Protector of the Small
They Danced Anyway
Machiavella of Kingsport
machiavella_nobles@hotmail.com (email me!!)
Chapter 3: Having a Ball
Shortly after deciding that Joren's interest in Cleon's love life was completely harmless, Keladry left a note to Raoul telling him she would be out for the next couple of hours. She took a look at the sky-the sun was a small copper crown in the west, banked by fuschia and blue clouds. Lalasa's dress shop in Corus would still be open, and even if it wasn't, Lalasa would still be there. Since she used to be Kel's maid and good friend, Kel could still go in there after hours for mending and small favors. But for this she wanted to make sure Lalasa wouldn't be closing up for the night. She grabbed a cloak from her bed and locked her door, and headed to the palace gates.
When she reached the shop, only a few customers hung around and inspected Lalasa's work. Lalasa herself sat on a stool behind a counter, stitching a pair of gloves to match one of her window dresses. She looked up as Keladry approached.
"Oh, Keladry! It's so nice to see you!" She stood up, and crossed in front of the counter to hug her former mistress.
"It's nice to see you too. I would have come down here sooner, because I was on vacation, but Raoul had me jousting against nearly every squire in the palace."
"That's fine," Lalasa assured her. "Oh, and look at the state of your hose! Threads hanging down everywhere..." Kel rolled her eyes jokingly.
"Please, don't fuss over me. There are people all around. I don't need them feeling put down because I'm getting special treatment."
Lalasa smiled sheepishly. "Well, you are my friend. I'm sorry. Is there anything you need? Mending?"
Kel smiled. "Well, clothing related, I guess-there's a midwinter squire's ball the night before the celebrations start, and I'm going to need a dress. I can't go about in squire attire-one of the noble girls might think I'm a boy and try to dance with me," Kel joked.
"Oh, that would be no problem, making you a dress. Even though my business has sped up in the past few weeks, there's always time for your things."
"So how much should I pay?"
Lalasa looked insulted, slightly. "Free of charge-you know I never make you pay!"
"Sorry. I'll tip you, in any case, if that's possible."
Lalasa blushed. "Whatever Keladry wants, Keladry gets..." she murmured to herself. With that, as the last of the customers dwindled, Lalasa took her former mistress to the back room of her shop for measurements. "So, what colors are you favoring right now?" she inquired.
"Well, I'm rather fond of green and blue. And rust, as well. Could you put all of those in one dress?"
"Of course," Lalasa replied as she wrote down the measurements for Kel's waist. "Arms up."
~*~
"Come back to pick up your dress in four days," Lalasa reminded Kel as she stepped out the door, handing her one copper crown.
"Probably back sooner," Kel called back, grinning. "There's more to my friend than just dress-making."
Lalasa dismissed the comment shyly with a wave of her hand. "Good luck jousting."
"Thank you." Kel wandered down the cobblestone street, lightly dusted with snow. Again, Joren creeped back into her thoughts. What if he decided to confront Cleon about his crush on her? If he did more than just confront? But she shook her head. Even if Joren was looking to make everyone's lives miserable, Kel believed Cleon could fend for himself both mentally and physically. And she didn't really think Joren would stoop to that level, nasty and cruel though he was.
With a shiver, she wrapped her black cloak around her more tightly. A few winter flakes drifted down her collar. A tall, lean figure, blurry in the snowy background and dusky sky, walked her direction in a slow, meandering gait. She glanced curiously at the man a few times, but dismissed him as just another commoner. But as they came closer, she noticed the brown tunic and yellow shirt-the colors of Nond. The man was Joren. Before he could recognize her, she quickly moved to the other side of the gradually widening street. But he did the same. She stopped in her tracks, for he was now in front of her, glaring coldly down at her.
"Pardon me," she said smoothly, sidestepping him and moving past. He whipped around, grabbing a fistful of her cloak.
"Kel."
"What do you want, Joren?" she sighed tiredly. "You've beaten me once today, is that not enough for you?"
"Does Cleon...have a crush on you?"
She turned and stared coolly at him, caught by surprise. "Why is it any of your business? And furthermore, why should you care?"
"Well, I would find it amusing-two clods, one in love with the other. Could become the gossip of the palace."
"He is not a clod. He's just tall."
"Defending your caveman, eh? So I see, you have a little...thing for each other?"
"Again, why should you care? You're not much of a gossip-you're low, but not that low," she spat angrily. "And besides, I do not have my eye on any man at this point in my life!" Her Yamani mask dropped, and her eyebrows furrowed. She wrenched her cloak out of his hand and stalked off past him.
