[Manardariel]

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 ]