Written by Serenoli
Hurgon Fernik, the Court painter, in a haze of drunkenness, suddenly realized there was something wrong with his room. A lot of people held the opinion that the whole room was somehow wrong- untidy, full of weird musical instruments, bottles of a very fine Southern wine that even the king wished he had, and paint all over. There were unfinished portraits on the walls... a large one of a frog was, in particular, outstanding. Little glass bottles of paint adorned a shelf, together with brushes, canvas and ink. Unfortunately for him, he had not been given a large enough table to hold all this, and had therefore dumped most of it on his bed. The bedcovers had been pulled out and a new bed was constructed on the floor every night. The one time Gimilbeth had ventured out to see him, she had been so horrified at the state of his room, she had blanched and run off without even telling him what she wanted. Hurgon didn't mind, however... he felt his room gave him individuality.
However, right now, there was a large purple envelope lying on his bed, directly over an unfinished portrait of the princess Tarniel. It was too neat, and too out-of-place, and so he lumbered over to it, and pulled it open. In white letters, the words floated before him:
"Fernik, You are to have the painting completed in the next month. -Tarnendur."
It was a very informal reminder that the king had sent, but he had long ago realized that Hurgon had a bad memory, and that he tended to get confused by too many long words. As it is, the letter reminded Hurgon so effectually of what the king had said to him about this subject that very morning, he was momentarily knocked sober.
Collecting his wits about him (there were very few, mind, so it took little effort), he began hurriedly collecting paint, brushes and the portrait itself, and ran full-length up and down sundry stairs, down halls and corridors, till he reached a door that seemed likely. Panting, he knocked, and the door slowly creaked open. Princess Tarniel and Princess Odaragariel stared up at him, both looking rather pink.
Then the latter sat up, and said, "Well, Hurgon, what do you want?"
"Just, just thought I should, you know," he said while he thought about it. He remembered the king said something about 'not divulging it yet'- but how was he supposed to paint, unless he told the princesses he was going to do it? Should he hide in bushes and paint her in covert? Wouldn't work. There was nothing for it, but to divulge it, say what Tarnendur would about it. "I was thinking of finishing the painting."
The two girls raised eyebrows at each other in a meaningful glance that clearly said, "So soon?" However they made no objections, and soon Hurgon was happily absorbed in his second-most favorite occupation in the world - painting.
Cameth Brin, October 10, 1347.
Written by Gordis, Elfhild and Serenoli
"My lady, master Hurgon is not in his room," Edelbar, the golden-haired Page, announced gravely, bowing before Gimilbeth. Then he smiled, a soft mischievous smile that made him look exactly his twelve years again.
"His room is a horrible mess, my lady. A regular orc den it is. I didn't venture inside, lest I would get paint stains all over me. A servant said Hurgon had taken a canvas and paints and went to the Princesses' wing".
Gimilbeth smiled. So, at last things got going. This morning, she was most displeased to learn from her father that he had asked Hurgon to finish the portrait next month. No, it would be far too late! She had no wish to travel to Amon Sul in winter. The portrait had to be finished by the end of Narbeleth by the latest! She said so to the King in no uncertain terms, and he cowed as usual and advised her to speak with Hurgon herself. Now was as good a time as any. She much preferred to go visit the neat Tarniel's room than the extravagant painter's lair. Gimilbeth rose and left her study, nodding to Edelbar to follow.
The guards in the Hall parted, bowing, to let her pass. With a corner of her eye Gimilbeth noticed, chuckling inwardly, that some of them were making a sign behind their backs to ward off evil.
In a minute Gimilbeth stood in front of Tarniel's door. A muffled sound of voices and occasional giggles were coming from inside. Edelbar knocked, bowed low to the ladies, sweeping the floor with his feathered hat, and announced in a clear cultured voice, fit for a much loftier court
"My Ladies, Master Hurgon, greetings. My Lady Gimilbeth is here to see you ."
There was an exclamation from inside, sounding much like a panicked mouse's squeak. Gimilbeth took it as an invitation and entered.
