Midsummer's Eve [By Invitation of the Steward]

[Narbeleth]

”Do all members of your family behave so…spirited?” The young woman clutched at the folds of her dress, containing her outburst of laughter as the man questioned her own behavior. “Only when we are provoked,” she assured him, nodding seriously, and then giving the man another spritely look, her eyes glistened in laughter. “Do not look so terrified. I assure you that I enjoy you far too much to send you off with bruises and scrapes. After all, my brother would be furious with me should I injure one of his workers. He needs you, healthy and strong as you are. I would not give him such a loss.” The lilt of the woman’s voice could not leave her; so amused she was!

“And I am glad I know now of this restriction, so I can enforce it for you. After all, letting you run around in such a way would certainly get me beaten nicely. As well as attract you too much attention from other men.” Narbeleth took a sip of wine in such a way to tease at Calon’s words, and then her free hand returned to her hip. “Well I say, Calon,” she used his full name, as if to get her point across. “You should not worry too much on my restrictions, I am an adult after all, and though it may not seem it; I can certainly control myself. And you should not speak on my undergarments in such a way. If I wished to attract attention from other men so direly I am certain I could find another way of it than to simply strip down in their presence. I am no harlot.”

Perhaps Calon had heard rumor by Durion of her own sister, and it worried her for a moment. Though Miriel was nonsensical most of the time, it did not mean that all of their family behaved in such a manner. Beleth did not wish for it to be known across Minas Tirith that the daughters of Faelon were loose and immoral. Though Calon seemed to be laughing at her right now, Beleth felt uncomfortable. It was a sore issue in her family; what with the rumors about dear Gilwen, and when word came out of Miriel’s behavior, it would only be worse. She eyed Calon warily for just a moment, before deciding that her qualms were unwarranted. His eyes were sparkling so, and she knew that he was simply jesting with her. “No, I suppose Fael made a good choice of sending me with you tonight. You did him a fine favor of getting me off his hands, that he might spend time with her,” as she spoke, she had glanced out to the dancing floor, where her brother and Gilwen were spinning about merrily. She was happy for them. How wonderful it was to see her brother with such a pleasant look upon his face. “And I will do you the favor of letting you return home in one piece. Neither I, nor my brother, should beat you.”

Indeed, Beleth could not even think of doing such a thing to Calon. Though most of his statements would have likely offended someone such as her sister or mother, or any properly obedient woman, this lady was highly amused by him. He was quite kind, and the more that Beleth thought about it; she thought him indeed handsome. There was nothing more handsome than a man who had a sense of humor, and adored horses as much as he did. Not to mention, his sea blue eyes that twinkled as if the waves of the ocean were within them, and the curls of dark hair. And just looking at him, she could see the strength he held. He was a man built by the things that he accomplished, it was certain. He was one who worked hard; unlike some of the men of her class, who lived their lives and gained wealth by the deeds of their fathers. No, Calon was a true man. She felt a warmth and delight within her, though she did not blush, or give it much thought, simply enjoying the moment, and sipping on her wine.

Narbeleth felt girlish at such thoughts forming in her mind. She could not lie to herself of the fact that she was quite attracted to Calon, at least by this first… or second impression. But, it nonetheless did not change her behavior. She would never change her behavior for worry that someone else would not approve. If they did not enjoy her true demeanor, she would simply not be close to them. She loved people, and loved to please people, but she would not change her own attitude for the sake of it. The topic once more turned to chickens. Calon was a man of amusement, that was certain, and Beleth was adoring it. If her brother should have sent her off with anyone else this evening, she knew she would not have had as much fun as she was having now with Calon. His wittiness was charming. “It is certainly well that hen herding is only your part time business. It would be a pity to see you exhausted and weary at the end of each day as a result of those conniving birds.” Her smile did not fail as she continued, “How lucky I was on the day we met; that you must have had a well rested night, to catch that bird for me. I think if it would have gone loose as you say they sometimes do, I would not think so well of you right now. I don’t know what I would have done without you. To return home distressed, and not make Grandfather his pie. If Faeldor would have found out about that day; or that it was one of his own stable hands who had not been able to catch the hen. Well, you would have been off to a rough start in this city; that is certain. You certainly would not be enjoying this fine wine with me tonight, that is certain.” She raised her eyebrows at the man, and then took another sip, her glass now half empty.

