Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Days of the King ❯ Chapter 29
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Queen-of-Blades138 
Non Anime: Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 05.17.2009 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 207 | Status: Completed
Non Anime: Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 05.17.2009 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 207 | Status: Completed
Chapter 30 -
Arwen acquired a maidservants' plain homespun dress of wool, washed repeatedly to a nondescript color that may have once been pale blue, but was now closer to grey. A white apron and beige hooded cloak completed her disguise. She had dug a bit of brownish clay from the palace gardens, mixed it with a little water and rubbed it lightly but vigorously on her face and hands. Her luminous ivory skin would have been noticeable even with her cloak drawn about her. Her slippers were mostly hidden under her skirt, but she chose the plainest pair she owned, black, with ornate embroidery and several small gems. Those she pried loose from the stitching and discarded.
With downcast eyes and a slight stoop to her carriage, she might not be noticed. Still, it was a gamble. But Arwen needed answers now; this would not wait.
She proceeded silently down the servants staircase, moving swiftly and keeping her eyes on the floor. If she met no one's eyes, they would not be sure. She would endeavor not speak to anyone and if possible, avoid contact altogether.
The servant's circular staircase was quiet, but for a small group of maidservants huddled around a window that viewed the main boulevard. They did not notice her swift and silent progress as she hurried past.
Indeed, there were many such groups, jostling each other for a better view of some procession at several windows and balconeys as she made her way quickly towards the servants entrance through the kitchens. Arwen could hear merry but unfamiliar music rising from the streets below.
With this distraction, she passed unremarked through the palace and along the streets. The city was electrified; something of great interest was occuring, though she had yet to see it.
Curiousity aroused, she stood slightly behind a merchants wife who stood on a stool at tip toe to peer over the city wall, a middle aged lady with a generous dusting of flour on her shoes and dress.
"Is it a carnival, my lady?" Arwen asked in her best lower class Gondorian accent.
The baker turned briefly and gave the seeming servant girl barely a glance. "We've all heard the tower watches call...it is Haradrim! A parade of some sort. Word from the lower city is they have a oliphaunt with them. And dancers, and a wagon of gold! What they're doing here, no one seems to know..."
The baker glanced behind her again. The palace serving girl was gone. She shrugged, and resumed her
watch.
Haradrim? Arwen asked herself. Why? and why now?
The rest of her descent to Augra's shop was uneventful, but for the occasional flurry of children scrambling to get better vantage points to see these attractions as they scampered along the streets. Neighbor chatted with neighbor, and even the city guards had no eyes for the maidservant as she slipped along the inner walls of the streets. She felt almost invisible.
The lower city housed Gondor's poorest. There were few, if any single family residences; most homes were multi-story dwellings where whole families occupied a room or two. The apartments and shops facing the main boulevard were reasonably clean and well kept (at least on the outside); but the underbelly of the great city showed in the condition of the structures (and the citizens) that occupied the narrow side streets that lead away from the main gate. To her sensitive elven nose, all the maladies that plagued Men were evident simply from the smells: cheap alchohol and vomit, ordure, unwashed bodies, rotted food,
damp and mildew. Slops and trash were deposited directly into the street, although her dear Aragorn valiantly tried to convince the citizenry to wait for the daily waste removal carts; the habits of this old city were hard to break. Arwen had received quite an education about the nature of Men since coming
to live in Minas Tirith. Little of what she had learned was to their credit.
She was not sure exactly of the location of her destination, but other senses helped to guide her. Arwen walked more slowly now, taking note of the signs of the shops. She had found a street (more of an narrow alley) called Wizard's Way, filled with shops selling (ostensibly) magical items and services. Augra's
shop was said to be rather distinctive. Arwen was not sure what she was looking for, but let herself be guided by some instinct.
