".......and so it was that evil spread from Mordor and invaded the many
lands and sights of Middle Earth. Many fell in it's face, and such things
that Middle Earth would never see in it's beauty and splendor again, was
slain and lost. It was the darkest times, the deepest of nights, as each
race and each culture paid its toll. Then, as hope dwindled and light
failed, came Uroth, son of Ungol, high ruler of elves, who was like no
other before him in mind and heart. Though none knew it then, he was
destined to bring together the two enemy races of men and elves under one
flag and declare his kind as protector and guide of his human brethren. It
was but the birth of Ithilien, home to Man and Eldar, equal to none and
master over many..."
The Book of Ages, Chapter VIII - History of Elves and Men Page 2032 "Of Ithilien"
********
"I will be DAMNED!" roared the voice in Irulan's head. "No! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" She swiftly closed her eyes as the world began to gently swoon and swim again. The dread was a solid and undeniable lump in her throat, refusing to go down. A very uncomfortable heat had exploded in her, burning her hands, her cheeks, her eyelids, forcing sweat to ooze out of her pores.
"Irulan, you have just scolded Boromir, First Captain of the armies of Ithilien," said a smooth voice and the amusement dripping from it was hard to miss.
Irulan swallowed hard, but the lump prevailed. "I did NOT!" she shot back mentally.
"Not to mention........"
"No!"
"Oh yes!"
"NO!"
"Bloody yes!"
"NO!" she screeched and made a few heads turn to throw an uneasy glance at this woman, who was standing dumbstruck in the middle of the street, looking like she was about to die. Irulan noticed none. "It can not be him," she whispered to herself, but it was only half-hearted, since her mind and her heart had both agreed on the fact that it had indeed be no other than Prince Legolas himself, sole ruler of the kingdom of Seven Districts, sire to lands of the Nine Tribes.
She had seen him only once, when she had been merely nine, at the festivities that heralded the coming of spring and served as a ceremony for the re-assertion of peace and splendor that the kingdom had been blessed with for such a long time under such precious reign. Her father had dragged her for hours around the square to find a better spot and finally, what seemed like years later to her, had hauled her up to his shoulders so that she would see the prince himself riding down the street. Irulan had marveled at the noise, at the crowd, at all the infinite colors in such abundance, at the feeling of pure joy and pride ringing in the air like lingering thunder clouds. And she had marveled at Prince Legolas, who, in all his ethereal beauty was the reason for all this.
Now, as the memory of that long forgotten day came back to her, she easily matched the high cheekbones, the long blonde hair, the lithe but strong form. She immediately opened her eyes, and with the instincts of a prey in the open, hastily scanned her surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary. She let out a shaky breath and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. It was then that an odd feeling overcame her.
Anyone who has accomplished tasks deemed unthinkable, would understand the waves of confidence and satisfaction that slowly took hold of Irulan's psyche. True, she had been shocked by the realization of what had just taken place. And yet....it was no reason not to enjoy the justice in the event. After all, Boromir -Captain Boromir, that is- had indeed rammed into her and then acted rather rude. If it had been a lady of higher circles, he would most certainly have been much more polite. Irulan pushed up her chin at the idea of that. Though Ithilien spoke of equality and justice between elves and men, it offered no such justice between men and women, and much less so between rich and poor. Yes, the elves in their wisdom and maturity treated all with the same respect and sincerity, but being so little in number, and so reserved in life-style, elves were not an every-day sight even in the heart of the city. They preferred the tranquil atmosphere of libraries and schools as men, in their astonishing number, filled the streets and continued to plague the kingdom with their characteristics, so well known since ancient times. Ithilien was splendid and rich and peaceful. And yet, underneath all that, and after all that political glamour was stripped away, it was but the same rotten culture of Man, that even the elves in their patience and wisdom, had failed to change.
Irulan looked around her. These streets held perhaps no crime, under the strict watch of the law that brought safety and order to it, and yet they held prejudice, contempt, jealousy and rivalry. She sighed. It was astonishing what man was capable of - a creature swaying between the havens of angels and beasts, in a sea where storms never ceased.
The satisfaction that had bloomed in her, now grew to full splendor. She, Irulan, daughter of a man of no importance and step daughter to a woman of even lesser importance, had stood proud and solid, facing the rulers of the kingdom, who also happened to be men (er..not to mention...quite handsome men). She had not whimpered and fainted, she had not given in to their overpowering dominance, she had not given up her fight and run away. Alright, so maybe that last part could be scratched out. "In any case," Irulan thought hastily, suppressing the image of herself delving into the crowd while Prince Legolas and Captain Boromir seemed distracted, "I have stood up to my rights to be treated as an equal. And it felt damn good to bash some overgrown egos!"
