Chapter 16
IN THE meanwhile the host made ready for the return to Minas Tirith. The weary rested and the hurt were healed. For some had labored and fought much with the remnants of the Easterlings and Southrons, until all were subdued.
But at the last when the month of May was drawing near the Captains of the West set out again; and they went aboard ship with all their men, and they came to the great fields of the Pelennor and saw again the white towers under tall Mindolluin, the City of the Men of Gondor, that had passed through the darkness and fire to a new day.
And there in the midst of the fields they set up their pavilions and awaited the morning; for it was the Eve of May, and the King would enter his gates with the rising of the Sun.
And when the sun rose, then all the bells rang, and all the banners broke and flowed in the wind; and upon the White Tower of the citadel the standard of the Stewards, bright argent like snow in the sun, was raised over Gondor for the last time.
Now the Captains of the West led their host toward the City and halted a furlong from the walls. A barrier was laid across the entrance to the City, and there stood Faramir the Steward and Hurin Warder of the Keys.
A hush fell upon all as out from the host stepped the Dunedain in silver and grey; and before them came the Lord Aragorn. He was clad in black mail girt with silver, and he wore a mantle of white clasped at the throat with a great jewel of green; but his head was bare save for a star upon his forehead bound by a slender fillet of silver. With him was Gandalf robed all in white, and four small figures that many men marveled to see.
Faramir met Aragorn in the midst of those there assembled, and he knelt, and said: "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office." And he held out a white rod; but Aragorn took the rod and gave it back, saying: "That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"
Then Faramir stood up and spoke in a clear voice: "Men of Gondor, behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain, wielder of the Sword Reforged, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"
And all the host and all the people cried yea with one voice.
Then Faramir opened the casket, and he held up an ancient crown. It was all white, and the wings of either side were wrought of pearl and silver in the likeness of the wings of a sea-bird, and seven gems of adamant were set in the circlet, and upon its summit was set a single jewel the light of which went up like a flame.
Then Aragorn took the crown and held it up and said: Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!
Then Aragorn did not put the crown upon his head, but said: "By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."
Then Frodo came forward and bore the crown to Gandalf; and Aragorn knelt, and Gandalf set the White Crown upon his head, and said: "Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"
But when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him. And then Faramir cried:
"Behold the King!"
And all the trumpets were blown, and the King Elessar went forth and came to the barrier, and Hurin of the Keys thrust it back; and the King passed through the flower-laden streets, and came to the Citadel, and entered in; and the banner of the Tree and the Stars was unfurled upon the topmost tower, and the reign of King Elessar began, of which many songs have told.
-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien
ADRIENNE looked about her in sheer wonder as the procession moved through the levels of the City. The people of Minas Tirith were overjoyed to welcome a King into their city once more, and they had certainly gone out of their way to show it. Garlands and wreaths of flowers adorned every statue and wall, and had been entwined in the branches of every tree or bush. The people themselves had turned out in all their finery; every man and woman wearing their best clothes, and often every piece of jewelry they owned. And all of them, from the children to the grandparents, beamed and waved as the King passed them.
"Adrienne, look at that girl there, the one with the brown and blue dress on! Isn't her necklace pretty?" Erin exclaimed, freeing one hand from the task of guiding her horse to point. Adrienne smiled at Erin's enthusiasm and agreed, glancing at the metalwork on the gate they were passing now. Everything in this city was so beautifully crafted; a work of art in itself.
Adrienne thought it was the fifth level they were entering now, though she couldn't be sure. Her horse, a tan-colored mare named Hirelle, pranced beneath her suddenly. "Erin! Adrienne!" a deep voice boomed out from the crowd. There at the edge of the crowd lining the street stood Vilad, a crutch tucked beneath his arm.
"Vilad!" Erin exclaimed, grinning. "Come and join us!" She dismounted and began to lead Greda, even as the other three girls behind them caught sight of Vilad. Soon all five had dismounted and walked with Vilad; the procession was moving slowly enough that they caused no problems.
"How long have you been walking?" Kavila asked Vilad.
"A couple of weeks, with a crutch," Vilad answered with a sigh. "The Warden has said that I may use a cane next week, but I will not be able to walk unaided for some time."
"What's happened to the armory?" Adrienne asked.
"A friend of mine has taken it over until I am fit to resume my post," Vilad replied wistfully. "I am able to oversee some classes and practices, but my strength is not what it used to be. Yet the Warden has assured me I shall recover eventually. And then, my lady Adrienne," his voice turned serious, "we shall see if battle experience has improved your form."
"We killed a cave troll, me and Adrienne," Erin piped up.
Vilad stopped in his tracks. "You killed a cave troll?" Erin and Adrienne nodded enthusiastically as he began walking again, throwing them incredulous glances.
"I helped kill one, after it knocked Kalva unconscious!" Sarah put in, and Vilad smiled a little. "Only after it harmed Kalva?" he teased. She sputtered indignantly. "Speaking of Kalva, why does he not ride with you?"
"He didn't want to. He's back in the ranks with the common soldiers." Sarah answered.
"Ah. And what tales of my most reluctant student?" Vilad turned to Kavila.
"Um…it was a battle." Kavila stated.
Vilad waited for more, raising his eyebrows.
"I don't do battles." Kavila elaborated. Vilad continued to look slightly puzzled.
"She faced off with a Nazgul!" Erin called.
"Did not, Warford!" Kavila returned indignantly. "I saw one coming towards me and I fainted!"
"Whatever," Erin muttered, earning a "Shut up, Warford!" from Kavila, who had heard Erin mumble something and was certain it was about her.
Vilad threw back his head and laughed loud and long. "You shall have to tell me the whole story," he said. "But not now, I think; you are about to pass into the sixth level and should mount up. That is where the noble lords live. I shall leave you now."
Amidst protests and farewells the five girls remounted their steeds, and Vilad returned to the crowd lining the road. Adrienne and her friends passed under the great gate into the sixth level, excitement growing as they drew near the Citadel.
Sarah stared around her in wonder as the procession approached the Citadel. Here were gathered the counselors and generals, as well as the Tower Guard. All were dressed in their finest garments and uniforms, the wives and daughters of the men waving colored scarves and handkerchiefs at them. The cloths were spots of color among the blinding white stone of the main Citadel, whose topmost tower glinted a breathtaking gold in the sunrise. Banners and standards waved from the windows and balconies of the palace, and servants upon the balconies dropped basketfuls of white petals upon the King as he entered the palace.
The Tower Guards stepped forward and took their horses, and the five girls followed the other members of the procession into the palace. Once inside Sarah nearly paused again to marvel at the decorations: blue and green cloth was draped between columns and among the railings of the stairs, and flower garlands adorned every statue. The only areas that were bare were the floor and the thrones at the end of the long hall.