At nearly the end of a particularly smelly and roughly paved dead-end court, a low rounded door way, recessed from the street, could have easily been overlooked. No advertisements of the establishments' wares were in evidence, but a palm sized representation of a star, rather irregularly shaped and
surrounded by glyphs, glowed slightly in the middle of the door. Even in the early afternoon, this street had been darkened by the overhanging buildings and gave the feeling of twilight.
Arwen stepped into the entrance to the short alley leading to the door. Other glyphs, hundreds of them, became visible along the walls. She stopped for a moment, suddenly hesitant.
The round door opened. Brilliant candlelight from within illumed the glyphs which seemed to then have a glow of their own. A figure was silhoutted in the doorway.
"Welcome, my Lady. Please come in. You are expected."
The short, somewhat squat figure of Augra was recognizable, though the candlelight cast a somewhat mysterious glow around her. Arwen did as she was bid, and entered the shop.
Scores of candles cast their light around the small space, strangely obscuring the details of the space. Augra closed the door behind Arwen.
Augra bowed low before the Queen.
"Welcome again, my Lady. Please forgive my humble abode. I am not accustomed to the company of the mighty..."
Arwen studied Augra for a brief moment. In spite of her servant's garb, her stance bespoke her station to any who looked twice.
"Madame...you have have the confidence of the King of this land. If he can place such trust in you, surely my presence cannot discomfit you so."
Augra bowed even lower, and did not meet the Queen's gaze.
"I know you seek that which I cannot give you. But there are others who may have knowledge that you need. I can only help you to find these others, my lady...I alone have no answers for you. But for good or ill...it is beyond my power to say. If you will follow me..." Augra gestured towards the
interior of her shop, "perhaps we may discover some answers together."
--------------- ~ -------------
"Well, that was an eye opener. No mistake about that..." mused Gimli as he smoked his great pipe.
He and Pippin were in the dwarf's rooms, contemplating the mornings' events and speculating about the evening
to come.
It was late afternoon, still a few hours before dinner. The lowering western sun cast brilliant golden light into the sitting room. To Pippin, the royal residence was full of unaccustomed luxury. The dressed stone of walls and floors were barely visible behind the thick carpeting, tapestries, draperies and statuary. He reclined on a low, long, cushioned seat, large enough for another three hobbits to sit beside him. A small but cheerful fire in the grate dispelled the chill of the early spring afternoon that still clung to the castle.
Pippin, never without his own pipe, had brought pipeweed from Hobbiton, but was delighted to find the royal storehouses well supplied with some to the Shire's best. He and Gimli had well befogged the room before
conversation started.
"That Dathik-Nessa seems a pleasant enough fellow; and I don't want to speak ill of a stranger who comes with open hands in friendship, but I don't like it. Perhaps I'm just getting old, young Pip, but having met some of his fellows who joined the Dark Lord, I cannot yet bring myself to trust any Harad."
Here, he pulled thoughtfully again on this pipe.
Pippin exhaled, making a series of o's of the thick, aromatic smoke.
"I don't know much about these matters, Gimli...I cannot say I'm much of a man of the world, but didn't you ever wonder why other Men joined with Sauron in the first place? I mean, they are people, probably more like us than unlike, judging by this one Harad we've ever really met. And his people seem friendly...at least a lot friendlier than we would have thought..."
Gimil chuckled. "That's a thought. Why would they have joined with Mordor? They must have seen that only evil could come from that accured place. But it is difficult to find the good in anyone on the other side of a sword 's point. Ah, Pip..." Gimli exhaled a great cloud of smoke, that hid most of his head and face like early fog in the high mountains. "This is a new age. Maybe it's for you younger folk to see the world with fresh eyes. But one thing I did not expect -
that Ilnar and Neftara..."
"Ilnara and Neftah..." Pippin corrected.
"Ah...they are a handsome pair! Their father indicated that they would entertain us tonight; a dance of some sort. I must admit I am looking forward to that!"
Pippin was silent for a moment.
"Gimli...let me ask you something. On the...road here, Legolas seemed almost giddy. He all but admitted he was in love with some lady in Minas Tirith. My curiousity is peaked! Would you know who it might be?"
