Chapter 3
The snow was falling thicker and thicker on the ground, whitening Minas Tirith more than it already is. Children started bursting out of their doors, laughing and prancing about, once the dawn had risen. Mothers smiled, keeping sight of their overjoyed children, on their doorsteps, while Fathers rolled along in the snow with the kids.
"'Tis a beautiful day." Elysia commented, leaning out the window. But Ianthe sat very quietly, her head supported by a hand, sitting at the dining table.
Lysandra emerged from her room, laughing. She walked over to her two sisters, sitting down at the dining table. "Why the long face, sister?" she asked Ianthe.
"For Father's words the last evening." Ianthe replied, frowning even more.
"It should not be a worry, sister. It is but a meeting, what do you have to fear?" Lysandra questioned.
"I don't want to wed."
"Then you'd rather accumulate winters until you are lined with the scars of old age, and weak without a companion? Who in those times would take care of you?"
"Then I'll make it more specific -- I do not want to wed men like the Lord Boromir, whose head is all filled with battles, victory and power!" Ianthe answered harshly, banging her fist on the table.
Lysandra jumped at this. Ianthe muttered an apology, and slumped down to rest her head on the table. "What is it that has made him agree to it anyway?" Ianthe wondered aloud.
"Father is of a high rank." Lysandra suggested.
"What about not choosing you or Elysia? The both of you are much more graceful and talented than your sister here, and of course would be a better choice in times when men crease their foreheads and seek for someone to comfort them. I am afraid I will only trouble my husband."
"Elysia is too young. And so am I. Who can say how things will go in the future? Change comes quickly, and no one knows how or why it comes." Lysandra answered.
"And is I seeing twenty-nine winters enough for him?"
"You're closer than the rest of us."
Ianthe groaned. She had some hours before being whisked off to meet her future husband. She rose from her seat, and stared out the window as well. "Might we three go outside for fresher air? It feels dense in here this morning." Ianthe suggested.
The three sisters went out their door, watching the children play in the snow. Ianthe let down her hair, for it could at least shield her from a little cold. She watched as Elysia went up to a heap of snow, and settled down beside to build tiny snowmen. Ianthe sat down beside her.
"You'll get your dress wet!" Elysia reminded.
"It's not like I'm remaining in this dress forever." Ianthe said, brushing that fact away.
All that morning, they joined the children in the snow, and by chance, a figure passed by. A snowball slipped from Elysia's fingers as she gazed above. Ianthe bit back a laugh. "There's your Prince Charming, Elysia!" Ianthe said in a loud whisper.
"Shh! He knows not of my feelings; it would be wise even to keep them secret from him." Elysia nervously replied, staring after the leaving figure.
"Then how will he ever know?"
"Elysia, you fancy Leander?" Lysandra asked. A blush crept up on Elysia's face again, which signalled a 'yes' to Lysandra. She chuckled.
"If you don't ask him soon, you'll not get the chance to attend the Winter Festival with him." Lysandra reminded. The Winter Festival was an annual event, held for a week in wintertime. It was a usual sight for couples, young and old, to attend the festival together, visiting round its many stalls, decorations and parties.
Elysia twirled her finger in the snow, letting it turn numb, while her face showed worry for the mentioned matter.
"And you, sister?" Lysandra asked, looking at Ianthe. "Are you going with the Lord Boromir?"
"I hope our parents don't push us to attend it, that is all." Ianthe answered, rounding a snowball. "I would have loved to build a snow castle, but judging from the hustle and bustle of children running into their houses, it is lunch time, and we are supposed to be up at the citadel for lunch with the steward's family."
The three sisters slowly got up from the ground, brushing off the snow, and entering their house once more.
"Oh there you three are, I've been worrying we might be late. Again." Their mother glared at Ianthe, obviously unhappy about yesterday's lateness. "Go change yourselves into better clothes, and Ianthe, do NOT bun your hair, please."
Ianthe ignored the last instruction, and twisted her hair still, into a lazy bun. She peered into her closet for something comfortable and warm enough.
Their mother surveyed their dressing, and sighed when her eyes fell upon Ianthe. "Will you not ever paint yourself in better shape, my child?"
"Mother, it is but a meeting. This is how I am. I do not wish to wear a disguise and fool the lords of my lazy ways. If they deem me unfit for the marriage, so be it. Rather than they regretting upon marriage." Ianthe argued.
"Ianthe, the dress is beautiful. But I'd wish you would let your hair down. You have beautiful locks to show. Your face is void of powder and rouge, will you not learn from your younger sisters?"
"Mother, you know me. I am not as naturally-blessed as my sisters who are beautiful by nature. Their grace can endure wind and winter.You have watched me grow up for 29 winters, surely you understand that when I say I am not going to doll myself up, I mean it!" Ianthe said, almost shouting.
