Corsairs and Corsets RPG

[Arien]

Alethea climbed the grand stairs to her room. As she was walking down the corridor that lead off to the left she past Meirelle, who had just finished putting her things back into her bedroom, she smiled and nodded at the maid as she past and was met by the same. She kept heading towards her bedroom, but as she reached the magnificent double doors leading into it she veered off to the right and came face to face with a large book shelf. Alethea stepped forward and ran her hand along the middle row stopping at a red leather bound book. She pulled it out carefully supporting its weight with her other hand, the other books slid to take its place. She carried the book into her room, kicking the door shut behind her. She dropped the book on to her desk and sat herself down in the chair beside it. Alethea stared in the mirror across the small room.

This room was quiet small, and she never really used it at all. It was decorated with neutral colours, very plain and there was almost no furniture. Just a desk, a smallish double bed, a unused fire place, a wardrobe and a couple of chairs. Of course this was not her real room, her real room was concealed from any visitors she may have. And although her mother insisted that it was pointless Alethea having her room concealed as no one but herself should be entering her room, there were certain thing that she preferred to keep to herself. Plus you could never be too careful.

Alethea opened the book to reveal what seemed like a normal book except for the key hidden in the spine. She picked up both the key and the book and made her way to the wardrobe. She slid the key into the lock on the front. She opened the door while carefully balancing the book in her other hand and stepped through into her actually room. The door shut automatically behind her and she heard the click of the lock. Now this was more like it, seven marble steps lead down the floor, her room was open planned except for the washroom. This made her room extremely big. It took up nearly all of the west wing of their estate and was decorated in an Umbrian high class fashion. Lavish gold, and bronze material hung from the glorious windows which were across the wall facing the entrance to her room. Along the wall to her right were bookshelves which contained books on weaponry, to Elvish Lore, from tactical study books to herb lore. She had read most already and was aware of many of the cultures that surrounded her, as well as her own and her adopted one.

A little on from the book shelves were various cupboards that contained maps of Middle Earth, an assortment of poisons, herbs and weapons. The weapons consisted mainly of crafted daggers and knives as Alethea saw no need to carry other such weapons around with her unless she were to carry a sword underneath her corset! But in truth she was not too skilled in combat, she could maybe fight if she had to but Alethea preferred to stick to the more conventional method of fighting with her mind. After that came an assortment of comfortable chairs that were placed neatly around small tables.

And so directly opposite her was a grand fireplace, with its fire already burning. To her left was a marvellous four post king sized bed draped with bronze and gold fabric and a muslin bedspread. And all around the room was watched by huge paintings of Corsair heroes and noble women who were just like her mother, sister and herself. She wondered to the bed and threw down to book with its key. She walked into the washroom which had no windows but was dimly lit by the small fire place in one corner. She drew a bath for herself even though it was not even early evening yet. She climbed into the bath which was full to the brim with warm water and soap bubbles.

Now her thoughts trailed to Adrama who she had met earlier that day. The girl seemed much like her self, personality wise and she was excited to meet her again and discuss more why she did not like Findulas. Alethea had also said to that she too hated Findulas. Whether she had said it to encourage their friendship or whether she actually hated her was not yet decided on. But Alethea imagined that Adrama might be an asset, not as a device to use but maybe as a friend. She set in her mind that after she had bathed she would make her way outside to find Mierelle and bid her send a message to Adrama so they could meet the next day, in the public garden which was situated only a few minutes away from them both.

[Everdawn]

Vieana was not in the best of moods. "Why would servants spread such things? Whatever happened to the good old days when servants kept things to themselves, Finduilas is after all, a guest."
she looked up at the others, Im beginning to think Minas Tirith isnt what we think it is after all."

Averyll put her hands on her hips. "You always see the best in everything, Sometimes it can cloud your intuition Vieana."

"What about Diorwyn, and Betuil? Perhaps we can set them amongst the Minas Tirith servants to seek deeper? Betuli especially, you know you can always count on her.?"

Vieana gazed out the window "And the guards, they know! Thats why they were so hostile, and untrusting. Oh i knew something was wrong! Diddnt I tell you Elen! We can try to get the guards to do some investigating of their own. I dont like the idea of scuffles between the Dol Amroth guards and Minas Tirith guards, if that hostility continues i may have to write to my husband." She concluded.

[elven maiden Earwen]

“We have to figure out who’s starting these rumors” Elen, couldn’t take it. She thought in going to Minas Tirth she could escape her sister and start a whole new life in a wonderful city. But that’s definitely not how it turned out. Minas Tirth was a cold stone city. People were hostile to her and anyone from Dol Amroth. Eleniel snapped out of her thoughts and looked up to see a few people giving the group strange looks, probably wondering what they were talking about.

“I think we should discuss this in our rooms” she said standing up and walking slowly out of the room making sure that everyone else followed her.

Once inside the safety of the rooms the ladies began to talk again. Eleniel was so frustrated by all these rumors. She couldn’t think of what to do about them. The only thing she knew she needed to do was keep them from Finduilas and Tessa too.

“Well, we can’t rely on Diorwyn and Betuli alone. I think its time to do a little visiting on our own.” Averyll said with a gleam in her eyes.

[ August 06, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[alaklondewen]

After the Luncheon...

Pelien sighed with relief as she watched the last of her guests depart. The luncheon had provided a nice time for visiting with the ladies, but she was glad it was all over. What the younger ladies discussed concerning Finduilas’ identity and ancestry had given her much to think about. The idea of the Steward’s family not knowing the lady’s full history seemed a bit unrealistic, but if Finduilas’ name could be scarred in some way, the family might get rid of her anyway.

As her daughter questioned her thoughts, Pelien thought it best to agree with the expressed doubts. She, of all people, would not want to stand up for that wretched little princess, even to Adrama.

Pelien walked slowly deep in thought as she returned to her bedroom. Sador would be home soon, and she wasn’t sure what to tell him yet. On one hand, she’d love to share the new information concerning Finduilas with her husband, but on the other hand, she knew he wouldn’t stand for that kind of rumor coming from his wife. Maybe she should wait for him to hear it elsewhere…yes, then she would be so surprised when he told her. A clever smile crept across her face. She hated keeping things from Sador, but sometimes a man just can’t handle some information like a woman can.

Once in her private rooms, Pelien freshened up a bit before changing into a more casual, simple dress. She checked her reflection once more before going back down the stairs to ensure that the servants were cleaning up after the ladies. Pelien would not stand for a house that was anything less than immaculate.

An hour later, the front door opened and Pelien watched her weary soldier slip quietly through the door. She sat in her favorite chair in the sitting room and waited for him to find her. Sador unconsciously smiled when his eyes met his wife's, and Pelien stood to meet him. Rummel came and took his rolled up guard’s uniform to clean, and Sador crossed the room with his head tipped to one side.

“How was your day, Dear?” Pelien loved this time of day when Sador came home, but she masked her joy in a serious, unfeeling tone.

“It’s much better now,” Sador said as he kissed his wife on the cheek. Then without warning he hugged his wife and picked her up swinging her in a circle. Pelien was horrified and smacked at his back trying to get down. Sador just laughed and set her down.

“Sador! Wh..I never!” Being out of breath, Pelien could not verbalize the indignity she felt, so she straightened her skirt and hair and stormed away.

[Novnarwen]

After a hard day at work Sador finally reached the door, he gave a soft knock before entering. He was glad to finally get home, and eager to hear how his wife's luncheon had been. Pelien sat in her favourite chair by the window. He crossed the room, smiling at her while she rised to meet him.

“How was your day, Dear?” His wife asked him in a sweet caring voice. He looked at her in admire and happiness. She was truly a great wife.

“It’s much better now,” he said giving her a kiss on the cheek. As he held her he just had to hug her. Sador felt the warmth from her body to his. Oh Pelien, he thought while picking her up from the floor swinging her in a circle. Her horrified reaction made Sador laugh.

“Sador! Wh..I never!” she said being totally out of breath. She liked it,
Sador thought, while watching her walk swiftly away. Her husband followed her.

"How did the Luncheon go?" he asked trying to be serious. She looked up at him, giving him an of-course-it-went-well look.

"It went well," she said giving a sigh.

Sador remained silent for a moment, trying to figure out if she wore a mask. "Are you sure, you seem..." He was interrupted.

"Of course I am sure. All my luncheons go well. They are my luncheons, you see." Pelien opened her mouth once again. "It was very nice, actually, it was splendid. Elegant, sophisticated, tremendous, fantastic...." This time it was Sador's turn to interrupt her.

"Are you sure? You have said it was nice in many ways now," Sador assured her.

Pelien stood stricken by his statement but reassured him that it was absolutely fine.
Sador however, thought it weird that his wife had seemed so eager to let him know that all was fine. His wife was good at these luncheons, but never before had she said something like this. There was something wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, Sador thought. Just something unusual. He stirred at her, watching her trying to see signs of something unexpected. Nothing.

"Okay then," he said taking a step forwards kissing her again on the cheek. "What did you talk about then?" he asked trying to read her mind. Pelein started muttering about Finduilas and Denethor. "Just the usual," she continued. "Just the usual," she said again. Sador nodded, and decided not to push her. There was something , he just didn't know what, yet.

[ August 07, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

[*Varda*]

"This was a lovely luncheon," Elena politely said to Pelien, as she left. The Morthaniwens pulled away in their carriage, as Elena set off down the path to her home. It was only a few minutes walk, which hardly merited getting someone to drive her there. The afternoon sun shone on her, and altogether it would have been an enjoyable walk, if Elena had not been dwelling on other matters.

She had expressed her certainty over Finduilas' secret identity - the arguments in the luncheon had indeed been very convincing. Inwardly, she scolded herself - she should know better than to leap to conclusions so swiftly. What if Finduilas really was who she appeared to be, part of her argued. The larger part reasoned that there must be some truth to it all - this was not idle Minas Tirith gossip that the elderly women discussed over their afternoon tea. This was serious. And Elena could think of no one who would stoop so low as to spread these allegations. No, she told herself, they must be true. Resentment bubbled in her heart, as she thought of Finduilas. A stranger come into the court of Minas Tirith, to wed Denethor, to gain such power, and be lying all the time? Elena had little wish for this kind of power, being an unambitious person on the whole, but the idea of it irritated her.

But what were they to do? The Steward would never hear of this - he would pass it off as silly ideas among the more empty headed ladies of the court. She had not seen much of Siriel and Tiriel at the luncheon, but she doubted they believed the idea. No, if something was to be done, they would have to do it themselves. Arriving home, Elena swept up the stairs and into her pretty chambers, the sun bathing it in a warm light. Sitting at her small table, she rested her head in her hands and thought deeply, her brow slightly furrowed. The maid brought in a cup of tea and duly departed. Elena stared at the elaborate floral pattern, her eyes following it over the fragile crockery.

There was nothing to do but to meet with Finduilas. By and large, the women of Minas Tirith had done nothing but watch her from afar. Perhaps Finduilas' maids would have let something slip, if they knew about it. Calling the maid in, Elena spoke to her.

"Elsa? Have you heard the talk about Finduilas' identity? Have you spoken to any of her maids?"

"But yes, the maids have heard the rumours. I have not seen her maids - they seem to keep themselves to themselves," she answered.

"See what you can find out - it will probably be nothing, but they may forget themselves and inadvertently say something. " Elena dismissed the maid, and sipped calmly at her tea.

[Nurumaiel]

"Mother, I'm going out!" Adrama called, pausing for a moment at the front door. She waited to hear her mother's reply, but there was no answer. "Mother!"

Pelien appeared at the door that led into the front hallway. She gazed curiously at Adrama, who was dressed in one of her best dresses with her hair carefully tended to. An embroidered shawl was about her shoulders, as it was drawing near to evening and growing a little chilly. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should refuse to let her daughter go. Something about the way she was dressed made her a little nervous. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"If you must know," Adrama said, opening the door and pulling the shawl closer about her shoulders, "I'm going to meet someone."

Pelien's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could speak Adrama interrupted, "Don't worry, Mother, it's a woman." She smiled reassuringly, then left the house, closing the door gently behind her. Pelien remained staring at the door for awhile, and then shook her head, turning to get back to what she had been doing previously. "A woman," she murmured with a little sigh. "Ah, what a pity."

Down the road Adrama walked, keeping her head down low against the cold air. She and Alethea had arranged to meet in a public garden that was a little less than half a mile from Adrama's house. However, Adrama was a very fit young woman and it would not be very hard for her to walk the distance in the space of a few minutes. Her only concern was wrinkling her dress, which had been specially chosen to impress Alethea. Not that Adrama thought Alethea was the kind to be too impressed by the clothes one wore, but it wouldn't hurt to make certain.

A few minutes later Adrama was seated on a bench in the garden, bending down to sniff a purple flower growing beside her. Glancing up, she saw a figure coming through the dim evening light towards her. She sat up straighter, and strained her eyes to see who it was. As the figure drew closer, Adrama saw that it definitely was Alethea. She gave a little wave of her hand to alert the other's attention, and Alethea waved back.

"Alethea," Adrama said, standing up and offering her hand. "It's rather good to see you again." Alethea took the hand offered to her and gave a little curtsy. Adrama, her eyes twinkling mischievously, gestured to the bench and said in her best high-and-noble-born-lady-of-Gondor voice, "Please, dear Alethea, won't you be seated?" Alethea smiled faintly back and the two of them sat down side by side.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Arien's Post

It was two hours before tea was to be laid down and although Alethea knew this probably wasn't near enough time for her to get acquainted with Adrama even more, it would have to do. She had had Meirelle place out a simple rose dress for her and bade her farewell even though the girl had insisted on stay and helping her with Alethea's hair.. Although Alethea had a sneaky feeling that she wanted to know where she was off to. Alethea left the estate, curtsying to a guard placed outside of the gate. This wasn't necessary, but precautions must always be taken. It took her little over ten minutes to walk to the public garden where they were to meet. The orange glow of the sun dazzled her eyes as she walked and in truth she felt as though she was temporarily blinded. She smiled politely to those who she knew when they past by and the odd "Hello" and "How are you?" came from the passers by.