Gimli gave a start, and paused in mid-inhalation, hastily expelled the smallish (comparatively) cloud of smoke.
"What's that you say?! Legolas in love?! That sly dog! He gave no hint of it to me. Well, well, well...this is yet another surprise! Let us keep an eye on this. Pippin. In all the years I have known him, he has never expressed any real interest in any lass. And Pip..." Gimli gave him a conspiratorial wink,..."let's keep this to ourselves. I'm sure the King, Faramir, and the rest of Gondor has other things on their minds right now. Let this be our mystery to solve, eh?"
--------------- ~ -------------
Aragorn sought Arwen. She was not in their rooms, nor was she with Eowyn. Aragorn thought she might have overcome some of her distress to carry out a few of her responsibilities as Queen. She should have been at Eowyn's side for much of her trial. Aragorn could, however, understand her reluctance in that matter.She, childless, might not have been able to bear up under such a visceral reminder of Eowyn's fertility.
But now there were the visiting Haradrim, and protocol demanded her presence. He did not want to give the visitors the impression that his Queen snubbed them. Arwen should oversee the preparations for their feasting and entertainment. It was the duty of the lady of any great house, much less the palace of Minas
Tirith.
But where was she?
Casual requests of staff were fruitless; Arwen kept so to herself that her presence (or lack thereof)
was not remarked.
Faramir's observation regarding the wizards intent to attack them through their women was more distressing the longer he could not find Arwen. It was not her habit to go a-wandering, and with a city full of these exotic strangers-
Could this Hasdral's arm have grown so long that he could abduct Arwen? Take her from Minas Tirith altogether?
After the third inquiry of staff members as to his Queen's whereabouts, Aragorn forced a calm upon himself he did not feel. The last thing he wanted was some panicked manhunt for Arwen, showing his dismay to servants and guests, not to mention the messengers of the council members and nobility that had begun to gather in the lower common hall at their masters' bidding, waiting for their invitations to the assumed state dinner for the visiting dignitary.
She needed to be found, and quickly, before the threads of some gossip further complicated this tangled tapestry of a day any further.
Suddenly, a thought occured to him. Legolas! He could track a bird in flight on a cloudy day. And as he was not part of the palace hierarchy, his actions would not be scrutinized.
Aragorn spun on his heel, and hurried towards Legolas' rooms.
--------------- ~ -------------
Ulietta, dressed in a pale yellow silk dress with white embroidery and matching cloak, entered the common hallway.. Her bronze hair was piled high upon her head, and bound with yellow and white ribbons. She strode through the common hall on the street level of the palace with a slight smile at the guards, who all bowed - they knew Ondoher's daughter. She frequently consulted the palace libraries, accompanied her widowed father to court functions, and performed the requisite (though brief) visits with the Lady Eowyn when she was at court. As the second most powerful woman in the Realm, wife of the Regent and princess of Rohan, it was good politics to keep on actively good terms.
A guard dispatched a palace messenger to announce her to Eowyn. Ulietta waited with the cool reserve of the aristocracy. Although the common hall was relatively crowded and noisy, she seemed above and beyond the throng. She could have been alone in a garden for all the attention she paid to the rest of occupants of the room. Two servants, a middle aged man, an old soldier by the look of him, and a young woman accompanied her, both burdened with numerous gaily wrapped packages.
The messenger returned and the guard stepped aside and held the door open for the lady and her entourage. They walked to the first landing. With a quick look about to assure they were alone, Ulietta gave the maidservant a nod. She gave all of her packages save one to the manservant and retraced her steps, but turned towards the palace kitchens instead of returning to the common hallway.