Her mother, giving up on the argument, went to check on her two sons, who were still sparring with each other in their room.
"Why should I even have to see her, when you have already decided upon her being my wife?" Boromir questioned his father in the dining hall, obviously not wanting to meet his future wife. "Father, you have always let me have my way, I should have the right to choose."
"My son, you have taken too long, and I know your intent is not to have a wife, but we lack a heir in our line, do you not see?" Denethor asked.
Boromir grinned at the sight of his brother. "Tell me brother, how is it she looks?" The two brothers were now in a corner of the hall.
"The lady has jet-black hair, fair skin, and a tall figure." Faramir answered.
"Then why is it you say negatively about her looks?"
"Brother, she puts no powder on her face. Her hair is always tied up lazily into a bun, as though she were some handmaiden. Her fiery temper is already enough to frighten the men off." Faramir explained, shaking his head. "Perhaps you shall find her otherwise."
The snow was gently falling as the family made their way to the citadel. As they removed their cloaks, they were guided by a nearby guard to the dining hall, where they were greeted by the Steward and his sons.
Ianthe glanced at Boromir before returning her gaze to the Steward. Boromir had a pair of eyes that seemed to pierce through others, showing the bearer's authority. Ianthe did not like him at all, though the piercing of his eyes had another odd effect on her, of which she could not explain. His hair was golden, much more golden than that of his brother.
Boromir surveyed the woman before her. He had caught her glancing at him, then turning away. She was tall, but never as tall as himself. Was he going to spend his entire life being together with this woman only by name?
As the family sat down at the dining table, Ianthe only looked at her plate, savouring the food silently, paying utmost attention to it. Halfway through the second course, she felt a nudge from Elysia and turned to her sister, mouthing a "what?"
"I don't think anything you do can salvage the situation now." Elysia whispered.
"You will not attend our wedding." Ianthe whispered back through gritted teeth.
While her parents struck yet another conversation with the steward during dessert, Ianthe excused herself from the table, heading towards a long balcony. She chose to go right to the end of it, being hidden as far as possible from the diners. She had left her cloak forgotten in the process, and wished not to return to take it.
As though someone had read her thoughts, a cloak was draped onto her shoulders. She spun round to come face to face with Boromir.
"Why is the lady out here without a cloak?" Boromir asked, resting his elbows on the balcony railings, gazing out to the city of Men.
"And what has this got to do with you, my Lord?" Ianthe shot back.
"It is simply for the welfare of my people." Boromir answered.
"Oh, so you deem yourself a good ruler, fit for the role? I see you, standing here, as an arrogant and conceited man, who thinks too highly of yourself."
"Really? Well then I see you as a person who judges too quickly, and who does not know her place."
Ianthe glared at Boromir, then clenched her fists and retreated to the table. She had not argued back, for his words were true -- she judged very quickly most of the time, and she had spoken out of turn to someone who was of a higher authority than she. Still, she did not feel totally defeated. She would not concede, for she was sure of her judgment of Boromir.
That evening, after dinner, Elysia visited Ianthe again, asking, "So, what did you two say on the balcony?"
"We spoke little. We were hostile to each other." Ianthe simply replied, her back resting on a propped up pillow. She picked up her flute, examining its craft with her fingers.
"Hostility is not going to save you. You should at least try to be more positive on the marriage." Elysia said, a tone of reprimanding in her voice.
"No one can help it if I run."
"Sure you aren't thinking of that?!"
"Nay, sister, I would be caught in a second. I do not know the outer lands, and I am not a sports person. But I do hate him, I don't want to live with him for the rest of my life!" Ianthe gave a frustrated cry, then there was silence.
"I miss grandmother." Ianthe suddenly said quietly. Her grandmother was the only person who could tame Ianthe's temper, and make her smile by just her presence. Ianthe closed her eyes as she recalled her grandmother drawing her last breath. "I wish she were here." She whispered, as though only telling herself. "It was my fault..."
Ianthe started sobbing, huddle like the figure of a child on the bed. Elysia walked over to her sister, put a hand on her shoulder. "It is not your fault. Grandma did what she did to save you. If she saw you weeping over her like this, she would grieve! We promised not to cry over this."
"If grandmother was here, I would not feel this lost!" Ianthe sobbed, refraining from bursting out into crying.
"Grandmother is always with us. You know that. She is always around though we can't see her, and we can't feel her. She will watch over you." Elysia comforted.
Ianthe forced a smile, wiping her tears. "Aye, she is..."
A/N: Sorry for the addition of a relationship with Ianthe's grandmother. It is a tribute to my own grandmother who has passed away recently...Of course, I am NOT Ianthe.