The rest of the onlookers held back as Aragorn and Faramir strode up to the dais where the thrones stood, Faramir walking a few steps behind Aragorn. When he reached the dais Aragorn ascended the steps to the throne, the tall winged crown making him seem even taller. Faramir knelt at his feet until he commanded the Steward to assume his seat.
The Fellowship came forth, led by Gandalf, and knelt before the King. Gandalf spoke, blessing Aragorn's reign on behalf of the Fellowship with whom he had traveled. Then each member of the Fellowship came forth separately to give their own well-wishes to the King on behalf of their race. All saw the King discreetly wipe away tears when the last group, the hobbits, had made their speech.
The Fellowship was followed by the counselors and nobles, who were lined up quite a fair distance, waiting for their moment before the King. After a few minutes Megan whispered, "We don't need to watch this. Let's go."
"Where?" Sarah asked. "We can't exactly go back to Gandalf's room."
"We can find a servant and ask to be directed to whoever is in charge of assigning rooms." Megan answered.
"It's as good a plan as any," Erin said, and the others nodded. They had only taken a few steps when Gandalf, dressed in those intimidating white robes, stepped up and blocked their way.
"Have you given your blessings to the King, my ladies?" the wizard asked sternly.
"No…" Adrienne replied slowly. "I didn't know we needed to. We're not nobility or anything."
"You are the only representatives from your world," Gandalf said quite seriously. "It would be exceedingly discourteous to leave before you had spoken to the King."
"All right, we will," Erin said quickly, unwilling to argue with the wizard. "But while we're waiting to do that, could you help us figure out what to do about our rooms? We can't keep staying with you, but I don't think we've been assigned rooms."
"I will make arrangements," Gandalf said with a smile. "Now hurry, or you shall be waiting long past lunch."
Erin led her friends to the crowd of well-wishers, ignoring the surprised and somewhat disapproving glances cast their way. "All right. We have to act like nobility, even if we aren't. Who wants to give the blessing?"
"I think you should," Megan told Erin. "After all, you got us into this by telling Gandalf we would do it."
"Me?" Erin retorted incredulously. "I'm the one with a horrible case of stage fright. I'd burst into tears the moment I got up there!"
"Oh, you will not!" Kavila rolled her eyes. "You'll do fine. Besides, you know better than anyone what to say, Lord of the Rings expert."
"I'll blank out when I get up there!" Erin replied frantically. "My knees will be visibly shaking! I'll hyperventilate and pass out!"
Adrienne put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "We'll all be right behind you. Just remember Aragorn's a nice guy, and being King won't change that. Think of him at my birthday party, or visiting us in the Healing Houses. You weren't freaking out then."
Erin gave her an incredulous look. "He's the King now! And everyone important is here! We'll be laughed out of the City if I mess up."
"Then you had better not mess up," Sarah said, a note of finality in her voice.
Erin sighed with resignation. "So I guess I'm doing it no matter what I say. All right…so what do I say?"
"You're the Lord of the Rings expert!" Kavila retorted. "Come up with some Elvish or something!"
Erin's face lit up. "That's a good idea!" But then she shook her head. "I'll butcher the pronunciation," she said sadly.
"Erin, the only people here who actually speak Elvish are Aragorn, Gandalf, and Legolas," Adrienne said, rolling her eyes. "No one will care!"
"Okay…okay." Erin took a deep breath to calm herself. "Let's see…How about we start off with something like 'We speak for the people of our world, Earth.'"
And so the five friends huddled together and planned out Erin's speech. When they had finished, they looked around them to find that they were halfway through the line. The rest of waiting time Erin spent rehearsing her speech, until she was sure it wasn't humanly possible to forget it.
Finally they came within a few people of the throne. Erin's heart pounded in her ears and her hands were clammy. It felt as though all the blood had left her head, and she knew her hands were shaking horribly; her knees were trembling so much she was somewhat surprised they didn't give out beneath her as she moved forward in the line. Every second seemed to crawl by. Two more people in front of her…and then one more…
The man directly before them, a counselor dressed in rich robes, rose and moved off to the side. It was their turn. Erin moved forward almost without realizing she had done so, her friends a step behind. She glanced up and met the kindly eyes of Aragorn, who must certainly see how nervous she was. Erin was suddenly, painfully aware of the clothes she wore: well-tailored leggings and tunic suitable for the road, but not for an audience with the King. The King won't care, she told herself. He knows you've just come in from the road. Still, she could feel the disapproving glances boring into her back as she forced her shaky knees to bend. She heard the rustle of clothes as her friends followed her actions.
The hum of conversation in the room fell to a whisper. Erin suddenly realized how exposed she was, kneeling in front of her friends here. Everybody was looking at them! With a deep breath and a mental kick, she forced herself to start speaking. For a moment she was certain she had blanked out, but then she remembered the first few words, and the rest followed.
"Greetings, King Elessar. We speak for the people of our world, Earth. We wish you a long and peaceful rule and success in all your ventures. May your line continue to rule in peace and prosperity unto the ending of the world, and may the White Tree of Gondor bloom as long as your descendants sit upon the throne." Erin paused for a moment, debating whether or not to say the last sentence. "Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya (May the Valar aid you on your path under the sky)."
Aragorn's face reflected his surprise, followed by a wry smile. "Well said, Lady Erin. Thank you, and fare you well."
Erin rose and bowed, her friends doing the same behind her. "Fare you well, my lord." And then she turned and walked unsteadily toward an alcove containing one of the white, kingly statues. When she reached the wall she turned and collapsed against it, sighing with profound relief. "Thank God that's over," she said as her friends reached her. "You guys owe me big for that."
"Maybe," said Adrienne. "But right now you need to stop acting like you've just run a race. People are staring."
Erin forced herself into a standing position. "Sorry. I just wasn't sure my legs would hold me for a minute there."
"A wonderful speech, ladies," came a well-known voice behind them. All turned to find Gandalf striding toward them, smiling broadly. "Very well-spoken, Erin. I am afraid that your Elvish requires a bit of tutoring, however. I suggest you speak with Legolas about the matter."
Erin grinned wearily. "A wonderful suggestion—for another time. Right now I want to take a bath and get cleaned up." Her friends nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and Gandalf chuckled. "Follow me," he said, and strode off toward a hall that branched off of the throne room near the back wall.
"Do we each have our own room, Gandalf?" Sarah asked once they had left the throne room behind them.
Gandalf chuckled. "Yes, although you must share washrooms, I'm afraid."