As Ulietta and her manservant continued upward, the woman walked towards the palace kitchens on the first floor, hailing many of the palace servants. She was dressed in a richly embroidered, but slightly worn pale brown wool, a quality cast off from her mistress' wardrobe. She was lean and spare, similar to her mistress, with long straight red hair caught in a simple braid at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were hazel, topaz colored some said; all in all an attractive girl. She prided herself in her position as a ladies maid to the great house of Ondoher. Her history was not as spotless as her current status would indicate, but when she met Lord Ondoher, his discerning eye registered her hunger to elevate her station along with a quick mind and a certain ruthlessness of character. He knew she would be of use to him, and hired the then ragged teenager to tend to his youngest daughter. And teach her things no tutor or nurse could.
All the great houses exchanged gossip, and the palace was the greatest house of all. Most of the serving classes were well acquainted with each other, and had family members in many of the houses of the nobility. The palace kitchens were bustling with not only the routine meals but the preparation of the great feast for the visting Haradrim. The incessant clanking of cooking vessels, great clouds of steam from boiling pot, and a half dozen assistant head chefs barking orders to the two dozen or so cooks.
The maidservant sought out one of the assistant chefs, a woman in her early thirties, quite plump, red-headed, sweating profusely from the heat and the effort of heaping abuse upon her underlings.
" 'Allo, Brindie! You're a busy one today!"
Brindie turned about quickly, ready to snap at the unfortunate who dared to interrupt her oratory. When she saw who it was, she broke into a surprisingly charming grin. "Oh, Shulene! What are you doing here among hardworking folk? A ladies' maid like you doesn't want to go around smelling like common kitchen help!"
Shulene chuckled. "For a taste of one of your famous meat pies, I'll risk it! Got one to spare for me?"
"For you lass, anything!" Brindie eyed the package Shulene still clutched in her hand. "Now what's this? Something for your Auntie?"
"Sorry Brindie, not this time. This is a rare flower my Lady Ulietta grows in her garden. It builds up the blood. It's especially good for the wounded or for women who have suffered in childbirth. She thought the Lady Eowyn could use it to give her strength."
Brindie took the package and clutched it to her bosom. "So sweet, is that Lady Ulietta! Our poor Lady Eowyn had a very bad time of it, they say. Almost died. How do I prepare it?"
"Just put four or five of the flower petals at the bottom of a cup and pour hot water on it. A little honey would taste good in it, but it has it's own sweetness. My mistress swears that it's just what she needs...and Brindie," here she dropped her voice to a conpiratorial whisper,"there is enough there for you to give some to your husband. It's also said to make a healthy man feel even more so...if you catch my meaning..."
Brindie gave her a look which tried to be shocked or scandalized, and then gave in to a raucous laugh. "Imagine! Oh, you wicked girl! My old man could use a bit of encouragement in that area. I'll give it a try. Tonight!"
During this exchange, Shulene had cast her eye about the vast kitchen. Versia, bringing an afternoon tea to the Harad princesses, had entered the other side of the cooking area, and suddenly stiffened, like a mouse who senses the cat is near. She cast a panicked look about and saw Shulene, who gave her a slight nod. A noticeably shaken Versia gave instructions to one of the cooks, who immediately set about filling a tray. Versia wiped her sweaty palms upon her apron, and left the way she had come.
Brindie pressed one her meat pies, wrapped in a napkin, into Shulene's hands. "Give my best to your mistress, and bless her for the gift to our Lady Eowyn!"
Shulene turned and walked slowly away from the kitchen, taking a small bite of the pie as she went.
Just before she reached the stair, a perspiring Versia caught up with her.
"I'm sorry, Shulene, really I am! It has been so busy..." the girl wrung her hands, and fairly wailed in distress.
"Keep your voice down, you silly girl!", Shulene hissed. "Lord Ondoher expects his reports every 3 days, and you're 2 days late already. We know that much has transpired in these last few days. Lucky for you, Lady Ulietta is here, visiting with Lady Eowyn. Meet her on the staircase outside of Eowyn's room in 15 minutes. Do not fail! Remember, should your lord and lady learn that you have been telling their tales abroad, you could face charges of treason!"
"Oh, mercy, Shulene! I'll be there! I shan't be late! Please don't tell..."
