Coirë (Stirring, Pre-Spring) 3rd month, year 1101 TA
Lady Rîniel, Handmaiden of Galadriel, Honored Ambassador to the Greenwood Realm,
This invitation is graciously extended to you by Mistress Dureth of the House of Saeben, requesting your presence at four tomorrow for a meal and music, followed by quality conversation and games. Your presence is most sought.
With respect,
Lady Dureth, Hostess of the Court of Thranduil Oropherion
Rîniel closed the slip of paper calmly, tucking it inside her satchel as she studied the sun dial in one of the lower gardens. If she was correct, the House of Saeben was only just outside the main fortress' walls. And if she was also correct, the sprawling home in front of her was one in the same.
Immediately, she was repulsed. There was no mistake that Lady Dureth was a perfect homemaker. The gardens were spotless, the home's exterior walls perfectly stoned and inlayed with wood colored russet and gold, but the house itself looked unlike one that should grace the front of the elvenking's palace. It had too much of its own characteristic quality...and it was quiet.
Rîniel paused to listen to the gardens before letting her guards lead her into the breezy entrance. There were no birds singing softly in the trees. Even the wind was still, and although Rîniel tried to hear, the trees near her were neither humming nor whispering. She shook her head. Perhaps the Lady of the House did not like birds...it wouldn't surprise Rîniel in the least.
It was only a moment before the home's guardian bowed and left her at the door to a sunlit room. Her guards made to position themselves on either side of the door before she shook her head firmly. "At ease, my lords."
One's gruff tone came from his helmet hesitatingly. "But, my lady-"
She only giggled and shooed them away, before stepping in the room to greet her hosts.
She immediately raised one eyebrow as she dipped into a curtsy, noting the curious silence of the room as well. Lady Dureth stood motionless beside her chair, the characteristic dark blue of her garment choice standing out from the pearl of the walls. Lord Daechir stood silently behind her with his hand on her back, his eyes twinkling merrily at the newcomer. Lord Silevion stood hastily on her entrance, bowing low while attempting to shuffle the unruly stack of books on the table back into place. He rose, and there was enough silence to hear a pin drop before Lady Dureth spoke.
"Lady Rîniel, how good of you to come," greeted the elleth calmly, moving to curtsy before Rîniel.
Rîniel stepped forward eagerly, glad that someone had at last spoke. "It is my pleasure, my lady. My lords," she said, curtsying again to both.
Lord Daechir laughed loudly, and Rîniel noted Lady Dureth flinched at the sound. He strode to Rîniel and kissed her hand, smiling kindly. "Lady Rîniel, it has been too long. I am almost too contented for words that I am able to spend an afternoon in your company."
Lord Silevion was next, his manner much more subdued and contrite than his son's. "Well met, Lady Rîniel of Lothlorien. I'm pleased that you have graced my home with your presence. Please be seated."
The three hosts waited calmly while Rîniel moved to a couch in the circle, and all sat down when she did. Rîniel shifted a little, surprised to find their courtly manners so in place and tactful. It was almost stifling, for she never allowed her lady friends in Lothlorien to be so courtly. "Your home is beautiful, Lady Dureth. I found the lilac in your garden especially appealing."
There was a real smile, though small on the lady's face, but Lord Daechir replied hastily before his sister could speak. "Yes," he said, fondly turning to his sister, "she does a wonderful work of planning and analyzing our home's needs. She was trained by the best tutors." Lady Dureth's eyes looked studiously into her lap as he continued praising different aspects of the home for the next five minutes, and Rîniel watched as the lady's face grew more flushed as he continued.
"And that's just it," Lady Dureth finally exclaimed, cutting her brother off from a detailed account of the dining hall. "We must show Lady Rîniel where we take our tea, not simply tell her of it's graceful qualities." She stood, quickly forcing her brother and father, who had stayed quiet since he first spoke, to stand also. "Take my arm, Lady Rîniel, we shall walk in each other's company to our meal."
