A/N: Doo doo doo doo doo doooooooooo!

FelSong: Sorry! Hopefully you'll like this better…

Alqualyne: Thanks! I thought everyone would feel that this was boring (I must confess that if I were reading it, I would think so) because everyone's read it already. But I'm glad you like it!

Meghan: Arigato! (I'm trying to say "thank you" in a few different languages!) Vidanric will be performing in The Nutcracker at the Crown Theater this weekend…just kidding!

Saranha de Angelo: Gracias!

Phaerie: Thank you for your enthusiasm! Wow, if everyone reviewed like that, I'd be writing out whole epics for you guys every day!

charmgirl: Yeah, there'll probably some additional, original scenes of my own, not only between Nee and Mel but maybe others too. And I'm not including all the exact scenes in the book, or maybe I'll show them in a shorter version.

Stargirl98: I think at the beginning Nee sort of matches them up, partly because Bran seems to feel that way. But once she learns about the hostile feelings Mel has, she changes her mind. At least, that's how I see it. But you'll have to ask Sherwood Smith herself for the real answer!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Sherwood Smith as usual. Again, I have to apologize for the small parts where the conversation is exactly the same as in the book, but I've tried to include as many parts of my own or continue them differently. For example, when Nee and Mel are talking in the coach, the part about the Hill Folk belongs to CD, but the talk about her childhood is something I included myself.

~ * ~ * ~

Back to Court

I began to teach Meliara the ways of the Court. It was more difficult than I thought it would be for there were many things I had known since childhood that I almost forgot to instruct, seeing as they were done almost subconsciously. But it was still fun for both Mel and I. After the first few lessons she started to enjoy it, and we became friends, both opening up more of ourselves. I liked her adventurous and lively spirit, and she seemed to take comfort in my soothing, quiet ways. It was also invigorating to have such honesty as was natural in Branaric and her.

After we first became relaxed with each other, she began to relate the story of her capture by Vidanric and her hard escape from Court. Although she narrated it simply without asking for sympathy, it seemed to me more terrible than anyone could tell. When I mentioned this she just joked about it, but I could see the sadness inside of her.

Unfortunately, we rarely visited my fiancé or the future king. But I truly enjoyed Mel's company, and I knew that I would have more time with him at Court, and certainly after our marriage. Meliara was a wonderful friend to have, and her vivacious talk and manner was entertaining. But I noticed that around Vidanric or even her brother, she remained subdued and was sometimes even silent.

~ * ~ * ~

One of my first real tasks to help my friend was to send my seamstress, Melise, for helpers to put together a suitable wardrobe for her. A week after we had arrived, the cloth and servants came in a wagon. Meliara seemed shocked at the amounts of the beautiful clothes. "Isn't this too much?" she asked doubtfully.

"Not when you count up what you'll need to make the right impression. Remember, you are acquiring overnight what ought to have been put together over years. Morning gowns, afternoon gowns, riding tunics and trousers, party dresses, and perhaps one ball gown, though that kind of thin you can order when we get to town, for those take and unconscionable amount of time if you don't have a team doing it."

Mel also needed a maid, and Ilvet suggested an aunt of hers, Mora. "Ilvet promises she is deft and discreet," I told Mel. "She was working for one of the northern families – low pay and too much work – but she stayed until her mistress married and adopted into a household even more husk scraping. Mora and the others suddenly found themselves each doing the work of three, while living in chambers that hadn't been altered for four hundred years – right down to the mold on the stones. If you like her, she will then hire your staff, whom you will never see."

"Strange, to consider having a staff I won't see," Meliara commented rather nervously. I suppose I had never thought about it. It was the norm to have the servants who didn't wait at you be almost invisible.

But the interview went well, and Mora was hired. She and my own team began to sew Mel her first gown. It was a cream-colored dinner gown – less complex than most at Court, but the simplicity added a nice touch, I thought. Discreetly I told Vidanric and Bran that Mel was making her debut that night, and they were ready when we came in. She entered gracefully, and as I went up to Bran, she rather reluctantly joined Vidanric. I felt bad about that, but what could I do? She couldn't very well walk up with her brother, and besides, I was engaged to him. And it would be even more improper for me to join Vidanric since I was already "occupied".

Bran complimented his sister's dress, and then the conversation turned. Eventually Danric began talking about the plans to dissolve the army while it was not in use, and he and Meliara seemed to be chatting amiable, Mel of course with her own ideas and views. 