Shulene eyed the girl with distain, turned on her heel, and ascended the staircase.
Arwen acquired a maidservants' plain homespun dress of wool, washed repeatedly to a nondescript color that may have once been pale blue, but was now closer to grey. A white apron and beige hooded cloak completed her disguise. She had dug a bit of brownish clay from the palace gardens, mixed it with a little water and rubbed it lightly but vigorously on her face and hands. Her luminous ivory skin would have been noticeable even with her cloak drawn about her. Her slippers were mostly hidden under her skirt, but she chose the plainest pair she owned, black, with ornate embroidery and several small gems. Those she pried loose from the stitching and discarded.
With downcast eyes and a slight stoop to her carriage, she might not be noticed. Still, it was a gamble. But Arwen needed answers now; this would not wait.
She proceeded silently down the servants staircase, moving swiftly and keeping her eyes on the floor. If she met no one's eyes, they would not be sure. She would endeavor not speak to anyone and if possible, avoid contact altogether.
The servant's circular staircase was quiet, but for a small group of maidservants huddled around a window that viewed the main boulevard. They did not notice her swift and silent progress as she hurried past.
Indeed, there were many such groups, jostling each other for a better view of some procession at several windows and balconeys as she made her way quickly towards the servants entrance through the kitchens. Arwen could hear merry but unfamiliar music rising from the streets below.
With this distraction, she passed unremarked through the palace and along the streets. The city was electrified; something of great interest was occuring, though she had yet to see it.
Curiousity aroused, she stood slightly behind a merchants wife who stood on a stool at tip toe to peer over the city wall, a middle aged lady with a generous dusting of flour on her shoes and dress.
"Is it a carnival, my lady?" Arwen asked in her best lower class Gondorian accent.
The baker turned briefly and gave the seeming servant girl barely a glance. "We've all heard the tower watches call...it is Haradrim! A parade of some sort. Word from the lower city is they have a oliphaunt with them. And dancers, and a wagon of gold! What they're doing here, no one seems to know..."
The baker glanced behind her again. The palace serving girl was gone. She shrugged, and resumed her
watch.
Haradrim? Arwen asked herself. Why? and why now?
The rest of her descent to Augra's shop was uneventful, but for the occasional flurry of children scrambling to get better vantage points to see these attractions as they scampered along the streets. Neighbor chatted with neighbor, and even the city guards had no eyes for the maidservant as she slipped along the inner walls of the streets. She felt almost invisible.
The lower city housed Gondor's poorest. There were few, if any single family residences; most homes were multi-story dwellings where whole families occupied a room or two. The apartments and shops facing the main boulevard were reasonably clean and well kept (at least on the outside); but the underbelly of the great city showed in the condition of the structures (and the citizens) that occupied the narrow side streets that lead away from the main gate. To her sensitive elven nose, all the maladies that plagued Men were evident simply from the smells: cheap alchohol and vomit, ordure, unwashed bodies, rotted food,
damp and mildew. Slops and trash were deposited directly into the street, although her dear Aragorn valiantly tried to convince the citizenry to wait for the daily waste removal carts; the habits of this old city were hard to break. Arwen had received quite an education about the nature of Men since coming
to live in Minas Tirith. Little of what she had learned was to their credit.
She was not sure exactly of the location of her destination, but other senses helped to guide her. Arwen walked more slowly now, taking note of the signs of the shops. She had found a street (more of an narrow alley) called Wizard's Way, filled with shops selling (ostensibly) magical items and services. Augra's
shop was said to be rather distinctive. Arwen was not sure what she was looking for, but let herself be guided by some instinct.
At nearly the end of a particularly smelly and roughly paved dead-end court, a low rounded door way, recessed from the street, could have easily been overlooked. No advertisements of the establishments' wares were in evidence, but a palm sized representation of a star, rather irregularly shaped and
surrounded by glyphs, glowed slightly in the middle of the door. Even in the early afternoon, this street had been darkened by the overhanging buildings and gave the feeling of twilight.