Alethea smiled and finally found herself at the park. She walked down a path and up ahead she saw a figure sat up a bench, as she drew closer she could see that it was Adrama and she gave a little wave. Alethea retuned the gesture. When she reached Adrama she was offered a welcome handshake and she took it and curtsied in return.

"Please, dear Alethea, won't you be seated?" asked Adrama in a noble voice, Alethea smiled faintly and sat down on the bench to Adrama. "How are you?" she continued to ask.

"Well, not much has changed since the luncheon. I am still in some what of a sombre mood but my mood has indeed been uplifted by our meeting, and of course my liking for the dear Finduilas has not gotten any better?"

Adrama raised her eyebrow, "Of course it has not... and if I am too bold tell me, but why do you hate Finduilas."

Alethea sighed, she couldn't exactly tell Adrama the truth, that would mean revealing her true identity and uncovering her mother and sisters plot to her. And Alethea was not that stupid, however there were a few other reasons that Alethea disliked Finduilas. And whether these reasons were helped by the wildly spun rumours or they were created for her own perception she had forgotten. But she was to tell Adrama anyway. "I think she is false?" she said it boldly and flatly, Adrama's eyes widened with a sort of intrigue, "this whole act she is putting on! Who does it fool? Her sweet smile, the air of innocence about her, even her beauty. She has fooled many of them, 'she is the perfect bride!' they all say over their over filled wine glasses and their overfilled heads. I don't know who she thinks she is fooling, but it is not I."

Alethea finished and gave a sort of cheeky smile to Adrama. Wow, she convinced herself she was describing Finduilas, or was she? She shook the thought from her head and continued, "And your reason?"

It was now time for Adrama to sigh, "Do not tell me you don't know!" she cried.

"You wanted Denethor?" Alethea queried, knowing all to well that this was the reason. Adrama nodded her head. Alethea gave a comforting smile. "Maybe we should move on to a different subject?" And so they did. They spoke for the full two hours that Alethea was available for. Conversation passed from their hatred of Finduilas to Dryea, and then to their mothers and various other women of the court. Alethea found that they did have much in common and although she was sure her mother or sister would condemn their friendship, because of Adrama's insignificance, that didn't seem to bother her.

"Well, this has been an interesting meeting" Alethea smiled at Adrama, "I would love to meet again sometime, but know I must go home and have tea with my mother and sister. See you again soon!" And with a small wave she was off and heading back to the estate.

Nurumaiel's Post

Adrama watched Alethea until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight. She knew her mother would be upset with her being out so late, but she ignored that thought and remained sitting on the bench. Because Finduilas was false? Adrama shook her head in confusion. Was Finduilas false? Or could it be that she had been fooling herself all along? No, it couldn't be, unless Alethea had also been wrong. Could they both be wrong?

Adrama's head sunk into her hands. Quiet desperation stole over her. She was so confused. Thinking of Denethor didn't upset her anymore... why? Her jealousy for Finduilas was still there, but it was gradually lessening. No, she couldn't have been that wrong. It had only been a little while since Finduilas had arrived. She couldn't have been that wrong. She suddenly felt like crying. She couldn't take much more.

She stood up, and, turning, made her way wearily back to her home.

[ August 16, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Ealasaid]

Back in Eleniel’s room, Averyll, Vieana, and Eleniel began to talk again.

“Well,” said Averyll with a gleam in her china blue eyes. “We can’t rely on Diorwyn and Betuli alone. I think it’s time we did a little visiting on our own. We need to get to know the ladies of the Minas Tirith court.”

Deep in thought, Elen and Vieana each nodded their agreement.

“We have to do something,” Elen sighed.

Averyll went to the bell cord and rang for a maid. “I’ll send a message to Lady Pelien and see if we might drop in on her. She told me at the ball that we all must get acquainted.” She winked at the other two ladies. “And, really, there’s no time like the present. Besides, she’s an older lady. Older ladies of the court usually know everything that is happening.”

Averyll went to the little writing desk in the corner and wrote a short note, which she handed to the maid when she appeared a few minutes later. Giving the maid instructions to deliver the note to Lady Pelien and wait for a response, Averyll watched as the girl curtsied and left, note in hand.

Then, she turned to Vieana. “Back in the dining room, Vieana, you suggested we fight fire with fire by starting some rumors of our own.” She hesitated. “Like what, for instance?”

“Well,” Vieana hesitated, too. “Well, I didn’t have anything specific in mind yet. I guess we could think of something… something really ugly that might distract them from what is being said about Finduilas.”

“Okay…” Averyll and Elen nodded. The three of them fell into silence, each trying hard to come up with a malicious rumor to spread.

Finally, Elen raised her hand. “I know! I’ve got one.”

When the others looked at her expectantly, she smiled. “How about this -- when she thinks nobody’s looking, Lady Emilia picks her teeth with her fan.” Elen’s face fell as the other two burst into laughter. Blushing, she shrugged. “It’s all I could think of.”

“I know!” laughed Vieana. “But, I think we need something a tad more serious. That sort of thing might raise a few eyebrows, but it would hardly be considered fighting fire with fire. I mean, after all, they are implying our lovely Finduilas is a pirate or some such nonsense. We should come up with something comparable.”

“But, about whom?” asked Averyll. “Lady Emilia seems like a harmless little thing. Why pick on her?”

“Well, why not?” asked Vieana. “Who knows what they are saying about us.”

Averyll shrugged. “But it’s mean. What if she gets hurt by it?”

Vieana shook her head in exasperation. “That’s the point, Averyll. They are trying to hurt us. We should hurt them in return.”

Averyll still looked unconvinced, but she stopped arguing. The three fell into silence again. Several minutes passed before Vieana raised her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got it. We can say it about Lady Dryea --”

“But the Morthaniawens are all so nice!” objected Elen. “Lady Dryea was especially friendly at the ball. And she looked so pretty in her crimson and cream gown. I wouldn’t feel right saying anything ugly about her.”

Vieana gave Averyll a dark look that said plainly, “Now, see what you started!”

Averyll made a slight grimace and looked at the floor. Vieana continued, “Well, Alethea, then --”

When Elen, again, opened her mouth to object, Vieana threw up her hands. “Who, then? Who can we start a rumor about if you two like everybody so much?”

Elen closed her mouth again and slumped in her chair. “I really don’t like this,” she mumbled.

“What’s the rumor?” asked Averyll suddenly. “Maybe we should start there.”

“We could say that one of these ladies’ grandmother was a Haradrim slave girl, and that her grandfather bought her off the back of a caravan.”

“Ouch,” said Averyll softly. “How about Lady Elena, then? She has dark hair. It might set people to talking. Does anyone know anything about her family? I mean, we can’t start rumors about her grandmother if her grandmother is someone everyone knows.”

Vieana nodded. “That’s why I suggested one of the Morthaniawens. They claim to come from Dol Amroth. Since that’s where we come from, people might be more apt to believe us. Plus nobody here would know their granny. At least, I wouldn‘t think so.”

“All good points,” Averyll agreed. “But wouldn’t that hurt us more? To attack the truthfulness of some of our own countrywomen? It would make all of Dol Amroth look like liars.”

“Oh.” Vieana sighed. “Another good point. We’re back to teeth picking with fans, I guess. If we can’t attack their lineage, what else can we say?”

“It’s just a rumor,” said Eleniel quietly.

“What?” asked Averyll, turning toward her. “What do you mean?”

“I said, it’s just a rumor. We can make it as wild as we like. The wilder the better. Nobody’s really supposed to believe it, are they?”

Averyll and Vieana exchanged a glance, then all three ladies began to smile. Eleniel definitely had a point.

[Everdawn]

Vieana had thought thats she was on a roll with her ideas, but whenever she suggested someone, they were rejected. Its not as though im wanting to do this out of spite. thought Vieana. Its just vengence. And after all, one of these women are fueling a fire for Finduilas.


“I said, it’s just a rumor. We can make it as wild as we like. The wilder the better. Nobody’s really supposed to believe it, are they?” Elen replied.

"thats right!" exclaimed Vieana, "After all, whywould they believe it. Dear Eru Elen, why is it that I couldnt think of that!" Vieana sat on a chair thinking.

"Though both of you have worn out my brain, I dont usually scheme against other women like this you know. If any of my sisters saw me now. Well, im guessing that would say 'its about time!' Vanroch, you know, the worst of all of my sisters. If I can remember correctly, sent a tale about my eldest sisters Viendala and Viendiel, just becuase they took her favourite dresses."

Vieana paused. "And then when both of them hushed it, Vanroch spread another about Viearen, who of course told my last sister Vanawen, who told my mother (she always does) and mother took away all their outside priveleges for a week. Vanroch got two. But I on the other hand got nothing, just becuase I am so good."

"But Alas! I guess the blood of the six siters rund through my veins also, therefore, it is not my fault that I should try to retalliate to such rumors. Its only natural." Vieana laughed.

"So youre not the innocent flower you always make out to be." Averyll replied. "Oh, I am still that my friend, I just dont like bad things being said about my friends."

"Then who do you propose we spread tales about then Vieana, since you were the one who planted the idea in my head." said Elen.

"I told you, I am out of ideas, I have nothing!" Vieana sighed.

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[alaklondewen]

Can the man not leave well enough alone? Pelien was getting irritated with Sador. She’d told him several times that her luncheon was nice, but he just wasn’t having it, and she wasn’t about to tell him about the rumors concerning Finduilas. Relief struck when Adrama’s voice called from the front of the house.

“Excuse me. My daughter needs me.” Pelien straightened her back and lifted her chin as she passed her husband without meeting his eyes.

Pelien was surprised to find Adrama beautifully dressed with a shawl around her shoulders as though she was ready to leave. Suspicion grew in her mind, and she hoped she wasn’t going to meet with Addruran. That boy wasn’t good enough for her, but maybe another young man had asked to see Adrama.

When Pelien inquired about where she was going, Adrama admitted she was meeting someone. Before Pelien could stop them, her eyes widened. Maybe there is a new beau…he’d best be from noble blood, or I’ll never let… Her thoughts were interrupted when Adrama assured her mother she was meeting with a woman. Pelien opened her mouth to reply, but Adrama was out and the door was closed securely behind her. Pelien reached out and softly touched the door with her finger tips. “A woman…ah, what a pity.”

Turning, Pelien entered the dining room where the ladies had eaten early that afternoon. The table was cleared and things appeared to be in proper order. Pelien ran her finger along the edge of the frame of a portrait of her mother’s sister, Prumiel, and then frowned at the dust that was stirred.

“Rummel! Rummel!” That girl had some more work to do, and Pelien was not at all pleased. Rummel appeared within moments and stood before Pelien with her head slightly lowered. “Can you tell me what this is?” Pelien held out her dust covered fingers for the servant to see.

“It’s dust, Madame.” The girl swallowed hard as she answered.

“Do you know where this…dust…came from?” Pelien stood at least three inches taller than Rummel, and she used her height for intimidation purposes.

Rummel was obviously nervous and she shook her head slowly not wanting to look up and meet Pelien’s expression. “You don’t know. I would hope you’d know every inch of these apartments by now and would know where you clean and where you don’t.” Pelien spoke condescendingly without raising her voice. “I’ll tell you where this…this…grime was found. It was here.” She pointed one long finger toward the portrait. “What if one of my guests had rubbed against it? Her dress might have been ruined!”

As Rummel nodded, a soft knock was heard at the door. The girl looked up, over to the entrance with relief and then back at Pelien waiting for permission to answer the door. Pelien waved at her to go, and Rummel returned a minute later saying that a messenger was here to see the Lady Pelien.

A messenger? Pelien wondered who would be sending a message…maybe the Steward’s daughters had had such a lovely time they sent a messenger to invite Pelien to the palace to tea. That must be it, she smiled inwardly thinking about tea at the palace with the Steward.

A thin girl, an obvious maid of some sort, waited patiently by the door. She curtsied when Pelien entered the room. “Lady Pelien, the Lady Averyll sends a message.” The girl stepped forward and handed Pelien a folded piece of parchment. “She asked me to wait for a response…” She might have gone on, but Pelien’s glare put an end to her talk.

Pelien unfolded the paper and held it out almost to arm’s length to read it. The note read as follows:

Dear Lady Pelien,

I was pleased to make your acquaintance at the welcoming ball, and the Ladies Vieana, Eleniel, and I would like to get to know the influential women in Minas Tirith. I, of course, thought of you immediately and would like to pay you a visit. Please give all the information to our messenger.

I am sincerely looking forward to our visit.

Yours truly,

Averyll

Pelien’s eyes looked back over the words ‘influential women in Minas Tirith’ and thought, of course she thought of me. So, the Ladies from Dol Amroth wanted to come to Pelien’s home. This might prove to be an interesting meeting.

“Tell Lady Averyll that they may come here to my home, tomorrow, two hours after the noon bell rings for tea and refreshments.” Pelien was intrigued at the idea of talking with women from Dol Amroth, and she wondered whether they had heard any of the rumors flying about. The messenger curtsied once more and left.

Pelien turned around to find Rummel still standing behind her. “What are you doing here? Get that dirt and grime out of my house. I want my home spotless before those women arrive tomorrow. Go!” Rummel nodded her head and hurried toward the kitchen.

[ August 08, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

[Manardariel]

"What is the matter with you?"

Tessa shook her head at Averyll, Vieana and Elen, who all swung round like children caught doing something very, very, naughty. The three had been crowding themselves beind a small window of one of the turret rooms, apparently looking out of the window.

"Brilliant day, is it not?" Elen asked, sounding breathless.

Tessa raised both eyebrows. "Yes, right...is there anything else to see down there? Oh, and Averyll, what have you got to do with that stuck-nose Pelien woman?"

