Beruthiel turned her silver fork between shaking fingers, before burying the tines deep in her desert pastry. "What a delightful child." she stated, the sarcasm in her voice evident to all present. The assembled family had been rather silent since Earnil's sudden departure, and Beruthiel's comment only made a small dent in the uncomfortable silence. The child's behavior almost pleased her, in its insolence. How obviously fitting for this transplanted heir to act so unused to royal manners and customs.
She swirled the fork through the insides of the pastry, mixing the creamy sauce with the red juices of the berries inside. The resulting pink crept across her plate in a rather unattractive rivulet. The queen stared at this, trying to keep her composure as Tarannon uttered the words she knew were coming.
He was going to adopt Earnil as his legal heir. The title of "prince" was going to fall on the boy officially, the whole of Gondor was to know that Beruthiel's hopes of her own child were all and finally over. She stiffened in her chair, stirring the pastry frantically. She clenched her teeth tightly, even though she knew the action caused her jaw muscles to bulge unattractively.
If she could only last a few more minutes, she thought desperately, the whole dinner would be over. Letting Tarannon's words wash over her, she sat staring at the pale sauce and the red fruit juice running across her plate in ugly pink streaks. A few moments and she could return to her chambers and block out her unhappiness, block out the faces of these proud parents whose fawning smiles looked forward to a faraway coronation that would now surely happen. The Queen tightened her jaws further.
The King finished speaking, and the heavy silence settled on the room again. Beruthiel stood, unable to stand the bright smiles of Tarciryan and his wife, and the indulgent satisfied look on her husband's face. "If we are finished here, I think I'll bid you farewell," she said, tipping her head toward the King, then to his brother. "My presence certainly isn't necessary with the future King to entertain us. Perhaps if you threaten the hound he could be persuaded to dance?" Her eyebrows raised delicately, she spun on her heel and left the room, leaving a flustered Morwen to bite back her curses and follow.
[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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