[Gilwen]

Herion had arrived with an escort hat evening. A lovely and bright young woman of the fifth tier. She was not his ideal accompaniment—though it seemed his parents and hers were quite adamantly trying to have them wed. In the back of his mind, he mused that indeed it was time for him to take a bride and settle down in a house of his own, but how could one make such a decision and act upon it? It overwhelmed the man, in truth. There was no reason why the woman beside him would not make a fine wife or mother. Was it, then, that he felt unwilling to marry for other reasons? Perhaps he was more unnerved by the idea than he had led himself to believe.

“Do excuse me, Herion.” A deep and laughing voice said as he stepped into view. “But I would love to take my daughter for the first dance.” How could he refuse?

Herion smiled and nodded genteelly, and extended his arm so that the young woman could be taken from him. And she was; immediately whisked out to the dance floor. Now the man clad in dark blue stood quite alone and watched. There were so few couples upon the floor, perhaps just his own escort and father and another. His eyes flicked to that one for a moment and watched in awe of the grace both parties possessed. Indeed, many eyes were upon that particular couple—ladies probably envious of the man, the men envious of the lady. Both were quite striking in appearance, as well. A fine match, indeed. He crossed his arms and watched as the dance continued. Suddenly, it was as if a wave of recognition reached him. Was that the Stable Master, Lord Faeldor? Indeed it was! However strange, thought the cavalry member. He did not know that he was so fine in the way of dance. Perhaps he assumed him to be more rugged than this for his position as head of stables.

Then the lady! His mind flashed back to that day a week or so ago he had seen the stable master reach and kiss her hand and cheek. It must be Gilwen. A friend of his. This greatly impressed the gentleman more, for indeed a servant rarely had the chance to acquire such skills as these!

The dance ended abruptly, though gracefully. It seemed Gilwen knew that it was to end before Master Faeldor did himself, and the music was still playing. How odd!

He flicked his eyes to his own escort for the evening, who was still twirling and moving with her own father. It did appear he had plenty of time to seek out his own friend and request a dance from her this evening. No harm could come by it. Friends often partook of dancing. It was a fine way to gain someone’s personal attention in a room full of people for some minutes. A fairly good conversation could flit between people at such a time. And Herion certainly was curious as to how she was, and it was she had come to be here. Did she not still work for the palace? Shouldn’t she then be along the wall with the other ladies of service?

It would, undoubtedly, take him much time to reach her. The people were thickly placed between them, and she did appear to be near the opposite side of the hall. But his friendly nature did not allow for him to know of her presence and not speak to her. How rude that would be!

--

“It is only befitting that my Starlight should see them with me in the nighttime.”

Gilwen smiled gently. Yes, with such a name attached to her it was quite fitting. Nonetheless, it was slightly sad that most of their time was spent together in the time when the moon was out; it did nicely, she did presume, to spur her reputation as a harlot.

“We best not risk it yet, though perhaps along in the future we will have the chance to have such fun.”



That had caused a healthy flush to cross her cheeks, though her heart began to race a bit as well. Gilwen did not grace Faeldor with an answer, for indeed she did not wish to seem impatient, or eager. Though it seemed she did not have to; the dance changed subjects for her quite nicely.

Oh, Gilwen almost regretted ending the dance, seeing the look of confusion and disappointment cloud his lovely grey eyes. Her heart sank a bit herself, and she bit back a sigh. Miriel needs him. She reminded herself tenderly. And who was she to deprive her of him? Indeed, she had been a part of his life far longer.