The effect of those simple, casually spoken words was far more than even Tessa had intended. Vieana turned pale, Elen blushed furiously. Averyll stared at Tessa like she´s just turned into a fluffy, white bunnyrabbit. "How...How do you know?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"I just saw your "messenger" return. The poor girl asked me to give you her message, for she had to return to the kitchens as soon as possible." Tessa smiled cat-like, letting her eyes wonder over a stummering Elen, a chalk-white Vieana and Averyll, whose lips were closed very tightly.

Vieana shot the other two a quick, inquisitive glance. Averyll barely visible shook her head, cleared her throat and turned to Tessa, apparently trying to look relaxed and casual. She was failing miserably. "So, what was the message she asked you to pass on?"

Tessa grinned. "Congrats, my dears. You´re invited for tea and refreshments. Tomorrow, two hours after noon. Honestly, what are you three up too?"

"Oh, nothing." Elen said, maybe a little to quickly. "We´re just...socializing. Meeting new people. You know."

"No, I don´t know!" She was getting annoyed. "Look, I don´t know why you want to meet that robed and jeweled general of a woman, but listen to this. Remember last year, the whole sea-captain affair? It was people like your lady Pelien who wanted to abadon Finduilas from court, and do you know why? To make their own daughters more powerful. Woman like that are snakes. They think of their own interests- and usually those aren´t very healthy for other people. So, if you are convinced to go to that little tea-party, be my guest. But if either of you end up poisend by that snakes fangs- or, as a matter of fact, her tea- don´t say I didn´t warn you!"

She stared at the others, her eyes glittering menacing. They had better tell them what was happening here. Tessa wanted to know. Tessa needed to know.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Eckthelion stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair, staring grimly at the pile of missives stacked in front of him that threatened to topple over onto the floor. The golden orb of the sun hung high above his head. It was surely close to noon, yet he'd made little headway on the urgent matters of state crying out for his attention.

He'd found it difficult to focus on the mundane intricacies of governance with his thoughts so often distracted by all the doings at court. The welcoming party for Finduilas had been followed by a maze of chatter and intrigue that seemed to fill every crack and crevice of the palace, even affecting his own dear daughters. Ecthelion generally shut his ears to such nonsense and longed for older, simpler ways. Yet as Steward, that was a luxury he could ill afford. With no throne or sceptre or crown, the ruling line of Anárion relied on the visual image of the court with its carefully maintained decorum to buttress their right to govern.

Still, all the intricacies of court could not disguise the fact that the shadow of Mordor was creeping ever closer to Gondor, a development that would inevitably lead to war. If and when that sad day came, Eckthelion was stubbornly determined that his people would be prepared to stand firm and weather the assault.

Eckthelion wearily placed his hand on his brow as his eyes drifted down to a special missive that had been brought to him by a courier just that morning. He would read this one with care. Of all the outside agents that he employed, and there were a great many, none could match the keen instincts and wise words of this strange fellow also in Theoden's following who went by the name of Thorongil. Respectfully dubbed the 'Eagle of the North' by those who served under his command, the man seemed to possess an uncanny knack for inspiring his companions to stand firm even when outnumbered and in ferretting out secrets that were clearly dangerous to the best interests of Gondor. Thorongil's instinctive grasp of where and when the agents of Mordor would strike made him someone of inestimable value. It was scarcely surprising that in most matters the Steward found his own opinions concurring with those of the Eagle.

Eckthelion picked up the sheaf of vellum before him and, spying Thorongil's personal hand, scanned it with particular interest. After reading the contents, he sat back and sighed, shaking his head in bewilderment and frustration. Why would the man not leave off with this one topic, the only matter of state on which the two of them did not agree? Once again, Thorongil was urging him to take up arms and strike out against the fleet in Umbar and, once again, Eckthelion would pen a polite reply outlining the exact reasons why he felt this to be a dangerous course.

Despite his enormous respect for the man, the Steward was not about to be herded into adopting an overly risky stance, not until he felt beyond any doubt that Umbar would stop at nothing to see Gondor fall. He did not regard Umbar as a deadly peril in the same sense that Thorongil did, for he still hoped that differences between the two states could be settled by some means other than armed conflict.

Eckthelion drew out a fresh sheet and scrawled a response, folded it over, and appended his seal, which took the form of a white tree in blossom beneath seven stars. Then he sat back again in deep reflection. Later today or tomorrow he needed to speak with Denethor regarding his bride-to-be and the activities planned at court for the coming week.

Denethor had said something about Finduilas voicing a shy plea that the family sponsor a masquerade ball prior to the betroval party in hopes that she could make some headway with the women from Minas Tirith who'd acted a bit cool and distant. For the most part, the two lovers seemed totally enamored with each other and paid little heed to everything going on about them. Eckthelion could not help but smile to see the softening effect that the gentle girl from Dol Amroth had upon his usually dour son. He was grateful that, for once, matters of state and matters of the heart seemed to coincide. So, if the couple asked the Steward to plan a masquerade at court, he would do everything in his power to comply with that particular request.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[maikafanawen]

It was a quarter of an hour until tea when Ruiel joined her oldest daughter in the garden. She had changed as well into a comfortable brocaded gown of a black and gold combination and moved easily through the flowerbeds to where Dryea sat reading, shaded by her parasol.

“Hello daughter,” she said pleasantly. Dryea raised an eyebrow at her mother’s newfound geniality. “I have finally figured out the ingredient Aunt Idella uses in that poison powder of hers.” Dryea looked at her vacantly. “You know, the one that looks like ordinary salt? Anyhow, it’s the best sort. It triggers the moment the victim falls to sleep making it look entirely unobtrusive.” Ruiel seemed so pleased with herself, Dryea decided to keep things on an even level and not to upset her.

“Would you care to have tea outdoors this afternoon?” Dryea posed indifferently. Ruiel acquiesced and Alethea was summoned to join them and the slight repast was served. The three exchanged opinions on the fluidity of the luncheon. All together they were very pleased with the outcome and didn’t have any worries.

“How did you find Pelien’s daughter, Alethea?” Ruiel asked innocuously. Unaware that the two had spoken at all during the luncheon, Dryea faced her younger sister as she spoke.

“She was decent enough,” Alethea replied halfheartedly. “We seem to have a lot in common.” The youngest Morthaniawen took a sip at her tea, hoping that would be the extent of that topic.

“Adrama?” Dryea pursued. “I didn’t notice the two of you canvassing. What could she possibly have to talk about?”

“Enough to stifle an hour and a half of pointless talk between the older ladies,” Alethea said coarsely. “She’s really a very pleasant girl.” Dryea narrowed her eyes and leaned back, abandoning her tea as she lashed back at her sister.

“Of all the ladies you could have chosen as an ally you pick her!” she fumed, trying not to yell so loudly. “You could have done some good by choosing someone of higher influence! Getting Adrama to spread rumors is about as pointless as—well everyone knows of her infatuation with Denethor so no one will take her seriously.”

“You’re one to speak of allies, Dryea. What good is Rhir to our cause?” Dryea froze, immeasurable vehemence written on her face. She looked nervously at her mother whose eyes were becoming an angry dark shade then back at Alethea. The last thing she had ever expected was for Alethea to speak degradingly of Rhir in front of Ruiel. Their mother hated him for his interference in their plot and would probably do anything to dispatch of him. Every bit of discredit she could find, Ruiel threw at Dryea trying to persuade her to break their escalating relationship.

Dryea glared at Alethea who sat smugly in her chair, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Alethea,” Ruiel began slowly and deliberately. “You have brought up a very important point.” Dryea sat petrified in her seat, her cup in her right hand held above her saucer in paralyzed apprehension.

[Ealasaid]

“…but if either of you end up poisoned by that snake’s fangs - or, as a matter of fact, her tea - don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Tessa stared menacingly at the three conspirators. Only Averyll managed to meet her gaze. Finally, with a shrug and a nod to Elen and Vieana, Averyll took Tessa by the elbow and guided her to a distant corner of the room, away from any doors, tapestries, or listening ears.

“It’s because the Pelien woman is a snake that I seek her out,” she said quietly. “What I am about to tell you is of the strictest confidence. You must swear not to breathe a word of it to your sister. Can you do that?”

Tessa eyed her suspiciously.

“We are trying to protect Finduilas,” Averyll explained carefully. “I only ask you to keep these things from her so as not to cause her undue stress. Of course, she may find out eventually, but, for the moment, we need to exercise the utmost of secrecy. Will you swear?”

Tessa hesitated a moment to think. Finally, she agreed. “I swear I will keep it secret from Finduilas only so long as I think it would be of benefit for her not to know. Will that do?”

Averyll nodded, satisfied. “Those are our conditions exactly.” Still speaking quietly, she told Tessa the entire story of the increasingly pervasive rumors regarding Finduilas’ lineage, the smirks of the guards, and the gossip that flowed unchecked amongst the servants of the citadel. As Averyll spoke, Tessa’s expressive features grew increasingly grim. When Averyll explained her own unplanned excursion into the servant’s quarters to speak with Diorwyn, Tessa smiled gravely.

“So, that’s where you went during lunch,” she commented. “I thought you were gone an awfully long time.”

Averyll smiled. “I had to do something. And, knowing how close you are with your sister, we had to agree to keep things from you as well as Finduilas, in the hopes of keeping the both of you above all of this…this scheming.” She sighed. “But if you must know about all of it, perhaps you can help us.”

Tessa glanced over toward where Vieana and Eleniel waited anxiously. “Have the three of you come up with a plan, then?”

Again, Averyll nodded. “Such as it is.” She beckoned to the other two ladies, who quickly joined them. “Our plan,” she told Tessa. “Is two-fold. Firstly, we are trying to find the source of the rumors. If we have any success, perhaps we can discredit the individual at fault and save our Finduilas’ reputation quietly, without making a great fuss about it at court.”

“And secondly?” prompted Tessa.

“Secondly,” chimed in Vieana. “We hope to spread enough wild rumors about the various ladies of Minas Tirith that no one will notice what is said about Finduilas. They will all be too worried about their own reputations.”

Averyll nodded. “No one will know what to believe about anyone, and, with a little luck, the entire thing will blow past with no lasting ill effects against anyone.”

Tessa gave her a long, considering stare. “And where does this Pelien woman fit in?”

“Tomorrow, two hours after noon,” answered Averyll, with a grin. “But, seriously, she represents our First Assault. We hope to find out what we can -- subtly, of course -- about these rumors. Failing that, we hope to plant a few of our own.”

“You have chosen a formidable target. Perhaps I should come along, too.”

Elen reached out and took Tessa’s hand. “Yes. Do!” She exclaimed. “Having you with us would most certainly be to our advantage!”

“Yes, indeed!” agreed Averyll. “You have clever mind and a quick tongue, both useful qualities for this little endeavor. I shall send a second note to Lady Pelien, accepting her invitation and advising her that you, too, will be attending. Agreed?” She looked around the faces of the other three ladies. When all three had communicated their acquiescence, she smiled. “Then I believe I have a letter to write!”

“And the lot of us have some serious planning to do,” added Tessa.

[Everdawn]

Tessa had come in some minutes before, and had learned about their venture to Pelien's house. Vieana was frozen to the spot. Averyll, thank eru, was there to explain what was going on. Yes, Vieana was not good at explaining her plotting. Infact she was becoming more ashamed by the minute. She could tell that she had gone pale again, she did when she was nervous.


She was too busy listening to her own heartbeat when Tessa spoke up "Woman like that are snakes. They think of their own interests- and usually those aren´t very healthy for other people. So, if you are convinced to go to that little tea-party, be my guest. But if either of you end up poisend by that snakes fangs- or, as a matter of fact, her tea- don´t say I didn´t warn you!"

She was right, they were snakes, all of them. And Vieana was not so innocent of it either, Vieana's sister Vanroch was one of the ones who looked down slightly on Finduilas after last year, and Vanroch was a snake.

Averyll lead Tessa away from where people could hear, while Elen and Vieana sat chewing nervously on their nails. Every few seconds Vieana glanced at Elen, who she guessed was feeling the same as she was, and at Tessa and Averyll. After much talking, Tessa promised to keep this a secret. To which Vieana was much relieved.

"I cant help but feel guilty now..." Vieana spoke as the ladies sat speaking about the coming meeting. "I mean, Lady Pelien, is well, a ladyof this city. Are you sure we are not out of our depth?... Just a little?"

"Hush Vieana! think about it later, then it wont matter so much." Elen said. "Honestly you worry too much!"

Vieana put her hand up to speak and then put it back down. "How long?" Vieana asked.

[Manardariel]

“Girls- girls can I have a moment alone?” Tessa asked, her voice hoarse. “I promise I won´t tell Finduilas anything.” As if I could! As if I could repeat anything they said to her!

Tessa hastened out of the room and up the stairs. Through a corridor, another one- she barely knew where she was going when she came out on the balcony of the northern turret. From here you could see all of the city: It´s white mansions in the higher rings, the citadel, but also the small houses, the mighty walls and towers of guard. Was it really the sharp wind that blew tears to her eyes? Tessa stared south. There was her home. The crowing of the gulls, the salty taste on her lips. Ships and seagulls. Merchants and nobeles. The laughter of children in the streets. The rumble of waves, the soft call of “farewell” every sailor knows.

“How can they hate us so much?” Tessa asked aloud. No one answered. No one, no one is this city will listen to us. It´s hopeless!

The sun had begann to set over Minas Tirith. Red and golden streakd, mixed with pale pinks and a deep scarlet painted the city. It was beautiful- but to Tessa, it was disgusting.

“Beauty lies in the eyes of that who looks.” She said, fury rising inside. She looked at the city once more her arms raised as if she was casting a spell. “And you are UGLY!”

