[GaladrieloftheOlden]

Hessa raced gaily down the stairs, skipping every other step and raising her dress just a little, so that the hem would not trail on the dirty flooring. Stopping at the doorway, she picked up a basket that stood in a niche in the wall, catching a glance at herself in the broken glass next to her. She put down the basket again, pausing for a moment to peer at herself critically, and then, picking it up again, opened the door quietly and half ran outside.

There, the sun was shining brightly in the bright sky, coming through the billowy white clouds which peppered it. She squinted as she looked at it, and then, slowing down her pace to a sedate step, which, she deemed, was more proper than her joyful dash of the minute before. Walking down the street, she looked up cheerfully, seeing only the hopefully enjoyable trip to the market in her mind, having long ago learned to disgreagard the grimy cobblestones of the street and the pasty faces pressed against the second floor windows.

Soon the street widened, seeming to grow from a thin alleyway to a broad courtyeard in minutes. It became cleaner, if only slightly, and the noises changed from the hushed ones Hess had been hearing only a few minutes before to the shrill tones of bargaining traders and customers, the shriller ones of aging matrons, the animated ones of flirting young women, rough ones of tipsy young men... here, the crying of an infant, there, a groan.

Hessa smiled slightly. This was the world she knew and enjoyed living in. She stopped for a moment, her hand suspended in midair, the empty basket dangling on her arm. So unlike the world I do live in most of the time, she thought. But, guiltily, she added, her lips shaping the words: But my mother holds me to that world, and for her I will be a part of it... And, throwing off all serious thoughts, she craned her neck over to the left, rising on her tip-toes to try to see over the heads of the taller people in the crowd that she had wandered into, finally catching view of a clique of girls she knew, and remembering where they sat as she walked on to the screaming vendors.

When Hess re-emerged from the crowd, her basket and her ears were full, and she looked decidedly more lively. Mulling over the latest gossip and news in her head, she let herself drift towards the group she had spotted earlier, realizing that it had grown significantly since then, now accomodating quite a few acquaintances of hers, most of whom waved cheerily to her as she joined into the circle, a few glaring icily from under daintily lowered eyelashes.

She was introduced to a few obviously drunk young men and women, and some other characters who lurked rather quietly at the back of their group, all of this with the noisiness and boistierousness characteristic to all of Hess’s “marketplace friends.” She listened, smiling, laughing, flirting, adding a comment here and there, to the chatter and gossip of her various “associates,” as she jokingly called them sometimes.

Suddenly, she caught a clip of serious conversation among the gossip and humorous chat. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she cocked her head, as daintily as she could, towards the source of these sounds. Her eyebrows raised, she leaned in, making a path between some already half-reclining young not-quite-gentlemen with glazed eyes, who stared after her for a moment, which at any other time she would have found flattering… but now, she was completely absorbed in what her friend was saying. “Jerel,” she asked, “could you start again? I’m afraid I missed the beginning of your story.” Smiling good-naturedly, he did so.

She had heard enough after a minute, and, excusing herself quickly, hugging Jerel, and was hurrying back home, her nails digging into her palms, leaving dark scratches behind them. What is this? she wondered. Will there be a revolt? What could the consequences of a bar brawl realistically be? But it was a Gondorian death... Her lip curved into an ironic smile as she visualized what the pay-off for a Corsair death would be. A small trial, perhaps? A jail sentence of a few years? But here... she shuddered to think what hell could break loose. The corsairs might suffer... and, of course, there was nothing she could do against it anyway. Perhaps she should have stayed and heard the rest of the city gossip, instead of mulling unnecessarily against events she had no power to change...

She jerked slightly as she realized she had reached her own doors. Walking in, she remembered that she had left her basket back at the market. Would Mother yell? She winced. It hurt her when she yelled, mostly because she could see the effort it took… She walked in, knocking on her mother’s door. “Mama?” she called. No reply. She knocked again, calling louder. Ah well, perhaps she had fallen asleep...I’ll go straighten the covers, maybe... Hess opened the door, blinking, trying to get used to the barely lit room. Something looked a bit wrong... as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and circles swirled away in her head, she realized that her mother was lying at a terribly odd angle on the bed, her breathing shallow, her eyes closing and opening too fast... she ran towards her, uneasy, and grabbed her mother’s hands, breathing a sigh of relief when she realized that they were still warm, and there was a pulse. Pushing her under the covers, almost roughly, she half slid down the wall, her head resting against the thankfully cool metal of the mirror-grame. What am I to do? she wondered. What now?

[ November 06, 2003: Message edited by: GaladrieloftheOlden ]