Rîniel obeyed gladly, relieved to be released from the flood of information about the House of Saeben's grounds. The walk to the meal was quiet, giving Rîniel time to observe the stark cleanliness of the hallways and breezy paths through the treetops, and the sculptures that showed not even a particle of dirt or dust.
"Everything is so clean, my lady!" Rîniel at last exclaimed, feeling comfortable to speak after the lords of the house had to leave to attend to a visiting guest. Lady Dureth raised an eyebrow haughtily, saying nothing for a moment as she seemed to look at her home through Rîniel's eyes.
"Perhaps I have a bit of an obsession with cleanliness," she acknowledged finally, her manner never breaking. "Why, do they not clean in Lothlorien?" And there it was, the scrutinizing look in Lady Dureth's eyes that Rîniel had seen time and time again.
Rîniel wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the thought, yet something told her she should perhaps not laugh at the icy lady beside her. "Well, no, my lady, but Lothlorien has a penchant for falling leaves. Your home is free of even the smallest leaf."
Lady Dureth only nodded and did not reply.
And so the stiff visit continued all the way through the meal, the lords of the house rejoining them with their guest, an ellon of no consequence, who seemed quite relaxed in the presence of the family. Daechir was the only merry one, and Rîniel began to believe that optimism was his constant companion. Lord Silevion opened up a friendly discussion on the scrolls of Maedhros and why he of the Feanorion kept the scrolls of Valinor. Everyone participated except for Lady Dureth, who presided silently over the table with perfect grace. Rîniel secretly wondered how long the lady had practiced such faultless servitude.
After the meal, and a thorough tour of the house and grounds on Lord Daechir's arm, Rîniel retired almost exhausted from the lord's constant chatter to the sunny room she had first entered. A few harps had been set up and ornate flutes sat quietly on a covered table, their yet to be heard musical tones seemed to greet Rîniel like old friends. Lord Daechir retired to a table where the quiet ellon waited him with a game of boar and spear, and Rîniel found a place on the sofa beside Lady Dureth. She nodded at Lord Silevion who had secluded himself in the corner with a pile of books, but she was quickly entranced by the lady's nimble fingers as she embroidered a mystical image of a bear on a pillow case.
She had not sat there for moments when Lady Dureth looked up at her for a moment, half-bemused. "It is not good to stare, my lady." Rîniel blushed and looked down. Lady Dureth pointed to a basket on the floor by the fireplace. "There. Feel free to use my threads and join me."
Rîniel quickly went to grab the basket, bringing it with her to the couch. Choosing a pale pink tea cloth to begin, she lifted a spool of thread out of the basket only let out a small gasp. In the bottom of the basket, tucked away under a dark blue silk, lay a glittering blade, its hilt enlaid with sapphires. A lady's dagger. Her blood went cold.
She felt Lady Dureth's hand clasp onto her arm tightly. "Hush," she whispered viciously, looking behind her. Rîniel followed her gaze to the window where Lord Daechir sat with his friend, both laughing at something one had said. Both ladies were silent for a moment, Rîniel's heart beating erratically.
At last Lady Dureth whipped to face her again, something unknown sparkling in her clear eyes. Was it malice? Fear? Excitement? "Do not say anything," she ordered, her form straightening till she sat prim and composed upon her sofa, her fingers stitching away as if nothing was the matter. Rîniel watched as the lady's sandaled foot reached out and kicked a piece of cloth over the weapon inside the basket.
Rîniel stared only for a moment longer, then followed the Lady Dureth's lead, pricking herself more times than usual as her hands trembled from unsettled feelings. Finally, she had enough. Courtly manners or no, Lady Dureth was going to explain herself. She bent her head nearer towards her companion, her eyes never leaving her cloth, so that any observer might think she was simply checking her stitches. "Why are you armed, my lady?" She asked breathlessly, making sure no one had moved within earshot.
