlain. Would you care for a short walk with me in two days time at two in the afternoon? We still have the unsettled matter of the value of my services between us.
Thenidir of the Guard

Biting her lip with excitement Síriel flipped the note over and scribbled hastily on the back:

Dear Sir- It seems we have much to discuss. I shall meet you in my father's garden at the appointed time.
-S.

Ringing the bell for a maid, Síriel paced the floor impatiently. Once this note was delivered she must pick a walking costume, and once she was properly attired, she must choose a gown for Denethor's ball. There was simply too much to do, too much to do...

By half past eleven on the day she was to meet Thenidir, Siriel was looking her best. Her straight dark hair had been bundled into an elaborate twist on the back of her head, with the two red feathers stuck in at an attractive angle. She wore a flowing dark red skirt with black embroidery and flat black slippers. Her blouse was black and fitted with long sleeves to protect her white skin. A parasol was all she needed now, before her outfit was complete. This one will do, she thought, pulling a red and silver sunshade from her closet and unfolding it experimentally. She placed it over her shoulder and gave it a melodramatic twirl. Yes, it would do.

Biting her lip with barely suppressed excitement, she turned to her ball gowns. So many choices, and she had so short a time before dinner.

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

Manardariel

08-19-2003, 02:51 PM

"I heard it, too, from one of the most reliable sources!"

Tessa took a sip of her tea, trying not to snort in her teacup. This was just too funny. She let her eyes wander over her hosts. Pelien looked impatient, fluttered, disbelieving. But there was something more. Tessa could just see the brain- work going on behind her elaborate hairstyle. Come on, believe is! It is likely, come on! Tessa silently pleaded. She sat the teacup down, and watched Pelien. The lady seemed to seriously consider what she had just heard.

“What I wonder,” Pelien said. “Is that nobody has found out about this before.”

Vieana started to cough on her biscuits. Tessa quickly patted her on the back, asked the bystanding maid for a glass of water and looked Pelien straight in the eye.

“You see, what I think is that many people just do not care for the rumors. I mean, surely the noble, influencial ladies like yourself have better things to discuss than such idle talk. At the provincial court back in Dol Amroth, yes, that´s another thing. You see, we´re used to finding out things like this. At a boring court like in Dol Amroth, it´s all you can do before being bored to tears, if you see what I mean. But here, in the political center of the country...surely, you talk about politics and such with your friends. We country girls, know so little about all that... I hope we haven´t bored you with all this!” Tessa finished with a half embaressed sort of head-hanging, trying hard not to burst out laughing at Pelien´s very forced smile.

Instead, she turned her attention to the young lady Adrama, next to her. She was a pretty lady. Tessa guessed her a bit younger than Finduilas, though there was something around her that made her look girlish and vulnerable in some sort of way. Tessa couldn´t quite tell what it was: maybe having to live with a cobra as a mother? She coudn´t imagine Pelien being a very loving mother, couldn´t see her embracing her little daughter, couln´t imagine Adrama coming to her with a bloody knee or a mean dream to tell. There was a hurt in her eyes, a pain of some sort that made her gain Tessa´s sympathy. The younge girl frowned- before coming here, she had thought her parents were demanding. That was nothing, nothing against these women. She decided to keep a close watch on Adrama for the next few weeks.

“You know,” Adrama said. “I think it really is a pity about Elena though. She´s a bright girl, and friendly, too. I just hope this doesn´t go into the public, she wouldn´t deserve it.”

“Yes,” Tessa sighed, and this time what she said was not an act or a lie. “We can´t choose our families, can we?”

******************************************

Elven maiden Earwen's post:

The tea party was going quite well, Eleniel thought as she listened to Averyll converse with Pelien. She hadn’t spoken much during the whole party. Tessa was quite right. Pelien was a Cobra. At least twice Elen was ready to drop her cup and run. But her daughter Adrama didn’t seem so bad. A beautiful woman she was. Probably only a few years older than myself.

Eleniel took a dainty sip of tea. She listened to what the girls were saying. She had to hold beck her laughter as they said something about Elena. Elena was a nice woman, but, as much as she liked the girl she still thought what they were saying was quite rude, but funny.

“We can’t choose our families, can we?” Elen straightened up at this comment by Tessa. A pity it was she thought. She took a small bite from her biscuit. There was an awkward gap in their conversation and Elen couldn’t think of a thing to say. She couldn’t help but hope to leave soon.

[ August 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Nurumaiel

08-19-2003, 03:47 PM

Adrama felt her eyes narrowing as she listened to the conversation. And suddenly she felt very frightened, too. She didn’t know why, but Tessa was frightening her. And because she didn’t know why, it frightened her even more. She moved closer to her mother, touching her arm and then feeling reassured. Fear turned into anger towards Tessa. Adrama was a very sharp young woman, and she could sense that Tessa and the others were secretly laughing at her mother.

And then when Tessa had tried to frighten her… Adrama wondered why she had acted so afraid moments before. What did she care if Tessa found out how much her sister was hated? Adrama suddenly had a good mind to tell Tessa exactly what she thought of Finduilas, but her mother’s presence kept her from it. Annoyed, Adrama bit her lip, but she had to admit that would be ruining her reputation.

I wish Mother had never thought up this tea party, Adrama thought, trying to keep her anger from showing. Or if she had, I wish she hadn’t invited such utter fools. And I’m not going to stand for all this attacking on my mother. Stiffening her back, she opened her mouth to say, “And I, Lady Tessa, never thought that such high and noble people like yourselves would immerse yourselves in such spitefulness.” However, before the words could leave her mouth, she saw Tessa looking at her, and her mouth closed. Tessa looked almost friendly. Almost.

Inquiring looks from the other ladies were shot towards Adrama. They had seen that she was going to say something, and they didn’t want her to refrain from it. With some confusion, she covered herself by saying a few sentences about Elena. “Yes,” Tessa said in reply to that. “We can’t choose our families, can we?”

Normally Adrama would have answered comments like that with silent agreement, but the thought came into her mind that Tessa’s comment was directed towards her. On a sudden impulse, she spoke. “That is true,” she said. “But I love my family, I’m proud of them, and in this case I had no need to choose them. I doubt if I could have chosen such a wonderful family.” She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it, smiling up at the shocked yet still pleased face. What did it matter if her mother thought it inappropriate to say such a thing in front of company? Let the whole of Gondor hear it… it was true.

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

08-20-2003, 10:54 AM

Síriel glided down the steps to her father's garden at precisely two in the afternoon. Her eyes were sparkling with fun and she whistled under her breath as she went. A handsome soldier, a masquerade ball, and a delightful costume... what more could she want in one day? Even the weather was perfect, smilingly sunny, and not too warm for Síriel's fitted black top. She crossed a back hall and pushed out through the black iron and glass doors that led to the small walled garden where she had promised to meet Thenidir.

He was there waiting, tall and resplendent in his guardsman's uniform. He bowed low as she approached, and Síriel replied with a deep curtsey. Slipping her arm through his the two walked demurely through the rows of fragrant herbs and flowers, their bright scents making Síriel's head reel. "So," she began experimentally, "what service can you do me today?"

Thenidir chuckled, rubbed a finger across his jawline, freshly shaven in fact. The girl didn't mince words. "Well, milady, I can show you a good time today, if you'll come out into the city with me." Síriel considered this. She wasn't dressed to go into the city, but then again, if she was fit to be seen by Thenidir, what did she care about the common people? She smiled, leaned hard against his shoulder and sighed.

“I couldn’t, you know. It simply wouldn’t be proper.” She looked up at him regretfully, knowing that he would respond the way she wanted him to. The invitation was promptly retreated, and Síriel spun her parasol delightedly as she listened to Thenidir elaborate on throwing caution to the winds, and how lovely it would be. She sighed heavily, batted her eyelashes (ridiculously, if only she knew it) and finally spoke. “I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but let’s go, just this once!” She smiled up at Thenidir, who smiled back tentatively and took her hand.

They left the garden through the gate in the stone wall, finding themselves in the bustling streets of Minas Tirith. Thenidir led Síriel through the crowded marketplaces and the back alleys, pointing out things that the Steward’s daughter had never had time or opportunity to discover. The stall where the best paper for making children’s kites could be bought, the bakery that sold the most delicious cakes and pastries, the milliner that could transform the drabbest hat into the most delightful. Síriel squealed with delight as they passed the milliner’s shop, peering inside at a delectable creation of red feathers and lace that greatly resembled her costume for the masquerade.

The masquerade. Síriel stopped still in the street, Thenidir pausing a step behind her to look at her with worried eyes. “My brother’s masquerade ball! I had forgotten… Oh I have no time to get ready.” Her eyes were apologetic as she lifted her skirts and turned back in the direction of the Citadel. Looking upward at the heights of the city made her open her eyes wide with astonishment. They had come so far, it must be a full hour’s walk back! “Where are we?” Síriel asked, hesitantly, the lower circles were not very familiar to her, and she wondered how she would get back quickly enough to prepare for the masquerade.

“I’ll take you back right away, Lady Síriel.” Thenidir spoke in a low voice, touching her elbow with his hand.

“No, find me a carriage, it will be faster that way.” Thenidir nodded and lifted her hand to his lips before turning and walking quickly away in the direction of the nearest garrison of the guard. Síriel huddled against a wall, slightly embarrassed to be seen alone here, in the lower levels, dressed in afternoon clothes as the sun began to sink behind Mindolluin. Oh how she hoped Thenidir wouldn’t be long.
************************************************** *

Tíriel stood in front of a mirror, surveying her costume. The white gown she wore was extremely becoming, if a little lower cut in the front than the conservative Tíriel preferred. The low waistline was set with small green stones that formed a belt around her waist, the sleeves were full and gauzy giving the illusion of wings. A long plume of feathers proceeded from the bustle of her dress and swept the floor. Her jeweled and feathered half-mask had a long black bill and black stones set at the corners of the eyes. She held the mask in front of her face for a moment, a satisfied smile creeping across her lips. A wonderful costume, and she would match Síriel so perfectly.

“A swan indeed,” Gaerlin whispered in her ear, as he crept up behind her and put his arms around her waist.

Tíriel relaxed in his hug for a moment before scolding him quietly, “Don’t rumple my plumage, you big oliphaunt.” Gaerlin laughed and turned her around, looking at her dress with approval.

He bowed ceremoniously. “Are you ready to go, my lady?” he asked her, his eyes still laughing. She leaned in and kissed his cheek quickly before nodding, and allowing him to lead her out of the house to the waiting carriage.

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

Child of the 7th Age

08-20-2003, 12:22 PM

Varda's post

Party Preparation Post
The sun shining, despite the dark clouds to the east, Elena sat out on the terrace sipping her tea. She had a lovely view of Minas Tirith from this house – some levels below her, and above her the white towers rising up high above her.

Her tea getting cold, she rang for the maid to bring her a fresh pot. The maid duly came – bringing with her a white envelope, addressed to the Lady Elena. Intrigued, Elena’s eyes scanned the writing, before turning it over and opening it. Reading the contents, her eyes lit up with excitement.

A masquerade ball! This was new to her, and it should be fun. Leaving her tea behind her, she left the terrace and hurried up to her rooms, anxious to decide what to wear well in advance.

********************************************

Two days later, an hour before the ball was due to start, Elena was fastening herself into her exquisite gown. A beautiful shade of blue, almost turquoise, she had had it embroidered with silver to make it even more elaborate. Make up already done, she left her dark curls loose, save to let the maid fasten back part of it, holding it in place with a pin, encrusted with shimmering blue stones.

Elena’s shoulders and neck felt bare in this dress, which was off the shoulders, and after fastening a necklace round her neck, she put a silver shawl over her shoulders, picked up her mask, and set off for the ball.

Elora's post:

"Alethea, where is your mask?" Ruiel's exasperated voice snapped at her younger daughter, who flinched. Dryea chimed in with a biting comment.

"Can't you see mother? She is already wearing it." Alethea inflated as much as she could in her restrictive gown with righteous outrage. Her mouth opened to reply and then snapped shut as Ruiel let a burst of savage temper loose.

"SILENCE!" Both Dryea and Alethea stared at their mother uneasily, who quivered in rage. It was a rare sight to behold. "War looms over us, all we have worked for could rest in ruins. Death could come, and you still insist on bickering.

I did not spend my youth in the fetid backwaters of Dol Amroth to come to this end. Of that, ladies, may you be certain."

Ruiel gathered herself as she spoke in that dire tone. There was threat in the room that both had never seen directed at them. Their mother favoured them both with a harsh stare that seemed to bore through to their spines and then snapped a ridiculously feathered fan out and turned away, furiously fanning her face. Dryea and Alethea studied their mother's back in silence for the moment.

"The carriage has arrived, m'ladies," a male voice discreetly intoned from the door of the reception room the three women stood waiting in. Alethea snapped from her shock at the raw display of distress and managed an uneven nod. The footman bowed and withdrew, beating a hasty retreat.

"Mother, we are not so unschooled to allow our disagreements to hinder us," Dryea said.
"We know how important tonight is," Alethea added, sending a stung glance to her sister.

"I do wonder," Ruiel murmured after a pause. Dryea flashed with offense. How tiring to be treated as a child time and again. Alethea was still pondering the implications of her mother's words. Would she really abandon them if they proved an impediment? Her daughters?

"We should go mother, lest we are late. Rumours could start whilst we are not there to guide them," Dryea urged with some impatience. Ruiel glanced at her brightly feathered fan and grimaced at the fireplace in front of her. The Gondorian concept of amusement was absurd. A masquerade! She turned back to Dryea and Alethea, now calmer and in control of her frayed temper and demeanour.

Now was not the time to crumble, after years of hard work and danger. She had already sent a dispatch back to Umbar announcing her strategy, through Dryea. Her eldest daughter was keen to make a start on it, thinking it her own project. She made no secret of the pride she took in being entrusted with something as important as inciting civil war in an enemy country. It stuck in Alethea's craw for a reason Ruiel could make little sense of. After all, Alethea had showed little inclination in the business of espionage.

Alethea bore watching, lest her unenthusiastic opinion of events herald an unhealthy attraction to Gondor. Once this was over, Ruiel would remove Alethea from Gondor. "Mother," Dryea inquired as she stepped towards the door.

Ruiel closed her fan and let it dangle from her wrist. They'd had but two days to plan this and much hinged on the night. She walked forward, taking Alethea by the arm lest her daughter dawdle. The three made their way from the manor and into the carriage in order to arrive at the Masquerade.

Only two days, yet they'd managed to acquire luxuriantly decorated gowns and masques as well as plot and plan. Ruiel inwardly smiled at the irony that they would attend in the costume of the exotic wetland birds of southern Gondor. Brightly dyed, rich plumage floated with the woman as they walked. Each had chosen a bird to become. Ruiel had chosen the peacock, and shimmered in irridescent green-blue.

Dryea was even more spectacular in her choice for plumage. She was radiant in a delicate rose hue of the elegant flamingo, the subtle understatement thrusting her perfect beauty forward to shine. Alethea had chosen the sea eagle for herself. She was sleek in white feathers, the stark contrast of deep, glowing red accenting her form.

As the carriage trotted its way to the citadel, discussion continued within.

"Remember daughters," Ruiel cooly said, "Incite uncertainty carefully. Cast doubt discreetly. By the end of the evening, both Findulias and the Stewards must be discredited."

Dryea waved her hand at her mother in annoyance. It was not the first time Ruiel had reminded them of this.

"Yes, mother! I know. We both know," she said. Alethea seemed not so sure.

"This is dangerous mother," she said hesitantly.

"These are dangerous times, Alethea. Do not ever claim the rumours as your own, deny any opinion you may have stated if you are questioned. Let the others jump to their own conclusions. The petty nobles of Minas Tirith are adept at such things."

"Mother, that is lying," Alethea said in opposition. Dryea rolled her eyes and smirked out the window, a sense superiority rolling from her as Ruiel wondered over how she could have such different daughters.

"Better lying than dying, Alethea," she said harshly. "And if all else fails, blame your new little friend Adrama. The squawking of Pelion should be distraction enough alone." Dryea laughed richly as Alethea objected.

"But mother, she's my -"

"Enemy. She is Gondorian, she is part of Minas Tirith's most powerful Houses. She is your sworn foe. You are Umbarian, or have you forgotten," Dryea interjected cooly. Ruiel sat back and let the two sisters run, observing keenly as the carriage rocked gently.

"So too, then dear sister, is Rhir," Alethea snapped back. Dryea went pale, eyes widening.

"Excellent observation, Alethea. You would both do well to remember who is who tonight. Of all people, we three should know that not all is as it seems. Foes can be allies, and allies foes."

The carriage came to a halt and the sound of footmen jumping to the paved ground was heard from within the carriage.

"And we shall see tonight who is exactly whom," Ruiel finished. The door to the carriage opened as the three women raised their exquisite masques into place. They alighted gracefully, one by one, and swept into the Masquerade every inch the noblewomen of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth. Beneath the warm and gentle light of the torches, Dryea's radiance grew.

Murmurs already eddied through those assembled. Ruiel wore a well pleased smile, the thrill of the night bringing her alive. As the women swept into the great hall in their feathered and jewelled finery, Ranne dealt with yet more business that arose from the 2 days of planning that had passed.

A discreet tap at the hidden door in Ruiel's study came exactly on time. She opened it and passed to the grubby, dishlevelled man a heavy stack of phamplets.

"Distribute these when you are given the signal before sunrise and you will be paid double," she informed him.
"Where is this place," he asked as he peered around her shoulders at the strange room behind her.
"Ask foolish questions like that and you'll have no further need of gold," she added in the same brusque tone. The beggar blinked at her in surprise and then nodded his head in imitation of a suitably chastened man.
"How do I know I'll get my money," he said suspiciously, head bowed.
"We will make sure we find you, no matter what happens. It's up to you ensure you will be glad of our finding you when it comes to pass. Now go. The night will not last forever," Ranne snapped.

The beggar ducked his head and turned away to start on his strange task. As he wandered his way back down the levels from the wealthy to the general city sections, he wondered about that strange room and the phamplets. Not for the first time, he wished he could read. Had he been able to, he may have thought twice about distrubuting them in the taverns and settlements.

He'd want a great deal more gold for distrubting lies about the Steward, even if they did bear the herald of the high-born House of Sador. Protected by his innocence, he instead stashed the phamplets and went in search of an ale and some company. No need to spend his time waiting for the signal in bored isolation. Besides, he was going to be rolling in gold soon and could afford the largesse.

Back at the manor, Ranne wished her hands with a moue of distaste. The room still stank of the beggar. It needed to be aired out, but not now. She had to keep an eye on the kitchens of the Citadel so that Ruiel could be kept apprised of what occured behind the scenes. And if, by seeming chance, she encountered Rhir, she could perhaps warn him about the watch on Dryea.

[ August 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

08-21-2003, 12:05 AM

Eckthelion fidgeted nervously with the elaborate collar of the embroidered doublet that he'd slipped on for the occasion. The damask material was rich and radiant in striking tones of blue and silver, or so his daughter Tiriel had constantly assured him.

Only for Tiriel would he consent to don such a preposterous outfit. He would have been happy wearing his everyday tunic with its muted shades of tan and brown, perhaps carting about a gilded mask if some hint of gaiety was absolutely necessary. But his daughter would not hear of it and insisted he dress the part.

Both to please Tiriel and to impress the citizens of Gondor, he'd slipped on a tunic in the style of the old days and arrayed himself as Mardil Voronwe the Steadfast, first of the ruling Stewards, with an elaborate sword hanging by his side. There was no escaping now. He'd have to go through with this masquerade to please his dear children especially the graceful young Finduilas who was soon to join their family.

He extended his hand towards his daughter Tiriel, and swept her close to him with a paternal embrace whispering how lovely she appeared this evening. She and her husband fell in behind him as Eckthelion beckoned Denethor and Finduilas over to his side.

After greeting the bride-to-be, he flashed a quick look back at Tiriel. "Your sister? Where is she?" he queried over his shoulder. His voice was calm but exhibited an underlying irritation.

Tiriel's eyes flashed bright with a hint of secrets witheld, but the younger sister revealed nothing as the parade continued its march down the hallway towards the entrance to the ballroom. Just inside the room, they could hear the sound of instruments playing softly with voices rising and falling as the outstanding citizens of Gondor miled about waiting for the Steward's family to make its way inside.

Eckthelion gave one last thought to searching for Siriel but then sighed and shrugged his shoulders, reminding himself to check up on her later. As he strode through the doorway flanked by his son and daughter-to-be, the gathering crowds turned to face him and applauded heartily showing their approval for this wise and wiley man who shouldered so many of the burdens of state.

Eckthelion modestly dropped back and led Denethor and Finduilas forward so that they could bask in the radiance and affection of the citizens of Minas Tirith. Yet the Steward could not help but notice that there was a lull in the applause and a certain hint of reticence as Finduilas stepped forward to take her bow.

Eckthelion said nothing. The look on his face did not change in the slightest. Yet he took note of the difference and vowed to keep his ears open to discover more about what was going on. Within an instant the musicians had again begun to play, and his son and Finduilas were swept away together in the first round of dancing and congratulations.

[ August 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Manardariel

08-21-2003, 01:58 PM

Tessa tucked an off-coming hair behind her ear. Impatiently, she tapped her foot against the floor. She couldn´t move. She couldn´t even breathe properly. In the elaborate invitation Tessa had recieved two days ago, a masquade had sounded like fun. She had thought a ‘Sailor´s Sweetheart’, her costume made of blue dress, striped shawl and golden buttons would be a rather comfortable creation. Well, she´d been wrong. Apparently everything around here came with a corset tight enough to squueze water out of a rock. Suddenly, something caught her nose, and Tessa did the one thing you should never do in a corset: she sneezed.

Half an hour later she had replaced the corset by a normal underdress –no one would care how she looked, anyway- and was just back in time to hear the herald cry: “The Steward Eckthelion with his family!”

Applause branded up. Tessa clenched her fists in her sleeves as it stiffeled itsself, as though Finduilas appearance was a large hand asking for silence. Hags! They´re so jealous, you can almost smell it! Dressed up as a butterfly in a just ravishing combination of multicolored pastels, Finduilas was looking –if possible- more beautiful than ever. Averyll poked her in the side.

“Try to smile,” she wispered sympathetically. “I know this is hard, but...”

“Smile!” Tessa turned on her. Forcing her foice down, she hissed back: “Smile! Smile at the women who are in turn of ruining my sister´s future, her dream of leaving Dol Amroth? Smile at the people who treat us like the dirt under their shoes? Honestly, Averyll, you can´t be serious....” Her voice had become louder. People were turning around, staring.

“Shh!” Averyll wispered back urgently. “You´re making it all worse can´t you see that? These rumors can´t hurt her, not really. Denethor and th steward knows it´s rubbish...”

Tessa stared at her. She wanted to shake her, hard. “You don´t understand!” Clenching her teeth, not to scream, she grabbed Averyll´s shoulders. “This isn´t about the truth! This is about what the people think is the truth. I don ´t want my sister being spat on in the streets. I don´t want thing like this to happen...” She trailed off, letting go of Averyll. The woman had understood. They walked around a bit, wispering casually about the ladies around them.

“And of course,” Averyll said with a half-snort, “Lady Dreya of Dol Amroth is being the star of the evening...”

Tessa stopped in her tracks. Puzzled, she looked at Averyll. “Of Dol Amroth?”

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

elven maiden Earwen

08-21-2003, 05:34 PM

Eleniel stood in the ballroom waiting for Finduilas to come out. What’s taking so long she thought impatiently to herself. So far all they had done was wait for Denethor and his-bride-to-be, to enter with his sisters and Ecthelion. So much fun they we having, Elen thought sarcastically to herself.

After they had left the tea two days before, which had gone surprisingly well, she had come to her room and found a beautiful invention inviting her to a Masquerade Ball, in honor of Finduilas. Naturally Elen was delighted at the thought of the ball and hurried to figure out what she would wear. She had gotten a dress made for her, though she wouldn’t be going as anything but a young woman wearing a dress. It was a deep burgundy shade, quite grand, embroidered in gold thread. Its sleeves were off the shoulder and halfway down they changed from burgundy to black. Her mask was of the same colors with a large golden feather sticking from it. It was annoying her so much that she was about ready to pull it out.

Her long black hair was between a bun and curls. A layer of it was pulled up and the rest hung down curled. She wore a golden necklace with a large golden heart pendent, and a black shawl to finish her outfit. Everything about her outfit seemed perfect, but of course she had to wear the corset. It had been pulled so tightly she could hardly breathe. I’ll probably faint soon, she thought trying to adjust it so she could get a little air. Tessa, who had just come back, gave her a teasing smile as she watched Eleniel try to get some oxygen.

“The Steward Ecthelion with his family!” Elen heard a clear voice say. Finally! Elen started to clap and forced herself to smile.

“Doesn’t Finduilas look beautiful?” Elen whispered to Vienna. Vienna nodded as she watched the couple walked towards them and then start to dance. She was about to say something to Averyll when she realized Tessa and her had wandered off.

“Do you know where Tessa, and Averyll, have gone?” She asked looking around. Vienna seemed to snap out of her thoughts and she quickly searched the room.

“Lets go find them” Vienna said as she set off to look for them. Elen quickly hurried to catch up to Vienna who was moving quite fast.

“Slow down. People might think were up to something” Elen hissed as she caught up to Vieana. Vienna slowed down. They passed many young women who stared at Finduilas. Many of there expressions told Elen that they longed to be her, they were jealous. Many of these girls’ mothers stared wistfully and sadly at their daughters and Denethor. They probably hoped that they would marry Denethor. Not an outsider like Finduilas.

“There they are” Vienna said pointing to where Tessa and Averyll walked. “Come on.” She said quickening her pace again. The two girls ahead were whispering to each other and in a couple moments they would be in earshot, so they would soon here what the girls were saying.

“And of course, Lady Dryea of Dol Amroth is being the star of the evening...” she heard Averyll say. Tessa stopped.

“Of Dol Amroth?”

“Yes her sister Alethea, her mother and Dryea are all from Dol Amroth.” Vieana said catching up to them. “ The Morthaniawen’s.”

“Odd, I’ve never heard of them before. But Dol Amroth is big enough that, I may not have met everyone. “ Elen paused in confusion. “But by the looks of them, they are very rich so I would think they would be a noble of Dol Amroth. At dinner my sister always discussed all the nobles, probably because she liked that one boy, but obviously he didn’t like her. I mean who would like such a witch.” Elen looked up,” But that is besides the point.” The more she spoke the more confused she became. Vienna tapped her shoulder lightly.

“I think you should be quiet” she said, “You are starting to confuse me,” she added quietly. Elen smiled at her.

“I’m starting to confuse myself” Elen said before walking off to get a drink.

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Everdawn

08-22-2003, 05:44 AM

As per usual, Vieana was late. She had decided to take an afternoon nap, which was odd for her, though she had been feeling overly tired lately. She was only woken when Lessawen came into her room to look for her washing. Vieana had been very surprised at this, and when Lessawen told her the time, Vieana dissolved into, what can only be described as- panic mode.

She had rummaged through her wardrobe odding aside numerous grey and white dresses that crowded the racks. And instead, picked out a dark navy assortment striped down the middle with silver. Well, Dol Amroth must stand for something... She told herself. Lessawen had a terrible time trying to adjust the strings on the corset, Vieana fainted twice. "Not to worry Lessawen, it does happen."

"But not twice in a row m'lady" Lessawen replied. "It happens" Vieana repeated, placing at the same time a silver circlet round her hair and the same blue lily jewel that her husband had given her, three years ago. "I need an escort." she said expectedly to the maid, and together the two hurried out to the ball.

It was soon enough that she found Elen, and to her distress she could not find Tessa or Averyll. “Doesn’t Finduilas look beautiful?” Elen whispered to Vienna. Vieana just nodded. Ah! Its times like these I miss my Dardanir. Bless them.

Elen and Vieana sucessfuly (as they supposed) found their two companions, “And of course, Lady Dryea of Dol Amroth is being the star of the evening...” she heard Averyll say. Tessa stopped.

“Of Dol Amroth?”

“Yes her sister Alethea, her mother and Dryea are all from Dol Amroth.” Vieana said catching up to them. “ The Morthaniawen’s.”
Elen seemed very confused by this. “I’m starting to confuse myself” Elen said before walking off to get a drink.

"Neither have i" said Vieana turning to the others. "Neither of my sisters have, and i know that becuase you know what one sister is like.. And i have five, not to mention that at least my father would have met them and... "he knows everyone in Dol Amroth" It really is pathetic. You know what i think, and this is in my professional, six-gossiping-sisters-blood opinion, I say that we in time confront them. The younger one if possible, she seems more approachable then her older sister... And their mother, she seems rather nice dont you think."

Vieana paused to gain breath, she felt her eyelids dropping. "Why am i so tired this week!" she exclaimed. "Now, I dont want to hear that any of you have been calling that Pelien lady a snake its unkind.. Tessa.." Tessa raised her hands as in mock truce. "You called her lady, Vieana, even in the face of betrayel you are still well mannered." Tessa laughed at her.

alaklondewen

08-22-2003, 08:04 AM

Pelien sipped a glass of wine while she watched Finduilas and Denethor dance across the floor. Feeling utterly disgusted by the princess butterfly, she scanned the room for the Dol Amroth ladies who had visited her two days prior. There they stood all huddled together making over their princess like maggots on rotting cabbage. She was convinced Finduilas had heard the vicious rumors and sent her little mascots to do her dirty work. What a pathetic woman...how would she handle her duties as the Steward's wife, when she didn't have what it takes to stand up for herself? If Adrama had had a similar problem she at least would have confronted the individual on her own without sending lackeys to do it for her. “The poor thing, she must really have something to hide,” Pelien whispered almost inaudibly into her glass.

“What was that dear?” Sador leaned in closely with a childish smile spread across his chiseled face. “Have I told you yet how stunning you look this evening?”

“Yes, you have…but you may tell me again.” Finduilas flew from Pelien’s mind as her husband complimented her appearance. In reality, Pelien did look amazing. Her costume was that of a cobra. The dress was sleek and smooth. Its shiny blackness was contrasted by two wide white stripes across her bust line. An elaborate collar rose behind her head like the hood of the notorious venomous snake and displayed two white circles on its back. The tall, proud woman carried a black mask with a white streak on each cheek, and hanging from a chain around her long neck was a forked tongue. Her costume was particularly eye-catching, if not deliciously appropriate.

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Estelyn Telcontar

08-22-2003, 08:18 AM

Diorwyn rubbed her sore fingertips with a sigh. The past two days had been the busiest she had experienced since coming to the White City. She had prepared gowns for the wedding and various festivities while they were still in Dol Amroth, but since the invitation to a masked ball had come unexpectedly, she had needed to improvise costumes for the Princesses at least. And she couldn’t say “no” to the others who had asked for her assistance as well.

Gwinniel had not been able to help, for her seamstresses were equally busy sewing costumes for the ladies of Minas Tirith. Fortunately, several of the maids could ply needles well enough for the plain seams, so that she could concentrate on the delicate details. Tessa’s costume looked very nice, but she was proudest of the butterfly dress for Finduilas. Gauzy, colourful fabrics fluttered as wings without hindering her movements.

Unfortunately, she had been so busy that she had not been able to talk to her friends in the city about the rumours that were becoming increasingly persistent. She debated with herself over the respective merits of finally getting some rest after very short nights, or seeing the ball and especially the costumed guests there. Professional curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to take a peek from one of the adjacent rooms before going to sleep. Throwing a light cloak over her simple dress, she walked to the ballroom.

Arien

08-22-2003, 12:26 PM

"And we shall see tonight who is exactly whom," her mother finished as the three stepped out from the carriage. Alethea nodded to her in childish obedience, in her head she wondered why she did it but it was instinct to agree with every thing her mother said concerning Umbar. Everything. So the three walked to the Ballroom, her mother in front and her sister at her side.

Her sister looked stunning tonight and she pondered the thought of whether bride to be could match her magnificence. She didn’t doubt it, but she kept silent. As they approached the door they placed the elaborate masques on delicately. Alethea’s was the same deep red and white of her dress, except the plumage was laced with tiny coloured jewels which mad the masques sparkle when the light hit it right. Her eyes were swept with the same red hue of her dress, but her speckled brown eyes seemed to be oyt of lace with her attire.

As the three entered the glorious Ballroom a few heads turned in their direction, obviously to applaud Dryea’s beauty with their inquisitive eyes. Their mother turned and walked to her acquaintances with a brief goodbye to her daughters. And so Alethea, seeing Adrama at the other end of the Ballroom made her way to her. She set off passing through several groups of people commenting on others.

“…yes she is beautiful isn’t she…”

“….but what about her sister?….”

“…a fake! Well I never…”

She continued to walk through them, till someone caught her wrist and pulled her, she turned round with a shock but was only greeted by Dryea.

“Oh….”

“Remember what mother said,” she whispered quietly to Alethea, “remember your job, don’t you dare let that pathetic friend of yours get in the way.” Alethea twisted her wrist from her grip, her eyes stared violently at her sister. Why did she do this? She loved her sister and hated her at the same time. Dryea seemed to have not let go of the fact Alethea sold her out to their mother, and in reality Alethea had not forgiven herself for the act.

The last thing she wanted to do was upset Dryea but somewhere inside of her she knew she was right and her sister wrong. They were lying and it was wrong and she wanted to fight it but the love she held for her mother and sister was too much too over come, although she felt as though she was nearly there the way Dryea was acting.

“And you remember too!” she hissed back, “I think Rhir might be here tonight, maybe I’ll ask him for a dance!” She smiled sarcastically at her and continued on her way to Adrama. In truth she had no intention of dancing with Rhir, she had simply said it to spite her sister. She knew her mother would be far more outraged if Dryea danced with him then if she did. And she knew Dryea knew it as well.

[ September 05, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

08-22-2003, 04:57 PM

Meirelle hustled around in the kitchen, preparing the dainties that were to be set aside on tables at the ball. She set a plate stacked with iced cakes upon a serving tray and went back to fetch a blue plate with pastries set in a circular pattern on it. Picking up the tray, Meirelle threaded her way through the dense crowd of cooks and servants in the kitchen to get towards the door that led out so she could take the dainties to the ball.

When Meirelle stepped into the hall, she drew in a sharp breath. It was decorated even more lavishly than it had been at the welcoming dinner. Ladies in breathtakingly beautiful dresses with elaborate masks glided by to chat with each other, leaving the scent of perfume in their wake. Men in rich suits strode about, looking for the lady they desired to dance with. Meirelle searched for the tables designated for dainties and finally spotted them, against the far wall.

Making her way across the hall proved more difficult than Meirelle thought. Men and ladies swept by without a care for the dainties on the tray, and Meirelle nearly dropped them more than once. When she finally reached the tables, she sighed in relief and set the tray down. She emptied it and picked it up. As she turned to go back to the kitchen, Meirelle bumped a lady in a particularly beautiful cream-coloured dress and dropped the tray with a startling clang. She gasped and grabbed the lady's arm, steadying her.

"I am so sorry, m'lady! Are you all right?" she asked, mortified. The woman regained her cool composure and replied, "I am fine, lass. Be more careful the next time you are carrying a tray, though, and you won't make a fool of yourself in dignified public." With that, she walked haughtily off, her dress rustling. Meirelle mumbled, "Yes, m'lady," and knelt down the retrieve the tray, cheeks burning. She stepped back through the crowd briskly, eyes down, until she got out of the hall. As she strode back to the kitchen, Meirelle burned over the upset tray. "Be more careful and you won't make a fool of yourself," she mimicked the woman. "Be more kindly and you won't make a beast of yourself, is what I should have said," she muttered.

Nurumaiel

08-22-2003, 08:06 PM

Adrama stood, trying to hide the glittering coldness in her eyes as she watched Finduilas and Denethor, or rather just Finduilas. Adrama knew she wouldn't be able to look at Denethor without the few nearby her seeing just how she felt. Murmurs came to her ears. "Isn't Finduilas beautiful?" "Absolutely lovely!" "The perfect bride for Denethor." Adrama tried to ignore these, yet one comment was impossible to pretend she hadn't heard. "Do you remember when there were rumors that another girl would marry Denethor... yes, can you imagine? That would have been so terrible for Denethor. No, I believe she wanted to marry him because of his high position. Everyone would have been perfectly miserable if she had become his bride. Except her, of course, the little hag. As long as she got what she wanted, she wouldn't have cared what everyone else felt. Yes, I know what people are saying abuot the Lady Finduilas, but I don't agree. If anyone is related to some evil person it would be the first girl."

Adrama's back stiffened, color came to her cheeks, and her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She felt a hand gently touch her shoulder for a moment and she saw her mother looking with kindly concern at her. For the rest of the evening Pelien did not exchange a single word with the one who had made that comment, who, fortunately, wasn't known to their family.

Pelien drew Adrama away from the main section of the people gathered and looked into the dark eyes that were seeking to find something else to look at. "Adrama, this must be very hard for you," Pelien said with a little sigh. "Please, love, you mustn't listen to anything people say. You must realize that if Finduilas were turned away and Adrama married Denethor, that such terrible things would be said about them, too. People who say things like that are merely trying to fit in with the others and find fault in everything."

Tears brimmed up in the dark eyes and, as they were in an area with many people, the young woman simply took her mother's hands and kissed her cheek. "I love you so much, Mother," she said.

Her mother blushed a little and pretended in vain not to have heard, and they rejoined the crowd. For the first time Adrama summoned up enough courage to look at Denethor. With a shock she realized, though she would nevr have admitted it, that she didn't really love Denethor anymore. The only reason she hated Finduilas was because she had taken what should have been Adrama's. Because she was supposed to hate her...? Adrama wasn't very sure about that.

"Adrama, would you like to dance?"

Adrama's turned her head and saw that the speaker of those words had been Pelien. Not sure what her mother meant, she replied in a hesitant voice, "I think it might enjoy that." Her mother made no reply, but her eyes shifted from Adrama's face to something else. Adrama turned, following the direction of her mother's gaze, and found herself looking at Addruran. She smield a little. "Just like old times," she said, and moved off in that direction. Standing by the table where Addruran was surveying the room, a voice beside her spoke unexpectedly, startling her.

"Hello, Adrama."

"Alethea, how wonderful to see you again!" Adrama said with a laugh. "Of course I should have known you'd be here. I was just..." She trailed off and her eyes wandered to Finduilas.

"Watching Finduilas, I suppose?"

"Well, yes, actually," Adrama said with a little sigh. "I suppose she does look rather beautiful tonight. She must be very happy to be Denethor's bride."

Alethea was silent. Words didn't often ease bitterness. "I saw you watching the two of them just a few minutes ago," she said, cleverly changing the subject without appearing to. "You looked absolutely ghastly for a few moments. What happened?"

"Oh..." Adrama paused, trying to hide her confusion. She didn't feel like confiding in Alethea just yet. "Er... my corset was too tight."

"So your mother took you aside and comforted you about it, and you were exceedingly glad over that? Not to mention that you hadn't noticed it before, especially when climbing in and out of your carriage."

Adrama laughed lightly. "You're very sharp, Alethea." A teasing smile came to her face. "Were you, by any chance, spying on me?" There was a little silence, then Adrama spoke again. "If you want the truth, some woman or other made a nasty comment about 'the first girl who was going to marry Denethor.'"

"Some people can be so spiteful."

"And mocking! If we ever get to meet each other in private again without all these ears listening in, I'll tell you about my mother's tea party. There were some perfect examples of mockery there." Adrama's eyes scanned the room, searching for Tessa. "Finduilas' sister did give me a rather friendly look, though. She might be a good friend, except for two points: she was making fun of my mother, and she's Finduilas' sister." Adrama could not explain why she felt guilty after proclaiming the second reason.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned to face Addruran, smiling up at him. "Will you dance?" he asked.

"I suppose that would be very pleasant," said Adrama. "Just like old times?" She turned back to Alethea. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "A new dance is just beginning, and afterwards I'll return."

"Please, go," Alethea said. "It might do you some good, Adrama." With a playful smile, she leaned over and whispered secretly. "Perhaps I should loosen your corset for you first?"

Adrama gave her a withering look, then laughed loudly, taking Addruran's hand and walking out to the dance floor with him. The music began to play, and the two of them began to dance. Adrama wondered if her mother and father would dance at all. They never seem to do things like that anymore, she thought. Really, I hope Mother realizes that dancing is a very noble thing to do.

"I noticed you looking very sick just a few minutes ago," Addruran commented.

"Yes, everyone does seem to be noticing that," Adrama said, feeling rather annoyed. How many other people would comment on that before the evening was over? Deciding immediately to skip the story about the corset, she simply said, "Someone said something rather rude about me, without knowing I was there. It was just rather a blow against my pride, that's all."

As they continued to dance, they came alongside of Finduilas and Denethor for a few moments. Adrama made a point of looking exceedingly happy and ignored them. That will show him that I'm not sorry at all that he's marrying that hag, Adrama thought with some satisfaction. The feeling of happiness wasn't all pretend. It was nice to be talking casually with Addruran again. Smiling fondly, she brought to mind the time when they had both been children and, at one party, they had danced together and everyone had watched them with laughter and applause. "A perfect match," everyone had said. Adrama didn't like to think of that. Everyone seemed to want to spoil the friendship the two of them had.

The dance soon ended, and Adrama bid farewell to Addruran and went to rejoin Alethea once again. The dance had left her flushed and looking very beautiful, and Pelien, standing a little ways off, couldn't help but smile proudly as she watched her daughter. Adrama and Alethea went to where they could sit down and began their conversation once again.

