A December Day [Miroesa]

[Remlas]

It was December, and the air was chilled and piercing. Despite the sun overhead, Remlas of Belfalas was cloaked and covered, but his skin tingled with the dance of the wind. It was crisp; the colors of the White City seemed awash with a grey stain, dulled though not lost. It was quite a morning, and Remlas found it exciting.

Perhaps he had held reservations when his grandfather summoned him to Minas Tirith to take over the family business of blacksmithing here in the city. For a while, the man was unsure if he wanted to go so far from his beloved Belfalas. Still, he felt drawn—as if the man knew on some level of his being that fate awaited him there in that towering White City. Fate beyond his reckoning or understanding.

Calon had spoke only good of the city, and as the two brothers were alike in zeal and character, it was quite easy for Remlas to be convinced that he would adore the city as well. Though, Remlas had an inkling that it was not the city so much that his younger brother enjoyed as it was the lady he had declared he would marry someday.

Perhaps that was why Remlas had come.

Whatever fate or design had called him to Minas Tirith had led him to be no more than a messenger today. His grandmother had been insistent that he bring Calon a hot meal—and despite the fact Remlas and his grandfather thought perhaps she was being a bit overprotective, the eldest son of Istor had obliged. A jar of hot soup in hand, Remlas had begun to make his way to the palace stables.

It was not a long walk, but already the soup was beginning to cool. Remlas would have to remind Calon to tell grandmother it was perfect anyway—the woman loved them so.

When he finally reached the stables, it was rather busy. There were stablelads, grooms, a tall man that Calon had pointed out on his previous visit that Remlas knew to be the Stable Master, but the blacksmith saw no sign of his brother.

He began to pace his way down the stalls, trying to weave in and out of people’s way, avoid collision and retain his invitation to be there. Blue eyes strained against all the people, watching for the familiar head of brown curls bobbing amongst the others. Calon surely did not have the day off—he had left early that morning. He had to be there somewhere.

[Princess Miroesa]

Being in the company of her two cousins, Boromir and Faramir had changed the mood of Miroesa slightly but at times, she would still remember of the war that had happened back at her home and forced her back to Mineas Tirith before she got killed. She had been announced of her death shortly after it happened. She missed her dear mother, quite clearly, and she didn’t have much people to talk to- or at least, she didn’t have many females to talk to and she knew that her cousins weren’t the most understandable creatures of the world. Not when it came to emotions and the sorts. Faramir was a little better though, but Boromir was busy with his wars and fights. She didn’t want to be a nuisance despite how cherry she could get when she was in a good mood.

Not to add that servants didn’t particularly want to talk to her- she intimidated them with her status it was why she decided she would spend the day in the stables, with her horse and just be Miroesa, not a princess, just a girl who wanted to find comfort somewhere. It was rather coldish out there in December though, and she was glad that she had brought clothes that would prevent her from freezing.

She was wearing a light blue dress and a navy blue cloak that would keep her warm and made a nice contrast to her clothes. She put the hood onto the top of her head and walked her way to the stables. The people who worked there would recognize her due to her small size but anyone else would barely know she was the princess, which was the impression she wanted to give until she reached her pure white horse she had called Starlight. She approached it and sighed, grabbing a brush and started brushing it’s hair.

“You know, I wish you could talk to me sometimes, you’re the only decent female company I have around.” She commented with a slight frown. “Do you think mother is watching me while sitting on the clouds?” She asked with a soft voice. Who knows, perhaps she did.

[Remlas]

Remlas skirted around a rather careful lad with a horse on lead, though found himself pushed and driven toward the stalls, being forced farther and farther toward the side of the hall.

“Excuse me, milord,” a lad offered.

“My apologies,” Remlas grunted in reply. He stumbled, working his way forward some more. He could not help but think the stables were unnecessarily busy this day, though it was probably anything but. Perhaps new mounts were coming in, perhaps new stable hands were being trained—either way, Calon and the Stable Master were surely not letting anyone unnecessary in.

“Do you think mother is watching me while sitting on the clouds?”

Remlas paused, casting his ocean eyes over his shoulder. He was, without question, slightly startled by the fact that someone had been in the stall at all. Normally, he would have been content to ignore the voice, to live his life a bit distant from whoever was speaking. It was not that Remlas was happy to ignore, but that Remlas was happy to not pry. Still, there was some sadness in the tone that worried him, and the man paused outside the stall and looked inside.