Faeldor concluded with agreeing she would be fine for some moments alone—though it did not seem as if he agreed wholly, and flashed eyes to Durion. She understood his hesitation; it filled her heart as well. But she could hold her own for a while.

“She looks utterly jubilant, do go to them, and give my regards. I will join you again shortly.”

Gilwen’s brown eyes followed Faeldor’s direction, and she smiled excitedly. Arien! Oh, she needed to thank her for the hard work she had put into her dress! She would most certainly give them Faeldor’s regards, as well. Her face was extremely revealing of her joyousness, though. Arien had come in the company of Lord Keann; a fine match they made. If only they could see it themselves.

Her attentions were drawn away once more as Faeldor moved in to kiss her forehead lightly, and she felt him lightly reach for her waist once more. “Enjoy yourself.” She raised her brown eyes lovingly to his and smiled gently. “I shall. When you are finished, I do believe I owe you a dance.”

And with that, she was released. She watched after him a moment, but quickly felt Durion’s gaze again and turned to meet Arien and Keann. Oh, they both looked quite fine! Well dressed, as was only expected. Oh! But together! She giggled girlishly to herself as she approached. “Arien! Lord Keann,” she said quietly as she had finally approached them.

“It is ever so good to see you,” she said truthfully, though softly. She was a timid thing, after all. And while tonight had given her a bit in the way of confidence, Gilwen was not about to release all of herself.

[Calon]

“I am no harlot.”

Calon’s cheerfulness seemed to flicker for a moment; almost blown out by the steadiness and sternness of the words. Of course she was not a harlot! Whatever had brought such a thought to her mind? He was merely jesting with her, was he not? For a moment his eyes studied her, though quickly occupied himself with his wine glass. “I assure you, my Lady. I never would have assumed such a thing.” He, of course, was blissfully unaware of how her family had been accosted with such accusations as of late, nor was he aware of Miriel’s current state.

Nonetheless, she had nothing to fear by it. For even if he had, Calon was far too free and easy to simply paint an entire family with one color; one wayward or tragic incident did not deem all the ladies of the household foul.

He was about to speak on the matter and apologize for any brashness or misconstrued words—it seemed his tongue sometimes got the better of him—but Beleth’s cheer returned to her presently, and like all men, Calon released any qualms. “I do believe I must agree,” he smiled. “Your brother has certainly bettered my evening by it.” He would not have been having near as much fun if he had been here with any other soul. Or indeed, even if he had come alone. Narbeleth was, by all accounts and standards, far more intriguing and pleasant a woman than any he had met prior. This certainly made Calon curious about her.

It was not oft that one met a lady that adored horses and a fine ride, a good laugh and had a spirit that was as wild and free as the forests he enjoyed so much. And atop it all, she was stunningly lovely. If she knew of such beauty, though, Calon did not know. She seemed not to pay it much mind if she did—which only made her all the more.

Now those had been some mighty forward thoughts. Calon was surprised by them, in truth, and quickly drowned the rest of his wine. “And I will do you the favor of letting you return home in one piece. Neither I, nor my brother, should beat you.”

Calon reacquired his good nature promptly and grinned. “And for this, Bel, I shall be eternally grateful and in your debt. You see, I should quite embarrassed if a lady did best me. Though, perhaps you could—for I would not lay a hand upon one in such a way as to defend myself.”

He let the wine glass twirl in his hand for a moment, eyeing it absently. He flashed his eyes to Beleth’s own glass—which was still somewhat full. He was a man who did love a drink, though, so he was not surprised. What he did not desire was for her to feel uncomfortable for it. “I do believe I shall try the white wine.” He mused aloud. He smiled warmly. “I do assure you I can hold my drink fine—you should not worry over me losing my senses.” It seemed his remark was heard by one of the tenders to the wine, and a glass of white wine was extended to him, and the empty one swept up again.