Rîniel saw Lady Dureth's fingers slip only for a moment, before she corrected herself. "These are dark times in the Greenwood, Lady Rîniel. You can never be too careful. Perhaps such worries are easy to forget when offered the protection of the fortress and our king," Lady Dureth's calm tone turned icy for just a moment, than subsided.
Rîniel narrowed her eyes, peeved at the slight rebuke. "Forgive me, my lady, for causing such offense because of where my living quarters happen to be located. I would rebuke you for your disrespect of the king, but since he is not mine to swear loyalty to, I hold my tongue."
Lady Dureth's mouth curved slightly into a smile, though she said nothing. Rîniel shook her head slightly, completely confused by the lady's unsteady emotions as she pressed again. "But even here, inside your own house-"
"Enough, my lady," ordered the other elleth with a warning in her tone. Setting down her sticking, she stood up, speaking louder for the others to hear. "Lady Rîniel and I are going to take a turn about the room. Shall we?" She extended her arm to Rîniel, who took it reluctantly.
They said nothing for a moment, their long skirts rustling softly and their sandals barely making a noise on the glistening white tile. Rîniel watched as Lady Dureth made no move to speak until she was sure the other people in the room were out of earshot. Calmly examining a painting as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, Lady Dureth spoke again. "How much has my brother told you, Lady Rîniel?" Noticing Rîniel's confused expression, she sighed. "About me."
Rîniel blushed, considering how much the lady expected her to say. "Nothing of importance, my lady."
"Oh, stay your pretty tongue now and tell the truth," retorted Lady Dureth. "I know all too well the tone of concealment."
"He said you were unwell, my lady," she murmured hesitantly.
"Unwell," repeated the other elleth slowly, as if she was tasting the bitterness of the word. She laughed suddenly, loud and musical, but Rîniel thought she heard crazed pain inside it. Lord Daechir lifted his head quickly to stare at his sister, as did Lord Silevion. She continued for just a moment before remarking loudly as if for their benefit, "What an amusing story, my lady! Please, tell on." And the lords returned to their respective entertainment, leaving Rîniel in utter confusion.
This was not the cordial, stiff visit she had been expecting.
Lady Dureth kept walking, and they turned outside into the gardens. She sat down on a bench, not waiting for Rîniel to sit first nor did she suggest they sit. Rîniel tried to conceal her current state of irritability with the Lady Dureth's manner as she sat primly on the edge of the bench.
"Yes, I'm unwell," continued Lady Dureth, now that they were outside. "I've been told I am unwell for many years now, merely because of my brother's power-hungry fingers," she paused to ruthlessly snap a stick in half, causing Rîniel to jump at the sound. "Yes, that excuse for my behavior has propelled him to the elite noble circles and left me dangling in his wake, trapped inside an endless cycle of grabbing and pushing for more power. Why else do you think we, the House of Saeben, my father and my brother, asked you into our home, Lady Rîniel?" Demanded Lady Dureth, turned to stare at Rîniel. "Did you think it was just a way to know the Handmaiden of Lothlorien, or did you realize that I associating with you would immediately elevate me in the eyes of the higher ladies, even the queen herself?"
Rîniel was at a loss for words. Of course, she should have known. It was futile to attempt a social image...any that did not know her well enough viewed her as a political figure worth their time and hospitality. To say she had been expecting differently would paint her as innocent and naive to the mature Lady Dureth, so she slipped her political facadę quietly over the place of her gathering anger. "Nay, Lady Dureth, to say I was ignorant would be terribly shocking, would it not?"
The elleth laughed, her tone hollow. "You would be surprised, Lady Rîniel, how many ignorant highborn give no heed to the intrigues of court. Even my adar, an ellon with the wit and intelligence of a fox, pays no heed sometimes to intrigues surrounding him."
Rîniel said nothing.
