OMG, love to all who reviewed! they are excellent and you all get cookies! COOKIES COOKIES COOKIES. sorry though for everyone who wanted the girls to have a nice happy adventure…

so there will be no further confusion: think of my work as samurai champloo-esque. I combine Tolkien with my own style; the dude is cool, but I could not possibly do his kindof dialogue. it would end up killing me. thus I will use modern phrases, some cursing, and a few things you may classify as 'iffy for middle earth'. for anyone who does not know what I am talking about, watch adult swim on wednesday nights. get the manga. or pretend I'm writing about harry potter.

Hopefully no one hates Isilme yet (I don't why, but everyone who has read this before seems to) because this next chapter is pretty much about her. I know she may come across as a slight Mary Sue, but she is a "work-in-progress" character. She needs to show some significant change in the series or else this will all be for nothing. Thus she starts out kind of rule-following-perfect-student-goody-good, but she gets really likeable once she learns how to use a weapon, trust me.

-spoiler, goddamn it!-

CHAPTER FOUR: Laughter and Lamentation

Isilme sat in the bushes, watching her four-year old sister carefully make her barefoot way along the garden path to where her father and mother sat. The twelve-year old girl sighed, sitting back and into the soil. She didn't really care if her dress was going to look a mess when she crawled out of this bush later, or that her hair was full of twigs and leaves from the plant all around her. All that mattered now was that she had a plan, a good plan, and one that sounded even better than Luthiel or Eldarion's were.

It was foolproof, this she knew, because Gilrael did whatever you told her, no matter what, and Luthiel enjoyed mischief too much to pass up a chance to go stir up trouble, and Eldarion, well...he was loyal, she supposed, and she didn't think he'd betray her now. Or at least, he probably wouldn't betray Gareth...

Isilme bit her lip, seeing the loophole in the once-invincible plan. Eldarion would be loyal to only one side, but which would it be? If he stuck with her, he might accidentally lose his friend's trust and insult his pride, which she knew was pretty fragile by the looks of it. But if he remained loyal to Gareth, she'd never figure out what she needed to know, and the plan would certainly fall apart. So both ways, it was a loss for her brother. Isilme knew her role in the matter and planned to take responsibility for his grief, but somehow, a part of her wasn't too upset. In normal situations, she'd be in tears, knowing she'd hurt her brother's feelings, but today seemed so different. There was a recklessness to her she'd never felt before, a deep longing fulfilled, a longing to...well...to break rules.

Isilme the Loyal, the Pious, the Chaste, the Charitable, the Never-Do-Anything-Exciting-Whatsoever. All of those were titles given to her, whether by her subjects or by her playfully nagging sister...and also by herself. How many times a day did she curse herself for not taking the more daring way out, for instead following the straight and short path instead of going with Luth or Eldi and the long and uncharted way home? When they went off on adventures, Isilme stayed home. When they did something wild, Isilme avoided the trouble. When mother or father caught them being reckless, Isilme never caught any punishment. Why? Because she never did anything to receive it.

But now she was stopping that. Now she was going to change. And this plan was the key to that.

Every wild idea that she'd ever had that had simply stayed in her head, never being known to the outside world, was being released today in a flurry of thoughts and actions, and best of all, this plan. Luthiel had been surprised when Isilme had run to her with news of the plotting Dol Amroth lords, but even more surprised when she had burst out with a complex and well-thought-out plan for finding out more. Who knew? Maybe in later days, she'd become more involved with Luth and Eldi's mischief, offering to plan some of their dirty deeds and even helping to accomplice some of their daring missions. And maybe they'd ask for her help instead of her offering it.

She smiled to herself, thinking of days to come.

Then her mind came back to the present and she realized the task at hand, and poked her head between the bush's branches, peering over at where Gilrael was now approaching her parents' bench. Arwen and Aragorn were talking here in private as they usually did, beside the miniature fishpond in her mother's private garden. Here there was never interruption, and thier words could go unheard. Or so they thought. The bush Isilme was currently sitting in was one Luthiel had told her about, and the spot Luth and Eldi often came to listen in on their parents conversations. There was a well-used place that seemed almost cut out behind the tall and wide shrub, a place that a teenage sized individual could easily slip in and out of and comfortably sit with their legs crossed beneath them. It was especially useful, as it had a nice vantage-point where the leaves were a bit thinner in the shrub, forming a leafy hole that one could look out through and have a perfect view of the bench.

