[maikafanawen]

Wren ran the length of the garden to the back kitchen door, soaked to the bone, her blue dress dragging along behind her. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been so angry. Fool! was all she could think. Fool, fool, “Fool!” she said that last word out loud.

“I beg your pardon miss!” said Minstria coming up behind her. Wren whirled, her loose hair sticking to her face.

“You were eavesdropping too? I’ll bet you and Jyrian were in cahoots!” her blue eyes were dark and she was getting extremely edgy. Lightening lit up the stairwell before her, along with Minstria’s face which was twisted into a bemused smirk.

“Indeed!” insisted the maid. “It’s not my business what goes on inside—or outside—these walls but when two people are shouting in the gardens at this time of night I can only stop and listen to see what all the hubbub is about!” Stamping her foot again, Wren ran up the back stairs to her room.

“Evening miss,” acknowledged a servant, exiting a room a few doors down. The noblewoman ignored him and burst into her room where her mother was waiting expectantly.

“I’ve a good mind to throw him out!! He doesn’t deserve the hospitality of the Chambrias!!” screeched Wren. Tearing off her jewelry and pulling down her hair so ferociously that Minstria, who had followed her up, had to wrestle her down.

“Are you quite finished?” reproached Doralyn. Wren scowled, but stopped her bantering. “Even when you are angry, Wren, you must keep your wits about you. By yelling you only made that young man angrier.” Incredulous to what she was hearing she turned towards her mum.

“Dear Eru is there anyone who did mind their own business tonight?”

“I’d be amazed if there was a person in this house who didn’t hear you my dear,” Doralyn answered, playing idly with the hem of her robe’s sleeve. Her daughter glowered.

“Besides the fact that you so enjoy chastising me, is there any other reason you were waiting in my room?”

“Yes, but my dear you’re aura is so disturbed I have forgotten it. I’ll speak with you in the morning, or whenever you have calmed down.” With that she left the noblewoman’s room, slamming the double doors behind her.

“Oooh that woman!” Wren said through clenched teeth. “This is how she welcomes me home!”

“No, she’s planning a ball in your honor. For your safe return that is,” said Minstria, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Really!? Can anyone do anything around here without have a ball dedicated to it!”

“But my dear you love balls!” the maid adopted a mocking tone.

“Hush old woman. I know what I like and don’t like!”

“After tonight, so does the rest of the household, good evening.” Wren was a short way from exploding as she watched Minstria leave her room, not bothering to turn down the covers or do any of her usual duties. Jumping up from her vanity stool, the noblewoman ran to her bed and buried her head in one of the satin pillows screaming loud and long.

The night had ended so poorly that Wren would have been content to fall asleep in her soaked and dirty dinner clothes. But there were a few things she wanted to see to right away. She dressed in a comfortable skirt of red and cream velour with embroidered floral patterns on it, and a loose, gauzy cotton, cream coloured tunic that she belted around the mid section with a red sash. Wren brushed her hair quickly and braided it down her back. Then, slipping into a pair of black house slippers she crept from the room, and down the halls to her father’s study.

He was still awake when she got there, and had to hide behind a wall tapestry until he left. When he did, she let herself in, careful not to make any noise alerting the servants. The walls were lined with books, a few swords, and many portraits and busts of relatives or historical figures. A large mahogany desk sat in the middle of the back of the room, underneath a huge window that took up most of the wall. Behind it was a plush chair studded with gold nail-heads and covered in dark blue velour.

Wren moved silently to the desk, opening one of the bottom drawers and taking out a single candle and holder. After a bit of trouble lighting it, she began searching for the records book that held the information she sought. It was a large, 8 x 12 size book, bound in a rough, weather proof leather material with gold embossing on the front that said: Chambria Merchants and their Ships. The data therein detailed every voyage taken on every ship in her father’s service. It listed the crews, and captains and any kind of weather they did—or did not—withstand.

She searched for the better part of an hour before coming across it finally in the top shelf of one of the largest bookshelves. Wren stood atop the ladder, balancing the candle on the rung parallel to her chin with one hand and removing the log with the other. Wobbling slightly she descended the ladder and laid the book on a waist-high table. The noblewoman flipped to the back and ran her finger down the date list. The last ship to dock was The Silver Wyrm. It had had a successful voyage and was now harboured in Harlond. The only damage it had collected was a tear in the mainsail, an impairment easily repaired. She clicked her tongue trying to put her idea into a working condition.

She made her way to the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, laying it on the desk, and produced a quill. Dipping it into the ink jar she sketched out her idea on the paper.

“We’ll need a crew,” she whispered to herself, “along with a captain. Oh, provisions as well. Food, weapons, necessities for repairs... They will need new clothes I’ll bet. We can buy them in town. But where am I going to get the rest?” She slumped back in the chair, searching her mind for someone she knew that could help... Suddenly, Wren thought of just the right person. Excited, she stuffed the parchment into her pocket and put the log back in its place. Dousing the candle, she replaced it in the drawer along with the others and went back to her room.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Morning came very soon, and Wren Chambria was at breakfast before the others, dressed in grey riding breeches tucked into a pair of black boots with slight heels, and a stylish blue jerkin, very out of the ordinary from the dresses she would usually wear. Her father joined her soon and Wren told him of her idea. He turned the idea over carefully in his mind before agreeing.

“I take it that you’re deciding to stay on with the company?” he mentioned, before taking a slow drink of his tea.

“What made you think I was going to do otherwise?” Wren huffed, dropped her fork with a clamour. Her father smiled.

“It’s about time.” At the sight of her daughter in leggings and a tunic, stylish, yet a tunic none the less, Doralyn dropped the book she was holding as she entered the dinning area, ready for her morning meal.

“Are y-you going somewhere dear?” she stammered, gaping openly at her daughter’s ensemble. Wren barely looked her mother’s way before cramming the rest of the toast into her mouth, and downing the last of her milk.

“Yep. Got lots to do if we’re to leave tomorrow!” She kissed her mum on the cheek before grabbing her cloak of the chair and leaving the room to find Rangar.

“We?” Doralyn asked, turning towards Mauriace who smiled his 'I-knew-she'd-come-around' fatherly smile at her. He beckoned for her to take a seat.

"I'll explain."

"You had better," sais Mrs. Chambria, seating herself so quickly, the air left the cushioned seat in a loud pop.

Rangar was with the rest of the company who had more or less gathered in a comfortable sitting room, some reading, some talking quietly with one another.

“Rangar,” said Wren from behind. He turned a bit startled at her sudden appearance. “Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded, following her out of the room and more towards the servant quarter’s part of the house. “Okay, I have a way we can get to Harad. My father owns a few merchant ships that dock in Harlond’s harbours for the autumn and winter seasons. I did a bit of research last night and spoke with my father this morning, he thinks it’s okay.” She stopped, waiting for Rangar to reply. He looked at her expectantly, eyebrow’s raised.

“What’s okay?”

“Oh, right. That we go to Harad by way of ship!” To say that Rangar stumbled at the mention of this would be an understatement. He down right collapsed, his knees gave plumb out. Wren stifled a laugh before helping him up. It took the better part of an hour to convince him it was a good idea, but finally he consented and decided it was rather clever.

“Great,” said Wren after Rangar nodded his head in final agreement. “You tell the rest and I’ll start making the final plans and arangements.”

“Fine, but, take someone with ye.” Wren shot him a ‘you-be-careful’ look, and retreated down the hallway to get her things ready for her ride.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]