2.  A Bargain

"There will be no wedding."

I blinked at him. "What?"

Lienin sniffed. Her elegant face tilted in a way that gave the distince impression that she was, indeed, looking down her nose at me. "It has come to our attention that your family is...less than we thought it was. Please accept our most...sincere apologies when we say that the betrothal has been called off."

I stared. I'm sure I looked like quite a fool, with my eyes wide and unblinking. Feeling the beginnings of desperate tears in my eyes, I fought the emotions down and asked, as cooly as possible, "why? Why am I less than what you thought?" Somehow I knew that she'd been referring to me in particular, not just my whole family. "My father..."

"Your father was a good man," Garlamin assured me. "He was one of my best friends. But since his death, it seems that your family has..."

"Declined," Lienin supplied for him. "It seems that your mother spent all of her time alone in your house grieving. Hardly proper for one who should be continuing her work in the Houses of Healing. And you! You went to work in the palace kitchens. The kitchens! Have you no pride?"

"We... we needed the money," I said shakily. I was still having a hard time comprehending that she had decided to back out on the betrothal. Didn't she understand how important this was?"

"And lessons in archery and swordplay? How do you justify that?" Lienin looked as if she didn't expect me to justify it at all, but Garlamin and Gormin looked interested.

I shrugged hesitantly. "My father always wanted a son. But when there was no son, he often mentioned giving me lessons in weaponry. He said it jokingly, but I think there was a grain of truth in his jests."

"Indeed. Well, Lady Astal, I was sure you would understand. I thank you for your time." Lienin stood and swept out of the room, her luxurious satin gowns rustling as she walked.

I was more than a little surprised by the abrupt end to the conversation, and I am sure that I gaped a little at Lord Garlamin and Gormin.

"What my wife means," Garlamin explained in a slightly embarassed tone, "is that we are concerned about the matter of the dowry."

It was as if something had just clicked into place in my mind. Of course that was it. I should have realized that that would be what Lienin would be concerned about.

"What was the agreed dowry?" I asked slowly, reluctantly. The truth was, my savings were very little, because the work I did now did not pay terribly well. After all, it was not a job meant for peopleof the upper classes.

"A sum of one thousand in gold Gondorian coin," Garalmin said, "and your father agreed to design a summer home for us in Ithilien. Surely you know what a respected architect the man was. When he died we were going to trade that part of the deal for some of that prime property you own in Ithilien."

I nodded numbly. One thousand in all gold pieces? My mother and I could have lived comfortably off such a sum for over three years.

Shivering at the thought of my next words, I forced the dread down and stood, saying, "Lord Garlamin, my father made a promise to you. I swear that I will fulfill it in any way possible. The land in Ithilien, you say? That is still ours, but it is fairly small plot, if I remember correctly."

He shrugged. "Land of any kind in Ithilien can be hard to come by, and yours is in a prime location. I would accept the land, along with eight hundred in gold, as a suitable dowry."

I swallowed before nodding. "Eight hundred gold and the land in Ithilien... in return for the marriage?" At his nod, I swallowed again. "Right. I will see to it that I get you those eight hundred gold coins somehow. Good day to you, Lord Garlamin, Master Gormin." Curtsying slightly, I turned to leave. However, as my foot was on the threshold, Garlamin called me back for a moment. I turned to look at him curiously.

"Yes?"

"Lady Astal, if I'm not mistaken, you and Gormin here are not the best of friends." I glanced at Gormin and saw that he was eyeing his boots and pointedly ignoring me. I shrugged a little.

"We don't speak much, my Lord," I said evasively.

Garlamin raised an eyebrow. "If that's how you want to phrase it," he said doubtfully. "But I was wondering... how are you going to get the money? And why are you so eager to fulfill the agreement? You must remember that if my wife suspects you are being less than proper, she will pull Gormin out of this marriage before you can say 'Elessar.'"

"It was in my father's will, sir," I said firmly. "And I don't know how I plan to get the eight hundred gold pieces, but I'll do it somehow." Smiling wryly, I added, "but I can assure you that it will most likely not be from work in the kitchens. Good day to you both." Curtseying again, I turned and left.

Outside in the street, my carefully held calm exterior shattered. When I was but a half block from Garlamin's home, I was already trembling in anger. His family intended to break a deal with my family! True, we didn't seem to be the most well-off of the noble families in Minas Tirith, not now, but surelly they could have placed a little faith into her family, given them a chance to find the necessary money before simply pulling out!

As I continued on foot through the city, my thoughts turned to other worrying things. Where would I find the money? Rolling my eyes to the heavens, I sent a prayer to my father.

~I hope you're proud of me.~

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

Less than a week later I found myself visiting my family's summer home in Ithilien. I was a little sad about giving it up; after all, it had been in the family for generations.

The little house was situated on a squarish plot that was an acre, maybe two. A small plot, considering that most of our neighbors had several acres. The little cottage had been there for years. I hadn't been to the tiny summer home in years, since before my father died. I put the little key into the lock and forced the lock open. The mechanism was rusty after so many years, but I pushed the door open and stepped into the cottage. Little clouds of dust followed my feet across the wooden floor. Sunlight streamed in through a window high on the west wall, and the tiny dust particles in the air were illuminated by the sunlight as they danced around the room.

Smiling, I looked around me and reveled in the memories which I had thought to be long forgotten. The cottage was only four rooms, reminiscent of earlier days when my family had barely enough money to be considered part of the Gondorian "nobility." Smiling wryly to myself, I thought that we seemed to have made a full circle back to those earlier times.

The front room was quite large. The friendly sitting area could have held about eight people comfortably and I smiled as I remembered days spent here with my parents, talking and laughing. The tiny kitchen was barely large enough for the cooking supplies and the small table it held. The other two rooms were bedrooms, small but comfortable. But my favorite part of the cottage was the tiny loft above the front sitting room. The loft held a small bed and a bookshelf, which was filled with toys and books from my childhood days. I shook my head at the thought of selling this plot of land, especially for a marriage I did not want. But my father had made a promise, and it was his reputation and wishes that I was determined to honor.

Walking into the bedroom that my parents had used all those years ago, I spotted a large wooden chest that lay under the large quilted bed. I couldn't recall seeing it before. My curiosity piqued, I moved to open it.

Dust billowed from the chest as I tugged the lid open. Searching through the papers and knick knacks that filled the chest, I was at first disappointed when I found nothing of interest. Just as I was about to shut the lid I spotted a large leather folder. The shiny embossed gold letters on the cover and the gleaming black leather showed that it was quite obviously new, unlike the other things in the trunk. However, it was what the embossed letters said that made me wonder.

Shining in the afternoon sunlight, the letters on that black folder spelled "Astal."

Curious, I pulled the folder from the trunk and took it into the sitting room to read its contents.