[Belin]

Celumëomaryu carefully made her way up the stairs. She had some private rules that prevented her from disregarding the architecture of the castle as some others did. Specific spaces were designated for her pacing; eliminating the walls as barriers would have left her wandering through the building with no aim and no chance to turn around, either physically or in her thoughts, and that way madness lay. At this time of day, she ought to be threading her way around bookshelves in the library, up one aisle, down the next, left at the window and right at the door, but the sound of breaking dishes had lured her downstairs. Real work came seldom, and pacing could wait.

Tella was taking a moment to rest, staring down at all the shards that were left. Celumëomaryu peered into the dustpan, only to find that the foolish girl had emptied it already.

“Tella!” she said. She clung to the use of her voice as much as possible, and even now, when, for all practical purposes, it didn’t work at all, she insisted upon moving her lips as she mind-spoke. Her envy of Maladil’s ability to scream, moan and wail was boundless, but mind-speech was effective in any case. The girl turned.

I’m cleaning, Celumëomaryu.

“A commendable occupation.” The slight overtone of irony was lost on the girl, but maybe that was just another unfortunate side-effect of mind-speech. “How much have you cleaned?”

I’ve been busier sweeping the dishes than counting them, if that’s what you mean.

Celumëomaryu sighed, and drifted grandly to the other side of the room. She kept a record of all the dishes the castle had ever ordered in her evidently infinite memory, and was prepared to count them herself. She was satisfied, in a way—here was a task that might keep her busy for hours. However, after only a moment, she turned in astonishment.

“Is there a whole set missing?”

Tella stared at her as if she were raving. What are you doing?

“What does it look like? I have to calculate the costs of this for Maladil.”

Do you suppose he cares? He broke these dishes himself, you know. It’s just as likely he’ll break more tomorrow, costs or no.

“And what do I care what he cares? Somebody needs to make sure that things are done properly, and if Maladil is too---well. If Maladil won’t do it, I will.”

Tella sighed.

“He’d better not break any more dishes, either. What are we to eat from, I ask you?”

And she buried herself in her task, ignoring the fact that the provoking girl seemed to be laughing at her.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[ November 19, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]