Arwen stepped into the entrance to the short alley leading to the door. Other glyphs, hundreds of them, became visible along the walls. She stopped for a moment, suddenly hesitant.
The round door opened. Brilliant candlelight from within illumed the glyphs which seemed to then have a glow of their own. A figure was silhoutted in the doorway.
"Welcome, my Lady. Please come in. You are expected."
The short, somewhat squat figure of Augra was recognizable, though the candlelight cast a somewhat mysterious glow around her. Arwen did as she was bid, and entered the shop.
Scores of candles cast their light around the small space, strangely obscuring the details of the space. Augra closed the door behind Arwen.
Augra bowed low before the Queen.
"Welcome again, my Lady. Please forgive my humble abode. I am not accustomed to the company of the mighty..."
Arwen studied Augra for a brief moment. In spite of her servant's garb, her stance bespoke her station to any who looked twice.
"Madame...you have have the confidence of the King of this land. If he can place such trust in you, surely my presence cannot discomfit you so."
Augra bowed even lower, and did not meet the Queen's gaze.
"I know you seek that which I cannot give you. But there are others who may have knowledge that you need. I can only help you to find these others, my lady...I alone have no answers for you. But for good or ill...it is beyond my power to say. If you will follow me..." Augra gestured towards the
interior of her shop, "perhaps we may discover some answers together."
--------------- ~ -------------
"Well, that was an eye opener. No mistake about that..." mused Gimli as he smoked his great pipe.
He and Pippin were in the dwarf's rooms, contemplating the mornings' events and speculating about the evening
to come.
It was late afternoon, still a few hours before dinner. The lowering western sun cast brilliant golden light into the sitting room. To Pippin, the royal residence was full of unaccustomed luxury. The dressed stone of walls and floors were barely visible behind the thick carpeting, tapestries, draperies and statuary. He reclined on a low, long, cushioned seat, large enough for another three hobbits to sit beside him. A small but cheerful fire in the grate dispelled the chill of the early spring afternoon that still clung to the castle.
Pippin, never without his own pipe, had brought pipeweed from Hobbiton, but was delighted to find the royal storehouses well supplied with some to the Shire's best. He and Gimli had well befogged the room before
conversation started.
"That Dathik-Nessa seems a pleasant enough fellow; and I don't want to speak ill of a stranger who comes with open hands in friendship, but I don't like it. Perhaps I'm just getting old, young Pip, but having met some of his fellows who joined the Dark Lord, I cannot yet bring myself to trust any Harad."
Here, he pulled thoughtfully again on this pipe.
Pippin exhaled, making a series of o's of the thick, aromatic smoke.
"I don't know much about these matters, Gimli...I cannot say I'm much of a man of the world, but didn't you ever wonder why other Men joined with Sauron in the first place? I mean, they are people, probably more like us than unlike, judging by this one Harad we've ever really met. And his people seem friendly...at least a lot friendlier than we would have thought..."
Gimil chuckled. "That's a thought. Why would they have joined with Mordor? They must have seen that only evil could come from that accured place. But it is difficult to find the good in anyone on the other side of a sword 's point. Ah, Pip..." Gimli exhaled a great cloud of smoke, that hid most of his head and face like early fog in the high mountains. "This is a new age. Maybe it's for you younger folk to see the world with fresh eyes. But one thing I did not expect -
that Ilnar and Neftara..."
"Ilnara and Neftah..." Pippin corrected.
"Ah...they are a handsome pair! Their father indicated that they would entertain us tonight; a dance of some sort. I must admit I am looking forward to that!"
Pippin was silent for a moment.
"Gimli...let me ask you something. On the...road here, Legolas seemed almost giddy. He all but admitted he was in love with some lady in Minas Tirith. My curiousity is peaked! Would you know who it might be?"
Gimli gave a start, and paused in mid-inhalation, hastily expelled the smallish (comparatively) cloud of smoke.
