You can call it lame or whatsoever, but I am still in the midst of improvement…Constructive criticism welcome.

Chapter 4

"Have you heard of the wedding date?"

"Sometime next month?" Ianthe answered, shrugging of the question.

"Are you not in the least bit upset about it? This is highly unlikely of you." Elysia said, looking suspiciously at her sister.

"Like you said two nights ago, being upset cannot solve anything."

"Pardon me for saying this, but sister, you are headstrong, stubborn, you get the drift, and yet here you are, as though already accepting the marriage!"

"I may have, I seem to, but it does not mean I have accepted that man!" Ianthe replied sharply. "I beg you, wash the issue off. What about Leander?"

Ianthe noticed a blush creeping up on Elysia's face again, and she paced around the room. "Well...what about him?"

"Why, the Winter Festival, of course!" Ianthe exclaimed.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I do not have the courage to tell him." Elysia finally said, sitting down on a nearby chair. "You know I am timid, sister. I am not like you."

"Yes of course you are not like your unrefined sister." Ianthe murmured.

"Hmm? What did you say, sister?"

"Oh, nothing. And what are you planning to do about it? Do you want to just watch him walk past you your whole life? And what if you glimpse the sight of another in his arms? Do you want to suffer like that?"

"What about you? You are stubbornly not accepting your future husband. Do you want to live your whole life watching him come and go, bonding with him only by name?" Elysia shot back.

"Do not twist the matter, Elysia."

Elysia sighed heavily. "It is now my turn to find the house feeling dense and humid. I would like some fresh air outside. Do you not want to skate? The ice is now thick and stable. It shall blow our worries away from our face."

"I do not wish to skate, but I desire my flute. It was grandmother who taught me how to play it, despite her son's disapproval. I will watch you while I play." Ianthe replied, patting her pocket. She carried her flute wherever she went, in a pocket in her dress.

"Oh but bring your skates along anyway, sister. You might change your mind." Elysia persuaded.

"Very well."

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The two sisters traveled down the city of snow, until they came upon the first level of it. Through a small door north of the city, they went to greet the glistening lake of ice, which stretched rather far out. Ianthe pulled her cloak closer to her as she sat on the bank, watching her sister put on skating boots.

Ianthe withdrew her flute from her pocket, playing a quiet tune while a petite and beautiful glided on the ice. Elysia closed her eyes, feeling the cold breeze against her fair face. There was no one about, for they were all keeping warm in their homes. Soldiers were on duty, puffs of smoke emitting from their lips as they paced about, feeling the cold from the metallic armor. They had cloaks about them. Somewhere in the city, Lysandra was singing. The two brothers of Ianthe still held swords in their hands.

Their cheeks grew rosier by the minute, and even a certain beauty graced Ianthe's face. Her dark hair was splayed all around her as she switched to a sorrowful tune, and Elysia's skating slowed down, as she pondered on memories, her hair billowing behind her.

Elysia's eyes flew open as she heard Ianthe's flute stopped. She followed her sister's gaze, and her sight rested upon a familiar figure. Elysia stared for a very long time, her cheeks red from blushing. The figure stared back, as though mesmerized.

Ianthe slowly got up and crept away quietly, her presence unknown. Taking a last peek before she closed the door behind her, she saw Elysia skating towards Leander, nervous. Not desiring to drop any eaves, Ianthe went away, smiling to herself.

"Sister! Come. Lord Boromir has left a message for you. He has invited you to attend the winter festival with him." Lysandra reported, advancing towards Ianthe.

Ianthe gaped at her sister, not for the news, but for the excellent garb that she was in. Lysandra gave a puzzled look, then understood. "Oh, this. I just returned from the town's tailor. This is for the festival..." Lysandra explained, beaming.

"W-What did you say just now, anyway?" Ianthe enquired, shifting her gaze away from the gown.

"Lord Boromir has invited you to attend the Winter Festival with him."

Ianthe gaped yet again at Lysandra. "That is impossible! He did not like me one bit when we first locked our sight on each other, how could he want to attend the festival with me?!" Ianthe asked aloud, pacing around.

"Do you still dislike him so, Ianthe? Does he irk you that much? I suppose it were one of his Father's wishes."

"I hate him!" Ianthe immediately replied. "Well isn't he all so obedient to his father!"