There were two girls curtseying before her, dark-haired Tarniel and fair-haired Odaragariel. Both looked tense and not a little frightened. Hurgon stood in front of the unfinished portrait. He made an attempt to bow, but swayed drunkenly and almost lost his balance. Gimilbeth smelled a reek of liquor in the air - Hurgon was drunk as usual. Instead of bowing, Hurgon waved with his brush and settled for a bright smile, showing yellow uneven teeth.
Gimilbeth nodded regally in greeting to the assembled company and made herself comfortable in a high-backed chair by the table, neatly arranging the folds of her blue richly embroidered gown around her. She noticed how the girls exchanged glances and resumed their seats, trying to hold their backs straight and their faces blank.
Gimilbeth eyed the princesses in silence for some time, assessing them with her cold eyes. They have grown indeed, and she hadn't noticed it before. Tarniel was becoming quite fair to look upon. If only she were not such a weak spiritless creature... As for Odaragariel, she was simply and utterly plain, and no fine dresses or priceless jewels could remedy to the fact. But that one had wit, at least, and a strong personality. All this would be wasted on this bore Daurendil...
Tarniel gulped and struggled for words, her duties as a hostess suddenly dawning on her. Her cheeks turned pink in embarrassment and she turned to Odaragariel for reassurance.
"The silly wench doesn't even know how lovely she looks", thought Gimilbeth with a wave of hate washing over her. The baby-sister that the King had foisted upon her needed no makeup to appear radiant, she could stay up all night long and remain lovely, she could weep and remain desirable...much as she was able herself at fifteen.
"Wait till you are hundred, my puppy," thought Gimilbeth venomously. "Faithful as you are, you will be all gray and wrinkled at my age. And then you will die and go to a cold grave and worms will eat your flesh. That is the way of life."
---
Thanks to a reassuring nod from Odaragariel, Tarniel regained her wits, took a deep breath, and looked to her half-sister, the evil witch and shame of the royal family. She managed a polite smile, though she both resented and feared Gimilbeth's presence.
"Good morning, Gimilbeth. As you can see, Master Hurgon came to finish my portrait. What brings you to my chamber?"
Whatever it was, Tarniel hoped that the witch would leave quickly. She should not allow her half-sister to intimidate her so much! But given the woman's dreadful reputation, bizarre habits and strange personality, who could help but shudder involuntarily at a visit from her? Tarniel was not alone in her uneasiness. She wondered what Gimilbeth's true purpose in being here was, but guessed she would learn soon enough.
Gimilbeth did not reply at once. She seemed intent on taking her own time and manner in explaining her unexpected visit.
Odaragariel, realising that Tarniel was getting redder every second, now with indignation at not being answered, and that Hurgon was disintegrating on the spot under Gimilbeth's beady stare, said, a little sharply, "Fair morning, lady Gimilbeth. I hope you have no special news to communicate with Tarniel... for if you do, I shall, of course, be glad to leave you in private." Saying which, she stood up, and made a courteous half-bow.
Tarniel looked alarmed at the prospect of being left alone with the sister she regarded with a mixture of fear and revulsion; but at least Gimilbeth was forced to reply now.
"Oh, no, you may stay." she replied. Odaragariel looked at her quizzically, and then sat down. "My business is not with her; though of course, I always love to drop in to see my lovely sister."
This last was said in so insincere a tone, that Odare, at least, was certain Gimilbeth was about to make herself unpleasant. Steeling herself, she asked, "Do you, then, wish to discuss something with me?"
"I'm afraid not. There is someone else in this room, is there not?"
Hurgon, who had been trying to blend into the wall, was thus, suddenly thrown into focus. All the eyes riveted to the poor terrified painter. Hurgon gave a weak pathetic smile, and swayed on his feet again.