With a new boost, she looked up to the store across the street. She rolled up her sleeves and pushed up her chin. "If I can handle the Prince and the First Captain, I can sure as hell handle a bunch of wild women!" she grunted and stomped towards her destination.
At that, she was wrong beyond measure.
***
Irulan soon enough had forgotten about how women were pressed into passiveness, treated roughly and unfair while men were beasts with whips. As a matter of fact, she felt like a whip was exactly what the female gender deserved to get. At that moment another foot stomped on hers and Irulan shouted out with the pain. However, once again, in this insane crowd, there was no way to locate the woman responsible of it. She felt herself pushed forward and only willingly obliged, hoping that it would bring her closer to the counter that ran along the three walls of the large store, for then she would have a chance of reaching the dresses of her stepsisters, which, under these circumstances, seemed a greater challenge than the Pass of Caradhras.
For minutes Irulan fought and struggled fiercely in the sea of women that was an insult to her body, her ears, her eyes and her senses. She had known that this would be difficult, considering this to be the store of the finest tailor in the city, but this was beyond any of her imaginations. When her abdomen finally hit the counter, sending a sharp pain through her body, she felt like she had fought against the armies of Saruman with bare hands and gained victory. Irulan quickly scrambled up the counter - a task that was rather impossible for a woman in a gown, but not so for Irulan, who wore no gown but a simple dress and who did not mind to show a bit of leg at this point. She glided down to the other side and found herself between two store clerks, caught in a mad swirl of gowns and fabrics, swirling like dervishes in the futile attempt to satisfy their female customers.
That is when she caught sight of the owner of the store, and could not help herself from calling out to him, even though she knew that he would never hear her in this tumult. Not daring to look away, as the old and rather fat man fought his way over the counter towards the other corner of the room, she pushed aside one of the clerks and hastily walked up to him, all the time careful to stay out of the reach of the claws of women who were trying to grab anyone across the counter to get some attention and help.
"Harkey!" she yelled again, when she was close enough and by some miracle, the man actually responded to his name, turning around to look at Irulan. Under different circumstances Irulan would have laughed out loud at his current looks - his clothes torn in several places, his hair in unusual disarray, his face twisted with terror and exhaustion. But sharing said circumstances at the moment, the humor evaded her. Harkey only blinked in reply and Irulan, finally having reached him, almost shook him by the shoulders, thinking that he had lost his wits along with many other things.
"Harkey! I have come for the dresses!" she yelled over the tumult.
"I have one thing to say, Irulan," the man yelled back with madness in his beady eyes, "GET LOST!"
With that, he turned around and attempted to climb the ladder that reached up to the higher shelves - each of which was momentarily stuffed with garments and clothes.
Irulan this time DID grab him by the shoulders and roughly pulled him back. "Give me those damn dressed and I will," she screamed.
"There is NO way I can find them now! I will send them to your house later, I promise."
Irulan shook her head in rejection. "I HAVE to bring them back with me, Harkey. Now I hate to be a burden, and you know how annoying a burden I can be. So just hand them to me nicely!"
Under other circumstances, Harkey, who was a rather anxious buddy, would be a good boy and instantly proceed to do as said. However, the women seemed to have stolen the last remnants of his mind, for he roughly jerked his shoulder back and glared at her a moment too long before he continued: "At this point, Irulan, killing me would be a favor. So, once again, GET LOST!"
"Now you listen to me to old fat toad.." Irulan began, but she never finished the sentence when the realization of a sudden silence hit her. And by the looks of it, it hit Harkey too. Both remained stupefied for a moment, then followed the looks of the mass of frozen women, who had seemed a threat to all life in Middle Earth a moment ago, to the large doors of the store that stood open to give entrance of an unusual company.
Irulan and Harkey stood staring together and as realization hit them both, they both blanched at the same time, though each for very different reasons.
"This is a dream," thought Harkey as his eyes rested on the handsome form of the Prince who, no doubt due to Irulan's rather loud and unbecoming remark that had echoed in the silence of the store a moment ago, had diverted his attention to their direction and had found the two of them in the crowd, stood standing in his dark attire with the sunlight streaming in from behind him, like a god. The men who surrounded him were of similar outfit and altogether represented a contrast to the current company of a sea of gowns in every thinkable color. His heart was filled with such joy at the sight of the Prince in his store, that he found the strength and agility to effectively crawl over the counter and sprint to his guests, all the while unable to wipe an almost painful grin from his features.
"This is a dream," thought Irulan. "No, a NIGHTMARE is what it is!" And as the eyes of that damn prince locked with hers once more, she forgot to curtsy together with the rest of the women, who instantly fell to their knees and a moment later, as Irulan and Legolas were still staring at each other, stood up again like a tidal wave.