*******
“So, what´s the plan for tomorrow then?” Tessa asked Averyll. They were at dinnertime, Tessa having declined Finduilas offer for a stroll and a late meal afterwards. She didn´t think she could bare to look her sister in the eye. Finduilas had looked suprised, but not hurt or something.Tessa, on the other hand, didn´t think she could bare it. But she had to, it was for Finduilas´ own good! She had come to resolution with herself: she would fight, fight for Finduilas honor and her own pride.Right now, she was listening to Averyll telling her about tomorrow. And how she should behave. “And remember Tessa: be good. No comments, no loud laughing, always smile and keep your opinion to yourself.” She nodded bravely, but inside she felt sick. Nervous, and disgusted. [I]An interesting mixture![I/] Tessa felt her good spirits coming back, and knew: she would not give up.

[ August 13, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

[elven maiden Earwen]

Elen was sitting on her bed trying to figure out what had happened. They had told Tessa about everything, and she promised not to tell Finduilas. I can’t believe I turned so red when Tessa came in and asked what was going on. Averyll and Vieana left soon after Tessa had, so Elen sat alone in her dark room.

Elen stood up and walked to her window. She flung open the curtains and let her gaze wander across the city. The sun was setting and the sky was an array of colors. It was a wonderful view when sunbeams hit the edges of the buildings turning them many different colors. I wish I was back in Dol Amroth. I wish none of this had ever happened. Elen wanted to leave this city. After all the cruel things the people said about Finduilas Elen could never think of making this place her home for many years.

The sun was now almost out of sight and they sky started to darken. She realized how hungry she was. She quickly put on a nice light pink dress and tied her hair back in a white ribbon. She closed the drapes and hurried out of the room. She slowly wandered the corridors until she found the dinning hall. When she entered she noticed Tessa and Averyll sitting together so she went and joined them.

She got some food and drink but barley touched it. She didn’t pay attention to what Averyll and Tessa were talking about as she was wrapped up in her own thoughts. She thought back when she was younger. As the middle-child she always had to do the chores in the house because Melanie, her older sister made her and her brother was to young. It was in this time she started spending time away from her house and then she met Finduilas and Tessa.

She hadn’t seen her mother or father, ever since she moved to Minas Tirth. She had still lived with them before she moved as she was only 18 but she hadn’t even talked to them in a while. I should go visit them, if Melanie has a husband by now, or if these rumors ever get cleared up, she thought. These stupid rumors. They made her so mad. Finduilas was a wonder person and she wasn’t an imposter. Whoever started these rumors had a lot of nerve to do so. And call her and imposter! It was downright stupid.

Something that Tessa said snapped her out of her thoughts.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow then?” Pelien! Elen had totally forgotten about there little tea party tomorrow.

“Um... I’m going to go to my room” Elen said quickly excusing herself. She had to go figure out what she was going to wear. After all they were going to talk to a very important lady ion this city. She might know something about these rumors.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night Eleniel lay in bed, waiting for sleep to overcome her. The moon shone softly though her open curtains, the breeze felts light and pleasant and it blew though her open window. It was a peaceful night and Eleniel couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t go asleep. Something was bothering her but she couldn’t figure out quite what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Eleniel woke up at dawn. She threw on a silver dress and headed outside to take a walk and clear her mind. She was slightly nervous about meeting Pelien. She just hoped she didn’t slip up and say something stupid or embarrassing. She took a walk though the empty streets of the city passing by huge mansions and small houses. As she turned to head back towards the citadel she was amazed at the sight see saw. The citadel glistened in the sunlight and it was beautiful.

When she got back to her room the people of the city were just waking up. She watched for a while as the people bustled around getting ready for another day of work. She went and had some breakfast, which consisted of mostly fruit. When she returned it was late morning and she decided it was time to get ready.

Elen pulled out a beautiful cream and ivory dress. It had attractive designs on it in the likeliness of stars. She dressed quickly pulling the dress over her head. She added a silver brooch that looked like a star to her outfit. Elen stared into the mirror. She hadn’t worn a dress so beautiful since the welcoming party. When everyone seemed to like and accept them.

She brushed out her long black hair and pulled it into a tight twist. She put on a silver necklace and earrings. Now what to do. It would be a couple hours until they would leave for the party. Elen pulled out a book she had on a self and started to read. Hopefully that would pass the time.

[ August 15, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[alaklondewen]

Pelien watched the front door intensely waiting for it to open and produce her daughter, who happened to still be gallivanting about for all her mother knew. The sun had already sunk into the west, and Pelien sat like a panther waiting for her prey. Adrama had left suddenly that afternoon…a little too suddenly, and her mother wanted some answers. She also wanted Adrama to know her presence would be required at tea time tomorrow.

Fifteen minutes later, which felt like three hours to Pelien who had yet to take her eyes from the entry, the door inaudibly opened and Adrama slipped in looking around toward the stairs and into the kitchen until they rested on Pelien. The expression on the older woman’s face would have wilted a flower and Adrama stood with her back to the door, speechless for a moment or two before greeting her mother as though nothing was amiss.

“I’m tired, Adrama.” Pelien remained stiff, unmoving, and never let her eyes stray from her daughter’s. “Do you know why I’m tired?” Adrama looked down at her feet and shook her head. “I’m tired of working hard to keep this family respectable in the eyes of the community, and I’m tired of having to clean up after the messes you make of your reputation.”

Adrama looked up and tried to protest, but Pelien held up her hand to silence her. “This will not happen again. Now, we will be having guests tomorrow. Some of the ladies from Dol Amroth want to visit with some of the most influential women in this city, and they of course contacted me.” Pelien finally let her daughter’s gaze go and looked down at her nails holding one hand out with her fingers spread. “As my daughter, you will be in attendance. I will not have these ladies think you are out doing…whatever it was you were doing today that kept you from your home after dark.”

Adrama nodded while Pelien rose and told her daughter goodnight. As she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, she wondered whether she’d been too hard on the girl, but then dismissed the idea. Adrama needs discipline and a firm hand if she is too follow in my footsteps, she thought as she reached for the handle to her bedroom door.

******************************
Pelien rose early and moved to the dining room where Sador was already sitting, enjoying his hot cereal. Rummel came immediately and took Pelien’s breakfast order and returned several minutes later with a tray of pastries and orange tea. Sador seemed to be in a good mood and talked idly of politics and state affairs. Pelien remained relatively quiet, responding when necessary, and only listening with one ear.

“Honey, the tea party…are you looking forward to it?” Sador’s voice grabbed her attention, and he must have been talking to her without her knowledge.

“Oh, yes, it should prove to be an interesting time.” A smile crossed Pelien’s face that was full of mischief as she looked into her husband’s face. An interesting time indeed, she thought.

[Nurumaiel]

Adrama's face grew pale as her mother scolded her and she began to tremble with anger at the injustice being done to her. If her mother knew, she might actually be pleased that her daughter was associating with Alethea. However, she listened, trying to hide her frustration, and nodded mutely when her mother finished. Pelien gave her one last look and left the room.

When she was certain her mother was gone, Adrama walked over to the nearest chair and kicked it. Her mother thought she was ruining her reputation. "Let my reputation be ruined," Adrama said between clenched teeth, her breath coming loud and hard. "I don't care at all. Let her think I'm a little brat. I don't care what she says."

Feelings began to overwhelm her, and she threw herself down on the chair she had previously been kicking. Her mother wanted her to be at tea tomorrow? Well, how would she feel if her daughter wasn’t there at all? Unable to speak clearly, Adrama said in barely a whisper, "Does she think I'm still a child? I'm twenty-five years of age. I'm not a child. If I want to ruin my reputation, I will. It's my decision now, not my mother's."

And it was all Finduilas' fault. What was this sudden barrier that came between Adrama and her mother? They had been such good friends before Finduilas had entered the scene. They had never been so tense around each other. If only Finduilas had never come, if only Denethor still...

"Stop!" Adrama nearly shouted. "You mustn't think of that or you might burst into tears." But then the feelings from earlier that evening came. Thinking of Denethor didn't upset her as much anymore.

She sat there a few minutes more, contemplating the idea of running away or kidnapping Finduilas and other silly, childish ideas. She never would have carried them out, but imagining it all brought her great comfort. At last she stood up and made her way slowly to her bedroom, stopping for a moment to say good night to her father. She didn’t say good night to her mother.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Novnarwen]

It was early in the morning, quite a nice day, Sador thought, while eating his hot cereal by the breakfast table. He had tried not to think of his wife's reaction towards his questions about the luncheon. What was really going on? he wondered, but didn't dare ask his wife. Sador didn't want her to believe he of all thought she was a bad host for such fine ladies Pelien invited. If she said it had been an interesting and enjoyable lunch, he had no reason to doubt it, right? He shook his head trying to relax feeling quite a relief when his wife appeared and ordered breakfast.

He looked at his wife, pretending to be in a very good mood. The truth was that he was more annoyed by the feeling he had; that something was wrong. Sador started talking about politics. He always did, when he was in a good mood. He pretened now, but anyway, it would make hime feel better if his wife believed he was happy. After intense talking about the coming steward and how his chances for being as remarkable as his father he stopped, setting his eyes up on his wife.

“Honey, the tea party are you looking forward to it?” She seeemed surprised, as she hadn't been following his theories regarding politics.

“Oh, yes, it should prove to be an interesting time," Pelien giggled. Sador didn't know if he understood the answer he had got. But it was enough for him, for now anyhow.

[ August 16, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

[Ealasaid]

Averyll spent most of the morning wandering aimlessly from room to room, deep in concentration. From time to time, she would take a seat in this room or that one, then rise again and begin to walk. She could always think better when moving. She just wished she had some chore or work with which to occupy herself, but there was none. The servants were quite efficient. No sooner did she pick up a stray feather duster or stoop to fluff a pillow than a smiling chambermaid appeared at her elbow all too ready to take over for her. Finally, she had to give up and content herself with walking.

As Tessa had been all to quick to point out, the Pelien woman was, indeed, a snake and a formidable target for a first foray into the trenches, so to speak. It worried Averyll if the other girls would be up to the challenge. She was not terribly worried for herself. After all, following the death of her wayward husband, she had had to settle accounts with quite a mixed bag of creditors and opportunists, everything from angry tailors to professional gamblers. Keeping that in mind, she did not feel particularly threatened by a befeathered and bejeweled Lady General of the court. What she did feel was frightened for Finduilas. It was Finduilas' future and reputation that were at stake, not her own, and a woman like Lady Pelien could truly wreak havoc with that. Averyll knew that she and her friends would have to keep their wits about them.

After a light lunch with Tessa and Vieana, during which all talk of the upcoming tea was carefully avoided, Averyll retired to her room to dress. Every detail must be carefully attended to. Lady Pelien had a sharp eye and would notice any sign of carelessness nad, if she was like the other ladies of her ilk, carelessness would be seen as a sign of disrespect. Still only a few months out of formal mourning, Averyll chose a dress of white and a pale pearl gray. As befit her station, it was elegant of cut, suiting Averyll's slim figure well, but fairly plain of decoration. She hung a delicate silver chain around her neck from which dangled a single, perfect black pearl. Finally, she twisted her chestnut hair into an elegant chignon. She was ready.

She joined the other three ladies in the sitting room down the hall. Each was beautifully dressed and coiffed, suitable for a dinner with Eckthelion, himself, not merely afternoon tea with a viper. She smiled at them approvingly.

"You all look perfectly lovely," she said, glancing to each nervous face in turn. "That was the first step. Now that we have our armor in place -" she winked at Tessa "- we must make sure of our strategy. And, remember, we must not let her see we are nervous. She will be on to you like a shark on to a wounded halibut, at the first sign of fear. If any of us see another of us floundering, we must go to her assistance immediately. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said the other three, not quite in unison.

"Good." Averyll smiled again. "And remember to smile! This is a social call. We must appear light and breezy and pleasant, not nervous and frightened. And we must not cross the line from breezy and pleasant to silly or empty-headed. We are trying to win this woman's respect, not her scorn."

"Right," Vieana agreed. "My husband has always said that if one wishes to succeed in battle, one must exude confidence."

"Exactly," agreed Averyll.

"Are we going to repeat any of those awful rumors?" asked Elen. "The ones we made up."

"Only if we have to, I would think," answered Tessa. "I am more interested at the moment to see if we can find out more about these things they are saying about Finduilas. I would very much like to know where those things are coming from."

Averyll nodded. "I think that is our first objective. We must see how things progress from there. If you are uncertain of what to do or say, then follow my lead. I have dealt with worse sorts than this Lady Pelien. Shall we go, then?"

"We might as well get it over with," sighed Eleniel. With that, the four ladies gathered their shawls about them and summoned their escort to depart.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Eckthelion sat hunched over the large table in his study sorting though an assortment of dispatches that had arrived earlier that morning. His own breakfast tray was tossed aside untouched as he tried to make sense of the plethora of petitions and complaints that had come flooding in that day. So many concerns and affairs to supervise, so many indications that the agents of Mordor were strengthening their forces and would have to be dealt with one way or the other.

There was a time when he was younger when things were not so difficult. He could remember exactly when everything had changed. It was the year when Mount Doom had burst into flame, and the inhabitants of Ithilien had fled before Sauron's wrath, just a few months after his own father had died, and he had taken over the stewardship of Gondor feeling only partially adequate to the task. His whole policy and feelings had been shaped by those events, and he was doing everything he could not only to strengthen Gondor, but to pass those beliefs and priorities on to his son.

Eckthelion glanced up as the door swung back and Denethor came striding inside with a respectful nod to his father. His son, a man of some forty-one years, a full fifteen years older than his bride-to-be, had always been proud and serious, deeply concerned with affairs of state. The father had every reason to be well content. Yet still, he had a feeling that there was a hardness there, a chill in the heart that all his paternal love and affection had done nothing to dissipate. Perhaps, the gentle young Finduilas would do a better job bringing a bit of sparkle to his son's stern eyes.

Eckthlion cleared his throat and pointed down to a message on the desk, then looked over at Denethor, "Another message from Thorongil. He warns of Umbar's threat, and how we would lead a party against the Corsairs and set fire to their fleet."

