Chapter Sixteen
It was the change in sound that awakened her, the noise of the horse's hooves on flagstones after days of dull thudding onto grass. Blinking she sat up straighter, sick of riding and the constant movement. She looked, confused at the gate they had passed through, the city having crept up on her suddenly as she slept. White stone houses had thrown themselves up when before it had been just grass, crowding around and jostling for space. If someone had tried to build Mithlond, keeping the same number of houses but with less grace and room, it would have looked something like the city around her. It was not as utilitarian as Isengard, nor as foreboding yet she took an instant dislike to it, after mere moments.
The reason: the city stank. Animals, sweat, waste and thousands of Men all crammed together made her bury her face. Isengard was sweet compared to the city.
"Stop that," Curunír told her harshly. "You will get used to it." Braving the air she looked around at the houses again in wonder. At the dead of night there were no people, save for a few guards and one or two shadowy figures pretending, or failing to hide in the alleyways off of the main street. Their lives appeared to be far more exciting than those of the watchmen who were making rounds and routinely missing them at every turn. She thought them quite blind.
The road was steep, zigzagging up the hill upon which the city was built and she counted out the gates as they climbed higher and higher.
"Is this it?" she asked as Curunír lifted her down in a courtyard, looking at the sapling tree standing alone on the tiny circle of grass.
"Stay quiet, child." She followed, pulling her bag tightly under her arm. Curunír stopped and spoke to the guard at the door then swept away behind him. They were led straight through a long, cold corridor lined with tapestries that held little warmth or life. The door, she conceded, was nicely carved with flowers and deer and ran her hand across it as it was opened for her.
"Stay here, child. This is Hiliel, she will look after you." With that Curunír turned around and the door was shut behind him.
"Mae govannen," the woman standing in the room said in a timid voice. Yarna turned around to stare at her. She was not an adult, one of the strange people who were halfway between being children and being grow up, her long dark blonde hair in thick plaits. Silence stretched between them as the woman seemed too worried to say anything and Yarna had no idea if a greeting was all the Sindarin she could say.
"Your name?" Hiliel asked slowly.
"Yarna." As Hiliel watched her cautiously, she looked around the room. A bed filled most of one wall, a trundle cot next to it that already looked slept in. A heavy wardrobe stood next to the window where thick drapes were pulled tight.
"Food?" Yarna shook her head and wandered around curiously. "Sleep, my lady?" After dozing on the ride she was hardly tired, ready to explore the new city.
"Am I to stay in your room?" she asked Hiliel, too quickly for her to understand. Instead she pointed to the trundle bed.
"Sleep, my lady."
"I will not make any noise," promised Yarna and sat on the floor and rummaged around in her bag until she pulled her archer out to play with. Hiliel just watched her in surprise.
"No?" Growing tired of her insistence Yarna went over to her.
"I am not tired." They both turned as the door was opened violently and an older woman in a grey dress stormed in, staring at Yarna for a moment before a tirade of angry snaps in a strange, half-Sindarin tongue was shot at them. Yarna was picked up, her cloak pulled off then her shoes until the lady in grey, with Hiliel's almost reluctant help had undressed her and forced a scratchy night dress over her head. Another flow of sounds followed until Yarna was lying down with a sheet over her shoulders, having been dumped into a cold bath before roughly dried. She stayed still until the door slammed and the woman had left.
"Hiliel?" she asked quietly.
"Lady say sleep," came the answer.
"Said," Yarna corrected. "The lady said to sleep." She had wriggled around so that her face was hanging off the edge of the bed to look down at Hiliel. "Why is your bed small?"
"Little lady have bed, - uh- Hiliel not lady."
"I am not a lady either. Can no one here speak Sindarin except you?" Hiliel frowned in the darkness for a moment, leaning on her elbows so that their faces, although at different heights were level.
"The King speaks to elves. Hiliel try."
"Teach me the tongue of Men, please?" Yarna had not exchanged whispers like that since she before she had left Mithlond where Alsea and the other children in the dormitory had spent most nights giggling excitedly to each other.
"Yes!" Hiliel grinned and said something muffled. "Lady." Yarna repeated it slowly until Hiliel nodded, pleased.
They did not sleep in the end, whispering excitedly for the remainder of the night until the sun peeked through the drapes. Hiliel sighed, dragging herself out of the cot and towards the wardrobe.
"Dress, my Lady Yarna?" she asked, holding up a heavy looking gown. "See King." Yarna peeked into the wardrobe, peering up at the clothes on tip toe until Hiliel laughed. She held up her arms to be lifted up, much to Hiliel's surprise.
"Blue," she said in what she now knew to be Westron. Hiliel began to pull her nightdress off again, apparently unaware that Yarna could do that herself. The dress, however, required tying and she was content to let that be done for her. A plump woman appeared bearing breakfast, set it down and left without a word. It seemed a strange thing to do. Hiliel named every item on the tray, and Yarna did so in Sindarin as they ate.
Then Hiliel looked at the comb in her hands and gave her a smile.
"No sister," she said quietly. "Four brothers." It was with some quiet relish that she then proceeded to braid Yarna's hair.
"Ellon wear braids too." Hiliel looked surprised at that, although it was not clear how much she understood.
"Ready?" Yarna nodded and they left, Hiliel holding her hand as if she was young enough to be at risk of running off. The more she thought about it, the more she decided that at least if her uncles were to be asked, she probably was.