"Oh my dear lady, no elleth coming to seek the hand of a prince in the halls of a foreign court can be considered truly ignorant," Lady Dureth said as she stared directly into Rîniel's eyes, as if prying the truth directly from her gaze. "One must have a constant state of wariness, poise, confidence and intelligence to win the heart of her true-"
Rîniel stared back. "How dare you!" She burst out saying, catching herself quickly and squelching her feeling of outrage. Valar help her, she would have need to take leave of the infuriating elleth before the time of departure drew near. "I have a secret feeling you intend to berate me, my lady," she said, standing and facing her opponent with new calmness. "Perhaps it is your way of treating your guests."
"Perhaps I mean to give that impression, my lady," tested Lady Dureth with no ire now present in her tone. "You need to see that your intentions of grabbing the nearest throne with our prince by your side are hardly concealed-"
Rîniel let out a soft groan of irritation before turning to face Lady Dureth entirely, her posture rigid and unmoving. "Prince Legolas is no lover of mine," she started, making sure each syllable was clear. "I do not love the prince, and I never shall. He is a dear friend, perhaps one of the dearest I have and yes, he pays me a good deal of attention. But so would any true lord of the Firstborn, for manners and grace count above all else as a way to win the respect of your circles. Lord Legolas has much to do before he finds his heart, as do I. Strangely Fated feär do not so soon cling to the nearest vine, my good lady. So I beg you, cease your torment of my emotions and leave me in peace to follow the path I must take!" She exclaimed, finally seeming to draw a breath.
Lady Dureth stared at her for a moment, her manner entirely changed from the bitter or encased lady she had been earlier. She met Rîniel's adamant gaze with a little wonder shining in her eyes. "Perhaps there is still hope," She whispered almost to herself, before blinking rapidly and looking away.
Even as Rîniel began to ask her the meaning of her statement, Lady Dureth stood, her face now shuttered and cold. "Understood, my lady," she curtsied, and turning, swept back into the sunlit evening room, leaving Rîniel to contemplate whether she had imagined the whole altercation.
•-•
Musical tones greeted Rîniel as she reentered the room moments later, after composing herself and smoothing her hair. Musicians had been hired to play for the family, and every person sat stiffly in a circle, listening to the lovely low tones of the flutes and the tinkling of the harps. She joined them silently, and as the music ended everyone clapped politely for the musicians.
"Lovely, just lovely!" Exclaimed Daechir, jumping to his feet in approval. His eyes danced with lighthearted mirth, and Rîniel heard Lady Dureth give a soft sigh. He turned to his sister, who Rîniel now observed was smiling at him just a little and offered his arm gallantly. "Care to dance, milady?"
"I would, but perhaps you should offer your arm to our guest before me?" Lady Dureth smilingly suggested, the epitome of perfect hostess. What cards this lady could play with her emotions...it almost frightened Rîniel, for she had no way of knowing which side of Lady Dureth was the real one. She herself could only attempt to match the elleth's composure.
"Ah!" This suggest seemed to suit Lord Daechir, for he offered his arm enthusiastically to Rîniel next. Seeing her hesitate, he laughed. "Don't be shy now, my dear lady, we all have observed your animated side."
"To be sure, that is what I'm afraid of," Rîniel bantered coyly after a moment of thought, moving him hastily once more to Lady Dureth. "Come, dance together, brother and sister! I shall play for you if you wish."
At the ready assent of both, she took up a flute and one of the musicians silently offered her a chair. Thanking him, she prepared to play only to be surprised by Lord Silevion taking a seat next to her on the harp. He must have noticed her wide eyes, because he only smiled sadly and answered her unspoken question. "My wife taught me to play, my lady. It is a small comfort every so often." She nodded silently, still ill at ease around him, but nevertheless understanding his sadness. They struck up a lively tune, the quiet ellon who still remained with the family smiling and clapping his hands in time with the music. All too soon the couple finished their dance, and Rîniel reluctantly gave up her instrument. Perhaps she should ask the king for a simple flute to be delivered to her apartments. It had been years since she had played, but no maiden under Galadriel's care grew up without a careful instruction in music.