[ August 22, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Everdawn

08-23-2003, 05:56 AM

Averyll was about to speak when Vieana noticed a group of Finduilas' Dol Amroth guard standing by one of the doors leading out onto the balconies. "What do you suppose they are up to?" Vieana asked Averyll and Tessa who seemed to have the same question burning inside them once Vieana had brought it to their attention.

Their leader soon found them and bowed. "You dont suppose something has happened do you?" Averyll asked. "I hope not!" exclaimed Tessa who inheritantly looked in Finduilas direction. "I should find out, they know me. Those guards used to be under the command of my husband, excuse me." Vieana slowly made her way over to the men who all in turn bowed at her.

"What are you all standing around looking like someone is going to be assasinated?" Vieana asked frontly, which sent a small wave of shock between the guards. "Nothing Lady Vieana, well not intentionally anyhow. We have heard more and more tales about the Princess, snide comments from the Minas Tirith Guards." The first guard remarked darkly.

"Really." Vieana said raising an eyebrow. "So, it is now that you all are happy to reveal that there have been tales told. It is just so lucky for you that we already know and are attempting to fix them before any of our reputations are damaged." She said putting her hands on her hips. "You of all Naian, should know better. What would Dardanir say if he knew what you were up to. Is it not some sort of treason to keep this kind of knowledge to yourselves?"

"No Lady, not really, you see, you ladies, well, you are sensitive..."

"Rubbish." snorted Vieana. "I think im going to have to write Captain Dardanir and tell him of this situation. You must be at peace with Minas Tirith, do you understand? Do you know what it would mean for us to get off side with them? It would be close to Civil War." Vieana exaggerated this just a little, but to some affect as the guard bowed his head.

Vieana felt slightly bad for this. And in her kindest tone spoke "Now, please come in wont you? You are as welcome as we are here. You are the royal guard. See here, you may make up for you mistake by dancing with me."

"Would that really be appropriate Lady Vieana?" Naian asked. "Dont be so silly!" said Vieana and she brought the group of guards into the ballroom and danced one dance with each of them before leaving them to the Minas Tirith court and retiring to a chair by the side of the room.

Child of the 7th Age

08-23-2003, 08:22 PM

Eckthlion spent the better part of the next hour mingling with his guests and listening to their small talk, joining in where appropriate and sharing some minor confidences of his own. It was a game. An old game that he'd learned to play when still a youth. It was also a skill that was necessary for anyone who wanted to do a good job with the Stewardship of Gondor. Now and again, amidst all the trivial gossip, he picked up an essential nugget of information.

Tonight Eckthelion could sense a tendril of unrest underlying the polite conversations that swirled about the hall, a slight indication of ongoing tension and unease. But why this anxiety was there, or what was its precise origin, he had not been able to determine. He made a mental note to speak later with his daughter Tiriel and see if she'd heard of anything unusual going on. Or perhaps he should consider apporaching a trusted servant in Finduilas' own entourage. It never ceased to amaze him how the court women, with their tangled webs of gossip and intrigue, were often the first to pick up on some subtle change in opinion or to pass along rumors that were later determined to be true.

Eckthelion leaned against one of the collonades and shifted his gaze uneasily about the hall. Where had Siriel disappeared to? How like his eldest daughter to disregard her familial duties and fail to show herself on such a crucial occasion! She'd grown from a headstrong child into a headstrong woman, and as yet had shown no indication of settling down and finding herself a husband. He had pushed a whole string of suitors towards his daugher in her younger years, but had given up on that. She had her own ideas on what was right and wrong, and was seemingly impermeable to his influence. Eckthelion sighed ruefully, reflecting that he would never understand her.

For one instant, he considered the possibility that something might have happened to Siriel. Some unknown enemy had encountered her and was intent on bringing her serious harm. He quickly pushed that thought aside. For all her stubborness, Siriel had always been able to handle herself with assurance and was careful not to take on risks that were too great. No, most likely the girl had gone her own way for some personal reason and might still arrive late at the ball. He went over to the dining table, picked up a glass of wine, and began to search for a member of Finduilas' personal entourage to have a word with them and see what he could discover.

[ August 26, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Manardariel

08-24-2003, 02:06 PM

The young man smiled at her, eyebrows raised. Exasperated, Tessa turned around. She was fed up with so-called-gentleman following her everywhere, flirting and just being annoying. Instead, she leaned against a marble pillar and let her eyes fly around the room.

Vieana was dancing with a guard. A crowd of women were standing together, talking. Two debutants, maiden of barely fifteen, were giggeling in a corner. Adrama and that other lady, Dreya´s sister...Alethea, that was her name! The two looked close, like true friends. Tessa moved nearer to them, casually smiling at people as she went. Adrama was smiling that bitter-sweet smile Tessa had noticed before. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks seemed to glitter. Had she been crying? Tessa couldn´t imagine why, but maybe it was because of the tightness of those dratted corsets.... Adrama looked over. Tessa smiled at her, then walked away, looking for Averyll or Elen.

She found Averyll, flirting with a guard carelessly. She seemed not to sad about an oppertunity to dissapear,and followed Tessa back to their table.

“Averyll, I´ve been thinking. It stinks. Lady of Dol Amroth, I´m sure indeed! Neither of us have ever heard of them, and believe me, we should know. They weren´t at court, not even Vieana´s sisters ever mentioned them...”

“But what if they´ve been living here for a long time?” Averyll objected. “What if they came from Dol Amroth but moved here? That does happen, you know. I don´t know, Tessa. For all we know, they could be totally clean.”

Tessa sighed. Averyll was right, for all they knew it could all be true. But I know more! I know there´s more, I can feel it! And Tessa´s feelings were usually right...

Child of the 7th Age

08-24-2003, 02:42 PM

sophia's post

Síriel leaned against the wall as the darkness began to grow heavier in the street where she waited. Where was Thenidir? What was keeping him? She shivered, Denethor’s masquerade would be in full swing by now and she was missing it. Shrinking closer to the wall Síriel dodged out of the way of a passing man. The streets were suddenly foreign to her, filled with rushing strangers, more dirty and ragged than the daytime shoppers.

A large man jostled her with his elbow and Síriel gasped as her head hit the stone wall of the building behind her. Without stopping to apologize, he hurried off through the alleys. What was she doing here? She, a lady, daughter of the Ruling Steward, here in a dark street in the evening? Thenidir should never have brought her here. A smile played across Síriel’s lips as she thought of how she would make him sorry… the handsome Thenidir, begging for mercy from Lady Síriel. How delicious.

Síriel’s delightful vision of teasing Thenidir dissolved suddenly with the mention of her father’s name. She jerked her head upright, scanning the knots of hurrying people in the street. Of course, anyone could have mentioned Eckthelion in the square, but what if it were someone she knew? She moved cautiously a little further into the dark street.

Two dark figures stood there, whispering together. Síriel froze, a chill running down her spine. What if they were plotting against her father… she slunk closer to the wall, listening hard. “The couriers… new messages…” Síriel thought the voice was male, but she couldn’t tell. A scrap of paper passed between the speaker and the second figure. The second figure nodded, its hood pulled well over its face, hiding the eyes. Síriel crept a little closer.

“Unsuspecting… as soon as you get them… will be pleased.” A stone clattered across the stone pavement, causing all three to glance up, startled. Síriel caught a glimpse of a pale face inside one of the shadowy figure’s hoods before they turned away and disappeared into the street.

Thenidir’s hand came down hard on her shoulder, and Síriel jumped and spun around. Stifling a cry she faked a lighthearted laugh. “Oh, Thenidir… is the carriage ready?” He gestured to the waiting coach just up the street, the horses stamping impatiently and the driver watching her with an amused look on his coarse face. “Yes, we should go now.” She smiled up at him, pushing him gently toward the carriage with one hand. Something was gleaming in the lamplight where the two whisperers had stood, and Síriel bent and snatched it up as soon as Thenidir’s back was turned.

Inside the carriage, Síriel listened to Thenidir’s apology halfheartedly, quite without the enjoyment she had earlier anticipated. She was staring at her lap, where a broken cord with a bit of wax seal still clinging to it nestled. The seal was almost certainly her father’s, though it was torn almost beyond recognition. Her heart pounded, what could all this mean? She had to get back and talk to her father immediately. Turning to Thenidir she asked, “can’t the driver go any faster?” Thenidir looked at her oddly, leaning forward to whisper to the driver through the curtains.
“You do hate to miss a party, don’t you?” he asked, with a wink.

“Oh yes,” Síriel said, “it would be a shame to get there too late…”
*******************************

[ September 02, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

maikafanawen

08-25-2003, 04:57 PM

The night before the Masque

Dryea had remained in solitary confinement within the walls of her chambers for the remainder of the evening and the morning before the masque. She let her fabulous amber hair fall limp without attention and she didn't change from her limp silk nightdress and evening robe. Moping around the house, throwing things every now and then, the servants stayed well out of her way.

She thought incessantly about what her mother had said concerning her duty to Umbar and the interruption Rhir was causing. Despite what her sister and mother probably thought, she was shamed. Dryea had indeed neglected thought of the glory owed to her people in lieu of her passion for Rhir. It was child's play and she knew it. Picking up the vase nearest her she hurled it at Elendil's head as he loomed above her from his place over the powder room: a sissy place for a king of men.

"That will be quite enough my Lady," scolded Yetri, bustling past her to pick up the shards. "It's not the cleaning up that vexes me, it's the thought of hurting your fiar self. I for one would like to see that sorry excuse of a government buried in the salty dirt of this country with the likes of you on the throne!" Dryea smiled as the old maid scooped up the pieces and shuffled down the hallway mumbling to herself about the disreputability of the Gondorians and they're silly traditions.

Even though the old maid had put her in fairly lighter spirits, she was still upset about the problem of Rhir. She gasped suddenly at thinking of Rhir as a "problem". But as she thought at length she realized he was. He had caused a disturbance in the peace of their family. He had side-tracked her from her goal of conquer! And worst of all he had seduced her! Dryea Morthaniawen!! This time one of the windows shattered as the candelabra was flung through it's ebony pane.

Furious, she picked up the front of her robe so that she might run to her own office; the one behind the tapestry that no one knew of. Punching in the block that would open the door she rushed in, pulling down books in a mad frenzy. Finally she found the one she wanted. Chortling wickedly she placed it on the podium beside her worktable. "Hmm…" she muttered to herself. "Interesting ingredients." An evil smile spread across her face as she ground a fine powder in her mortar before mixing it with a liquid that was soon conformed to a thick substance. Dryea rechecked the directions then dropped the charcoal colored block into the large pot that was boiling over the fire.

After a few minutes she ladled a small portion out of the cauldron and into a phial. Into this she dropped a second powder that hardened the compound within. She had to smash the vial to get it out. Then, placing it carefully in her mortar so that it didn't touch her skin she began to grind until the powder seemed to be no more than miniscule pieces of dust. For protection she slipped a glove on her left hand before taking a pinch of the poison and placing it into the compartment on her ruby ring. She shut it with a smirk and tossed the rest into the fire which exploded with a snap.

"'Dissolved instantly in wine'," she read, washing her hands thoroughly in the washbasin. "'Once it is consumed, the victim will experience the normal syndromes of wine. However, as the usual hangover progresses, the poison will work away at the victim's stomach until it not longer produces the digestive fluids' whatever those are," said Dryea, baffled at the words the anatomist had written, "'the body needs to break down the components of food. Not eight hours after consumption,'" she smiled cruelly as she read the last, satisfying words, "'the victim will die.'"

The Masque

The dress she had chosen for the ball was the deepest rose-wine shade she could find. The sleeves were of a gossamer gold fabric that hugged her arms making it appear as though her skin were itself gilded. Garnet stones were sewn into lengths of ribbon that were woven around her arms and neck. Waves of lustrous golden cloth cascaded down the skirt and a low cut neckline gave the finishing touch to the most exotic and originally designed costume in Arda.

The final accessory was the mask. A masterpiece if she'd ever seen one. Adorned with jewels from southern mines, it cost just as much as the dress. A fine gold powder gilded the cheeks and brow. It was cut away just above the nose to reveal Dryea's own illustrious lips painted in a berry-wine color. Rich rose petals, also from southern beauties, garlanded the top of the mask, adding to its exotic flavor.

When the eldest daughter of Ruiel Morthaniawen stood before her full-length mirror this evening, she didn't beam because she was unquestionably attractive, she smiled because of the ring that lingered on her middle finger that would solve all the problems between her mother and herself. If there had ever been a time when she could have been called wholly immoral, it was now.

"Ready ma'am?" asked Rhe tentatively, head looking down at the hem of her mistress's dress. Dryea didn't answer right away. Instead she took one long look in her mirror, summoning the strength she'd need to go through with her wicked exploit. This would be the breaking of her and she knew it. Once this went through, her heart would be so callous that Ar-Pharazon himself would have been proud to call her wife.

"I'm ready Rheaite," she said indifferently. "Since I must be."

The procession into the hall was classic. Every eye turned to see the bold lady who challenged the attention deservéd to Finduilas, and every eye was pleased—except of course for Denethor's. Even Dryea admitted uncaringly that the Steward-to-be could not be drawn away from his sunny princess. The rose had mentally scoffed at Finduilas's brightly colored costume, dismissing it as being a whimsical frivolity fit for the nursery's children. When asked, though, she would state that it was an ingenious costume and that many an ensemble was put to shame. Bof!

“Remember what mother said,” Dryea whispered quietly to Alethea before she went off to entertain the circle of single noblemen, “remember your job, don’t you dare let that pathetic friend of yours get in the way.”

“And you remember too!” Adrama hissed back, “I think Rhir might be here tonight, maybe I’ll ask him for a dance!” Dryea smiled inwardly at the mention of his name, but stalked away all the same, glaring at her sister before being swept away into her first dance.

Since masks hid the face of every guest here tonight, even the shyest lad was bold enough to dance with either of the gorgeous duo: Dryea or Siriel. At masques, these two women could relate. After the first twenty or so minutes both were exhausted and men clung to them like prayers to a priest. Though Lady Morthaniawen hadn't yet spotted Siriel, she was sure the young lady was enjoying the same sort of company.

"Dryea!" a familiar voice called, midway through a quaint step with what appeared to be a sword? (Some costumes were really quite ridiculous). The Lady excused herself from her partner and turned to see Rhir. This time her heart didn't jump and a sick evil feeling blanketed her like tar as she felt the ring on her finger.

"Why Rhircyn Isindil as I live and breath what brings you down to the level of madness such as this?" The nobleman was at her side in seconds bending down to steal a kiss. Dryea let him but her mind didn't race with desire.

"Won't you dance with me?" he asked with a bow. Offering him her hand, the couple joined in with the other dancers and Dryea didn't care if her mother saw for after this evening, Ruiel would certainly look at her eldest daughter under a different light.

Child of the 7th Age

08-26-2003, 11:58 AM

Eckthelion's eye methodically swept the ballroom as the Steward weighed and measured the attributes of each member of Finduilas's circle. He was wary of approaching one of the fine ladies who'd accompanied the bride to court. Concerned with pleasing the ruler of Gondor, they'd pick and choose what to reveal, glossing over any unpleasantness. Nor would he gain much insight from questioning the younger servants. Either they'd be overawed by his presence or offer him a laundry list of complaints and rumors with no indication of what was important and what was not. No, he needed to speak with an older member of the household, someone whom Finduilas trusted, a woman with a level head but one who wasn't afraid to voice her concerns.

Eckthelion sauntered over to a side gallery that jutted out from the main hall just off the area where the buffet was set up. Although secluded, it afforded a direct view of the ballroom floor. A cluster of servants had gathered there, eating and chatting and hanging over the balustrade as they gazed out at the dancers. Eckthelion's attention was immediately caught by an unfamiliar figure with dark hair that had only two or three grey tresses interspersed. The woman wore a gown in immaculate taste, suggesting she had some standing among the servants as well as more than the usual share of common sense. He struggled to put a name to the face and mentally scanned the list of retainers whom Finduilas had brought with her until he reached a match.

Ah,....this was Diorwyn the seamstress. She'd left behind a family to come serve her mistress for one last time. What most intrigued Eckthelion was the woman's dark and observent eyes, which seemed to drink in her surroundings, missing very little of importance.

After a few initial titters and giggles on the part of several young maids at the Steward's approach, the crowd of servants respectfully drew back, leaving Eckthelion free to walk forward to the chair where Diorwyn was seated. As the seamstress began to rise in respectful greeting, he cautioned her to sit down again, and drew their two chairs close together to be able to talk without interference.

"Mistress Diorwyn, let me congratulate you. You've outdone yourself with the butterfly gown for the Lady Finduilas. It shows off her gentleness and her high spirits just as my son would want."

Much to Eckthelion's relief, Diorwyn responded with quiet assurance and gave no indication of being overawed. Determined to plunge ahead with his questioning and find some explanation for the unease he sensed in the hall, the Steward reached over and gently lifted up Diorwyn's hand into his own, "It must not be an easy thing for Finduilas to leave the city where she grew up and the sea which she loves with all her heart. Nor can it be easy for those who came with her. But tell me, have the people of Minas Tirith made you feel welcome? Have the ladies at court extended their hand in friendship? I am truly concerned about this for I wish Denethor's bride to be happy."

Diorwyn shifted uneasily in her seat uncertain where to begin and wondering whether or not she should speak the truth. Sensing her discomfort, Eckthelion gently sqeezed the hand of the seamstress to encourage her to continue, "Come now, if there is a problem, it's best to discuss it. I spend from morning till night dealing with the problems of the citizens of Gondor. I have heard all manner of complaints and concerns. Nothing you say could possibly surprise me....."

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Estelyn Telcontar

08-26-2003, 02:16 PM

Diorwyn took a deep breath; after the first shock of being approached and spoken to by the Steward of Minas Tirith, the ruler of all Gondor, had subsided, she realized that this was an opportunity to take action. She hesitated in order to choose her words wisely, then said, “Sir, the hospitality of your house has been all that we could imagine, and indeed were the people of your city friendly to us upon our arrival.”

Ecthelion noticed her reluctance to continue and encouraged her, “There is more than that; speak openly!”

The seamstress sighed inwardly; she had been married long enough to know that she would have to explain clearly to this man what most women would have felt intuitively. Few men could sense the emotional undercurrents that a woman picked up by osmosis, so to say. However, the Steward looked astute and shrewd; he seemed to be a good judge of people, she thought. Suddenly she was glad to be able to entrust her cares to someone who was both wise and mighty enough to do something about them.

“There have been rumours spreading in the past days,” she continued. “We have heard them only indirectly, and no one seems to know where they started or who is the source. They concern Finduilas…” So she told him all that the various ladies and maids had found out, as well as the information she had heard from her friends in the White City. She saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and the muscles of his jaws tighten as he heard the slanderous gossip which had spread throughout the city unchecked.

“Why do you think such horrible rumours would be told about such a wonderful person as Finduilas?” he asked with repressed anger.

Thoughtfully, she replied, “She cannot have made personal enemies. The question is, who would profit from her ruin? The motive could be jealousy, but there must be more to it than that alone. She would not be the only one to suffer – your family and rulership would be brought into discredit as well. Who are your enemies, Steward?”

********************************************

child's post

Eckthelion attempted to maintain an impassive expression while listening to Diorwyn's recitation of the rumors she and the others had heard since their arrival in Minas Tirth. Despite his efforts to conceal his emotions, he felt his fists clench tightly at his side as he bit down on his lip and struggled to stiffle an angry rebuttal.

Instinct told him that this was no mere campaign intended to discredit Denethor's bride-to-be. He would not have been shocked if some women at court had mistaken Finduilas's soft-spoken nature for pride or, rebuffed in their own attempts to latch onto his son for their daughters, had jeeringly taunted the bride for supposed deficiencies in personality, character or dress.

But these rumors were something quite different. Their very nature and purpose suggested an intent more pernicious and far-reaching than mere idle chatter stemming from personal pique or disappointment. It was true that the ridiculous intimation Finduilas and her family were not from Dol Amroth could be easily remedied by having the leaders from that city address the court as to their association with the bride. Several of these gentlemen were expected to arrive for the actual betroval party and wedding. He would have them speak quickly and forcefully to dispel that charge.

No, what bothered him profoundly was the baseless assertion that Finduilas and her folk were descended from some mythical ancestor who had sided with Ar-pharazon in his war of rebellion, worshipping Melkor and carrying out the dictates of Sauron. Baseless, but difficult to disprove without a lengthy inquiry setting out the family's geneology in intimate detail.

The Steward's breath came in short, jagged gasps as he grasped the clever implications behind that groundless assertion. He himself was engaged in a struggle against Sauron and his agents of evil, a struggle that threatened to erupt a thousandfold and drag the entire realm of Gondor down to doom. These rumors that were apparently flooding through the streets of his beloved city suggested that the Steward himself was a fool or a traitor for aligning his family with someone who was herself tainted with the blood of the enemy.

This was more than idle gossip. Whoever was behind such pointed lies had a purpose and a meaning in what they were doing. And that purpose was no less than treason.

He looked down at Diorwyn barely hearing the actual words she was saying, then quickly gathered his wits and responded, "My enemies? Not my enemies, but rather the enemies of Gondor. Only such would spread words like these. But let me think on this well and ponder what must be done."

He rose from his chair and stepped back a few paces, nodding his head in Diorwyn's direction. "You have done this realm a service I will not forget. It is possible that I will call upon you again at some point in the near future. But, for now, please continue to listen and learn. Should you hear anything more of interest, do not hesitate to approach me directly. I will tell the guards that you are to be let through immediately."

With this, Eckthelion turned and strode away, deeply perplexed and wishing that Gandalf and Thorongil were here at court that he might review the matter with them. But, one way or another, he vowed to leave no stone unturned until he discovered who was behind these treasonous lies.

[ August 30, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

alaklondewen

08-27-2003, 10:38 AM

Pelien watched tenderly as Adrama danced with Addruran. Of course, she would have preferred seeing her daughter floating across the floor in the arms of Denethor; however, even though she would not have wholeheartedly condoned a romantic relationship between the two, she couldn’t help admitting to herself that Adrama and Addruran complimented one another well. Her daughter appeared comfortable in the young man’s embrace and the color had returned to her cheeks which was an improvement of her earlier state when Denethor and Finduilas were announced. Pelien had worried about her daughter’s reaction to the couple. She wasn’t pleased with the current situation anymore than Adrama was, but she wasn’t going to cry about it, and she hoped Adrama would keep her emotions intact.

Sador gently took his wife’s hand and lead her around the grand hall. The couple stopped and spoke with several of the men in Sador’s company and their wives who all had one thing on their minds and lips…Finduilas. Pelien nodded pleasantly as the other women whispered about the real identity of the future Steward’s bride-to-be.

More and more she felt like the situation was getting out of hand. If Denethor didn’t find out soon, it would be too late because either the couple would be married or the Steward’s name would be marred, and since she wanted to replace the princess with her own darling daughter, Pelien would not stand having the Steward’s House brought into it.

The music ended and the guests stopped their petty conversations long enough to applaud the couples on the dance floor. Pelien eyed Denethor taking Finduilas off the floor and onto the terrace. Perfect… she thought as she drained her glass.

“Sador, dear, I need some fresh air.” Sador nodded and politely excused them from the current couple. Pelien thrust her empty wine glass into the hands of a passing servant and began walking toward the terrace while her husband brought up the rear. She hadn’t meant to leave Sador behind, but she was on a mission. It was time for Denethor to find out about what was being said about his precious bride, and the wine she’d been drinking had taken the edge off enough to give her the boldness she needed.

As she reached the outside door, Pelien turned impatiently and sent a look to her dawdling husband that made him walk faster. “Look, dear, Denethor and his new bride are over there…we should greet them.” Pelien’s voice was as sweet as honey and just as thick. Sador replied with a sidelong glance before he took her hand and walked over to the Steward’s son.

“Sador, it’s good to see you.” Denethor reached out and gave Sador a firm handshake. “Lady Pelien…” Pelien gracefully held out her hand for the Steward’s son to kiss. “You look…lovely this evening. I believe you have already met Finduilas.” Here, Finduilas smiled sweetly and held her out her hand, but Pelien just looked at it without moving, so Sador took the princess’ hand and slightly bowed making some kind of compliment that Pelien would not allow herself to hear.

While the men complimented one another on this and that and how great the ball was, Pelien never took her eyes from Finduilas. The princess appeared somewhat uncomfortable under the gaze of the snake…dressed woman. I’m on to you, Princess, and soon your fiancé will be too, Pelien thought as a slow sly smile swept across her face. She was only waiting for the right moment to strike.

The conversation moved to politics, as it often did, and they spoke generally about the goings on in Umbar. “Umbar…That’s where Ar-Pharazon captured Sauron, is it not?” The men turned to Pelien with confused expressions not exactly sure where the woman was going with this. The older woman leaned forward with a pseudo smile intact. “Finduilas, you should know that…he is your most famous ancestor.”

The trio gasped, and Sador grabbed Pelien’s arm, but she pulled it loose and tried to continue. “That’s absurd! What are you talking about, Pelien?” Denethor’s brows were furrowed and his head was tipped to one side as he took a step in front of Finduilas.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard. The entire court is raving about it. Well, I’m sure she’d kept it from you, Lord Denethor. However I know she’s known about the talk or she wouldn’t have sent her little ladies to my home to confront me.” Pelien stood firm and never took her hateful gaze from Finduilas except when she spoke directly to the Steward’s son, then she softened her expression to sympathy. He would know now that his precious princess was really trash, and he would send her out with the garbage.

[ August 30, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Manardariel

08-27-2003, 12:22 PM

“Finduilas, you should know that…he is your most famous ancestor.”

Finduilas stared at the woman. Her eyes were glittering with such malcious hate! She was looking triumphant, and yet there was a silent bitterness somewhere around her mouth. Where did this hate come from, this bitterness. When I see her, I see my own mother. The realization hit Finduilas with a shock. Eaten up by ambition and her small, pitiful goals. Her mother had been like this, and Pelien was not different. Finduilas was about to say something when Denethor spoke up. His voice was shaking with authority, disbelief and anger.

“How dare you say such a thing? Lady Pelien, you were always a respectable member of this court, and I had thought you –and your family- were true nobles. But apperantly you are not. Finduilas of Dol Amroth is my chosen bride, for one thing, for another there is no way she could not be of the Ancient Family of Dol Amroth. Do you think the Steward of Gondor would not be aware of who his son and heir was about to marry. Do you really think such a thing could happen in this family? If you do, I must pity you and laugh at you., Lady Pelien. Are you aware of what disgusting lies you are spitting here?”

Finduilas felt a rush of pride and affection at this speach. She gratefully squeezed Denethor´s hand and smiled at him. “Dear, I´m sure this is some kind of misunderstanding. Your father wanted you to join him, why don´t you... I´ll have a nice chat with Lay Pelien here.” Denethor nodded. She quickly mouthed a “Sorry” at him, then turned to Pelien, smiling. Denethor and Sador´s footsteps dissapeared. She was alone. Finduilas felt nervous. She was a kind nature of person, and now she was greeted by such unexpected coldness, such outreagous lies. She knew, her only strength was the truth, and her innosence. She had not done anything, at least not conciously, that could have angered Pelien. Pelien knew this.

“Lady Pelien, I will not offer you a denial about your tales. I´m sure you know for yourself how silly and impossible they are. What I do want to know is this: Why do you hate me this much? For hate me you must, if you risk the stewards´ -and his son´s- anger, to ruin my reputation here. Why?”

*********
Alaklondewen´s Post
It took all the strength she had for Pelien to keep her jaw clinched and her emotions intact. Denethor had not responded the way she had expected. He wasn’t supposed to turn on Pelien…he was supposed to turn on Finduilas. Her face had grown hot, but she refused to let her expression soften. The words of the Steward’s son rolled around in her head until she was almost sick. I thought you were true nobles…I pity you and laugh at you, Lady Pelien… This wasn’t right, and where were the men going? Pelien suddenly found herself face to face with the young bride, so soft and sweet. The older woman was so angry, partly at herself if she would have admitted it, that she could have spit on Finduilas in her rage.

“Lady Pelien, I will not offer you a denial about your tales. I´m sure you know for yourself how silly and impossible they are. What I do want to know is this: Why do you hate me this much? For hate me you must, if you risk the stewards´ -and his son´s- anger, to ruin my reputation here. Why?” Finduilas’ eyes were filled with kindness and sympathy.

Pelien opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it. Finduilas should not be so calm…her secret was just released into the ear of her future husband. The Princess should be shouting and throwing a fit, giving Pelien the advantage of keeping her cool. Pelien was unsure how to handle the situation into which she’d stepped. Doubt had slowly crept into her mind. Had she made a mistake? What about the young ladies of Dol Amroth confronting her in her own home? Yes, that had to be the key…it had to be.
“How very wise of you, Princess, to send the men away. You do have something to hide, or you would never have sent your little mascots to my home.” Pelien felt as though she was regaining control of the situation, and her voice was calm and collected. “You had certainly heard the rumors flying around the court and you couldn’t confront me on your own. Of course you thought of me, I’m one of the most influential women in this city, and if information is what you wanted you came to the right person. But I wasn’t going to play your game…we told them nothing! I’m on to you, Finduilas.”
“Pelien, I truly haven’t the slightest idea of what you are talking about.” Finduilas looked as though she was holding back laughter. “What mascots?…what are you talking about?”

Pelien rolled her eyes upward. “Don’t pretend with me…you know you sent your little ladies-in-waiting to mock me in my home!” Her voice had steadily started to rise, but she caught hold of herself, and after a short pause she continued in a cool, steady tone. “I didn’t fall for it then, and I won’t fall for it now.”

**********
Manardariel´s post
“Don’t pretend with me…you know you sent your little ladies-in-waiting to mock me in my home!" Pelien sayed, sounding agrivated.

This time, Finduilas smiled openly. “My ladies in waiting? I´m so sorry they bothered you. Don´t be mad at those girls, they just didn´t have the education you, or your charming daughter have. Adrama, is it not? She´s very beautiful. Denethor speaks most highly of her.”

Finduilas was most aware of the effect that praise of their daughters have on most women. And really, Finduilas couldn´t help notice the affectionate gleam the wisked through Pelien eyes at her daughter´s name. But her face became cold and stern as ever.

“You really think you can charm me, yes? I know it worked with most of the court, but you aren´t fooling me. You are NOT from Dol Amroth, and I know it. Your husband still believes you, but his mind will change. And then, my dear...”

“...Denethor will marry Adrama?” Finduilas suggested with an air of innocence. Of course. It made perfect, diabolical sense. The whole court had heard these outrageous lies, but Pelien was the only one to confront her with them. Why? Because she would benefit from it. The other ladies didn´t care, as long as there was enough to chat about. But Pelien had a cause she had devoted herself to- her daughter´s fate, and her happiness. And in Pelien´s laguage, this was equivalent with a marriage with Gondor´s future steward. Finduilas had been in the way, so why not get rid of her, was it even by sprouting these tales?! Yes, it all made sense.

“Ah yes,” Finduilas said softly. “That is the answer then. You do not think of the security of Gondor. You are not concerned with the reputation of the House of Stewards. No, you fight for a more important cause: your daughter.” Pelien opened her mouth, but closed it again. Finduilas chose her words well. Strangely, she felt affection towards Pelien. She would fight like a lioness for Adrama´s sake, and in Finduilas eyes that was the proof she wasn´t to be pitied. On the contrary. “Pelien, I will tell you this. My own mother is not unlike you... you wish the security of us, your daughters, and our happiness. In your case, this afforded distroying a woman you did not know. In mine, it afforded bribing a young sea captain into a marriage he did not want. You both will pay this price for us. And you say you love us, say you only do this for our own good...”

Finduilas felt an unexplainable sadness. She did not know where it came from, or why her heart was aching so badly. But she knew it was.

“Lady Pelien, you were right in one thing. I am not who they told you I was. But nevertheless, I remain myself. I am Finduilas of Dol Amroth. Now, let us go in. A splendid fête, is it not?”

As she walked inside, she heard a long pause, then footsteps. Pelien was behind her.

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

Child of the 7th Age

08-27-2003, 12:30 PM

Save for Sophia:

Siriel rushes in and tells her father what she saw.

elven maiden Earwen

08-28-2003, 09:28 AM

Elen stood sipping her drink slowly. She was confused about the Morthaniawen’s. She couldn’t tell if they were from Dol Amroth or not. After she had finished drinking she walked around the large room, looking at everyone’s dresses, and costumes. She smiled when she saw the Lady Pelien. A snake was a very fitting costume for her. After their little tea party I doubt she holds us in a high regard, Elen thought walking past her.

After circling the whole room twice, Elen got bored, and sat down. She watched the people dancing, and smiled when she saw Vienna dancing with a guard. Soon a young man came and asked her for a dance. She accepted and they went and danced. Eleniel hadn’t danced in a while but it was fun. After the dance was over she left to find Averyll or Tessa. Finally she spotted them at their table. She adjusted her corset for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night and headed toward them.

“Hello.” Elen said sitting down. She looked at Averyll and Tessa. Averyll seemed to be all right but Tessa had an odd look on her face. Something was bothering her, and Eleniel knew what.

“The Morthaniawen’s?” Elen asked looking at Tessa.

“Yes. I don’t get it. None of us have heard of them, its just odd.” Tessa said seeming totally confused. Elen knew exactly what she meant.

“There are many reason to believe they aren’t from Dol Amroth but there are also many reason’s why the could be. It just doesn’t make sense”. Elen paused.

“But, if they weren’t from Dol Amroth, than where are they from?”Now Elen was really confused. Where could they be from?

[ August 30, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Novnarwen

08-28-2003, 10:29 AM

Sador didn't really enjoy these things. It was far too huge for him. But he was a respected man, it was therefore appropriate for him to be there.

He took his wife's hand and led her through the grand hall. I'm a man, I should do that sort of stuff, he thought while stopping. "Hi there," Sador said, greeting a man. There was a polite reply before Sador and Pelien started walking again. Not too soon though, they stopped, Sador knew a lot of people.

“Sador, dear, I need some fresh air.” Pelien handed her empty wine glass over to a servant before heading for the terrace. Sador followed. She gave him a 'faster, please' look. Sador took the hint immediately.

“Look, dear, Denethor and his new bride are over there…we should greet them.” Peleien nodded against the coming Steward and Finduilas.

“Sador, it’s good to see you.” Denethor shook Sador's hand. What a polite boy, Sador thought while taking his hand gently.

“You look…lovely this evening. I believe you have already met Finduilas.” Denethor said, while kissing his wife's hand. Sador gave a bow, "A pleasure," he said.

"A splendid ball!" Sador lied afterwards. Denethor smiled looking really proud, but humble. "The guests are greater," Denethor replied. Sador noticed that his wife couldn take her eyes of Finduilas. What's wrong? he thought. Ever since the luncheon he reminded himeself, but his thoughts were interrupted by a political discussion who had appeared quite suddenly Sador thought.

“Umbar…That’s where Ar-Pharazon captured Sauron, is it not?” Pelien said. Sador hesitated. “Finduilas, you should know that…he is your most famous ancestor.” she continued in a proud voice.

Where was this going? He grabbed his rude wife's arm.

“That’s absurd! What are you talking about, Pelien?” Denethor cried out. He stepped in front of Finduilas.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard. The entire court is raving about it. Well, I’m sure she’d kept it from you, Lord Denethor. However I know she’s known about the talk or she wouldn’t have sent her little ladies to my home to confront me.”

“How dare you say such a thing? Lady Pelien, you were always a respectable member of this court, and I had thought you –and your family- were true nobles. But apperantly you are not. Finduilas of Dol Amroth is my chosen bride, for one thing, for another there is no way she could not be of the Ancient Family of Dol Amroth. Do you think the Steward of Gondor would not be aware of who his son and heir was about to marry. Do you really think such a thing could happen in this family? If you do, I must pity you and laugh at you., Lady Pelien. Are you aware of what disgusting lies you are spitting here?”

Sador didn't listen anymore. He couldn't. He was too stunned by his wife's sudden 'attack'. Where did she have these accusations from?

“Dear, I´m sure this is some kind of misunderstanding. Your father wanted you to join him, why don´t you... I´ll have a nice chat with Lay Pelien here.” Denethor gave a nod.

Sador took his gaze of his wife. How surprising, he thought while following Denethor.

[ September 11, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Child of the 7th Age

08-29-2003, 05:50 AM

Eckthelion was in the midst of a pleasant conversation with several elderly advisors when a loud crash was heard. His own eyes, and those of most others in the room, were instantly drawn across the ballroom. An elegant vase with fine sprigs of flowers displayed on a table near the entryway had collapsed on the floor and lay shattered in a thousand pieces.

The reason for this mishap was all too obvious. Siriel was picking herself up off the floor and sprinting forward clutching a small scrap of a broken dispatch in her clenched hand.

Eckthelion's eyes widened with disapproval as he took in

under construction

[ September 07, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

08-30-2003, 09:04 AM

Orofaniel's post:

After the little conversation with the servant, Betuli had tried to keep a low profile. She didn't want to do anything 'wrong' or something that could be misunderstood. She hadn't seen the servant since and didn't really want to either. Even though, it was obvious that the servant knew something that they could use.

It had become an unplesant situation, Betuli thought. She didn't like it, in fact, she didn't like it at all. She just wanted....She just wanted to see her dear Lady, Finduilas, happy. How can some people even think of ruining that? The thought made her angry and very sad, indeed.

[ September 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

maikafanawen

08-30-2003, 01:55 PM

The song ended and Rhir escorted Dryea off the floor and got them both a glass of wine. The lights were being relit to accommodate to the growing darkness outside. Her hands shook as she watched Rhir sip idly from his cup. No, she thought. It's too early. He'll be having more wine tonight anyway.

"A masquerade is the most enjoyable sort of social, don't you think?" he asked watching all the costumes.

"Oh yes," Dryea agreed mildly. "I especially like Finduilas's costume." She nodded in the princess's direction. She was glad to see that Rhir only glanced her way before surveying the rest of the people's finery.

"Which is your favorite costume?" she asked plainly, hoping he'd drop his interest in the costumes and speak more directly with her. They only had a few more hours together before—well, a few more hours and it was beginning to rend at her heart.

"Yours," he said, turning to look at her own ensemble. "Definitely." Dryea studied his face: so full of love and adoration. His features were so handsome and soft. She was breaking. "Let's walk outside," he said offering her his arm. She only nodded, afraid that in speaking she'd choke. Why was she being so delicate? She had to get a hold on herself.

The moonlight streamed across the terrace alighting the flowers and footpaths that ran off into the secluded parts of the garden. Rhir chose one of these footpaths and the two walked quietly to a bench shrouded by a rose hedge.

"Your brothers and sisters," he whispered pointing at the flowers. Dryea smiled, she couldn't help it. He was so simple and so pure! "Um, Dryea," he stammered, motioning for her to sit on the bench. "I wanted to ask you something." She leaned back on the bench in a comfortable position, hoping that it would help Rhir relax a bit. She didn't want to deal with an awkward man right now. It seemed to work. He took a deep breath and sat on the bench beside her.

"Dryea," he began again, confidently. "How do you feel about us?" She laughed and leaned up next to him.

"What do you mean?" He looked away.

"I mean, do—" Then he turned and wrapped his arms around her, their faces so close they barely touched as he whispered.

"I love you, Dryea. I really do. I love you so much and I don't know what I'd do without you." The tears formed in her eyes but she held them back. "And I want to know if you love me too, because if you do," he stammered. "If you do, then—" She couldn't do it. She gave in. She collapsed into his arms, laying her head on his chest, letting him hold her and keep her safe beside him.

"Oh I do Rhir! I love you!" Pulling back, his face beaming, he slid off the bench, kneeling on one knee.

"Then," he pulled a beautiful gold ring adorned with a small ruby rose from within his coat pocket and held it before her. "Will you marry me?" Frozen inside, her ambivalent emotions of devotion to him and devotion to Umbar raging within her. What could she do? She had a duty to fulfill! She'd sworn so long ago that she would uphold her family's goal of conquest over the Gondorian peoples who robbed them of their land and rights. It had been a pledge, a vow made all those years ago of dedication unbreakable by anything!

But as Rhir knelt before her, all that sense of honor died within and she only saw him. His blue eyes of passion and devoted love. Her heart conquered her mind then in that moment and her hands reached for the ring as Rhir slipped it on her finger.

"Yes," she said. "Oh yes! I'll marry you Rhir!" She threw his arms around his neck and kissed him all over. Then Rhir kissed her long and hard on her lips and she seemed to melt.

"I love you," he whispered, "forever." Then they stood. "I must go," Dryea said, apologetically. "I'm supposed to be with mother when we meet Finduilas." He nodded.

"I'll find you then." Then he moved away into the shadows up towards the house. Once she was sure he had gone inside she collapsed on the bench and sobbed, wishing her life away.

She stayed like that for ten minutes before regaining her composure. Knowing for sure she had soiled her cosmetics and probably wrinkled her dress she snuck around to a side door of the citadel and made her way up to one of the smaller powder rooms that would certainly be empty. Once there she freshened up quickly until she looked just as she did when the masque had started. When she was sure no one was nearby, she emerged, ready to go downstairs.

She had reached the top of her stairs when her mother came rushing up. "You!" she hissed as she saw Dryea. Ruiel's hand shot down to Dryea's left and pulled it up so that she saw the ring. Her daughter waited in terror for her mother's wrath.