"An honor to have you here!" yelled Harkey and Legolas' gaze broke as he turned around to face this man who looked like he had escaped from the dungeons of Barad-Dur just moments ago. His eyes swiftly swept the man's form, as he felt the strong surge of pity for this fellow being.
"Sire! An honor indeed!" said a breathless Harkey, bowing clumsily and then looking up with childish enthusiasm.
"The honor is mine," replied Legolas in his elvish kindness and for the first time Irulan realized that he had the most incredible voice. At that realization she rolled her eyes and reminded herself of the annoying fact that the man had actually followed her here (judging from his slight discomfort and the fact that it was unlikely for him to come to such a place for other reasons) for who knows what frustrating reasons.
She deftly climbed over the counter and glided down, then remained standing, seeing that the only entrance and exit to the place was definitely blocked.
"How can a humble man such as me be of any assistance to the Prince?" said Harkey, wiping his hands on his torn shirt.
Legolas smiled a breath-taking smile. "As a matter of fact, I came here to assist another, myself." And as unbelievable as that was, with that, he turned to look at Irulan, who was shifting on her feet, biting her lower lip. As soon as she realized that she was cornered, she did what any other cat would do - she narrowed her eyes and pushed her chin up in defiance.
Legolas, though seemed unaffected by her silent threat and kept smiling at her in a way only elves could. A man to his right, that Irulan instantly recognized, for he was as infamous as the prince himself, being the closest friend and advisor of Legolas and known for his strange ways, stepped forward then. "Where?......"he started and then something that looked suspiciously like a grin spread over his lips as he gave a slight bow with his head, saying "Ah, yes. Aragorn at your service, my lady."
Irulan pursed her lips as the gaze of everyone else in the store seemed to follow the gesture, ending up on her and though she urgently fought it, a blush crept up to her cheeks.
"Lady? Which lady?" boomed Harkey suddenly and broke the trance.
Aragorn ignored him completely as his gaze wandered through the crowd and he softly urged the rest of the audience to please not feel intimidated by their presence and to continue with their tasks at hand. The female throng was probably planning to remain as they were and just simply watch the whole affair in silence, but with such a request -unwillingly- broke into soft conversation and movement, pretending that they were engaged in their own business. They returned to claiming their garments, only this time it was with such grace and order, that Irulan was momentarily distracted, watching them talking with utter politeness to the still bewildered clerks. "Perhaps we DO need men after all," she thought, baffled. She almost flinched when she heard Aragorn addressing her again.
"We had no chance of knowing whether our apology was accepted, Lady..." said Aragorn, very openly expecting her to fill in with the name, but Irulan had no intention of giving him what he wanted. Aragorn was the Chief Advisor of the Prince, the second most powerful person in the kingdom, true, but she hated the grin on his face nevertheless. She glared back at him as the tense silence stretched, until Aragorn finally gave up of acquiring a name and continued with his statement, his face betraying an even wider grin than before: "...so we took the freedom to follow you to make sure that you did not leave us with unfavorable feelings."
Irulan sighed with frustration. She told herself that the reason why she would give in finally was only the irritation with these men along with the fact that she was in a hurry, nothing else. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she had started to feel a little ashamed at her own rudeness in the face of such repeating attempts.
"It is me who should apologize," she said curtly, her eyes sweeping over the company and making sure that none took this as a sign of weakness or defeat, "I left in such a way for I was in a hurry to get here, nothing more. The incident was certainly not worth such anguish on your behalf. It was but a simple and mere accident with no dire outcome for neither party." She barely kept herself from smiling with satisfaction. "There!" she thought, "I can talk like them when I want to!"
Legolas took a step toward her then. "But your dress.."
"Nothing that can not be mended," finished Irulan, more than impatient to end this absurd conversation.
The prince opened his mouth again but it was Harkey's voice that ringed in the store: "Irulan? Ha ha ha! Sire, surely you must be mistaken. She is no lady!" he exclaimed, rumbling with the humor of such a thought.
Irulan threw him a poisonous look, but Harkey only saw the one the Prince gave him and it was enough to cut his laughter momentarily. An expression of utter confusion came over his features and he remained frozen with the inner struggle to grasp the situation.
"Though everyone seems to argue against it," Legolas said very slowly, his tone berating slight impatience and anger, "I see no other than a lady before me." Harkey gulped with the realization of facing not only the Prince, but also and elf, who were known for their dislike of such distinctions. The combination, of course, sent a slight tremble through him as he finally understood his mistake.
"Of course, Sire," he whispered, sweat breaking out on his brow as he gave a slight bow. Perhaps it was the wish to erase the unfavorable impression he might have given to the Prince that pushed the memory of Irulan's purpose in the store into his mind. In any case, a moment later, he beamed with pleasure and turned to Irulan, who stood baffled, watching the scene with squinted eyes. "Irulan!......Er, LADY Irulan....I shall get your dresses immediately." With that, he sprinted away and disappeared in the crowd that stood in silent conversation.
