[maikafanawen]

Wren ran to her room and threw open the doors collapsing onto the circular bed before the middle of the northern wall. The servants opened the curtains, and the light from the magnificent sunset poured in, alighting the crown molding, and fanciful array of pictures on her walls. Servants began bustling around, filling her wash basin with steaming water and airing out a selection of dinner dresses.

The noblewoman stripped off her traveling clothes and jumped into the bubbling tub, splashing water all over her maid.

“Sorry Minstria!” she laughed. The old maid just wrinkled her nose and laid two fluffy blue towels on a stool beside the tub.

“Don’t get me wrong miss,” she said airily. “I am very glad you’re back safe and sound, but those few weeks with you gone were very peaceful.” Wren threw back her head and laughed as Minstria winked and backed out of the room, closing the doors behind her. The noblewoman could have soaked in the tub all night, but she was very anxious for some of Yuldevia’s and her assistant’s cooking.

It took the better part of an hour to get ready after her bath. She chose a rather simple pale blue gown adorned with pearls and lace over which she wore a sheer shawl that draped over and around her shoulders and fell down her back, floating along behind her. Minstria put her hair up in an assortment of ringlets, interwoven with matching pale blue ribbon. Wren refused cosmetics for she was enjoying the clean, airy sensation on her face after the bath. Slipping on a satin pair of slippers, she met Rave, Aerin, Énien, and Carmalita on the landing before entering the dining hall. Each looked so splendidly attired in borrowed gowns of reds, greens, and in Rave’s case, a sultry violet, Wren wished that they all were sisters and would be present for the Autumn masquerade.

“You would be the highlight of the party!” she insisted as they walked towards the dining room.

“Dinner awaits you,” said Guston, one of the butlers. The doors opened and the women entered the room, skirts swishing, and jewels sparkling from the lights of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and candelabras that stood on either side of the door and under each window. As they were escorted to their seats, Wren couldn’t help but snigger good-naturedly at Bregand’s open staring towards Carmalita. Aerin caught her eye and they both turned away, chuckling madly.

“Here you are.” Wren sat down gracefully in a chair at the end of the table beside her mother, next to Rave and—to her bewilderment—across from Turthôl. Rangar was beside him and to Mauriace’s left.

The courses were superb, and conversation was light and merry. At one point, Turthôl took to asking Wren an innocent question every time she tried to take a bite of a particular delicious looking entrée. The nostalgic noblewoman didn’t catch on until Rangar started laughing madly. Realizing the joke, she flicked a sprout across the table that hit Turthôl square on his nose. He moved to counter-attack but thought better of it as Mauriace shot a reproving look towards Wren.

Domnian had joined them as well and was ironically seated across from Rave. The two had struck up an intelligent conversation about horses. Wren was surprised to see how much he knew about the Rohirrm and its history. A bit suspicious she turned back to the conversation she was having with her mother.

“And the scout just left you in Bree?”

“No mum, I let him go as we entered it thinking that I wouldn’t need him, I was pretty sure I could find the inn on my own. Then Mr. Butterbur gave me the letter from Mr. Frethryr saying they’d cancelled the meeting and moved it back to Minas Tirith in December,” said Wren, gesturing emphatically at the extremity of her situation. Doralyn took a dainty sip of wine and nodded sympathetically towards her daughter.

“So! If it weren’t for the goodness of Rangar—” Wren cut her mother off with a sharp shake of her head, before quickly changing the subject.

“OH! Did you see the horse Turthôl brought back for me when we were in Tharbad?? I named him Culfin. It means ‘golden-red hair’ in elvish. Énien told me. Isn’t he beautiful?” The end of the table was then plunged into the story of the stay at Tharbad. Turthôl entertained them about his experience as a waiter and the interesting people that passed through the trading town that time of year. Wren coughed loudly at the mention of Gina, excusing herself modestly.

To Wren’s relief, Mauriace didn’t ask of Rangar’s purpose or where it was that he was headed. Her father was a very clever man, and Wren knew that he probably sensed the uneasiness within his guest, knowing better than to ask.