[maikafanawen]

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 ]