Gimilbeth could never tell why her mere presence made most people feel uneasy. The widespread rumors of her supernatural powers were hardly to blame, as she had the same effect on people even back in her youth, much like her grandmother Serinde did. Perhaps this spiritual kinship made the old Umbarian lady love her granddaughter so much, although she despised her father Tarnendur. Gimilbeth loved her grandmother in return, much more than she ever loved her parents, and she felt bereft at the news of Serinde's death at a respectable age of 215 which came a year ago.
"Master Hurgon," Gimilbeth said sweetly, never taking her eyes off the painter's shaking form, "it is about the portrait you are painting. It has to be completed by the end of this month at the latest, but I will be MOST grateful, if you finish it even earlier."
At that the painter bristled. He always took his painting very much to heart.
"But... Lady Gimilbeth... there is no way to finish this portrait in three weeks! It is a work of art, not some tavern sign painted anyhow in mere hours! I have to render faithfully the lady Tarniel's likeness, and try to capture some of her sweet character as well..."
He would have rumbled on and on, but Gimilbeth stopped him raising her hand slightly.
"Pray let me finish, Master Hurgon," she said, sterner now. "Nobody cares about the likeness. Make the young lady on the portrait beautiful and noble and sweet and richly dressed. That is all that is required. If Tarniel's betrothed is disappointed later, upon seeing her in person, it is his problem." Gimilbeth turned her head to look at Tarniel and smiled a cold wintry smile.
Tarniel's cheeks turned even redder. "Were you speaking of betrothal, Gimilbeth? I have not been told about it..."
Gimilbeth's brows arched slightly and her eyes narrowed. "I suppose your mother has not yet steeled herself sufficiently to break the news gently to you. I will not interfere with her errand. Suffice to say, Tarniel, that your hand is the State property, so you have to abide by the King's decision concerning your future marriage."
Looking into Tarniel's shocked face, Gimilbeth smiled sweetly and thought. "Indeed her hand is a trump card in the difficult game I am playing. I know not whom I may see fit to propose her: perhaps to this Beleg, or to his younger brother, or to the sons of Eldacar of Gondor, or to the sons of his rival Castamir, or, maybe, to this mysterious King of Angmar, who may be willing to accept the royal bride as weregild for his dead hound Broggha. I shall see how the cards are dealt."
Gimilbeth rose and walked slowly towards the door. Edelbar rushed forward to open it for her. At the door, she turned and repeated "The portrait must be ready by the end of the month, Master Hurgon. Pray do not forget. If you finish in time you will get a case of the finest Lebennin wine. If you don't... " She left the last sentence hanging in the air ominously.
"Farewell, ladies." Gimilbeth nodded her head in parting. Not waiting for the princesses to finish their farewells she left the room. The princesses strained their ears trying to catch the sound of her retreating footsteps, but heard nothing. Only the big striped cat, which had followed Gimilbeth into the room and decided to stay on, seemed to be hearing a noise for some time. Then it relaxed, jumped onto the sofa, curled there and started licking its thick glossy fur, purring softly.
When Tarniel was certain that Gimilbeth was not lurking about, she shuddered and cried, "Oh, what a horrid woman! The audacity of her, to barge in here merely to taunt me!"
Though Tarniel had already known beforehand that she was to be betrothed, for Odaragariel had informed her earlier that morning of the confidence which Tarniel's brother had shared with her, she highly resented Gimilbeth's lording her fate over her. Perhaps it was for the best that she had prior knowledge, for to be informed of her future by Gimilbeth was like being cursed by a witch.
So that was the meaning of the portrait √ an advertisement for her future husband. At least Hurgon wanted to do her appearance honor, whereas Gimilbeth wanted it painted any old way, just so the end result resembled a young woman. It certainly sounded like her dear half-sister wanted to be rid of her as quickly as possible. Did she see her as a threat, or as a pawn?
Glancing to the cat, Tarniel narrowed her eyes. Why did Gimilbeth have to leave behind her wretched animal? She looked to Odaragariel, who was red-faced with anger, and Hurgon Fernik, who was attempting to calm down from the unpleasant encounter with the Witch of Cameth Brin.