~*~
Joren laughed derisively, but then stared a while after her as she approached the palace, his gaze softening. The girl wasn't delicate, she had proved that. But one thing that always stood out to him was her inability to accept her attraction to the opposite sex.
He had, of course, tried to put it through her head some years ago, upon a stone wall just by Balor's Needle. He had realized his own inability to teach her the ways of life. But as a squire, he supposed she could do. He just wasn't quite ready to accept that himself. He sighed, and continued on his way down to the pre-midwinter parties that would be raging at the Dancing Dove, still wondering if Cleon's sudden attraction to Kel was mutual. And he, by Mithros, would never admit even to himself he hoped she didn't like Cleon back. He swaggered down the street, shoving his hands in his pockets, and let the thoughts play about in his head for a while.
~*~
When Kel bustled into her room in a hurry to get to sleep, she heard a voice from Raoul's quarters.
"Kel? Is that you?"
"Yes, Raoul, it's me," she called back, untying her cloak and throwing it over the back of her chair.
"What's the hurry? You're making a lot of noise, and I'm trying to work."
"I'm sorry, I'm just...cold," she lied, closing and locking the door that connected her room to Raoul's. She hurriedly stripped to her loincloth and breast band and pulled a cotton nightgown on over her head. The fire already prepared for her crackled and popped, sending out warm waves of air throughout the small room. She pulled back the covers and hurriedly slid into her bed, snuffing out her candle. She was dozing within minutes, and then a dream came to her...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ! This is the end of the chapter, but mind you, not the end of the story! I will be away for the next couple of weeks at Camp Nokomis, which means no computer, which means also no internet! I promise I will post the next chapter as soon as possible! *And don't forget to review this one, as always. We all like reviews, don't we.* ^-^
P.S. In the meantime...if any of you are also Buffy fans, or if you also like short story originals, I have a few that need reading. One is under my other pen name 'SyDra', and it's called 'Heaven Dreams'. That one is fluffy poetry for Buffy/Angel and Spike/Buffy. The other one, an original short story, is under this pen name, Machiavella of Kingsport. It's called 'Sacrificial', and it's about a really morbid dream I had...hee hee. If you want to, you can R&R. Thanx!
They Danced Anyway
Machiavella of Kingsport
machiavella_nobles@hotmail.com (email me!!)
Chapter 3: Having a Ball
Shortly after deciding that Joren's interest in Cleon's love life was completely harmless, Keladry left a note to Raoul telling him she would be out for the next couple of hours. She took a look at the sky-the sun was a small copper crown in the west, banked by fuschia and blue clouds. Lalasa's dress shop in Corus would still be open, and even if it wasn't, Lalasa would still be there. Since she used to be Kel's maid and good friend, Kel could still go in there after hours for mending and small favors. But for this she wanted to make sure Lalasa wouldn't be closing up for the night. She grabbed a cloak from her bed and locked her door, and headed to the palace gates.
When she reached the shop, only a few customers hung around and inspected Lalasa's work. Lalasa herself sat on a stool behind a counter, stitching a pair of gloves to match one of her window dresses. She looked up as Keladry approached.
"Oh, Keladry! It's so nice to see you!" She stood up, and crossed in front of the counter to hug her former mistress.
"It's nice to see you too. I would have come down here sooner, because I was on vacation, but Raoul had me jousting against nearly every squire in the palace."
"That's fine," Lalasa assured her. "Oh, and look at the state of your hose! Threads hanging down everywhere..." Kel rolled her eyes jokingly.
"Please, don't fuss over me. There are people all around. I don't need them feeling put down because I'm getting special treatment."
Lalasa smiled sheepishly. "Well, you are my friend. I'm sorry. Is there anything you need? Mending?"
Kel smiled. "Well, clothing related, I guess-there's a midwinter squire's ball the night before the celebrations start, and I'm going to need a dress. I can't go about in squire attire-one of the noble girls might think I'm a boy and try to dance with me," Kel joked.
"Oh, that would be no problem, making you a dress. Even though my business has sped up in the past few weeks, there's always time for your things."
"So how much should I pay?"
Lalasa looked insulted, slightly. "Free of charge-you know I never make you pay!"
"Sorry. I'll tip you, in any case, if that's possible."
Lalasa blushed. "Whatever Keladry wants, Keladry gets..." she murmured to herself. With that, as the last of the customers dwindled, Lalasa took her former mistress to the back room of her shop for measurements. "So, what colors are you favoring right now?" she inquired.