Irulan and Legolas stood looking at each other for another moment and finally she dared to take a step towards him, and then another and ended up at a quite close, and yet comfortable enough distance. Unlike common belief, it was not to step closer to the prince, but to the exit that stood right behind the man in hope of vanishing from the scene as fast as possible once the dresses arrived.
"I am glad to have met you, Lady Irulan," Legolas said gently then and Irulan felt a slight tinge of anger of her name being discovered so easily after all. Nevertheless, she suppressed it and managed to look up quickly to his unwavering gaze. Now that she was so close to him, he seemed even more beautiful, if such a thing was possible. And taller than she would suspect him to be.
"Likewise of course, Sire," she replied, unable to keep the intimidation from her voice.
Legolas stood looking down at this curious woman in front of him. Something about her seemed awfully familiar..and tempting..but no matter how many times he looked her up and down in an attempt to locate the reason for such a feeling, he was failing. He felt drawn to her, and yet there was absolutely no reason why he should be. By the looks of her appearance, she was a commoner, one with whom his mind would most probably never match and even though Legolas never even for an instant thought that to be a low or unfavorable thing, since such a distinction was foreign to him, he still was wise enough to read the obvious. Her fire and temper, along with her pride and obvious carelessness about titles was intriguing to say the least, but they did not by far make her someone capable of an intellectual or interesting conversation. "So what is it about her?" he thought before Aragorn's voice broke his train of thought.
"Lady Irulan, I see," he said, stressing the name and very clearly the amusement he felt concerning this entire happening, "where are you from?"
"Around here," replied Irulan a little nervous and a little angry at such inquisition.
"Meaning?"
"Middle Earth," shot back Irulan, against all her attempts to be kind. Aragorn, though seemed to find that not rude at all. And judging by his looks, along with the fact that he still chose to be a Ranger, even though his title would demand otherwise, he would find very few things rude, indeed.
"Sounds oddly familiar," he said, his green eyes never leaving hers.
Irulan fought to urge to roll her eyes and for once, succeeded.
"I take it you will be attending the ball," Legolas said then and if Irulan did not know better, she would say that he sounded hopeful.
"No," she said flatly and turned to search out Harkey, but he was nowhere to be seen. When she turned again to face the men she was surprised by the look of disbelief on their faces. "These men do not live in Ithilien, for sure!" she thought with a slight pleasure, "How else could they be so blind to the prejudice that has enslaved us all?"
"The dresses are not for me," she said, to break the silence.
"Everyone is invited. Why would you not attend?" Legolas said a moment later.
Irulan would have come up with another answer, but suddenly she felt as if she was granted the perfect chance to give her piece of mind concerning the matter. And only the Valar knew how much of an annoyance it had been to her for the longest time! "No offense, your highness, but I am not interested in such entertainment. To be perfectly honest, I find it a little...foolish," she finished, unable to come up with another adjective.
Legolas' eyebrows gently rose up to that. "None taken. Pray explain, Lady Irulan."
Harkey arrived at that very moment and Irulan absent-mindedly grasped the package from him, eager to conclude the whole thing as swiftly as possible. As it was, if she had turned around, excused herself and walked out then, the tale would have ended very differently. Irulan would have gone back to her home, Legolas would have returned to his own, and the incident would hold no further value for any of the ones involved. But Irulan, more than willing to leave, but equally as adamant to express her feelings about the way things were, decided to grant the prince with her honest opinion and thereby, change the outcome of the story.
"Because, Prince Legolas," she said and for once did not feel nervous to look into his blue gaze, "I think it is very wrong to judge people by such standards. You can most certainly not truly believe that you will find the person to share your life with by dancing your way through hundreds of women! Not to mention that it must be a rather cruel thing to do to yourself," Irulan finished with a softer murmur, glancing around at the mass of females around them, and remembering how wild they had been just moments ago. She gave herself another moment and then said "Good day!" and with that, walked around the company, catching a glance of Boromir on her way out and ignoring the rather unpleasant he shot at her, left the premises with dark satisfaction.
Legolas, Aragorn and Harkey remained rooted behind, standing very close, but each thinking in distinctively different terms.
Harkey gulped in disbelief while Aragorn scratched his chin, as he always did when he felt discomfort, murmuring about 'the damn, formidable and tricky mind of women' while Legolas, lost in his own world, felt some strange feeling slowly spreading in his chest, and almost momentarily said "That makes two of us," to himself, not realizing that his statement would be true in more than one fashion in times to come.