"What's that you say?! Legolas in love?! That sly dog! He gave no hint of it to me. Well, well, well...this is yet another surprise! Let us keep an eye on this. Pippin. In all the years I have known him, he has never expressed any real interest in any lass. And Pip..." Gimli gave him a conspiratorial wink,..."let's keep this to ourselves. I'm sure the King, Faramir, and the rest of Gondor has other things on their minds right now. Let this be our mystery to solve, eh?"
--------------- ~ -------------
Aragorn sought Arwen. She was not in their rooms, nor was she with Eowyn. Aragorn thought she might have overcome some of her distress to carry out a few of her responsibilities as Queen. She should have been at Eowyn's side for much of her trial. Aragorn could, however, understand her reluctance in that matter.She, childless, might not have been able to bear up under such a visceral reminder of Eowyn's fertility.
But now there were the visiting Haradrim, and protocol demanded her presence. He did not want to give the visitors the impression that his Queen snubbed them. Arwen should oversee the preparations for their feasting and entertainment. It was the duty of the lady of any great house, much less the palace of Minas
Tirith.
But where was she?
Casual requests of staff were fruitless; Arwen kept so to herself that her presence (or lack thereof)
was not remarked.
Faramir's observation regarding the wizards intent to attack them through their women was more distressing the longer he could not find Arwen. It was not her habit to go a-wandering, and with a city full of these exotic strangers-
Could this Hasdral's arm have grown so long that he could abduct Arwen? Take her from Minas Tirith altogether?
After the third inquiry of staff members as to his Queen's whereabouts, Aragorn forced a calm upon himself he did not feel. The last thing he wanted was some panicked manhunt for Arwen, showing his dismay to servants and guests, not to mention the messengers of the council members and nobility that had begun to gather in the lower common hall at their masters' bidding, waiting for their invitations to the assumed state dinner for the visiting dignitary.
She needed to be found, and quickly, before the threads of some gossip further complicated this tangled tapestry of a day any further.
Suddenly, a thought occured to him. Legolas! He could track a bird in flight on a cloudy day. And as he was not part of the palace hierarchy, his actions would not be scrutinized.
Aragorn spun on his heel, and hurried towards Legolas' rooms.
--------------- ~ -------------
Ulietta, dressed in a pale yellow silk dress with white embroidery and matching cloak, entered the common hallway.. Her bronze hair was piled high upon her head, and bound with yellow and white ribbons. She strode through the common hall on the street level of the palace with a slight smile at the guards, who all bowed - they knew Ondoher's daughter. She frequently consulted the palace libraries, accompanied her widowed father to court functions, and performed the requisite (though brief) visits with the Lady Eowyn when she was at court. As the second most powerful woman in the Realm, wife of the Regent and princess of Rohan, it was good politics to keep on actively good terms.
A guard dispatched a palace messenger to announce her to Eowyn. Ulietta waited with the cool reserve of the aristocracy. Although the common hall was relatively crowded and noisy, she seemed above and beyond the throng. She could have been alone in a garden for all the attention she paid to the rest of occupants of the room. Two servants, a middle aged man, an old soldier by the look of him, and a young woman accompanied her, both burdened with numerous gaily wrapped packages.
The messenger returned and the guard stepped aside and held the door open for the lady and her entourage. They walked to the first landing. With a quick look about to assure they were alone, Ulietta gave the maidservant a nod. She gave all of her packages save one to the manservant and retraced her steps, but turned towards the palace kitchens instead of returning to the common hallway.
As Ulietta and her manservant continued upward, the woman walked towards the palace kitchens on the first floor, hailing many of the palace servants. She was dressed in a richly embroidered, but slightly worn pale brown wool, a quality cast off from her mistress' wardrobe. She was lean and spare, similar to her mistress, with long straight red hair caught in a simple braid at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were hazel, topaz colored some said; all in all an attractive girl. She prided herself in her position as a ladies maid to the great house of Ondoher. Her history was not as spotless as her current status would indicate, but when she met Lord Ondoher, his discerning eye registered her hunger to elevate her station along with a quick mind and a certain ruthlessness of character. He knew she would be of use to him, and hired the then ragged teenager to tend to his youngest daughter. And teach her things no tutor or nurse could.