That night, after talking with Meliara for some time, Branaric and I went out onto the moonlight balcony. "So, how d'you like it here so far, Nee?"

"It's nice," I said, "peaceful and relaxed. I'll be out of sorts when we go back to Athanarel and get caught back up in all the social events."

"Hmm…I don't know," he murmured, his arm wrapped around my waist. "At least Athanarel gives us more time together – alone."

"True," I whispered back, and smiled as he bent to kiss me. "Very true."

~ * ~ * ~

About a fortnight later, when spring arrived, Bran and Vidanric began to suggest that we return to Remalna-city. I knew that Vidanric hated to be away for so long even for a restful vacation. He was too dutiful, I thought, to his people and did not receive much in return. But I was ready to go back, and even Mel was willing to leave her beloved Tlanth.

We set off one sunny day, Mel and I in a coach while the men rode. "Regrets about leaving your home?" I questioned rather warily after we had been rumbling along for a few moments.

"No," she said, and I was comforted slightly.

"I hope we make it to Carad-on-Whitewater by nightfall – I really think you'll like the inn there."

"Why?"

"You'll see," I said mischievously.

"You can't tell me?" she pleaded. "I think I've already had a lifetime's worth of surprises."

I had to laugh at that, but rather ruefully, for it was true. "Dancing."

"Great. Strangers to practice on," she said, pleased.

I was rather confused at that. I suppose it was because I was much shyer than Meliara. "I confess I find your attitude difficult to comprehend. When I learned, it was a relief to practice with my cousins before I tired dancing with people I didn't know."

"Not me. Like I told you, if I have to tread on someone's toes, better some poor fellow I'll never see again – and who'll never see me – than someone who'll be afraid whenever he sees me coming. And as for practicing with Bran…"

"Well, he was just as outspoken about his own mistakes when he was learning. Frequently had a roomful of people in stitches," I replied, amused. "Not such a bad thing, in those early days."

"I find it impossible that anyone could regret Galdran's defeat. Besides his family, but even then, didn't they all hate each other?"

I didn't particularly want to talk about the Merindars, but I answered resignedly, "They are…a complicated family. But of course they must regret the loss of the perquisites from being related to royalty. All that is gone now. They have only the family holdings."

"And we have his private fortune." I tried not to look at her, but her voice did not sound as if she were proud or gloating. It seemed – careful. Not stiff, just careful, as if just stating a simple fact.

I needed to change the subject. "Do not feel that you have to speak of it, but it distressed me to realize that it is I who has been talking the most over the last days. Now I would very much like to listen."

She was astonished. "To what? I told you my history, and I don't know anything else."

I felt awkward at mentioning it, but my longtime "fear" had been bugging me. "You know what the Hill Folk are like," I rushed, not able to conceal my wonderment.

"Nobody really knows what they're like," she said with a chuckle, but it wasn't condescending. "But it's true I've seen them. We all have, we who live high enough in the mountains. We do as children, anyway. I still do because I like to go up to them. Most of the others have lost interest."

"What are they like?"

"Unlike us – hard to describe. Human in shape, of course, but taller, and though they don't move at all like us, I think them very graceful. They can also be very still. You can walk right by them and not notice their presence, unless they move."

"Strange," I said with a shiver, but luckily she didn't seem to see it. "I think that would frighten me."
"They don't frighten me," she said with a vehement wobble of her head, "but I think I could see how they might be frightening. I don't know. Anyway, they are all brown and green and don't really where clothes, but you wouldn't thin them naked any more than a tree is naked. They do have a kind of mossy lace they wear…and flowers and bud garlands – lots of those – and when they are done, they replant the buds and blossoms, which grow thrive."

"Are they mortal?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "though so long-lived they don't seem it – like trees. But they can be killed. I guess there's some grim stuff in our history, though I haven't found it. One thing, though, that's immediate is their sensitivity to herbs, particularly those brought here from other worlds. Like kinthus."

"Oh yes!" I said, relieved that I knew something in this conversation. "I remember Bran talking about kinthus-rooting. The berries surely can't hurt them, can they? I mean, we use them for painkillers!"

But she said, "We never use kinthus in the mountains. Listerblossom is good enough. As for the Hill Folk, I don't know if the berries hurt them. The danger is if there's a fire."