He held it up, as if in cheers, and took a sip. “Ah. Just as nice,” he hummed aloud, sighing in a satisfied manner. “If you do think you can stand for it, I daresay you should try this as well.” His eyes glinted. “Though I would not have you put over by it.” He, of course, knew she claimed she could hold her own drink. And, for all Calon knew, she could. Still, it seemed to be his duty of the evening to keep the air light and carefree—both of their spirits seemed to thrive in it.

“If Faeldor would have found out about that day; or that it was one of his own stable hands who had not been able to catch the hen. Well, you would have been off to a rough start in this city; that is certain. You certainly would not be enjoying this fine wine with me tonight, that is certain.”

He let out a nice laugh, and looked down at the young woman he was with. “Then how glad I am that my place has been secured properly. The last thing I would desire was a rough start. Starts are rough enough as it is!” He took yet another sip of the wine. “It would seem a shame to have had this evening robbed of you by one wily hen. Should it have caused such a thing, I would most certainly march right back out into the streets at this very moment to catch it—for if it had eluded me, it would have eluded all!” He smiled again, shifting his weight in a rather bemused fashion.

[Narbeleth]

Narbeleth was not at all uneasy for Calon to enjoy a few drinks. Indeed, if he had been a man to be well affected by the drink and know of such, he would not have bothered mentioning his tolerance, and instead just indulged. She nodded contentedly as he replaced his glass with another, and continued to sip on her own. After all, they were celebrating!

“If you do think you can stand for it, I daresay you should try this as well…Though I would not have you put over by it.” Put over by it? Narbeleth smiled, sensing that Calon continued to jest with her. She took his statement as a challenge, and pursed her lips together thoughtfully for a moment as she looked intently at the man before her, as he continued to rattle on about chicken catching. When he finished his statement, she raised her wine glass up, tilting her head back, and finishing it in a few gulps. “I should like to try the white as well,” she smiled pleasantly, as if she had not done anything out of the ordinary for a lady of her status.

She turned to the serving ladies at the table, who had seemingly been watching. The one who replaced her empty glass with a new one of white wine was smiling at her, and one of the bolder ladies who appeared to be laughing spoke up. “We have a rose wine as well, my Lady.”

“Ah, thank you,” Beleth said agreeably to the serving ladies. “I am certain we will be back to try that one next,” she nodded, her eyes glinting. The ladies turned back to the table to discuss their amusement at the matter, and compose themselves before the Mistress saw their own behavior toward the palace guests.

Narbeleth sipped on her new glass of wine before turning back to Calon. “Oh, you were correct. This one is quite heavenly,” she declared, taking another sip before she continued. “And they said they had a rose wine as well. I hope you’re ready to try that one next.” She smiled, and returned to the previous conversation, as if nothing had happened. “If there had been such a chicken roaming the streets, I believe the Steward would have the city herald to proclaim that all women and children must stay indoors until such a thing was caught. He would surely send out a herding hunting party for it. A bird of that nature would be so very dangerous! You would likely be knighted for capturing the beast. And then I would make you a pleasantly spiced chicken pie.”

The woman mused to herself that she would have to invite the man over for a chicken pie sometime.

[Boromir]

Boromir had noticed her smile. Miroesa was beaming out of excitement. He could see she was barely able to stand still. This promised to be a long and full of surprises night. Boromir let the young princess make out her choice.

When she saw her nearly jump out of excitement, he looked in the direction of her gaze before being dragged around. She had seen someone. The only one in that direction coming out of the crowd was of course the knight Dervorin. Hard not to notice him, tall as he was.

Boromir helped her get her way in the crowd but it was not easy. Being the son of the Steward, their leader, they all wanted to bow, comment or anything of the king to him. He nodded at a few of them, those he knew were of high lineage.

When he heard his cousin calling out the knight, Boromir was certain who she wanted to talk to. He brought her closer to him so he could manage to pierce the crowd while still having her around. She wanted to see him, she'll see him. And he'll be there to make sure nothing too... inappropriate would be said.