"Oh, that's okay," Adrienne said. "Who's sharing with who?"
"I am not certain," Gandalf replied. "But I believe you and Erin share one, and Sarah and Megan another."
"What about me?" Kavila asked indignantly.
"You will share your washroom with the occupant of the adjacent room," Gandalf replied seriously, but Erin thought she saw his lips twitch slightly as she walked beside him. A few minutes later they reached their rooms, and Gandalf waited in the hall as each girl stepped inside. The rooms were not exactly lavish, but they were certainly well-decorated and served their purpose as living quarters for guests who needed to be impressed.
Sarah was the first to step back out. "Um, Gandalf?" she said. "What are we going to change into? I mean, these clothes may smell bad, but they're all we've got."
Adrienne and Megan poked their heads back out upon hearing Sarah's question. Gandalf chuckled, fingering a bulge in the right pocket of his robes that clanked suspiciously. "Ah, yes, I had nearly forgotten. Aragorn has provided for you," he held up a cloth purse filled with coins. "but I shall accompany you to the tailor so that he can take your measurements."
"The tailor can't make clothes that quickly, though!" Megan exclaimed. "What are we going to wear to the feast tonight?"
"I took the liberty of having your dresses brought up," Gandalf replied. Seeing their puzzled looks, he continued. "The dresses you were given when you first arrived."
Sarah and Adrienne nodded. Megan had already moved to call Kavila and Erin into the hall before they could start on their baths. Then they set off for the tailor, who seemed delighted to see them. Well, Sarah considered when she saw the size of Gandalf's purse, it's not every day he gets this much work to do, or gets paid this well for it. Gandalf waited while they were measured; the tailor was efficient and experienced, and finished his task remarkably quickly.
"Don't you have somewhere else to go, Gandalf?" Adrienne asked at one point.
The wizard chuckled. "Aragorn can manage perfectly well on his own, I think. And all those noblemen," he shook his head, "I don't envy Aragorn at all. It makes one long for a pint of ale and a good smoke in a lively Shire inn!"
When the tailor was finished, Gandalf led the girls back to their rooms. "The tailor will deliver your clothing to you as it is finished. I will leave you now; the day is yours to do with as you will."
"We probably shouldn't start getting ready until later this afternoon," Adrienne said. "We don't want to sit around in our dresses for hours."
"It's getting close to lunchtime," Erin said. "Why don't we get lunch in our rooms, and just sit around in here until three o' clock or so? Then we can get ready in plenty of time."
With that, the girls retreated into their rooms to investigate, and Gandalf set off down the hall. Before he could get far, however, Erin called out to him. He turned, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. She motioned him to come into her room, then closed the door behind him.
"So," she began in a conspiratorial voice, "whose room is next to Kavila's?"
The wizard affected an innocent face. "I haven't the faintest idea."
"You do, and I know you do," Erin replied sternly. "Out with it!"
Gandalf shook his head. "Very well." He leaned close and whispered a name into her ear.
Erin nearly collapsed with laughter. "You old matchmaker!" she gasped, struggling to catch her breath as she shooed him out the door. "I'll never trust you with room assignments again! God only knows what you've got planned for me!"
Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he turned to leave. His reply drifted back to her on a wisp of laughter. "We shall see."
KAVILA wrapped a towel around her damp hair and left the washroom, making her way over to the bed where her dress was laid out. She slipped it on quickly, shivering in the drier, colder air of the bedroom. Once dressed she moved to admire herself in the mirror, adjusting the dress until it hung just right on her body. Then she grabbed the gold brooch off the dresser and tried to decide where to place it. Here? Or maybe here…yes, she finally decided, definitely there. She fastened the brooch securely to her dress, just above her heart.
Her hair should be mostly dry by now, she decided. Now, where was that hairbrush? With a start she realized she had left it in the washroom, having used it to brush her hair before she bathed. She quickly walked to the door into the washroom, which she had closed when she left it, and drew it open.
The sight that met her eyes would be imprinted upon her mind forever.
There, his shirt conspicuously absent, stood Legolas—brushing his hair with her hairbrush! Granted, it wasn't hers; the servants had left one in the room, along with soap and towels. But still! Why is he in my bathroom! Kavila wanted to yell. With no shirt on! As far as Kavila was concerned, that was worse than the hairbrush. She had been raised modestly, and this was just too much. She wished she could sink into the floor for eternity, and she was sure her face was glowing with embarrassment. She wanted to scream at him to put his shirt on, or demand what he was doing in her bathroom. All that came out, however, was a surprised squeak.
Legolas whirled, his eyes widening as he saw Kavila. He swallowed hard once before speaking. "Lady Kavila…pray tell what you are doing here?" His voice sounded slightly higher than usual.
Kavila had to swallow more than once before she could get her vocal cords to work. "I…what am I doing here?" she finally managed. "I…this is my bathroom!"
"Your bathroom?" Legolas's eyebrows rose. "I believe 'tis mine. My room is there." He pointed through the door at the opposite end of the washroom.
Kavila spluttered for several moments. "But…but mine is there!" she pointed at the other door into her room. And suddenly she remembered: "You will share your washroom with the occupant of the adjacent room," Gandalf replied.
"That…that…retarded old git!" Kavila nearly screamed, starting to pace. Then, in a calmer but no less dangerous tone, "I'm going to kill him. I'm so going to kill him. Stupid wizard! 'You'll share your bathroom with whoever's in the next room.'" she imitated. "He knew all along! Stupid, retarded old man!"
Legolas stared at her as though she had sprouted horns until she mentioned the "stupid wizard," at which point he became engrossed with suppressing his laughter. He was not successful; the sound of his quiet chuckling reached Kavila's ear.
She whirled on him, glaring. "Stop laughing and put your shirt on!"
Legolas stopped laughing. "My tunic is in my room," he replied, grinning.
Kavila rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'm done in here anyways." She walked forward, keeping her eyes firmly locked on a point on the wall above his head, until she was close enough to grab the hairbrush from his hand.
"Pardon me, my lady, but may I ask why you are taking my hairbrush?" Legolas asked as she turned to leave.
"Because it's mine!" she retorted.
In answer Legolas walked over to a shelf near the bathtub and retrieved a hairbrush that had been placed on top of it. "I believe this is your hairbrush," he said, handing it to her. "Now would you kindly return mine?"
She snatched her hairbrush from his hand, slapping the other one into his palm as hard as she could. He winced, and she immediately regretted her action. Part of her was surprised she had even managed to hurt him; she was often teased by her friends because she never followed through on her threats of hitting people. "I'm sorry! Are you all right? I didn't mean to hurt you!" she exclaimed.