Isilme looked over at the sundial on her right. It was just about time for mother to get up and attend the weekly council, and father would go off to get lunch for he and his wife to eat back in the garden. Isilme watched as Gilrael climbed up between her parents, and then Arwen headed off to council. Isilme leaned forward into the bushes as she passed, grateful her dress was a dark green today and would blend in well with the plants around her.

Aragorn remained at a the bench, talking quietly with Gilrael, who was making up some mumbo-jumbo about her tummy aching. Isilme rolled her eyes, hoping the girl would get on with it and keep him occupied. The whole purpose of Gilrael was to distract father long enough to not go meet back up with mother, and to keep him from meeting up with the lords of Dol Amroth, who she knew were trying to arrange a meeting with him. If she could keep him here just long enough, the meeting would never be scheduled.

"Ada," Gilrael said softly, her legs kicking back and forth over the side of the bench. "I have a question." Isilme held her breath, hoping Gilrael could remember what to ask.

"What's that, sweetheart?" Her father asked, picking Gilrael up and setting her in his lap.

"Where do babies come from?" Gilrael asked, her sweet voice not wavering for a second. Even from the bushes, Isilme could see the expression of shock on her father's face. He said nothing for a second, and simply stared at his daughter's innocent smile.

"Well, I...uh..." He stumbled with his words, rubbing his chin nervously. Isilme suppressed chuckles from her hiding place in the bush. Gilrael's legs continued swinging happily, and she stared up at her father with expectant eyes.

"Where, ada?" Gilrael asked again.

"Um, babies come from...uh..." This was a sight that would make even her grandfather smile. The great king of Gondor, the fabled warrior, courageous leader, and virtuous king Elessar was at a loss for words when asked a simple question. He stared at his daughter, his mouth opening and closing like some sort of beached fish, but no words coming out. Oh yes, we'll be here for a while...no meeting today.

"Don't you know, father?"

"Do you?" Aragorn asked desperately.

Gilrael shook her head, still smiling innocently at her father.

"Babies come from...their mothers." Aragorn finally said, attempting a small smile at his daughter. Gilrael sat up higher in his lap, looking him straight in the eye.

"But how do they get there?" She whispered, her nose pressing against his and her eyes burning a bit like her mother's did when she was not getting her way.

"Well, uh...the daddy and the mommy love each other very much, right? And they uh...they, uh..." Isilme was wheezing with laughter, grabbing her sides, and trying to contain herself as she rolled on the ground. Father had never looked as confused or uncomfortable as he did now. "The mommy and daddy decide they want a baby."

"Yes..." Gilrael nodded as if she completely understood, her eyes wide and eager for more.

"And so then...then..." Aragorn's eyes were racing as fast as his mind was. Isilme thought she could even see him sweating. "Then the mommy says to the daddy...well, never mind that. Then the mommy gets a baby."

"How does she get it in her?"

"It comes from there."

"So it's been there all along?"

"No, it grows after they decide they want one."

"So they think and it comes."

"Uh...well...close enough..."

"Well, why does the mommy get bigger?"

"Because the baby gets bigger."

"So how big is the baby when it gets in the mommy?"

"Little. Really little." He pinched his finger and thumb together. "Even littler than this."

"That's little." Gilrael said, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Yes, it's very little. So little the mommy doesn't notice sometimes."

"But if she thinks and the baby comes because she thinks, why wouldn't she notice?"

"You're very bright for a four year old, you know that?" Aragorn said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking nervous. "The mommy doesn't notice because she doesn't always know that she's thinking about wanting a baby."

"But the mommy loves a daddy and-"

"Well, sometimes it's a little different."

"How?" Gilrael pushed her nose against her father's again.

"Well, not everything's the same."

"You don't make sense, daddy."

"I'm sorry, darling. It's just not a subject I'm very good at explaining."

"Some parts don't make sense, though. How can a baby come out of just thinking? And how come babies look like daddies and mommies when the baby only comes from the mommy?"

"Well, it doesn't, remember? The mommy and the daddy both decide because they both love each other. So the daddy's...well..."

"Yes?" Gilrael stared at her father indifferently as he struggled momentarily with words.

"The daddy has little fishies. The little fishies look like him. So the daddy's fishy swims into where the mommy has the babies in her. He has to swim up the stream in the mommy, so it takes a little time." Isilme snorted into her hand. "The fishies go inside the mommy's eggs-"

"I thought they were babies." Gilrael interjected.