After another hour of polite conversation with Lord Silevion and Lord Daechir, the time drew near for Rîniel to leave. She rose, more than relieved to have the visit ended, and curtsied gracefully to her hosts. "I have enjoyed my time, my lords. Please approach me when you will for more rousing conversation," she grumbled inwardly as she said this, wishing them to stay their advances and approach her only rarely. For surely, although Daechir was pleasant, she could not be sure about the other two members of the household.
"Lady Rîniel, you have impressed upon me your good nature. Never hesitate to allow the wind of fate to carry you to our doors," returned Lord Silevion courteously. The brother and sister gave their goodbyes as well, and with the final squeeze of Lady Dureth's hand, the elleth gave Rîniel a look of warning. Whatever Lady Dureth thought she had revealed to Rîniel, which was surprisingly little, she trusted Rîniel to keep silent about it.
"Goheno nin, Lady Rîniel, for leaving you so long with my sister's company," apologized Daechir as he walked Rîniel to the entrance of the fortress. His eyes showed true remorse, though Rîniel was shocked to hear him say the next few words. "Her illness has been a trial of late."
"Forgive me, then, Lord Daechir, for I'm finding no signs of illness within your sister," Rîniel rebuked with some surprise evident in her voice. "She stated that she was no more unwell than you or I. Neither did I have cause to believe otherwise."
Daechir smiled softly then, his face relaxing only a fraction. "Then she had a good day, my lady. That is well, for a good day has been long in coming. Trust my words, she is more unwell than you know. A sickness of the mind lays over her so deeply, it is best to keep her inside our home," he continued as Rîniel's mind flickered with doubt over the lady's words in the garden, "she so easily insists she is healthy and sane, but I fear even she knows the falsity of that statement."
"Are you warning me then, Lord Daechir?" Rîniel shifted a little, looking up into his face to await his answer.
"No, Lady Rîniel, for I trust you to respond how you see fit," Daechir bowed his head in respect, making Rîniel start a little at the first sign of her superiority of station that day. "You are kind, lovely in spirit, gentle in tone," she blushed furiously at his praise but he continued, not seeming to notice. "My sister needs such genteel presences such as yours. I'm not asking for your friendship on her behalf, but I'm asking for you to treat her as you would a dear member of the court," Lord Daechir's face was earnest when he said this, and Rîniel's trust in the words of Lady Dureth was firmly shaken. He seemed so loving towards his sister, courtly and passionate. Perhaps...well, she did not know what to think.
"I shall consider it," she said quietly, turning to leave.
"Thank you, noble one. 'Tis all I ask," came his humble reply.
•-•
It was nearing evening when Rîniel reentered the palace corridors, the main fortress halls being bevies of movement and chaos. Her guards rejoined her almost immediately as she set foot into the halls, but for once in her stay, she firmly banished them to the kitchens with a threat to tell the Queen "they were plaguing her to no end". Fear of the Queen and in turn, her husband, gave them enough cause to obey her immediately. She was left happily alone in the palace halls.
There was something she wished to see, though she had not told anyone yet of her desire. Constantly, Rîniel awoke early in the morning to trip enthusiastically to her balcony over the stable yard, where she noted numerous armed companies leaving or returning every morning. The entire affair had an air of secrecy about it, for the companies made almost no noise when they arrived or departed. There were more armed companies than she had ever seen leaving Lothlorien, which drew her to look for the armory and garrison halls of King Thranduil Oropherion.
She had not the faintest idea if she had leave to discover those place; neither was she thinking to ask, for Rîniel knew that if she was un-allowed into the area, she had at least two friends in very high places. To think that she, the Lady From Lothlorien, would be denied basic access to an area of the fortress was unthinkable.