"It certainly felt as though you did," he chuckled. "Fear not, it merely stings."
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, I am certain," he replied. "And all is well. Are you certain you need nothing further here?"
"Yeah," Kavila answered, suddenly aware of the awkwardness of the moment—and how close she was to the bare-chested Elf. She wanted nothing more than to be gone.
"Very well." Legolas said, stepping back. "I shall see you at the banquet."
Kavila nodded and fled, seething with embarrassment and anger at Gandalf.
ERIN TOOK a deep breath to steady herself amidst the overwhelming mix of strange smells and sounds. All around her people dressed in fine cloths talked and sampled the delectable foods provided by the cooks of Minas Tirith in honor of the return of the King. In the background minstrels played soft music, beautiful flutes and stringed instruments in whose music Erin lost herself more than once during the dinner.
The new King himself sat at the head of the high table, with Faramir, Imrahil, Eomer, and many of the counselors of Gondor, as well as Gandalf and Elrond's sons and Frodo and Sam. At the lower tables sat many lesser officials of the Gondorian government, Erin and her friends, and others such as Legolas and Gimli, between whom Erin had been sandwiched.
In fact, she was currently engaged in a rather one-sided conversation with Gimli, who was regaling her with tales of the crafts of his home. Though Erin had tried several times to steer the discussion toward Dwarven history, about which she admittedly knew very little, Gimli always managed to return to praising the skills of Dwarven craftsmen. Not that Erin particularly minded; Gimli's descriptions were a feast for the imagination, although several times Erin suppressed a laugh at his enthusiasm.
After perhaps a half-hour of this, Legolas leaned around Erin and interrupted Gimli's latest tale. "Surely the Dwarf bores you with his tales of gold and jewels, Lady Erin," he said, as Gimli sputtered with indignation.
"Not really, my lord," Erin replied as she sipped her wine, using the glass to hide her laughter at Gimli's reaction. A servant reached by her briefly to remove her plate, whose contents she had recently finished. She wasn't sure what the proper term for the dessert was, but it had contained a great deal of sweet fruit and had been positively delicious. "I should dearly love to see some of the works he speaks of so effusively."
"Far more lovely than any jewels that Elf might show you," Gimli grumbled, and Erin was unable to repress a laugh.
"I'll have you know, Master Dwarf, that the artisans of Mirkwood far outdo any Dwarf, for they have had millennia in which to hone their craft," Legolas retorted.
"Aye, and millennia they would need to match the skill of the Dwarves," Gimli replied as he finished off a mug of ale.
"Children, children!" Erin laughed in mock reproach, receiving two glares for her efforts.
"I am no child!" Gimli retorted.
"I have lived more than four millennia in this land!" Legolas added.
"So you have," Erin replied judiciously. "and though it shows in your battle skills, you demonstrate the maturity of children when around each other."
Before Legolas or Gimli could reply, Faramir rose and called for silence. "Long have we of Gondor fought against the might of Sauron, and long has the King's throne sat empty. Now both these ills have been rectified. Let us celebrate our good fortune, and hope for peaceful days ahead under this just king, Elessar Telcontar!" And all the guests drank a toast to the new King.
Then Aragorn rose and spoke. "Blessed am I, to rule such a great land, and with this good man to aid me! Many will be the days of peace, though perhaps we must suffer a little more battle and bloodshed to rid the land of the evil of the Orcs. But now let us celebrate, and rejoice that we have survived these dark times and gathered again in these halls!" He turned to the minstrels. "Play us a lively tune! Let the dancing begin!"
Erin grinned and cheered along with everyone else, as the minstrels struck up an energetic melody. She had come to look forward to dances in Middle Earth; there were many more men than women, and thus she never lacked a partner.
Couples began to move onto the dance floor: Faramir and Eowyn, Sarah and Kalva, Adrienne and Imrahil. Aragorn was also there, dancing with a woman Erin didn't recognize. There were several ladies of the court attending, wives and daughters of counselors or military officers.
Erin glanced around her. Legolas had disappeared, doubtless to try and cajole Kavila into a dance; Gimli had wandered down to where the hobbits were singing and dancing. Nearly everyone had risen and now moved about, chatting and observing the dancers.
Suddenly Erin heard a throat being cleared behind her. She turned in her seat to find Eomer, wearing black leggings and a tunic of rich maroon fabric, his strawberry-blond hair falling in waves about his shoulders. Erin's heart sped up significantly as he took her hand and kissed it. "Lady Erin, are you enjoying yourself this eve?"
Erin coughed briefly to recover her voice before speaking. "Yes, my lord Eomer. The music is beautiful, and the food was delicious. I'm sure I ate far too much."
For a moment Erin held her breath, afraid she had been too casual, but Eomer laughed. "Not too much to dance, I hope?" he asked. "It would please me greatly to be the first to claim you for a dance."
"Of course, my lord," Erin managed, rising. Her napkin, which she had spread in her lap during the meal, fell to the floor. Cursing her clumsiness Erin bent to pick it up, but Eomer reached it first. As he placed it on the table Erin straightened, smoothing her dress self-consciously. It was the periwinkle-colored one she had worn when they first arrived. Though Eomer couldn't know that it was her only dress, Erin still suppressed a surge of anxiety as he turned and beheld her entire form for the first time.
Eomer didn't miss a step, offering his arm with a smile. "That dress suits you well, my lady. You outshine all the other ladies here!"
Erin blushed slightly as she modestly looked away. She wasn't used to receiving such compliments! "Thank you, my lord." She noticed they were approaching the dance floor, and a shiver of nervousness passed through her. She had danced a few times at gatherings in Ithilien, but those had been far more casual. "I am afraid I should apologize beforehand for stepping on your toes—I'm quite a klutz."
"Klutz?" Eomer repeated, puzzled. Erin gave herself a mental slap. That's right, point out all your faults right away, she chided herself.
"I'm sorry—it's a term from my world. It means someone who is very clumsy." Erin replied quickly.
Eomer chuckled. "Do not fear. I have been told I am not bad at dancing. You need only follow my lead."
Then they reached the dance floor, and Erin turned all her attention to following Eomer's steps. She found that, as he had said, it was not all that difficult as long as she let him guide her. Soon she was laughing out of sheer delight as they maneuvered between the other whirling couples. One dance became two, and then many. Somehow, Erin didn't mind at all.
MEGAN looked around her for the millionth time that night, wishing vainly for some form of escape. She had been seated near the hobbits Merry and Pippin, who had displayed their usual insatiable curiosity—about Earth. They had pelted her with questions during the entire meal, until she pleaded a few minutes to eat.