"I thought I heard you two in the gardens! You have destroyed all glory for yourself now! Your folly has cost us, Dryea. I should send you back now for trial. You disgraceful wretch!" She stepped back to look at her daughter in full light. "I am disgusted!" Dryea lashed back.

"I haven't done a thing! This will uphold our innocence! My marrying Rhir no one will ever suspect we're Umbarians! We'll be safe—"

"By Eru you are not marrying Rhircyn Isindil," she whispered furiously, "and I will do whatever it takes to keep you two apart." With that she turned on her heel and returned to the hall leaving Dryea fuming in rage.

Collecting her emotions and hiding them carefully, she made her way down the hall to enter the great room from a different entrance than her mother. Ruiel was right. Dryea had been foolish and she knew it. There was nothing she could do to get out of the vow she had made to Umbar. She had condemned herself from any hope of a happy future. Everything she did had to be of benefit to the retake of Gondor. There was no such person as Dryea Morthaniawen. She was simply a playing piece in Umbar's chess game. She had no say in what she got or deserved. Whatever Umbar saw fit through her mother's guidance, is what she received.

There was only one way she could go to regain her mother's respect. There was only one path she could take to fix all the mess she had caused. Her heart had been ripped out and torn apart as she thought of this. All her love for Rhir was sucked up in the vacuum of what was expected of Dryea to do. She would never love again and her life from here out would be an austere misery.

The great room was in a resplendent mood when she entered. The dancers were making a large loop around the floor while the orchestra played a traditional Gondorian Waltz. Dryea's eyes swept the room looking for Rhir. She found him speaking with a group of students near the mid-left of the room. Walking majestically through the very center of the room, her face a mask of levity and light-heartedness, she shook hands with all her friends and acquaintances asking them politely of their health and if they were enjoying themselves. Finally she got to Rhir who introduced her to his friends as the future Mrs. Rhircyn Isindil.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Elena who rushed up behind her, Emilia close behind. "How wonderful!" Dryea summoned a smile of pure ecstasy as she embraced her friends.

"We're so happy for you dear!" said Emilia. The two left Dryea and Rhir to dance as Elena was caught up by her scholarly friends and Emilia by her many admirers.

As the couple spun around the floor, Dryea caught sight of her sister and mother speaking at the banquet table. Alethea cast a loathing eye towards her sister before turning back to her conversation.

"I'm thirsty," Dryea confessed after the fourth dance.

"Of course." Rhir and Dryea joined the other guests at the banquet table where they sat down to a wonderful feast of fowl dressed in exotic fruits and herbs from the southern parts of Arda to match the colorful tastes of the masque.

Rhir was about to pour himself more wine from the pitcher when Dryea opened her ring. She tugged at the tablecloth so that the glass tipped her way before a drop fell. She caught it just as it rolled off the table, emptying the near-invisible contents into the bottom.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, setting it back on the table. Rhir shrugged it off with a smile, absorbed in the love he felt for his new fiancé, and filled his cup, unaware of the poison within.

She was almost through her third course when Alethea came by asking for a word with her older sister. Dryea no long felt things since Rhir drank of his intoxicated wine so she stood pleasantly and followed her sister out of the great hall to a secluded room. Once inside, Alethea turned on her sister, ranting of her betrayal.

"And I was beginning to feel guilty about mentioning Rhir!" she finished. Dyrea narrowed her eyes and in a slow, meaningful tone began to tell Alethea just what she thought.

"You don't know anything you silly pathetic little girl. You have no idea what I've had to deal with. I've had to give up everything I've ever hoped for, for Umbar and its Corsairs! There is no Dryea Morthaniawen. I am just an instrument of war, a tool that the corsairs can use to regain Gondor for themselves. Do you have any idea of this burden's weight upon my shoulders? NO! So the next time you want to take up mother's side and decide to chastise me, remember that I rise way above you! You will never measure up to me and without me, our whole plan would fall apart." She stopped to look disgustedly at her sister. "Now get back to your playing!" Picking up her skirts, and wiping the glare off her face, Dryea left her sister shocked, and joined the people again after being retained from the festivity for the third time that evening.

"What was that about love?" asked Rhir as he nodded to the servants to take their plates away.

"She wanted to congratulate me on our engagement," Dryea said pleasantly.

"How nice," he commented. Dryea took her seat and began to nibble on her dessert as the music reached the crescendo in its aria and Denethor and Finduilas spun around the dance floor in their perfect love.

[ September 10, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Arien

09-01-2003, 06:18 AM

"And I was beginning to feel guilty about mentioning Rhir!" she finished. Dyrea narrowed her eyes and in a slow, meaningful tone began to tell Alethea just what she thought.

"You don't know anything you silly pathetic little girl. You have no idea what I've had to deal with. I've had to give up everything I've ever hoped for, for Umbar and its Corsairs! There is no Dryea Morthaniawen. I am just an instrument of war, a tool that the Corsairs can use to regain Gondor for themselves. Do you have any idea of this burden's weight upon my shoulders? NO! So the next time you want to take up mother's side and decide to chastise me, remember that I rise way above you! You will never measure up to me and without me, our whole plan would fall apart." She stopped to look disgustedly at Alethea. "Now get back to your playing!" And then she left, but before she did Alethea managed to cry.

“I would never want to measure up to you!” she was not concerned if anyone heard, it didn’t matter as long as Dryea heard. Alethea collapsed back into the nearest chair; she was in shock. What was happening? Rhir had proposed to her sister, and ordinarily she would have been pleased. But of late it seemed that if she could find anyway to spite Dryea she would be open to it. It wasn’t that she was envious of her. No. Alethea meant it when she said she would never want to measure up to Dryea. Alethea hated some things about Dryea, and hate was such a strong word. And against her sister! She hated the way she blamed the way she was on The Corsairs. It was their fault but Dryea had a mind of her own.

She hated her pride, the way that Dryea made her feel insignificant next to her radiant self, the way she would always make her feel guilty no matter who’s fault it was. She even made her feel guilty now, after all she had said to her Alethea felt at fault. Alethea buried her head in her hands. She did not know what to think of the situation. Her sister hated her, her mother seemed some how to resent or disregard her existence. But then she always had done and that had made no difference to Alethea. And far more significant than her own distress was war. War that was unavoidable and war that was being aided by her own family, her own blood.

There was no need for it, the Corsairs were too proud, just like Dryea. Too proud and stubborn for their own good. And Alethea hated being one. She loathed being connected with them and she always had, just now that odium felt stronger. Stronger than anything she had ever deemed. Alethea raised her face from her hands fumbled with the feathers on her dress thoughtfully. Slowly she rose and looked into the mirror on the dressing table.

“I hate what I am!” she whispered into the dimly lit mirror, “I hate it,” she said a little louder banging her fist on the table hard. Tears formed in her eyes but they was quickly swept away with her hand and looked into the mirror again.

“ I think she is false!" she said it boldly and flatly, "this whole act she is putting on! Who does it fool? Her sweet smile, the air of innocence about her, even her beauty. She has fooled many of them, 'she is the perfect bride!' they all say over their over filled wine glasses and their overfilled heads. I don't know who she thinks she is fooling, but it is not I."

She glared into the mirror and she could reprimand her self for her vindictive words about Finduilas because of what lies she was being pressured to sow. She did not even know the woman, she was even worse than those in the court. But of these words concerning Dryea, they were all true. She would not punish herself for thinking the truth.

“Alethea?” Alethea jumped and spun round to the door. It was Adrama. “I thought you were in here, where is Dryea?”

“She has gone back to the ballroom…..” Alethea replied airily wiping a few more tears from her eyes. What she would do to tell her friend all that she was going through, but she cold not do that. “And I am going back now….” Alethea left the room with Adrama and the two headed back to the masquerade.

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

Ealasaid

09-01-2003, 11:44 AM

“But, if they weren’t from Dol Amroth, then where are they from?” asked Elen, looking at Tessa.

Averyll knit her brows and looked across the room to where she had seen Lady Dryea earlier, standing with her sister. Now, that was an interesting question. If Tessa had never heard of them and Vieana’s six gossipy sisters had never even mentioned them, then there was definitely a problem. Never one to look for trouble where there was none, Averyll found herself bothered by the question. What troubled her even more was the fact that she had heard the Morthaniawen name before arriving in Minas Tirith. When she had first been introduced to the ladies Morthaniawen at the welcoming ball, she had been struck with a twinge of recognition but, unable to pin it down, she had let it go. Now the question gnawed at her. Where had she encountered the name before? She couldn’t remember how or where, but had a feeling it had something to do with her late husband. Perhaps he had owed them money.

Tessa shrugged in answer to Elen’s question. “That’s root of the problem, isn’t it?” she replied. “If we knew that, I have a feeling we would know a lot more about what is happening around here.” It was then that Tessa noticed Averyll’s puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”

Averyll shook her head. “I’m not sure.” Having come to the Masquerade as a Shepherdess, she shifted her shepherd’s crook into her other hand. “I just wish I had sense enough to have picked a costume that didn’t have any props to carry.”

The others laughed, but Elen continued to look troubled. “For a second there, you looked like you might know something we don’t about the Morthaniawens,” she said rather stubbornly.

Again, Averyll shook her head. “No, honestly, I don’t. It’s just…” She looked again in the direction of Lady Dryea, who was now dancing with one of the Minas Tirith courtiers. “It’s just that I know that name from somewhere.”

“Where?” asked Tessa.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” Followed by her two friends, Averyll stepped back into an alcove, where the three of them put their heads close together. Averyll’s voice was barely audible above the music. “As you probably know,” she said quietly. “My late husband was something of a scoundrel.”

Tessa and Elen both nodded, making sympathetic noises in their throats. They were very familiar with the unfortunate circumstances of Averyll‘s marriage and subsequent widowhood.

“After he was lost at sea, I was put in the situation of settling his affairs. In doing so, I encountered any number of people, both respectable and otherwise, to whom he owed money or satisfaction of some kind. I think I encountered the Morthaniawen name there. I just can’t remember the circumstances.”

Tessa and Elen both nodded, but Tessa looked frustrated. “I wish you could remember something,” she sighed. “It could be important.”

Averyll shrugged helplessly. “It could be, but it could just as well be nothing.” She looked out again across the dance floor, this time catching sight of Vieana on the arm of yet another of the Dol Amroth guards. “I wonder what our Vieana has managed to find out from the guards,” she commented, following Vieana with her eyes.

*Varda*

09-01-2003, 01:07 PM

Elena walked through the hall with her friends, after she and Emilia had admired Dryea’s ring. Engaged to Rhir? Elena hadn’t been expecting that to happen – Dryea was never open about her feelings for him.

There was a strange atmosphere in the room that night. While the majority carried on dancing, and drinking, and sharing idle gossip with their friends and acquaintances, a few seemed strangely distracted. Emilia had disappeared somewhere – Dryea and Alethea too, were nowhere to be seen. Finduilas, who had been the centre of attention only an hour before, had vanished into the sea of butterflies and birds. Pelien, always anxious to make her presence known, was certainly not in the room.

Looking around the room for these people, Elena saw no sign of them anywhere. Leaving her friends abruptly, she left the room, pushing her way past all the feathers and finery to find herself in the refreshingly cool air of the night.

Stepping quietly across the terrace, she heard voices carry across the air. Both were familiar – it was undoubtedly Pelien and Finduilas. But why would the two of them be talking?

“Lady Pelien, you were right in one thing. I am not who they told you I was. But nevertheless, I remain myself. I am Finduilas of Dol Amroth. Now, let us go in. A splendid fête, is it not?”

Finduilas walked past Elena, who was standing in the shadows, her eyes widening at this. Pelien had confronted Finduilas with the rumours? And clearly…Finduilas had denied it. Behind Finduilas walked a visibly shaken Pelien, all her usual air of confidence gone from her.

Finduilas gone, Elena stepped out as Pelien went by, touching her by the arm. Pelien let out a small gasp, before realising who it was.

“Lady Pelien, what has happened? You spoke to Finduilas, I see that, but what did she say?” Elena looked into Pelien’s eyes, searching for a response. Had the rumours been just that, rumours? Were they really all lies?

Lyra Greenleaf

09-01-2003, 02:28 PM

Emilia hated to miss even a second of such a wonderful ball by doing something as trivial as getting her breath back, but it was unavoidable. She hadn't sat down for hours, between being whisked around the dancefloor and... well, being whisked around the dancefloor!

She smiled smugly to herself as she thought of the amount of young men she had danced with- more than anyone else, she was sure!

Sadly the one man who she did not seem to have danced with was Thenidir. In fact she had not seen him all evening. It was a great pity because while he might be a horrible young man, he would look very well dressed up. Once more Emilia gazed around to look for him, and was gratified to spot him. It appeared he had just entered. Almost as if he had felt her eyes on him, he looked up, smiled and bowed his head. Emilia nodded gravely in return, not allowing him to see that she was pleased. However inside she felt happiness explode like warmth. Perhaps she wuld do as her mother had wanted- and indeed follow her own dearest wishes- and become betrothed this season? True Thenidir did not offer as much power as Emilia could wish, but a good soldier had many oppurtunities to advance.

Emilia was involved in many pleasant imaginings for the fture when a voice split her thoughts.

"You don't know anything you silly pathetic little girl!"

Turning, Emilia saw a door behind her that was not quite closed. Heavy brocade covered the wall, and part of it had caught in the doorway, leaving a sliver of light between the door and the frame. Eagerly Emilia edged closer. There was something familiar about the voice, but she had no idea who it was.

"...ever hoped for, for Umbar and its Corsairs! There is no Dryea Morthaniawen. I am just an instrument of war, a tool that the corsairs can use to regain Gondor for themselves. Do you have any idea of this burden's weight upon my shoulders? NO! So the next time you want to take up mother's side and decide to chastise me, remember that I rise way above you! You will never measure up to me and without me, our whole plan would fall apart."

Emilia felt criously unreal, as if everything was happening in a dream. The voice was Dryea's, but subtley changed. There was a hard edge that Emilia had never heard before, and even a hint of an accent in the most impassioned parts of speech. Head spinning, Emilia only just had enough presence of mind to pull herself away from the door at the sound of rustling skirts drawing near to it.

Quickly she left the ballroom, entering the cool corridor and leaning inelegantly on a pillar helped to clear her head. Dryea was a traitor, a spy! It seemed incredible, more incredible than Finduilas' descent. Suddenly Emilia's mouth felt dry. If Dryea was nt from Dol Amroth, she could not know whether Finduilas was or not. Finduilas was probably all she claimed to be! Emilia felt faint and was glad of the pillar's support.

She had come so close to throwing her chance for success away on an imposter. She still hadn't introduced herself to Finduilas, the future wife of the future steward! She had been manipulated. White hot anger coursed through her veins at the thought of what Dryea could have done to her.

Thoughts swam confusedly in her head, but then all at once they condensed into just one thought. Now, after so long, she had power. Unbelievable power. She could make herself invaluable to the steward with this. Not only had she heard Dryea confess, she had heard a huge argument with her sister! That could be exploited, certainly.

Pleasant plans once again filled her head, and excitedly she returned to the ballroom. Ecthelion was not there, but she saw the Lady Tiriel standing beside the dancefloor.
"My lady" Emilia said, curtseying hurriedly. Ignoring propriety she continued with a rush. "Please my lady I must talk with your father. It is imperative to Gondor's safety. Please, will you take me to him?"

[ September 02, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[ September 02, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

alaklondewen

09-03-2003, 06:24 PM

As she followed Finduilas back toward the door and the masquerade Pelien felt as though she’d been slapped in the face. Her feelings and her ego were incredibly bruised, and she walked with her eyes to the floor while the previous conversation whirled through her mind. Her humiliation had fully let the doubt that was only a seed earlier grow until it was thriving. She’d made a serious mistake and had done something that was completely out of her character. What caused her to go to such extreme measures? Finduilas was right…Pelien had acted purely out of love for her daughter, and she hadn’t cared who she hurt to bring about Adrama’s best interests.

A soft touch to her arm startled Pelien out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see the young Elena whose eyes were wide as the looked into the older woman’s face. Pelien’s eyes were on the verge of watering, but she swallowed and held herself together.

“Lady Pelien, what has happened? You spoke to Finduilas, I see that, but what did she say?” The girl’s concern filled her face.

Pelien remained silent for several moments not knowing how she should reply. No one needed to know what she’d been through, yet somewhere deep inside she wanted to tell Elena everything and cry on her shoulder. Pelien took and deep breath while straightening her shoulders and raising her chin bringing back the proud demeanor that held her together.

“You are right, Elena. I did speak with her…and Denethor before.” Pelien’s eyes unconsciously moved away from Elena’s trying to hide their shame. “I think we’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything, but everyone in the court is talking and I just couldn’t let her get away any longer.” The woman spoke quickly trying to rationalize her actions, and then she continued in a soft voice. “I made a mistake, and now I have to make it right.”

Elena reached out and laid her hand on Pelien’s arm in an almost affectionate manner, and somehow it comforted the older woman. “I am sorry, Elena, but I must go.” With that Pelien hurried back to the ball.

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Child of the 7th Age

09-04-2003, 12:49 AM

Eckthelion watched as the excitement and bustle of the evening slowly played itself out. Empty wineglasses, half eaten platters of meats and sweet delicacies, and a few gentlemen who appeared to be definitely tipsy....it was all that remained of the earlier gaiety and high spirits.

The hands on the clock showed close to midnight as many of the guests gathered up their wraps and bags preparing to leave. Eckthelion forced himself to stay inside the hall and put on a gracious air until the very end of the evening. Yet all the joy had long since departed.

Diorwyn's somber words and Siriel's wild accusations had driven away whatever comfort or relaxation he'd taken from the night. At the last minute, just as he was about to retire from the hall and return to his chambers, Tiriel came bounding up to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Father, my friend Emilia has something she wishes to tell you, something important."

Eckthelion leaned over and sighed, smiling down at his daughter and laughing. "For you Tiriel,....anything. I'll gladly speak with this friend of yours, but just not tonight. Too much has happened, and my head is pounding. Perhaps, she could come to my office tomorrow, once we've all had the luxury of a good night's sleep."

Eckthelion turned to face Emilia, "I'll tell the guards to let you through. Just come in the side entrance next to the rose garden."

With that, Eckthelion bowed formally to the two women and made his way out the hall and along the corridor to the family's private wing.

[ September 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

maikafanawen

09-04-2003, 08:22 PM

The evening was coming to a close and the band was playing their last piece before all the guests retired. Dryea and Rhir were making their final circle around the dance floor and Alethea and Ruiel had turned in long before and only a few people were left. Finally the music stopped. Lord Isindil offered his arm to his lady and escorted her to the carriage that waited to take the Morthaniawens home. They stopped at the second flight of steps outside the front door.

"I won't sleep at all tonight," he confessed looking at the ring on her finger. "I'm simply to ecstatic." Dryea smiled and moved her hand so that she might see the rose. So much had happened that evening and only one for the good but even that was short lived. Rhir cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her. "Goodnight," he said. She watched painfully as he walked back up the stairs to the house. She would never see him again.

It was as though a gnarled hand had set its grip on her stomach and was squeezing with all its wicked might. He turned at the top and blew her a kiss. Then he opened the front door and was gone: out of view and out of life. It was the worst experience she'd ever had. Over and over the same question ran through her mind. Why? Why must it be so? And the same answer would accompany: because she'd win her mother's trust, respect and appreciation. It was necessary.

All the vibrant beauty that was once so evident in her face was gone now. Her heart was stone and no emotions lingered in her pretty head. It was all an act from here on out. She'd have to force all the wittiness and charm now. Nothing would be genuine. Nothing would be true.

The ride home went very quickly and it seemed like moments before they were home. Without a word to her mother or sister she mounted the stair cases to her room and shut herself inside, locking the door before turning and walking to her wall-size window that overlooked the East side of the house's garden. The last of her emotions bottled inside exploded. Silent tears streamed down her face and her chin quivered. Then her knees gave out and she collapsed on the window seat in heaving sobs.

"No!" she shouted into the pillow, her tears mixing with spit. "Oh Eru...." She ripped at her hair, pulling it down around her shoulders and then raking her fingers through it so it hung very limp to her back. Then she discarded her dress. The bath was full of steaming water so she slipped in for a moment or so to wash off all the glitter and cosmetics. She was still crying and she felt terrible. When she reached up for the soap, she realized her ring was still on and she began sobbing even harder.

Dryea got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a robe as she stood dripping wet and crying in the middle of her room. She didn't care anymore about anything. To hell with the corsairs and their mission! She had made a mistake falling in love with Rhir. She had paid for it. It had destroyed her.

The ring she kept on her finger as she dried herself and put on a nightdress. Then, still crying to herself she slipped into her bed and under the covers. She knew she wouldn't sleep. Things of the night seldom do. And that's what she was: a shadow. The woman felt neither living nor dead. She just was.

* * * * *

Rhircyn Isindil hummed to himself and walked with a slight hop to his step as he made his way to the corridor where his family was staying. He opened the door and laid his gloves and cane on the chair by the door. It had been a marvelous night. He undressed and bathed and dressed again before getting in bed.

By one he was asleep and dreaming contentedly of Dryea.

At around two fifty he woke. Something was wrong. He couldn't breathe! There was something inside his stomach....something moving and eating. A searing pain stabbed like a knife in his side, then again in his back. He convulsed suddenly, his chest shooting into the air and his back arching over the bed. Then another stab of pain made him curl into a ball. In another minute he was exhausted and the pain had ceased.

He sat up and groped for a glass of water that sat by his bed taking a sip then splashing it in his face. All the pain was gone except for a slight cramp in his back from the seizure. Confused at what had happened, he smoothed out the covers and punched his pillow back into a fluffy state. Then he lied down again peacefully. In ten seconds he breathed his last and was no more.

* * * * *

Dryea was still awake when this happened and was holding her nocturnal dial up to the star. It was three a.m. Rhir was dead. She waited for the sobs to come. They didn't. Her days with a human heart were over. She tossed her dial out the window. She didn't know why but it seemed like a good thing to do. She didn't want it. She didn't care. Dryea finally slipped into bed around four thirty and slept until ten, awaking only when Rheaite came running into her room in hysterics.

"Rhir! Oh Dryea Rhir! He's—he's—" she collapsed into a sobbing mess. "He's dead my Lady." Dryea turned over in bed away from the light that streamed in through the window as the sun rose. A few tears slid silently down her face. She didn't know what she had expected. Perhaps that the poison wouldn't work? No....she knew it would. The tears were an act. She'd have to wear black today. Dryea didn't want to get up. She decided to stay in bed until her mother came to see her.

[ September 10, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

Everdawn

09-05-2003, 01:10 AM

Vieana had spent most of the rest of the night with the Dol Amroth guards, finding out as much as she could about what was going on. And as The Dol Amroth guards had no leader in the city, Vieana felt, as wife of the captain Dardanir who was the High Guard's son, she felt as though it was her duty to know at least what was happening.

Both guards Naian and Hiruil had escorted her back to the place where the Dol Amroth ladies were staying much later as they had satyed and talked and Vieana had wrote to her husband and told him not to worry.

Many candles were already out when Vieana went inside. Placing her swan mask on the solid oak sideboard she reached for a candlestick and lit it. Vieana quietly then tried to walk up the stairs to find the other girls had gone to sleep. She went to find Tessa, Averyll and Elen who were all surprised when she woke them. "come into the sitting room" she had told every single one.

"What is so important it could not wait till the morning?" Tessa asked when she was given a cup of tea by Lessawen, who had stayed at home during the whole affair. "You know, I probably saved us all from a nasty scene tonight." Vieana started. "Nasty scene? You were dancing!" Elen cried.

"The Dol Amroth guards had heard the tales being told about dear Finduilas. They were getting very angry. I had to say that i already knew about them for the guard Naian to tell me anything." Vieana paused and sipped her tea.

"Which was?" inquired Averyll from her left side. "Oh! yes, It seems that the Minas Tirith guards are loosing faith in the steward's son. They are making snide comments to the Dol Amroth guards on numerous occasions i understand. It was getting ot the stage that i think a fight might break out. I heard this as well when i was returning to the barraks with the Dol Amroth guards for further telling."

Vieana hesitated as though she were about to relive a nightmare. "One of the passing Minas Tirith guards (not seeing me ofcourse) said in passing "Next thing you know, corsairs will be running the place! With one wed to the steward's heir." I was about to speak up when one of the other guards yelled at the Minas Tirith guard. (Who saw me) and replied, "Is that another of your pirates of Dol Amroth eh?"

Vieana shuddered. "Naian started at him. "Ill have you know this is the lady Vieana, she is the daughter in law of the Dol Amroth general. My lord were to hear of this insult against his wife..." I stopped him from saying anymore. Can you imagine it? Me a corsair! Why, i dont even know how to wield a blade!"

She was quite upset now. "Then i wrote to Dardanir, asking advice, and i told him not to worry. I know Dardanir and he knows i can handly diplomacy myself. I expect an answer any day henceforth." She replied and looked at the other ladies waiting for their comments.

Manardariel

09-05-2003, 10:27 AM

When Vieana woke her, Tessa had been sleepy eyed and grouchy. But as the woman launched into her report, Tessa felt herself waking up. Her hands shook with anger she she got up from her chair and walked to the window.

“You have GOT to be kidding me. That´s what they said?! But- but- scum! Dirtbags! Rotten, disgusting dirtbags. How can they dare to even think such a thing?!”

Tessa´s eyes filled with tears, tears of anger, frustration and doubt. She felt hot, bitter hate fill through her. It was not fair. None of them had really wanted to come here, Finduilas least of all. And now they were here, trying to cope- but no one seemed to acknowledge that. No one bothered. And Tessa knew they wouldn´t, ever, unless something outrageous happened. If the ladies had decided to hate them, there was nothing Tessa, or Averyll, or Vieana could do about it. Their hands were bound.

“But who would say such a thing?”

Tessa looked up. Elen had posed the question, innocently an confused. But the question really was: who was interested in weakening Finduilas? Someone interested in weaking the steward-to-be! It it Tessa with a shock. Suddenly, it all became painfully clear. As if someone had pulled a curtain away from her eyes, she suddenly understood. This was not about idle rumors, about tooth-picking. This was about big politics, about the kind of thing that effected everyone in Gondor, from Lady Pelien to the fishers in Dol Amroth.

“Girls,” Tessa said, trying to calm herself. “Girls, this is big. For all we know, these rumors are something that is supposed to weaken Finduilas. But by weakening her, they also weaken Denethor. And who would be interested in weakening the steward-to-be? None of the ladies among this court, I´m sure....It´s someone who would desire a weak steward....and a weak nation.”

“You don´t think it could be.....?,”Vieana asked, paling. “You´re not thinking of the corsairs, are you?”

“I am.” Tessa replied. Corsairs. Scenes were playing in Tessa´s mind, tales of attacs on ships and villages at Lasgalen. For all her life, the only thing that had scared her, or her father, were corsair attacs. Don´t go into the city at night. The corsairs could get you. That´s what people had told her. She´d have thought Minas Tirith was safer than Dol Amroth. Well she´d been wrong. This was not right, this was not true. Why was she stranded in world politics? she had come here in search for freedom, and now this.

“But what do we know? We´re just guessing here, we have no proof. And besides, who could it be? It´s not lile a bunch of corsairs could be kicking around with out anyone noticing it. That´s not going to help us at all.” Averyll had said what they all were thinking secretly. Tessa felt the strength, the exitement drown out of her again. She was tired, very tired. She wanted to sleep, she wanted to cuddle in Finduilas arms and hear the crying of the gulls. She wanted to go home

“This is too big for me. Good night, girls.”

She went upstairs, cuddling in her blankets. She could tell her sister was still awake, and so, without saying a words, she crept in her arms, and felt her sister rock her to sleep.

Finduilas lay awake, Tessa snoring peacefully in her arms. She could not sleep. Very gently, she kissed her siter on the forehead, then got put of bed. She walked to balcony, staring outside, looking at the moon. She knew she was not the only one who could not sleep tonight.

[ September 07, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

Arien

09-05-2003, 12:35 PM

Alethea rose from her bed slowly, her hair fell idly to her waist and her speckled eyes glistened with tears. Her cheeks and pillows were damp from the salty tears she had cried during the night, they flowed as if they had a mind of their own and she could not stop them. Her night had been a restless one and she had drifted in and out of dreaming frequently plagued by the thoughts of her sister, mother, the Corsairs and Rhir. She walked to the large curtains and drew them, the sun immersed the room in warm forgiving light and the tears that still lingered on Alethea’s cheeks shimmered in the rays.

She sat herself down on the windowsill and looked out over the front gates. It was rather late and the early morning dew was grasping on to the blades of grass on the front grounds. The fog hung lightly in the air now and allowed the main gate to be obscured from her view slightly, but she did not miss the messenger who entered the gate. Her eyes followed him carefully as he drew closer to the main door; he was from Minas Tirith. Probably for another guest she assured herself; maybe a wedding invitation or another Ball.

Alethea eyed the messenger as he dismounted his horse and was met in halfway to the door by Rheaite. They conversed for a while and then she covered her mouth with her hand as if in shock. The messenger nodded and mounted the horse again and he was off leaving Rhe by herself. Slowly she made her way back inside. Alethea frowned; she had received some sort of grievous news; that was established by the expression upon her face. But what I wonder?

Alethea’s bare feet softly hit the floor and she found a sudden haste inside of her, she quickly threw he dressing gown over her nightclothes and pulled open her door. She ran down the dim corridor and to a small set of stairs. She had already missed Rhe but Meirelle was at the bottom of the stairs. Her expression was blank until she saw Alethea running down the stairs towards her.

“Alethea!” She called.

“Meirelle, what is it. What news did that messenger bring?”

Alethea was only halfway down the stairs when Meirelle told her, “It is Rhircyn Isindil, he is…dead…”, Alethea stopped; a look of disbelief took over her.

“No…” Alethea whispered confused, “no….” this time she need the banister for support, she reached out and caught it. Tears formed in her eyes again and she shook her head staring at the now blurry carpet.

“Are…do you?” Stuttered Meirelle, she was at a loss of what to do. But it Alethea shook her head.

“You can go….” She managed to say as her grip tightened on the banister. Meirelle did not question her again, but left her in the shadowy hall. When she had gone Alethea slid slowly to the floor, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and her head leaned against the banister pole. Tears started to flow again, they were slow but persistent and though she tried hard to put them at bay she was unable. He had died? But how and what of Dryea? And now the guilt flooded in again; that guilt of her hatred for Dryea.

Don’t really hate her; she is my sister. And what a thing to happen to Rhir! All that I have put her through; my petty moaning and arguments with her. All that she has had to cope with, and now this.

Her tears still flowed, and even if she did not know it she was lying to herself. She still hated Dryea and everything she stood for; and she did not regret the arguments they had. For they were the opener to her. Even if she would not admit it. Even if she cried and cried in pity for her sister, and no matter how much she told herself those things deep inside she was glad Rhir had died. It is a horrific thing to think and that is why Alethea tried to subdue it, but in the back of her mind as she sat on the stair she could not help thinking: Serves her right!

[ September 06, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

Ealasaide

09-05-2003, 07:46 PM

Once Tessa had left the room to go to her sister and a re-invigorating sleep, Averyll, Vieana, and Elen found themselves alone in Tessa’s room. They shared a stunned silence, each of them thinking how futile and silly their little counter-campaign of rumors had been in the face of what was truly afoot. It was the political equivalent of tossing a glass of water on a forest fire. Corsairs! Of course.

Averyll shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Reading her thoughts, Vieana reached over and stroked Averyll’s chestnut hair.

“We can’t stop fighting now,” she said softly. “We have to help Finduilas even more now than ever.”

Averyll nodded. “We must support Finduilas and the steward at all costs. But how?” She raised her head and looked from Elen to Vieana.

Vieana shook her head, equally at a loss for ideas.

“But, Averyll,” said Elen suddenly, her eyes lighting up with hope. “What was it you said at the ball? Something about the Morthaniawens. Did you remember what it was? That could be of great help!”

Her face fell again as Averyll slowly shook her head. “No,” Averyll said softly. “It occurred to me as I was getting ready for bed that I was mistaken. The name was something that sounded like Morthaniawen, but it was another name entirely. Worthanifen, or something like that. He was a rather foppish tailor to whom my husband owed a good deal of money. Unfortunately, he can’t be of any help to us. At least not unless the Corsairs need an over-priced suit of clothes.”

The three ladies once again fell into silence. Finally, Averyll rose and, smoothing the skirt of her dressing gown with her palms, smiled at the other two.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing else we can do tonight,” she said. “I vote that we follow Tessa’s lead and go back to our beds. We’ll be able to think so much more clearly with a little sleep to our bodies.”

“So true!” sighed Vieana. “We can all sleep on the problem and put our heads together again at breakfast.”

“I think so, too,” agreed Elen.

"Perhaps we could send a message to Eckthelion in the morning, placing ourselves at his disposal," suggested Averyll. "At the very least, we should explain what we know, what we suspect, and even what we have done, folly as it turned out to be. He may think us silly and empty-headed, but even he must realize that we are not entirely without our usefulness."

Vieana and Elen each nodded, and Elen stifled a yawn. "Perhaps you're right," Elen said quietly. "But let's think about it in the morning, okay? I'm so tired that at the moment I'm afraid I have no usefulness left at all!"

Averyll and Vieana both laughed, but, then Vieana yawned, followed immediately by a monstrously unladylike yawn from Averyll. With that, the three of them decided that it was indeed time to go back to bed and, for Averyll at least, a very fitful sleep.

[ September 09, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

Elora

09-05-2003, 08:11 PM

Ruiel sat quietly in the dawn grey that sat over Minas Tirith. The Steward's Citadel rose like a white spike, reaching into the sky and stained a delicate pink by the rising sun. Dawn was calm, undisturbed and unhurried. It was a stark contrast to the women and household of the Morthaniawen's.

The masquerade had been one of the most ignominious events Ruiel had ever attended in her long career as a spy. At first it started well enough. Some of the young fools of Dol Amroth were confused and had started to doubt whether Morthaniawen hailed from Dol Amroth. That presented no overt difficulty for Ruiel.

In fact, Ruiel had settled in Dol Amroth many years ago, just after her husband had met his demise, all in readiness for moving close to Minas Tirith. A mere check of court annals of the Prince of Dol Amroth would show that Morthaniawen rose to prominence. It was on that strength that their relocation to Minas Tirith was achieved.

Long years cozening inept Gondorian Lords and Ladies were under Ruiel's belt. Let the young ladies wonder. Should they ask, their ignorance would only further cast doubt on their own claims of legitimacy. At any rate, by the time they checked the annals at Dol Amroth, Ruiel would be done here in Minas Tirith and it would be a moot point. Who would listen to what they had to say at that time even had the public records not reflected what they had.

Ruiel was permitted a brief sense of superior satisfaction that her long, steady progress through Gondor's nobility had produced that fruit. It was not all for nothing after all, those dull, stupefying engagements spent with witless soft-bellied far from noble men and women. However, her sense of achievement was resoundingly crushed by the scene in the garden between Dryea and Rhir.

Ruiel had come close to all her work being torn down. She had come close to killing Rhir there... she did not know exactly what she would have done to Dryea. The depth of her daughter’s wanton, reckless betrayal had been breathtaking and for a moment, a slim moment, Ruiel had lost all restraint. Such a scene would only have brought further ruin. It was a mercy that she had been able to turn away from both daughter and Rhir before she did anything that would be too scandalous to recover from.

As if that was not enough though, word was spreading of a public quarrel between Dryea and Alethea. The carriage ride back to their manor that night had been frosty. Both daughters had been remote, sullen and out of sorts. Ruiel herself had been beside herself with rage. It had been an effort to walk into the manor without word to either Dryea or Alethea.

Ruiel had left both daughters to their own devices, unable at that moment to look at either one of them. Their behaviour, spitting and quarrelling, was reprehensible. Dryea's behaviour was worse. Rannë had wisely left her mistress to her thoughts. She had seen Ruiel in such a state before. A husband had died of it.

The night passed all too quickly for Ruiel. The damage of the quarrel she could only guess at, for she did not know what had been said nor who had heard it. All she could do was assume the worst, and the worst did not bear thinking of. Her mind raced as she sat in her chair, chin on one hand and other hand stroking the ornate gold hilt of her dagger.

It was in the earliest of hours that commotion flared once again within the Morthaniawen. Ruiel heard a soft tap at her door. Only one would dare to knock.

"Come, Rannë," she said flatly, not turning from her contemplation of the window and fireplace as Rannë entered.

"Malady, I have news... terrible news," Rannë said in a voice that carried the unrest of her tidings. Ruiel turned her head slightly, presenting the regal profile of her face.

"Yes," she asked, wondering what news could be so terrible. Were her expectations of the worst now to be borne out in fact?

"Rhir is dead," Rannë whispered brokenly. It took Ruiel by surprise and she was silent. Out of the depths of disaster could good tidings come. An elegant brow rose gracefully as she considered the boon in Rannë's tidings. Her lips curved slowly into a smile.

"My Lady?" Rannë's confusion was evident in her question. Ruiel stood, unfolding from her chair.

"Fetch my robe," she commanded as she shook her hair back. It was still in its thick braid of rich, old russet and hung heavily down her back. Rannë, bewildered, returned with the heavily embroidered robe and held the indigo velvet out for Ruiel to don. She did so, smoothing out the folds of the skirt as the last buttons were fastened.

"Thank you Rannë. We have much work to do today. Be sure that you are at my ready when word comes. Time is of the essence." Ruiel spoke crisply, re-energised now. Behind her, Rannë bobbed a curtsy, horrified and frightened at Ruiel's inhuman manner.

"M'Lady," she said mechanically as Ruiel swept from her chambers. The Lady Morthaniawen, Head of her House and the most experienced and senior spy of Umbar, glided towards her daughters' chambers serenely with her hands gracefully clasped before her. She arrived at Dryea's chamber to find Rheaite standing helpless by Dryea's bed.

Tears marked the maid's face and Dryea lay motionless in bed, facing the other wall.

"You know then" Ruiel said succinctly. Rheaite lowered her head, shoulders shaking.

"Yes, mother, I know," Dryea hissed from the bed. Such depth of hatred and loss was in her voice. Ruiel noted it dispassionately.

"Indeed you do. You know what it is to serve something higher than your heart's call. You know what has to be done and you know now that you have the strength to see it done. You know."

Dryea was silent. Ruiel stood there a moment longer, carried back to the time following her husband's death. Dryea would move past this. She had already done so in killing him. There was no doubt in Ruiel's mind about how Rhir had died. She knew her daughter.

"Umbar will not forget your service, daughter," Ruiel said. Dryea remained silent, shaking beneath the covers. There was nothing more to say. Words meant little, and well Ruiel knew it. She herself was pleased Rhir was dead. She motioned for Rheaite to follow her as she left her daughter's chambers. The maid trailed as Ruiel stepped out the door.

"See that she is dressed and has eaten. She must be able to rise if the day calls for it. We cannot falter now."

Rheaite could only mutely nod; tear stained face stunned, as she heard her instructions. That done, Ruiel nodded, turned and made her path to Alethea's chambers. There she found Meirelle in attendance. An air of shock hung over the pair, which Ruiel noted along with the fact that her daughters had recruited close assistance from the staff. She'd have to remember to deal with both Rheaite and Meirelle if certain eventualities came to pass.

Ruiel swept into Alethea's rooms, Meirelle dropping a curtsy and Alethea spinning about, face glistening with tears and eyes bright with something else. Guilt perhaps, Ruiel wondered at her daughter.

"I see you too have heard of the night's events," Ruiel said. Alethea nodded, bottom lip trembling with tears withheld as she beheld her mother's smooth countenance. Ruiel appeared undisturbed. Indeed, she seemed vibrant and she was. There was much to do to redeem matters disrupted by the Masque. Already one hurdle had fallen neatly into death. However, Alethea was forced to wonder who had brought that hurdle to topple... Dryea or her mother?

"I expect you to be ready to aid me today. After the debacle of the evening, we have much to do. Report to me after breakfast in my office. There is the matter of your disagreement with your sister to discuss."

Alethea's face blanched of any little colour that remained and her eyes slid a little. Ruiel noted it in an instant and took a step forward.

"Mark me well daughter, you will report to me immediately after breakfast at which point you will fully disclose what was said last night. Think not to mislead me, Alethea. Things shall not go so well with you.

Better I learn the truth from you than some witless gossip of Minas Tirith. Am I understood?"

Alethea nodded slowly as Ruiel sent her a glare rich with maternal disapproval. Alethea understood all too well. Her mother could have murdered Rhir and was threatening her. Others knew too much and there was Adrama. Perhaps there was a way out of this nightmare. Oh yes, Alethea understood all too well.

Ruiel spun on one heel and departed. She walked into her office to find Rannë tidying.

"I will take my breakfast here, Rannë," Ruiel announced. Rannë turned to look at her mistress. Yes, she was pleased at Rhir's death. Was there any compassion left in her? Had Umbar taken even that? Rannë curtsied deeply and left for the kitchens.

Dawn may have been untroubled by the cares of Mortal Men, but House Morthaniawen was not so fortunately distant from such woes this day.

Child of the 7th Age

09-06-2003, 11:30 AM

Eckthelion's breakfast tray lay untouched on the small table where the guard had placed it earlier that morning. The Steward had been at his desk for only an hour but already his day was clouded with confusion. A hundred competing problems vied in his mind, each demanding an immediate answer if the security of Gondor was to be safeguarded and maintained.