*****
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Why did I choose to make up the Kingdom of Ithilien? It was inevitable and very necessary, as you will see soon enough in the future, for many from other cultures and kingdoms will be joining the story soon and the arguments and differences between them will serve to settle my point concerning some problems that prevail even in our own world today.
Also, as you might have noticed, there is no certain timeline in this story. I have only borrowed enough from Tolkien to build a basis. The rest belongs to a tale that could have taken place anywhere and anytime.
The Book of Ages, Chapter VIII - History of Elves and Men Page 2032 "Of Ithilien"
********
"I will be DAMNED!" roared the voice in Irulan's head. "No! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" She swiftly closed her eyes as the world began to gently swoon and swim again. The dread was a solid and undeniable lump in her throat, refusing to go down. A very uncomfortable heat had exploded in her, burning her hands, her cheeks, her eyelids, forcing sweat to ooze out of her pores.
"Irulan, you have just scolded Boromir, First Captain of the armies of Ithilien," said a smooth voice and the amusement dripping from it was hard to miss.
Irulan swallowed hard, but the lump prevailed. "I did NOT!" she shot back mentally.
"Not to mention........"
"No!"
"Oh yes!"
"NO!"
"Bloody yes!"
"NO!" she screeched and made a few heads turn to throw an uneasy glance at this woman, who was standing dumbstruck in the middle of the street, looking like she was about to die. Irulan noticed none. "It can not be him," she whispered to herself, but it was only half-hearted, since her mind and her heart had both agreed on the fact that it had indeed be no other than Prince Legolas himself, sole ruler of the kingdom of Seven Districts, sire to lands of the Nine Tribes.
She had seen him only once, when she had been merely nine, at the festivities that heralded the coming of spring and served as a ceremony for the re-assertion of peace and splendor that the kingdom had been blessed with for such a long time under such precious reign. Her father had dragged her for hours around the square to find a better spot and finally, what seemed like years later to her, had hauled her up to his shoulders so that she would see the prince himself riding down the street. Irulan had marveled at the noise, at the crowd, at all the infinite colors in such abundance, at the feeling of pure joy and pride ringing in the air like lingering thunder clouds. And she had marveled at Prince Legolas, who, in all his ethereal beauty was the reason for all this.
Now, as the memory of that long forgotten day came back to her, she easily matched the high cheekbones, the long blonde hair, the lithe but strong form. She immediately opened her eyes, and with the instincts of a prey in the open, hastily scanned her surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary. She let out a shaky breath and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. It was then that an odd feeling overcame her.
Anyone who has accomplished tasks deemed unthinkable, would understand the waves of confidence and satisfaction that slowly took hold of Irulan's psyche. True, she had been shocked by the realization of what had just taken place. And yet....it was no reason not to enjoy the justice in the event. After all, Boromir -Captain Boromir, that is- had indeed rammed into her and then acted rather rude. If it had been a lady of higher circles, he would most certainly have been much more polite. Irulan pushed up her chin at the idea of that. Though Ithilien spoke of equality and justice between elves and men, it offered no such justice between men and women, and much less so between rich and poor. Yes, the elves in their wisdom and maturity treated all with the same respect and sincerity, but being so little in number, and so reserved in life-style, elves were not an every-day sight even in the heart of the city. They preferred the tranquil atmosphere of libraries and schools as men, in their astonishing number, filled the streets and continued to plague the kingdom with their characteristics, so well known since ancient times. Ithilien was splendid and rich and peaceful. And yet, underneath all that, and after all that political glamour was stripped away, it was but the same rotten culture of Man, that even the elves in their patience and wisdom, had failed to change.
Irulan looked around her. These streets held perhaps no crime, under the strict watch of the law that brought safety and order to it, and yet they held prejudice, contempt, jealousy and rivalry. She sighed. It was astonishing what man was capable of - a creature swaying between the havens of angels and beasts, in a sea where storms never ceased.
The satisfaction that had bloomed in her, now grew to full splendor. She, Irulan, daughter of a man of no importance and step daughter to a woman of even lesser importance, had stood proud and solid, facing the rulers of the kingdom, who also happened to be men (er..not to mention...quite handsome men). She had not whimpered and fainted, she had not given in to their overpowering dominance, she had not given up her fight and run away. Alright, so maybe that last part could be scratched out. "In any case," Irulan thought hastily, suppressing the image of herself delving into the crowd while Prince Legolas and Captain Boromir seemed distracted, "I have stood up to my rights to be treated as an equal. And it felt damn good to bash some overgrown egos!"
With a new boost, she looked up to the store across the street. She rolled up her sleeves and pushed up her chin. "If I can handle the Prince and the First Captain, I can sure as hell handle a bunch of wild women!" she grunted and stomped towards her destination.
At that, she was wrong beyond measure.