She had keenly felt the gazes of those around her, who were also interested in her tales. But she would have given anything to be somewhere else—some of the stares were distinctly unfriendly, and made her even more conscious of the fact that she and her friends did not fit into this world.
No one questioned her tale; the rumors had spread quickly about Megan and her friends. Megan was quite sure the entire city knew of their origins. It was very disconcerting to walk through the streets and feel the stares of so many, and to see them pointing and whispering as you passed. Megan and her friends had received first-hand experience when they entered the city in the King's procession. Erin and Adrienne, seemingly oblivious to it, had been busy pointing out various features of the city to their friends; but Sarah and Kavila had also noticed. Megan suspected that she and her friends would have to deal with the suspicion for a very long time, before they would be accepted by the people of Minas Tirith.
The hobbits finally stopped asking questions when Faramir rose and made his toast. Megan could not have been more grateful to Aragorn when he called for dancing, as Merry and Pippin promptly departed to find Frodo and Sam and start a hobbit-style dance. For several minutes Megan sat in peace, listening to the music and watching the dancers.
Her reverie was interrupted, however, by a voice behind her. "My lady?"
She turned to see a boy of about ten years, dressed in court finery, regarding her with an expression of mixed awe and hopefulness. Probably the son of a counselor or something, she thought, smiling kindly at the boy. "Yes?"
"Might I ask you a question, lady—" he paused.
"Megan," she supplied, hiding a smile. He was a model of civility, a little gentleman. "And what would you ask me?"
A brief flash of anxiety showed in his face, but curiosity won out. "Are you truly…from another world, lady Megan?"
Megan hid her annoyance behind a soft laugh. "Yes, I am. But at least I now know my world and yours are the same in one way: young boys are always curious. What is your name?"
The boy bowed his head slightly in embarrassment at the soft rebuke. "Cenroth, son of Manser, my lady."
"And is your father a counselor of the King, Cenroth?" she asked.
The boy held his head higher. "No, my lady. He is a captain in the army of the City."
"An army man?" Megan said. "Is he well, after all these great battles?"
"He was injured, my lady, but he is glad he survived," Cenroth replied, then paused, as if he wanted to continue speaking.
"Is there something else you would like to ask me?" Megan said, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.
"I had hoped you might share a dance with me, Lady Megan," he replied, his nervousness clear. Megan suppressed a laugh—he was such a cute little boy!
"I would be honored to dance with such a gentleman," she said, grinning as the boy's face lit up. "But I fear you shall have to guide me. Being from another world, I'm afraid I don't know your dances."
"Of course, my lady," Cenroth replied, offering his arm. Megan rose and placed her arm in his. The boy was tall enough that it was not a particularly awkward position. Megan soon discovered that whoever had taught Cenroth to dance had taught him well; she had no trouble at all following his lead, and they both managed not to step on each other's toes too many times. At times they rested, sitting at the tables, and Megan would tell Cenroth stories of Earth. She found that it was actually pleasant to talk with him, probably because he did not constantly pester her with questions, instead listening attentively as she spoke. When Cenroth's parents came to escort him home near the end of the celebration, Megan's assurances that she had spent a wonderful evening with him were quite genuine.
AFTER several lively dances, Sarah and Kalva retreated to one of the stone balconies to rest and cool off. Sarah leaned against the stone-carved railing, letting the wind toss her hair back from her face, tilting her head back as she reveled in the feel of cool air. She took a deep breath, savoring the freshness and cleanness of the air in her lungs after the warm, slightly smoky atmosphere of the ballroom.
Next to her Kalva came and stood, looking down upon the city. Laughter and music drifted up from the celebrations of the common cityfolk, lights winking in and out as people danced about the fires. Sarah turned to watch them as well, noting the longing expression on Kalva's face.
"Sounds like they're having fun," she remarked offhandedly.
"Yes…" Kalva replied absentmindedly, lost in thought. His gaze never wavered from the city below as he continued, "Usually I too would celebrate among them."
Sarah felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry."
Kalva turned to her with an expression of confusion. "What for?"
"If it hadn't been for me and my friends, you would be there. We came in and just…upended your life." Sarah replied, dropping her gaze to where her hands clutched the stone.
She jumped when Kalva draped an arm about her shoulders. "Ah, but you have changed my life for the better." Still, she noted his gaze lingered on the fires of the celebrations below.
Suddenly an idea came to her, and she turned to face Kalva. "Couldn't we…couldn't we just go down there? I mean we've spent some time here, and I doubt Aragorn would take it personally if you wanted to take me to, um, 'meet your family'."
Kalva chuckled. "You are not dressed properly to join the common celebrations. They would think you a sea-spirit."
Sarah turned away to hide her blush; she still wasn't used to receiving such compliments. "I don't look that good," she said softly.
But Kalva ignored her protest. "I have spoken of my sister to you, have I not?" Sarah nodded slowly, confused by the sudden change of subject, and Kalva continued. "I do not think she would take it amiss if you borrowed a dress from her. I believe they will fit; you have similar builds."
Sarah glanced up hopefully. From the sounds below it seemed the common people were having a great deal of fun, far more than she and Kalva were having here. Not that the hobbits weren't hilarious to watch, the minstrels' songs beautiful, or the food delicious, but Sarah had realized within minutes of entering the room that she was way out of her depth. Kalva had been similarly uncomfortable among the rich dress and formal speech of the lords and ladies.
"Come," said Kalva, smiling conspiratorially. "I am sure we can plead weariness after the long journey and today's excitement."
Sarah grinned back at him. "I'm sure," she replied in a completely neutral tone. Kalva took her arm and led her back into the ballroom, maneuvering around the dancers until they reached the door. Sarah caught Kalva's arm suddenly. "Someone ought to know we're gone." she said when he looked at her questioningly.
She caught sight of Gandalf, watching the antics of the hobbits nearby. She went to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Gandalf?"
He turned with a rather inebriated grin and a puff of his pipe. "Lady Sarah! Kalva! Are you enjoying yourselves?"
Sarah coughed and contrived to appear weary. "Yes, but I'm afraid I'm a bit tired. Kalva's going to take me back to my room. Could you tell my friends I'm gone, if they ask?"
"Of course! Good evening to you both!" Gandalf replied, turning back to the hobbits with another puff of smoke.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said as they left the hall, her long blue dress flowing about her ankles. "It's a habit from my world. It doesn't feel right to go somewhere without someone knowing I'm gone."
"Is your world not safer than ours?" Kalva asked her as they walked through the halls of the Citadel.
