Diorwyn looked around; her small room seemed so full! It was not merely that three visitors were more than it could comfortably accommodate; the very air seemed heavy with the rumours they discussed. She smiled at Averyll’s exclamation and said, “Muzzle the gossips! That is an enticing thought, but unfortunately, their words have already done considerable damage. Nothing we can say will change the opinions of the Minas Tirith nobility, but we can fight fire with fire.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Eleniel asked, puzzled.
“I mean, the only weapon we have to encounter the rumours is to start other rumours,” explained Diorwyn.
Betuli wondered, “How can we do that? We do not know any rumours about the people here that we could spread.”
“First we need to find out more about the Minas Tirith nobles,” the seamstress replied. “Who would profit from Finduilas’ ruined reputation? Let us try to get information discretely; I have some contacts in the city whom I can ask. Keep your eyes and ears open; when we know more, we will find a way to defend our princess.”
With a sparkle in their eyes and determination in their steps, the three young women left Diorwyn’s room to begin the task they had set themselves. Halfway down the hall, Betuli suddenly remembered the reason she had come to the seamstress. She hurried back to find Diorwyn standing in the doorway, holding her dress out to her. With a stammered “Thank you!”, the maid turned to carry the repaired clothing to her room.
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'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The whole history of Middle-earth.. .'
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