"I know burned kinthus is supposed to cause a dream state."

"Maybe in us. The Hill Folk also drop into sleep, only don't wake up. Anyway every generation or so there's a great fire somewhere, and so we make certain there's no kinthus that can burn and carry its smoke up-mountain."

"A fair enough bargain. Tell me about their faces."

"Their faces are hard to remember, like exact pattern bark on a tree. But their eyes are, well, like looking into the eyes of the animals we live among, the ones who make milk. Have you ever noticed that the eyes of the ones we eat – fowl and fish – don't look at yours; they don't seem to see us? But a milk animal will see you, just as you see it, though you can't meet minds. The Hill Folk's eyes are like that, brown and aware. I cannot tell you what I see there, except if I look one in the face, I always want to have a clean heart."

I sighed. "Very strange. Yet I think you are very lucky." I wasn't sure why, but I was almost envious of the connection that she seemed to have with them, even though she denied it. After all, they had helped our troops against Galdran, and everyone thought that it was obvious they had done it for her.

"Sometimes." Then she was quiet for a moment.

"Meliara – " I said carefully. "You don't have to talk about it if it hurts, but could you tell me anything about your childhood, and Bran's? All that he has said was that you ran around in the hills with the Hill Folk while he studied how to rule the county."

"What else is there to say?" she said with a laugh. "For once, Bran's lack of detail is justified. My days were spent playing games with the peasant children. We would try to spot the Hill Folk often, but we didn't really play with them. And Bran, I guess, learned to read and write and control the village without being dictatorial. And that, I swear is all."

"What about your parents?"

She paused again. "I suppose I didn't really know my father all that well. I mean, I knew him – his looks, his manners, his habits, his likes and dislikes – but we were never close. Just before he died, he apologized and said that – " her voice quivered a little bit " – I was like Mother, and he shouldn't have neglected me. I still don't know why he did, but I never minded. It didn't feel much like neglect until after he was gone."

I didn't want to cause her pain, so I said softly, "You don't have to tell me any more if you don't want to, Mel."

"No, it's fine," she said, and her voice was stronger and more eager than I would have expected. "Thinking and talking about my mother's life doesn't hurt. Only her death."

"Then tell me only about her life," I told her firmly.

"She was…lovely. Not just her looks, but her personality too. She was always patient with me. She was rather quiet, I suppose, but she had a very humorous side. Bran got that part and her dark blue eyes from her. I got her hair and her exact memory," she said with a smile. "Oh, she had her faults too. The memory was a curse and a blessing. It also meant she could hold grudges, just like me."

"At least you can admit it frankly," I said admiringly. "Not many can do that."

"I haven't much practice in lying," she replied rather ruefully. Then she peered at me carefully. "But you know, Nee, she is actually very much like you. She sort of looked like you, except her hair was lighter and her eyes were sapphire. She wasn't as open and loud as I am, and you're quiet like that. And you're so sweet like her."

I blushed gratefully, but opened my mouth to deny it. She seemed to anticipate my reaction, and her up her hand. "Don't say that you aren't, because you didn't know her, and I did – you are. So let me stop embarrassing you. Can you help me practice my fan work?"

"Of course," I agreed, and we stopped talking.

~ * ~ * ~

Mel and I had some rounds of hearty dancing that night with others in the inn, but the men didn't join us. The next morning, during breakfast, Bran offered to ride in the cabin with me. "I'll ride then. I don't mind rain – " Meliara said, and Danric agreed. They both set off on two mares as Bran and I climbed, hand in hand, into the coach.

After a few moments of – er – romantic actions, Bran and I settled into talk. After all, our relationship was so far from being mainly lust. We began to make plans for the wedding and chatted idly about how it would be like to get back to Athanarel. I must say that I rather missed it. But Tlanth was a lovely place, and I was happy that it would soon be my own home.

And so the journey went on, almost the same as the one to Tlanth – except the direction, of course. In a few days, we had reached Remalna-city. There was much pomp and celebration as we rolled in, with people shouting "Astiar!" and wearing the colors of my two friends' home. But even though I was not being specially welcomed, I was glad to return.

~ * ~ * ~

A/N: Okay, this one was a little bit shorter, but I think it suits the purpose. Anyway…I just wanted to say that most of the time, I won't be dissecting the book page by page and writing it from Nee's point of view, just the important events. Toodle-loo!