"No, not really. I mean, we have police who are supposed to monitor everything and help people who are in danger, but they can't be everywhere. There are still lots of kidnappings and shootings and murders," Sarah replied with a sigh. They walked in silence for a time, soft shoes making little noise upon the floor. After many minutes they reached the doors of the palace.
Passing through with a nod to the guards, they stepped into the cool night. "I shall take you by the back ways," Kalva told her. "You will draw much attention otherwise, dressed so finely."
He then proceeded to lead Sarah on a midnight journey through the back streets of Minas Tirith. Sarah felt like an actor in some mystery or detective movie. They ducked behind buildings at the slightest hint of a passerby, took elaborate routes around bonfires, and generally made utter fools of themselves; it was the most fun Sarah had had in a long time.
Finally, after many long minutes of sneaking, Kalva stopped before a small but neatly kept house. The tiny garden was filled with tidy rows of vegetables and flowerbeds. Though the house was dark, Kalva quickly produced a key and let them inside.
For several moments Sarah blinked owlishly at the darkness, listening as Kalva moved around the house. She heard a thump, then another, followed by a curse that Sarah couldn't make out. At last he found and lit a candle, splashing the walls with soft, flickering light. Sarah felt a brief pang as she took in the ordered, inviting, lived-in house. A wave of homesickness crashed over her as she suddenly wished that she could see her own home, filled with her own family's personal touches.
Kalva moved through a door at the back of the room, which Sarah realized was a small sitting room and kitchen. He paused and looked back at her. "My sister's room is down this hall."
Sarah followed quickly, staying within the circle of light that Kalva's candle cast. After passing one door to the left, he disappeared through a doorway to the right. Sarah followed, finding herself in a small, rather plain room that nevertheless unmistakably belonged to a girl. The hair ribbons and comb upon the chest of drawers were testament to that, as was the neatly made bed.
Kalva smiled fondly at the dresser, which had three drawers. "I made that for her," he said, pulling open the bottom drawer. Inside were several dresses of plain cloth, which Sarah knelt down to look through. First was a dress of navy blue with white sleeves and patterning. Beneath it Sarah found a light pink dress, which she quickly moved past. Under no circumstances would she be caught wearing pink.
The next dress caught her attention. It was a deep, slightly reddish brown, with a single white flower patterned upon the breast. Sarah attempted to imagine how it would look on her, but she had never worn brown. Still…why not? she asked herself. Maybe it'll look good.
"I like this one," she said aloud, and Kalva helped her lift it out. He untied a couple of fastenings on Sarah's fancy court dress that she hadn't been able to reach and stood back.
"Umm…could you step outside?" Sarah asked pointedly.
Kalva blushed heavily. "Of course. I shall go change into something more appropriate. I will leave one candle here."
Sarah quickly slipped on the dress, pleased to find that it was much less complicated than the dress she had worn to the court dance. She adjusted it, hoping it looked decent; there was no mirror to see, and she didn't know if she was supposed to wear some petticoats or something underneath it.
She grabbed the candle and stepped into the hall, feeling more like herself than she had all night. The fancy clothing and gourmet meal—not to mention the well-spoken, noble people—had overwhelmed Sarah and left her feeling like the uncivilized, middle-class young woman she was.
The hall was utterly dark except for a small circle of light coming from the last doorway. Sarah moved toward it cautiously, watching her step in the unfamiliar house. A floorboard creaked beneath her feet, and she heard Kalva's voice from the lighted room. "Sarah?"
"I'm coming," she replied, moving more quickly. As she drew closer she heard muffled curses coming from within the room; Sarah hurried forward, calling out to him. "Kalva, are you—"
She peered through the door only to find Kalva standing in the center of the room, struggling to get his shirt on over his splint. The warden of the Healing Houses had allowed him to take off the sling, but required that he wear the splint for awhile more. Trying to ignore the fact that Kalva was shirtless, Sarah moved to aid him. By the time the shirt was safely in place, both she and Kalva were blushing bright red.
"I'm sorry—" Sarah began.
"Thank you—" Kalva started at the same moment. They stared at each other in surprise for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing as the absurdity of the situation hit them. For many minutes the sound of their mirth was the only noise that could be heard in the room, until Kalva straightened and spoke. "The sea-spirit has become a common woman!" he exclaimed in mock astonishment. Sarah blushed and looked at her feet. Kalva touched her chin and gently brought her eyes back to his. "But no less beautiful for the transformation," he added.
Sarah's blush deepened, and she laughed a little to cover her embarrassment. "You look nice, too," she said—and meant it. Instead of the dark green shirt he had worn to the court dance, Kalva wore a deep blue tunic of rougher fabric. It didn't detract from his looks at all, Sarah thought.
Kalva bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment, then offered her his good arm. "Come," he said. "I think that we are at last ready to join the celebrations."
Sarah couldn't help a grin. "Let's go!" she agreed.
KAVILA experienced a bolt of pure trepidation when Aragorn announced the end of dinner. That meant dancing, and dancing meant Legolas, something she could certainly have done without tonight. The evening had been pleasant enough thus far, but she was sure it would go downhill from here.
Right on cue, a musical voice enquired from her right elbow, "Lady Kavila, you seem unhappy. Are you well?"
Kavila turned to him, forcing a smile. "I'm fine." I was fine, she ranted mentally. Then you had to come along and ruin the evening. She would never say such a thing aloud, however; the courtesy that had been ingrained in her since infancy would not allow it.
"Then may I have the honor of a dance?" Legolas persisted.
Kavila was severely tempted to decline, but once again that would have been supremely rude. "Um…sure…" she said, laughing nervously.
Legolas wasn't deterred at all by the less-than-enthusiastic answer. He just smiled one of his gentle, understanding smiles that made her heart leap and offered his arm. In moments they had joined the whirling dancers, and Kavila turned her attention to the music and the steps, trying not to think about whom she was dancing with. She had nearly managed to lose herself in the lively tune when Legolas leaned close and broke her concentration, speaking softly. "Look," he nodded to her left, "I do believe Lady Erin is enjoying herself."
Kavila glanced over and found herself laughing. Erin was dancing with…Eomer, was it, literally beaming at him. Not that he wasn't looking at her the same way—that was what made it so hilarious. And, of course, the knowledge that Kavila could tease Erin mercilessly about it tomorrow.
Suddenly the tune changed and the pace of the dance quickened significantly. Kavila once again turned her concentration to her own feet, looking everywhere but at Legolas. She found that rather difficult, actually; he was staring at her, and there was a part of her that wanted very much to return his gaze and fall into those beautiful blue eyes…No! No, Kavi, you retarded git! His eyes are not beautiful!