Lysandra smiled at Ianthe's words. "You are always too hasty in choosing your words." Lysandra commented.

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"You have asked her?" Faramir asked his brother while they dueled with their swords.

"I left a message for her. Her beautiful sister said she was not home." Boromir answered, meeting his sword with his brother's.

Faramir stepped back as Boromir advanced. "Beautiful sister? Lady Lysandra? Have you an eye for her?"

"Nay, I spoke of her as beautiful, simply to tell the truth." Boromir swung his sword, and Faramir dodged the blow.

"I thought you disliked her. Why would you do Father's bidding and invite her for the festival?" Faramir questioned.

"Why do you put the matter in such awful words, brother? Yes, it is to please father, but that is only a fraction of my reason. I am curious about this maiden." Boromir answered.

"Ah, I see."

----------------------

"Who are you attending the festival with, Lysandra?" Ianthe asked, sipping from her goblet of hot chocolate.

Lysandra sipped on hers before replying, "I am going with our two brothers."

"Why? You have many suitors, you don't fancy a single one?"

"No. They all look to me for beauty, that is all. I do not want that in a partner. I shall go with my brothers. They will be as much fun. I wonder if Elysia will go?"

Ianthe grinned. "The last I saw of her, she was with Leander. Reckon she'd go with him. He had stared at her mesmerized! If it were not for spoiling the atmosphere, I'd have laughed. I know not what Elysia might have said to him, for I left them to their hearing soon after."

"Ah, she perhaps finally will pluck the courage to expose her feelings." Lysandra said, nodding in approval. She then let out a laugh, one that was musical. "Ianthe! Your lips are outlined by chocolate!"

Ianthe ran to the mirror, and laughed at herself as well. After cleaning up herself, Ianthe walked slowly to her grandmother's locked room, retrieved the key from a hidden drawer, and entered.

Nothing had been moved ever since Ianthe's grandmother passed away. Ianthe's father had kept the key away in a drawer hidden among the walls, but Ianthe had found it. She had been in here once in a while to 'speak' to her grandmother, or to dust the room. It had been three weeks since Ianthe last stopped by. She softly locked the door behind her, then surveyed the room. A bed stood at a corner of the room, concealed by a semi-transparent lavender curtain.

Ianthe found the tables rather dusty, and took out cloth from a closet where she hid some supplies of various sorts, so as to not be caught passing into the room. No one suspected anything for the tables being clean and polished, and the floor scrubbed and shining, for no one else entered the room.

After her task was finished, Ianthe sat on a nearby cushion chair, looking towards the old bed. "Grandma?" Ianthe called out, even though she knew that there would be no reply. "I have been betrothed to the Lord Boromir. I feel very lost, for I know I cannot do a thing to prevent the marriage, but I do not want a man who dislikes me and who is arrogant, to be my life mate. Am I very wrong to be defiant? Grandma, if you were here, I wouldn't feel so lost. I wish you would give me an answer as to what I should do..."

As if by magic, a scroll rolled down to the ground, while dust rose from it. Ianthe was stunned for a moment, but she assumed it was the wind from the window. She held up the scroll, and hesitated, but decided to open it. What harm would it do, to read it, anyway? Ianthe unrolled the scroll, letting her eyes fall upon the words.

"Learn to accept and accept to learn."

Ianthe read the line over and over again. She noticed that over time, the ink had been dissolved by some means, perhaps soaking of water, but only this line was left visible. She creased her forehead. What did that mean? Was her grandmother there? Was she trying to tell her granddaughter something?

The Ianthe widened her eyes. "You want me to accept my future husband, and learn to love him?" As though by answer, a breeze blew in through the slightly opened window, leaving Ianthe to stare into space, still stunned.

--------

The days came and went, and for a week or so, nothing happened. Elysia and Ianthe had gone often to the lake, but sometimes Elysia would sneak out of the house to meet Leander. It was confirmed that she was attending the Festival with him. Though, when asked how she voiced out to him, Elysia would only blush and look away.

The days drew nearer, the snow thicker, and soon the day came for the festival.

"Would you like me to help you?" Elysia asked, bringing her gown over to Ianthe's room. Ianthe knew her sister referred to dolling up, and for once, she nodded.

Elysia stared at her sister, surprised. "But if you don't want to, by all means, it's fine with me." Ianthe reassured.

