Farielle spent most of the day after Yildirim had come for his cloak thinking. She laid out her thoughts as clearly as she could, as if she was composing a report for her tutor when she was younger.
"I don't want to marry this Lord Alphros. But then, I don't really want to marry anyone, yet. And I know nothing of him save that he plays a harp. And doesn't like to see his prospective brides chained up." Her mouth twists. "But I really don't want to be a slave, or - or sold and forced to go to any man who wants me. And I don't want to be sacrificed."
"It is quite likely that I wouldn't know anything more of any man my father chose for me - though I would know that Father had chosen him and thought him honorable. If Lord Alphros' lineage, what his sister claims for him, is true... " She shook her head and sighed. At least it would be better than a man of the Haradrim; perhaps she wouldn't be disgracing her blood by bearing him children.
"What I really want," she told herself, looking out the window, but not seeing the gardens below nor the sky above, "is to be able to choose for myself. I don't want to marry him only because I am too afraid of what might come if I do not. And I do NOT want to act like a slave. I am a Girithlin." She lifted her chin and set her jaw. "I must make a plan."
"If I choose to marry him - if he is a man of honor and kindness - then I will do so. And if I choose not to, I must make certain those other things cannot happen ...
There is a quiet knock upon the door.
Farielle turns, frowning still in thought, and stares at the door. After a moment, she comes to it, pulling it farther open.
Long golden rays of sunlight slant through the single narrow window, turning Farielle into a black shape silhouetted by fiery turquoise.
Nisrin, who has been leaning about the doorjamb trying to peek in, steps back, her hands flying to her face in surprise. "Oh," she gasps, looking Farielle up and down approvingly, "that is such a nice dress!"
The frown fades into a smile - which also fades a little as Farielle glances down at herself, but returns when she looks back at the other girl. "Yes," she says. "It is much better than those other colors that woman wanted." The Gondorian hesitates, then steps back. "Come in. I - Nisrin, can you help me?" The guard waits for Nisrin to enter, then comes in behind her.
"Do you need more pen and paper?" asks Nisrin, stepping in lightly with a cautious glance towards the following guard.
"No..." Farielle hesitates again. "I am going to tell Lady Eruphel I want to go out," she says. There is a new determination to her manner; if the fear she has lived with the past weeks is still there, she has shoved it down somewhere it can't be seen. "I wish to buy some things. But I have no money... I will repay you," she says anxiously. "As soon as I can."
If discomfort flits over Nisrin's face at the mention of the newly-expecting Lady Seaward, she doesn't speak of it. Finally she stoops to the table and sets down a little bag of silver coins. "Umbar is not friendly to those who do not know it," she says. "Are you sure I cannot bring it for you instead?" And within that question, a note of mistrust: what if Farielle tries to run?
"You could come with me?" Farielle says, a little shyly. What if the other girl doesn't want to be seen in her company? Her eyes follow the little bag. "Thank you. I hope it is all right; I didn't know who else to ask."
"If ... if it is not too much of a hassle, I would," says Nisrin, brightening momentarily. "Do you think Lady Eruphel will say yes?"
"I would like it if you came. I don't know where to go to find things." The smile on her face grows a little, to slip into a frown as she crosses her arms. "She'd better," she mutters, then shrugs. "If not, I will tell you what I want and ask if you will go and find it for me."
"I hope she is still in a good mood," says the Haradrim girl, nibbling on her fingernail with a preoccupied manner. "Did you hear the news? She is going to have a child, at last!"
"No," Farielle replies, surprised. "But.. surely she would be in a good mood if that is so?" She looks at Nisrin closely. "You are ... happy for her?" she asks tentatively, her eyes lifting briefly to the listening guard.
"Very much so," Nisrin smiles blandly at the guard. "Now Seaward - and Hashikh - will have an heir!"