Then the fast dance ended, replaced by a much slower, softer tune. Kavila saw the couples around her move closer as the pace slowed, and her heartbeat sped up measurably. She did not want to end up in that position with Legolas! She had to find a way to get off this dance floor! Suddenly an idea came to her, and she sagged a little in his arms.
"Kavila? Are you well?" he asked in a concerned tone.
"Yes…I'm just tired," she said, injecting weariness into her voice. "Could we rest for a song or two?"
"Of course!" Legolas answered, supporting her as he led her to a seat. She sank into it gratefully. She really wasn't tired at all; she had danced far longer and more intensely than this at Hindi dances. In fact, most of the people here probably wouldn't last more than a few minutes at a full-blown garba dance. She tried to imagine them—Aragorn, the hobbits, all the lords and ladies, even Legolas—doing garba, and couldn't help laughing out loud.
"Pray tell, Lady Kavila, what do you find so amusing?" Legolas asked her.
Kavila turned to look at him and burst out laughing again as an image of Legolas in Indian clothes attempting to dance garba appeared in her mind. "I…I'm sorry…" she gasped out finally. "I was just…imagining all the people here doing garba…" She started to chuckle again.
Legolas smiled tolerantly. "What is garba?"
Kavila finally managed to control herself. "It's a type of dancing that my people do…we use sticks, and hit them together as we dance…" she sighed. "It's hard to explain in words."
"Then perhaps you might teach me," Legolas replied, smiling. At that moment two more familiar faces appeared in the crowd: Aragorn and Faramir. Aragorn caught sight of Kavila and Legolas and smiled a greeting, directing Faramir towards them. As they drew closer Aragorn leaned close to Faramir and said something into the Steward's ear; Faramir chuckled and nodded.
Beside her Legolas rose, and Kavila hurried to follow him. He bowed deeply to them, and Kavila curtsied neatly. "Are you enjoying yourselves?" Aragorn asked good-naturedly.
"Good food, good wine, and a quick dancing partner? But of course, my lord!" Legolas replied. Kavila averted her eyes for a few moments as her cheeks heated.
"And you, my lady?" Aragorn asked her.
Kavila hesitated before answering. "As Legolas said, the food and drink are very enjoyable."
"And your dancing partner?" Faramir enquired teasingly.
Kavila smirked, seeing an opportunity to get Legolas back. "I've had better."
Aragorn laughed aloud, seeing the hurt expression on Legolas's face. "And who have you danced with who is more graceful than our Elven prince?"
Kavila considered. "Well, I danced with Gimli at the last gathering in Ithilien, and he wasn't too bad."
Legolas spluttered as Aragorn and Faramir burst into full-throated guffaws.
"A wonderful jest," Faramir exclaimed when he had caught his breath. "If you have danced with so many, you must be in high demand as a dancing partner! Would you grace me with a dance, Lady Kavila?"
Kavila leaped at the chance to get away from Legolas. "How could I decline?" she answered, rising with a smile. Within moments they had disappeared into the crowd.
Aragorn regarded his somewhat dejected friend with a soft smile. "You must be careful, my friend. Like a timid little bird, you will frighten her away."
Legolas sighed. "I know, Aragorn. 'Tis difficult."
Aragorn placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder sympathetically. "Perhaps you should dance with Eowyn. She is quite nimble." When Legolas looked up to protest, Aragorn continued. "Do not sit here and sulk all night, my friend! 'Tis a joyous occasion!" He lowered his voice again. "If you watch Kavila constantly and refuse all other dance partners, you may frighten her away."
"I suppose," Legolas replied. "I shall take some wine, and then I shall find Eowyn."
Aragorn smiled. "Patience, my friend. You have never displayed a lack of it."
"Ah," said Legolas. "But never has my patience been so tried."
ADRIENNE surveyed the dancers with a content smile, sipping a glass of water. She had drunk wine at dinner, out of courtesy to tradition, but didn't want to risk becoming truly inebriated. For now she merely sat and drank her water, soothing her throat, which had become dry with all the laughter and talking she had done this evening.
Not that that was all she had done; she had danced quite a bit as well with various partners: Aragorn, Faramir, a couple of courtiers, even Gandalf.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Adrienne?" The title was spoken in a teasing tone. Adrienne turned, smiling, to face Dregor. The hardened ranger looked somewhat out of place in the rich garb of a courtier, a navy tunic and black leggings transforming him into the stereotypical tall, dark, handsome ranger. She was taken aback for a moment, used to seeing him in somewhat worn and dirty clothing appropriate for sword practice.
"I am indeed," Adrienne replied after a moment with a perfect curtsey. "But what, exactly, were you implying by that tone of voice, hm? Should I perhaps take offense?"
"'Twould grieve me much if you took offense by me, fair lady," Dregor said, but his twinkling gaze belied his careful words. "I merely meant that you seem about as used to all this finery and extravagance as a fish to land. Forgive me, but I had become used to the spirited swordswoman I have trained for the past several weeks; I find myself chuckling at this dainty, graceful wraith which has taken her place."
"Are you saying that I can't pull off the whole 'upperclass lady' act?" Adrienne asked indignantly. "I thought I was doing quite well."
Dregor laughed. "Oh, you are doing quite well, to the eyes of one who knows you not. But I know that beneath that fine dress is a heart which yearns for the sword and the saddle."
Adrienne sighed, all joy gone from her face. "Yes, and therein lies the problem." She turned eyes dark with disquiet to Dregor. "There's no place for me here in Middle Earth. I'm not a proper, well-mannered woman whose only desire is to marry and have children."
Dregor's expression softened, his weathered face crinkling into a soft smile. "Among the Rangers, we often teach women the sword and bow. It is a land filled with danger, and we cannot always protect our wives and daughters."
"Do you…are you married?" Adrienne asked hesitantly.
Dregor's lips twitched in a sad smile. "Nay. I have not yet found a wife."
"Oh." Adrienne didn't know what to say. For several moments she and Dregor stood in silence.
"Ah, look what I have done!" Dregor exclaimed finally. "I have ruined a perfectly merry evening with such sober discussions. Come, let us dance."
Adrienne felt suddenly, inexplicably weary. "No, I don't think so…I'm quite tired."
Dregor nodded amiably. "Then let me escort you to your room."
Adrienne raised an eyebrow indignantly. "I don't need an escort."
"Perhaps not," Dregor chuckled. "May I walk with you, then?"
Adrienne nodded once. "You're learning."
"Learning what?" Dregor asked, somewhat perplexed.
"How to handle us foreign women. We're too independent for your society." Adrienne declared half in jest. Dregor just laughed.