Denethor looked uneasily over towards his father, "And you? What would you do?"

Eckthelion rasped back an answer, "You know my policy on this. I have not changed my mind. The risk is too great. And, even more, I am still hopeful that another way can be found to bend their hearts."

Denethor visibly relaxed to hear his father's words. "You will answer Thorongil then?" The agent's name was spoken with underlying vehemence.

"Aye, I will write him and say that we will continue our policy of watching and waiting. A policy of caution, not aggression. Meanwhile, we will continue to build our forces and gain all the allies we can."

Eckthelion pushed the paper aside and looked deep into his son's eyes, "And you, how are you doing with the delightful young lady of Dol Amroth? Do you find her as charming as you first thought?"

A unexpected brightness filtered over Denethor's face as he turned towards his father, "I am well pleased. She is sweet and young and her eyes sparkle with a light that is different than any I have seen. Yes, I am well pleased. Only I was wondering.... I wish to please her. Have you given thought to what I spoke of the other day?"

The father bent down to unlock a drawer and rummaged around before pulling out a square sheet of vellum and handing it to his son, "Here it is. What you asked for. A masquerade is to be given at the palace two days from now in honor of the bride-to-be. I have ordered the messengers to take and deliver these invitations to all the families who frequent the court."

A full-fledged smile spread over Denethor's visage as he reached over and scanned the sheet. "Thank you, father," Denethor wholeheartedly replied. "I know Finduilas is truly looking forward to this. She hopes the ladies will be a bit more relaxed than last time, and that she'll be able to win a friend or two." He bowed briefly and then turned about to make his exit.

As the door clanged shut, Eckthelion looked up and sighed. Would that all his problems were so easily solved! Then he glanced back at the pile of dispatches waiting on his desk and continued sifting through them.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Elora]

Oh but it had been a long night!

Ruiel paced her chambers restlessly, yet to summon a maid or make a start on any of the other beginnings that entail morning for nobility. Her daughters had retired at each other's throats and neither particularly fond of their mother. Alethea had been severely cautioned about girlish chatter with Adrama. Pelion could easily be more than an irritation if Alethea did not carefully monitor what she mentioned to Pelion's daughter. Ruiel had, however, found cause to praise her youngest daughter.

Provided she stepped carefully, Adrama could be a useful source of information and an invaluable contact within one of Minas Tirith's most noble households, aside from Morthaniawen. Ruiel absently added the house of the Stewards to that list. Ruiel was not, however, given to excesses of effusive praise and Alethea was a sensative as her fool father had been. Little good it would do her, and of little avail had it been to him.

Compared to Dryea, Alethea had received glowing approval. It unfolded, thanks to Alethea, that her elder daughter had been seeing a great deal more than Ruiel realised. Deception and omission rankled her when it came from her own blood. Ruiel was somewhat nonplussed by Alethea's preparedness to betray her sister's confidences so readily. Dryea had not accepted Ruiel's words calmly. In the end, open rebellion caused Ruiel to send both daughters at great speed to their rooms. Dryea went with the threat that a watcher would be appointed to ensure that lout of a soldier Rhir did not find any other opportunities.

Unfortunately, that proved the least of Ruiel's concerns that night. Rebellious and love sick daughters were the least of her concerns. After the disasterous tea in the gardens, Ruiel had stalked back to her private office in a dark cloud. She had doffed the Gondorian garb there, and wrapped in a soft robe of finely woven indigo silk, golden iris woven through it, Ranne had dared to venture in.

That was when things truly started to become nothing short of infuriating. In their time spent at the Citadel, a number of correspondences had arrived. Ranne had swiftly sorted through them. When a report that bore a rare mark of identification came to her attention, she had quickly passed it to Ruiel. The Lady Morthaniawen's irritation at Ranne's interruption of her review of lineage charts faded when she saw the mark.

It was the words of that report that haunted Ruiel still by the light of the early morning. The Steward was being pushed to launch war against Umbar. With weddings and other high spirits, it just may happen. Men did such things as launch wars when they felt enlarged with good fortune and therefore invincible. Should war launch in the coming months, Umbar's navy would be decimated. A chill sat in the pit of Ruiel's stomach as she considered this.

A tap sounded at her doors and Ranne entered tentatively. She peered through the darkness of Ruiel's bedroom, the drapes still closed at the window.

"Good morning, m'Lady," Ranne ventured. Ruiel did not reply and simply waved the woman on. Familiar with her mistress, Ranne knew that at such times it was best not to disturb or intrude further than was strictly necessary. It was not the first time that grim or urgent news had come to the Estate and they had always emerged at the other end of matters in a favourable position.

As Ranne straightened the room and set out a gown for the day, Ruiel thought furiously. Her orders, and they were exactly that, had been clear and from no less than the highest lord of Umbar. Gondor must not strike and she was to set all she had at her disposal, including the lives of her daughters, household and herself to see this done.

There were a number of options to speed things up. Morthaniawen could perhaps hold a hunt, where something untoward would unfold. Perhaps a scandal or a tragedy to devestate Eckthelion and Denethor. It was not a subtle as Ruiel preferred, but it was an option. As Ranne tightened the bodice laces of a delicate green silk dress, Ruiel found herself loathe to make such a direct and vulgar move. Someone would be bound to notice if Findulias was pushed from her horse. Outrage would simmer, as would grief. The woman would be idealised instead of disgraced, and the esteem in which the Stewards are held would only rise in the minds of a populace.

Better to make war impossible due to internal fractures and unrest. Civil strife was far easier to spark and control. Besides, they already had laid the groundwork for exactly that with the rumours. Something Alethea had said about Adrama in the prior evening shone in Ruiel's recollection.

"After breakfast summon my daughters to my day room," Ruiel said. Ranne nodded, wincing at the tone.
"Do so pleasantly, Ranne. The time for displeasure is past. Umbar is to band together now if ever," Ruiel added as she saw Ranne's expression. The maid nodded, her expression lightening as she realised her new task was not to haul the sisters in for another roasting.

Ruiel remained in her chambers after Ranne had left. She cast a glance at the mirror and saw her reflection thrown back at her. How fine it would be when the day arrived that she no longer had to wear the charmless and dour garb of Gondor and instead wore Umbar's finest cloths made into gowns of office. With a thrill of dangerous excitement in her eyes, Ruiel fancied she could sense that day approaching.

The long years spent first in Dol Amroth and then Minas Tirith were coming to fruition at last.

[alaklondewen]

As the morning wore on, Pelien watched Rummel like a hawk and roamed the housed with a white glove inspecting all the nooks and crannies for dirt missed by the young servant. Rummel asked no questions when dust was found, but with her head lowered she would detail the area while Pelien stood over her. The girl was a good worker and always showed respect, but if she wasn’t watched she would get lazy, and Pelien would not have that.

As noon approached, Pelien had yet to see Adrama come down from her room. Either the girl was rebelling and staying in her room, or she was being careful to avoid Pelien.

“Rummel, I will be having lunch on the balcony today. I need you to inform my daughter that her presence is wanted.” Pelien and the servant stood just outside Pelien’s bedroom. As soon as Rummel had her orders, she curtsied and returned down the hallway toward Adrama’s rooms.

Pelien entered her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. Crossing the room, she opened her armoire and shuffled through the gowns hanging neatly in a line. Although she wouldn’t have admitted it, Pelien wanted to make a good impression on the ladies. They would have to see her as important to the community and an influential member of the court. The older woman thought about this as she selected a gown. She did not want to seem overly casual, yet this was only tea on a mid-week afternoon. After careful deliberation pulled a black and white dress from its hanger and laid it gently across her bed. This dress and its color would show her status and that of her husband’s as a tower guardsman.

As she stood over the bed, a light knock came from the door. Pelien knew it would be Adrama, and she called for her to come in. Without turning around the older woman could hear the door creak and then her daughter’s slippered feet pad across the floor.

“Hello, Mother. Do you need me for something?” Adrama had waited to speak until she was at her mother’s side, and although Pelien had yet to look at her, her gaze was felt by her mother.

“Yes, I thought it would be nice if you joined me for lunch on the balcony.” Pelien finally turned to her daughter with a bright smile. To be honest Pelien felt a smidgen of guilt for her reaction to her daughter’s late arrival home the night before, and although she still believed in strict discipline, after a night’s rest she knew she could have been gentler with Adrama. “I’ve already ordered two fresh salads that should be delivered anytime.”

“Yes…that sounds nice.” Adrama smiled at her mother in a way that lightened Pelien’s conscience. “Is this the gown you’re going to wear this afternoon? It’s lovely.” Adrama reached down and stroked the fabric running her fingers along the hem.

Pelien nodded in agreement as another soft knock was heard at the door. Adrama crossed the room and opened the door for Rummel who was carrying a large, round tray with two covered plates. The servant carried the tray out to the balcony and set it on the tall, round iron table that was situated in the right corner of the long balcony.

“Shall we?” Pelien took her daughter’s hand and they ladies walked slowly out to their awaiting meal.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Meirelle returned from helping Alethea dress for the meeting with Adrama to her empty quarters for a quick fix of her uniform. When she peeked into the looking-glass, she gasped in horror. Wisps of hair had come apart from her usually neat braid and were floating about her head. Her dress had a few stains on it and had a rip in the side, where she had caught it on a door handle and pulled too hard to get it free.

She quickly changed her dress and took her hair out of the messy braid. She brushed it rapidly and braided it up again. As she did this, she noted that from being braided every single day, her hair was gaining a permanent wave to it. Smiling at this, she headed back out of the quarters and to the kitchen to help prepare dinner.

As she stepped inside, the warm fragrances of cooking food invaded her nose. Servants and cooks bustled to and fro inside the busy kitchen and Meirelle was nearly trampled more than once. She was tapped on the shoulder by a harried-looking woman, who said, "Miss, please watch those potatoes in the oven! Make sure they don't overcook!" and hurried off. Meirelle opened the oven and checked on the potatoes, which seemed to be cooking nicely. She decided to strike up a conversation with the maid beside her who was stirring a pot of thick stew.

"Hullo, miss," greeted Meirelle cheerily. "I'm Meirelle. Would you like to chat a while?"

The maid looked at her and smiled, saying, "My name is Thela. It would be nice to chat with you, as we have a while until our food is cooked. Where do you hail from, Meirelle? I reside here in Minas Tirith, and I am a maid of the castle."

Meirelle answered with "I am a maid of the Lady Dryea, the Lady Alethea and the Lady Ruiel. We have come to witness the wedding of Finduilas and Denethor."

Thela drew in a sharp breath at the name of Finduilas, and Meirelle was delighted to hear her distress. Had the rumours reached her yet? Casually, she asked, "Why, Thela, you seem distressed. Would it please you to tell me what is wrong?"

Thela looked about suspiciously, and leaned closer to Meirelle, whispering, "Have you not heard the rumours?"

Meirelle pretended to be surprised and asked, "What rumours? Tell me!"

Thela told a surprisingly detailed explanation of Finduilas' "false" identity and who she "really" was. Meirelle pretended to be shocked more and more with each word. When Thela finished, she asked, "Is-is this true?"

"Everyone thinks so, m'lady Meirelle," answered Thela, who hurriedly turned back to the stew which was close to boiling over. That reminded Meirelle of her potatoes and she pulled open the oven and peeped inside at them. These potatoes are baking beautifully! thought Meirelle, as she turned them over and covered them with more sauce.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[Nurumaiel]

Adrama suddenly smiled widely as her mother’s hand grabbed her own and held it tightly. Tears of joy threatened to come to her eyes, so with her free hand she brushed her eyes quickly. The evening before it had seemed like their fight was the end of the world, but now her mother loved her again.

She lifted the skirt of her dress up to a little below her knees so she could walk more freely, but at her mother's disapproving look she let the skirt fall down to her ankles again. The skirt of the dress was dark blue and very flowing. The top was white and long-sleeved. There was a green leather jacket that was split in the center of the center with a long strip of leather crisscrossing over the white shirt up to the top of the jacket, which was a little below the collar of the shirt. Adrama had gone to have her hair fixed early that morning, and now long dark curls spilled down her back.

"Mother, you do look very lovely yourself," Adrama said softly. She hesitated a moment, then spoke again in a faltering voice. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't know I would be gone so long. But I swear, Mother, I was doing nothing dishonorable."

Pelien made no answer, but slipped her arm around her daughter's waist. Adrama took this as a sign of agreement and reassurance, but the truth of the matter was Pelien was at a loss for words, because she didn't know if she could accept what Adrama had just told her.

As they went out onto the balcony, Adrama left her mother's side for a moment to look down at the street below. Her dark eyes fell upon Addruran, who was passing by, and a sorrowful sensation passed through her. "I miss him," she said, going back to her mother.

"Who?" Pelien asked, pulling out a chair for her daughter.

"Addruran." Adrama sighed wistfully and sat down. Her eyes were cast downwards, and she looked quite the picture of woe.

"He comes to see you all the time, but you always send him away."

Adrama didn't answer for awhile. Would her mother understand? "Well, you see, he's not the same anymore." And Pelien left it at that. They began their lunch.

[alaklondewen]

Pelien and Adrama had a lovely lunch. It reminded Pelien of the small tea parties she and her daughter would have when Adrama was a small girl. They would dress in their beautiful gowns and bring out the best tea set, and then the mother and daughter would sit at the table, Adrama’s legs dangling from her chair, and talk about the affairs of state. Pelien smiled inwardly as she remembered her daughter sitting up so straight and proper, trying to be the perfect little lady she was born to be.

As soon as they finished their salads, Rummel was summoned to clean off the area and to help Pelien dress. The servant tightly laced Pelien’s corset and then helped the woman into her gown. Looking in the mirror, the older woman touched her waist with her hands and turned from one to side to the other. She was aging, but she still had a nice figure…not to large, yet not tiny, tall and proud.

Pelien came down the stairs just as the guests arrived. The young ladies stood in the corner, close together, almost giggling nervously. Pelien noticed immediately and saw their behavior as a weakness…their inability to keep control over themselves.