***
Irulan soon enough had forgotten about how women were pressed into passiveness, treated roughly and unfair while men were beasts with whips. As a matter of fact, she felt like a whip was exactly what the female gender deserved to get. At that moment another foot stomped on hers and Irulan shouted out with the pain. However, once again, in this insane crowd, there was no way to locate the woman responsible of it. She felt herself pushed forward and only willingly obliged, hoping that it would bring her closer to the counter that ran along the three walls of the large store, for then she would have a chance of reaching the dresses of her stepsisters, which, under these circumstances, seemed a greater challenge than the Pass of Caradhras.
For minutes Irulan fought and struggled fiercely in the sea of women that was an insult to her body, her ears, her eyes and her senses. She had known that this would be difficult, considering this to be the store of the finest tailor in the city, but this was beyond any of her imaginations. When her abdomen finally hit the counter, sending a sharp pain through her body, she felt like she had fought against the armies of Saruman with bare hands and gained victory. Irulan quickly scrambled up the counter - a task that was rather impossible for a woman in a gown, but not so for Irulan, who wore no gown but a simple dress and who did not mind to show a bit of leg at this point. She glided down to the other side and found herself between two store clerks, caught in a mad swirl of gowns and fabrics, swirling like dervishes in the futile attempt to satisfy their female customers.
That is when she caught sight of the owner of the store, and could not help herself from calling out to him, even though she knew that he would never hear her in this tumult. Not daring to look away, as the old and rather fat man fought his way over the counter towards the other corner of the room, she pushed aside one of the clerks and hastily walked up to him, all the time careful to stay out of the reach of the claws of women who were trying to grab anyone across the counter to get some attention and help.
"Harkey!" she yelled again, when she was close enough and by some miracle, the man actually responded to his name, turning around to look at Irulan. Under different circumstances Irulan would have laughed out loud at his current looks - his clothes torn in several places, his hair in unusual disarray, his face twisted with terror and exhaustion. But sharing said circumstances at the moment, the humor evaded her. Harkey only blinked in reply and Irulan, finally having reached him, almost shook him by the shoulders, thinking that he had lost his wits along with many other things.
"Harkey! I have come for the dresses!" she yelled over the tumult.
"I have one thing to say, Irulan," the man yelled back with madness in his beady eyes, "GET LOST!"
With that, he turned around and attempted to climb the ladder that reached up to the higher shelves - each of which was momentarily stuffed with garments and clothes.
Irulan this time DID grab him by the shoulders and roughly pulled him back. "Give me those damn dressed and I will," she screamed.
"There is NO way I can find them now! I will send them to your house later, I promise."
Irulan shook her head in rejection. "I HAVE to bring them back with me, Harkey. Now I hate to be a burden, and you know how annoying a burden I can be. So just hand them to me nicely!"
Under other circumstances, Harkey, who was a rather anxious buddy, would be a good boy and instantly proceed to do as said. However, the women seemed to have stolen the last remnants of his mind, for he roughly jerked his shoulder back and glared at her a moment too long before he continued: "At this point, Irulan, killing me would be a favor. So, once again, GET LOST!"
"Now you listen to me to old fat toad.." Irulan began, but she never finished the sentence when the realization of a sudden silence hit her. And by the looks of it, it hit Harkey too. Both remained stupefied for a moment, then followed the looks of the mass of frozen women, who had seemed a threat to all life in Middle Earth a moment ago, to the large doors of the store that stood open to give entrance of an unusual company.
Irulan and Harkey stood staring together and as realization hit them both, they both blanched at the same time, though each for very different reasons.
"This is a dream," thought Harkey as his eyes rested on the handsome form of the Prince who, no doubt due to Irulan's rather loud and unbecoming remark that had echoed in the silence of the store a moment ago, had diverted his attention to their direction and had found the two of them in the crowd, stood standing in his dark attire with the sunlight streaming in from behind him, like a god. The men who surrounded him were of similar outfit and altogether represented a contrast to the current company of a sea of gowns in every thinkable color. His heart was filled with such joy at the sight of the Prince in his store, that he found the strength and agility to effectively crawl over the counter and sprint to his guests, all the while unable to wipe an almost painful grin from his features.
"This is a dream," thought Irulan. "No, a NIGHTMARE is what it is!" And as the eyes of that damn prince locked with hers once more, she forgot to curtsy together with the rest of the women, who instantly fell to their knees and a moment later, as Irulan and Legolas were still staring at each other, stood up again like a tidal wave.
"An honor to have you here!" yelled Harkey and Legolas' gaze broke as he turned around to face this man who looked like he had escaped from the dungeons of Barad-Dur just moments ago. His eyes swiftly swept the man's form, as he felt the strong surge of pity for this fellow being.
"Sire! An honor indeed!" said a breathless Harkey, bowing clumsily and then looking up with childish enthusiasm.