Not knowing which way to turn, her basic intuition took her down hundreds of feet into the murkier chasms of the halls. Pale white light lit the golden of the stone on the winding pathways, and thousands of feet above her Rîniel could look and see the carved windows and pathways of the upper palace. Free waterfalls plunged down into the rushing Forest River below, sending up a cool mist as she continued farther down. The halls were so magnificently large that she shivered a little. Sometimes, she couldn't help wishing she was a little taller; her petite form flying down the stairs was almost lost to any guard's watching gaze.
She finally reached the end of the long stairs and was rewarded with her prize. She was accosted by the ringing of hammers and sweet smoke of the smithies, alerting her to the nearness of the armories. Ellyn and ellith alike moved purposefully all around her, clothed in grim faces and forest garments. Pulling her green cloak farther across her dove-colored dress, she hid it from sight. It would not do to stand out so prominently. She suddenly wished she had removed her circlet given to her by Galadriel long ago.
Rîniel ducked her head and moved towards the sounds of many voices and tools, feeling more surprise by the moment at the sheer amount of her kin clothed in the insignia of the king. And then she reached the open halls and gasped out loud, making several passing kinfolk look twice and raise their eyebrows at the small lady who had wandered into the hubbub.
Soaring up, up up were flying buttresses supporting the peaked ceilings of three open wings that met in the middle in one towering point. The stone was carved into firm lines and geometric ornaments, all upholding the image of the fortress's main strength, hidden deep within the halls of the elvenking. Two wings were angled to the left; one was the smithy, its long length dim and dark, lit only by the torches and fires of the furnaces. Tall, strong forms of ellyn moved amongst the flames, stoking the fires or carrying loads of metal. The other wing, as long as the first, contained long, shining rows of weaponry, the deadly like of which Rîniel had only seen in her memories of pain. She turned quickly away, not choosing to gaze any closer.
The other wing was twice the width of both across from it, and from here most of the voices came. Cries of exultation, pain, exhaustion, and effort, all floated into Rîniel's keen ears as she watched thousands of warriors at war in various training wings, circling and striking their opponents in a never-ending song of steel. The weapons rang, scraped, and hissed and thudded as the jeers of observers kept the beat. She quickly crossed the colorful stone of the cavern, for now she realized that was what it was. In the far end, farthest from her, a wide, roaring waterfall covered the opening to the halls. Even as Rîniel stared, a captain gave a command and gears rumbled into motion, moving hidden forces she could not see into the path of the water, stopping its flow long enough for a small company to tear through the falls and disappear into the forest on the other side.
She was breathless and overwhelmed with all she was seeing, never realizing for a minute before this that King Thranduil's strength was tucked away, closed from all foreign eyes, waiting to be unleashed like the winds that roared through the towering heights of the Greenwood. A smile lit our heroine's face, her eyes lighting up with what she had discovered. What's hidden underneath is almost always the most exciting.
It was only when the elleth smiled did Captain Bruidor recognize his former charge. He had watched the fair maiden closely ever since she had entered the halls, for his eyes were not so easily fooled by the green cloak she wrapped tightly around her form. There was only surprise and wonder in her blue-eyed gaze, though an innocent cunning he saw only on intelligent nobles he met with at times. Her smiled immediately told the captain who she was, and he grinned mischievously. Oh, this would be entertaining. Prince Legolas had only arrived in the fortress two nights before...and not left the training halls since. The captain wasn't even sure the king knew his son had returned...perhaps Captain Bruidor would have a seat to the prince being scolded like an elfling by a maiden a full head shorter than he. Truly, it was about time he had a little fun with the prince; a show like this would be just the sort to get revenge for the melon prank centuries ago.
He rocked on his heels gleefully as he left the training match of one of his own warriors. It was time to do what he did best; make some mischief.
•-•
Goheno nin: Forgive me (this is a review term)
Image 1: Lady's Dureth's Dark Blue Garment.
Image 2: A modernized representation of the theme of the House of Saeben.
Part two to Rîniel's adventure is coming soon!
Much Love, Susanna Chattaway