"Well, they are. But they look like little eggs."

"With a shell? And you scramble them?"

"No, there's no shell. The fishies can go inside the eggs and put what they look like into it."

"Then what? Do the fishies die?"

"I suppose."

"Awww." Gilrael sniffed, "That's sad."

"Yes, but the fishy who put the looks in the egg gets a prize."

"Really?"

"Yes, because he swam the fastest. And he had the best aim for putting the looks on the target on the egg."

"How many fishies are there?"

"Alot."

"Are they little, too?"

"Very little."

"So can I have one as a pet?"

"Maybe." Aragorn said, smiling to himself. Isilme collapsed on the ground, trying her hardest not to scream with laughter.

"Can I name it Mr. Tickle?"

"If you want."

"Will he try to get away and throw his looks in an egg?"

"No, not if you keep him in a jar."

"Can I put him in my room?"

"If you like."

"But daddy, one more thing...how do the daddy's fishies get inside the mommy?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes with a smile. "That's for another day when you're older, dear-"

Something had grabbed hold of Isilme's shoulder, and she covered her mouth to suppress a gasp. She spun around in place, only to see Luthiel's head and arm sticking out of an azalea plant.

"Are you done yet?" Luthiel hissed, "We have to get going soon."

"Yeah, yeah." Isilme nodded, brushing the dirt off of her dress. Keeping a careful eye on her father who was still trying to explain reproduction to her sister, she carefully backed up into the bush behind her and crept out behind the azaleas, the flowers catching a bit in her hair and leaving petals in her locks. When she and Luthiel were finally out of the garden, which they had left on thier knees, they looked horrid. Luthiel's grey green dress was smeared with mud all over the knees and the chest, and Isilme's hands and entire outfit was covered with dust and dirt. Her face had smudges of dust all over, and her hair had fallen from its comb on the back of her head and long locks of hair hung unorderly around her face.

"You look terrible." Luthiel said, giving her younger sister a good look over once they were standing.

"So do you." Isilme said, grinning. She tried brushing off the dirt on her dress, but even with most of it gone, she still looked a mess.

"Will Gilly keep dad at bay long enough? We don't have much time now, and we may have to change. I don't know if we want to go talk to the ladies in these clothes."

"Oh, I don't think she'll have any trouble keeping him talking." Isilme said with another smile, "And besides, the clothes are fine. We've wasted too much time already..."

"You mean you've wasted too much time. I looked all over for you for quite a while before I saw you still in the bushes. I thought we were planning to meet at the fountain ages ago."

"Sorry. I was a bit distracted..." Isilme said quietly, thinking with a laugh about her father and Gilly's conversation in the garden.

"Well, no time for apologies. I'd say 'lets get going', but seeing as this is your plan..." Luthiel said warily, perhaps finding it a bit odd to think of a plan as coming from Isilme. Isilme smiled to herself, nodding enthusiastically. I'm giving the orders? That's unbelievable. For once, this is my idea. My plan. My rules?

Awesome.

"Okay, lets go then."

They hurried down the hall and off towards the guest quarters where the female companions were staying, Isilme, for the first time in her life, leading the way.

"No, for the thousandth time, I will absolutely not." Luthiel crossed her arms stubbornly, standing outside the guest quarters' hallway and looking down at her sister with disapproval.

"Look, Luth, you don't have a choice. You've come this far through with the plan, so you have to keep going with it."

"You never told me I'd have to do...THIS!"

"What? You have a problem with it?"

"Yes, I do. I hate doing it, you know it, and now to ask me to specifically do exactly what I cannot do..."

"So you're physically unable to act female." Isilme rolled her eyes. "I can't believe this. My own sister is refusing to act girly."

"Its just really stupid, okay? Why do I have to be girly to ask them questions?"

"Because, we need to make them think we're princess airheads, and acting girly is a good way to do that. I need you to ask stupid questions about where they got clothes and jewelry and stuff, and make lots of happy comments about their dresses and hair, and never ever openly mention politics. You don't want them to think we're on to something do you, and then not have them tell us anything? Or trust us enough to talk about that stuff around us?"

"They don't trust! They're from Dol Amroth! And everyone there's half-elven practically, and you know what mum's like! Elves don't trust!"