"The honor is mine," replied Legolas in his elvish kindness and for the first time Irulan realized that he had the most incredible voice. At that realization she rolled her eyes and reminded herself of the annoying fact that the man had actually followed her here (judging from his slight discomfort and the fact that it was unlikely for him to come to such a place for other reasons) for who knows what frustrating reasons.
She deftly climbed over the counter and glided down, then remained standing, seeing that the only entrance and exit to the place was definitely blocked.
"How can a humble man such as me be of any assistance to the Prince?" said Harkey, wiping his hands on his torn shirt.
Legolas smiled a breath-taking smile. "As a matter of fact, I came here to assist another, myself." And as unbelievable as that was, with that, he turned to look at Irulan, who was shifting on her feet, biting her lower lip. As soon as she realized that she was cornered, she did what any other cat would do - she narrowed her eyes and pushed her chin up in defiance.
Legolas, though seemed unaffected by her silent threat and kept smiling at her in a way only elves could. A man to his right, that Irulan instantly recognized, for he was as infamous as the prince himself, being the closest friend and advisor of Legolas and known for his strange ways, stepped forward then. "Where?......"he started and then something that looked suspiciously like a grin spread over his lips as he gave a slight bow with his head, saying "Ah, yes. Aragorn at your service, my lady."
Irulan pursed her lips as the gaze of everyone else in the store seemed to follow the gesture, ending up on her and though she urgently fought it, a blush crept up to her cheeks.
"Lady? Which lady?" boomed Harkey suddenly and broke the trance.
Aragorn ignored him completely as his gaze wandered through the crowd and he softly urged the rest of the audience to please not feel intimidated by their presence and to continue with their tasks at hand. The female throng was probably planning to remain as they were and just simply watch the whole affair in silence, but with such a request -unwillingly- broke into soft conversation and movement, pretending that they were engaged in their own business. They returned to claiming their garments, only this time it was with such grace and order, that Irulan was momentarily distracted, watching them talking with utter politeness to the still bewildered clerks. "Perhaps we DO need men after all," she thought, baffled. She almost flinched when she heard Aragorn addressing her again.
"We had no chance of knowing whether our apology was accepted, Lady..." said Aragorn, very openly expecting her to fill in with the name, but Irulan had no intention of giving him what he wanted. Aragorn was the Chief Advisor of the Prince, the second most powerful person in the kingdom, true, but she hated the grin on his face nevertheless. She glared back at him as the tense silence stretched, until Aragorn finally gave up of acquiring a name and continued with his statement, his face betraying an even wider grin than before: "...so we took the freedom to follow you to make sure that you did not leave us with unfavorable feelings."
Irulan sighed with frustration. She told herself that the reason why she would give in finally was only the irritation with these men along with the fact that she was in a hurry, nothing else. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she had started to feel a little ashamed at her own rudeness in the face of such repeating attempts.
"It is me who should apologize," she said curtly, her eyes sweeping over the company and making sure that none took this as a sign of weakness or defeat, "I left in such a way for I was in a hurry to get here, nothing more. The incident was certainly not worth such anguish on your behalf. It was but a simple and mere accident with no dire outcome for neither party." She barely kept herself from smiling with satisfaction. "There!" she thought, "I can talk like them when I want to!"
Legolas took a step toward her then. "But your dress.."
"Nothing that can not be mended," finished Irulan, more than impatient to end this absurd conversation.
The prince opened his mouth again but it was Harkey's voice that ringed in the store: "Irulan? Ha ha ha! Sire, surely you must be mistaken. She is no lady!" he exclaimed, rumbling with the humor of such a thought.
Irulan threw him a poisonous look, but Harkey only saw the one the Prince gave him and it was enough to cut his laughter momentarily. An expression of utter confusion came over his features and he remained frozen with the inner struggle to grasp the situation.
"Though everyone seems to argue against it," Legolas said very slowly, his tone berating slight impatience and anger, "I see no other than a lady before me." Harkey gulped with the realization of facing not only the Prince, but also and elf, who were known for their dislike of such distinctions. The combination, of course, sent a slight tremble through him as he finally understood his mistake.
"Of course, Sire," he whispered, sweat breaking out on his brow as he gave a slight bow. Perhaps it was the wish to erase the unfavorable impression he might have given to the Prince that pushed the memory of Irulan's purpose in the store into his mind. In any case, a moment later, he beamed with pleasure and turned to Irulan, who stood baffled, watching the scene with squinted eyes. "Irulan!......Er, LADY Irulan....I shall get your dresses immediately." With that, he sprinted away and disappeared in the crowd that stood in silent conversation.
Irulan and Legolas stood looking at each other for another moment and finally she dared to take a step towards him, and then another and ended up at a quite close, and yet comfortable enough distance. Unlike common belief, it was not to step closer to the prince, but to the exit that stood right behind the man in hope of vanishing from the scene as fast as possible once the dresses arrived.