Despite his earlier assurance to Diorwyn that nothing she could say would shock him, he found himself wondering just how accurate that statement was. The events of last night's party had shaken him to the core. Diorwyn's foreboding words suggested that something sinister was afoot, some danger to his beloved city that he had totally failed to detect and forestall. He cursed himself for having been so preoccupied with managing the defense of the frontiers and the details of Denethor's wedding that he had totally neglected to search for the vipers within his own court.

And now, this morning, came the equally disturbing news of the death of Rhircyn Isindil, the young man he'd seen twirling about the dancefloor very alive and vibrant in the company of one of the younger court women. A stubborn bell sounded in Eckthelion's head that in some form or fashion these events were all connected. But exactly how that could be or who was manipulating the strings, the Steward had no idea.

Eckthelion's reflections were abruptly interrupted by the sentry standing guard who knocked and came inside with an announcement.

"Sir, there's a gentleman here to see you. He says he's just arrived back in Minas Tirith after many months away."

Eckthelion shook his head, "I've no time for visitors today, not unless it's that young girl I promised my daughter I'd speak to.

The door in back of the guard suddenly pushed opened a few inches as a tall figure clad in grey robes slipped his head inside and peered around the room. The old man stepped in, straightened up to his full height, and chuckled broadly, "What kind of welcome is this? No time for visitors? But at least time for a friend, I hope. But then you knew I was coming. Thorongil sent the dispatch through several days ago."

Eckthelion stared, his face full of pleasant surprise, and immediately darted forward to greet his tall guest, "Gandalf, I've heard nothing about your arrival, but I am pleased beyond all measure. We've strange doings at court, things that suggest the enemy has dared to put his foot inside my beloved city, and I could surely use your judgment, to say nothing of the fact that I wish to hear everything as to how Thorongil and his men have fared."

For the next hour, the two men exchanged confidences. After listening to Gandalf's news about the troops, the Steward outlined all the happenings from last night's party and his fears that worse was yet to come. At the end, he leaned back in his chair and turned towards Gandalf, "I have always valued your counsel. Can you give me no words of advice? No hints as to how we may best proceed to deal with this mysterious viper?"

"Words of advice? How can I give you words of advice when you have failed to listen to the words that come from those who love you the most? Why do you believe what Diorwyn says yet immediately suggest that your own daughter was merely vying for attention? Do you have so little faith in your own family?"

Gandalf scowled and shook his head staring down at Eckthelion. The Steward took in the old man's words and then averted his face, refusing to look Gandalf directly in the eyes. Then he walked over to the window and started idly outside. When Eckthelion spoke again, it was with a tone both thoughtful and humbled, "Perhaps, you're right. I'm hard on Siriel. It's always been that way. She's a stubborn one, and I thought this was just another ploy to win my approval."

"I do not think so, Steward," Gandalf replied in a soft voice. "I have seen the girl. She loves you greatly and would not see harm come to her family or her people."

"Even aside from that, there is the matter of this dispatch that was sent to you announcing my arrival. You should have gotten that three days ago. That is disturbing."

Eckthelion walked over to a side shelf and began rummaging through a pile of dispatches that had just come in this morning. Then he pulled something out of the pile and waved the packet in Gandalf's face, "Three days ago, you say? Think again, here it is just this morning...."

The men's eyes met with the unspoken realization that someone within Eckthelion's entourage was indeed tampering with the deliveries. Yet a close scrutiny of the document failed to turned up anything unusual. It seemed to be sealed and closed in the customary way.

"I must go now," Gandalf indicated. "I will be in Minas Tirith for at least a week. You may reach me at the usual place. But what will you do about this?" Gandalf queried, pointing towards the late dispatch.

"I will do what I should have done last night when my daughter first brought this news to me. I'll begin a quiet investigation to try and find out what's gone wrong, enlisting others I can trust."

Gandalf nodded his agreement and then left the room. It was only a moment or two later when there was another knock on the door, this one small and timid. Eckthelion looked up and smiled, sensing it was the friend of Tiriel's whom she'd mentioned to him last night. This at least should be an easy problem to deal with, he reassued himself.

Lyra Greenleaf

09-07-2003, 06:09 PM

Emilia stared at the door for nearly five minutes before she got up the courage to knock. This wasn't like her- such timidity showed weakness that she hadn't known she contained. But then she had never really spoken to the Steward before. She had been introduced by her father, presented as all high born young women were. He had smiled and asked a few questions, and she had smiled and answered quietly. This meeting might not be based on equality of place, but her news gave her a power that for this one moment in time nearly equalled his.

It was what she had always dreamed of, though she had imagined a more orthodox way of getting it- important marriage. Yet despite this, she was struck with syptoms of nerves and an uncomfortable feeling. She did not fool herself that it was compassion for her former friend, although the news of Rhir's death had jolted her. Dryea deserved no sympathy after what she had done. She had almost ruined any chance of Emilia gaining her aspirations.

The sudden reappearance of outrage gave Emilia the momentum she needed to make the all important contact with the door. The noise echoed painfully in her head. She wondered if everyone else heard it as loudly as she had.

"Come in" came the command from inside, and Emilia did as she was bidden. Once inside the room, and standing in front of the Steward, all Emilia's tremblings came back to her and her thoughts crystallised into one: This was the most important moment of her life.

"Yes? I understand you wish to talk to me?" Ecthelion asked gently, and Emilia saw that he expected- who knew what? Something of far less import than what it was. Patronage, perhaps, for a child. Maybe his attendance at a party. Desperately Emilia wondered how to start what she wanted to say.

"My Lord" she said, and curtseyed, buying time.
"Yes?" The Steward repeated.
"My Lord, I have to tell you that Gondor is in very grave danger" Emilia blurted out, then cursed herself. Quickly she raced on with the story, trying to prove that she could back up her flimsy opening statement with fact.

At the end of her tale then Steward gazed at the wall, his face set in concentration. Emilia waited impatiently for him to speak.
"So there are spies, and they are the Morthaniawens" he finally mused, as though to himself. "That explains..." He trailed of, obviously remembering anomolous details, knowledge that the Corsairs should not have got access to- but even in his abstracted state knowing not to speak of secrets before Emilia.

Finally he regarded her gravely.
"This is a strong allegation" he began. "I believe you, although there is no proof. For all I know for sure you could be the agent of Umbar, directing suspicion on the innocent. But I believe you. Your father is a good man- perhaps more to the point your mother is a good woman. A strong woman," he added with a smile. "Your family has lived in Gondor for generations, while the Morthaniawens are newcomers. This does not constitute proof, but it shows likelihood. Furthermore there is a ring of truth about you, and about what you say."

His gaze became even sterner.
"But this is a delicate situation. We have nothing fixed against the Morthaniawens and a case of your word against theirs would be damaging. They might manage to make it look as though you are mistaken. Anyway, getting them to leave is not enough. We need to disrupt the whole of the Corsairs' infrastructure in Gondor, not just remove it's figurehead. I am telling you this for one reason: You must not say anything to anyone of this. Do not write to your parents, do not let it slip to your friends. You do not seem empty headed enough to go running to the Morthaniawens themselves, accusing them. Whatever you do, do not confide it to your maid. I want you to understand that I am extremely grateful for this information, and I'm sure it will be vital, but that does not give you lisence to do as you like. If you keep quiet I'm sure Gondor will thank you for generations."

Emilia curtseyed again, lowering her head.
"Yes my lord" she answered, then turned and left. She now faced a dilemma. It made sense to obey the Steward's instructions, and yet how could she not tell such a piece of gossip? She sighed deeply. It was a thorny problem indeed. It was so hard to serve one's realm.

Child of the 7th Age

09-08-2003, 02:36 PM

Eckthelion watched as Emilia walked purposefully down the corridor and vanished from sight. Now, he had his likely culprit and could start keeping a close eye on what Lady Rueil and her daughters were doing as well as trying to ferret out the network of contacts and helpers that had enabled them to maintain their cover and ferret out information.

He could certainly think of a reason to have the family ejected from Minas Tirith and the court itself, but that would be truly foolish. Tipping his hand to the spies from Umbar in any form or fashion would only give them advance warning, a chance to shield all their other contacts. If truth be told, he was even more interested in uncovering that network of contacts than in eliminating the folk at the head of the chain. The Corsairs could always chose to send out another agent, but they would be powerless to function or accomplish anything if the underlying structure of support had been destroyed.

It was with this thought in mind that he sat down at his desk and ordered his affairs for the morning. First, there was a note to several of his most trusted men to keep a close eye on the family itself, trailing them about wherever they went. That was easy enough to accomplish. It was the second goal that was more challenging...ferretting out the agents who were intercepting the dispatches and using that link to uncover the entire network of corruption and intrigue.

He sat and thought for several minutes, and then took out a sheaf of paper from his desk, scrawling out a note:

Diorwyn,

You lately did me a service for which I am much obliged. Additional problems have come to my attention along the same lines that we discussed last night.

I have great need of someone to gather information among the members of my immediate entourage, focusing on those soldiers who are part of my guard and occupy the nearby garrison. It is clear that one or more of these agents are intercepting dispatches, reading them, and then sending them on so that no hint of this tampering can be readily detected.

I have already alerted my most trusted men to assist me in the hunt for these individuals. But I fear that whoever is doing this will be extremely careful not to reveal themselves to another man. I am also thinking they may be less alert and careful in regards to a woman, whom they would never suspect.

I would be most grateful if you could suggest the names of several individuals in whom you have complete trust who could help to gather this information. Discreetly feel them out to see if they have an interest in helping Gondor in this manner.

You may visit me personally in my office or send for my private courier who will relay your note back to me. If you feel this is too dangerous for yourself or those whom you know, I will certainly understand. But the safety of Gondor, and indeed of all the free peoples, may be at stake so I take the liberty of making this request to you.

Respectfully,

Eckthelion, Steward of Gondor

"Guard, I need you. This message must be delivered this morning. Track down the woman wherever she may be. Speed is of the essence. And, under no circumstances, are you to let this note fall into other hands."

[ September 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

alaklondewen

09-08-2003, 08:22 PM

Pelien rose before the world was lit by the sun after tossing and turning without sleep all night. The carriage ride from the palace the previous evening had been solemn. Sador had remained quiet apparently not wanting to argue in front of Adrama, and Pelien refused to beg for the man’s attention. She had too much pride for a degrading action like that. When they reached their apartments, Sador had gone immediately inside and went to bed, while Pelien sat for quite some time in the parlor mulling the evening’s events over in her mind.

The air was chilly in the corridor from the lack of the morning sun, and Pelien pulled her navy robe tighter as she silently roamed the home. The servants were already stirring and poor Rummel’s face revealed her surprise when she saw her mistress up so early.

“Good morning, Madame Pelien.” The girl hurriedly curtseyed and pulled her hair back out of her face. Rummel had apparently not been awake for very long and her appearance was less than ideal.

“Good morning.” Pelien’s voice was unmoved as she looked over the servant with a disapproving expression.

“What would you like for breakfast, Madame? I will get it started.” Rummel tied a white apron tightly around her waist and smoothed out the wrinkles.

“No, I’m not hungry. Go about your regular duties…I want to be left alone.” With that Pelien dismissed the relieved servant girl and continued on her way down the corridor, down the stairs, and into the parlor where her favorite chair waited.

The older woman contemplated the ramifications of her evening’s ‘performance’. She had worked so hard all of these years to keep her name and her family’s name respectable, and she was more than a little concerned about what the Steward’s family would think of her. The look on Denethor’s face was burned in her memory…he was disgusted with her. That would never do. Pelien would have to work hard to repair the damage, especially if the Steward’s son would ever rid himself of the pretty little princess, Adrama needed to be the replacement. Pelien knew in her heart Denethor was not going to disregard his new bride, but she just couldn’t admit defeat…even to herself.

Her lovely Adrama…Pelien loved her daughter dearly and she was unsure of what her reaction would be when she told her of the conversation she’d had with Denethor and Finduilas. Adrama had been particularly beautiful at the ball, and Pelien pictured her daughter floating across the floor in Addruran’s arms. She’d talk to her daughter about that boy and feel out what Adrama’s true feelings were. Adrama must not fall for his charms. Surely, Pelien thought. My daughter is smarter than that.

The sun slowly rose and its rays filtered in through the windows lighting the dark parlor. Sador could be heard moving around readying himself for the day’s duties, and soon he had descended the stairs and entered the kitchen where his usual breakfast waited. Pelien slipped up the stairs, not wanting any confrontation this morning, and back into her bedroom. There, she disrobed and drew a hot bath. Taking her time, she slowly washed herself wanting to take long enough that Sador would be gone when she was ready for breakfast. After several minutes, she heard the door close firmly and knew her husband had left for work.

Rummel came shortly afterwards to help Pelien dress. The older woman chose a dull gray dress with a high waist and long sleeves. It fit her mood nicely.

“Rummel, go down to the kitchen, prepare two vegetable omelets, and tell my daughter she is to meet me in the dining room in one half hour.” The servant nodded and curtseyed once more before she left the bedroom.

Pelien sauntered out to the balcony and took a deep breath stimulating her senses with the fresh morning air. She and Adrama would have much to talk about this morning, and she prayed all would go as planned. Pelien’s eyes wandered up to the white peaks of the citadel. They looked majestic in the sun’s light. Shaking her head slowly with shame, the older woman turned from the balcony’s rail and walked back indoors. Stopping once to gaze upon her reflection, Pelien straightened her back and lifted her chin showing the dignity and pride she carried as a shield, and then, she exited her bedroom and descended to the dining room.

The breakfast table was set with two place mats, cloth napkins, two empty rose tea cups, and a small vase with freshly cut flowers in the center of the table. It set the mood Pelien hoped to have… uplifting, yet intimate.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Madame?” Rummel’s voice broke through Pelien’s thoughts as the young girl pulled one of the high backed chairs away from the table for Pelien to sit.

“No. I want something stronger this morning…I’ll have a cup of coffee.” Pelien took the seat and scooted up to the table.

“I’ll take the cup of tea, Rummel…thank you.” Pelien’s head turned at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Adrama was standing in the doorway with a freshly scrubbed appearance. Her skin glowed like a sun-kissed peach, and Pelien smiled approvingly. “Good morning, Mother.” Adrama said lightly and seated herself across from Pelien. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes…I thought we might discuss the evening’s events. Did you enjoy yourself?” As she spoke, Pelien properly unfolded her napkin and placed it across her lap.

“I had a lovely time…” Adrama paused to thank Rummel for the hot tea and then continued, “All the costumes were wonderful.”

“You enjoyed dancing with Addruran?” Pelien watched her daughter’s eyes widen a moment, but before Adrama could reply, Pelien went on. “You compliment one another well.” Pelien raised her coffee to her mouth while her eyes watched her daughter’s reaction.

[ September 09, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Nurumaiel

09-08-2003, 08:58 PM

Adrama smoothed down the skirt of the simple green dress she was wearing as she looked at her mother with no little concern. The latter did not look well. She was a strange pale color, and her voice didn't sound quite as strong as it usually did. "Are you feeling well, Mother?" Adram asked. "You look rather ill."

"I feel well," Pelien replied. "I have no illness that ails me, but I am burdened with thought." Adrama's eyebrows raised slightly. "I'll tell you about it later, dear," Pelien said in a firm voice, letting her daughter know that direction of conversation was over for the present. "But onto lighter matters... You and Addruran are quite a handsome couple. Have you ever considered marrying him."

Lifting up her tea cup, Adrama spoke in a cool voice, "No, I really haven't, Mother. You see, I don't love him." She sipped her tea and her mother did likewise, but Adrama noted that the drink in her mother's cup was coffee, and concern began building in her again.

"But surely you realize it is hopeless for you to marry Denethor now?"

"Hopeless? Oh, Mother." Adrama hesitated between putting her cup back down again and taking another drink. Now she wished she had taken coffee, as well. Was her mother becoming frightened by the idea of carrying on trying to bring Denethor away from Finduilas? Perhaps that was why she was so nervous. Adrama felt anger building up inside of her. Well, if she were to be left alone in her task of winning Denethor back somehow, then so be it. She spoke, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. "Mother, I love Denethor and I have no thoughts of marrying Addruran."

"But the two of you look so perfect for each other..."

"Mother!" Adrama cried, setting her cup down so forcefully on the table that it was a miracle it didn't break, though most of it splashed out over the side. Pelien called for Rummel, but when the girl arrived Adrama stopped her from cleaning the tea. "Please, Rummel, I'll take care of that. It's my own fault. But could you just refill my cup? And I think I might need something stronger. Coffee for me, too?"

"Yes, miss," Rummel said, taking the cup.

Adrama took up her napkin and began mopping up the tea with it. Her mother did nothing but sit in her chair, unmoving, watching her daughter. Rummel returned with the coffee and Adrama thanked her, taking the cup and giving the girl the tea-stained napkin to take away. Then she sighed and met her mother's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said. "I shouldn't have shouted so. But I will not marry Addruran, and if the one who can make me will be so wonderful that words cannot describe how wonderful. Now, Mother, if you don't mind me speaking to you in a rather rude way, the subject is closed."

Pelien did not protest, and Adrama, satisfied, turned her eyes towards the window, not noticing the faint look of triumph that passed over her mother's face. Little did the girl know that her mother had been putting on an act, knowing that Adrama would rebel against her 'wishes.'

Adrama thought of many things as she looked out the window, but her main thoughts were towards her mother's rather ill appearance. Was the giving up of Denethor the reason for her pale face? But why would that cause her to look that way. Her mother had never been one to be frightened of telling bad news to anyone. So was it really...? Adrama hesitated and glanced at her mother. There was but one way to find out, and that was to simply ask.

"Mother..."

"Yes, Adrama?" Pelien was looking into her coffee cup, but when her daughter spoke she looked up and met the dark eyes that looked thoughtfully into her own. Adrama noticed that her mother hadn't taken very much of her coffee yet, and that also bothered her. Surely she would have drained the cup already if she were feeling so bad.

"Mother, I'm going to ask you a rather odd question, and I want a truthful answer," Adrama said firmly, ignoring her mother's surprised look. "Have you given up making Denethor forget Finduilas, or is there another cause for your pale face and wearied eyes? And if there is another reason, I beg you to tell me now." There was a silence, and Pelien didn't answer. "I'm your daughter, and I feel that I have some right to be told things that are happening in this family," Adrama said, her face flushing. "Something terrible has happened, and I ask you to tell me what it is. If you will not tell me, I will demand it. Have you given up the fight?"

"No, of course not," Pelien said sharply. "I want you to marry Denethor more than I ever did, and I will not given up so easily."

"Then why do you say it is hopeless, and why do you try to convince me to marry Addruran?" Adrama felt like bursting into tears. She was so confused, so frustrated. She asked questions, but she did not get answers, and everything remained dark and mysterious to her. Everyone seemed to be gathered in their own little corners, talking and plotting together, while she stood alone in the center, her cries for help falling on deaf ears.

"I simply wish to know if you want to marry him, Adrama. I do think you look well together." Pelien's voice was so sweet, so kind, so fake. Adrama wanted to scream in frustration. What was being hidden from her? Why did her mother try to avoid answering the questions that really mattered. Why did she say words that fell upon her daughter without meaning, as though she had other purposes behind her excuses?

"Mother, tell me now!" she cried, her eyes beginning to dim with tears of vexation. "What has happened? Tell me, I beg you. I will not turn against you, if you are to blame for it. And if you are not to blame, then cease hiding the answers and tell me plainly." With trembling fingers, Adrama picked up her cup and consumed some of the coffee, hoping it would strengthen her. Passing a hand across her eyes to wipe the tears away, she stood up and went to the window, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. Oh, help me, she screamed in her thoughts. Life is becoming too hard. I need help.

Staring dully at her daughter's back, Pelien began to speak.

[ September 10, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Orofaniel

09-09-2003, 09:30 AM

Save for Betuli

Novnarwen

09-09-2003, 09:43 AM

Sador didn't forget his wife's sudden outburst, and he felt less comfortable spending some of his evening at the ball with Denethor. Trying to seem as nothing had happened, he jumped into conversations concerning politics, even though he wasn't in the mood for such.

As the evening wore of, he didn't get a single glimpse of his wife, Pelien. Sador wanted to talk to her, but he didn't get the chance.

__________________________________________________ ___________________

Sador undressed and got to bed quickly after the couple arrived their apartment. He felt a bit ashamed and empty, as if someone had sucked life out of him, and now all was a blur.
He decided not to bring up a coversation regarding tonight's events. It just wasn't the right time to sit down, having a long talk. It was far to late, and besides, he really needed to sort things out. He clearly understood his wife's intention. Or well, did he? Perhaps it was all about Adrama, and her wanting to get married to the coming Steward. How could he of all, be so naive. He was her father! But was Adrama's love for Denethor reason enough for Peleien to have an outburst at Finduilas. And was it even true, what Pelien had accused her for?

[ September 13, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Estelyn Telcontar

09-10-2003, 04:20 PM

I am not homesick, Diorwyn told herself firmly, realizing as she did so that it was only half true. Yes, her mind and hands had been far too busy to allow her much time for pining, and the women with whom she had spent the past weeks had become friends. However, she was increasingly aware of the loneliness that she felt sitting among strangers at meals or alone in her bed at night. She was glad that her time in the White City was coming to an end soon and looked forward to the welcoming embraces of her husband and children.

While her fingers embroidered silver stars around the neckline of the deep blue cloak she was finishing, her thoughts came back to the princess. Would she experience homesickness in her new home? Would she find genuine friends among the women of Minas Tirith? Diorwyn fervently hoped that the love of her husband-to-be and their children would warm Finduilas within as this cloak would shield her outwardly from the cold and the winds of Gondor.

She secured the final stitches and shook out the folds of the soft, sturdy material. It had the colour of a deep summer night and would look queenly indeed on its wearer. Would her work last long enough to warm a daughter of Finduilas some day, she wondered. A sharp knock on the door brought her back to the present reality, and she arose quickly to answer. She was startled and somewhat alarmed to see a guard who bowed and handed her a missive.

Diorwyn read the message with furrowed brow, then asked the guard to wait while she answered. Hurriedly, she sat down at her table, turning the letter over to write a reply on the back.

Sir,

I am honoured to be the recipient of your trust. I agree that women may be able to find out information where men are otherwise on their guard. I will speak to some of our young women and ask them to contact you directly and discreetly.

The love that I and indeed all of her ladies bear for the princess Finduilas would be enough to insure our interest in helping you to ward off any danger to your realm. More than that, if Minas Tirith falls, what shall happen to Dol Amroth? There is greater danger in inaction than in any help we can give. I fervently hope that all traitors will be found out and stopped before they can harm Gondor.

With respectful greetings,
Diorwyn

As soon as she had given the message to the guard, she turned her steps to the quarters of the young women of Dol Amroth; she fervently hoped that the trust she placed in their willingness to help would not be disappointed.

[ September 11, 2003: Message edited by: Estelyn Telcontar ]

maikafanawen

09-10-2003, 05:46 PM

Dryea rose and dressed that morning with a drone aire about her. The people of the sixth and seventh circles would undoubtedly hear of the young nobleman's sudden and tragic death and would mourn alongside Dryea. "To think," they all would say, "They had only just been engaged."

The Lady Morthaniawen chose black. Her mother wouldn't have her looking so plain, but she refused to wear any color. Dryea argued that people would talk if she did but inside she knew she could not bring herself to don the merry hues of gold and the sultry shades of red like she'd used to. She even locked her jewelry box, enclosing the dear necklaces, and bangles within. The ring she kept on.

No one dared to speak to her or even look her direction the rest of the morning. She sat in the old room at the end of the West corridor all morning, gazing outside into the shadowed yard. Just watching. And wishing that somehow this was all a nightmare. A terrible, wicked, foul nightmare and any moment she'd awake to Rheaite drawing the drapes and admonishing her for sleeping in so.

It was not to be so and she stayed sitting like she was for a long time, wrapped in an old grey throw to keep out the chill that had settled permanently in her bones. She didn't have breakfast, and had ignored the tea Rheaite had set on the table nearby. Murder was an evil sport, she had decided, and if she had known its effect, she would have never made the poison.

Oh what madness had taken her mind that evening! What insanity had possessed her and caused her to destroy the flame of hope that she might have a life of her own away from the tediousness of all this plotting? She shook her head. What's done is done, and nothing shall be undone.

Dropping her throw, Dryea stood and left the room, making her way to her mother's study. She descended the stairs at a slow and deliberate pace making a hollow thumping noise every time her bare feet hit the stone steps. She reached the door and knocked.

"Come in," said Ruiel in her satirical voice. Dryea entered, an indifferent expression upon her face as her mind conformed to the tasks before her.

"What is there for us to do today Mother? What benefit might I be to the realm I serve?" She did a mock bow and grinned when her mother chuckled.

"Come to my arms daughter, for you are truly of Morthaniawen blood." They embraced. Their bond was renewed and Ruiel's daughter became her exact image of wickedness in mind—and soul.

alaklondewen

09-10-2003, 09:36 PM

Pelien stared at her daughter’s back anticipating the reaction she would receive. Would Adrama scream at her mother and storm out of room, or would she break down spilling the tears that were already in her eyes? Pelien was unsure, but she knew that she could not stall any longer.

“Last night…” Pelien paused trying to form her thoughts into words. “Last night I spoke with Denethor and Finduilas.” Adrama turned slowly to face her mother with an expression rich with anxiety. “I let the Princess know I knew about her…ancestral lines. I couldn’t listen to the talk anymore and think of what she was getting away with. I expected Denethor to be disgusted with her once he knew the truth, and it wouldn’t be long until he tossed her out where she belongs.”

“And what exactly did happen, Mother?” Adrama’s eyes widened a bit as she pulled her breakfast chair out and dropped into it, but she was already calmer than Pelien had expected. Maybe she was just in shock.

Pelien solemnly told Adrama every detail of the exchange with Denethor. She did, however, leave out the personal words from Finduilas about Pelien’s resemblance to her own mother. The feelings that conversation invoked still needed to be kept close. When she’d finished her confession, Pelien took a deep breath and searched her daughter’s face for some sign of her inner thoughts. However, Adrama sat for a long moment looking at her intertwined fingers on the table without saying a word.

[ September 13, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Nurumaiel

09-10-2003, 09:56 PM

There was a long silence, in which no noise disturbed the picture that anyone who had entered the room would have seen. Adrama's face was drained of all color, and she sat stiff and erect, staring off into nothing, her eyes filled with emptiness, and no emotion on her face. Pelien was also silent, and she looked nervous. Perhaps she was afraid her daughter had despaired and would do something terrible now that she had nothing to live for. Or perhaps she thought her daughter would fight back with more strength than ever, even abducting Finduilas. The idea was absurd, Pelien realized at once, but what was Adrama thinking? Her face and her eyes showed absolutely nothing.

Minutes passed. At last a deep sigh escaped from Adrama's lips, and she leaned back, her hands resting casually on the arms of the chair, looking her mother evenly in the eye. There was no frustration, no sorrow, no anger in her any longer. She suddenly seemed very weary, and much older than her twenty-six years. And she was so calm...... Well, no doubt she'd go to her room later and have a good cry when the emotions really came to her.She did not speak for awhile, but Pelien felt relief, for her daughter's attitude did not signify that she was going to do something rash.

"Well....." Adrama murmured, and then fell silent again. This time, however, only a few seconds passed before she spoke again. She said just a few words, with such simplicity and tiredness that she could have convinced most anyone of the truth in her words. "It's over, then."

Pelien opened her mouth to speak against that, but before she could Adrama sat up abruptly and slammed her hand down into the table. Suddenly her feelings were back, all her emotions. "No, Mother!" she cried. "It's over, and nothing can be said to the contrary. Does this not clearly say that Denethor loves Finduilas above anything, and he will never turn from her? It's hopeless. I love him still, but I give up the fight now. It is no longer any of my business. I will not interfer in their love for each other." Her anger slowly seeped away, and then she appeared quite calm.

"Adrama, please do not give up hope. You believe that they love each other? Perhaps, just perhaps it is an illusion, and soon they will realize they do not love each other."

The young woman smiled sadly and shook her head. "Mother, they love each other, else Denethor would have given in easily to the rumors, delighted with the opportunity of getting rid the of the girl he thought he loved. No, even if these ghastly rumors about her were true, I believe Denethor would still love her." She stood up and leaned against the wall by the window, letting a breeze blow over her pale face. "I'm sorry it didn't work, Mother. I know how much you love me. How you tried to bring the two of us together, and all for nothing. But if you truely love me, Mother, then you, like I, will give it up. Further pursuit of the matter will only bring disgrace upon our family. Do you remember when I did not care of our family's reputation? I do now, but still not as much as you would like. I would fight for Denethor and ruin our reputation, but I give up not only because it is hopeless, but because I love you. Can't you return what I do for you?"

Pelien was completely silent, but then she stood and placed her arms around her daughter, hugging her closely. "I love you, Adrama," she said, "and I will no longer act in any way to bring Denethor from Finduilas. I will not say anything, I will not do anything... I leave the outcome to Fate. But, daughter, as long as I live I will never say anything is hopeless. I believe there is always hope. And so, though I do not do anything out of love for you, I will continue to hope until it really is over."

And then a light came to Adrama's face, and hope flooded her. She returned her mother's embrace with such feeling that Pelien began to wonder if something were not the matter with her daughter. Adrama laughed and turned to the window, looking out with such peace and joy that she could never describe it afterwards. "Mother, oh dear, dear Mother, please, do not hope, for even if Denethor were to break his engagement to Finduilas, I would still not marry him. I have realized the truth." And then she laughed again, but slowly her face sobered and she shook her head. "Perhaps I am just imagining things. Oh, how quickly the heart of a human does change! I must think about it, Mother, and then I later I shall tell you the decision I come to, perhaps after the matter is settled."

And then, kissing her mother on the cheek, she called for some breakfast. Pelien was confused when Adrama left the room with an empty place. If her daughter had such a great appetite, she couldn't be sorrowing. What had come over her?

Adrama herself wasn't sure, but she felt like singing and dancing. At last everything had been made clear to her, and nothing was being hidden. Why did she not weep when she thought of how her hopes of wedding Denethor were over? And why did she suddenly think of...... here she discontinued her thoughts on that matter. She'd have to think about it first, she'd have to speak to him, she'd have to see if it was really a possibility or if she was just going crazy over her loss. But it was so clear, so clear... all her feelings were finally being revealed to her. Why had she not seen them before?

You didn't want to see them, you foolish woman, Adrama thought, stepping outside. You knew all along what was in your heart, but you ignored it because it seemed so impossible. And now, even when they're clear, they still seem impossible. Why do I not sorrow when I have been told that I have lost Denethor? Why do I instead laugh and feel joyous? Dizziness swept over her and she placed her hand against the wall of the house to steady herself. And then, suddenly, she realized. Even though her feelings for Denethor were seeping slowly out of her, she had once loved him so very much and now she had lost him. What had she been thinking before? She loved Denethor and he was gone.

A little sob burst from her and the tears came swiftly to her eyes. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to keep herself under control. After all, she was standing outside where everyone would be able to see her. And she felt far too dizzy to go back inside to her room. No, she'd just have to keep her emotions in check, even if it was hard. She wept inwardly, but on the outside only one tear managed to escape her eye, and she kept her face well shielded to those who were at a distance.

But what of those who were standing close by? Adrama was suddenly aware of someone standing in front of her, watching her, so she turned away, murmuring a barely audible greeting. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and drop away again, and the familiar voice of Addruran ask, "Are you all right, Adrama?" There was concern in his voice, so much that she actually felt sorry for him. Turning, she put on her brightest smile and denied that she was feeling unwell.

"Very well, then," said Addruran, accepting her word, though there was suspicision in his voice. "I came to see how you and your family are doing, and to speak with you."

"No, no, Addruran, not now. I lied. I am feeling terrible. I'm so confused..... Can I talk to you later? Alone, please. No one can hear. I need someone to talk to. I desperately need someone to talk to."

"Of course," he replied, and need it be said that some hope was reborn in him when he heard her words. "Anything."

"Now I had better go back in. Mother isn't in the best of moods, I fear, and she not might like me speaking with you." Adrama said this without any fear of startling Addruran, for he knew quite well that Pelien didn't approve of him stopping by all the time. Adrama grabbed his hand and squeezed it, then, after a brief smile, disappeared into the house, hoping that her mother hadn't seen them speaking or, even worse, heard what had been said.

[ September 14, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Child of the 7th Age

09-11-2003, 07:18 AM

Eckthelion leaned back in his chair fingering a small stack of letters that had been set down on a tray in front of him. He owed a debt of gratitude to Diorwyn, a debt that he would not forget when she left Minas Tirith to return to her home in Dol Amroth. It was not only that she had responded to him politely and promptly, but the notes he'd received were exactly what he'd hoped for. Vieana, Averyll, and Eleniel.... His personal agents had done a bit of digging to ferret out the details on each of the women who'd replied. And the background of the women, their personalities and loyalties, seemed to be the precise match for the job.

The Steward hunched over his desk and carefully set his quill to the sheet of blank vellum that lay before him on the desk. After several moments of writing, he stopped to reread the message before folding the sheet over and applying his personal seal.

Ladies Vieana, Averyll, and Eleniel,

My personal greetings to you and yours.

It was with keen interest that I received your recent messages regarding the matter that Diorwyn and I had previously discussed.

As Diorwyn explained to you, I strongly suspect that one or more members of my immediate entourage are intercepting dispatches in order to gain access to information that would normally not be available to them. This highly sensitive material is likely being forwarded to the authorities in Umbar.

Since the dispatches are handled solely by my personal guards in Minas Tirith, I consider it most likely that the particular person involved is stationed at the nearby garrison. I would enlist your help to uncover the identity of this individual.

Your task will be to gather information--this and nothing more. Use your eyes and existing contacts, asking subtle questions to uncover details that are not readily apparent to the casual eye. You are to convey all information gathered directly to me. Even if you find that a particular guard looks to be at fault, you are not to approach him at this time.

Rather, I have a later strategy in mind that will help us identify who is actually innocent and guilty. More importantly, this ploy may aid us in publicly identifying the persons at the top of the chain who are employing and manipulating these lesser agents.

My own men have been able to do some preliminary leg work. We know that a confidential message was sent directly from Gandalf to me, and that it definitely arrived at the garrison four days ago. It should have been immediately sorted and sent on to my attention. That did not happen. The dispatch appeared on my desk only the morning after the masquerade.

We need to identify every person who handled that dispatch in the interim. There are no written records of these assignments and the commanders themselves do not keep track of such a 'routine' task, a deficiency that we will remedy in the near future. Only the guards are likely to notice, but will account it a matter of little importance whether one person does the chore or another.

If I was to begin asking questions, the entire garrison would be immediately aware that something was very wrong. We simply cannot tip our hand to Umbar's agents in this manner. Therefore, we must proceed with secrecy. It is far more acceptable to have a young woman ask innocent questions, perhaps under the guise of helping track down a guard who's caught her friend's fancy.

First, Averyll....Could you make discreet inquiries as to the identify of the guard who rode down to the Anduin and met the small, swift vessel that brings in the dispatches from lands to the south? This ship would have docked four days prior to the masquerade. The dispatch that was diverted was definitely delivered at that time. Give me as much information as you can -- the solider's name, physical description, from what city he ostensibly hails, and whether his fellows have noticed any strange behavior on his part.

Eleniel....In the same manner, you are to find out who was the guard responsible for sorting the dispatches that same day, once they arrived in the garrison.

And lastly, Vieana, you are to find out which guard delivered the dispatches to my office the morning after the masquerade.

One of these three is surely a spy....possibly all of them. We know there was tampering going on at this point. But if you find out their names, I will be able to discover who the guilty party is.

I wish you success in your endeavors and beg you to carry out your tasks with caution and secrecy.

Gondor is forever in your debt.

Eckthelion
Steward of Gondor

The Steward wrote out two identical copies of the letter. He could not risk entrusting the task to a scribe, since he yet had no idea who was loyal and who was not. It was this fact, as much as any other, that had forced him to turn to the women of Dol Amroth for aid. At least he could be fairly certain that they were not part of the court cabal that was loyal to Umbar.

He read over the dispatch one final time to make sure that it said exactly what he wanted and then called his personal manservant into the room, telling him to deliver the messages as quickly as he could without stopping to talk to anyone.

[ September 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Elora

09-11-2003, 05:55 PM

Ruiel held her daughter against her, pleased at Dryea's return to her senses and somewhat surprised all the same. When they parted, Ruiel held Dryea at arms length, a hand on each shoulder. She was wearing the mourning colours and that ring. Perhaps the change of heart was not all that it seemed, perhaps not. Dryea bore her mother's inspection silently, seemingly complacently.
Ruiel smiled in satisfaction and released her.

"Umbar is blessed to have daughters such as you, Dryea Morthaniawen." Ruiel turned and walked back to where a group of chairs sat around the hearth. She left the expectation that Dryea would follow behind her. Obedient, Dryea was seated soon after her mother.

"Have you eaten," Ruiel inquired. Dryea shook her head. Yes, the grief was deep. Still, that could be used. Ruiel passed her daughter a delicate china plate and then a platter of fruits.

"You will need your strength." Dryea looked at the food unconvinced and then dutifully took a spray of plump, sweet grapes from the platter. It went as far as her china plate and there remained untouched, and raised her pale face to meet her mother's speculative and considering gaze. Blue eyes turned with cunning thoughts were alight by the hearth that morning.

"You wished to speak with me, mother," Dryea prompted, wishing only to loose herself in service and feel nothing else. Ruiel nodded, as though she had agreed with herself and began.

"Word has reached me that you and Alethea had a disagreement last night..." Dryea leant back in her chair, eyes closing. "If word has reached me, then it will also have found other ears. I have not yet heard what words you exchanged..." Dryea opened her eyes and mouth to interceded but Ruiel held up her hand to forestall any word.

"And I will not ask for them," Dryea blinked in apparent surprise at her mother's uncustomary leniancy. "Disappointing? Yes... and I will speak to Alethea also this morning. Irreparable? I do not think so." Dryea watched her mother smile dangerously and then take a sip of the Khandese coffee from the nearby cup with a sinking heart. She barely recalled what she had said, but none of it was good for others to hear.

"This morning's tragedy could be our redemption." Succinctly, Ruiel went on to outline how Dryea would play the very public role of grieving betrothed. The news of the engagement had spread like wildfire. The more grief stricken and fragile she was, the more latitude would they be accorded. For example, who now would question Dryea closely over the disasterous bickering with Alethea now that Dryea was garbed in the melancholoy of death's pain.

The fact that Dryea was genuinely grieved, shadows of pain in her eyes, only made the cover all the more stronger.

"Weep delicately, faint even if you think it is necessary, but allow noone the chance to question you closely about matters of state, the Steward or your relationship with Alethea." Ruiel was clearly pleased with how it was all coming together. Rhir had been a millstone in life, but in death was a boon beyond all value.

"But what of Alethea?" Dryea's voice was faint. Yes, she'd do well as grieving widow... young love taken so soon in it's nadir of beauty... so unjustly... Few could withstand the depth of blackness of such grief long enough to extract the possibly damaging answers to uncomfortable questions. Furthermore, it offered an opportunity to plant more dissention under the cover of bereavement for those who briefly stopped by to pass on their condolences.

"I will ensure Alethea understands her part in this, daughter. Mark my words." There was an iron in her voice and face then. It was clear in that moment why Ruiel Morthaniawen had risen so far from such humble beginnings. Ruiel then rose and crossed to ring the taper and summon Rannë.

The maid appeared with alacrity, shooting a concerned and compassionate glance to where Dryea sat with her head bowed.

"Have the house adorned with the mourning swathes. Staff are to wear the black and ensure that all are ready to receive any guests. Have flowers arranged for the reception room and throw the gates open."

Rannë nodded as Ruiel fired instructions at her. Black taffeta swathes had to be installed on the front gates and the facade of the manor. Arm bands had to be found for the staff. Flowers had to be ordered from the flower merchants.

"And rouse Alethea and send her to me immediately! Inform me of any arrivals Rannë, any!"

Rannë curtsied and beat a hasty departure from her mistress, who seemed possessed by a strange energy. Ruiel turned back to where Dryea sat by the hearth.

"You will need your strength, daughter. Eat," she urged. Dryea mechanically plucked a grape between two fingers as Ruiel turned back to the larger arrangements.

"This will do more for us than anything I could have contrived. You have done Umbar proud, Dryea, and your mother."

Everdawn

09-13-2003, 05:21 AM

Vieana's eyes widened as she read hte letter over Averyll's shoulder. "The Steward!" she exclaimed. "Things are worse than we thought..." she paused thinking, it seemed that there had been developments since her meeting with the guards the night before.

"Well, it is our duty as true Dol Amroth women to do what we can, and if the steward himself asks it of us, well... Imagine how proud Dardanir will be of me." Vieana exclaimed. I guess that will mean Averyll will have a nice trip today and see the sights, as will you Elen." she spoke whilst rushing across the room for her shawl.

"I on the other hand have some work at the barracks to do." It had been a long time since Vieana had been filled with such feeling of responsibility, now she would have her chance ot proove what Dol Amroth women were made of and do her military family in Dol Amroth proud. "Goodday to you all" Vieana said stepping out the door, her light blue skirts flowing lightly in the breeze.

