[Bêthberry]

Truly this was the most splendidly and luxuriously and uxoriously appointed city in Topfloorien. The members of the fellow/ galship became awed as they rose up to the great penthouse flet in the great city of Careless Gardenhon, rising 3/5 of a mile in 10 seconds whether by running up the elegant staircase or rising in the guilded cage.

They entered a chamber illuminated by roving strobe lights and lava lamps, decorated with many couches and pillows and attended by many handbunnies who Holdit whispered were the White Hares, attired in strange fluffs of white with black bows around their necks. Truly, this was another side of life.

There, on great pillows, sat the Lady of Careless Gardenhon and her consort, Celery. She rose to greet the fellow/ galship, tall and stately, robed gloriously in what might have resembled a white peignoir if some were so inclined towards that persuasion. Celery rose immediately after her and one handbunny, Aliciel, hopped up to measure that he followed the requisite two paces behind the not-Queen Saladriel. He stood smilingly to accept her ministrations and then walked behind Saladriel, his hands held behind his back. Both the Lord and Lady looked ageless, as if D'orien Grey had designed their mirror, although in the depth of their eyes were lances and wells of deep meaning that could signify only coming and knowing and getting and spending all those years in the finest pentflet shops of Topfloorien.

Holdit brought Merisuwyniel and Pimpiowyn forward to meet the couple. "Come beside me," said Celery eagerly, "and when all have come we will speak together."

"You are rash indeed to say that thing, Celery, however long you have longed for this long feat," said Saladriel, speaking for the first time. Her voice was enticing and mesmerizing, weaving images and ideas which fed everyone's head. But perhaps that was the effect of the herbal lembrownies which the handrabbits were passing around. Or the sudden strange heat which accompanied the arrival of Chrysophylax. Then she greeted each of the companions courteously by name.

"Halfullion, by your name, one might expect half so much as I have found, although the ways of your sword and hair were hidden from me until you entered Topfloorien."

"Orogarn Two, son of Orogarn One, son of The Orogarn Jr., son of The Orogarn, son of Garn Eight, son of Garn Seven, son of Kevin, son of Garn Six, and several more generations, where do you buy your vestments and lovely attire? We have none like that although we have the finest shops here in Topfloorien. Surely you will rest here awhile and share your wardrobe secrets with me."

"Lord Earnur Etceteron, your manly manners and habits are most welcome here. Perhaps we can later discuss recipes for salad ingredients." So saying, Saladriel helped herself to one of the lembrownies and offerred him another.

"Vogonwë, airhead poet, it's no secret that you will enjoy the Airplane music which wafts through our trees. I'm sure you will find somebody to love your poetry here."

"Pimpiowyn, half-halfling darling, we have plastic fantastic food here for your delight should you become tired of the more vegetative comestibles we have here."

Saladriel then looked at the surly pectoral delver, Kuruharan. "I do not repent of our welcome to the Dwarf." And the dwarf, hearing the name given him in the ancient tongue, immediately began calculating what profitable exchanges could be made from the commerce here.

"One is not here who set out with you. He has fallen into the lower end of the rag trade. I did not know that his plight was so secondhand. Perhaps it is just as well, though, for those who rummage cannot be said to appreciate our high end transactions in Careless Gardenhon."

Finally, Saladriel faced Merisuwyniel. "Your quest is known to us here, and by your bow and your best arrows with the golden heads, I will speak with you, but not here so openly. Your quest stands on the rim of your quivers but I will speak not as a counsellor to you, but only as one who knows how the garden may be tended."

Then Saladriel held them all with her eyes and in silence looked knowingly at them. None save Kuruharan and Pimpiowyn could endure her glance without blushing and then at length she released them from her eyes.

"Let not your hearts be troubled. Here, you shall find a peace. You will rest amid the soft couches while the stars begin to prick through the sky and the moon gropes her way through the night's charms and our sweet verse tantalize the air."

With those remarks Saladriel and her consort removed to their pillows to admire the living quality of the bole of the tree upon which the pentflet stood. In the background could be heard a puckish voice proclaiming with all mock solemnity:

The not-queen holds her revels here
For they who work must also play.
So hold your tongue you who would jeer
And let the purist look away.
A merry prankster of the night
Shall come and be a teasing wight
And to that special, perilous sight
Shall play a game of mixed delight.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]