[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

"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?
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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 ]