Suddenly both were surprised to hear an answering laugh, far too high and giddy for the person it belonged to. Adrienne turned to see Kavila, leaning heavily on Legolas's arm, laughing with utter abandon at something he had said. Legolas gazed down on her fondly, looking up when he felt eyes on him.
Adrienne was instantly at Kavila's side. "I'm thirsty!" the girl declared loudly as Adrienne took her other hand. Adrienne could see that Kavila was, yes, most definitely drunk. The absurdity of that idea occurred to her suddenly, and she found herself chuckling. Kavila, drunk? She would never have imagined it could happen!
Then Legolas offered Kavila a glass of something, in response to her earlier complaint. Adrienne caught a glimpse inside the silver glass, and realized at least in part what had happened. As far as she knew, water was not red.
"You're giving her wine?" Adrienne exclaimed angrily to Legolas. The Elven prince looked somewhat abashed.
"I merely brought her one glass. I did not realize it would have such effect upon her," he replied defensively.
"Didn't realize!" Adrienne turned and remarked disgustedly to Dregor, who walked beside her, attempting to stifle his own laughter. "Legolas, this is probably the first time in her life she's had anything alcoholic to drink! She had a glass at dinner, and then she had this one…of course she's going to get drunk!"
But the rebuke Adrienne was attempting to give Legolas was postponed when Kavila caught sight of Gandalf. "Gandalf, I have to talk to you!" she slurred. He turned, none too steady himself.
"Ah, Lady Kavila! It seems you are enjoying yourself!" he laughed as Adrienne glared. Far too much, she fumed mentally.
Kavila shook off Legolas and Adrienne's hands and walked forward alone, an irritated expression on her face. "I'm very mad at you!" she declared when she was within touching range of the wizard. She jabbed her forefinger at him to emphasize her point. "Very mad!"
"Why would that be?" Gandalf answered, but the twinkle in his eye showed that he wasn't too far gone to realize why Kavila was angry with him.
"You…you put me in a room!" she said loudly. Gandalf just stared at her, smiling broadly but managing not to laugh. Adrienne had to admit Kavila made quite an amusing picture, even if she didn't approve. "With him!" Kavila finished, turning the jabbing forefinger on Legolas. She then proceeded to beam triumphantly at Gandalf, as if she had accomplished some monumental task. Which, considering her state, she might have, Adrienne reflected.
"Yes, I did," Gandalf replied. Either he liked living dangerously, or he was too drunk to realize the reaction such an answer was sure to provoke. "I trust you approve?"
"You…you knew! I knew you knew!" Kavila exclaimed. "You stupid old man! You retarded git! You…you…chuutya!" Adrienne decided this would be a good time to drag Kavila away. She knew about what had happened earlier in the afternoon between Kavila and Legolas, and figured a rational Kavila really wouldn't want the entire court to share in that knowledge. She also figured Gandalf's next questions would reveal at least part of the incident; either that, or Kavila would blurt it out sometime soon here. Not a good situation either way.
Adrienne threw a glance at Legolas and started forward. The wizard was literally shaking with the effort of holding in his laughter. Still yelling strange Hindi words, Kavila let herself be led away and calmed down. "Kavila, Kavila, shh…be quiet, it'll be alright, shh…" Adrienne soothed in the dimly lighted hallway. She was somewhat astonished when Kavila's nearly hysterical anger transformed into wracking sobs. "I hate Legolas," she cried. Cradling Kavila against the wall, Adrienne saw Legolas close his eyes briefly in obvious sadness. When he reopened them, Adrienne mouthed "She's drunk," and Legolas nodded. "Well, I mean, I don't hate him…I don't like him though," Kavila continued.
"No, you don't hate him," Adrienne attempted to pacify her.
"Yes, I do," Kavila replied stubbornly. "He wouldn't put his shirt on."
Behind Kavila, Legolas's shoulders shook in silent chuckles. Adrienne threw him a warning glare before turning her attention back to Kavila. "Come on, I'll get you home, and you can go to sleep in your nice, warm bed…" Adrienne put emphasis on the "I'll" and Legolas, nodding his understanding, fell into step several feet behind them. Adrienne would have been far happier if he had just gone away, but she didn't want to say anything for fear of inciting another of Kavila's outbursts.
To Adrienne's initial consternation, Kavila suddenly broke down for the second time that night. "I wanna go home…" she slurred, sobbing brokenly against Adrienne's shoulder as Adrienne led her slowly down the hallway. "I miss Kitu, and Aki, and Mommy and Daddy, and Sangeetha, hiccup and Mary, and Jennifer, and hiccup Amy, and all my friends, and my hiccup teachers, and everybody at school, and all the people who come to Mommy and hiccup Daddy's parties, and—" She didn't get any farther, because at that moment she fell inelegantly into a deep slumber. Adrienne barely caught Kavila as she went completely limp.
In moments Legolas was at her side. "May I carry her?" he asked.
Adrienne looked at him critically. "I'm not sure I trust you."
Legolas seemed slightly offended. "I assure you, Lady Adrienne, I shall take excellent care of her."
Adrienne regarded him silently for a few more seconds, then looked up and down the hall to figure out where they were. Adrienne's room was only a few doors down, while Kavila's was several doors further. Still, it wasn't that far…
"How much have you drunk?" she asked the Elf suspiciously.
"I assure you, I am quite sober," he replied haughtily. "I have only had two glasses, and it requires more than two glasses of wine to—"
"To get you tipsy," Adrienne finished for him. "Yes, yes, fine, take her. Just be gentle with her."
"But of course," Legolas said, gathering Kavila's limp form into his arms. "I shall see you tomorrow, my lady, my lord." He bowed slightly to Adrienne and Dregor. Adrienne noticed with a silent chuckle as he turned away that Kavila was, yes, actually snuggling up against his chest.
When he had gone, Dregor turned to Adrienne. "What was that about a shirt?" he asked, eyes twinkling mischievously.
Adrienne rolled her eyes. "Forget you ever heard that," she said. "Kavila would kill me if I told you." Dregor continued to look petulant. "Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow," Adrienne said. "Just let me get to sleep tonight—I'm too tired to do anything except collapse on a bed."
"Very well," said Dregor, smiling. "Oh, I had meant to speak with you…"
"About what?" Adrienne asked, curious despite her fatigue.
"You mentioned that you took sword lessons at one of the armories?" he asked, and she nodded. "Vilad's armory, on the fifth level."
"If you wish, I shall meet you there after lunch—one hour past noon?" he said, and Adrienne nodded gleefully. "Definitely. See you there!"
"Farewell, and good dreams," Dregor said, and Adrienne returned the farewell before disappearing into her room, certain that she would indeed have good dreams after the lively evening.