Farielle looks as if she isn't quite convinced by Nisrin's protestations of gladness, but she lets her smile grow broader. "And a nephew, or niece for you!" she says, with an almost too-hearty enthusiasm. There is a slight question in her eyes still; here is something she doesn't understand quite, but she can't ask about now.
"Indeed," says Nisrin with a faded smile. "In any case, here is the silver, and you can pay me back when you are able. Do tell me if I can come!"
"You can come," Farielle says, firmly. "I have asked you, and no one else has anything to say about it." She glares over Nisrin's shoulder at the guard, who looks a little confused maybe at this aspect of his charge. She certainly hasn't shown any such decision or forcefulness up to now. But he shrugs. It is no matter to him.
Nisrin merely smiles and says, "Yes, Lady Farielle. I will wait for your word, then." And she heads for the door.
That was done. Farielle smiled to herself. Now for the next part. She left her room, and went downstairs - and once more went towards the great doors that led out into the Tower grounds. She walked towards them as if she had every right to go out - though inside, her stomach was singing with tension, like one of her brother's lyre strings strung too tight.
She put her hand to the door, pushed it open, walked outside ... and no one stopped her. Once there, she stopped a moment, to look around. From her room, she had been able to see a wild growth of plants. It was only a hope, but Eloissel had told her once of various poisonous plants, and Farielle remembered one that grew in the dry heat of the south. This place, she thought drily, was full of just the sort of people who would like to plant poisonous flowers...
Its weird how its almost November, and the outdoors are still temperate, sometimes even warm. The gardens are never so pleasant as Fall, as the late-blooming flowers are just getting into high gear, while the summer flowers still linger in the delayed warmth for as long as possible. Lady Eruphel also lingers in the garden, as colorful as one of the flowers, with a rosy bloom on her cheek. She holds in her hand a colorful snake with green and purple markings.
'Even warm'. Farielle has been suffocatingly hot most of the time, and now it has finally cooled down to something bearable. With the ever-present guard - actually of some use now, to point out various things in the gardens and keep her out of snakepits and the like - she wanders along one of the paths, stopping now and then to look at a flower or peer after a flutter of bright feathers. Around a corner - the girl stops abruptly on seeing Eruphel, then with an air of determination, comes towards her. "Lady," she says, hesitates, and finishes politely, "May I offer you congratulations?"
Eruphel looks up, and seeing the Gondorian woman, smiles. "Farielle...thank you. Come and sit with me. The garden is full of wonders." she says to her captive like one might to a long-time friend." She moves over on the bench to make room. "You are looking much more...healthy." she comments.
Farielle perches on the edge of the bench. "It is cooler," she replies. "I do not like the heat." Her voice is nothing but mildly polite, but there is a curious determination in her eyes that has not been there before. If Eruphel has noticed, what little she has seen of her. "It is a beautiful garden," Farielle adds, and with a breath, "Lady. I wish to go into the town."
Eruphel considers her for a long moment, then says, "Go and fetch the guard in charge of your detail, and return with him."
Farielle nods, and rises, going back the way she had come. When she returns, someone else is talking to the Lady of the Tower. Farielle comes to a stop beside the bench and waits, looking at Eruphel.
The guard, Khaan it is, stands at attention next to the Gondorian, saluting the Seaward lady once and then waiting to be addressed.
"Understood, Lady," nods Lojrul, even as the others return. "I shall see what providence the Steward's direction has saved up for this use. When you speak with him, I am sure he will be gladdened, and defeat this illness swiftly."
He turns then, nodding to Farielle and Khaan in turn; the former given a momentary appraisal ere his eye travels on.
"And now, if you need me no longer, I shall see to my business. It has been a pleasure, as always, to visit your gardens."
"Stay if you wish, Lojrul, but it was good to see you." Eruphel answers the man of Desert Tower. "I shall visit your Steward soon. I hope he survives until then. Give him a word of hope from me." Glancing to the side now as Farielle returns with Khaan, she inclines her head, though to which is dodgy. "Ah, good. He must have been hard to find." The Lady smiles, then looks at Khaan. "Guard, this woman wishes to be unleashed upon the city. In your opinion, will the city withstand such a force?"