All the great houses exchanged gossip, and the palace was the greatest house of all. Most of the serving classes were well acquainted with each other, and had family members in many of the houses of the nobility. The palace kitchens were bustling with not only the routine meals but the preparation of the great feast for the visting Haradrim. The incessant clanking of cooking vessels, great clouds of steam from boiling pot, and a half dozen assistant head chefs barking orders to the two dozen or so cooks.
The maidservant sought out one of the assistant chefs, a woman in her early thirties, quite plump, red-headed, sweating profusely from the heat and the effort of heaping abuse upon her underlings.
" 'Allo, Brindie! You're a busy one today!"
Brindie turned about quickly, ready to snap at the unfortunate who dared to interrupt her oratory. When she saw who it was, she broke into a surprisingly charming grin. "Oh, Shulene! What are you doing here among hardworking folk? A ladies' maid like you doesn't want to go around smelling like common kitchen help!"
Shulene chuckled. "For a taste of one of your famous meat pies, I'll risk it! Got one to spare for me?"
"For you lass, anything!" Brindie eyed the package Shulene still clutched in her hand. "Now what's this? Something for your Auntie?"
"Sorry Brindie, not this time. This is a rare flower my Lady Ulietta grows in her garden. It builds up the blood. It's especially good for the wounded or for women who have suffered in childbirth. She thought the Lady Eowyn could use it to give her strength."
Brindie took the package and clutched it to her bosom. "So sweet, is that Lady Ulietta! Our poor Lady Eowyn had a very bad time of it, they say. Almost died. How do I prepare it?"
"Just put four or five of the flower petals at the bottom of a cup and pour hot water on it. A little honey would taste good in it, but it has it's own sweetness. My mistress swears that it's just what she needs...and Brindie," here she dropped her voice to a conpiratorial whisper,"there is enough there for you to give some to your husband. It's also said to make a healthy man feel even more so...if you catch my meaning..."
Brindie gave her a look which tried to be shocked or scandalized, and then gave in to a raucous laugh. "Imagine! Oh, you wicked girl! My old man could use a bit of encouragement in that area. I'll give it a try. Tonight!"
During this exchange, Shulene had cast her eye about the vast kitchen. Versia, bringing an afternoon tea to the Harad princesses, had entered the other side of the cooking area, and suddenly stiffened, like a mouse who senses the cat is near. She cast a panicked look about and saw Shulene, who gave her a slight nod. A noticeably shaken Versia gave instructions to one of the cooks, who immediately set about filling a tray. Versia wiped her sweaty palms upon her apron, and left the way she had come.
Brindie pressed one her meat pies, wrapped in a napkin, into Shulene's hands. "Give my best to your mistress, and bless her for the gift to our Lady Eowyn!"
Shulene turned and walked slowly away from the kitchen, taking a small bite of the pie as she went.
Just before she reached the stair, a perspiring Versia caught up with her.
"I'm sorry, Shulene, really I am! It has been so busy..." the girl wrung her hands, and fairly wailed in distress.
"Keep your voice down, you silly girl!", Shulene hissed. "Lord Ondoher expects his reports every 3 days, and you're 2 days late already. We know that much has transpired in these last few days. Lucky for you, Lady Ulietta is here, visiting with Lady Eowyn. Meet her on the staircase outside of Eowyn's room in 15 minutes. Do not fail! Remember, should your lord and lady learn that you have been telling their tales abroad, you could face charges of treason!"
"Oh, mercy, Shulene! I'll be there! I shan't be late! Please don't tell..."
Shulene eyed the girl with distain, turned on her heel, and ascended the staircase.