“Ladies, welcome to my home. This is my daughter, Adrama. I’m not sure whether you were acquainted at the ball.” Pelien motioned to her daughter as Adrama took her place at her mother’s side.

“Thank you for letting us come here today, Lady Pelien.” The first of the young ladies approached the hostess. Pelien nodded as she looked the girl over. She seemed to be older than the others, slightly. Her thick chestnut hair made her stand out from the others, but Pelien liked the fact that she seemed more aggressive and looked her in the eyes without nervousness. “My name is Averyll. I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.” While Pelien raised her chin in acceptance, Averyll offered her hand and slightly curtsied. Averyll then motioned individually to the other ladies behind her. “Lady Vieana…” This lady seemed younger than Averyll with her small frame, blonde hair, and cool gray eyes. “…Lady Eleniel…” Eleniel was a beautiful young woman, whose long lashes and black hair made her appearance strikingly unique. “And here is Lady Tessa, the Lady Finduilas’ sister.”

Finduilas’ sister is she? Pelien thought smirking at the girl who appeared to be the youngest in the group. Tessa stepped forward and took Pelien’s hand. The young woman was strong, and Pelien could see fire in her eyes. Next, she offered her hand to Adrama, and as Pelien looked at her daughter, she saw the color drain from Adrama’s face.

After the introductions and greetings were made, Pelien led them into the parlor where she took her usual place in the high backed, floral chair. The other ladies were seated on the matching rose couches that faced one another. Rummel brought a large vase with fresh seasonal flowers and set it in the middle of the coffee table. Soon the tea was delivered and the ladies began daintily sipping from their cups and chit chatting about the weather and other unimportant topics.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

[Arien]

Alethea awoke early in the morning, and rolled out from underneath her covers as soon as her eyes were lifted. Alethea bathed and she quickly got dressed in to a white, laced dress with three- quarter length sleeves, and a skirt that casually fell to the floor. Her hair was brushed quickly while she opened the curtains to reveal the first lights of the morning creeping up on the city. She soon cast the bush aside on a near by table and headed for the door out into her smaller unused room, remembering to collect the key and book. She shut the door behind her and headed towards the doors that lead to the main corridor. Swiftly she placed the book back in its position, with key and all in it. And so she made her way down to the kitchens. Hardly anyone was waking yet and the large house was deserted. Its large painting glared at Alethea as she walked down the stairs on towards her destination.

As she rounded the corner she bumped into Ranne. “Good morn Ranne…” Alethea smiled pleasantly. She nodded gratefully in return and hurried off. Alethea turned to see where she was off to in such a hurry, it looked as though she was headed to her mothers room. No doubt she would want to speak to her daughters again this morning, well at least maybe to criticize Dryea again. Alethea was also surprised at herself, that she was so ready to sell her own sister out to her mother without a second thought. Or maybe it was to get back at her for her distasteful words against her and Adrama’s new friendship. Whatever it was it was strange. She had always loved her sister dearly and never would she have dreamed about doing such a thing. But then she thought back to what she had said to Adrama in the Park:

“I think she is false. This whole act she is putting on! Who does it fool? Her sweet smile, the air of innocence about her, even her beauty. She has fooled many of them, 'she is the perfect bride!' they all say over their over filled wine glasses and their overfilled heads. I don't know who she thinks she is fooling, but it is not I."

Had that really all been about Finduilas or….or was it Dryea she was talking about? Alethea didn’t want to think about, she didn’t know why she was thinking this about Dryea, her sister….her elder sister. The one she had always looked up to, that she always loved. Alethea could see no immediate reason why she would do this to her, but in the back of her mind something nagged slightly to be revealed. But Alethea shunned it away. That kind of thought would be scolded by her mother and sister and would not be any kind of asset to their plans. She shook it off and carried on down the corridor until she reached two large oak doors, which behind the kitchen was concealed.

She opened them slowly and looked around. A few of the maids were here, in fact all excluding Ranne. Alethea walked in a waved to Meirelle and sat down on the large wooden table where some raw vegetables were lain out. “Good morning Meirelle…” smiled Alethea to the maid as she cracked eggs into a frying pan over the boiling stove. Meirelle nodded back to her as she was quite busy with what she was doing, less she wanted to scald herself and Alethea certainly did not want that to happen to her and she some how suspected Meirelle did want it to happen either. Gwen and Rhe where also helping around the kitchen, and Gwen brought Alethea a cup of hot tea.

“Thank you Gwen,”

“That is ok Miss…” Alethea rolled her eyes slightly at the mention of Miss, but not disapprovingly. In an instance she flashed a smile at Gwen who looked rather embarrassed and quickly added, “….Alethea.” Alethea then stayed for a little while and finished her tea. She watched the m cook for a while and joked and conversed with them until Ranne came in and announced that Alethea was late for breakfast. Alethea gave a small sarcastic smile to Meirelle who laughed and then she was off to the dining room. She got their quickly as it had to be situated near to the kitchen, for obvious reasons. Alethea entered to see just Dryea sitting down at the table. A pang of guilt struck her and she wondered if she should apologise to her. Hesitating for a while they sat in complete silence. It was Dryea who broke it.

“Mother wishes to see us when we are finished, Ranne informed me just before you joined me.”

“Great….” Alethea murmured into her omelette. Dryea had heard, Alethea was informed of this by the clatter of Dryea’s spoon on to her china cup. Alethea slowly looked up to meet her sister face with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, it is great…” she boldly said, her eyes full of anger, “And these meetings are serious! If you are too childish to realise that then don’t bother…..!” she trailed off.

“Don’t bother what!” Alethea’s temper soared.

“Coming….trying to do anything! You could put this whole thing in jeopardy! You and your childish friend…Adrama…”

Alethea rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up..”

“No! Can’t you take anything seriously, is it all such a chore for mother special little girl?!?” Now she was shouting.

“Look!” Althea was shouting as well, she had even got up from her seat. “I’m sorry! Just let it go, I didn’t mean to tell her about him, I’m sorry!”

“But you did!……What are you jealous!” this was getting childish now, Dryea had realised that way back, although it was still dawning on Alethea.

“Please I’m sorry!” Alethea couldn’t believe the words coming from her mouth, why was she seeking forgiveness? She knew why, she loved her sister and didn’t want to upset her, but maybe this time she had gone too far. “Please, be quiet….just..”

“Fine, I will.” And Dryea left. She left. It shocked Alethea, they had never shouted like since they were young. Alethea slouched down into her chair, her head spinning from what had just happened. Why would she argue like that? Either of them for that matter they both knew better. Alethea sighed and took a drink of water and then made her way to her mothers rooms.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[Ealasaid]

As the tea progressed, Averyll was pleased to see that despite a rather shaky start her companions Tessa, Vieana, and Eleniel had managed to conquer their nervousness to a large extent and were fulfilling their roles beautifully. As the tea was sipped and the cakes daintily consumed, the conversation slid effortlessly from the weather to the relative merits of Minas Tirith over any other place in Middle Earth and, finally, to yet another rehashing of the welcoming ball. It was Tessa who first broached the topic of the rumors. Putting her delicate china teacup aside, she looked pointedly at Adrama.

"Everyone has been perfectly charming," she said in answer to a question from Adrama. "But we have noticed a rather shocking rumor flying around regarding my sister."

"Lady Finduilas?" asked Adrama, her face going several shades paler. She already appeared upset at the presence of Tessa, but being confronted so bluntly by the rumors, the young woman seemed positively ill. For a fleeting instant, Averyll was afraid Adrama might faint. Noticing the girl's reaction, Averyll cut a quick glance toward their hostess, Lady Pelien, who seemed to be holding her breath. The older woman's eyes had acquired a steely glint that Averyll had not noticed before.

Adrama cast a nervous glance at her mother. "I-I can't imagine what you are talking about."

"Then you must be the only one who hasn't heard it," Tessa continued in a light tone of voice that was undercut only by her piercing hazel eyes. "Even the servants are repeating the most ghastly falsehoods. I thought that influential and well-placed ladies, such as yourselves, would surely have heard all the talk and might even be able to tell us where such nonsense might have come from."

"Yes," chimed in Vieana. "Surely, you must have heard something."

Helplessly, Adrama shot another look toward her mother.

"Fiddlesticks!" barked Lady Pelien, coming to her daughter's rescue. "Idle gossip is the stuff of chambermaids and charwomen, well below both our station and our concern as ladies." Her sharp eyes traveled from face to face amongst the four Dol Amroth ladies. "I'm shocked that you would even bring such a thing up."

Tessa colored slightly and dropped her eyes, while Elen and Vieana looked as though they would have been happy to drop their teacups and flee the room.

Averyll smiled pleasantly and took a sip of tea as Pelien's steely gaze reached her. "Of course, you are absolutely right, Lady Pelien," she said smoothly. "Such things are far beneath the concern of all of us. But -" she let her blue eyes twinkle mischievously "- we have heard some of the most interesting things since arriving at court."

"Did you know, for instance," Averyll continued. "That Lady Elena's grandmother was a Haradarim slavegirl?" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Her grandfather bought her right off the back of a caravan! Isn't that fascinating?"

Pelien drew back as though she had been slapped. "That's utter nonsense!" Her teacup clattered against the saucer in her hand. "I've known Lady Elena since she was a baby and her mother before that. Her grandfather wouldn't even know where to find a caravan if his life depended on it."

"Oh!" Averyll's eyes widened innocently. "Well, it was her father's mother, from what I understand..."

"Yes!" exclaimed Vieana. "I heard that, too. I think she was a dancer of some sort."

"Was she really?" asked Adrama breathlessly. "How ghastly for Elena!"

Pelien put her cup and saucer down on the tray with sharp clink. "That's enough!" she snapped, looking daggers at her own daughter, whose face closed like a book. Adrama sunk visibly lower into the rose-colored couch. "I've never heard such rubbish."

"Oh, but it's hardly rubbish!" protested Tessa, rejoining the fray. "I heard it, too, from one of the most reliable sources!"

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Síriel rolled out of bed earlier than usual, the sunlight falling in strips over her pillow and shaking her from her dreams. Muttering under her breath about Tíriel and her strange desires for light and fresh air, she rose and closed the curtains, returning the comfortable darkness to the room. However, her solitude was shortlived, as a rustling in the hall soon alerted her to the presence of the chambermaids. A soft knock on her door brought her to her feet again, and she crossed the room lightly, pulling on a silver housecoat as she went.

The girl outside looked tired, her dark hair was disheveled and her eyes ringed in purple. Early morning didn't agree with her either, Síriel thought wryly as she took the two folded notes from the tray in the girl's hands. "Thank you." The girl curtsied and scurried away as Síriel was left standing in the doorway looking at the two folded slips of paper.

The first was in her brother's even hand. She unfolded it quickly and read the contents. Denethor was her little brother, and their old comeradeship was still remembered at times.

Sister Sír-
How does a masquerade ball sound to you? A little advance notice perhaps, for you to choose a costume.

Two red feathers dropped out of the folds of paper and into Síriel's hand. She squealed with glee, how wonderful of her brother to let her know the news a little early. What would she wear? She rushed to the closet, nearly dropping the second note in her haste. The second note. Síriel paused, looking at the crisp letters on the front of the note. The hand was unfamiliar to her, and she unfolded it slowly.

Lady Síriel,
As per your request, I am sending this up with your father's chamberlain. Would you care for a short walk with me in two days time at two in the afternoon? We still have the unsettled matter of the value of my services between us.
Thenidir of the Guard

Biting her lip with excitement Síriel flipped the note over and scribbled hastily on the back:

Dear Sir- It seems we have much to discuss. I shall meet you in my father's garden at the appointed time.
-S.

Ringing the bell for a maid, Síriel paced the floor impatiently. Once this note was delivered she must pick a walking costume, and once she was properly attired, she must choose a gown for Denethor's ball. There was simply too much to do, too much to do...

By half past eleven on the day she was to meet Thenidir, Siriel was looking her best. Her straight dark hair had been bundled into an elaborate twist on the back of her head, with the two red feathers stuck in at an attractive angle. She wore a flowing dark red skirt with black embroidery and flat black slippers. Her blouse was black and fitted with long sleeves to protect her white skin. A parasol was all she needed now, before her outfit was complete. This one will do, she thought, pulling a red and silver sunshade from her closet and unfolding it experimentally. She placed it over her shoulder and gave it a melodramatic twirl. Yes, it would do.

Biting her lip with barely suppressed excitement, she turned to her ball gowns. So many choices, and she had so short a time before dinner.

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

[Manardariel]

"I heard it, too, from one of the most reliable sources!"

Tessa took a sip of her tea, trying not to snort in her teacup. This was just too funny. She let her eyes wander over her hosts. Pelien looked impatient, fluttered, disbelieving. But there was something more. Tessa could just see the brain- work going on behind her elaborate hairstyle. Come on, believe is! It is likely, come on! Tessa silently pleaded. She sat the teacup down, and watched Pelien. The lady seemed to seriously consider what she had just heard.

“What I wonder,” Pelien said. “Is that nobody has found out about this before.”

Vieana started to cough on her biscuits. Tessa quickly patted her on the back, asked the bystanding maid for a glass of water and looked Pelien straight in the eye.

“You see, what I think is that many people just do not care for the rumors. I mean, surely the noble, influencial ladies like yourself have better things to discuss than such idle talk. At the provincial court back in Dol Amroth, yes, that´s another thing. You see, we´re used to finding out things like this. At a boring court like in Dol Amroth, it´s all you can do before being bored to tears, if you see what I mean. But here, in the political center of the country...surely, you talk about politics and such with your friends. We country girls, know so little about all that... I hope we haven´t bored you with all this!” Tessa finished with a half embaressed sort of head-hanging, trying hard not to burst out laughing at Pelien´s very forced smile.