"No, it's not that. You hated dressing up. Why the sudden agreement to it now? The past week, you have been very odd. You stare into space, you play with your food. Your mind is not with us all the time. What is wrong? To be frank, I am not used to having such a quiet Ianthe in the house. Where is your temper?" Elysia threw questions at Ianthe, concerned for the change in her sister.

"Perhaps if grandmother were here, she would tell me to access the situation more calmly, and accept this man. She has told me..."

"Are you running a fever? What are you saying? You said you hated him, and yet you say grandmother has told you to accept him?"

Ianthe explained the events in grandmother's room, and Elysia gasped. "You've been into grandmother's room?!"

"Shh! Be silent, no one must know." Ianthe put a finger to Elysia's lips. "I do not see how I can love this man. Yet I am curious as to why grandma has told me this. Perhaps it is purely coincidental as to what was on the scroll, but since it has taught me something...Maybe I should heed it. But I do not think I will love this man. Perhaps we shall be hostile still, but come to an agreement. I hate to think about it, but perhaps it is like we are two countries at war agreeing on a peace treaty." Ianthe sighed. "In any case, for once, I shall see if I ever can be beautiful, if not graceful. Why spoil the fun? I am doing this not for his eyes to see, but for mine."

Elysia let out a smile, and nodded. "Lysandra shall be performing at the festival this evening." Elysia informed, sitting Ianthe down in front of her dressing table. Ianthe was already in her gown, a light shade of periwinkle, with light, airy-looking material. It resembled the chiton. (A/N: Greek dressing...) A silver belt hung about her waist, decorated with leaves. It was a gift from her aunt, who had heard of the engagement not some time ago. Ianthe had wondered at the gift, for it was more suited to the likes of Lysandra and Elysia.

Ianthe brought her gaze up to the mirror, and saddened at the reflection. How could such an ugly duckling fit into the gown? It was painful to look at the mirror, and Ianthe kept her gaze downcast. Elysia noted it, and said, "You should not be so negative. You are beautiful in your own way. You do not seem to always smile. You look beautiful when you smile. Trust me. If you think me beautiful, and you, not, then we wouldn't be called sisters."

"Well my hands have never done higher grooming than the basic."

Ianthe smiled at Elysia through the mirror, and then looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she looked better when she was looking at her reflection in a happier mood. "Well the first thing to do is styling your hair. So we can get it out of the way while we colour your face." Elysia said, then withdrew a silver pin from her pockets. "I got this for you as a birthday gift for you, but now I am giving it to you early. Happy 29th birthday, Ianthe."

Ianthe picked up the pin. At the end of it was a periwinkle-coloured flower, surrounded by silver leaves. A single leaf dangled from a single thin, silver chain right below the flower. "Did you arrange it with Aunt Maeve?" Ianthe asked, laughing.

"It was pure coincidence that the colours suited." Elysia answered. She gathered her sister's hair, braiding it into a bun, let the ends of it fall before her shoulder. The pin was stuck through her hair. "There, it shows off your locks as well as let you have the comfort of not letting Boromir see you in pretence."

Ianthe grinned up at her sister. A pouch was laid out on the table, and Elysia carried on with painting Ianthe to beautiful face. Ianthe shut her eyes, letting Elysia carry on, and nearly dozed off. She was awoken by Elysia's excited shout of, "Done!" Ianthe slowly opened her eyes, slowly looking at the mirror.

Ianthe froze in her seat, breath-taken. Was that her in the mirror? Who was that elegant face staring back at her? "I've made your lips a paler and lighter colour, for I do not think dark suits what you are clad in at the moment." Elysia explained. "Perhaps you wanted to flaunt your temper?" she joked.

Ianthe did not reply, but continued staring at herself in the mirror. She might not be as pretty as Elysia and Lysandra when they, too, had a makeover, but Ianthe's eyes had never seen herself in powder and rouge, and was stunned at the effect. How expert Elysia was in this...

Ianthe tore her gaze from the mirror, and waited nearby while Elysia changed into her gown. "Umm, sister, may I ask of you to help me lace the back of my dress?" Elysia requested.

Ianthe retrieved something from the drawer, then went over to her sister. Elysia noticed that Ianthe now hung a single ear accessory on her right ear. "I had thought you had let the wound heal." Elysia said.