"Stop making invalid arguments, Luth. This is my plan, and my idea, so I'm calling the shots." Isilme said, and Luthiel nodded. Isilme felt a little extra boost of stamina from finally coming out and claiming authority, something she had never done before. "Whether they trust us or not, we're going through with this. And we're going to do it like girly-girls, understood?"

"Yeah, fine." Luth said, rolling her eyes angrily and looking pouty.

"See? You're already looking great! Just keep up the sulky teenage girl look and talk about cute boys and you'll have this down in no time!" Isilme shoved her sister down the hall. "Now, lets go ask some questions."

Luthiel shuffled along behind Isilme as they entered the quarters, approaching the maid at one of the doors and requesting an audience with the two ladies of the Court.

"This had better work." Luthiel muttered to Isilme as the maid went off to fetch the two ladies.

"It will." Isilme said, trying to sound confident as another maid escorted them into a small, brightly decorated tearoom. "Now remember: girly faces, alright?" She gave Luth a fake looking and blank smile.

Luthiel cracked up. Isilme groaned and laid her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry, its just...just...you look so stupid!" Luth snickered, "How the hell am I ever going to keep this up without laughing?"

"I don't know, but if you laugh, I'll kill you, I swear." Isilme gave her another blank, stupid expression. Luthiel didn't laugh this time, but grinned widely and quickly averted her eyes. "Think happy, blank thoughts." Isilme murmured as footsteps came from down the hall and the ladies entered the room.

"Your Highnesses." A bright and clear voice sounded at the door, and the brunette stepped in, her hair shining and her smile dazzling. She dropped into a low curtsy and sat beside them in a low-seated tea chair. The blonde followed, her curtsy even lower and one that swept her magnificent gown, filled with jade colored ruffles and lace, along with her. She moved with a careful posture, and her walk was maintained in such a way that her perfect hips moved back and forth with a rhythmic precision as she sashayed over to her seat. Isilme gave her a blank smile, one that she meant to convey both happiness and stupidity at the same time. The woman smiled back, and spoke with a sultry, smoky voice that filled the room.

"You called us for an audience, Princess Isilme?" She said, and the fact that she made her sentence a casual question brought out the power she was obviously not trying to hide. She wanted the princesses to know they were in her quarters, and also in her territory. Anything they asked her to do here would be done as royal duty, but not without questioning the woman's power and prowess.

"Yes, my lady...um...I don't think we were ever introduced, my lady."

"I am Lady Ilyce of Dol Amroth, and my companion is Lady Greyda." The woman said, sitting up straighter in her seat and adjusting her sleeve. "We are honored to finally meet the princesses of Gondor."

"The honor is ours, my ladies." Isilme nodded happily, turning to Luth to make sure she was nodding as well. Luthiel only nodded when she saw her sister was doing it, then stared at her hands anxiously when Isilme had finished moving her head. "You see, we saw that lovely gown you wore to the dinner last night, and wanted to ask you-"

"Oh, that old frock?" The woman waved her hand casually, as if it were no more than a sleeping gown. "I hope you don't judge my taste on trifles like that; I have many nicer ones in my collection."

"The one you have today is very...um...pretty." Luthiel said, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"Thank you." The woman's eyes flashed onto Luthiel, and momentarily scanned her over. Isilme thought she almost saw a flicker of understanding in the woman's eyes as she watched, but it passed away as she looked back onto Isilme.

"That's a foreign style." Isilme said matter-of-factly, perhaps too matter-of-factly. "I think I saw it on an ambassador's wife or something..." She added with a blank stare, hoping to cover her original manner.

"Yes." The woman raised an eyebrow. Looking over at Lady Greyda, Isilme saw her face was impassive, a small smile the only clue to her inner emotions. "It was a present from my mother."

"Is it from Dol Amroth?" Luthiel asked.

"No," The woman's gaze fell onto Isilme's sister now, and it turned hard and cold immediately. Isilme frowned, hoping Luthiel wasn't staring just as cruelly back as she was prone to doing. Turning, she saw Luthiel out of the corner of her eye, smiling at the woman, but her face was hard and mask-like as if the smile was only covering a stronger emotion. "This dress is from Umbar. I am from the sea-farer's lands originally, and only settled in Dol Amroth after meeting Lord Telemark."

"Is he your husband?" Luthiel asked, crossing her legs casually as she did so.