It was not a long way to the Barracks, and Vieana was not short of guards pointing her the right way.I think it best to rule out any involvement by our men, we have had dealings with Umbar in the past. Yes i think it the best course of action. "How can i help you m'lady" a stout guard asked her when she reached the gates.

"Oh! I was just wondering if i could speak with the Dol Amroth guards of Finduilas please" she asked sweetly. "Im sure they are in, allow me to escort you there" The guard answered. As they walked he asked her many questions, and seemed nice. Vieana suspected her harsh judgement of the guards was wrong. "Here we are Lady, i hope you find what you are after." he said as they faced a large white marble building.

Some of the familliar guards came out to meet her. "Thankyou Inanilon" she said as one of the guards sat her down and offered her tea which she took greatfully, the guard fetched Naian, their commander. "Lady Vieana, how may i be of service?" he asked his face was concearned.
I musnt give away too muchshe thought to herself.

"Naian, i want you to tell me truthfully, have you or any of them men come into contact with any messages, anytime we have been here?" Vieana turned her grey stare on the guard. "No lady, none at all. I can tell you where all the men have been all this time. Why do you ask?"

"Its just that... well, i was expecting a letter from my husband. Yes, thats all, Dardanir thought that he was going to be posted here right away. The general was going to post him to Finduilas' guard." Vieana was breathing heavily.

"Are you sure you are allright mistress?" Naian asked. "Yes Naian, I dont doubt your word, you are loyal to Dardanir, and i have grown to expect the same. Thankyou" Vieana was relieved, Naian had bought her story. "Is there anyhting else Lady Vieana?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, could you take me to the men who handle all of the messages?"

"I would be glad to run your errand Lady, if it would save you trouble, you dont want to be among these men." Naian said walking her in the street to the sorting house. "No sir, this is somehting i have to do myself" she laughed. "My lord is indeed fortunate to have such a lady in his keep" Naian smirked. "YOu never rest until a task is done do you?" he asked stopping at the door.

"Never" Vieana answered stepping inside. The sight that met her was that of a normal sorting house anywhere to be seen, but the crest of Gondor shone on the marble floor. Her footsteps echoed in the rooms as she walked up to the main desk. Turn on your charm Vieana, sweet as a lamb, elusive as the next man or Umbar agent.she spoke in her head.

"Miss?" another Minas Tirith guard answered upon seeing her. "Yes sir, why i was just wondering where i may speak with the man who is in charge of this fine facility?" That was a little too sweet she thought and smiled He should fall like a swatted fly. "Yes Miss, i will get him."

A few minutes later she was lead inot another large room down the hall where one man sat and several others were standing. "Greetings, my name is Brígon, i was informed you wish to speak with me?" he asked, his voice was hard with a hint of contempt.

"Yes, i am Mrs Captain Dardanir the high guard of Dol Amroth, daughter in law of the Dol Amroth general, my name is Lady Vieana." At once one of the standing guards began to whisper to another who then disappeared from the room. Well, that is indeed strange... "And what can we do for the Lady of such standing." He was holding something back, why such an attitude towards her? Vieana clenched her jaw and held her head up high.

"I was just thinking how i had not heard from my city, i was expecting a letter. I was told it would arrive four days ago, i recieved it yesterday." she lied.

"I can assure you that any message for the DOl Amroths would have been taken to their house by the Dol Amroth guards." Brígon spoke smugly. "You do not believe me, you may speak with the man who handles the dispatches, speaking of whom has just arrived. I will leave you, i assure you i have other business ot attend to, goodday."

Vieana was left with a sandy haired man, who spoke deeply. "If i can be of help in any way?"
"Do you know who delivered the important messages yesterday, to anyone, i mean, Lady Tessa? Lady Finduilas? the Steward even, i am ever so troubled that my lettera are caught up and landed some other place." Vieana smiled.

"I do seem to remember that it was one of the newer guards, so new infact i dont even know his name, dark haired man, young... I just cant seem to remember... If you like i can get someone to take you to find him."

"That is quite allright." Vieana said quickly, gathering up her shawl and parisol. "I will have to accept that my husband has trouble with addresses, thankyou you have been ever so helpful."

Vieana was the first one home that afternoon. Lessawen left her some tea and writing materials. So it was a dark haired young man, a new man, and the other two guards at the sorting house... strange.. the thoughts tarried in her mind as she wrote her message to the steward.

My lord
As you instructed to us this day, I have been out among your men and mine at the barracks. During my time there i gained information that none of the Dol Amroth guards are responsible, their captain informed me so and those men are loyal to me and my house. I fabricated a story about my messages being fowarded late and insisted in speaking to the man in charge of the sorting house, Brígon. He seemd very hostile to me when i was there. As soon as i mentioned who i was, two men who were also there whispered something and then were gone. I do not like to speculate what it was about.

I also spoke to the man who was incharge of the dispatches, and he said that the letters to the noble houses that day were handled by a young, dark haired man who he did not know his name. I hope that i have been of some use to your cause, and I am happy to be in the service of Gondor.

Lady Vieana

Vieana handed the letter sealed to Lessawen. "Do not let this out of your sight, you have been my maid since i was a girl, since you were a girl, i hope that you are as loyal to me as i am to you. This is not to be seen by anyone but the Steward, take it to him, do you understand?"
Lessawen bowed and went on her way to deliver the message.

[ September 13, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

Ealasaide

09-13-2003, 09:53 PM

After Vieana had left for the barracks and Elen had gone back to her room to change for her outing, Averyll reread the steward’s letter one last time before folding it and carefully stowing it a hidden pocket inside the lining of her dress. It would not do to leave such a letter lying about for anyone to find. She would burn it later.

Obviously, Eckthelion had done his homework, sending Vieana, the wife of a captain of the guards to the barracks and herself, the widow of a navy officer to the docks. She smiled. She still had many friends among the Dol Amroth naval officers. She knew a Captain Parris who made the run from Dol Amroth across the Bay of Belfalas and up the Anduin to Minas Tirith every several weeks, carrying mail and dispatches between the two cities. If she remembered correctly, his ship would already be in port and no doubt preparing for the return trip. She hurried to her rooms to dress for the outing with a fresh spring in her step, marveling at how a disastrous yesterday could turn so quickly to a hope-filled and exciting today. She knew what she must do for the steward and Finduilas and was determined that she would carry it through with absolute caution and prudence. But she could also have a little fun while she was about it.

Having changed quickly into a new dress of pale green brocade, she tied on her hat and got quickly underway. The steward had already arranged a horse and an escort of guards to take her beyond the walls of the city to the banks of the Anduin. Arriving at the docks, Averyll dismounted and left her horse in the care of one of the guards, while the other accompanied her in the direction of the ships. Even from a distance, she could distinguish the sleek lines of Parris’ ship. While she knew she owed her escort no explanation, she decided it would be wise to make light conversation as they went.

Smiling merrily, she pointed to the tall masts of Parris’ ship. “That’s the Sea Witch,” she explained. “My husband captained her sister ship, the Enchantress. I feel like I know her like the back of my hand, though I’ve been aboard the Sea Witch but once.”

The guard, a fair-haired young man of rather plain countenance but pleasant demeanor, nodded politely. “I’ve never been to sea,” he said in answer, his eyes never straying from the tall masts and elegant lines of the sea-going vessel. “She looks fast.”

“Fast enough to outrun the swiftest of the Corsairs’ ships,” Averyll explained proudly. Before the birth of her son, Averyll had sailed with her husband on the occasion run and remembered well the thrill of running at full sail before the wind, her hair whipping her face, deaf to everything but the sharp snap of the canvas sails and the crash of the waves beneath the Enchantress’ prow. Those were the few memories of her marriage that she truly cherished. She tried not to think about how the Enchantress had eventually run afoul of a nasty squall and perished with all hands, bringing Averyll’s up-to-then pleasant life to an abrupt and eye-opening change. She said nothing of this to the guard.

As they approached the berth of the Sea Witch, Averyll was delighted to see Parris himself standing on deck overseeing the stowing of supplies for the return voyage to Dol Amroth. She waved up at him. At first not believing his eyes, Parris did a quick double-take. Then a broad smile spread across his weathered features.

“Lady Averyll!” he called over the side to her. “You’re a long way from home! Either that or I’ve been at sea too long and am having a very pleasant hallucination. Whichever it is, come aboard!”

She happily accepted his invitation and, assisted by the young guard, climbed aboard.

“Captain Parris!” she said extending her hand.

“Lady Averyll!” he responded and, taking her hand in his, kissed it. “What brings you to Minas Tirith of all places?”

“Hadn’t you heard?” she replied with a reproachful smile. “I’ve accompanied Lady Finduilas here as one of her ladies-in-waiting. I don’t know how long I will be here… at least through the wedding. After that, I’m not sure.”

From there, the conversation drifted to news and gossip from home and the sea, with Parris doing most of the talking and Averyll, an eager and willing audience. She missed Dol Amroth and the ocean deeply, and her three year old son most of all. Parris, unfortunately, had not been in contact with her in-laws and had no news of her son. Averyll hid her deep disappointment, but decided to use the subject as an opening to pursuing her mission for the steward.

“How long have you been in port?” she asked. “I’ve been expecting a letter from my in-laws for days and, so far, nothing. Not having any children of your own, you probably can’t understand how difficult it is not hearing anything about my little boy for so long. It’s very hard.”

Parris gave her a sympathetic nod. “No, I think I do understand,” he said quietly. “I wish I had some good news for you, but we have been in port nigh on five days now, making repairs to the hull. We brushed a reef just before entering the Anduin’s delta and have been taking on water ever since. It had to be repaired before setting sail. I’m afraid we’re the only mail ship in or out of port since.”

“Oh,” Averyll sighed. “They promised they would write to me every day with word of how he is getting on and if he misses his mummy. Is there any chance my letters might have gone astray?”

Parris started to shake his head, but stopped abruptly when he saw the look of forlorn hope in her wide, blue eyes. After a moment’s thought, he sighed. “You can try speaking to Athadan. He’s the one who receives all mail and dispatches on this end of the run. If anyone knows what’s become of your letters, it would be he.”

“Athadan?” Averyll gave Parris her prettiest smile. “Thank you so much, Parris. You don’t know what this means to me. I shall be sure to speak with him.”

“Be careful of that one,” Parris added suddenly. “To be honest, I don’t entirely trust him.”

This interested Averyll tremendously, especially since she trusted Parris and Parris’ judgment absolutely. After all, was it not Parris who tried to warn her of her husband’s improprieties months before they actually came to light? If Parris was distrustful of this man Athadan, then it was something she should definitely look into.

Averyll frowned slightly. “Is he dangerous? Should I be frightened of him?”

“No,” Parris shook his head. “But be wary. While he has always been quite competent and professional in his dealings, I get the feeling that he, well, resents his duties. In fact, lately, he has been boasting to my crew of how he will soon be taking his proper place in the world and won’t be a mere messenger boy anymore.”

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Averyll. “Perhaps he is getting an inheritance of some kind.”

Parris laughed. “And I imagine it’s wearing petticoats! The only way his kind gains position or status is by marrying it. And there have been rumors of his courting some high-ranking female on the sly, though I can't imagine who. He's just the second son of a nobody lord from the provinces.”

“Don’t be mean, Parris!” Averyll chided him gently. “It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“But the sea air suits you admirably!” rejoined Parris with a smile. “When you return to Dol Amroth, you must let me take you and your boy sailing. If he’s anything like his father, he’ll have the sea on his veins.”

Averyll grimaced. “That’s precisely why he won’t go sailing. I can’t have him running off to sea just yet. He’s only three.”

Captain Parris smiled. He was just beginning to say something else when his attention was diverted by the arrival of a horseman along the shoreline. Averyll followed his gaze to the rider as he dismounted and approached the ship. A tall young man with black hair and a thick black moustache, he wore the standard black and silver livery of Gondor, the tree and seven stars emblem shining on his chest. His olive-skinned face was pleasant enough to look upon, though not overly handsome, with deep-set dark eyes. Averyll thought she could detect a slight swagger to his walk.

“Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Parris murmured to himself. Turning to Averyll, he added, “Here’s your man, Athadan, now. If you wish to speak with him, now’s your chance.”

Thanking Parris profusely, Averyll bid him a sad good-bye and disembarked, walking to where Athadan stood talking to one of her escorts. Parris’s gray-green eyes watched wistfully as she walked away, then, sighing, he returned to the business of his ship.

Athadan delivered a short bow as Averyll joined him and the other guard.

“Greetings, Lady Averyll,” he said. “What brings you to the banks of the Anduin today, if I may be so bold?”

“Mostly my friend, Captain Parris,” she answered, opening her fan with a sharp flick of her wrist. “I heard he was in port and thought it would be pleasant to reacquaint myself. And who might you be, sir, that you should question one of Lady Finduilas' ladies so, without so much as an introduction?"

This time, he delivered a deep bow. "I am Athadan of Harondor, at your service, my lady. My apologies if I offended you. It is just rare to see a lady such as yourself out here by the river."

"Apologies accepted," Averyll said pleasantly. "Actually, I am happy to make your acquaintance. I was just inquiring of the captain if any letters had arrived for me from Dol Amroth. He assured me that he was aware of none, but that if any had come, you would be the one to know. So?" She fluttered her fan in her best imitation of a coy lady of the court, though it was not her usual style at all. "Have any letters come for me?"

A slight shadow passed over Athadan's dark eyes, then he grinned what Averyll thought to be a very superior grin for a mere guard. "Sorry," he said blandly. "The Sea Witch has been the only dispatch boat into port this week and I've seen to it that everything from that drop has been delivered. I don't recall seeing anything for you, though I doubt I would remember specifically. I suggest you check with fellows who sort the mail. Perhaps they would remember."

"No, that's all right," Averyll tried to sound disappointed. "I believe you. There was probably nothing if neither you nor Captain Parris remember anything. But I thank you for your time." Not willing to overplay her hand, Averyll ended the conversation shortly thereafter with a few lame pleasantries and an amiable smile. Taking her two guards with her, she left Athadan at the river and returned to the city. When she got home, she retired immediately to the writing desk in her room where she composed a letter to the steward, detailing her conversation with Captain Parris and her subsequent meeting with Athadan. When she had finished, she folded the vellum neatly and sealed it with a drop of midnight blue sealing wax and the emblem of a leaping dolphin, the symbol of her father's house.

Child of the 7th Age

09-13-2003, 10:53 PM

The afternoon sun flooded in through the open curtains as two men sat talking in hushed tones over lunch in the private dining room.

"Denethor, I promise to take care of this. I do thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I've heard of these rumors already, and they do not please me..."

"As to your other request, regarding the Lady Pelien, I will tell you that I am hesitent to act in the manner you suggest."

Eckthelion stared at this son and sighed, "You're young. Just getting married. You have no idea yet what it is to have children, to love them beyond anything in the world, yet sometimes be unable to help them."

"If Lady Pelien has overstepped her bounds, and I do not doubt that fact, it is not because she is a traitor or wishes ill to our household. No....she is a mother who has failed to get her daughter what the young woman so desperately wanted. Surely you're aware of that. I am well aware that Adrama had her eye set on you, and that her mother tried to aid her in that."

"You liked her well enough. She is of good family and brighter than most. Who knows....? If it hadn't been for Finduilas catching your eye, and our need for an alliance, the Lady Adrama might have been chosen to join our family. Her mother finds that hard to forget when she sees her daughter's sorrowing eyes."

"Lady Pelien is no traitor. And I have no wish to start a battle with her, or her family. She was merely repeating what others have said. We must look elsewhere for the author of these lies. This is where the poison lies."

With these words, Eckthelion drew closer to his son and confided to him the name of the traitors, cautioning him to keep the news to himself. The response came swift and immediate, "But father, I cannot believe this. Are you certain? Do we have proof?"

"I am certain enough in my heart, and enough has been shown to convince me. But we can do nothing till we secure some public confirmation of what I've privately learned."

"And will you do this?"

"Aye, the trap has been set, and we will soon see what creature is caught inside. Go now to Finduilas. Tell her I am proud of how she responded to Pelien's words, and for her not to be overly harsh on the poor woman. And you, Denethor, are fortunate to have chosen a wife worthy of you, and of our family!"

"I have already sent out the invitations for the betrothal party. By week's end, you will stand in front of the court to make your promises, and all else will be forgotten. And, if I get my wish, by week's end, these poisonous vipers will be caught in a trap of their own making, and I will have them under my command."

With that, the two men parted, with Eckthelion returning to his desk to work.

********************************************

Eckthelion hunched over the table scribbling out one last letter, this one directed to the Lady Pelien. The woman was no spy or agent. He was certain of that. No agent of Umbar would dare have approached his son face-to-face with such a preposterous set of charges. If anything, Lady Pelien was the one person he could be totally certain was innocent of any serious misdeeds. She was not involved in any of the scheming other than as an innocent bystander, albeit one whose mouth was a bit too loose.

He sighed and reread the letter that sat in front of him, making sure that the words and tone conveyed the exact message he intended:

Dearest Lady Pelien,

It has come to my attention that there was a minor misunderstanding yesterday evening at the ball. Denethor came to me expressing his own concerns and those of his Lady Finduilas, a young woman of unblemished descent in whom I put great trust.

I assured my son that the whole episode had been a regrettable misunderstanding. Your family has long been among the most trusted and valued supporters of the Stewards, and I assured him this relationship would continue in the future.

With this thought in mind, I would like to put forward a proposal, for there is indeed a way that your family could assist me in safeguarding the security of Gondor. I would be most grateful if you could set up a luncheon for two days after tomorrow. This luncheon would be for three of the guards stationed in the garrison. I will be sending you the names shortly.

Please arrange for three young unattached ladies of appropriate station to attend and keep them company. You will, of course, wish to include your own daughter Adrama as well.

One other consideration. As you may have suspected, this party is more than a simple afternoon luncheon. There is a viper loose in the court, and we will use your little party to uncover just who that viper is. You do not need to bother with the details of all this. However, I will be sending you an official dispatch under separate cover addressed to Sador. Do not open that dispatch, but set it clearly out on a table, in plain sight of all, in the very room where the soldiers are asked to leave their weapons and cloaks. I will do the rest.

One final request. It is also imperative that Addruran attend this little gathering. I will contact him personally, since he will be the one assisting me in these endeavors. I have great trust in him. He is a man of valor and common sense, and one whom I've marked out for future responsibilities and a position of trust.

I pray that this arrangement will meet with your agreement, and that of your husband and family.

Regards,
Eckthelion, Steward of Gondor

alaklondewen

09-15-2003, 01:34 PM

Pelien sat quietly at the breakfast table while Rummel busied herself taking up the dirty dishes and bringing fresh coffee for Pelien’s cup. Pelien, however, paid her no attention as she contemplated Adrama’s joyous reaction to her mother’s news. Had the girl completely lost her mind? Pelien was more than a little concerned about her daughter’s well-being, and this complete reversal of emotion just didn’t seem right.

“Lady Pelien…” The servant girl’s voice broke through Pelien’s thoughts and when the older woman looked up with an annoyed expression as to why she was being disturbed, Rummel continued. “There’s a messenger at the door, Madame.”

“Very well.” Pelien rose slowly from the table curious as to the nature of a message. Several possibilities ran through her mind…the message might be from Denethor apologizing for his reaction and thanking her for telling him the truth; or maybe it was from the Princess who wished to meet with Pelien before she returned to Dol Amroth…Pelien smiled at the possibilities.

As she entered the foyer her eyes landed on a young man dressed in the colors of the Steward standing next to the door. “Lady Pelien, I carry with me two letters from the Steward.” The young guard stepped forward with confidence and placed the messages in her hand. Then after a small bow, the messenger turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Pelien stood in silence for several moments just looking at the letters in her hands. Her heartbeat had steadily increased and her palms were damp, but with a deep breath Pelien overcame her nervousness and opened the first letter. She slowly began to read as she sauntered into the parlor and dropped into her favorite high-backed chair. As she finished the letter, Pelien folded the parchment and slipped it back in to the envelope.

For several minutes Pelien sat in complete silence weighing the news in the letter. The Steward was offering her a chance to redeem herself, which on one hand brought her great relief, yet on the other, she now had a great responsible not only to the Steward but now also to all of Gondor. In two days she would have another luncheon in which three unsuspecting guards would be tempted to read a confidential document. Her job now, which would be hard work, was to set up the luncheon and invite three young women as companions to the guards.

Pelien finally turned her attention to the second envelope that she unconsciously had been rotating with her thumb and forefinger. After carefully breaking the seal she slid the parchment from its cover. The second note was much shorter than the first, and read as follows…

Lady Pelien,

I have just received the information that you will need to complete your preparations for the luncheon. I will therefore send this list of names along with the same messenger who brings my letter to you.

Here is the list of names of the young men whom you will want to invite:

• Brigon - the gentleman in charge of the sorting house

• Athadan of Harondor - the guard who receives all mail and dispatches from the arriving ships, and, lastly,

• Aranarth, born and bred in Minas Tirith who was responsible for delivering the mail to my office the morning after the masquerade.

As I have said, you may also expect to see
Addruran who will be acting as my trusted agent in this affair.

Written in great haste,
Eckthelion, Steward

As soon as she refolded the paper, the entrance door opened and Adrama strolled across the foyer. “Adrama!” Pelien called out.

“Yes, Mother?” As Adrama turned toward the parlor, Pelien noticed a new lightness in her daughter’s steps.

“I want you to see something.” Pelien held the first of the Steward’s letters out to her daughter. As Adrama unfolded the paper and began to read, Pelien added, “I will need you help with this.”

[ September 16, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Arien

09-15-2003, 01:46 PM

“Come in,” Alethea called towards the knock on the Drawing Room door. It opened to reveal Rannë.

“Your mother wishes to see you,” she said abruptly, and before Alethea could reply she had vanished as quickly as she had entered. Alethea shut the book she was just reading and placed on the antique table beside her chair. She rose slowly and made her way over to the desk in the corner of the room. She would go to her mother in a minute; right now she had to send word to Adrama.

Alethea pulled up a chair and dipped the quill into ink, gingerly holding it over the parchment for a few seconds. A drop of ink fell and she started to write:

Dearest Adrama,
I whish to meet with you this afternoon, around 3 o’clock; if it is possible. I have some troubles on my mind that I believe you may be able to help me with and I long to speak to some one. I will meet you in the Public Garden where we first meet. I must go now; I hope I will see you soon.
Wishes Alethea

Alethea read the letter over again, and when she was satisfied she rolled it up and tied it with a string. It would be hard to get the letter out of the house without a servant intercepting it and informing her mother. The only one she felt she could trust was Meirelle, but she had to find her and Alethea dreaded the thought of keeping her mother waiting too long.

Alethea pushed back the chair swiftly and ran through the door towards the main hall. When she reached it she gazed around for Meirelle, but she could not see her. Where would she be? Alethea whispered under her breath. It was nearing noon so she would probably be in the kitchen. Alethea hurried down the corridor to the kitchen, her dress sweeping across the sheen floor. As she neared the kitchen a figure came out.

“Your mother wants you,” said Meirelle quietly shutting the door behind her.

“I know, I know.” She answered exasperatedly, “But before I go I must ask something of you.”

“Anything,” she replied.

Alethea placed the letter into Meirelle’s palms, “Can you deliver this to Adrama, please. You cannot let anyone see it apart from her.” Meirelle nodded placing it inside of her dress pocket. I need to go out for some spices anyway, I will deliver it while I am out. A grateful smile fell across Alethea’s face and she thanked her before hurrying off to meet her mother.

Alethea knocked on the door tentatively and was told to enter. Her mother was sat at her desk and she motioned for Alethea to sit down.

“My daughter, how nice of you to come so speedily…” she commented scribbling something down on the paper in front of her.

“I was….”

“I don’t need an excuse Alethea,” she replied holding her hand up to silence her, “Now I desire to talk to you…”

[ September 17, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

Lyra Greenleaf

09-15-2003, 02:59 PM

"Really? A spy? How...thrilling!"
Thrilling!, Emilia thought scathingly. Did Lorna not realise how serious this was? She conveniently forgot her own reaction to the news in indignation over Lorna's.
"Yes" she answered, face impassive, voice earnest. "I can't tell you any details, of course, Ecthelion swore me to secrecy. Only the most inner circle know the details."

Lorna's mouth formed an 'O' of surpprise, jealousy of Emilia's supposed position in the inner circle shining from her eyes.
"Of course" Lorna answered innocently, nodding. "I suppose you couldn't give me any idea... who?"

"No I could not" Emilia's voice was calculated to contain shock, outrage and disapproval. "It's highly confidential"
"Of course" Lorna murmured again, drawing away absently as she realised she would get no more details.

Emilia could see that even as only a partial story, Lorna would see this as one of the best she had ever heard. Emilia had not broken any of Ecthelion's wishes, and in fact it might help to have an awareness of the spies. She had made it clear enough- even for Lorna- that the group from Dol Amroth had nothing to do with it, which he would surely see as a benefit too. Emilia was feeling rather virtuous all around, in fact. She hoped that there would be some sort of a reward coming for her behaviour very soon...

[ September 19, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

Nurumaiel

09-17-2003, 02:43 PM

Adrama read the letter quietly, and when she finished she folded it gently and placed it back in the envelope. Her mother handed her the first. This letter took her a few minutes to finish with, for she read it thrice over. A little sigh escaped her and she handed both letters back to her mother. There was a long silence, in which neither spoke, but many thoughts came and went in Adrama's mind. At last, with another sigh, she spoke slowly. "I will help, Mother," she said. "There is a person of evil here, and I will do all that I may to reveal her, though the name of this person might be one I do not wish it to be."

Her thoughts were of Alethea. She didn't know very much of the girl and her family, and it had been rather obvious to Adrama's naturally intelligent and sharp personality that there was some secret Alethea had been hiding. There was not even the slightest clue as to what it was, until now. Could it be that the traitor was Alethea, and that is what she had been hiding? The thought was too dreadful, too terrible. They had become fast friends, and Adrama knew what she would lose.

Straightening herself up and nodding with a sudden resolution, she turned abruptly away from her mother. A breeze found its way into the window and through the room, and Adrama welcomed it to soothe her burning cheeks. And with the breeze went all her fears. Maybe Alethea was the traitor, but if so, it meant Alethea was not her friend. All would be an act, an act to bring trust from the citizens at Minas Tirith and support later when she was discover. Surely Alethea knew that sooner or later her horrible plans would be discovered. But with the friendship of the people of Minas Tirith, she would have supporters right and left, protesting against any accusations.

"Adrama..." Pelien gently touched her daughter's shoulder. At the simple yet obvious sign of affection, Adrama felt a lump go to her throat and a tear to her eye. "Something is troubling you greatly, daughter," Pelien said softly. "What is it? Could it be that you know who this traitor is?"

For the briefest moment Adrama hesitated, wondering if it were all from her imagination or if there was actually evidence that proved Alethea was indeed the traitor. But she was, she had to be. Nothing else could explain her behavior of hiding something... and what about the clear anxiety that had been on her face at the masquerade? Adrama's voice came so quietly that her words were barely perceptible. "Yes, Mother, I know who it is."

Pelien did not question her. There was another period of silence, then Pelien spoke again, her voice carrying a lighter note, obviously trying to draw Adrama away from dismal thoughts. "Ecthelion has already named the men who will be attending our luncheon," she said. "He has left it to us to select the young ladies. I have already made up my mind." She waited for Adrama to face her, but seeing that the young woman did not intend to, she said in a voice full of authority and decision, "I have chosen the ladies Vieana, Averyll, and Elen."

Now Adrama did turn to her mother. Disbelief and anger was written all over her face, and she spoke no words for a few moments. Then she let a torrent of words fly from her lips, all of them spoken without thought and deliberation, the names bringing back in full force the anger she had felt on a previous occasion. "You surely are not inviting them?" she cried. "Mother, I begin to reconsider my decision to help you at this luncheon. Those three ladies bring nothing but anger to my heart, and I would not face them again in a manner of friendliness, for all kind thoughts and feelings towards them have been banished from my mind. You ask me to work with them, who I consider beyond any doubt enemies of mine, and I say to you it is impossible, and I will not do it, not even for you, Mother. They have wronged our family terribly, they and the Lady Tessa, and even now their words come back to me as they mocked you so cruelly-"

Here she was cut short by the sharp words of her mother. "Be silent, please, Adrama! You speak of them wronging our family and mocking me? From whence did this mad idea come?"

Adrama was taken by surprise and fell silent for a moment. It seemed impossible that her mother had not been aware of the ladies' attitude at their previous meeting. "It was everywhere, Mother. When you were not looking they laughed at you, and their opinions of you were low, their thoughts clearly expressed this."

"And how was it that you could read their thoughts?"

"Their eyes showed clearly..."

"There was no mockery on their part, Adrama," Pelien said firmly. "You must have been quite confused. All that I saw was love for the Lady Finduilas, which you certainly have none of."

Adrama refrained from speaking aloud her thoughts (being that her mother could say so much for herself) and straightened herself up. Her young, beautiful face grew stubborn and she shook her head. "Think what you will, Mother, but it will not change my mind. I have told you that I will not attend the luncheon if those ladies are to, and I will not." A reply from Pelien was halted as Adrama held up her hand and continued. "Don't try to order me, Mother. I my still by your daughter, but I am not your child. It has been many years since I was a child. I can decide for myself, and I choose not to go."

"If you are not a child, Adrama, than do not speak and think as a child," Pelien retorted, her voice sharp and cutting. She stood, indecisive for a moment, then her voice became gentler and her manner kindlier. "My dear girl, you may not be a child, but to me you are still one. I remember the laughing little girl who was so innocent and so unworried. And as I look at you now I sorrow, for you look as though you are much older. What worries and pains have come upon you?" She sighed sadly, then she took both her daughter's hands in her own. "I assure you, Adrama, there were no ill thoughts, ill words, or ill actions on the part of the ladies of Dol Amroth when we last met them. Perhaps they were not sure what to think. They had heard of the ghastly rumors against Finduilas, and is it not likely that they would think it was our family, in particular me, who had started them? I do not know what they thought, but I know they thought nothing against us.

"I ask you now to go to them in all manner of kindliness and loyalty and help unmask the traitor. I am sure if you will but speak to them and watch them you will see that there are no poisonous thoughts in their minds. And if you will not go to them as a friend, then go to them in forgiveness for the wrongs you believe they have done you, and as one loyal to your Steward and land. You may not be a child, Adrama, but you are not old yet, and I am growing old. I know things that you will not know until you are older. And I know this... the ladies of Dol Amroth are our allies and friends, and there is no reason to make them think otherwise."

Adrama thought on these words for awhile, then she kissed her mother's cheek, smiling at her. "I'll do as you ask, Mother," she said. "But whether as a friend or as one enduring all trials to save her land, I do not yet know. That rests entirely in the hands of the ladies with whom I will meet with."

"Thank you," said Pelien. "And if there's anything you would like to say to the ladies, then I insist that you call them aside for a few moments and do so. I'm sure the young men will not object to the young ladies speaking amongst themselves for awhile." And with those final words, Pelien released her daughter's hands and departed from the room.

Adrama remained awhile longer, thinking of what was to come. Now that her mother had revealed such deep thoughts to her, she did not know what to think. Where was her mother's pride? But perhaps it was that pride was not only a good thing. Adrama wanted to go to the ladies as a friend, but memories were making it hard. Her mother said that she had been tricking herself, that there had been no mockery and ill feelings from the ladies, but Adrama could not convince herself that this was so. Yet perhaps she would call the three of them aside for a few moments to ask their forgiveness and friendship.

She groaned and placed her head against the wall, dread building up in her. Things were becoming so clear. But if the ladies did not act in the kind manner that Adrama was preparing to act towards them, if they did not show themselves to be friends of the family and not enemies, then what would happen to all the decisions that had come to her. She would not be able to take it. It would be too much.

"Oh, Vieana, Averyll, Elen," she murmured, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Please, I beg you, do not let me down. Addruran, I'll need you to comfort me if they do. But you won't, will you, ladies?" If her mother had been there she might have been seriously alarmed at seeing the girl talking to people who were not there. But perhaps she would have understood if she had seen the weariness of mind and body that had taken her daughter, the great need for help, the sorrows of her realization of Alethea. But she did not see her daughter then. It was only afterwards when she went to look for her that she found her curled up on a chair, her dark hair running tangled down her back, her eyelashes resting on her pale cheeks where the trace of a tear still remained, and her eyes closed in peaceful slumber. The mother smiled fondly at her for a moment, then closed the door at let her daughter continue to dream.

[ September 17, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

alaklondewen

09-18-2003, 06:07 PM

Pelien returned to her room after checking on Adrama one last time. Her lovely daughter had dozed off in a chair in the parlor. The girl’s face exuded the innocence of her youth. How Pelien missed those days when Adrama was a little girl and life seemed simpler.

Sighing deeply, Pelien sat down at her roll-top desk in the corner of her bedroom. The rolling sound of the top thundered in the complete silence of the room. The contents of the desk were neatly organized on two small shelves along the back. It was from the lowest of these shelves that Pelien selected three pieces of parchment. Then, she pulled a stamp from the top drawer, and after pressing it generously into a soft pink pad, she carefully decorated the heading of each paper with a rose. Minutes passed before she picked up the quill to write, but finally she dipped the pen and wrote three identical letters in her elegant handwriting. The only difference seen was the name on the address line…one was addressed to Lady Averyll, the next to Lady Elen, and the third to the Lady Vieana.

Pelien hoped the ladies would accept her invitation to the luncheon. She knew now they only came to her before because of the love they had for Princess Finduilas, and she felt they deserved to be a part of this operation.

Pelien quickly folded the letters and wrote the name of each of the ladies on the appropriate paper. Then, she pulled out four more parchments and jotted down similar invitations for the young men and Addruran. Using the smaller letter from the Steward, Pelien copied the names of the young men on each page and then folded and sealed them.

She would have Rummel deliver these immediately, so Pelien hurried down to the kitchen where the servant would be preparing lunch. Rummel was given instructions to deliver the messages immediately and not to stop anywhere on the way. Pelien also informed her of the luncheon in two days and that she would have a list for the market ready when Rummel returned. With a curtsey the servant grabbed her shawl and slipped out the back door letters in hand.

[ September 19, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Everdawn

09-19-2003, 05:40 AM

Vieana sat drumming her fingers on the bureau in the sitting room. Averyll had returned home while she had been writing her findings in her own diary, no words had passed between the two all morning as they were both wrapped in their thoughts., and Elen still seemed to be out, attending somewhere with Tessa.

She had reviewed the past days findings in her mind. It was indeed strange the situation she had found herself in here in Minas Tirith. Vieana had come now partly becuase Finduilas requested her to but also to gain some training at the great medical schools which she had so far failed to inquire about. She was severly doubting that she wanted to be a fully practising medic, and while Dardanir had encouraged it Vieana had wanted it more than anything in the world.

She had hardly guessed that she would be playing spy for the Steward. Just then Lessawen came scurring into the room, in her little cane basket were three letters. "Come now, what news?" Vieana asked in wonder at the three envelopes. "I dont know Lady, but there is one each for yourself, Lady Averyll and Lady Elen."

"Thankyou" she mumrered reaching for the letter opener. Her eyes ran rapidly asross the letter several times before she hurried with it quickly to Averyll who was still in her room. "Averyll" she said as she tapped on the door.

"Come in" she said and so Vieana did. "A letter!, one came for you as well, though i can only assume that it says the same thing. Anyway, its form Lady Pelien. Can you believe it! A luncheon, two days." She paused while Averyll opened her letter in turn and took the time to read. Vieana sat herself down on a princess lounge in the corner of the room. Averyll got to one part of the letter and her eyes widened. "Yes, see who is coming, the rude man from the Sorting house." Vieana said angrily.

"He was so very rude, and i was very sweet to him, to all of them it was very funny. Well, what do you think?" she asked waiting for Averyll's opinion of the letter.

Ealasaide

09-19-2003, 08:23 AM

"Well, what do you think?" asked Vieana as Averyll finished reading her invitation to the luncheon at the home of Lady Pelien.

"I hardly know what to think," answered Averyll, lowering the letter. "Your rude man from the sorting house is going to be there, as is my arrogant man from the docks. It was almost as though he thought himself too good to speak with me." She laughed suddenly. "I can just imagine what his face will look like when he sees me at the luncheon."

Vieana smiled weakly. "You can't think Lady Pelien invited us just to get back at us for our rumor campaign... could you? I mean, how would she know we spoke to these men ..."

"No!" Averyll shook her head. "No. She would have no way of knowing. Maybe she feels as badly as we do about how things went the last time we came to visit and wants to give us another chance. At least, that's what I am hoping. The fact that the other guests are the fellows who handled the steward's mail tells me that something else is afoot, but I honestly believe it has little to do with us."

Vieana leaned toward Averyll from her perch on the edge of the princess lounge. "How can you say that? It seems to have everything to do with us. You have to admit that it's far too much of a coincidence that we should have spoken to the steward of these men only to find ourselves invited to a luncheon almost immediately where we will be expected to entertain these same three men."

Averyll sighed and gave the letter another long look. "You know, you are right. But I still think the fact that those particular gentlemen are going to be there has everything to do with us, but the fact that we are invited to be there, too, has nothing to do with them. Does that make any sense?"

"None at all!" Vieana laughed. "But I trust you know what you are talking about."

"I think I do."

"So, what do we do?"

"We go and we behave as perfect ladies and hostesses, and let whatever is to happen unfold around us."

"And then?" asked Vieana.

Averyll shrugged and gave her friend a hopeful smile. "Then we see what happens."

[ September 21, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

Child of the 7th Age

09-19-2003, 12:01 PM

The garrison was quiet that afternoon as Eckthelion sat waiting for Addruran to make his appearance. A number of the guards had departed earlier that day in small groups of twos and threes to search the surrounding countryside. There'd been several rumors of an attack by Orcs on innocent travellers. With that possible threat, the Steward had felt compelled to send out patrols to check on the safety of the roads, especially those that lie to the east in the foothills of the mountains.

Yet his present concerns lay closer to home. He needed to speak with Addruran and let him know what his assignment would be. There was a firm knock; then the door swung open and a young man came striding into the room.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Addruran respectfully nodded his head.

The Steward beckoned the guard to come inside the office, "Yes, I need you to do some work for me. This is a matter of great importance, and I must warn you to keep everything I say here in confidence. The safety of Gondor may depend on it. Come, sit down. We must talk."

For the next half hour, the two men exchanged confidences, with Eckthelion spelling out his intentions. The Steward outlined the events of the past two days for Addruran and revealed some of the information he'd gleaned as well as his plans for a luncheon at Lady Pelien's house. "And this," he added, glancing up at the guard's surprised face, "is where you come in. We must attempt to set up a situation to uncover whoever is responsible for the mishandling of these dispatches. It must be one of these three men. You will be sent an invitation to the gathering, but you will actually be acting as my agent."

"Before the party starts, I want at least twelve guards brought to the house, hidden in strategic spots in the garden and the rooms that adjoin those where the party is being held. Also hide two soldiers in the closet in the same room where the guards will be asked to lay down their cloaks and weapons for the duration of the party. You will leave this dispatch in clear sight of anyone who might walk in. Set your own cloak down first, and leave the scroll on top of it, as if you intended to deliver it after the party."

The Steward reflected a minute and then added, "In fact, let it be known to your companions at lunch that after departing from Lady Pelien's household, you will be riding down to the ships to entrust this to one of the captains. Brag a bit, if you like."

Eckthelion handed the young man what looked like an official dispatch that was being sent to Thorongil. "Here it is. Guard it with care."

"Excuse me, sir, but what does this thing say, if it is permitted to ask such a question?"

The Steward sat back and laughed, "A more prudent man would not have brought such a query to me, but you are at least honest and deserve an answer." Eckthelion hesitated and replied, "It is a letter instructing Thorongil to attack the Corsair ships, as he has so often begged me to do."

Addruran's face blanched as he took in the meaning of this message. "Sir,..."

"No, you misunderstand me. Perhaps we will come to this point someday, but we are not there yet. This document is a fake, a forgery that I intend to use to ferret out a traitor. If a man is innocent, he will leave the message alone, but if he is guilty...." The Steward's voice drifted off.

"He must open the message and memorize it, as he can not risk taking it with him. Then he will come back to the table and invent some excuse for immediately leaving the party."

"Whoever that is, you are to arrest him and bring him immediately back to the palace. I will be waiting for you."

The conversation between the two men continued for some time, focusing on the various details that would need to be worked out over the next few days. Finally, as Addruran stood up to leave the room, he extended a hand in farewell, "Sir, I will not fail you. I know how much rides on this."

The Steward nodded his head, "I am counting on that, young man, for I have confidence in your good judgment and discretion. I would not otherwise have entrusted such a mission to you. The next time you see me, you will hopefully have our culprit in tow."

With that final exchange, Addruran bowed and left the room.

alaklondewen

09-20-2003, 08:28 PM

As the morning of the luncheon dawned, the morning light streamed through the crack between the thick draperies hanging to the floor from the double doors that opened up to Pelien’s personal balcony. The woman’s face cringed when a ray fell upon her eye, and she turned toward over to face her husband. The couple had made up over the last two days, and Sador knew and understood what had brought Pelien to the point of confronting Finduilas and Denethor. He also knew of what would happen in a few hours at the luncheon.

As soon as she realized what the day was, Pelien’s eyes snapped open, and with a good stretch, she slid her legs over the side of the bed. After a short bath, Pelien chose a simple, yet elegant, navy dress from her armoire, and went downstairs to ensure the house would be to her standards before the arrival of the guests.