"I am glad to have met you, Lady Irulan," Legolas said gently then and Irulan felt a slight tinge of anger of her name being discovered so easily after all. Nevertheless, she suppressed it and managed to look up quickly to his unwavering gaze. Now that she was so close to him, he seemed even more beautiful, if such a thing was possible. And taller than she would suspect him to be.
"Likewise of course, Sire," she replied, unable to keep the intimidation from her voice.
Legolas stood looking down at this curious woman in front of him. Something about her seemed awfully familiar..and tempting..but no matter how many times he looked her up and down in an attempt to locate the reason for such a feeling, he was failing. He felt drawn to her, and yet there was absolutely no reason why he should be. By the looks of her appearance, she was a commoner, one with whom his mind would most probably never match and even though Legolas never even for an instant thought that to be a low or unfavorable thing, since such a distinction was foreign to him, he still was wise enough to read the obvious. Her fire and temper, along with her pride and obvious carelessness about titles was intriguing to say the least, but they did not by far make her someone capable of an intellectual or interesting conversation. "So what is it about her?" he thought before Aragorn's voice broke his train of thought.
"Lady Irulan, I see," he said, stressing the name and very clearly the amusement he felt concerning this entire happening, "where are you from?"
"Around here," replied Irulan a little nervous and a little angry at such inquisition.
"Meaning?"
"Middle Earth," shot back Irulan, against all her attempts to be kind. Aragorn, though seemed to find that not rude at all. And judging by his looks, along with the fact that he still chose to be a Ranger, even though his title would demand otherwise, he would find very few things rude, indeed.
"Sounds oddly familiar," he said, his green eyes never leaving hers.
Irulan fought to urge to roll her eyes and for once, succeeded.
"I take it you will be attending the ball," Legolas said then and if Irulan did not know better, she would say that he sounded hopeful.
"No," she said flatly and turned to search out Harkey, but he was nowhere to be seen. When she turned again to face the men she was surprised by the look of disbelief on their faces. "These men do not live in Ithilien, for sure!" she thought with a slight pleasure, "How else could they be so blind to the prejudice that has enslaved us all?"
"The dresses are not for me," she said, to break the silence.
"Everyone is invited. Why would you not attend?" Legolas said a moment later.
Irulan would have come up with another answer, but suddenly she felt as if she was granted the perfect chance to give her piece of mind concerning the matter. And only the Valar knew how much of an annoyance it had been to her for the longest time! "No offense, your highness, but I am not interested in such entertainment. To be perfectly honest, I find it a little...foolish," she finished, unable to come up with another adjective.
Legolas' eyebrows gently rose up to that. "None taken. Pray explain, Lady Irulan."
Harkey arrived at that very moment and Irulan absent-mindedly grasped the package from him, eager to conclude the whole thing as swiftly as possible. As it was, if she had turned around, excused herself and walked out then, the tale would have ended very differently. Irulan would have gone back to her home, Legolas would have returned to his own, and the incident would hold no further value for any of the ones involved. But Irulan, more than willing to leave, but equally as adamant to express her feelings about the way things were, decided to grant the prince with her honest opinion and thereby, change the outcome of the story.
"Because, Prince Legolas," she said and for once did not feel nervous to look into his blue gaze, "I think it is very wrong to judge people by such standards. You can most certainly not truly believe that you will find the person to share your life with by dancing your way through hundreds of women! Not to mention that it must be a rather cruel thing to do to yourself," Irulan finished with a softer murmur, glancing around at the mass of females around them, and remembering how wild they had been just moments ago. She gave herself another moment and then said "Good day!" and with that, walked around the company, catching a glance of Boromir on her way out and ignoring the rather unpleasant he shot at her, left the premises with dark satisfaction.
Legolas, Aragorn and Harkey remained rooted behind, standing very close, but each thinking in distinctively different terms.
Harkey gulped in disbelief while Aragorn scratched his chin, as he always did when he felt discomfort, murmuring about 'the damn, formidable and tricky mind of women' while Legolas, lost in his own world, felt some strange feeling slowly spreading in his chest, and almost momentarily said "That makes two of us," to himself, not realizing that his statement would be true in more than one fashion in times to come.
*****
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Why did I choose to make up the Kingdom of Ithilien? It was inevitable and very necessary, as you will see soon enough in the future, for many from other cultures and kingdoms will be joining the story soon and the arguments and differences between them will serve to settle my point concerning some problems that prevail even in our own world today.
Also, as you might have noticed, there is no certain timeline in this story. I have only borrowed enough from Tolkien to build a basis. The rest belongs to a tale that could have taken place anywhere and anytime.