"My, my, Your Highness...such an interesting question." The woman's eyes flashed at Luthiel again, and Isilme was not surprised to see her stubborn sister's eyes flash menacingly back. A small, almost knowing smile crept into the corners of the woman's mouth as she spoke. "We're married by Umbarian standards, but here in your realm, we are only what can be called 'companions'. I'm sure you want to know the difference?" She raised an eyebrow at Isilme, ignoring Luth this time. Isilme nodded slowly, smiling blankly again. "Well," The woman continued, "In Gondor, a ceremony is necessary for marriage, am I correct? And in Umbar, all that is needed for marriage is...well..." The woman blushed momentarily, then looked up and straight into Isilme's face. "All that is needed is a binding. Which is why Umbarian sailors-" Pirates you mean. Isilme thought to herself. "Have so many foreign wives. All they need to do when they come ashore is..." Another blush and a girlish smile. "Bind with her, and she's his property. Your people may consider it a bit...barbaric by your standards-" Only a bit? By the gods, its rape. "But my kind feel it is most honorable for men to bring home women in such a way. Boys enter manhood when they've brought the first trophy home from a voyage. They're allowed to move out of thier parents' home, work and support their wives, and sire many children from her. And in time, when she is no longer able to do what he wishes of her, he will find another on his next voyage."

"Is that how you met Lord Telemark?" Luthiel asked, her voice lower and bordering on sarcasm. The woman turned to Luthiel now, and her smile only grew wider and seemingly more frightening.

"No, Your Highness." She said, with a definite drop of poisonous emphasis on 'your highness.' "I met Lord Telemark in my father's house. My father is the Lord of Umbar at this time, and Lord Telemark was in his hall on business. We met at a state dinner, and I returned to Dol Amroth with him in the spring. And though we are not 'married' like your parents may be," There was more than a hint of spite in the words 'your parents.' "We consider ourselves husband and wife by the standards of my homeland."

"Oh." Luthiel's eyes dropped to her hands as Isilme's angry gaze fell on her. Isilme bit her lip, trying not to openly yell at her sister for utter stupidity and lack of common sense in that last matter.

"So," Isilme turned to Lady Greyda, who had been sitting silently before now, her dark eyes disappearing every once and a while behind thick and long lashes. "And you Lady Greyda, your dress is also lovely today. Where did you ever find it?"

"Not in Umbar, I'm sure." Greyda smiled softly, her full lips parting slightly as she did so, revealing sparkling white teeth. Her eyelashes batted again, suddenly a very distracting action. Gods, I'll bet Luth was right when she said the men only wanted them for sex. The one's already confessed that she slept with the man to be his wife, and the other lady's got both the eyes and the mouth going here. What next? "I'm not from Umbar, I'm from Dol Amroth, and this gown was made there. Are you two interested in fashion?"

Isilme had to elbow Luth to get her to stop shaking her head and instead nod happily. Luth finally consented, but not without rolling her eyes noticeably. Too noticeably.

"Well, if you love these dresses and jewels such as I did when I was your age, then you would absolutely love Dol Amroth. All the ladies wear thier finest to not only the festivals, but everywhere they go. The streets blossom with color when we go out, and the halls of the lords shimmer with the pearls and diamonds around our necks. I'm sure you would love it. Perhaps you could go back with us on our return home."

"I've been before." Luthiel said shortly. "There was a tournament there last spring; Isilme and I were in attendance."

"Oh, then we must have seen you, surely! My husband is one of the guests of honor every year." Lady Greyda leaned forward anxiously, but there was something in her smile that was playing irritatingly in Isilme's mind. Something there that was under the surface no doubt, but something she couldn't quite put her finger on..."What were you wearing, dear?"

"Armor." Luthiel said, leaning back in her chair. "Mine was the sigal of the blue and silver eagle. Perhaps you saw it waving at the end? I was champion at that tournament again this year."

"Oh my." Lady Greyda's face had gone pale, but her smile remained. "I did not know you were as gifted with a sword as that, Your Highness. I didn't even know women competed in tournaments anymore..."

"Well, we do. And I've won them all so far." Luthiel's jaw was set exactly as her father's was when he was both angry and determined. Isilme saw her sister's eyes flash momentarily, and she sighed angrily. Count on Luth's ego to spoil the plan...