"After the pain I went through? Of course not!" Ianthe replied. Her mother had brought her at a tender age of 7 to the jeweler for ear piercing, but upon the first jolt of pain, Ianthe had wailed, begging her mother not to have her pierce the other ear. Still, Ianthe kept a stick through the hole, to prevent it from healing. Now, a silver accessory hung from it, which resembled a mythic design.

Elysia advanced towards the dressing table as her sister finished the lacing. Elysia was such an expert at what to do, there was no need for Ianthe to help her at all. Once again, Ianthe felt herself land in the arms of helplessness and uselessness.

A knock resounded from outside the house. Then later, knocks came hurriedly on Ianthe's door. Ianthe peered out the door, greeted by her mother. "My dear child!" Her mother exclaimed, taking in the sight. "You finally are willing to make yourself presentable."

"Which does not mean I have an interest in the steward-heir." She muttered in reply.

"In any case, Leander and Lord Boromir have arrived. They are waiting in the dining hall." With that, she left, smiling to herself.

"Why is mother smiling to herself?" Elysia asked.

"Why do you ask a question which you know the answer to?"

When Elysia was done, Ianthe thought her sister had looked more beautiful than a fairy, as she had thought so the other day. Elysia donned a dress of royal blue, contrasting against her fair skin.

"Do you think I should rid myself of this mask?" Ianthe nervously asked.

"You are not going to waste my efforts!"

"I've never shown this to the world before!" Ianthe argued, but by now they had reached the dining hall.

The two men looked up from their conversation, and Leander smiled gently at Elysia, offering a hand. Boromir, on the other hand, looked at Ianthe as though his eyes were under some spell. Was that his wife-to-be? Why had the rebellious she made herself beautiful now?

Ianthe felt jittery, and even more so under the intense stare of Boromir. She turned round, her back towards her husband-to-be, wondering if she had looked odd. If only he would stop staring! Ianthe wanted to snap at him for that, for she felt perhaps Boromir was only after beauty. But as soon as she was about to speak, Boromir, too, offered a hand.

Ianthe took it, but she did not look at its owner. Leander and Elysia had already left the scene. Very slowly, they made their way to the festival square, but neither spoke. It was very unlikely of both of them, but Ianthe had no wish to speak, and did not know what to speak.

Boromir had wanted to comment on Ianthe's dressing, but thought better of it. He still held disapproval of this woman, and perhaps even if he did sing praises of her, another verbal war would arise.

As they strolled on, the silence seemed to stretch into an uncomfortable tension, and Ianthe's sneeze made Boromir bit back a smile. Ianthe hugged her winter coat closer, releasing her hand from the link Boromir and her had.

"Are you cold, my lady?" Boromir finally asked.

Ianthe nodded a little, and then replied, "I'll be fine in a while. It's just too empty in these streets."

Lights of various colours shone before them, and they knew they had reached the Festival Square. Beyond the square extended three lanes of stalls and decorations. Ianthe felt relieved as a little more warmth returned, with the hustle and bustle of people, and the flames from the lights above. A smile crept onto Ianthe's face.

There was a performance in the middle of the square, and Ianthe hurried to the stage, looking up at the performance. Boromir kept up with her pace. As the performer bowed and left, a beautiful woman ascended the stage, and Ianthe applauded along with the others. Boromir looked at the performer, and realised that it was Lysandra, Ianthe's sister. Lysandra looked even more beautiful that night, for she was in colourful and radiant clothes, and she had danced and sang, moving with grace.

There is so much difference between Lysandra and Ianthe, Boromir noted.

As the performance came to an end, Ianthe suddenly exclaimed, "Oh that was beautiful, do you not agree?" She was then surprised herself that she had spoke to Boromir as though he were an old friend. She remained silent after that, avoiding his eyes.

"Aye, that was." Boromir agreed. "Your sister has talent."

Ianthe smiled, then sighed silently, such that it was inaudible to anyone but herself. Boromir's words had reminded her of how inferior she felt. Her train of thoughts was broken when someone nearby dived for her pockets. Ianthe cried out in alarm, at what he had stolen. Her flute was gone!

Without warning, Ianthe rushed after the thief. Why had the thief even stolen it anyway? Or did he miss her purse and grabbed the flute instead? Ianthe wished it was been her purse that was stolen, not the flute. Every flute that she owned, broken or no, held sentimental value for her, and she hated for any one to be lost.