Instead, she turned her attention to the young lady Adrama, next to her. She was a pretty lady. Tessa guessed her a bit younger than Finduilas, though there was something around her that made her look girlish and vulnerable in some sort of way. Tessa couldn´t quite tell what it was: maybe having to live with a cobra as a mother? She coudn´t imagine Pelien being a very loving mother, couldn´t see her embracing her little daughter, couln´t imagine Adrama coming to her with a bloody knee or a mean dream to tell. There was a hurt in her eyes, a pain of some sort that made her gain Tessa´s sympathy. The younge girl frowned- before coming here, she had thought her parents were demanding. That was nothing, nothing against these women. She decided to keep a close watch on Adrama for the next few weeks.

“You know,” Adrama said. “I think it really is a pity about Elena though. She´s a bright girl, and friendly, too. I just hope this doesn´t go into the public, she wouldn´t deserve it.”

“Yes,” Tessa sighed, and this time what she said was not an act or a lie. “We can´t choose our families, can we?”

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

Elven maiden Earwen's post:

The tea party was going quite well, Eleniel thought as she listened to Averyll converse with Pelien. She hadn’t spoken much during the whole party. Tessa was quite right. Pelien was a Cobra. At least twice Elen was ready to drop her cup and run. But her daughter Adrama didn’t seem so bad. A beautiful woman she was. Probably only a few years older than myself.

Eleniel took a dainty sip of tea. She listened to what the girls were saying. She had to hold beck her laughter as they said something about Elena. Elena was a nice woman, but, as much as she liked the girl she still thought what they were saying was quite rude, but funny.

“We can’t choose our families, can we?” Elen straightened up at this comment by Tessa. A pity it was she thought. She took a small bite from her biscuit. There was an awkward gap in their conversation and Elen couldn’t think of a thing to say. She couldn’t help but hope to leave soon.

[ August 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Nurumaiel]

Adrama felt her eyes narrowing as she listened to the conversation. And suddenly she felt very frightened, too. She didn’t know why, but Tessa was frightening her. And because she didn’t know why, it frightened her even more. She moved closer to her mother, touching her arm and then feeling reassured. Fear turned into anger towards Tessa. Adrama was a very sharp young woman, and she could sense that Tessa and the others were secretly laughing at her mother.

And then when Tessa had tried to frighten her… Adrama wondered why she had acted so afraid moments before. What did she care if Tessa found out how much her sister was hated? Adrama suddenly had a good mind to tell Tessa exactly what she thought of Finduilas, but her mother’s presence kept her from it. Annoyed, Adrama bit her lip, but she had to admit that would be ruining her reputation.

I wish Mother had never thought up this tea party, Adrama thought, trying to keep her anger from showing. Or if she had, I wish she hadn’t invited such utter fools. And I’m not going to stand for all this attacking on my mother. Stiffening her back, she opened her mouth to say, “And I, Lady Tessa, never thought that such high and noble people like yourselves would immerse yourselves in such spitefulness.” However, before the words could leave her mouth, she saw Tessa looking at her, and her mouth closed. Tessa looked almost friendly. Almost.

Inquiring looks from the other ladies were shot towards Adrama. They had seen that she was going to say something, and they didn’t want her to refrain from it. With some confusion, she covered herself by saying a few sentences about Elena. “Yes,” Tessa said in reply to that. “We can’t choose our families, can we?”

Normally Adrama would have answered comments like that with silent agreement, but the thought came into her mind that Tessa’s comment was directed towards her. On a sudden impulse, she spoke. “That is true,” she said. “But I love my family, I’m proud of them, and in this case I had no need to choose them. I doubt if I could have chosen such a wonderful family.” She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it, smiling up at the shocked yet still pleased face. What did it matter if her mother thought it inappropriate to say such a thing in front of company? Let the whole of Gondor hear it… it was true.

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Síriel glided down the steps to her father's garden at precisely two in the afternoon. Her eyes were sparkling with fun and she whistled under her breath as she went. A handsome soldier, a masquerade ball, and a delightful costume... what more could she want in one day? Even the weather was perfect, smilingly sunny, and not too warm for Síriel's fitted black top. She crossed a back hall and pushed out through the black iron and glass doors that led to the small walled garden where she had promised to meet Thenidir.

He was there waiting, tall and resplendent in his guardsman's uniform. He bowed low as she approached, and Síriel replied with a deep curtsey. Slipping her arm through his the two walked demurely through the rows of fragrant herbs and flowers, their bright scents making Síriel's head reel. "So," she began experimentally, "what service can you do me today?"

Thenidir chuckled, rubbed a finger across his jawline, freshly shaven in fact. The girl didn't mince words. "Well, milady, I can show you a good time today, if you'll come out into the city with me." Síriel considered this. She wasn't dressed to go into the city, but then again, if she was fit to be seen by Thenidir, what did she care about the common people? She smiled, leaned hard against his shoulder and sighed.

“I couldn’t, you know. It simply wouldn’t be proper.” She looked up at him regretfully, knowing that he would respond the way she wanted him to. The invitation was promptly retreated, and Síriel spun her parasol delightedly as she listened to Thenidir elaborate on throwing caution to the winds, and how lovely it would be. She sighed heavily, batted her eyelashes (ridiculously, if only she knew it) and finally spoke. “I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but let’s go, just this once!” She smiled up at Thenidir, who smiled back tentatively and took her hand.

They left the garden through the gate in the stone wall, finding themselves in the bustling streets of Minas Tirith. Thenidir led Síriel through the crowded marketplaces and the back alleys, pointing out things that the Steward’s daughter had never had time or opportunity to discover. The stall where the best paper for making children’s kites could be bought, the bakery that sold the most delicious cakes and pastries, the milliner that could transform the drabbest hat into the most delightful. Síriel squealed with delight as they passed the milliner’s shop, peering inside at a delectable creation of red feathers and lace that greatly resembled her costume for the masquerade.

The masquerade. Síriel stopped still in the street, Thenidir pausing a step behind her to look at her with worried eyes. “My brother’s masquerade ball! I had forgotten… Oh I have no time to get ready.” Her eyes were apologetic as she lifted her skirts and turned back in the direction of the Citadel. Looking upward at the heights of the city made her open her eyes wide with astonishment. They had come so far, it must be a full hour’s walk back! “Where are we?” Síriel asked, hesitantly, the lower circles were not very familiar to her, and she wondered how she would get back quickly enough to prepare for the masquerade.

“I’ll take you back right away, Lady Síriel.” Thenidir spoke in a low voice, touching her elbow with his hand.

“No, find me a carriage, it will be faster that way.” Thenidir nodded and lifted her hand to his lips before turning and walking quickly away in the direction of the nearest garrison of the guard. Síriel huddled against a wall, slightly embarrassed to be seen alone here, in the lower levels, dressed in afternoon clothes as the sun began to sink behind Mindolluin. Oh how she hoped Thenidir wouldn’t be long.
************************************************** *

Tíriel stood in front of a mirror, surveying her costume. The white gown she wore was extremely becoming, if a little lower cut in the front than the conservative Tíriel preferred. The low waistline was set with small green stones that formed a belt around her waist, the sleeves were full and gauzy giving the illusion of wings. A long plume of feathers proceeded from the bustle of her dress and swept the floor. Her jeweled and feathered half-mask had a long black bill and black stones set at the corners of the eyes. She held the mask in front of her face for a moment, a satisfied smile creeping across her lips. A wonderful costume, and she would match Síriel so perfectly.

“A swan indeed,” Gaerlin whispered in her ear, as he crept up behind her and put his arms around her waist.

Tíriel relaxed in his hug for a moment before scolding him quietly, “Don’t rumple my plumage, you big oliphaunt.” Gaerlin laughed and turned her around, looking at her dress with approval.

He bowed ceremoniously. “Are you ready to go, my lady?” he asked her, his eyes still laughing. She leaned in and kissed his cheek quickly before nodding, and allowing him to lead her out of the house to the waiting carriage.

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Varda's post

Party Preparation Post
The sun shining, despite the dark clouds to the east, Elena sat out on the terrace sipping her tea. She had a lovely view of Minas Tirith from this house – some levels below her, and above her the white towers rising up high above her.

Her tea getting cold, she rang for the maid to bring her a fresh pot. The maid duly came – bringing with her a white envelope, addressed to the Lady Elena. Intrigued, Elena’s eyes scanned the writing, before turning it over and opening it. Reading the contents, her eyes lit up with excitement.

A masquerade ball! This was new to her, and it should be fun. Leaving her tea behind her, she left the terrace and hurried up to her rooms, anxious to decide what to wear well in advance.

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

Two days later, an hour before the ball was due to start, Elena was fastening herself into her exquisite gown. A beautiful shade of blue, almost turquoise, she had had it embroidered with silver to make it even more elaborate. Make up already done, she left her dark curls loose, save to let the maid fasten back part of it, holding it in place with a pin, encrusted with shimmering blue stones.

Elena’s shoulders and neck felt bare in this dress, which was off the shoulders, and after fastening a necklace round her neck, she put a silver shawl over her shoulders, picked up her mask, and set off for the ball.


Elora's post:

"Alethea, where is your mask?" Ruiel's exasperated voice snapped at her younger daughter, who flinched. Dryea chimed in with a biting comment.

"Can't you see mother? She is already wearing it." Alethea inflated as much as she could in her restrictive gown with righteous outrage. Her mouth opened to reply and then snapped shut as Ruiel let a burst of savage temper loose.

"SILENCE!" Both Dryea and Alethea stared at their mother uneasily, who quivered in rage. It was a rare sight to behold. "War looms over us, all we have worked for could rest in ruins. Death could come, and you still insist on bickering.

I did not spend my youth in the fetid backwaters of Dol Amroth to come to this end. Of that, ladies, may you be certain."

Ruiel gathered herself as she spoke in that dire tone. There was threat in the room that both had never seen directed at them. Their mother favoured them both with a harsh stare that seemed to bore through to their spines and then snapped a ridiculously feathered fan out and turned away, furiously fanning her face. Dryea and Alethea studied their mother's back in silence for the moment.

"The carriage has arrived, m'ladies," a male voice discreetly intoned from the door of the reception room the three women stood waiting in. Alethea snapped from her shock at the raw display of distress and managed an uneven nod. The footman bowed and withdrew, beating a hasty retreat.

"Mother, we are not so unschooled to allow our disagreements to hinder us," Dryea said.
"We know how important tonight is," Alethea added, sending a stung glance to her sister.

"I do wonder," Ruiel murmured after a pause. Dryea flashed with offense. How tiring to be treated as a child time and again. Alethea was still pondering the implications of her mother's words. Would she really abandon them if they proved an impediment? Her daughters?

"We should go mother, lest we are late. Rumours could start whilst we are not there to guide them," Dryea urged with some impatience. Ruiel glanced at her brightly feathered fan and grimaced at the fireplace in front of her. The Gondorian concept of amusement was absurd. A masquerade! She turned back to Dryea and Alethea, now calmer and in control of her frayed temper and demeanour.

Now was not the time to crumble, after years of hard work and danger. She had already sent a dispatch back to Umbar announcing her strategy, through Dryea. Her eldest daughter was keen to make a start on it, thinking it her own project. She made no secret of the pride she took in being entrusted with something as important as inciting civil war in an enemy country. It stuck in Alethea's craw for a reason Ruiel could make little sense of. After all, Alethea had showed little inclination in the business of espionage.

Alethea bore watching, lest her unenthusiastic opinion of events herald an unhealthy attraction to Gondor. Once this was over, Ruiel would remove Alethea from Gondor. "Mother," Dryea inquired as she stepped towards the door.

Ruiel closed her fan and let it dangle from her wrist. They'd had but two days to plan this and much hinged on the night. She walked forward, taking Alethea by the arm lest her daughter dawdle. The three made their way from the manor and into the carriage in order to arrive at the Masquerade.

Only two days, yet they'd managed to acquire luxuriantly decorated gowns and masques as well as plot and plan. Ruiel inwardly smiled at the irony that they would attend in the costume of the exotic wetland birds of southern Gondor. Brightly dyed, rich plumage floated with the woman as they walked. Each had chosen a bird to become. Ruiel had chosen the peacock, and shimmered in irridescent green-blue.

Dryea was even more spectacular in her choice for plumage. She was radiant in a delicate rose hue of the elegant flamingo, the subtle understatement thrusting her perfect beauty forward to shine. Alethea had chosen the sea eagle for herself. She was sleek in white feathers, the stark contrast of deep, glowing red accenting her form.

As the carriage trotted its way to the citadel, discussion continued within.

"Remember daughters," Ruiel cooly said, "Incite uncertainty carefully. Cast doubt discreetly. By the end of the evening, both Findulias and the Stewards must be discredited."

Dryea waved her hand at her mother in annoyance. It was not the first time Ruiel had reminded them of this.

"Yes, mother! I know. We both know," she said. Alethea seemed not so sure.

"This is dangerous mother," she said hesitantly.

"These are dangerous times, Alethea. Do not ever claim the rumours as your own, deny any opinion you may have stated if you are questioned. Let the others jump to their own conclusions. The petty nobles of Minas Tirith are adept at such things."

"Mother, that is lying," Alethea said in opposition. Dryea rolled her eyes and smirked out the window, a sense superiority rolling from her as Ruiel wondered over how she could have such different daughters.

"Better lying than dying, Alethea," she said harshly. "And if all else fails, blame your new little friend Adrama. The squawking of Pelion should be distraction enough alone." Dryea laughed richly as Alethea objected.

"But mother, she's my -"

"Enemy. She is Gondorian, she is part of Minas Tirith's most powerful Houses. She is your sworn foe. You are Umbarian, or have you forgotten," Dryea interjected cooly. Ruiel sat back and let the two sisters run, observing keenly as the carriage rocked gently.

"So too, then dear sister, is Rhir," Alethea snapped back. Dryea went pale, eyes widening.

"Excellent observation, Alethea. You would both do well to remember who is who tonight. Of all people, we three should know that not all is as it seems. Foes can be allies, and allies foes."

