[Elora]

With Alethea notable arrival, more than fashionably late, Ruiel supressed her grimace at her younger daughter's inability to contain her opinions. Must she always wear them on her sleeve, Ruiel wondered in exasperation. When Adrama and Alethea left to make a hopefully better acquaintance, Ruiel was left to explain Alethea's blatant sarcastic rudeness to Pelien. It was not a position Ruiel relished, explaining anything to Pelien.

"Impetuousness of youth, " Ruiel began as Pelien levelled a somewhat offended smile at her. Pelien sniffed in reply, lifting her chin somewhat. "Still, such youthful exuberance when moulded by a firm hand can make a woman her fortune." Ruiel smiled, to soften the blow of her reference to Morthaniawen's vast wealth. Pelien, not wishing to get into a contest of economic capacity, lowered her chin somewhat.

"Perhaps the charm and refinement of your sweet Adrama will have a positive effect on my youngest daughter. Example is a powerful teacher." Pelien nodded, casting a long look at where their daughter's sat in conversation, wondering which trait would rub off on whom. Ruiel took that opportunity to allow Pelien to see to her other guests. Dryea was chatting amicably with Elena.

Ruiel caught the look her older daughter sent to her across the room. Elena looked to be discussing something of fascination, her wrapt expression gilding her young features. The rumours were drifting around the room. Finduilias was not who she said she was. Finduilias was hiding something. Ranne slipped in discreetly, cheeks flushed from having run to attend and possibly from selecting the most trustworthy porter for their luggage.

Ruiel noted her presence and allowed herself to be stopped by the same woman whom had spoken to her at breakfast.

"I cannot bear it any long, Lady Morthaniawen! I have to know what she is hiding!"

The woman gripped the porcelain saucer of her tea cup tightly as though she'd fly apart if it slipped from her hands. An highly strung woman, Ruiel had picked her mark well. She was well known within Minas Tirith as having a loose tongue, but few could censure her for her talk. Her connections by marriage were such that she was an untouchable gossip. She was tolerated, barely, at the best of times.

However, with the rumours concerning Finduilias, those who had avoided her at all costs now hung on her words. She was the centre of attention. Led carefully, she would take credit for the "truth" and any retaliation should it be discovered as the lies it was would fall on her shoulders. Even in that case, Minas Tirith and her nobles would be free one gossip: a most pleasing outcome.

Ruiel smiled benevolently at the woman who clutched her arm a little too tightly. How the saucer must feel between her pinscer grip! She stiffened her arm in the manner that her husband said felt like her flesh had turned to ice. Disapproval at the overfamiliar touch radiated from Ruiel, and the gossip released her when she realised what she had done. Noone laid hands on the Lady Morthaniawen. As her face fell a little, Ruiel let her think she had offended her only source of continued popularity. When Ruiel spoke kindly, if somewhat exasperated, to her, she all but quivered with relief and renewed excitement.

"Surely one so knowledgeable as you would know," Ruiel purred as she smoothed her skirts like they were ruffled feathers. "With your experience and intimate acquaintance of those noble born, you know that there are some families whose prestige shines bright and clear. Your own, for example."

"Yes, yes, yours too," the other replied hastily. "Go on," she urged. Ruiel had her on the hook well and truly now.

"There are some who whilst great are not so highly thought of," Ruiel continued as the woman impatently nodded. "And there are some that are tolerated simply out of politeness."

"Yes, I know that," the woman said. Of course she did. She made it her business to know who did what to whom and why that either elevated their status or ensured it sank into oblivion of commonality.

"But there is only one who is of royal lineage, yet is despised by all." Ruiel watched the woman's mind wheel and spin so quickly that smoke would surely start to waft from her ears. Dawning realisation replaced her earlier impatience.

"Really," she said with wide eyes.
"It lies not to me to reveal such painful secrets," Ruiel replied.
"No, no, of course not. Oh how terrible!" The glee in her eyes suggested exactly the contrary.
"I really must get some more tea, if you will excuse me. Please do pass on my regards to your husband and son," Ruiel said. The other woman spared her having to remember their insignificant names. She was frantic to tell all who would listen her terrible, entertaining, fascinating news. Ruiel left her to it, face serene, as the gossip throw the lie so hard into the pool that the ripples virtually knocked all the guests off their feet.

It was fortuitous that Pelien had the foresight to provide so many chairs, mismatched as they were. Ruiel had a new cup of wretched tea poured for her by a passing maid and held herself aloof from the spreading rumour. Ranne was on the other side of the room, she noted. Eventually the rumour came back to Ruiel.

"Such a terrible thing. Are you sure she is Ar-Pharazon's kin," she asked sadly shaking her head. The reply was predictable. It was gossip and sheer conjecture. Of course it was true.