Pelien stood over Rummel and her sister, who had been called upon to help cook for the guests, all morning, only stopping for a simple breakfast when Sador and Adrama came down. Everything was coming along nicely, and soon the morning had worn on and the ladies would be arriving any minute. Sure enough, as Pelien stood before her mirror checking that every hair was in place, she heard the door open and voices coming below her. With one last glance at her reflection, Pelien exited her bedroom and met Adrama in the hallway before they both strolled down the stairs to greet their guests.

Three young faces rose to meet their hostesses. All three of the ladies were dress stylishly and Pelien admitted that they did look beautiful.

“Welcome, Ladies. I am glad you’ve come this afternoon. Please, come sit down and let us talk before the men arrive.” Pelien proudly led them across the foyer and into the parlor where she took her place in the high-backed floral chair. As soon as Adrama, and the others were seated, Pelien continued. “I think you should know why I asked you here today.” Leaning forward and looking each of them in eyes, Pelien described to Averyll, Vieana, and Elen the basics of what would happen in the next hour or so. She also explained her reasoning in choosing them. “I know you came to me at our last meeting because of your love for the Lady Finduilas, and at last I understand your motives. Because of the nature of this meeting, I feel you three, in some way, deserve to be a part of righting the wrongs toward your Lady.”

[ September 20, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

Novnarwen

09-21-2003, 03:48 AM

Sador was more than willing to help his wife Pelien with this special luncheon. The two of them had talked, and agreed that none of them were mad at ecah other, Sador was also fully aware why Pelien had 'attacked' Finduilas. Pelien's intentions were good and that was enough for him.

"The ladies have arrived, I can hear them" Pelien told her husband, "So, I'll have to go down and greet them," she added. Sador nodded. "I hope everything will work out fine," he assured her. Pelien squeezed Sador's hand before saying that she thought it would go well, only that she was a bit nervous about the whole idea of guards running about in her house playing.. Pleien didn't get herself to finish before she rushed towards the door. "The guards will also come soon," she added before she walked out of the room. Sador could her her rush down the stairs.

Sador went down the stairs, now wandering in the foyar going in circles. From the parlour he heard thin women voices talking quietly. Ah well, Sador thought. This will be an exciting luncheon, and who knows maybe something unforseen will happen. He shuddered, it was far too unrealistic to be true. A traitor, among them? Rummel opened the door at the same time, the 12 guards and Adduran had arrived.

"Greetings, Adduran." The young man greeted Sador and took his hand firmly. The 12 guards followed doing the exact same thing. Sador smiled.

"Lets get down to business," he said in a calm but eager voice. "Now, come with me." Sador lead them to the cloak room. "As you may see,"Ssador looked at each of the guards. "This is the cloak room, it's the most important place of all today," he announced seeing the seriousness in the guards' eyes. "You two." He pointed at two guards. They were small but strong, exactly what Sador was looking for to have in a small closet.

"I suggest that you two would like the honour of having the best place of all." The two of them looked at each other and nodded. "Very well then, the closet will be your hiding place," he said looking at them and thereafter the closet which stood in a corner.

"In there?" one of them burst out.

"Yes, if you don't mind of course," Sador replied strictly looking at the now tense and nervous guard. The other, pretended as nothing. "I do suggest that you try it out before you're actually going to sit there in perhaps a couple of hours."

None of them said a word, the other ten guards however, had a pleasant time, watching their companiens being afraid to sit in a closet. Sador opened the narrow doors so everyone could see in.

"Nice space, eh?" Sador said, trying to be funny. None of the guards laughed though. "Now come on, what are you waiting for. We don't have that much time. We are already late," he said pushing them in.

Sador smiled, he was happy with the result. "If you need anything then.." Sador had't really thought about that. "Okay, lets just say that I hope you have eaten, and...because you won't be able to do that for the next couple of hours, unless something extremeley odd happens. Anyway try not to cough or sneeze, well don't try, just don't sneeze nor cough. Okay?" He didn't wait for reply before he locked the doors and led the other guards to the next room.

After about 15 more minutes all the guards were placed around in the house and in the garden and all were ready to 'attack' when the signal was given. "Adduran, thank you for coming," Sador said at last after giving the final instructions. Adduran smiled, "The plaseure is on my side." Sador patted the young man at his shoulder:

"Why don't we join the ladies, then?" he asked. Adduran followed.

[ September 21, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Nurumaiel

09-21-2003, 11:00 AM

Addruran did not follow Sador immediately. Taking off his cloak, he put it on a table by the door, and, hiding a grin, pulled the scroll from his belt and placed it on top of the cloak. After making sure it was completely visible, he turned to Adrama's father, but not to follow him. "Sir, I have something that I need to ask you," he said, blushing deeply. "It will only take a moment. I realize the ladies are waiting, but I can't say this in front of them, especially where Adrama might hear."

Sador gave him a kind, fatherly look and, already guessing what the young man wanted to say, dropped his hand from the handle of the door and gestured towards a chair. Addruran shook his head. "No, it won't take that long," he said. Leaning against the wall to steady himself, he looked Sador straight in the eye and spoke clearly. "Sador, I am asking permission to marry your daughter, if she'll have me."

The question was not unexpected. Sador showed no hesitation at all. "You have my permission, and I'm glad," he said, and smiled when he saw Addruran's tenseness ebb away to be replaced by weak relief. "I know Adrama has long been in love with Denethor, or so she thought. Ahem... some people might say that I couldn't understand how she felt because I was a man, but Adrama was always her father's pet and I know her well. I also remember when I was first falling in love with my wife." He smiled fondly for a moment, then continued. "I don't think she was really in love with Denethor, Addruran," he said. "See how already she ceases to care for him. It's because she's realizing the truth. And I believe in her heart, very deep down where she can barely see it, she loves you. But that is coming to light, and soon she'll know."

Addruran grasped the back of a nearby chair and gripped it tightly. Could it be that Adrama loved him? That it wasn't hopeless?

Sador hesitated for a moment, then spoke once more. "I don't know what my wife will think of it. I believe that both wife and daughter are realizing the truth... the daughter loves you and the wife is ready to take you as a son. They just need to fully realize it. But, Addruran, you have my full permission and I cannot think of a finer man for Denethor. I hope I do not cause you any embarrassment by saying this, but not even Denethor would be good enough."

Addruran, though he was still feeling weak, felt loyalty surging up in him. "Denethor is a fine man," he protested.

"He's a great man," Sador replied, chuckling a little, then he fell sober again. "He's just not the one for my Adrama." And Addruran was glad of that.

Meanwhile Adrama had taken the three ladies aside, blushing in shame and looking pleadingly at them. They couldn't understand the reason for her sorrow and fear, but they looked gently at her. A few moments passed, then Adrama decided to make a blunt confession of it. "I've treated you very horribly, and I'm sorry," she said, and her voice showed she truly was sorry.

The ladies were silent for a moment, then Averyll spoke hesitatingly. "I don't understand what you mean," she said. "When did you ever treat us badly? The only time I have spoken with you was the time we met with you and your mother for tea, but I did not notice you treating us badly."

"Perhaps not where you could see me, but I've been telling my mother horrible things about you, and I've been thinking horrible things about you, and..." Then in a rush, Adrama told those three rather startled ladies all her feelings about them since the tea party, and how she had called them cruel and malicious. When she finished, her lips were quivering and her eyes were dim. Vieana, kind and gentle of heart, immediately threw her arm around the girl's trembling shoulders and murmured forgiving words in her ear.

"So.... I'm very sorry," she finished at last, with great effort. The three ladies comforted her and showed such kindness and forgiveness that Adrama felt even worse. Averyll smiled at her and said, "Come, now, I hear your father and the young man Addruran coming. You don't want them to see you've been crying, do you?"

Adrama smiled thankfully at the three of them and went to open the door for the two. She was very startled when she saw Addruran. She had been aware that he would be there, but he strode in regally, looking down his nose at everyone and his eyes arrogant. She had never seen him look that way before. "Addruran...?" she began.

"Good day, Adrama," he said, brushing past her without even a glance at her, and surveying the room. "None of you look very important," he said scornfully.

Adrama was thoroughly shocked, as did the three ladies. She opened her mouth, stammered a few words out, then leaned against the wall for support. What had come over Addruran? What was wrong with him.

"No, indeed, you don't look like you have important papers with you," said Addruran. "Not like me!"

Adrama gaped at him, and the Dol Amroth ladies looked rather uncertainly. It seemed rather clear that, when hearing about Addruran from Pelien and Adrama, they hadn't expected him to be anything like that. "What important papers?" Adrama managed to gasp out at last, trying to keep her confusion hidden.

"Papers from none other than Ecthelion himself," Addruran replied. "Very important papers. About the corsairs, you know. And it gives orders to..." He was interrupted rudely by Adrama grabbing his arm and sharply pulling him aside, her eyes flashing. "What, Adrama?" he cried angrily. "You interrupt me, the bearer of such important papers, so rudely?"

"Addruran, I don't know what has come over you, but will you be quiet. If you are carrying important papers, don't tell everyone what they contain. I know the Dol Amroth ladies are fully trustworthy, but all the same I'm sure Ecthelion would be-"

"Adrama, this is an act," Addruran said, his voice barely a whisper. "Those papers are fake, and they're supposed to be found. I can't tell you more, but a spy..." He trailed off for a moment, then he said, "Just don't interfer, all right? Everyone in this room has to hear that I have important papers with me. And later, when the three men arrive, you'll hear much of the samet thing."

Adrama was silent for a moment, then she gave a barely perceptible nod of her head and let Addruran go. When he had crossed the room again, scornfully looking down his nose at Averyll, who was standing next to him, Adrama spoke up, her voice calm but annoyed. "Be that as it may," she said, as though she were referring to something Addruran had just said to her, "I don't believe you have important papers at all. If you do, why don't you show them to us and prove it?"

"Prove I have important papers that give orders that the corsairs should be attacked?" Addruran laughed. "I would show them to you, Adrama, only I don't have them on me right now. I left them out by the door on top of my cloak, and I don't care to go get them."

"Then I suggest we stop this foolishness about important papers and start the luncheon," Adrama said sharply. "Or shall we at least get ready? The men will be arriving any moment. And, Addruran, for goodness' sake stop looking down your nose at people. Important papers, yes. Important person? No." Inwardly she was laughing so hard that it was extremely difficult to keep her face straight.

"No doubt Ecthelion will give me a high position in his court," Addruran muttered sulkily as he took a seat, shoving Elen out of the way to do so. "After all, they are very important papers and that makes me an important person." And he scowled at Adrama. She looked at Averyll and gave an apologizing smile, though it was really a way to get some of her mirth out.

[ September 25, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Elora

09-22-2003, 07:05 PM

Ruiel cast an incisive gaze over her younger daughter. Alethea seemed unpeterbed by her insolent dawdling in attending to her mother's summons. Displeasure kindled in Ruiels gaze. She was far too tired to contend with this ongoing rebellion from her own flesh and blood, no less! Countless years spent in desperate labour would not be undone by a feckless girl, be that girl her daughter or no!

Ruiel took a calming breath which in no way banked the ire of her gaze and set down her nib upon her desk with deliberate care.

"Sit, Alethea," she said in voice that brooked no argument. Alethea visibly bit down on a comment and proceeded to search out a chair. She noticed Dryea sitting silently before the hearth, garbed in maudlin black and hesitated before taking a seat herself. What her sister had already said, Alethea could only guess, however it was plain that their mother was displeased.

Ruiel rose from her desk and paced on the luxuriant carpet that was spread over the flagstone floor, behind the chairs arrayed before the hearth. Alethea cast a sidelong glance at her older sister, her discomfort rising steadily as her mother allowed the silence to stretch. Only the whispering of her skirts as she paced and the crackle of the fire upon the grate filled the room.

"I learnt of a curious thing upon the evening past," Ruiel said in a deceptively light voice. Alethea held her tongue and the silence stretched again as she gazed stubbornly ahead.

"It came to my attention, amongst other interesting tidbits, you had a disagreement with your sister, Alethea." Again, Ruiel's voice was smooth. It was as though she were blithely commenting on the perfection of a summer's day. Yet, in her office, Alethea felt distant indeed from such warmth and pleasure. She shot another glance at Dryea, speculation on how her sister had painted the disasterous exchange whilst she had her mother's ear running again. It was not fair that her mother was inclined to favour Dryea always first.

Neither was it fair that her mother interrogated her, pacing behind her chair. Alethea swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she began. Ruiel laughed and Alethea fell silent, wishing she had not spoken at all. What had she to be sorry for, indeed? A misspoken word? What was that compared to the stain of an innocent life upon your hands?

"Sorry makes little difference to me. If you think I will squander my time listening to your concocted lies on what was and was not said, then you sorely underestimate the danger we are all in!" Ruiel's voice had sunken to a hiss that twisted over Alethea's shoulder and snaked into her ear. Her mother straightened and walked away from the back of the chair, leaving Alethea with a horrible question. Had it been her sister or her mother that had murdered Rhir?

She cast another glance at Dryea, who sat in the perfect poise of a grieving widow. Ruiel caught the stare and snapped at Alethea.

"Heed me Alethea. Gone are the days where you were coddled. No longer shall you be protected from your duty. Your sister has embraced it, and too long have you dragged your feet in following along your chosen path!"

"Chosen by who?" Alethea gasped, surprised at the heat in her own voice. Her mother, by contrast, was icy silence once more. She did not hear Ruiel this time as her mother drew closer to Alethea's chair.

"Chosen by me, daughter. Gainsay your duty and mayhap I will gainsay the life I gave you!" Alethea's eyes went wide in her pale face. Ruiel's fury blazed from every inch of her regal being. Ice that burnt. Perhaps she knew who the murderer was now. Alethea tightened her grip on the sides of her chair and lowered her eyes.

Ruiel reined back hard on her frayed composure and whirled away. The office was again silent as the women struggled with themselves in very different battles.

"Things could very nearly come undone," Ruiel murmured in a voice that betrayed her underlying sense of impending disaster. If it was to be averted, it would be by a narror margin. The office was filled with a thick tension that seemed to even defeat the life of the fire upon the hearth. It was a cold place, doom in the air.

In a stronger voice, Ruiel continued on down a different path, unwilling to contemplate failure.

"Yet even so, things fall our way still. Alethea, it is time to put your friendship," sarcasm was heavy upon that word as it fell from Ruiel's lips, "with Pelien's daughter to good use. We cannot squander Rhir's timely death." Alethea twisted in her chair, horrified at Ruiel's perfunctory tone of voice. Dryea closed her eyes, keeping her pain to herself. Alethea could not believe her eyes.
Her mother considered Rhir's death a boon.

"You will find your friend and tell her of how grief striken your sister is at the death of the fool boy. Say how incapacitated by sorrow the house is and yet that House Morthaniawen will serve the Steward in seeing the marriage of his son to Finduilias fulfilled."

Alethea blinked in disgusted astonishment.

"But mother... why?" Ruiel turned back to her younger daughter's pale face.

"Because in that alone, duty and sorrow, shall we have such disguise. Who can bear to closely watch such pain. Whilst they avert their eyes, whilst they think us frozen by grief, shall we strike unseen." A fierce smile of pleasure lit Ruiel's features. It was more fearsome than the rage of a moment before.

Alethea gulped, thoughts swirling within her head. Ruiel made for her desk once more, now done with both girls.

"Alethea, see to it that you meet your friend today. I want word spread quickly of Rhir's death and I can think of no better pit of gossiping vipers than Pelien's household.

Dryea, you are to remain here to received any who come with their condolences. I want the lords and ladies of Mians Tirith gulled by nightfall."

Her orders given, she waved both daughters out in patent dismissal. Rannë, who had hovered in a corner throughout the entire exchange, kept her eyes averted and focused on the hem of her skirts. She dared glance up in time to take in the shocked faces of Dryea and Alethea and the auburn hair of their mother who bent back over her correspondence, nib once more in hand. The maid sighed sorrowfully and waited where she was until summonsed once more to do something unsavoury in this sorry business.

Arien

09-23-2003, 11:19 AM

"Alethea, see to it that you meet your friend today. I want word spread quickly of Rhir's death and I can think of no better pit of gossiping vipers than Pelien's household. Dryea, you are to remain here to receive any who come with their condolences. I want the lords and ladies of Minas Tirith gulled by nightfall."

Alethea turned swiftly and headed straight to the door, her mother had angered her a great deal; although she found that she could not argue with her. She could never win a fight with her mother. Her palm pushed the door open and she headed to the garden; she would take a walk and collect her thoughts. Alethea had left without biding farewell, however it was not to be expected; the heat between the three had grown fierce these past days.

And there were lots to be gathered. Either her mother or Dryea had killed Rhir. She desperately tried to think of which one as she swept out on to the garden path; not Dryea surely. She loved him, but one was never sure of what Dryea could do. Her mother would suit the killers profile better; she was ambitious, too ambitious at times but when Alethea thought of it. No her mother couldn’t of.

Ruiel had indeed taken advantage of his death and commanded Alethea to spread the rumours but she was hardly going to do such a thing. And the way he mother talked about Adrama like that! Alethea was not going to use her, she would never dream of doing that. But that trivial meeting seemed to have pushed Alethea to the edge.

She had promised herself if she could find one spark of even some integrity, decency in her family then she would not tell Adrama for all the riches in the world.

Alethea still loved them; but they had gone to the extreme. Her mother and sister showed none of their true warmth that she had yearned for them to reveal, they were as cold as ice and their hearts as solid as granite. She would enlighten Adrama to her predicament and she would see what her reactions would be. Alethea was at a loss of what to do and she dearly hoped that

Adrama might have at least some idea.

Alethea sat down on a bench along the path; the sun shone lightly on her face and warmed her a little. It was cold out side but the chill of the wind was a fire compared to the chill she felt from her mother. The sweet smell of flowers surrounded her, and bright colours danced across the flowerbeds. Chirping birds were busy across the garden and the soft hum of the life outside of the estate could be heard, just.

“Alethea!” Came a voice from the right, she turned round and was greeted by Meirelle.

She was still in her shawl and carried a basket in her hands. She had obviously just returned from her duties.

“Alethea,” she said again coming up to her. Alethea stood and greeted her. “I have sent it, she should get it soon….”

Meirelle paused momentarily looking upon Alethea’s face. “Have you been crying?” She inquired.

Alethea was shocked at what she said, but when she wiped her hand across her cheek damp salty tears met her fingers.

“Why yes I have,” she said solemnly, “Thank you Meirelle.” The girl nodded and made her way back to the manor without any more questions. Alethea was glad at this; she did not feel like answering any.

Alethea returned to her seat and sighed, “So now tears fall with no heed to my wishes, am I so broken, so hurt that this can happen?” she whispered to herself. And she was; she could not believe what was happening. Her whole world was collapsing around her. Her mother treated her a material position to be used when convenient. And all communication with her sister was lost.

Alethea longed to go back to happier days…but what happier days? Was it not true that it had always been this was, just she had never had the sense to argue against the dishonest nature of her kin. She had been too scared of them, too timid and too foolish to admit the ones she loved were wicked.

Her whole life had been wrong, she was forced to do these things; but she had never rebelled against them. Alethea was so frustrated with herself, tears started to flow again with out her knowledge till one fell onto her palm. Alethea unconsciously wiped it away on her dress and stared blankly ahead.

Tears she had shed over her plight, but what of the plight of Gondor if she did not tell someone? And could she even bring herself to tell someone? She hated them; but loved them and her heart could not bring itself to tell anyone. And Alethea hated herself for it.

She was so confused and now the tears blurred her eyes. And the small knife that lay beneath her dress looked incredibly welcoming. She pulled it from its tiny sheath. She had always carried it, but she had never been attacked; or had a chance to use it. Its steely point glimmered gently in the suns brilliance, its sharp edge catching sparkling light. Alethea toyed with knife for a few moments and the grasped it firmly by the handle. She drove it down, down into the wooden bench and released her hand almost instantly as if were on fire.

This was getting beyond horrid, she needed to talk to Adrama.

[ September 23, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

maikafanawen

09-23-2003, 05:23 PM

Dryea left Ruiel's room a little while after Alethea. But unlike her younger sister had, she curtsied politely and looked reservedly triumphant in her mother's direction before leaving. She was quick enough to spy Alethea retreating down a hallway towards an exit. Looking about for a moment, she decided on pursuit and followed her quietly.

Her younger sister led her down a tightly packed dirt garden path that led out into the tame flowers of the courtyard. A little ways down she stopped and sat on a bench. Dryea stayed concealed in the shadows.

The eldest daughter of Morthaniawen was not sure why she had followed. She was suspicious, but she knew that nothing would be revealed to her now. Still, the expressions of a face and simple gestures could tell much more than words ever would.

So she stood in silence and observed Alethea analytically. What was she thinking? What she hiding? Dryea wished she knew. Meirelle approached her at one time, just come from outside the estate walls, and whispered something to her mistress. Then the girl straightened and this time, more loudly, asked if she had been crying. Alethea touched her face and nodded, "Why yes I have, thank you Meirelle." Then the maid left and began to walk up the path towards Dryea. The Morthaniawen in shadows smirked and stepped back further into the dimness until Meirelle passed. Then she abandoned her watch on her sister and followed the second best source of information: her handmaiden.

Just before the girl reached the door to the house Dryea quickened her pace and intercepted her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Excuse me," she turned the startled girl around and faced her authoritatively.

"Yes m'lady?" the maid said, curtsying. Dryea eyed her skeptically, waited for her to rise and somewhat regain her composure before questioning her.

"Did you just speak with the lady Alethea?" she began. Meirelle nodded, eyes averted. "What did she have to say then?" Her tone was tense and commanding. The maid hesitated before answering and when she did her voice was trembling and coy.

"I was inquiring about Lord Isindil's son," she whispered. To complete the act, a single tear slipped quickly down the maid's cheek. Still wounded about Rhir's death herself, Dryea accepted the tale and dismissed her. The maid was out of sight before Dryea questioned her honesty. It was too late then for Rheaite summoned her to prepare to receive the condolences.

Somewhat restless at the thought of sitting around and looking depressed all day, Dryea reluctantly mounted the steps to her room so that Rheaite might tend to her. She passed a large mirror hanging on the wall in the hallway. The woman stopped and gazed appraisingly at her reflection, pushing back the net that hung over her face suspended from her hat. Her features had suddenly returned to the sultry and devious form they had attained so often before. She grinned.

"My, I do look fine in black." Chuckling malevolently, she entered her room. It was a wicked thing to say at such a time but, after all, Dryea was a wicked woman.

Child of the 7th Age

09-24-2003, 03:56 PM

Alak's post:

Pelien sat motionless in her high-backed chair listening to the sound of the guards in the next room with her husband. When she watched them filing through the door just moments before, the reality and significance of what was happening in her own home left her in an almost dazed state. Thankfully, Adrama had taken the young ladies into another room, so she didn’t have to hide her nervousness. For the first time, Pelien thoroughly contemplated the possibilities of who the spy might be and what would happen if and when he was caught. What if we can’t catch him? I will be a disgrace in the Steward’s eyes. Her long fingers squeezed the arms of the chair until her knuckles were white. She’d never considered what would happen if they were unsuccessful this afternoon, or what if…What if he lashes out violently? If violence occurred she hoped that Sador would stay out of it. Even though she knew he was a fully capable and respectable soldier, he was her love and she didn’t want him in any danger. Pelien let the air she had been unconsciously holding slowly escape through her lips.

Sador and Addruran returned from the garden and while Pelien’s husband paused next to his wife, Addruran, who looked almost giddy to Pelien, instinctively went in search of Adrama. With one eyebrow raised, Pelien looked up at her husband, but Sador’s only reply was a warm, handsome smile and the gentle squeeze of his hand on her shoulder. As soon as Sador offered his hand to help Pelien up from the chair, Rummel appeared in the doorway announcing that the remainder of the guests was currently coming up the walkway. Pelien inhaled deeply and grasped Sador’s still-outstretched hand. Nodding at one another with the same look of encouragement, Sador and Pelien entered the foyer to greet their guests.

Three young men in full uniform crossed the threshold taking their hats off as they entered. Their faces automatically lifted as their eyes wandered over the décor of Sador and Pelien’s home.

“Welcome to our home, Gentlemen. I’m so glad you were able to join us this afternoon.” Pelien stood proud and tall as she smiled amiably at the young men. Adrama, who must have heard her mother’s voice, led the ladies from Dol Amroth into the foyer to meet their companions for the afternoon. “Oh, good, Ladies, I would like you to meet Brigon, Athadan, and Aranarth.” The guards each nodded respectfully as his name was spoken, and the young ladies smiled charmingly batting their eyelashes. “Here we have the Ladies Averyll, Elen, and Vieana.” Each of the ladies offered her hand, and the young men seemed eager to take them. “Sador, would you mind showing the men to the cloak room, so they can lay down their cloaks and weapons?”

“Of course I don't mind, Dear.” Pelien watched as her husband led the guards around the corner to the cloak room. As soon as they were out of sight, she threw Addruran a questioning glance. He nodded answering her without words…the trap had been set.

In just a moment the men returned. “Now let us proceed to the dining room where we may speak more comfortably.” Pelien smiled the gracious smile of an experienced hostess, and after taking her husband’s arm, she led them to the dining table that was lavishly set for the luncheon. The mannerly men remained standing until the women were seated, and Rummel and her sister immediately began pouring wine for all the guests.

*********************************************

Nurumaiel's post:

Addruran had remained fairly silent up till the arrival of the other men, but when they arrived it was clear to Adrama that he was preparing himself to tell them about the papers in some way or another. She decided to help him a little. Standing, she gave a graceful curtsey to the men and said, "Good day, sirs. Please, do sit down. You haven't missed much talk, and the luncheon has not, naturally, begun without you." Sitting down, she smiled at Addruran. "We were just talking about Addruran's new position in Ecthelion's court."
Addruran felt relief come surging over him. Adrama had solved the problem as to how to start speaking about the important papers. Putting a smug look on his face, he nodded.

Brigon grinned rather hesitantly at Addruran. "This is new to me," he said. "What happened that gained you this new position?"

"I am in charge of delivering an important message from Ecthelion," Addruran replied. "I don't have it with me to show you; it's near the door on top of my cloak. But I remember what it says perfectly. It is an order to attack the corsairs, to say it shortly."

"Are you sure Ecthelion won't mind you telling this to us?" Athadan asked.

Addruran, in an attitude of extreme carelessness, said lightly, "Oh, he won't mind."

Adrama choked on a biscuit she had taken from a plate while no one was looking, and Pelien looked at her sternly, reprimanding her for taking the biscuit before they'd begun to eat and threatening to give the plan away at the same time. While Pelien wasn't looking, Adrama stretched out to put the biscuit back, but it slipped from her hand and rolled under the feet of Athadan. She paused for a few moments, then looked up, to find with a shock that Vieana was looking at her. But the lady of Dol Amroth smiled reassuringly at her, and Adrama decided then and there that she would be fast friends with the three ladies from that moment onward.

"-very important, yes," Addruran was saying. "If they should fall into the wrong hands, Ecthelion would surely behead me. However, I know I can trust all of you. That is why I tell you all this. If I thought any of you might be willing to sell that note for much money, or even be a spy for the corsairs, I would not tell you."

"It's very flattering that you put so much trust in us, Addruran," Aranarth said sincerely. "I hope all of us shall live up to your expectations, and I believe that none of us will disappoint you. But all the same, are you sure it is wise to tell everyone this?"

While Addruran made a very weak reply, Adrama crossed Aranarth off her list of suspects. He had really meant what he had just said, and he couldn't be the spy. Of course, if he were as good an actor as he were a spy, things could be different. Brigon had acted a little nervous when he had heard of Addruran's new position, but that was foolishness. He couldn't have known that 'new position' was the result of an 'attack on the corsairs.' Please let the spy be found out soon, Adrama thought. And don't let be Addruran be hurt when they're surrounding him. Please, don't let Addruran be hurt. She had suddenly realized how dangerous it was for Addruran to be hunting this spy. If the latter was armed, Addruran could be hurt. He was very brave...

Something flickered inside of her, but she drove it away. That was foolishness, and it couldn't be true.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Manardariel

09-28-2003, 06:21 AM

Midnight moon. Lady´s eyelash. Finduilas deeply enhaled the scent of the roses, naming each one as she leant down, beathing in. She had always loved roses, their deep smell, their intense beauty. Battlefield blood; Morning Glory. Who had named these flowers, who had given these divine descriptions. And who remeberes them now? She bent down, picking off a dying bloom. Carefully she put into her hand, stepping away from the flower beds. Then she took a deep breath. And blew. The pettles were immeadiatly grabbed by a gust of wind, speading out in all four corners of the world. As a child, she would have made a wish now. But where had her wishes brought her? Where in this cold world was there room for her wishes?

Someone lightly tapped her on the shoulder. She swung round.
“Oh, Denethor, it´s you!”
He smiled at her, his deep, sensitive eyes full of affection. “Hello, my dear. I´m sorry I didn´t see you earlier this morning. I was rather busy, you see?” She smiled back at him. He was such a gentle soul, and he would make such a good husband- indeed, such a gentle lover. She leaned against him. Finduilas was not very tall, and now Denethor seemed like a pillar of strength she could lean against- against all odds. A deep sigh escaped her. “What is it, my love?” Denethor gently touched her chin. “Are you ill?”

“No,” she said vaguely. “No, no, I´m fine.” He gently turned her around, looked her straight in the eye.
“Pelien?”

She nodded slowly. “I don´t understand, it´s so outrageous. How can she hate me so much, I -” She stopped. Denethor had layed his fingers on her lips. She closed her eyes, felt his arms around her waist, his shoulders on her cheeks, and then- his lips on hers.
They kissed. Long, gently, passionatly. After an eternity, they broke apart. Caressing her cheek, he murmered into her ear: “Don´t listen to them. They know nothing of you, but they don´t hate you.....” Tears of love and gratitude spilled on Finduilas´ cheeks, on her beloved´s shoulders.

Without speaking a word, Denethor took her hand. He lead her out of the garden, through the citadel, into the stables. Gently, he helped her onto his horse, got on behind her. They rode out of the city. Finduilas let out a delighted squeel as the mare galloped out at full spead. Denethor´s hands held her tight. The woind played with her hair. Oh Eru, she thought. Just look at us. Words are so silly. Just look into my heart. They rode along Mindolluin, and reached a small grove of trees. As sweet smell of blossom, of summer lingered in air. A bird burst into song. Lightly, full of elegance Denethor dismounted the horse, then helped her off. She tripped, stumbled, fell into his arms. He too lost his balance and they rolled along the floor, laughing like children, blissfully happy. They kissed some more, then sat down, talking. Laughing. Being silly, and childish. Or just in love.
“Catch me!” she called out, running off. He followed her, grabbing her tight. Holding her.

“I´ve caught you.” He wispered. “And I´m never, ever going to let you go.”

[ September 29, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

*Varda*

09-28-2003, 07:31 AM

The past few days had been filled with such strange events. The look on Pelien's face - the realisation that Finduilas really was who she appeared to be. Then - the news that Rhircyn had died that morning. A strange death, dying so silently in the dead of night.

Elena had not been to see Dryea since she had heard of this. How must she be feeling? The atmosphere around the courts was odd - there seemed to be more whispers, more secrets than ever before. Elena had no idea what any of this was about, not having seen any of her friends since the masquerade ball, and not having Dryea to depend on to get her information

Feeling terrible for not having seen her dear friend after these tragic events, Elena donned her cloak and left her rooms, heading for the Morthaniawen estate. And maybe, just maybe, Dryea would have some answers to these mysterious secrets that seemed to be hovering in the air, if she felt able to talk.

Arriving at the Morthaniawen's, Elena knocked on the door, waiting for a maid to answer.

piosenniel

09-28-2003, 03:07 PM

Pio's post

Prior to the luncheon . . .

He had been daydreaming of her as he sat at the desk, his pen poised over the sheet of blank vellum.

For all intents and purposes Athadan appeared the careful courier, noting in his daily log the number of posts he had delivered: from which ship he had received them, to whom they had gone and from whom they had been sent, all indexed in a neat manner under the day and date. The only glaring error, had anyone looked closely or followed up on the notations in this required routine, being that often letters or messages ‘disappeared’ only to be delivered much later than the date on which he had received them. All such omitted entries were discreetly ‘fixed’ by him to appear that nothing was amiss in the normal rhythm of the system.

Today, though, it didn’t matter. There had been no ‘items of interest’ as she and her mother had termed them. Nothing that needed ‘special handling’. Just the ordinary ebb and flow of message and response, waiting to be dutifully noted on the blank page for this day.

Instead the pen, almost as if of its own accord, drew bold strokes on the paper. Long, strokes cascading down from the finely drawn features of her face – her amber red hair, he imagined, his finger pressing lightly on the went ink to smudge in the deep shadows he recalled. And there, looking boldly out of her beautiful face were the blue eyes that had captured him with their daring glances . . . inviting . . . promising . . .

The nib of the pen scratched in a zig-zagged pattern through the pretty portrait he had drawn. Obliterating it for the most part, as he gave a long sigh. He had heard from those who had been present, of the death of Rhircyn. And had felt the power behind the beauty, the Dark Mother, as he thought of her. What had that man done to need being taken from the picture. Had he served his purpose in her . . . their scheme. Or had he had no purpose but was just an obstacle needing to be removed . . .

Promises of favors and monies and position aside, Athadan reminded himself that the only one he could really rely on was himself.

His gaze softened as he regarded her lips. They had escaped the marring of his pen, and he touched them now, softly. How often had he watched her, wanting to pluck a kiss from their bounty . . . His finger tapped lightly on the corner of them. Barely parted they seemed ready to curve into a smile . . . and yet, just hidden in the shadows of them lay the sharp edges of her teeth . . . danger couched in a pretty package . . . he must be careful . . .

The sound of footsteps wrenched him from his self indulgent reverie. He tore the inky page from the book and balled it up in his fist, throwing it carelessly in the wastebasket at the desk’s edge. The steps drew nearer, someone was calling his name. He straightened his tunic and stood up, turning to face the man who sought him.

It was Addruran. Something about a luncheon at Lady Pelien’s. Athadan would be required as part of the escort for the ladies who were to attend. Full dress uniform required.

Athadan made the pretense of checking his duty calendar, then smiled agreeably, saying he would be more than happy to have one of the lovelies on his arm. At Addruran’s questioning look, he added hastily.

‘Within the bounds of decorum and duty, of course . . .’
___________________________________________

At the luncheon . . .

Athadan was careful to keep a pleasantly neutral face as the conversation turned to news of Addruran’s impending promotion. The man was an insipid fool! he thought to himself. And that Adrama, she was no prize in his book. Once his family rose to their proper position, he would love to see her and her precious Addruran squirm under his boot heel.

He held himself in check as Addruran bragged on about Ecthelion’s note he was to deliver. So . . . that was the packet he had seen on Addruran’s cloak in the cloakroom . . . Resisting the urge to leave the table for a look at them, he sat back in his chair and nodded approvingly at Addruran, a smile of congratulation pasted on his face. ‘Well done, Addruran,’ he said in a pleasant voice. ‘I can scarce think of a better man to have the ear and gracious nod of the Steward. This is indeed a fortunate coup for you. Congratulations.’

It was well into the second course and what seemed like an unending exchange of pleasantries with his dining partners on each side when he thought of how he might excuse himself from the meal for a few moments to take a close look at Addruran’s supposed important note and confirm it for himself. The appetizer was done; the cold, fruited soup cleared away; the salad of crisp greens laid on the plate before him.

He sat back in his chair, and rubbed his temples with his fingers for a moment. Adrama had just picked up her salad fork as he leaned near her, a pained expression on his face.

‘If you will excuse me, for just a moment, m’Lady,’ he spoke in a low voice. ‘I am subject to dreadful headaches this time of year.’ She murmured some sympathetic words. He continued on. ‘The herbalist has given me a packet of powder to quiet them, and I’ve left it in my cloak. Please allow me to go take it, and I will be able then to enjoy the rest of this most pleasant meal.’

She dismissed him, making his excuses to the rest of the company. Telling him to hurry back. He took a glass of water with him and made for the cloakroom, noting with curiosity, the eyes that trailed after him.

Once in the cloakroom, Athadan assessed the area. No one was about, or so it appeared. And there on the cloak lay the tempting dispatch. The room was quiet, and close. No breath of air moved in it. Like an offering left to some god the letter beckoned him.

He reached out his hand toward it, when something caught his attention. A scuffling sound from behind one of the closed, latticed doors that opened into a closet he supposed, or a small storage room. Athadan moved his outstretched hand to his own cloak and reached into the pocket of it, pulling out a small twist of paper. He made a show of emptying the contents into his glass and stirring it quickly with his finger. Never mind it was only the leavings of some crumbly sweet he had jammed in there several days ago.

He drank the concoction slowly, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand, complaining loudly about his headache . . . and wasn’t it unfortunate that it should happen now in the middle of this pleasant party. ‘This room is so close,’ he complained, draining the liquid in a last gulp. He walked to the small window on the outside wall of the cloakroom and threw open the shutters, leaning out to breathe in the clean, cool air.

‘Ah, that will do,’ he said after a few moments. Athadan turned back toward the door and walked quickly back toward the dining room. Leaving his now empty glass in the hands of a passing servant. He smiled and nodded at Adrama and resumed his seat at the table, falling easily into the inane babble of polite conversation.

_____________________________

The luncheon concludes . .

‘Shall we walk in the gardens for a while,’ he heard one of the ladies say. His eyes brightened at the opportunity and he murmured how pleasant that would be. ‘I have heard the grounds are lovely,’ he said, in agreement.

The party rose, and he offered his arm to the lady on his left. ‘Shall I get your cloak for you, m’Lady,’ he asked, a note of concern for her in his voice. She smiled prettily at him and told him which one it was, saying she would wait for him with the others. He hurried off.

Athadan had been thinking hard during the last of the insufferably long meal, wondering if this was some sort of trap laid to catch him. Still, they had seemed sincere enough in their talk about the message. And Addruran, that bragging pomp, had appeared his usual self-important self in talking about it. ‘I have to see for myself,’ he thought to himself. ‘If it is at all true, then this could be my hour to claim what is mine and my family’s.’

He entered the cloak room and made the pretense of looking about for the lady’s cloak. The window was still open he noted, and he moved nearer it as he picked up her wrap. His free hand snaked out in a quick move, snatched up the letter, and stuffed it in the band of his breeches.

The two guards hidden in the closets of the room burst out at him.

At the one nearest him, he threw the cloak, entangling the man’s head and arms in it, slowing him down. The second man did not fare as well. Athadan drew his knife from his boot and threw it at the guard, hitting him in the arm. Then, picking up his sword laid neatly near his own cloak, he hit the man hard with the flat of the blade on the side of the head, bringing him to his knees.

The first guard had recovered by then and dove for him, his blade meaning to lay him low. Athadan swung hard at him, beating him back; then made the quick, short dash to the window and landing hard on his feet in the dirt below, went running for the exit to the grounds . . .

[ September 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Everdawn

09-28-2003, 10:42 PM

Vieana had taken more pride in their appearance that morning than usual. Partly a side of Vieana wanted to show up Lady Pelien for being so cruel to Finduilas, and partly because she wanted to see how sweet she had to be before the man Brigon would be civil to her. Or at least notice the charm that the sister of her house were known for (besides their notorious practices of spreading tales) as they were in the same, carbon copies of each other with slight variations.

Vieana thought herself lucky, both Elen and Averyll had rejected the maid Lessawen's offer of dressing them that day, which Vieana happily snapped up. After two and a half hours, with their combined effort of Lessawen and herself, they had produced a rather stunning version of the Lady Vieana. Her hair was waved and put up and held in by a silver circlet depicting the Swan of Dol Amroth. And her gown was of light blue.

Vieana emerged from her room down the stairs to the sitting room to find that Averyll and Elen were very skilled and looked equally as impressive. "Well, the show must go on!" Vieana cried as she saw them. "Indeed" agreed Averyll pulling form the cupboard a light bonnet. "I think we will be late if we wait any longer!" Elen fussed when she saw the carriage waiting.

Pelien met them at her dor, and to Vieana's surprise, she was very kind.
Curiouser and curiouser. she spoke to herself as Pelien told them of what they were invited for.

“I thought as much!” Vieana exclaimed to her two companions. It was at that moment that they were met by the men. Brigon looked in surprise at her. And Vieana smiled (not willingly). She held her head high and said nothing. She was forced to sit across form him at lunch, and while she did her best to ignore him she spoke mostly to Adrama. Vieana had realised that she had quite misunderstood this girl, And she hoped that there would be new friendships there, she had wanted to make new friends while in Minas Tirith but had been unable to due to Finduilas. “You see, My husband had not wanted me to come here for so long at least, I came to study medicine. My husband’s father the General, thought it was a grand idea, so poor Dardanir lost out. And it was ever so lucky for me that Finduilas was betrothed at such a convenient time for me, so I came with her. Its true I have been met with some horrible people” she paused looking at Brigon. “Mostly it has been fine.”