As he made his way to the knight, he found him in conversation with Durion. Boromir did not know the man much. Anyway, men were rarely sharing the attack made at their pride to their Captain. So he bowed back with respect. He let Miroesa do the talking, after all, she was the one desiring to get over here.

[Keann]

During their entry inside the palace, Keann kept telling himself not to stumble, not to stumble. He was so nervous and to add some more, Arien was clinging on his arm. He could feel her warm hand. He had no idea how he managed not to shake or turn back. Sharing that much intimacy in front of so many people.

Inside the ballroom, Keann gazed all around, making sure to spot the chairs, the tables with food and drink, and who were much too high for him to dare make a mistake around. It was Arien that cut short his thoughts. "Keann, you remember Gilwen? We'll go see her along with Faeldor, I want to see how lovely she will look wearing it! I'm so proud of this one, as proud as I am for making the princess's dress."

Keann remembered she did mentioned having to make a dress for a princess. And thanks to rumors he heard at some noble's house, he knew it was Miroesa. The young bubbly woman who came in his shop once. He tried to see her and thought having spotted her blond head walking away from the throne of the Steward at the arm of a man. But the princess was not the one Arien was really concerned about. That Gilwen. He remembered her vaguely. That young servant lady he saw at Arien's shop. And Faeldor must be the gentleman next to her.

Understanding Arien wanted to see them, Keann felt it was his duty to please her and started looking around. The fact he had seen them only once did not help. He had been so shocked that day by Faeldor's sister, Miriel, that he barely recalled how they looked like. And when you were dressed for such an event, you were making sure to look your best. So they might as well be unrecognizable. The more he looked, the more Keann felt pathetic, unable to give Arien what she desired. And because he felt that way, it became harder for him to find them.

In the end, it was Gilwen that found them. Keann startled lightly as she addressed to them. He blushed for his reaction and, with a sheepish smile, nodded to her. Keann did not dare to talk. Even if she had welcomed him as well, he knew she wanted more to talk to Arien. He made a step back, standing next to Arien. He wanted to give them space were they to talk together about things they did not want to share with anyone else.

[Arien]

Arien continued looking through the crowd. Geez, who would’ve expect it would be hard to look for someone in particular? She didn’t even want to risk herself by trying to count the number of people there was at the little dance. Probably a minimum of two hundred, she was sure of this-almost. It was a change though seeing people well dressed, showing off their prettiest jewelry and dresses, which most of them were made by Keann and herself.

“Arien! Lord Keann,”

She could hear the soft voice of her servant friend through the crowd. Aw, there she was! She thought proudly, she gazed at her work proudly. This dress was perfect for her friend! It made her look even more beautiful than she already was. Lord Faeldor surely had a good taste when it came to feminine clothes! She was proud of that man. He had managed to get Gilwen ever so happy and who knows, she could even became more sociable and out of her shell, just like she hoped Keann would do!

Her lips curled up into a smile as she watched her friend coming over to them. “Gilwen! You look absolutely stunning in that dress! I’m so proud!” She mused excitedly as she turned around her artwork because yes, the dress was a pure piece of art!

“It is ever so good to see you,”

Arien’s smile became brighter at her friend’s comment and she stopped doing her little examination of her piece of art. “It is good to see you too!” She said patting her friend on the shoulder lightly. Arien was known to be a lady with manly manners but she didn’t care about how people would judge her, anyways, it was her friends. It wasn’t as if she was greeting Lord Boromir with a tap on the back (tough she would have the guts to do such a thing).

“Lord Faeldor must be pleased seeing you so beautifully tonight!” she added, her smile never leaving her lips. She let out a small giggle and glanced at Keann sensing he was a little …tensed, maybe her feminine senses were wrong but heh, she discreetly rubbed the side of his arm with her index and gave him a warm smile.

[Gilwen]

“Gilwen! You look absolutely stunning in that dress! I’m so proud!”