The carriage came to a halt and the sound of footmen jumping to the paved ground was heard from within the carriage.

"And we shall see tonight who is exactly whom," Ruiel finished. The door to the carriage opened as the three women raised their exquisite masques into place. They alighted gracefully, one by one, and swept into the Masquerade every inch the noblewomen of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth. Beneath the warm and gentle light of the torches, Dryea's radiance grew.

Murmurs already eddied through those assembled. Ruiel wore a well pleased smile, the thrill of the night bringing her alive. As the women swept into the great hall in their feathered and jewelled finery, Ranne dealt with yet more business that arose from the 2 days of planning that had passed.

A discreet tap at the hidden door in Ruiel's study came exactly on time. She opened it and passed to the grubby, dishlevelled man a heavy stack of phamplets.

"Distribute these when you are given the signal before sunrise and you will be paid double," she informed him.
"Where is this place," he asked as he peered around her shoulders at the strange room behind her.
"Ask foolish questions like that and you'll have no further need of gold," she added in the same brusque tone. The beggar blinked at her in surprise and then nodded his head in imitation of a suitably chastened man.
"How do I know I'll get my money," he said suspiciously, head bowed.
"We will make sure we find you, no matter what happens. It's up to you ensure you will be glad of our finding you when it comes to pass. Now go. The night will not last forever," Ranne snapped.

The beggar ducked his head and turned away to start on his strange task. As he wandered his way back down the levels from the wealthy to the general city sections, he wondered about that strange room and the phamplets. Not for the first time, he wished he could read. Had he been able to, he may have thought twice about distrubuting them in the taverns and settlements.

He'd want a great deal more gold for distrubting lies about the Steward, even if they did bear the herald of the high-born House of Sador. Protected by his innocence, he instead stashed the phamplets and went in search of an ale and some company. No need to spend his time waiting for the signal in bored isolation. Besides, he was going to be rolling in gold soon and could afford the largesse.

Back at the manor, Ranne wished her hands with a moue of distaste. The room still stank of the beggar. It needed to be aired out, but not now. She had to keep an eye on the kitchens of the Citadel so that Ruiel could be kept apprised of what occured behind the scenes. And if, by seeming chance, she encountered Rhir, she could perhaps warn him about the watch on Dryea.

[ August 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Eckthelion fidgeted nervously with the elaborate collar of the embroidered doublet that he'd slipped on for the occasion. The damask material was rich and radiant in striking tones of blue and silver, or so his daughter Tiriel had constantly assured him.

Only for Tiriel would he consent to don such a preposterous outfit. He would have been happy wearing his everyday tunic with its muted shades of tan and brown, perhaps carting about a gilded mask if some hint of gaiety was absolutely necessary. But his daughter would not hear of it and insisted he dress the part.

Both to please Tiriel and to impress the citizens of Gondor, he'd slipped on a tunic in the style of the old days and arrayed himself as Mardil Voronwe the Steadfast, first of the ruling Stewards, with an elaborate sword hanging by his side. There was no escaping now. He'd have to go through with this masquerade to please his dear children especially the graceful young Finduilas who was soon to join their family.

He extended his hand towards his daughter Tiriel, and swept her close to him with a paternal embrace whispering how lovely she appeared this evening. She and her husband fell in behind him as Eckthelion beckoned Denethor and Finduilas over to his side.

After greeting the bride-to-be, he flashed a quick look back at Tiriel. "Your sister? Where is she?" he queried over his shoulder. His voice was calm but exhibited an underlying irritation.

Tiriel's eyes flashed bright with a hint of secrets witheld, but the younger sister revealed nothing as the parade continued its march down the hallway towards the entrance to the ballroom. Just inside the room, they could hear the sound of instruments playing softly with voices rising and falling as the outstanding citizens of Gondor miled about waiting for the Steward's family to make its way inside.

Eckthelion gave one last thought to searching for Siriel but then sighed and shrugged his shoulders, reminding himself to check up on her later. As he strode through the doorway flanked by his son and daughter-to-be, the gathering crowds turned to face him and applauded heartily showing their approval for this wise and wiley man who shouldered so many of the burdens of state.

Eckthelion modestly dropped back and led Denethor and Finduilas forward so that they could bask in the radiance and affection of the citizens of Minas Tirith. Yet the Steward could not help but notice that there was a lull in the applause and a certain hint of reticence as Finduilas stepped forward to take her bow.

Eckthelion said nothing. The look on his face did not change in the slightest. Yet he took note of the difference and vowed to keep his ears open to discover more about what was going on. Within an instant the musicians had again begun to play, and his son and Finduilas were swept away together in the first round of dancing and congratulations.

[ August 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Manardariel]

Tessa tucked an off-coming hair behind her ear. Impatiently, she tapped her foot against the floor. She couldn´t move. She couldn´t even breathe properly. In the elaborate invitation Tessa had recieved two days ago, a masquade had sounded like fun. She had thought a ‘Sailor´s Sweetheart’, her costume made of blue dress, striped shawl and golden buttons would be a rather comfortable creation. Well, she´d been wrong. Apparently everything around here came with a corset tight enough to squueze water out of a rock. Suddenly, something caught her nose, and Tessa did the one thing you should never do in a corset: she sneezed.

Half an hour later she had replaced the corset by a normal underdress –no one would care how she looked, anyway- and was just back in time to hear the herald cry: “The Steward Eckthelion with his family!”

Applause branded up. Tessa clenched her fists in her sleeves as it stiffeled itsself, as though Finduilas appearance was a large hand asking for silence. Hags! They´re so jealous, you can almost smell it! Dressed up as a butterfly in a just ravishing combination of multicolored pastels, Finduilas was looking –if possible- more beautiful than ever. Averyll poked her in the side.

“Try to smile,” she wispered sympathetically. “I know this is hard, but...”

“Smile!” Tessa turned on her. Forcing her foice down, she hissed back: “Smile! Smile at the women who are in turn of ruining my sister´s future, her dream of leaving Dol Amroth? Smile at the people who treat us like the dirt under their shoes? Honestly, Averyll, you can´t be serious....” Her voice had become louder. People were turning around, staring.

“Shh!” Averyll wispered back urgently. “You´re making it all worse can´t you see that? These rumors can´t hurt her, not really. Denethor and th steward knows it´s rubbish...”

Tessa stared at her. She wanted to shake her, hard. “You don´t understand!” Clenching her teeth, not to scream, she grabbed Averyll´s shoulders. “This isn´t about the truth! This is about what the people think is the truth. I don ´t want my sister being spat on in the streets. I don´t want thing like this to happen...” She trailed off, letting go of Averyll. The woman had understood. They walked around a bit, wispering casually about the ladies around them.

“And of course,” Averyll said with a half-snort, “Lady Dreya of Dol Amroth is being the star of the evening...”

Tessa stopped in her tracks. Puzzled, she looked at Averyll. “Of Dol Amroth?”

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

[elven maiden Earwen]

Eleniel stood in the ballroom waiting for Finduilas to come out. What’s taking so long she thought impatiently to herself. So far all they had done was wait for Denethor and his-bride-to-be, to enter with his sisters and Ecthelion. So much fun they we having, Elen thought sarcastically to herself.

After they had left the tea two days before, which had gone surprisingly well, she had come to her room and found a beautiful invention inviting her to a Masquerade Ball, in honor of Finduilas. Naturally Elen was delighted at the thought of the ball and hurried to figure out what she would wear. She had gotten a dress made for her, though she wouldn’t be going as anything but a young woman wearing a dress. It was a deep burgundy shade, quite grand, embroidered in gold thread. Its sleeves were off the shoulder and halfway down they changed from burgundy to black. Her mask was of the same colors with a large golden feather sticking from it. It was annoying her so much that she was about ready to pull it out.

Her long black hair was between a bun and curls. A layer of it was pulled up and the rest hung down curled. She wore a golden necklace with a large golden heart pendent, and a black shawl to finish her outfit. Everything about her outfit seemed perfect, but of course she had to wear the corset. It had been pulled so tightly she could hardly breathe. I’ll probably faint soon, she thought trying to adjust it so she could get a little air. Tessa, who had just come back, gave her a teasing smile as she watched Eleniel try to get some oxygen.

“The Steward Ecthelion with his family!” Elen heard a clear voice say. Finally! Elen started to clap and forced herself to smile.

“Doesn’t Finduilas look beautiful?” Elen whispered to Vienna. Vienna nodded as she watched the couple walked towards them and then start to dance. She was about to say something to Averyll when she realized Tessa and her had wandered off.

“Do you know where Tessa, and Averyll, have gone?” She asked looking around. Vienna seemed to snap out of her thoughts and she quickly searched the room.

“Lets go find them” Vienna said as she set off to look for them. Elen quickly hurried to catch up to Vienna who was moving quite fast.

“Slow down. People might think were up to something” Elen hissed as she caught up to Vieana. Vienna slowed down. They passed many young women who stared at Finduilas. Many of there expressions told Elen that they longed to be her, they were jealous. Many of these girls’ mothers stared wistfully and sadly at their daughters and Denethor. They probably hoped that they would marry Denethor. Not an outsider like Finduilas.

“There they are” Vienna said pointing to where Tessa and Averyll walked. “Come on.” She said quickening her pace again. The two girls ahead were whispering to each other and in a couple moments they would be in earshot, so they would soon here what the girls were saying.

“And of course, Lady Dryea of Dol Amroth is being the star of the evening...” she heard Averyll say. Tessa stopped.

“Of Dol Amroth?”

“Yes her sister Alethea, her mother and Dryea are all from Dol Amroth.” Vieana said catching up to them. “ The Morthaniawen’s.”

“Odd, I’ve never heard of them before. But Dol Amroth is big enough that, I may not have met everyone. “ Elen paused in confusion. “But by the looks of them, they are very rich so I would think they would be a noble of Dol Amroth. At dinner my sister always discussed all the nobles, probably because she liked that one boy, but obviously he didn’t like her. I mean who would like such a witch.” Elen looked up,” But that is besides the point.” The more she spoke the more confused she became. Vienna tapped her shoulder lightly.

“I think you should be quiet” she said, “You are starting to confuse me,” she added quietly. Elen smiled at her.

“I’m starting to confuse myself” Elen said before walking off to get a drink.

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[Everdawn]

As per usual, Vieana was late. She had decided to take an afternoon nap, which was odd for her, though she had been feeling overly tired lately. She was only woken when Lessawen came into her room to look for her washing. Vieana had been very surprised at this, and when Lessawen told her the time, Vieana dissolved into, what can only be described as- panic mode.

She had rummaged through her wardrobe odding aside numerous grey and white dresses that crowded the racks. And instead, picked out a dark navy assortment striped down the middle with silver. Well, Dol Amroth must stand for something... She told herself. Lessawen had a terrible time trying to adjust the strings on the corset, Vieana fainted twice. "Not to worry Lessawen, it does happen."

"But not twice in a row m'lady" Lessawen replied. "It happens" Vieana repeated, placing at the same time a silver circlet round her hair and the same blue lily jewel that her husband had given her, three years ago. "I need an escort." she said expectedly to the maid, and together the two hurried out to the ball.

It was soon enough that she found Elen, and to her distress she could not find Tessa or Averyll. “Doesn’t Finduilas look beautiful?” Elen whispered to Vienna. Vieana just nodded. Ah! Its times like these I miss my Dardanir. Bless them.

Elen and Vieana sucessfuly (as they supposed) found their two companions, “And of course, Lady Dryea of Dol Amroth is being the star of the evening...” she heard Averyll say. Tessa stopped.

“Of Dol Amroth?”

“Yes her sister Alethea, her mother and Dryea are all from Dol Amroth.” Vieana said catching up to them. “ The Morthaniawen’s.”
Elen seemed very confused by this. “I’m starting to confuse myself” Elen said before walking off to get a drink.

"Neither have i" said Vieana turning to the others. "Neither of my sisters have, and i know that becuase you know what one sister is like.. And i have five, not to mention that at least my father would have met them and... "he knows everyone in Dol Amroth" It really is pathetic. You know what i think, and this is in my professional, six-gossiping-sisters-blood opinion, I say that we in time confront them. The younger one if possible, she seems more approachable then her older sister... And their mother, she seems rather nice dont you think."

Vieana paused to gain breath, she felt her eyelids dropping. "Why am i so tired this week!" she exclaimed. "Now, I dont want to hear that any of you have been calling that Pelien lady a snake its unkind.. Tessa.." Tessa raised her hands as in mock truce. "You called her lady, Vieana, even in the face of betrayel you are still well mannered." Tessa laughed at her.

[alaklondewen]

Pelien sipped a glass of wine while she watched Finduilas and Denethor dance across the floor. Feeling utterly disgusted by the princess butterfly, she scanned the room for the Dol Amroth ladies who had visited her two days prior. There they stood all huddled together making over their princess like maggots on rotting cabbage. She was convinced Finduilas had heard the vicious rumors and sent her little mascots to do her dirty work. What a pathetic woman...how would she handle her duties as the Steward's wife, when she didn't have what it takes to stand up for herself? If Adrama had had a similar problem she at least would have confronted the individual on her own without sending lackeys to do it for her. “The poor thing, she must really have something to hide,” Pelien whispered almost inaudibly into her glass.

“What was that dear?” Sador leaned in closely with a childish smile spread across his chiseled face. “Have I told you yet how stunning you look this evening?”

“Yes, you have…but you may tell me again.” Finduilas flew from Pelien’s mind as her husband complimented her appearance. In reality, Pelien did look amazing. Her costume was that of a cobra. The dress was sleek and smooth. Its shiny blackness was contrasted by two wide white stripes across her bust line. An elaborate collar rose behind her head like the hood of the notorious venomous snake and displayed two white circles on its back. The tall, proud woman carried a black mask with a white streak on each cheek, and hanging from a chain around her long neck was a forked tongue. Her costume was particularly eye-catching, if not deliciously appropriate.

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]