Later Averyll suggested that the all take a walk in the garden. Smart little vixen, I wonder what she is playing at? She must be killing herself inside. He really doesn’t seem that bad, at least I don’t think so. She smiled on the outside. He then offered to find Averyll’s cloak. Vieana had tuned out to most of the conversation as she walked beside Elen and Adrama. Adrama really was like the Dol Amroth women. Vieana’s gaze moved to beyond the courtyard. “Look at that view!” she exclaimed walking over for a closer look. She must have stood there longer than she had thought because a minute later there was frenzied shouting from the house. She spun around in time to see Athadan land from a nearby window. Her jaw dropped. “So it was him!” she said as Athadan ran straight past her. Do something! she told herself. There were now guards covering all the grounds. “There he goes!” she called to them. “Go back inside lady where it is safe!” one called to her. And so she did.

[ September 29, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

Nurumaiel

09-29-2003, 12:45 PM

As Athadan ran past the ladies, Adrama, who had been standing in his path, explaining Addruran's conduct to her new friends, was shoved aside and knocked over. Elen was quicker than Adrama's fall, though, and caught her as she fell. Adrama stood up straight and murmured some words of thanks. From the door of their house the guards from inside were running out. Addruran jumped out the window, taking the same path as Athadan. He did not pause as he passed the ladies, but they heard him say as he passed, "I apologize about the rude exit."

Vieana couldn't resist a smile at that, and she turned to Adrama, saying, "All your words couldn't explain that he was acting before as well as that one sentence." But then her smile faded as she saw Adrama's face. It was deathly pale, and if it hadn't been for Elen, whose hands were still on Adrama's arms, the girl would have fallen. "Adrama, what's wrong?" Vieana asked, concern on her face and in her voice.

Adrama spoke without any emotion, staring off into the distance as if she were far away. "The spy was armed," she said.

Lady Averyll immediately saw what was wrong. Taking Adrama's hand, she clasped it warmly and reassuringly. "Don't worry, Adrama. Addruran will be all right. He's brave and he has a lot of sense."

Adrama looked as though she hadn't heard. Elen gave the other two ladies a look, and they led the girl inside.

Addruran raced after Athadan, taking careful note that the latter had a sword and would be obliged to use it. He knew that the spy didn't stand a chance of escaping. Due to the careful planning, the house was completely surrounded by Minas Tirith guards, and it was only a matter of them closing in. But what Athadan would do when he saw he was trapped, Addruran did not know. It would be dangerous. And he was armed only with a small dagger, for at the unexpected and crazy escape of the spy, he had had no time to retrieve his weapon.

"Close in!" he called, waving his hand. Gesturing to the guards behind him, he had them form the back of the circle. Athadan stopped his mad run when he saw the guards emerging from their hiding places in front of him, and turned slowly in a circle. A cornered animal is dangerous, but a cornered man can be just as dangerous. Addruran was now within a few feet of Athadan, and he did not see the latter's hand grip his sword tighter.

Addruran paused where he was, taking in the matter with careful consideration, while keeping Athadan within his vision. However, he was not expecting the spy to suddenly rush at him, and though he sprang back, the sword of the enemy grazed his arm. His dodge had caused him to lose his balance, and he fell backwards to the ground. Two of the guards in the circle had already broken forward and were running towards Athadan. The spy attempted to stab Addruran through where he lay, but the young man rolled aside and then dived forward, catching Athadan around the knees and bringing him to the ground. Then, jumping up, he kicked the sword from him and stood back as the guards took the matter into their own hands. "Thank you," Addruran said with a little nod to the guards who had rescued him. "We should take him to Ecthelion now."

"But, sir, you're wounded. You should go back to the house."

Addruran looked at his arm and shook his head. "No, I'll go with you," he said. "It isn't a bad wound. Fortunately I had the time to jump back, otherwise I could be dead. But this won't keep me from going to Ecthelion."

"Yes, it will," Sador, who had come up behind them, said in a firm voice. "It may not be bad at the present, but if you just let it bleed things will get worse." He saw an annoyed expression come onto Addruran's face, and he smiled. "Besides, I think you'll find Adrama is anxiously waiting for you."

Addruran's eyes lit up. "Ah yes, I forgot that I had something to ask her about."

Sador grinned and, taking Addruran's arm, led him back to the house. When they entered the parlor, Adrama sprang up from her chair with a cry and stepped forward. "Oh, Addruran, you're safe," she said. "But, what's this?" She stared at his arm. "Athadan hit you?" She looked at him inquiringly.

"No, I tripped on a stone and fell on a sword lying on the ground," he replied with a faint smile. Realizing how foolish her question had been, she smiled back and led him over to the couch. She sat back on a chair opposite him, gazing at the wound. "I don't know how bad it is," she said with a helpless sigh. "So I don't know what to do."

"It isn't bad," Vieana said, advancing forward. "As long as we do something about it and he doesn't lose too much blood, he'll be perfectly all right."

"But I don't know what to do."

Vieana smiled slyly. "I'll see if I can help," she said, a prompting tone in her voice. Adrama stared at her for a few minutes, then a wide smile came to her voice. "I came here to study medicine and I might not be an 'expert' yet," Vieana said, "but I think I can handle this little scratch well enough. It seems like anyone should," she added with a glance at Adrama. "I suppose you've never seen anyone wounded before, since you seem so helpless."

"Well, I suppose I've seen people wounded," Adrama replied. "But I've never had to do anything about it."

So Vieana tended to Addruran's wound while he related to everyone present in the room, who had not seen the capture of Athadan, what had happened. Adrama was moved by his bravery but couldn't help chiding him for putting himself in such danger. After all, she told him, if the guards were closing in on Athadan there was no need for Addruran to run right up to him.

When had had finished telling the story, he turned a deep shade of red and averted his eyes from Adrama's face. "Adrama... If I may, would you allow me to talk to you later after the guests leave?" he asked. "I have something important to... tell you."

"Ask, not tell," Sador grumbled to himself, and left the room.

Novnarwen

09-29-2003, 01:33 PM

"No, I'll go with you," Addruran said, "It isn't a bad wound. Fortunately I had the time to jump back, otherwise I could be dead. But this won't keep me from going to Ecthelion." he continued.

"Oh, yes, it will," Sador assured him. Sador hadn't been able to follow the whole episode, however, as long as the spy was under arrest Sador was happy. "It may not be bad at the present, but if you just let it bleed things will get worse." Addruran grew annoyed by this statement coming from Sador, but understood when Sador mentioned Adrama; and her being worried.

"Ah yes, I forgot that I had something to ask her about." Addruran said while making big eyes. "Come," Sador said leading the young man back and into the house.

Adrama sprang at once towards them. It was obvious that she was worried. She gave a cry: "Oh, Addruran, you're safe." she paused. "But, what's this?" She looked at Addruran's wounded arm. "Athadan hit you?"

Addruran explained to her how he had tripped over a stone and how he had fallen over a sword laying on the ground. Adrama wasn't sure what to do with the wound and did express herself in that way.

"It isn't bad," One of the other ladies claimed. Sador believed it was someone named Vieana. "As long as we do something about it and he doesn't lose too much blood, he'll be perfectly all right," the lady continued.

Sador watched while the lady came forwards showing how to treat Addruran's wound.

Addruran was eagerly telling his story to the others in the room, while Adrama was giving faint smiles. She hadn't thought it a good idea for her loved one to run after Athadan, when some guards where doing the same thing. She admired his bravery, though.

Suddenly it came to Addruran's face a sign of joy. "Adrama... If I may, would you allow me to talk to you later after the guests leave?" he asked in a low and gentle voice. "I have something important to... tell you." he added.

Sador grinned. "Ask, not tell," he told Addruran while walking out of the room. Sador grew happy by the thought of Addruran marrying his sweet daughter. In fact, he thought it was a splendid idea. No other man would fit better for his daughter than this young, handsome and polite man. Though, he wondered what his dear wife Pelien would think of this....

Child of the 7th Age

09-29-2003, 01:49 PM

Alaklondewen's post

While her guests were moving out to the gardens, Pelien stayed behind to give Rummel orders about cleaning up and the possibility of wine afterwards, but before she could explain herself thoroughly, voices broke out from the cloak room causing Pelien’s heart to jump into her throat. It’s happening! It’s happening! At first her body was frozen, unknowing what she should do or precautions she should make. Then slowly the hostess, with Rummel at her side, peeked around the dining room doorway. She was unable to see directly into the room from where she stood but the soldier who had been knocked to his knees was in her line of vision. As soon as she heard someone cry that Athadan had leaped from the window, Pelien, relieved he was out of her house, scurried down the hall to aid the kneeling soldier.

As she neared the room, the blood coming from the man’s arm was first seen by Pelien and she gasped. “Oh dear, you’re injured! Let me help you up.” The young man shook his head, saying that he was fine and that it was only a minor cut, and then preceded to get up from his spot on the floor. Shouting was heard coming from outside, and the soldier quickly excused himself and rushed toward the commotion.

Pelien let her eyes fall to where she found the young soldier. A moment later, she cried out…a large smear of blood was on her rug. The color drained from her face as she fell to her knees.

“Rummel, quick! We must get this out before it sets!” Pelien wrung her hands as she waited for Rummel to return. She didn’t want to touch the stain, but she was anxious to have it removed.

Rummel arrived shortly with a bucket of hot water and several rags. As the girl sat over the rug scrubbing, Pelien suddenly remembered what was transpiring around her, and after her moments of insanity, the older woman pick up her skirts and hurried out to the gardens through the kitchen door. When her eyes saw Sador, she sighed a sigh a relief and slowed her step. As long as her husband was uninjured, and her daughter as well, Pelien could accept the rest.

[ October 02, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

09-29-2003, 10:53 PM

Eckthelion paced nervously about the guardroom striding from one window to the next and absentmindedly staring out as he waited for his soldiers to appear with their prisoner in tow. Surely, by now, he should have heard some word of how the luncheon had fared and what had happened to the three gentlemen who'd been invited to Sador and Pelien's house.

This whole thing was not without risk and, on the whole, the Steward preferred to take a safer path, leaving daring rescues and bold attacks to those like Thorongil who seemed to have more heart for it. Still, he'd felt there was very little choice in this matter. Weighing the odds on whether to attack the Corsair fleet in distant Umbar was one thing. Making that same decision in regard to a traitor found in the midst of his own court was quite another.

The Steward's reveries were interrupted by a determined knock on the door as a guard stepped hastily inside, his face flushed and excited, "Sir, they're coming...from across the plaza. A band of twelve guards escorting a single prisoner."

"And the prisoner? What livery does he bear?" The Steward's voice was calm, belying the torrent of emotion that raged underneath.

"Sir..." The guard hesitated and then went on. "He wears the livery of Gondor. The black and silver uniform and an emblem emblazoned with the tree and seven stars."

Eckthelion sighed and winced, refusing to meet the eyes of the guard. With difficulty he asked the second question, "And can you tell who this soldier is?"

The guard nodded and whispered, "Athadan, sir. It's Athadan."

By this time, the escort was marching down the hall with the prisoner safely ensconced in chains. The soldier at the head of the column stepped forward and barked out, "Pernell, here. Reporting on behalf of Captain Addruran."

At this last pronouncement, the Steward glanced up with a startled look as he noted Addruran's absence. Pernell's words of assurance immediately came bounding back, answering Eckthelion's unspoken query, "Oh, no, sir. He's fine. The captain, I mean. His wounds are being tended now, and he should be up and about shortly."

"Good, then," came the brisk response. "Station three of your men outside the door and take the rest back to their barracks. Give them the afternoon off for a job well done."

"And the prisoner?"

"Take off his chains. Then I will deal with him in here."

"But, sir...."

"None of that, now. The man is unarmed. And I have my sword and dagger."

"But the men of Umbar possess tricks of sorcery..."

Eckthelion cut him off abruptly and stared Athadan directly in the eye. "This is no man of Umbar. No practitioner in the dark arts. This is a citizen of Gondor who finds himself on a bleak, unfortunate path."

With that, the guard did as he was bid, leaving Athadan seated in the guardroom and closing the door behind him. Eckthelion stood and walked to the window, staring out across the city. "Your own deed has condemned you. Tell me, what shall I do? What does justice say in such a case?"

There was no answer from the tall young man with black hair and a thick black moustache who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Hearing only silence, Eckthelion continued, "Justice would call for you to go in front of a firing squad of your peers. For you have betrayed them, as much as you have betrayed me and the state that you serve."

"Sir, please, I..."

"No, I already know what you would say. You would tell me that you were misled and that you have no grievance against myself or the people of Gondor."

"But, sir, it is true."

"Indeed, I know it is true. I have found out enough of you and your family to glimpse something of the truth. There was no great evil. No hatred of our people. No love of the Corsairs. Only the little things that get in the way for all of us. A desire for wealth, distinction and power, perhaps also a woman with honeyed lips who promised more with her eyes than ever came to you."

At this last comment, Athedan found his breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The steward quickly retorted, "So my words have found their mark, especially the latter. I am not surprised."

"Well, Athadan. I have a bargain for you. A bargain that can earn you your life again and some small measure of respect, if you agree to my terms. First, you will do as I say so that we may lay a trap to ensnare this lady and her family. For they are vipers that must be wholly obliterated.

Secondly, once you have carried out this ruse, I will make alternate arrangements for your employment. I have a company of soldiers serving on the northern border of Mordor in the shadow of the mountains. These are honest lads who have the hardest task among my soldiers, to stand and watch as the shadow grows ever darker and warn us if an attack should come. You will serve there as they do for a good five years."

"And then?"

"Then you will be free to go and live your own life with no stain upon your head or that of your family."

"You will do this then?"

Athadan greedily shook his head, glad to sign any bargain that would give him his life and, even more, allow him to strike back against the silver-tongued vixen who had put him in this fix.

"My aides will instruct you as to the details and also secure a full list of your contacts." The Steward rose to go, but then stopped and spoke again to the soldier, "One last thing. Just so you never forget. You will be carefully watched from this moment forward. I am not so trustful as that. And if I ever see the slightest reason to suspect you, I will tell your comrades what you have done to betray those with whom you serve. I will not have to execute you. For I have little doubt that they will arrange for your death and in a most unplesant way. But for now, I will simply tell the other guards that a grievous error has been made, and you are innocent. See that I do not have to tell them anything else."

With that, Eckthelion rose and left the room, as the aides came in to question and instruct the prisoner.

[ September 30, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Lyra Greenleaf

09-30-2003, 02:44 PM

Emilia frowned to herself slightly, taking care not to create wrinkles. It was most vexatious that Finduilas had not appeared at the luncheon. It was past time that Emilia should have made herself known to her- best regards, any aid in a foreign city and so on. Finduilas, it would appear, was the future and had to be cultivated. That younger sister of hers was no help whatsoever, a young hoyden. Emilia had felt worn out after a few minutes talk with her. Surely soon she would get her chance.

The best part of the lunch had been the fact that there were plenty of male escorts to go around. Emilia had been in high demand,that was natural. Thenidir had come to pay his respects- perfectly polite on the surface but his lips had lingered on her hand.

Perhaps after all, he would be the best choice? Men like Beren simply bored her. Thenidir had sent her a note asking to accompany her to the next ball, and while he didn't have the position she had hoped for, anything was possible in the future. After all, her part in the Dryea affair would stand her in good stead as regarded influence. Perhaps the steward would support her first child? Especially if it was a son. Life looked bright.

Child of the 7th Age

09-30-2003, 03:17 PM

Save for anyone:

Nurumaiel

09-30-2003, 06:26 PM

Nuru's post

When the Dol Amroth ladies had let, Adrama took Addruran by the sleeve and drew him away from her mother and father, into the garden, where she leaned against a tree and sighed softly, looking at the blossoming flowers of many different colors with a dreamy yet perplexed expression. Addruran stood where he was, surveying her fondly, but he was also concerned. Something was greatly troubling her.

"Addruran, I must talk to you," she said at last, turning her brown eyes to him. "I'm so very confused, and I wish you would help me see the truth."

"What is it that troubles you?" Addruran asked her.

"Finduilas... and Denethor. Addruran, I don't hate Finduilas any longer, and I don't... I don't love Denethor." Her voice broke, and her head sunk so her face could not be seen. There was a silence, then Addruran heard the sound of muffled sobs. He leapt forward and took both her hands and held them without saying a word. A few minutes passed, then her sobs ceased and she looked up at the sky, her face still and peaceful.

"That should not trouble you, Adrama," said Addruran, still holding her hands. "Not your hate of Finduilas being gone. But... it must be hard to realize that your love for a man you always had loved is gone." He spoke those words more stiffly, for the one he loved he still loved, and he was not able to understand her feelings. He did, however, perceive that it must be hard.

Her tear-filled eyes turned from the sky to his face and a soft smile came to her lips. "Oh, Addruran, I don't know what I would do without you. Sometimes I was tired of living, but I kept hope, because I kept thinking of you. You've been my best friend since childhood, and..." She stopped, and looked away. "I suppose," she said, taking her hands from his and stepping back a few steps, "that friendships of that sort can't last forever."

Addruran made no answer, but if the girl could have seen his heart, she would have wished she had never spoken. So then, Sador was not right. Not only was it that she did not love him, but she did not even want him as a friend. And if he could have seen her heart, he would not have given up hope. For she was certain that he would not forgive him for the cruel way she had been treating him the past few months, and she felt lost, and without a care in the world, for she felt all her love was in vain.

"Do you need me anymore?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and friendly. But if he hadn't the control over his emotions, he would have wept then.

"I suppose if you'd like to go, you might," Adrama said, her eyes still averted from his. He turned to go, but suddenly she gave a cry and ran after him, catching his sleeve. He turned, staring at her in confusion, and she burst into tears. However this time he did not try to comfort her. His confusion was too great. Why did she weep?

"Addruran, you want to go," she sobbed, "but how am I ever going to let you?" Then she could speak no further and simply sobbed, still clinging to his sleeve.

Addruran threw away all doubts. He didn't care what she said. He had long wished to say it to her, and he would now, no matter what her answer may be. "Adrama," he said firmly, so firmly that, startled, she checked her sobs with a little gasp. "Adrama, I must go to Ecthelion now, but I will ask you something before I go... will you, someday, even if it is years and years from now, wed me?"

There was a silence, and she stared at him. "But after what I... you.... I don't..." Then she stopped, blushed, and, laughing softly, ducked her head, murmuring, "Yes."

"How soon?"

"As soon as you wish."

He took her hand and kissed it, and as he did so, Pelien came out into the garden. She started when she saw it, but then calmed herself a little, thinking it was very natural for a man to kiss a lady's hand in greeting or parting. Addruran then turned and left, nodding at Pelien as he passed. Adrama stepped up to her mother, with more fear than Addruran had shown. Had her mother heard the words between them?

"Adrama, a letter for you has just arrived," Pelien said, gazing at her daughter curiously. She handed a small, thin letter over. Adrama took it and opened it, reading it quickly. Her eyebrows raised, and she put it in her pocket with a perplexed frown. "What is it?" Pelien asked. "You look concerned, daughter."

"It is a letter from Alethea," Adrama replied. "She says she would like to meet with me again. And from her letter, she sounds very worried about... something." Pelien did not notice the hesitation before the last word Adrama spoke. In truth, Adrama suspected what it was that Alethea was concerned about. "I will go to meet her at once, if you don't mind, Mother."

"No, you may go," said Pelien vaguely, but as Adrama turned to go in, she paused her daughter. "Adrama, I cannot help but ask. What was it that Addruran said to you?"

Adrama paled and hesitated, then, her eyes fiery, she straightened up and said, "He asked me to marry him, Mother, and... and I told him I would."

Alak's post

"He asked me to marry him, Mother, and... and I told him I would.” Adrama stood before her mother with solid determination knowing well that Pelien would not approve of this marriage engagement.

Pelien caught her breath and tried to remain as calm as she could while concealing her shock. How had this happened? Surely, Adrama was not seriously going to marry Addruran. There had been strong chemistry that was visible between the young man and Adrama, but after all of these years of hoping her daughter would marry the future Steward, Pelien didn’t know if she could accept another man as her son-in-law.

“You told him you would marry him without even asking for my consent or at least a hint that this was coming?” Pelien’s voice was full of accusation as she stared into her daughter’s eyes. Adrama should have asked for her mother’s permission in this matter, and anger was rising in Pelien’s chest as she thought about being left out of this delicate process.

“Mother, I am an adult…I do not need your permission to marry Addruran, and for the record, I did not know myself that he was going to propose.” Adrama spoke slowly and softly seeing the resentment in her mother’s face. This was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life, and she didn’t desire to feel the brunt of Pelien’s fury. “I’ve realized I love him, and I intend on marrying him.”

“But Adrama, he’s not good enough for you. You…you’re fit to be the Steward’s wife, why…”

“But you forget, Mother, the Steward already has a wife. He has made his choice, and I have made mine.” Pelien was taken aback by Adrama’s interruption and the seriousness of her tone.

“I see…I still feel that you should reconsider your decision. What if you tell him you need more time to think? Then we can talk about this when emotions are not so…high.” Pelien reached out and touched Adrama’s arm gently. All she wanted was for her daughter to think this marriage through before she jumped into something she’d regret for the rest of her life. Maybe if the girl could be stalled, Pelien could change her mind…make her realize her mistake.

Nuru's post

The words had gone on long enough. Adrama knew her mother was weakening, that her mother was beginning to like the idea, but even so, she was not going to listen to these arguments anymore. "I will marry Addruran, Mother," she said firmly. "I will marry him, whether you give your consent or not." Glancing over her mother's shoulder, Adrama saw that her father, attracted by the loud words, and come to the garden door and was lingering in the background, listening to what was being said.

"Adrama..." Pelien began.

"Addruran is a brave man, as you yourself saw today," Adrama said, not caring that she was interrupting her mother. "He is loyal to his land and is not afraid of losing his life defending it."

Pelien made no answer, and gave Adrama the time she needed. The girl swept past her mother towards the door, yet paused when she came to Sador. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Bless you, my girl. I know you two will be happy together." Tears of gratitude filled Adrama's eyes, and she put her arms around Sador's neck, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Father," she murmured, and then she departed.

As she walked through the streets, her heart was singing, but a shadow was also cast over it. Her joy would be perfect if her mother approved. Adrama knew deep down that her mother did approve of it, but if she could only have her word!

Adrama arrived at the garden and found Alethea standing by the gate, pacing back and forth in nervous anxiety. Adrama hurried forward to greet her. Alethea turned to her, her eyes filled with sorrow, and said, "Adrama, I must talk to you. Things are so horrible!" Her voice dropped lower. "There's something I must tell you."

Adrama took her hand and said in a reassuring voice, "I know what it is, Alethea."

"You know?" Relief and surprise were in Alethea's voice. "Oh, but how could you possibly know? Everything has been planned so carefully, and..."

"You don't need to worry about it," Adrama said crisply. "You're the spy, and that's that. We can't do anything about it now."

Alethea looked shocked. "Oh no, Adrama, that's not it at all!" she cried. Disbelief spread over Adrama's face.

Arien's Post

Alethea hesitated a few moments more, and then she began to speak as the two began to walk through the Gardens.

"I am not the spy, nay. But I did have some work in the treachery. You know about it?" Adrama nodded her head. So if she knew the others did as well. Alethea thought of Dryea snug in false security.

Oh, how she would relish the moment that her sister would fall from grace and her mother with her.

"I," Alethea voice faltered a little but she kept speaking, "I am the spy's sister." She looked across to Adrama. Her face held an expression of shock.

"Dryea, but..." she started.

"Yes it is she. Her poisons have entered your minds and numbed them. No one could ever guess that it was she. Her air of innocence and her sweetness is too good to be true." Alethea stopped and looked to Adrama. If her sister were false would she believe that their friendship was an act too? She looked towards Adrama again for reassurance but her eyes looked ahead.

"But..." started Alethea.

"Yes?"

"You must know that our friendship is not a fake!"

"I would never have thought such a thing; or at least I hope it was not."

"And even though they tried to make me use you, I never did. I could never do it."

Adrama smiled, "Thank you." She spoke softly. Alethea was relived that Adrama believed her. If her only friend would not then Alethea would have been distraught. "But tell me something, Alethea. Why never before have you told me or anyone in fact about your sister's deceitfulness?"

"It was not only Dryea, my mother as well. I loved them; they were my family. I could not do that to them. But with recent goings on I could not bare it anymore. They went even as far as to kill!" Alethea finished exasperatedly.

"To kill?" Asked Adrama shocked, "But who?"

"Rhir," Alethea replied solemnly.

"But Dryea... he?"

"I know, but I do not know which one of them did it."

They talked for a while more and Alethea revealed everything to Adrama about their false life in Gondor and their real heritage. About the plot to shame Finduilas and her arguments with Dryea. Adrama was so understanding and Alethea was shocked to come into contact with such a warm heart; after all the coldness she had received at home.

"But I know not what to do," Alethea finished finally.

Adrama paused, "You must go to someone. Eckthelion perhaps?"

"Yes I will," Alethea said firmly. She could not have faith in the fact that she was going to tell him. But what would happen to her? If Dryea was caught and her mother, surely she would be caught with them. She had been a part of these lies and deceit. And even if she had not controlled it she still had had the power to turn them in. And if she was not punished, then what? She no longer had a family, and could the people of Minas Tirith or even Gondor trust her again?

But she must tell him; it was certainly the right thing to do. After a quick farewell to Adrama she made her way back to the Estate to get ready for the ball.

[ October 02, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[ October 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

09-30-2003, 11:31 PM

Eckthelion looked over at his family and smiled. His two daughters, each with their own personalities and gifts, and the young lady Finduilas who was soon to join their family. He'd already made his private apologies to Siriel for not believing her first warning when she had first observed that something was wrong. It was not a mistake he would make again. He leaned over and hugged her, whispering a few words in her ears. Then he turned to acknowledge Tiriel and the Lady Finduilas.

Denethor walked forward and quietly pulled his father to the side, "It is set up then?"

"Perfectly!" His father observed. "And I expect that, by the end of this evening, many will come and pay their respects to your wife-to-be who have not done so before."

Denethor stiffened and looked as if he was about to object, but then pulled back and remained quiet. Even he realized that there were times when the best thing to do was to accept a change with grace.

The family walked together down the corridor and into the state ballroom, with the footpad announcing their arrival. A number of Gondorians turned and bowed or waved their hands in acknowledgment. The musicians struck up a tune, as Denethor leaned over towards the Steward and whispered, "What shall we do now?"

Eckthelion turned to face him with the look of a gracious hostess. "Please, everything is under control. Carry on as you would normally do. Surely you will ask your fiancee for a dance?"

Denethor nodded his head and turned back towards Finduilas, "Lady, will you give me the honor?" He held out his hand and she took it in her own as the two of them stepped out into the center of the ballroom, and, locked in each other's arms, whirled about the floor.

[ October 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

alaklondewen

10-04-2003, 05:05 PM

“They look good together, don’t they?” Sador leaned his head toward Pelien without taking his eyes off Adrama and Addruran who were gliding across the dance floor. Pelien didn’t reply. The couple sat sipping wine at one of the several tables that lined the outer walls of the grand hall, and even though the party was for Denethor and Finduilas, Pelien and Sador had their minds on another engaged couple. Sador had supported the engagement from the beginning, but Pelien was still coming around to liking the idea. A marriage would mean parties and a lot of planning, especially for the bride’s mother. The only drawback was that Pelien hated admitting defeat, so she was still partly hesitant about giving Addruran her complete support, but she knew eventually she would. “Look at our little girl…isn’t she beautiful?”

“She is.” Pelien reached across the table and took hold of Sador’s hand and squeezed it. “Oh Sador, what are we going to do?”

For a moment, Sador just looked at his wife with an expression that relayed the seriousness of the question, but then he relaxed and a broad smile spread across face. “We join them.” Pelien, confused at what her husband meant, tilted her head to one side with her eyebrows drawn together. Laughing at his wife’s expression, Sador continued, “…on the dance floor.” With that he stood and bowed to his wife before offering his hand. Pelien hesitated a few moments and then slipped her long slender hand into her husband’s hand, and the couple stepped out onto the floor.

Child of the 7th Age

10-04-2003, 07:00 PM

Novnarwen's post

“Oh Sador, what are we going to do?”

Pelien acted like expected; sad that her dear Adrama wouldn't marry the Steward but this Addruran. Sador hesitated. What to do, he thought. The answer was clear. They couldn't do anything, it wasn't really their business. If Adrama wanted to marry Addruran and they loved each other, then.. well...

“We join them.” Sador said after a moment of silence. “…on the dance floor,” the man continued. His wife looked oddly at him, as if he was making a joke of all this. Sador however, stood up, took her hand gently and bowed before he lead Pelien onto the floor.

Sador looked over at Adrama and her husband to-be (hopefully). He realised how happy the was for her, that she had finally found the one. Sador was also proud. "Pelien," he said whispering in her ear. "They do look wonderful together," he said nodding towards their daugher. Pelien gave a sigh. "But it wasn't meant to be..." she claimed.

"Ah well..Why not?" Sador said considering the situation carefully before asking this. He looked in his wife's deep eyes. "Don't you see? Adrama, our daughter was madly in love with Denethor, but she could still see Addruran. Which means in my opinion, that she practically saw this man when he was invisible." Sador swinged Pelien around. "And that is love, my dear wife. She saw him when she was in love with someone else."

Pelien didn't say anything, she just gazed at her husband, looking, searching; to find an answer to why he had said exactly this. Sador noticed the music stop, the dance was over....

[ October 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Everdawn

10-04-2003, 09:21 PM

Everdawn's post

Vieana, Averyll and Elen stood by the side of the dance floor watching Denethor and Finduilas dance. It was true that these times had been trying for the young women. "Well, im glad everything has turned out for the better." Vieana exclaimed. "I'm just glad at how clever I was." Averyll laughed. "You would" Elen remarked holding her wine glass loosly in her hand.

"Look, it's Tessa!" Elen said once again, pointing ot the other side of the room. "I was wondering about where she had gone off to..." Vieana said putting her hands on her hips awating the lengthy speech that she suspected was to come from her cheeky young friend. Instead Averyll held up her hand as she came. "We wanted to tell you." Tessa laughed and shook her head. "That was fantastic!" was all she said.

Vieana glanced at the dancing couples. Adrama smiled at her, and Vieana at her. "You know what, distinguished ladies of Dol Amroth?" she started. "I think that from now on, i will never make decisions about people before i see their true colours." She folded her arms. "Here, here" echoed Averyll from her side.

"Suppose we had never come to Minas Tirith, things might have turned out differently." Elen chimed, getting another glass of wine from a waiter. "Elen, lay off the wine a little, you may end up tipsy." Averyll laughed and made to take the glass of her, Elen backed off. "Thats exactly what i feel like doing! Ive earned it dont you say!"

"You are right Elen, drink up, I never thought in my wildest dreams that anyone would even try and attack Minas Tirith, i mean, especially now." A hand touched Vieana's back. "Neither did I." She looked around into the familliar scarred face of her husband Dardanir. "I wanted to tell you" Giggled Tessa mocking her. Behined Dardanir was a new number of Dol Amroth guards, all in Formal dress uniform, as well as Finduilas' Guard form the barracks.

"I have re-posted for the time being, until Finduilas is married of course. Captain Naian tells me that you have done a great favour to Gondor m'lady" He said smiling handsomly as he took Vieana hand and kissed it. "Why sir! So i am told by the Steward himself." She laughed and hugged him.

"Averyll was the onve who eventually found out who it was though." Vieana said turning to her friends. "You remember Dardanir, dont you." Dardanir bowed. "May I have this dance Lady Vieana."
"Why, certainly" she remarked smartly and took to the floor with her husband.

********************************************

Ealasaide's post

"Averyll was the one who eventually found out who is it was, though," Vieana said, smiling as she introduced her husband, Dardanir, to her friends. Averyll curtsied to her friend's husband and said she was glad to make his acquaintance. Then, as Dardanir whisked Vieana off to the dance floor, Averyll found herself on the sidelines again with Eleniel. She was used to it, having spent a year or so in mourning, but she still missed the feel of her husband's arm around her back as he spun her around the dance floor. Averyll sighed as her eyes found Lady Finduilas dancing, as well, on the arm of her husband-to-be.

"She looks so happy," murmured Averyll. She clasped her hands in front of herself, smiling at the young couple as they danced past. She felt pleased in her heart that she had been able to play her own small role in preserving Finduilas' happiness. With a little luck, Finduilas would have no more sadness in her marriage, having had so much to deal with so early on.

"Yes, they do look happy, don't they?" asked Elen, draining her wine glass. She had acquired a tipsy glow about her from all the wine and festivities. Averyll had heard her say a few minutes earlier that she had earned the right to a good time, and, in all honesty, Averyll believed Elen was right. She should be dancing! Turning to the group of new Dol Amroth guards just behind them, Averyll smiled at a handsome, dark-eyed young fellow, who seemed to have an eye for Elen. Walking over to him, Averyll winked.

"There's lovely young lady there, who - I have a feeling - would love to dance." She gestured to Elen, who was watching the dancing with a happy smile on her face. The young guard looked first surprised, then delighted. Averyll watched as, a moment later, he led a beaming Elen out on to the floor for the next dance. Averyll stepped back from the edge of dance floor, disappointed not to be dancing herself, but happy that all of her friends were happy. She was just drifting back in the direction of the buffet table, when she felt a hand gently catch her elbow.

"Lady Averyll, may I have this dance?" asked a familiar voice.

She turned and, for an instant, the breath caught in her throat. Then, a bright smile spread across her face. "Parris!" she exclaimed. "I thought you had sailed!"

Captain Parris merely smiled and shook his head. "We were planning to sail, but when I heard what was afoot here in Minas Tirith and what your part in it had been, I decided to stay an extra day." Averyll noticed that he was resplendent in the dress uniform of the Dol Amroth navy. She had never seen him looking so handsome and gallant.

"How could I miss the opportunity to dance with the lovely lady who unmasked the traitor?" he added with a courtly bow.

Averyll curtsied in return. "How could I refuse to dance with gentleman who did so much to help me unmask the traitor?"

"It was very brave of you to do what you did," Parris said quietly, leading her on to the dance floor. "You should have told me what you were about. Men like Athadan are not to be trifled with. You could have been hurt."

Averyll smiled. "You told me yourself that I should not be frightened of him, didn't you?"

Parris shook his head. "That was before I knew what was happening. You couldn't have trusted me?"

"No," Averyll leaned her head against his shoulder as they began to dance. "It was not my secret to share or keep. I was under the orders of none other than the Steward himself. I'm sure you can understand."

Parris said nothing, but Averyll could tell that he did understand. She closed her eyes, as his arm tightened slightly around her waist. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, as they glided smoothly around the dance floor. He was an excellent dancer. When Averyll opened her eyes again and looked up at him, she found him smiling at her.

"When are you coming back to Dol Amroth?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Definitely not until after the wedding. I suppose I shall stay as long as Finduilas needs me."

"What if you are needed by someone else?"

Averyll stopped dancing and took a step back from Parris, but he caught both of her hands in his. His grey-green eyes that reminded her so much of the sea twinkled at her.

"Are you saying that you might need me, Captain Parris?" asked Averyll playfully.

"That I am," he answered more solemnly than she had expected. "I am asking you to come back to Dol Amroth with me, Averyll. You are out of mourning now and free to do as you wish." He kissed her hands. "Will you have me?"

Averyll smiled at him gently, tears of happiness welling up in her eyes. "The last time I saw you, you only wanted to take me sailing."

"I've had time to think."

"And my son?" she asked, knowing already what the answer would be.

"I will love him as my own."

Averyll hesitated for only an instant, thinking of all the years she had known Parris, first as an associate of her father's and later on as the friend of her late husband. She had always felt an affection for him, and later, respect as she had gotten to know him better. True, he was a good deal older than herself, by at least fifteen years, but he was a good man. Now, she realized that the feelings she had for him had grown over time into something deeper than merely respect. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on Parris' lips.

"When Finduilas is happily married, I will come back to Dol Amroth," she promised.

"For me?" he asked, the playfulness coming back into his voice.

"For you, Captain Parris," Averyll answered happily. "But only if you promise to take me sailing." With that, both of them broke into laughter. Parris took her back into his arms and the two of them rejoined the colorful flow of dancers moving in graceful circles around the dance floor.

[ October 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Arien

10-05-2003, 02:12 PM

Alethea sprawled out on her bed. Her head ached and she wasn’t sure she could face going to the ball tonight, but she would have to and anyway she had to go, as Eckthelion would be there. And it would be the best time to tell him. And betray her blood said the voice in her head.

“No,” she whispered. It was a battle; but she knew it was the right thing to do. Even if she did ever feel some love for her sister and mother, they were evil and they had to be stopped. Alethea was the only one who knew all. She pulled herself off the bed as she heard the voice of Meirelle.

“Alethea!” She called knocking at the door.

“Come in,” Alethea replied. The door clicked open, Meirelle entered and shut it behind her.

“Do you need any help to get ready?” She said setting down the dress she held in her hands on the chair closest to her bed.

“Yes, if you will.” Alethea replied walking towards her. She placed her hands on Meirelle’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Thank you.” She said faintly.

“For what?” Meirelle laughed nervously.

“For getting the letter to Adrama, and for not telling anyone about it. You didn’t, did you?” Meirelle shook her head and Alethea smiled. She would miss her. No doubt whatever happened their servants would either flee or taken to be punished. Alethea didn’t want Meirelle to receive any punishment; but she did not want to loose her also. She had been the closest friend she had had when she was younger.

Which was a poignant thought for her; but it was all she knew. Alethea washed and donned the dress Meirelle had brought in with her. It had been purchased especially for the occasion and was a deep silky crimson. The corset fitted snugly around her torso, and was tied tightly with a red matching ribbon at the back.

The front was covered in bursts of rubies and the skirt was a plain crimson silk, but it was layered thickly. On her feet she was delicate matching slippers. Alethea sat down at her dressing table and stared into the mirror as Meirelle did her hair. The girl laced red gems in and out of her hair and brushed it while Alethea swept her eyes with a crimson powder and placed red gems in the corners of her eyes. Her eyes were glazed and filled with tears but she fought them back and reassured herself that she was doing the right thing.

She thanked Meirelle and the two made their way down to the main entrance where Dryea waited. As Alethea walked down the stairs her sister gave her a smile. Alethea did not know why but it annoyed her. How could she smile at her? It made what Alethea was about to do even more unbearable. She nodded back, but wore no emotion of happiness. Their mother was not to join them tonight; but instead remained in her study.

A few brief words were shared between the three before they left; they were mostly of their behaviour but all through it Alethea could not bring herself to look at the two. Whether it was because of guilt or sheer hate she could not gather. The two left in silence and they did not talk on the way there. Alethea was glad of this, for she could barley face Dryea. Their carriage arrived promptly and the two entered the ball without a word to each other.

Alethea turned and saw the back of Dryea as she walked off. She stared for a moment until she felt a tug at her hand.

“Adrama!” She exclaimed turning to her friend.

“Alethea,” she smiled back, “the steward is over there.” She said pointing.

“I know…” Alethea replied looking at the Steward for a few moments.

“You are not having second thoughts are you?” Whispered Adrama.

Alethea shook her head; but the truth was she was having second thoughts. Could she really betray her mother and sister and all that they stood for?

“You must tell him,” Adrama said exasperatedly now looking towards the Steward also, “It is the right thing to do.”

Alethea nodded, “I will go, alone. I hope you do not…” Alethea said turning to Adrama. She shook her head and with and assuring look Alethea made her way to Eckthelion.

“My lord?” She said when reaching him. She curtsied and waited for his reply.

“Yes?” He said turning to Alethea, as he saw whom it was his eyes widened.

“May I speak to you?” Alethea glanced around, “In private if you will allow it?”

“Yes, yes of course.” The two left and entered the gardens surrounding the Stewards estate. As they walked the cold chilling wind blew through Alethea’s hair and a lost tear fell down her cheek.

“Well what is it that you whish to say?” asked the Steward, while looking up to the sky.

Alethea paused and then began, “You know of the spy?” He nodded, “The spy is my family.” She said blankly.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I was brought news of it. Someone had heard an argument between yourself and your sister. That is how I know.”

“But you do not know it all!” She exclaimed, maybe he would make an incorrect judgement and condemn her. But was that not the right thing to do? After all if she had always been against the why had she not come forth before that? Before she knew it Alethea had launched herself to tell the Steward all she knew of her family’s plans.

“…but you must understand. I know I am not totally innocent; but I hate hat they are doing, and I always I have I was just too stupid to come forth before. Please can you forgive me? I am not asking you to pardon me from punishment, but I….” Alethea broke of, stray tears fell down her cheek and she looked up at the Steward.

He stopped walking and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Alethea, you were right to come to me. At least you did not hide. Because of this you will be granted safety here. Everyone shall know that you have done no wrong.”

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper into the frozen night.

[ October 07, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

10-06-2003, 12:47 AM

Maikafanawen's post

"Oh, just send them away," Dryea complained to Rheaite. The maid stood nervously by the door to the parlor room, waiting to accept the next person come to pay condolences to the grieving woman. 'They were engaged for but six hours,' they would exclaim. 'It couldn't have happened to a dearer girl.' Lady Morthaniawen squirmed with glee at their pitiful faces. She so loved putting on dramatics and watching people's reactions. It was possible that Dryea even over did some of her acts like bursting into tears at the slightest mention of some delicate subject and even resorting to throwing her glass of wine across the room and out the open window. Rheaite knew she was playing a wicked game with these people's hearts and it was all she could do from stopping her.