Gilwen beamed proudly. She was ever so pleased that Arien adored the dress upon her. Certainly, in the serving woman’s opinion, someone far fairer could have made this dress all the prettier. But if the seamstress was pleased by its finished state, well, Gilwen should be as well. She was about to say something in response, but Arien continued—which was well, for the servant was normally lax in words.

“Lord Faeldor must be pleased seeing you so beautifully tonight!”

Such a color spread across her cheeks, and the woman cast her eyes shyly to the stone floor. “Oh…he is.” She murmured quietly in response, biting her lip a bit to keep herself from smiling a little. For the quiet and reserved lady, such talk easily made Gilwen’s cheeks turn pink. So, with the color still lingering she attempted to calmly change the subject before she spoke in a way that was a bit brash. Certainly the show Faeldor had put on in the stables flashed through her mind momentarily, and the woman was entirely embarrassed.

“You truly are a wonderful dressmaker,” she complimented, raising her eyes once more to look upon the woman. “And a good secret keeper as well,” she added with a small smile. Gilwen had certainly seen her since the dress had been ordered—she must have. Still, not a single mention of the piece had been brought to her ears.

Oh, but it had been so lovely to learn of it this evening! She was at the ball! Her first, precisely. And to have Arien’s handiwork as her dress seemed to make the evening all the more special. She did not quite know how to continue or what to say further. Her confidence began to slip a bit, for indeed the woman was overly quiet and timid around those she did not know well—the room was full of them—and the only two other people she knew aside from Arien were off on their own. Faeldor had stepped outside, and Beleth was off with her own escort somewhere.
“Gilwen,” a voice called. Instantly the woman startled and looked toward the sound of the voice. Herion, it seemed, was picking his way toward her in the crowd. He was a tall, handsome young man with deep brown eyes and brown hair; dressed in the uniform of the cavaliers, there was no mistaking his profession.

He bowed to Arien and Keann and said in a friendly manner, “I am terribly sorry, my Lord and Lady.” He smiled. “I did not mean to intrude,” he looked back to Gilwen and smiled.

It seemed that he was waiting for her to introduce him, and Gilwen flushed all the more as she said quietly and quickly, “Arien, Lord Keann, please meet Lord Herion.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said warmly to both offering another short bow of the head.

[Keann]

To see Arien smile like that. It was probably the most beautiful vision keann ever had seen. Not that she wasn't smiling, she was, but with all her work and her attitude, to see her that radiant was a balm to the heart. Keann even found himself contemplating her, mouth slightly open, the lips curled up at their corners to form a somewhat smile.

And there she was, chatting with that friend of her, that lovely Gilwen who looked, just as Arien said, ravishing in that gown. Made most certainly by Arien, Keann thought. But his attention was first and foremost on Arien. Arien smiling, laughing. Arien happy, socializing. Arien... who was just now looking at him. He blushed some and lowered his head. He didn't really want her to see him stare like this at her. It would be inappropriate.

He startled some as he felt her index on his arm. A bolt of energy ran through his arm to his spine, making him shiver for the briefest moment. Could someone really make that effect on another person? What was it anyway, desire, fear, surprise or embarrassment? Keann decided to think of it another day. He would already have to make the biggest efforts to dance with Arien, if his mind was elsewhere, it could become a disaster.

Suddenly, a man approached. Keann frown. This was not that Faeldor guy. But he couldn't just yet put on a name on the face. He bowed back as he did so. It wasn't because he was a stranger to him that Keann had to have poor manners. After all, thanks to his gown, it was obvious he was a cavalier. And you don't misbehave in front of a cavalier.

“Arien, Lord Keann, please meet Lord Herion.”

Keann looked once more at him after Gilwen introduced him to them. So now he had a name. Still, Keann had no idea what was connecting him to them. He supposed he was there for Gilwen, after all, he waited for her to introduce him. He bowed his head once more at the man and waited to see how things would go.