"Wait, Ianthe-" Boromir had called out, but Ianthe paid no heed, and he dashed after her.

Ianthe ran off into the right lane, dodging couples as she flew after the thief. It was hard to keep him in sight with the crowd, but Ianthe noted that he wore black -- a shade not many were wearing. The fool doesn't even conceal himself! Ianthe thought. She had only been at the festival for a while, and yet something like this had happened. She could faintly hear someone shouting her name behind, but she cared not. The flute first, then the shout.

Ianthe gained on the thief rather quickly, for she had longer legs than he, and she reached out her hand to grab him. At the same time, Boromir had caught up with her, now being in a less concentrated lane. The thief, terrified of being caught, threw down the flute at the ground, and sprinted off. Ianthe landed on the ground to catch the flute, afraid for its fall, and Boromir now lay on top of her.

They were laughing, even though it was not funny at all. Yet Ianthe was contented for the flute to be back. When Ianthe finally realised the position she was in, hastily got up after Boromir, both of them feeling awkward.

"I apologize." Boromir said.

"There was no wrong." Ianthe assured, putting her flute back into her coat. They leaned over the wall, watching the festivities below. They were now a level above the square.

--------------------

Silence regained its position, and then Boromir asked, "If I may ask so, what significance does the flute hold that makes you so eager to get it back? You were furious in the chase."

"I have a passion for the flute... So I had not want to make this the first flute I lose. My father does not approve of me mastering the flute rather than the harp, but in the end he could do nothing to stop me from playing it. It was my grandmother who taught me how to play it." Ianthe answered, then she grew alarmed that she had divulged so much information when she needed only to say she loved the flute dearly.

"Ah, I see." Boromir replied, not knowing what to say. How had this woman grown less fiery, and less defiant? He was puzzled.

Ianthe wondered if she would ever grow to love this man, or whether he would love her. She decided that perhaps since they both did not agree with each other on the marriage, she might ask of him what he would do. "My Lord," she began hesitantly, "I have a question. What is it that you seek of this marriage?"

"What about you?" Boromir returned the question, for he did not know what to answer to it.

Ianthe was stumped. She had not foreseen the coming of the question back towards her. "You may say that I have spoken too boldly, and it is not my place to negotiate, and I will not deny it, but, my lord, if you so want me to bear you a heir, I will fulfill my duty, though I do it without love. It is your duty to see that a heir is present, thus this marriage, is it not? And I will mother the child, of course, and sit home and tend to it, though it is unlikely of me. But I have a request.. And that is to have mutual respect between us. I dislike discrimination, my Lord."

Boromir looked at the woman, who kept her eyes fixed on the festival square. He, too, gazed at the square, then replied, "My lady, will you have that? Why do you seal the marriage with a peace treaty? Do you really want our marriage to last like this for our lives? Will there not be at least friendship between us?"

Ianthe turned abruptly towards her husband-to-be, and said a bit more harshly, "Do you think even if we tried, there would be friendship between us? How much do we even like and appreciate each other? You see me as a distasteful wife, and perhaps you are right. You seem to have no respect for women who voice out their opinions, so how could there be friendship between us, if we do not even agree on such things?"

A sigh escaped from Boromir's lips. "Am I so detestable?" he questioned. Ianthe did not reply. "Why do you not release your hair?" Boromir finally questioned, and without asking for permission, removed the silver pin from Ianthe's hair.

Ianthe gasped as the wind blew her hair into place. She looked away, closing her eyes.

Boromir stared at her. It was the second time that day he had done so, and for the same reason as well. How had the little caterpillar morphed into a butterfly so suddenly? "Why do you not show your beauty when you can? Do you purpose on it to let others think you are a dull, fiery maiden?" Boromir asked.

"Please, sir, lay your eyes off me." Ianthe said, trembling from the cold wind.

"And why would you not want me to gaze upon you?"

For that Ianthe had no answer. She did not know why. In that moment, she felt unsure of herself, as though she found herself a stranger. To try to ease off the embarrassment, Ianthe had requested to stroll down the streets through the festival.

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Faramir greeted Boromir as he entered his room. "Did you not go, Faramir?"

"Nay, never on the first day. So, how was she? Did she argue with you again?"

"Aye... For some part, yes."

Spotting the pondering look on his brother's face, Faramir asked, "How did she look like?"

"Most beautiful."