"My Lady," she said intrepidly after a Ms Dillirdyn and her two daughters of just down the Way had left Dryea to one of her particular outrageous fits. "If I'm not too bold, perhaps if you were less dramatic and more accepting and fallaciously thankful of these people's attempts to cheer you, your loss would be well-harbored in the citizen's own hearts." Dryea stood and turned to glare at her maid. In two strides she was towering over the young girl, her hand raised in mid-strike. A moment before the inevitable slap, there came a knock at the door. "Get it," Dryea hissed to the terrified Rheaite. "And do not mistake me for the weakling of a woman my sister is. I expect you to keep your place!" The maid answered the door, trembling violently and deathly pale.

"The Isindils are here to see Miss Dryea," the butler announced to Rheaite. "Are you alright Miss Rhe?" The maid, nodding fiercely at the butlers inquiry, relayed the message to Dryea.

"Ooh yummy!" the lady exclaimed nastily. "I was hoping they'd come." She took a seat on the settee adopting a rigid and uneasy position. "Show them in," she whispered excitedly. Dryea made her face lack and gave an overburdening grief stricken appearance to her eyes. Then silver tears streamed down her cheeks. Thus Mr. And Mrs. Isindil found her. Rhircyn's mother had also been crying.

When they entered, Dryea allowed them to see her uncomfortable state before she turned to see who they were. She summoned an even more pained expression to her face and stood slowly, making her way to Lady Amowiel. Nearly there she swooned and fell with a dainty thump to the floor.

"Quick!" Lord Gaenry said. "The poor girl's fainted!" Rheaite's anger bottled up inside of her as she ran for someone to 'help'. Lady Isindil knelt beside the girl and cradled her head in her lap, crying softly. Dryea's eyes fluttered and open. Then she too began to cry. Rheaite returned with Ruiel bursting in the lead followed by the butler and a serving girl balancing a glass of water and two pills on a silver tray.

The Isindils left soon after Dryea 'recovered'. They decided it was too soon to speak with her about their son. The young woman thanked them for coming and apologized for fainting. "It's quite all right my dear," Lord Gaenry said solemnly. "We understand." The house was gravely silent as the Isindils made their way out the doors and down the path to their carriage.

Then Rheaite started to cry out of anger and Dryea laughed at her. "Oh get out!" she yelled at the furious maid. Helpless, the girl left her mistress's company and ran down to the kitchens. Ruiel, after making sure her daughter was truly all right, absconded to her office.

"My Lady?" the new maid's voice rang like a bell as she prepared to announce the next visitor. The woman smiled, "Yes?"

"There's a Miss Elena here to see you." Dryea's expression went from surprise, to worry, to acceptance.

"Very well, show her in." Elena entered and looking pityingly at her friend. She walked over to the sofa where Dryea sat in her black dress and veil, pouring a cup of tea—she'd already had enough wine for the morning. After looking her friend up and down, she quickly determined that all was well with her and her reason for dropping in was sincere. There might have been a few questions she'd have been hoping to ask but after Dryea's 'act' she would think it better not to.

"How are you doing?" Elena whispered kindly, laying a hand on her friend's arm. Dryea took in a short quick breath and then sighed just as promptly and mournfully.

"All right, I guess," she muttered weakly. The discussion went well and Dryea kept the posing cloud of despair huddled about her snuggly and politely accepted the condolences that passed through. Once during their talk she even began to cry (again) and Elena embraced her comfortingly.

After an hour or so the student left without asking any of her curious questions, leaving Dryea in her peaceful misery. "That will do for today," Lady Morthaniawen announced. "I'll have no more visitors." She stood and took the pins out of her hat, setting it on the table by the settee. She walked over to the window and looked out over her gardens and at the slightly graying sky overhead.

"Lady Dryea," the maid said in her singsong voice. "Thy mother sends word. Ye are required to attend the ball held by his grace the Steward—" she paused to brush at her nose, Dryea laughed. "She wants ye to be ready by seven this evening." The woman nodded.

"Give my mother my accordance." Bowing, the maid left to do as Dryea bid. In lighter spirits at the girl's wise demonstration of loyalty, Lady Morthaniawen ventured up to her room on the East wing.

The dress for tonight was of midnight black silk: appropriate for her current situation. Woven here and there were dark blue flowers that emitted a pleasant fragrance. Even though the colors were dark and mournful, the style was definitely not so. It was of the latest fashion appropriately implied with lace up sleeves segmented into slight ruffles and a closefitting bodice atop a full skirt. A motif of black roses were embroidered throughout and gave it a regal appearance. "Simply splendid," Mari, Dryea's new maid, had described it. Lady Dryea thought so. It was simple enough to fit her grief-stricken condition, but splendid enough to keep her reputation of utmost majestic splendor encouraged. She finished off the ensemble with a velour ribbon tied around her slender neck in a choker fashion, plus a set of onyx earrings, bracelet and rings.

"Mademoiselle," Mari whispered in her ear after curling the last lock of auburn hair and letting it hang down her back. "You are the finest lady I've ever seen." Dryea beamed. Her hair was curled and let down except for a small portion that was pulled behind her ears and knotted in the back. This was covered by a stylish black cap adorned with a single black rose and some ebony net.

"Is the lady ready Miss Mari?" the butler inquired from without Dryea's chamber door.

"She'll be right along." Making sure she carried all the necessities to a corsair woman's outfit, including every mean of self-defense, Dryea allowed Mari to carry her black cloak, gloves, and fan to the door for her. Not long after, Alethea arrived to hear out Ruiel's final instructions.

"It's not that big of a deal girls," she informed, "but keep your eyes and ears open and stay on your best behavior." There was more and finally the two women boarded the carriage and were off to the citadel.

Nurumaiel

10-06-2003, 03:46 PM

Adrama floated across the floor in a dream, thinking of all that had happened recently. The uncovering of the spy, Addruran, her argument with her mother, her talk with Alethea.... Smiling fondly, she glanced over across the dance floor where her mother and father were also dancing, happy and relaxed. Adrama had been so pleased when her mother had given consent to the engagement.

Adrama's eyes travelled to Denethor and Finduilas. Finduilas was quite relaxed in Denethor's arms, and she was dancing gracefully, looking very lovely that night. Her eyes were locked with Denethor's as they moved about the floor. "Addruran, would you mind if we went and said hello to Denethor and Finduilas?" Adrama asked. When Addruran gave her a questioning look, she blushed and her head dropped. "I've been rather awful to them recently," she explained, her voice filled with shame. "I'd like to make up for it."

Taking her hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze, Addruran led her across the dance floor, where he paused Denethor and Finduilas. The latter two looked at the couple inquiringly, and some concern flickered in Finduilas' eyes as she recognized Adrama as Pelien's daughter. Adrama saw it and took Finduilas' hand, blushing furiously. "I hope both of you will forgive my family," she said slowly. "I realize that you must have been rather bothered that my mother brought up those rumors, but I assure you her intentions were not bad. Perhaps, though, it was rather rude. But our intentions were not..." Realizing that she was repeating herself, Adrama bit her lip. "I have also been very foolish," she said. Her eyes strayed to Denethor's face, wondering what he would think of her if she said, but then she remembered Addruran's presence by her side, and that she didn't care what Denethor thought anymore. And she confessed how she had been hoping all the rumors about Finduilas were true so she, Adrama, might marry Denethor. In speaking of the latter, Adrama blushed a little, for it was hard to admit to Denethor's face that she had been in love with him, but she received no scornful looks.

"I'm sorry for that," Adrama said. "But you can thank Addruran I didn't join with the traitors who have been hiding here, for if he hadn't come and encouraged me I very well might have, whether from despair or hatred of you, I know not." She paused, then, looking first at Finduilas and then at Denethor, said, "I beg your forgiveness."

"And you have it," Finduilas said. "Tessa once met with your mother for tea, and when she returned she told me about you, saying she'd taken quite a liking to you. I myself have wondered greatly about you. You seemed very mysterious."

"Perhaps I hid my feelings because I knew deep inside I was ashamed of them," Adrama replied. "Thank you."

Denethor, seeing Adrama was uncomfortable, skillfully changed the subject. "So you are Addruran," he said. "I have heard about you. My father speaks highly of you, and tells me you played a large part in capturing Athadan, the spy. Thank you for your service."

"Thank you, sir," said Addruran, trying to hide his embarrassment. "We don't wish to interrupt your dancing anymore. Farewell." With a nod to Denethor and a little bow to Finduilas, Addruran took Adrama's hand and they began to dance again.

Dancing forward into my life, Adrama thought as she went over the familiar steps of the dance, falling into a dreamworld. She thought of the children she would raise, and how hard their life would be, yet so easy. She thought forward to the day when their first child would be born, and what joy would come with that day. And then their second, and their third, and so on. And when they were old, and they would have grandchildren to love, and then someday when they had great grand children, until at last they drifted away from this world. It would be a beautiful life, and the beginning of that wonderful and glorious life was now, when at last all had been resolved and all her fears and doubts had been left far behind as they danced on.

[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

10-07-2003, 12:18 PM

Dryea Betrayed

Ecthelion’s words rang in his mind as he paused in the archway that led into the ballroom. The steward had been most generous, he thought, upon consideration. He would have the chance to redeem himself, and to keep his family from any shame.

Athadan’s gaze slid around the room, looking at the guards positioned discretely here and there. They gave no indication that they noted his entrance. But he knew that somewhere there were those whose eyes watched his every move.

He could feel his heart thump faster and his mouth go dry as he stepped just beyond the entrance and scanned the room for her. Like a venomous viper weaving back and forth before her prey, he was both drawn to her and loathed her. No, loathed himself, he thought, for being so foolish. A few more assignations and he knew now he would have outlived his usefulness to her, become dangerous to her and her cause. He would be dead at her hands, discarded once he had served her purposes.

There she was! In a small group of ladies and their gentlemen on the right hand side of the ballroom. He paused for a moment to take in her presence. She was holding court, all eyes were on her – the men in admiration, the ladies half in admiration and half in jealousy. And what a mockery her dress was, he thought, noting the dark color suggesting mourning, and the cut and decoration of it suggesting she was still very much in the game. Athadan shook himself mentally, seeing her clearly for the first time, without longing. What a fool he had been!

She glanced up at him, and he caught her eye. His hand moved to the breast of his tunic, where the message lay hidden beneath, and he nodded imperceptibly at her. Her eyes followed him, he knew, as he went upstairs, and into one of the alcoves on the far end of the balustrade that rimmed the upper walk about the ballroom.

She took her time coming to him. Making her excuses, he was sure, to all those who stopped her and offered their sympathies. Her perfume drifted into the alcove before her. What once had smelled so enticing now reeked in his nostrils with the smell of deceit.

Dryea stood before him, her hard glittering eyes fixing him like a bug on a collector’s wall. ‘Well . . . ,’ she said softly, holding out her hand to him, her foot tapping impatiently on the parquet floor.

‘A message from Ecthelion to Thorongil, m’Lady,’ he said reaching for the slender, rolled vellum beneath his tunic. ‘He has agreed to Thorongil’s request to send ships and troops south to quell any chance of problems spreading north toward Gondor.’

Dryea’s eyes went wide at his summary of the message. She took it quickly from his outstretched hand, removing the dark blue ribbon that bound it, her eyes scanning quickly to the bottom for the Steward’s seal. Satisfied it was real enough, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, reminding him to come back shortly to retrieve it once she’d read and memorized the contents. Without a word of thanks, she turned back to the letter, greedily reviewing the details of dates, and numbers, and strategies.

Athadan bowed slightly to her as she waved him off. ‘My pleasure to have served you once again,’ he said in parting. He exited the alcove drawing the curtains to it closed to give her privacy. He stood for a moment outside the alcove, and drew a great breath, letting it out slowly.

‘It is done,’ he said, a grim look of relief showing on his face. He strode quickly from the house, heading for his quarters. He would need to pack and see to his weapons . . . he would be leaving soon . . .

[ October 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

10-07-2003, 12:20 PM

Maikafanawen's post

Dryea raised a thin eyebrow as Athadan handed her the vellum. His hands shook only slightly but such was the reaction of some to Dryea's majestic presence.

"A message from Ecthelion to Thorongil, m’Lady. He has agreed to Thorongil’s request to send ships and troops south to quell any chance of problems spreading north toward Gondor." Glancing to the bottom of the sheet, Dryea approved its authenticity.

"Fine Athadan, I'll be hoping to hear from you soon with more information. We've something big on our hands." She dismissed him then with a flick of her wrist and he bowed deeply before leaving her to the alcove. She sat down on the cushioned window-seat and reviewed the contents.

It took her by surprise. What with the marriage between Denethor and Finduilas, she didn't expect Ecthelion to agree so quickly with sending troops. Perhaps things were leaking out of Umbar worse than she thought.

Rolling the vellum up and securing it again with the ribbon, she folded it into the confines of her bodice and left the alcove. Pulling a black handkerchief from her drawstring purse, she dabbed at her eyes in case anyone was watching her emerge.

Then she heard the footsteps. She knew right away that they were not just guests seeking the nearest exit for fresh air or servants on their way to the kitchens. These were the solid steps of guards; and they came from both directions. Dryea was feeling a bit nervous as she began to walk back down the stairs towards the ballroom. She looked up just in time to see the first two guards mount the stairs. They looked up and their expressions held that look of detection that identified her as whom they'd been searching for.

Without thinking she spun quickly and flew back up the stairs, fumbling for her dagger as she went. She had just closed her hands around the hilt as she ran into someone at the top of the stairs. He grabbed her wrist and applied pressure that caused to her to slacken her grip. The dagger fell to the marble floor with a hollow clatter.

"Lady Morthaniawen," said a somber voice. Dryea looked up, a strand of amber curls falling from underneath her hat. Her gaze met with Ecthelion's. His eyes were cold and full of disappointment. The regret written on his façade was so powerful that Dryea even felt a little shameful for her actions. Then her soul hardened against him and she stood ready to lie.

"My Lord!" she curtsied quickly and pried herself from the guard's grasp. "These men attacked me! I was defending myself!"

"Guards of Minas Tirith attacking you?" Ecthelion bellowed. Dryea's expression faltered and her tongue froze.

"I-I, well, yes-no! m-my Lord." Tears of frustration began to well up in her eyes.

"Yes? No? What is it!?" The Steward stepped forward and gestured for the guards to get her back on her feet and standing level with him. At her full height she was almost as tall as he was. But she felt so much smaller. "Search her," he commanded.

The guards did so indifferently until they'd recovered the message. Confused, Dryea searched the Steward's eyes for an answer. "Athadan!" she choked. Ecthelion's expression remained placid as he weighed the vellum in his hand.

"Take her away."

"NO!" Dryea began to kick and squirm, doing her best to free herself from the guards' hold. "You can't! I-I..." She was gagged then and chains were locked on her wrists. But the struggle continued as she was taken down the back stairs to the iron carriage that awaited her.

About halfway to the door leading outside her gag ripped and she screamed once good and loud before they silenced her again. Hopefully an ally would have heard!

********************************************

Orofaniel's post

Betuli was going towards the ballroom. She though she heard the sound of music while she walked. She imagined how it would be, the lovely outfits, the handsome lads and of course the music. Betuli had always wanted to attend such a nice event, but she had never really been invited, she was after all just a maid. But even though she only was a maid, it had never stopped her from peeking, and sometimes even stand in the entry. But then again, there had not been many balls and similar events yet. She hoped that her Lady's marriage would bring more of these things in the future. Maybe she one day would be invited, but that was still just a silly dream.

A horrible thought suddenly struck the maid as she walked. What if Finduilas didn't want to keep her old maids when she married Denenthor? What if she wouldn't be able to serve her after Finduilas' marriage? Betuli gave a short sigh. Then she gave another sigh, and noticed that she had stopped walking. Time will show , Betuli though and her feet started to walk again, and she passed one of the kitchens.

Suddenly she heard footsteps. They were going fast and stern over the floor. The steps were walking towards the ballroom, as was she. Betuli couldn't help herself; she was very curious, but a bit anxious at the same time. What could this be? She hurried around the corner, and to her big surprise she saw guards! Guards? Betuli though as she walked slowly towards one of them. They were all in a rush and didn't seem to notice her before she was asking one of them a question.

"What..?" The guard answered, he didn't seem to understand Betuli's question. Or perhaps he hadn't heard her.

"Why are there so many guards here?" She asked again, in a slow and suspicious voice.

"We are going to arrest...." He didn't complete his own sentence. He gave a short nod another guard, probably his head. He to a step away from Betuli and continued: "I'm sorry, but I cannot give you further information, we must move quickly. So if you'll excuse me...." After he had finished he walked over to the other guards, and soon all of them were gone. Betuli heard them going up the stairs, hurried but stern steps.

Betuli was left alone, with an empty feeling. Well, perhaps not empty. She was still very curious about the arrest. Who had done a deed of such an ill matter that there would have to be guards to capture him? The thought of it was not comforting. A person who had committed such things, were to Betuli's disgust.

The curiosity had finally slipped her mind and body when she continued down towards the ball some minutes later.

********************************************

Child's post

Eckthelion leaned against the balustrade, his eyes cold and hard, intently watching while the guards led the struggling woman out through the archway and down the narrow staircases that led to the lower levels of the building. From here, she would be dragged along the corridor and marched down to the plaza where a larger squadron of soldiers would escort her to a small locked cell in the lowest basement of the guardhouse where she would be held for further questioning and eventual punishment. There would be no honorable bargain or mercy for one such as she.

Eckthelion nodded at the three other guards who now stood at attention in front of him. Their faces looked taut and strained as the Steward turned about, barking out his question, "The Lady Ruiel, where is she? You were to seize her at the party as soon as the trap for Dryea was laid."

"Sire, we beg your pardon but she's not here. We've searched the ballroom from one end to the other, and everyone swears they have not seen her tonight. Believe me, if she had been here, she would not have escaped us." The guard looked up at Eckthelion waiting for him to respond.

"Not seen her?" The searing realization of those words sank into the Steward's mind. The mother must have suspected something. What else would account for her absence from a function such as this? He glanced down at the men standing before him and barked out his orders, "Quick now! To her chambers! Before she gets away. Seize the woman, clap her in chains, and bring her to the guardhouse. Lock her rooms and station a guard for everything must be torn apart and examined."

With that, the men lept to attention and sprinted off on the errand that the Steward had laid out for them.

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

10-07-2003, 01:39 PM

Elora's post:

Rannë shot through Ruiel's door without so much as a word. Ruiel's head snapped up at the intrusion, her expression fiercely cool. It made barely a dint in her normally circumspect and level headed maid's demeanour.

"What is this," Ruiel snapped waspishly at Rannë.
"Dryea has been arrested!"

Rannë wasted no breath on curtesty titles nor tactful words. Indeed, she was still puffing from her sprint through the Manor's halls. Ruiel dropped her nib in startled surprise, ink splattering over the paper she had been working on as well as her silk gown. She ignored both stains as the ink spread darkly. Distantly in her mind, a cool voice observed that the ink very much represented the ill fortune that would undo all her work, inexorably spreaking like a cankerous disease... We are not ruined yet, Ruiel snapped back at herself.

Rannë's wide eyed expression of dismay deepened and Ruiel realised that she had spoken aloud. She abruptly stood, the furrows in her brow deepening. Gone was the cultivated air of a delicate Gondorian noblewoman. Ruiel had little use for it now. Rannë saw her mistress transform into the Umbarian Corsair she truly was, desperation and implacable will garbed in a stained silk robe and clutching an ornate golden dagger like to the one her eldest daughter had dropped.

"When did this happen," she snarled.
"Within the hour," Rannë blurted anxiously. "Dryea was taken into custody by the Steward himself."
"And what of Alethea," Ruiel probed. Rannë blinked, surprised by this sudden turn of seemingly maternal concern.

"I have heard nothing of the young Lady Morthaniawen," Rannë replied. She gasped as she watched Ruiel's expression become one of infinite rage. With one hand, Ruiel swept the contents of her desk onto the floor with a shattering crash.

"Treachery!" The accusation hung in the air. Ruiel struggled to breath through her rising violent temper and Rannë took an involuntary step backwards. The Lady Morthaniawen moved behind her chair and gripped the back of it with white knuckled hands. Rannë was certain she'd hear the crack of wood splintering soon. Such rages were rarely witnessed.

Indeed, Rannë had only seen them twice before in her many years of service to Ruiel. One had been the instrument of freeing her from the Captain. The other had lead to Lord Morthaniawen's death. Both had resulted in murder. Ruiel had not risen to her rank in Umbar's array of spies and courtisans with clean hands.

"Dispose of everything in this office."
"Everything?" All the years of work, to be destroyed. In a chill, bleak voice, Ruiel repeated herself.

"Everything." Ruiel released the back of her chair and stalked from the room, her step becoming swifter and swifter still. If Rannë was found destroying documents then so be it. She'd find a new maid sooner or later. She'd find a new household and house if it came to that.

As for her daughters and herself, that was a different matter entirely. Alethea, if she was traitor, would be protected by Eckthelion. Umbar would have to wait for it's vengeance against her treason. Dryea may possibly be saved. Ruiel had no intentions of leaving her eldest daughter, who knew so much, alive and able to speak, waiting at the Steward's leisure. Dryea would either be rescued or given the only honourable way out.

Ruiel would certainly not sit like a duck upon a glassy millpond whilst the ocean tossed and the wind howled. Too long and too much she had laboured for this. She tore the silk robe from her as she entered her room and riffled through her wardrobe. Tucked away in a dark corner was exactly what she was looking for.

When Ruiel slipped out of her room and crept her way through her house, it was as though she were a common assassin once more. Garbed in common streetwear, her hair tucked up and away in a man's hat, Ruiel melted into the steady traffic of people with only two things in her possession. One was her golden dagger. The other was her right of safe passage across Umbar's borders. No need for frippery now, and let the Steward's men find the matron of Minas Tirith's society shuffling along like a common innkeeper.

Two things were also upon her mind: Death and Freedom.

*********************************************

Child's post:

The party continued on, the music playing and dancers swirling about the floor, most of the participants wholly unaware of what had just transpired. Unable to wait any longer, the Steward had excused himself from the festivities and headed towards the exit of the building intending to go on in the direction of the guardhouse.

Too much time had passed and there had been no report back from either group of soldiers, those who were escorting Dryea or the others who'd gone searching for Reuil. Before the Steward had even managed to leave the building, a guard came running up to him, with panic written on his face. "Sire, the Lady Reuil, she is gone. Her chambers are empty. We have searched, but can not find her."

"We saw only one lone servant in the apartments burning papers in the grate. Of course, we took her into custody. Unfortunately, little was left in the chambers besides a heap of mouldering vellum sheets, charred and stained beyond recognition, or already turned to piles of ash."

Eckthelion turned away and scowled. This was not what he had planned. Shadowy images and warnings played inside his mind as he struggled to make sense out of what had happened, "Go now. Find the Lady Dryea and the soldiers escorting her. I have not yet hard any report and do not know if they have reached the guardhouse, or something has happened along the way. I tell you that this is where the Lady Reuil will be....there beside her daughter."

This time, when they took off in the direction of the guardhouse, the Steward trailed close behind them, trying to find out what had happened.

[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

10-07-2003, 01:39 PM

Maikafanawen's post

Mari shook nervously as she watched from the shadows of the alcove. A pack of clothes and other few necessities for herself was slung over her shoulder. The maid was unrecognizable in her loose-fitting black clothes with a sword strapped to her belt. Mari instead looked the part of a regular citizen tonight!

No more than ten minutes after Mari had overheard Ränne tell Ruiel of Dryea's arrest, the soldiers were swarming all over the Morthaniawen Estate like maggots attacking a host. Inconceivable fury overwhelmed her and she discarded her cloak of hesitance to do what was needed of her. The maid was two flights of stairs and three hallways away from Dryea's bedchambers and it was hence she ran. Ducking under tapestries and pulling down priceless vases to stop the soldiers who pursued, Mari made it twenty paces before they did and locked the door behind her.

Immediately they began to hack at the mahogany with swords. It took a few minutes for Mari to rip down the cover and loose the chain from behind the tapestry that let fall the iron-gate. It gave a tremendous crash and chips of mortar fell from the ceiling.

"HA!" the maid cried triumphantly. Curses were barely audible from behind the barricade as the soldiers stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to do.

Mari wasted no time. She ran to the closet and tore aside the assortment of gorgeous dresses to the safe in the back. Pulling her own dagger from her frock she picked at the lock until it clicked open. Inside she found the documents Dryea would need to return safely to Umbar. She kissed the envelope thankfully and stuffed it into the leather bag hanging from the peg just inside the compartment.

Next to go inside the bag was a change of clothes for Dryea. She would not get very far in that dress she had left the house in, so Mari included a pair of snug-fitting pants, a black swordsman's shirt, and leather jerkin. "Shoes!" she reminded herself and also added a pair of sturdy black leather boots. She left the closet then, bumping her head on the lowly hung frame. Shaking off the slight dizziness she rummaged through the desk and found a pair of slender long-knives.

Finally she stuffed a handful of jewels into one of the inner pockets in case other things must be purchased. The last thing she grabbed was Dryea's own sword, a gift from her and her mother's employer.

These things tied securely to her belt, or in the case of the bag draped over her shoulder, Mari opened the passageway inside the fireplace and let herself down carefully to the dark hallway below. She walked ten paces before coming across a lever. She tugged on it twice and a door opened into the kitchens. Mari looked around to make sure no one was there and then ran across the scullery to the door at the far side, her boots making no noise as she ran.

A gust of cold wind met Mari as she ran across the back lawn to the alley exit. There were no soldiers waiting for her.

"Mari!" a young masculine voice called. The maid turned to see her brother Drian give her a wink and wave a bloody dagger. "S'all taken care of Sis! Good luck!" Mari nodded and was off to the Citadel . . .

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

10-07-2003, 01:40 PM

Pio's post - Dryea escapes

The two guards who had charge of Dryea were hard put to control her. She was still fighting them as they dragged her down the steps to the locks and threw her into one of the tiny single cells. The door slammed shut as they exited, the only light left to her a small slit in the rock wall a good foot above her head. The door had a small barred window in it, but the thick wooden covering had been slid over it and secured in place. They were tired of her screams; the thick oak door would muffle them.

‘You keep an eye on that one,’ the taller of the two said to Gaeran, who had drawn the duty of warden for the black this day. ‘She’s a tricky one, she is. Don’t let her wheedle you into anything!’

Gaeran nodded, his face a mask of businesslike impassivity. He had nearly gasped when he saw her dragged in through the door, but schooled his breathing quickly to some semblance of normalcy.

He had been one of her earliest contacts in the citadel, useful until he had been transferred to duty in the Locks. Still, he was not resentful. Pro-Umbar, he had served his purpose while he could, then stepped aside when she said she would no longer need him.

He opened the book on his desk and wrote her name and cell number in it. ‘Has she any effects I shall need to see to,’ he asked them. They laughed, saying that they had snatched her from a party, and any “effects” she had had been left behind. Gaeran smiled a half smile at their joke, then bent his head to his papers and busied himself with them until the two left.

It grew quiet once again as their footsteps faded on the stairwell. Their were only two on duty in the watch room that day – him, and Old Forlong who sat on a stone seat near the far pillar, propped against it, snoring loudly. From his place at the watch desk, Gaeran glanced toward the cell that held her. Tapping the end of his pen against his teeth, he sat there, thinking hard, perhaps there was one last thing he could do.

His thoughts were interrupted by voices on the landing just outside the door. Another guard stepped in. ‘Someone bringing some necessaries for the lady just brought in, Sir.’

Gaeran dismissed the young guard, back to his post at the foot of the stairs, and beckoned the young woman over. ‘Sir,’ she began, holding up the small basket she had brought – she had hidden the clothes and weapons in some bushes nearby before entering the citadel. He cut off the rest of her words, and leaned in close to her speaking softly.

‘I know you, Mari,’ he said taking his helmet off and setting it on the table. ‘We have met before.’

There followed a hurried conversation between them as Gaeran led her to the cell that held her mistress. He unlocked it, and they both entered, he following her in . . .

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Child of the 7th Age

10-07-2003, 01:43 PM

Maikafanawen's post

Dryea's kicks and clawing weren't as futile as the guards would have liked them to be. She left a very nice gash on the shorter one's jaw and the stocky one limped from a good kick to the knee.
"You can't do this to me!" Dryea screamed at the oak door after it had been locked. "I was framed! I-I," she paused to catch her breath, "I'm in mourning!"

"You keep an eye on that one," she heard one of them say to the warden. "She’s a tricky one, she is. Don’t let her wheedle you into anything!"

She screamed again good and loud and the stones overhead seemed to shake with the resonating cry. Then the wooden covering was slid over the square barred window in the door and their voices were cut off. Unwilling to give up hope just yet she began to search around the floor of her cell for any sort of hint that could get her out. Her hands still bound, Dryea dug at the mortar between the stones on the wall and stood up on the bench chained to the wall to see out the slit of a window in the back wall.

There was no way out. She jumped down off the bench and stamped her feet in incorrigible fury. Her fists pounded the door and as she yelled and pleaded for mercy, anything to get out and have a go at escape.

When that failed she backed up to the bench and sat down with a force that shook the chains and flakes of mortar fell into her hair.

"Errr—Damn it!" she said slamming the palm of her hands down on the seat. Breathing deeply she pressed her head against the stone. "Oh man, think, think.... Curse you mother! Leaving me to perish for your errs! You should have seen this coming! I knew we'd be betrayed!" Tears of aggravation slid down her cheeks and she stood again, searching fruitlessly for a way out.

A key was slipped into the lock on her cell door and opened it. Dryea crouched behind the door as it opened, ready to pounce on whomever it was that entered. A slender figure wrapped in a fine black cloak entered with a basket on her arm. She instinctively backed up towards the vacant side of the door and shut it so that her foot kept it open and she could see who hid behind.

Dryea stood and advanced quickly ready to claw the person's brain out if she had to. Anything to get free.

"Wait!" the person hissed and she pulled back the cowl to reveal herself.

"Mari!" Dryea gasped in shock. The maid's eyes widened as a signal to hush. The warden entered the cell behind her.

"I've brought necessities," she said deliberately. "Gaeran has let me in to give them to you." Dryea's eyes expanded. Mari nodded, an enigmatic twinkle to her eye.

"We haven't much time," Gaeran said taking off his helmet and setting it on the bench. "You'll have to take my clothes to get out of here." Dryea nodded and began to undress hurriedly. The warden turned his back respectfully as Mari helped Dryea don his clothes so that they gave her a manly appearance.

"Were we under different circumstances," Mari said, tying the warden's belt around Dryea's waist, "I might laugh at you." The respectful tone of voice she'd harbored as a maid in the Morthaniawen's house was gone. She spoke as an equal to Dryea: a friend. Dryea rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I should make you wear my dress and stay here in the cells in my place?" she said threateningly. Mari didn't even blink.

"I don’t think so, because then how will you find the weapons and real clothes I've hidden for you just outside?" Mari smiled. "Besides," she said, picking up one of Dryea's silver soled heels. "Gaeran's offered to do that for us." In one fluid movement the maid had hit the warden over the head, drawing blood, and the two women watched emotionlessly as he slid to the floor unconscious.

"How nice of him," Dryea mused. They wrapped him in the black mourning gown and stuffed him into a sleeping position in one of the corners. "Sweet dreams," Dryea whispered.

"We don’t have time for corny jokes," Mari said handing her the helmet. "We've got to go." Dressed as the prison warden and a love interest on her arm, the two women left the prison, dropping the keys beside the sleeping Forlong. Adopting the prideful stride of the prison warden, Dryea successfully 'escorted' Mari from the prison and out of sight.

Once they had reached the place where Mari stashed their things, she discarded the basket and gave Dryea her leather bag. The fugitive looked inside and beamed. "Very nice Mari, well done!" Slipping behind a tree to change into the more suitable clothes, Dryea listened as Mari relayed to her the plan.

"There's a ship docked at Harlond waiting to take us to Umbar. Drian sent a message ahead to Tr Dalon, the captain, and he's waiting for us there. We'll be back in Umbar by the end of the month at latest."

"And what of my mother?" Dryea asked indifferently. Mari shrugged, "I don’t think she knows of Tr Dalon's attendance at the docks. She'll probably miss the boat unless you want to risk your neck looking for her." Dryea scoffed.

"She's a big girl, Ruiel can take care of herself." Dressed now in her native black leather clothes, Dryea emerged tying her sword to her belt. "So where are the horses?" Mari laughed and the two made their way to the stables. Black horses were ideal for night travel and luckily the two women were able to find them and tack them up quickly. Then they were off at a furious gallop towards Harlond and safely out of harm's way.

The women rode their horses right onto the ship where it rocked and strained against the hawsers which held her at the end of stone wharf that jutted out into the choppy water. "Ahoy Dryea!" first mate Dawser acknowledged the first rider.

"Alright Captain Dalon!" Dryea shouted up to where he stood by the helmsman. "We'd do well to be off now!" The man nodded and shouted orders for the men to cut the hawsers and lower the boats to guide them through the harbor.

"Quickly and quietly men!" Dawser relayed Tr Dalon's orders. Dryea and Mari handed the reins over to one of the younger sailors who took the enervated horses to the ship's small stable. Then they mounted the stairs to greet their captain. The wind blew thunderously and the flags whipped and cracked.

"It's good to have you aboard Mistress Dryea," Captain Dalon said bowing respectfully. "And you Mistress Mari. Your company is always a pleasure. Make yourselves comfortable. Your quarters are adjacent from mine just below where I stand here. You should find things appropriate for a woman's stay on a ship. Your request is my command."

Dryea nodded her thanks and gazed out over the ship's stern as it sailed out of harbor. The wind caught her auburn hair and blew it magnificently about her as she watched the Morthaniawen's failure in conquering Gondor grow distant. Mari came and stood beside her then, her eyes hard and dark and wishing the same fate for the traitors to Umbar. Soon they'd have their vengeance and Gondor would be theirs at last!

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

10-08-2003, 07:28 PM

Elora's post

Ruiel swore plainly as she shook her booted foot free of the puddle she had been forced to leap into. The wagon clattered past, laden with vegetables, the driver not so much as glancing at the person he had nearly run down as he flicked the reins over the rumps of his horse team. Her lips twisted in disgust as the filthy water, oily and dirty, was shaken off. She tugged her hood down further and continued on with her head doggedly bowed.

She was late, on account of Dryea being missing from the Tower! Both daughters were traitors. The thought was sour in her stomach, along with the fact that maternal concern had made her a fool in going to fetch Dryea when she should have left her there. It would be the last time Ruiel ever gave any concern to a hide other than her own. The smell of the docks was redolent in the air. She was close now.

The cry of hawkers with all manner of intriguing wares that would be quickly tucked away at the merest sniff of the Steward's Guard or Customs Officers was everywhere. Ruiel ignored them all, her destination clearly in mind. She jostled and shouldered her way through the press, searching for the ship.

She found Captain Trelan in his customary guise as a civilian ship's master in short order. The dock would not be so crowded were he standing there in his true garb. He turned, shouting an order for the loading of cargo and stopped as Ruiel stepped forward. He smiled and nodded lightly to her.

"Something amusing Captain?" Ruiel was not in a humourous fram of mind.
"Only that I'm a good 3 gold wealthier than I was before seeing you."
"Gambling is a vice of these weak Gondorian rabble that will only lead you into disolute ways," Ruiel stated firmly. Trelan paid her no heed, familiar with Ruiel over many years now.

"Likely," he replied before calling for his First Mate. Eric loped down the boarding plank nimbly, noted Ruiel and then threw his arm back up in the direction of the horizon.

"There's people as you're already knowin' aship," he drawled.
"Eric," Captain Dalon mildly said. Eric scowled at the wooden dock planks.
"We're getting read to set to, C'ptan..." Ruiel left the pair to sort out whether Eric was good for the 3 gold he'd wagered on Ruiel emerging and alternative forms of payment.

Ruiel ascended the gangplank and stood in the prow, watching the departing ship. She'd sort out those passengers soon enough. The rattle of the anchor chain being wound chinked and wobbled as men cinched it up. Ruiel turned from her study and made her way through the tangle of ropes and men dashing about to get to their posts. Ruiel was below deck as she heard Eric call, "Slip the moors!"

Within the hour, she sat with her cloak removed in Trelan's quarters. The Corsair sat across from her, war hardened face speculative and his fingers steepled before him.

"Tell me Madame, how are your daughters?" Ruiel twirled the glass of thick Umbarian brandy in her fingers and only smiled.

"They are Morthaniawen, Captian. Therein lies your answer."

Trelan smiled back at the viper across from him and wondered how long it would be before one Morthaniawen asp claimed ascendancy. It would be a good fight, and he fancied Eric might find some more gold to wager. He raised his glass in salute at Umbar's longest serving spy and the woman that had been responsible for Trelan winning a handsom share of wagers and Eric's ongoing penury.

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Child of the 7th Age

10-09-2003, 11:18 PM

Several days later...

Two figures strode along the quay beside the Great River just as the first rays of the sun peeped over the horizon. The grey-cloaked, older man towered over his companion, but otherwise seemed of little consequence. Even the younger one looked utterly unprepossessing; he wore simple brown breeches, a shirt of natural homespun, and a pair of scuffed serviceable boots such as sailors use when they work at the docks. The men were deep in conversation. A few workmen glanced up as they walked by, but knew enough to draw away and respectfully avert their eyes, since they'd seen the pair several times before. No one really knew who the old gentleman was, but the identity of the Steward was all too evident, despite his simple garb.

The conversation had stopped and Eckthelion looked out over the water watching the gulls swoop down, as they skimmed just inches above the surface and hunted for their breakfast. The older man’s question abruptly broke through his reflection..."Did the bethrothal party go well?"

Eckthelion nodded his head, "Yes, that's behind us….the ridiculous rumors and the upturned noses. Now, they crowd around Finduilas, and vie for her favor. Even Denethor could not ask for more."

He paused for a moment and laughed slightly, “It’s strange, isn’t it? Most of those at the party have no idea what actually happened. They’ve only heard that false rumors were spread by the Lady Ruiel and Dryea, perhaps out of pique or some other personal motive.”

“But the women have disappeared,” Gandalf countered. “Surely someone will ask what’s happened.”

“Finduilas has dropped careful hints that the mother and eldest daughter chose to return home. Most assume that home is Dol Amroth, since they have no idea of the connection with Umbar. I doubt that many will pursue the subject further. And Alethea is helping us. Of all the sad stories in this affair, her’s is one of the saddest. To be so ill used by her family…. I have personally spoken with her, welcoming her to Minas Tirith, and have given her my assurance that we will do anything needed to help.”

Gandalf considered the Steward’s serious face and hesitated a moment before continuing, “But you are not content.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“No, I am not.” Eckthelion’s gaze swept the expanse of the river and would not meet Gandalf’s eyes.

“The womens’ escape?”

The Steward shook his head. “No. We might have expected that. They are devious ones, these agents of Umbar. I was disappointed that they got away but it is of no immediate consequence. More importantly, we dismantled their organization and rooted out the lesser agents. Their conduit for information has dried up, and they can no longer strike at the heart of our court. For that, I am grateful."

"I owe a special debt to the women, both those from Minas Tirith and Finduilas's own companions. It was they who picked up the first hint of this, and helped us to bag our prey.” He smiled thinking of his two lovely daughters and others like Lady Pelien, Adrama, Viena, Emilia, Averyll, and Diorwyn who’d worked so generously on behalf of their city. Then his face dropped again.

“But…..?” queried Gandalf, still probing for the root cause behind Eckthelion’s somber mood.

The Steward grimaced as the words tumbled out, “That was a costly mistake. We focused on chasing down the soldiers who’d escorted Dryea to prison instead of keeping our eyes on Rueil. We might at least have brought her to bay.”

“But there is more than that…”

Eckthelion nodded. “I was so sure,” he whispered under his breath, “so certain that a mother would help her daughter.”

“But she didn’t?” Gandalf queried, scouring the depths of Eckthelion’s eyes.

“No, she didn’t. She ran off without a look back.” The Steward shuddered and stared at the horizon, his voice dropping to a whisper, “How could a mother do that to a child she had born? How can I defeat men and women whom I can not even pretend to understand? They are so under the influence of Mordor that I even find it hard to see what paths they take in life.”

Eckthelion looked over at Gandalf, “Perhaps, that is the only way to win victory. To become like them, to think like them.”

The old man drew himself up to his full height, his eyes flashing with anger, “Do not deceive yourself, Steward. That way leads to doom. And remember this!” He turned around and directly confronted the younger man. “If you find it hard to understand the choices they make, they find it completely impossible to fathom your reason for doing things. What you choose is not what they would choose! Someday, somehow, that will help us. I do not know how or when, and you may already have passed beyond this world, but their lack of vision and imagination will someday prove to be their undoing.”

“Perhaps, you’re right, Gandalf.”

The tall figure nodded back. “In any case, how could the Steward of Gondor change so much that he would forget the ways of his ancestors from Numenor, to turn from his daughters and son and substitute coldness in his heart? I know you well enough, Eckthelion, and that would be truly an impossible task. Keep doing as you have done. You and those at your court, men and women both. You are preparing the soil for another day when the great conflict will come. Thank goodness you have people with good hearts and common sense. These so-called silly women have done Gondor a great honor, a lesson that may never be inscribed in your history book but one that will make a difference when the final day of reckoning comes.”

Eckthelion turned to Gandalf, hastily embraced him, and then stepped away. “Yes, we are fortunate to have citizens such as these. “ Then the two men walked further along the bank talking not of diplomacy or military matters but things like friendship and family that lie underneath it all, hoping for better times and wondering when and if they would possibly come.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]