"You are a force not to be reckoned with, then." Lady Ilyce concluded, her voice filling the room once more. "I don't suppose anyone has dared try to openly battle you outside a tournament, have they?" The woman raised her eyebrow again; that last emphasis on 'outside' seemed a little too knowing for Isilme's liking. Was it possible these women knew about the attack on Eldarion and Luthiel? And if so, whose side were they on in the matter?

"Only fools." Luth said, her knuckles white as her fingers gripped the chair's arm.

"And none of them succeeded?"

"No..." Luthiel's eyes were menacing. "Never."

"And what about your brother?" Lady Ilyce's smile suddenly looked as threatening as Luthiel's eyes. "Has he ever been challenged outside of tournament? And did he succeed as well? Perhaps against street thieves?" She paused before adding: "Or did they victor over him? I believe he almost lost his neck..."

Luthiel's eyes grew wide, and she turned to Isilme, her mouth falling open. Isilme stared back, trying to show Luthiel with a glance that this was not the time to look shocked, but she too was blown away by the lady's question.

"You see, Your Highnesses," Lady Ilyce leaned forward until her face was but inches from Isilme's. "What you think others don't know...can very well hurt you. Don't think your secret is safe yet. There are others who will try to succeed where the last ones did not. You may not walk away as lucky this time, and your brother may lose more than blood if he steps in our path again. Do not underestimate the power that grows at your doorstep; it is only a matter of time before the blow is struck again, and this time it will be fatal. More fatal than even your father or mother has perceived. Don't think they don't know. They have already seen what haunts your footsteps, and they know what price you will all have to pay. It is only thier mistake in not stopping it that will finally bring them down. And you along with them."

Isilme sat silent, her mouth hanging open. What the woman said was not being comprehended somehow. Was this possible? Was this even remotely possible? How could she have done something so stupid? I INVITED MYSELF TO TEA WITH THE ENEMY!

"Y-you...you won't succeed..." Luthiel mumbled, her eyes still wide with shock. Isilme thanked the gods at least someone was getting back her feet; she could hardly manage to breathe. "Our parents...they can..."

"What? Stop us? Not likely, Your Highness. They know who we are, and they know what it is we seek. They have practically given it to us before. What makes you think they'll refuse it to us now? As far as we are concerned, the only price to pay for it is blood, but it is your blood that matters, your blood that will spill. Denied twice we rise again, in fulfillment of what was once said."

"Of course, neither one of you will remember any of this." Lady Ilyce pulled a small, clear bottle from her bodice and set it on the floor. She pulled her foot out from under the ruffles of her dress and held it over the bottle before looking up at the princesses. "It was a very good act, girls, but it wasn't good enough. I'm afraid you can't fool us that easily, and for your flaw you will pay. Goodbye." And with that she stomped down on the bottle, shattering it beneath her heel. Lady Greyda stood up and followed her out the door with one last sugar-sweet smile to the princesses, sitting there in shock. Luthiel sprang to her feet in pursuit, but the door slammed shut in her face, locking immediately as she tried to shake the doorknob. Luthiel spun angrily on her heel to face Isilme, then a strange look came over her. She sniffed the air deeply, then groaned and fell face first onto the ground.

"Luth!" Isilme's mind raced; she panicked and immediately forgot what she was doing. Her hands fumbled clumsily for the bottle's shards; something had just given her the urge to throw it out a window. She tripped on her own feet and fell to her knees, her hand coming down on top of the glass shards. They cut directly into her palm, lodging themselves in her skin. She let out a scream of pain, pulling her hand up, now bleeding. The plan. Her mind was racing; it was like her brain was choking and desperately spitting back whatever she had been thinking of earlier. What about the plan? She couldn't even think straight, suddenly she was thinking about the plan. What did the plan matter at a time like this? The bloody plan...her bloody hand...it was all going wrong. This is not working. She thought. This wasn't supposed to happen.

And then, she smelled something. Something sweet, like perfume. It made her light-headed, and the sudden sensation of floating had entered her. It was an addictive scent, almost like something a lady might wear. It was making her so dizzy...so very dizzy, and so very, very confused. What had happened? She couldn't remember. She looked for the source, and found the stained spot on the rug where the smell originated. She took another deep sniff, and suddenly the smell was no longer sweet but acrid, and burning the insides of her nostrils. It was reaching her throat her lungs, burning horribly, filling her tongue with an acid taste. She moaned in pain before falling to the ground, her world going black around her.