The girl lifts her chin a little at Lojrul's look, and something glints in her eyes as she stares back at him. Then her gaze moves to Khaan, and the glint remains. It isn't quite anger, it is more than determination - almost as if she is daring him to say no.
"You wish to let this...woman.." Khaan eyes Farielle dubiously, "roam the streets? The city may withstand her, though she will make a pretty target."
"The city may well have a thing or two to say about her, too," warns Lojrul then, in the tougue of the Haradwaith. "That is, if your fine Corsair Bahazaid is anything to judge by. I fear more bad feeling than has been known to you roams the city in response to this pale girl's presence. I would have a care to guard her well, if you must let her loose to face them ere you have had a chance to sway their minds toward tolerance."
A final bow of his head then, and Lojrul steals another glance to Khaan, as if surveying the man's bearing shrewdly. "Sun's blessing upon your day," he adds, before turning to walk out along the path.
"Within the tower? Who is to say. Outwardly all are loyal to you, but a knife hidden within the folds of clothing is easy to accomplish, and hatred runs high for the Stonelanders," Khaan says. "The sooner you dump her into the lap of the King of Gondor, I feel, the better."
"I have been tempted to do exactly that." Eruphel agrees again. She takes a deep breath, looking up to the sky as she tries to think. "If we allowed her to go into the city, how many guards would she need to bring her back safely, in your opinion?" Eruphel continues to talk about Farielle right in front of her, as if she weren't even there.
"Five should do it..." Khaan eyes the girl up and down like inspecting a piece of dubious food. "But why? She is valuable and I assume will fetch a pretty coin if Lord Alphros accepts her. Why risk damaging or even losing the goods? To what end-to relieve her boredom? Let her be bored, I say-the better for her to learn to appreciate our lands and her new situation, rather than wallowing about, whining day and night," he says in disgust. "But do as you wish, Lady. You have asked my opinion, and I say do not give in to a spoiled child."
Eruphel looks at the Gondorian woman, then does something she has not done much: switches to the Umbarean dialect. "What you say is true. She is worth a lot of coin, if Lord Alphros chooses her. But we must consider first, that Lord Alphros has asked that she not be treated as a prisoner. I have tried to do that, within reason." She looks at Farielle a bit, then continues. "And we must also consider that if he does choose her, especially if he does win his bid for the throne, she will be Queen of Gondor and a powerful person. It is a narrow line between safety and diplomacy. Five, you say?"
"If you are concerned about Lord Alphros...of Farside..." Khaan answers in the same language, emphasizing Farside in a hard tone, "then 10 guards. Or take your concerns to Farside, that she needs to be more swiftly ...accommodated by them. If you are concnerned for her safety, then do not let her roam the city at all, and the tower with two guards at all times."
Eruphel shakes her head and sighs. "Your counsel is wise...Sergeant." she says, still in her native language, giving the informal promotion a chance to sink in. "Ten guards. Take her out to the Market just once. After that, she likely will not even wish to go, especially if she catches a slave auction in progress." She rises. "And keep a detail of two here in Seaward."
"Very well, Lady," Khaan says also still in Haradaic, one brow arching briefly at the promotion. "Thank you," he salutes. He eyes Farielle again. "To the slave auctions...yes...and perhaps there will be a public whipping there, as well. But I will take extra guards."
The glint in Farielle's eyes becomes anger as she listens to what is said about her, anger that is not abated by the two in front of her switching suddenly to another language so that she can understand nothing at all. Still she says nothing, but crosses her arms and waits for them to finish.
Eruphel nods once. Then she turns to Farielle, speaking Westron once again. "You may go. I am sending ten guards with you. Make good use of them," she says softly, then heads down the path toward the tower.