"Well, I'm rather fond of green and blue. And rust, as well. Could you put all of those in one dress?"
"Of course," Lalasa replied as she wrote down the measurements for Kel's waist. "Arms up."
~*~
"Come back to pick up your dress in four days," Lalasa reminded Kel as she stepped out the door, handing her one copper crown.
"Probably back sooner," Kel called back, grinning. "There's more to my friend than just dress-making."
Lalasa dismissed the comment shyly with a wave of her hand. "Good luck jousting."
"Thank you." Kel wandered down the cobblestone street, lightly dusted with snow. Again, Joren creeped back into her thoughts. What if he decided to confront Cleon about his crush on her? If he did more than just confront? But she shook her head. Even if Joren was looking to make everyone's lives miserable, Kel believed Cleon could fend for himself both mentally and physically. And she didn't really think Joren would stoop to that level, nasty and cruel though he was.
With a shiver, she wrapped her black cloak around her more tightly. A few winter flakes drifted down her collar. A tall, lean figure, blurry in the snowy background and dusky sky, walked her direction in a slow, meandering gait. She glanced curiously at the man a few times, but dismissed him as just another commoner. But as they came closer, she noticed the brown tunic and yellow shirt-the colors of Nond. The man was Joren. Before he could recognize her, she quickly moved to the other side of the gradually widening street. But he did the same. She stopped in her tracks, for he was now in front of her, glaring coldly down at her.
"Pardon me," she said smoothly, sidestepping him and moving past. He whipped around, grabbing a fistful of her cloak.
"Kel."
"What do you want, Joren?" she sighed tiredly. "You've beaten me once today, is that not enough for you?"
"Does Cleon...have a crush on you?"
She turned and stared coolly at him, caught by surprise. "Why is it any of your business? And furthermore, why should you care?"
"Well, I would find it amusing-two clods, one in love with the other. Could become the gossip of the palace."
"He is not a clod. He's just tall."
"Defending your caveman, eh? So I see, you have a little...thing for each other?"
"Again, why should you care? You're not much of a gossip-you're low, but not that low," she spat angrily. "And besides, I do not have my eye on any man at this point in my life!" Her Yamani mask dropped, and her eyebrows furrowed. She wrenched her cloak out of his hand and stalked off past him.
~*~
Joren laughed derisively, but then stared a while after her as she approached the palace, his gaze softening. The girl wasn't delicate, she had proved that. But one thing that always stood out to him was her inability to accept her attraction to the opposite sex.
He had, of course, tried to put it through her head some years ago, upon a stone wall just by Balor's Needle. He had realized his own inability to teach her the ways of life. But as a squire, he supposed she could do. He just wasn't quite ready to accept that himself. He sighed, and continued on his way down to the pre-midwinter parties that would be raging at the Dancing Dove, still wondering if Cleon's sudden attraction to Kel was mutual. And he, by Mithros, would never admit even to himself he hoped she didn't like Cleon back. He swaggered down the street, shoving his hands in his pockets, and let the thoughts play about in his head for a while.
~*~
When Kel bustled into her room in a hurry to get to sleep, she heard a voice from Raoul's quarters.
"Kel? Is that you?"
"Yes, Raoul, it's me," she called back, untying her cloak and throwing it over the back of her chair.
"What's the hurry? You're making a lot of noise, and I'm trying to work."
"I'm sorry, I'm just...cold," she lied, closing and locking the door that connected her room to Raoul's. She hurriedly stripped to her loincloth and breast band and pulled a cotton nightgown on over her head. The fire already prepared for her crackled and popped, sending out warm waves of air throughout the small room. She pulled back the covers and hurriedly slid into her bed, snuffing out her candle. She was dozing within minutes, and then a dream came to her...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ! This is the end of the chapter, but mind you, not the end of the story! I will be away for the next couple of weeks at Camp Nokomis, which means no computer, which means also no internet! I promise I will post the next chapter as soon as possible! *And don't forget to review this one, as always. We all like reviews, don't we.* ^-^
P.S. In the meantime...if any of you are also Buffy fans, or if you also like short story originals, I have a few that need reading. One is under my other pen name 'SyDra', and it's called 'Heaven Dreams'. That one is fluffy poetry for Buffy/Angel and Spike/Buffy. The other one, an original short story, is under this pen name, Machiavella of Kingsport. It's called 'Sacrificial', and it's about a really morbid dream I had...hee hee. If you want to, you can R&R. Thanx!