There was a lovely woman inside, with hair gold like the sunlight, standing with a beautiful mare. The woman’s graceful slope of her chin, the almond eyes and flowing waves of hair looked familiar. As if he had seen her somewhere. Perhaps a dream, perhaps a day long lost. That made the sadness he heard all the worse.

“My lady,” he began, before he was really certain he should speak.

“I, uh, I do not wish to intrude,” he added hurriedly. “But…is there something that troubles you? I—could not help but….” Remlas was, perhaps, fumbling over his words for his sudden nervousness. He had no idea who this woman was, or how he might know her, but he worried that perhaps she would take offense to his intrusion.

“…You look familiar,” he offered finally. “My name is Remlas.”

[Princess Miroesa]

Miro didn’t expect anyone to be in the stall along with her and Starlight. She was enjoying her time with her horse, trying not to forget about the scary murder her mother had been the victim off. It was hard to forget and she knew it but she didn’t think that Boromir would enjoy having a talk with her about such things. Being the only female of the place had its downsides and it was one of them; she had no one to talk to, no confident, no friend except for her horse and then again, it didn’t count.

She startled when she saw the man, tall one, talk to her. She had to admit she was a little embarrassed of her childish phrase; she was supposed to be the authority, a princess and there she was, talking like a child to a horse. Even if she remembered that she was just going to be Miroesa, without the title, it was still embarrassing. A light blush tinted her cheeks as her thoughts proceeded she thought about blaming the temperature if she was questioned it of.

She stayed close to her horse, listening to the newcomer as he spoke, showing his worry towards her. It was a kind gesture, really, but at this point, she didn’t think anything could be done because after all; her dear mother was with the stars, dancing in the sky. Speaking of which, she was certain that a new star was born that night, when she looked at the sky.

She had to admit however that this man here looked familiar to her too but as a princess, she had seen many people and even if she would sometimes try to go play with the ‘normal people’ they would always find out who she was and it made things touchy afterwards.

Remlas…she thought as he said his name. It did sound oddly familiar. She stared at him, for a while, studying him; he didn’t look as if he was a noble. It was worth a try to be normal for once. “And mine is Miroesa.” She introduced herself with a little bow as the well manners thought her. “I would lie if I said that nothing was troubling me. I have come to this city to ease the sadness of my heart a loss caused.” She explained. Perhaps, her fancy talk was what blew her cover away half the time.

[Remlas]

“Miroesa,” Remlas repeated, for a moment finding the name as familiar as the woman’s fair appearance. “It is a pleasure,” he added thoughtfully, not wishing to be seen as rude. Was she blushing? She was certainly startled, and that much Remlas could understand—he certainly could have appeared to have come from nowhere.

“I would lie if I said that nothing was troubling me. I have come to this city to ease the sadness of my heart a loss caused.”

A great sadness? The man was immediately turned in frown. Something was heavy in the woman’s voice, and it turned the air in his lungs to lead. “I…I am terribly sorry, my lady,” he murmured.

“I…I have only just come to the city myself,” Remlas offered. “I hail from Belfalas…and come to take my grandfather’s smithy under my own command.” It certainly was not something fancy, it was not anything formal or elegant. In fact, Remlas mused he sounded like the worker he was. Calon was much better now than he at sounding cheerful and childlike. His brother claimed he was no longer “fun”.

It was that moment that he mused perhaps he agreed.

“I do not know what sorrow has brought you here,” he offered politely. “But know that this city is long a place of hope. Perhaps for you it is a place to start afresh as well?”

[Princess Miroesa]

Miro gave to Remlas a sad smile and nodded at him; he was a fine man, polite and well mannered- just like her mother wished to settle her with. Mother, why did you have to get killed? She thought with a slight frown. She felt bad to express her pain to a stranger but she presumed that it was better to talk to the man before her instead of talking to a horse and being considered as insane. “It’s fine,” she stated. “It has been a few years already but I need time to recover from my loss.” She admitted.

She listened to him, not noticing his blush. He came from Belfalas too? Was he the only one who came from her home town? She was even surprised he didn’t remember of her…it was a good thing that years changed her. That way, she could get news from this town.

She nodded at him once. “I come from Belfalas as well but I am living with my uncle and cousins.” She told him, which was the truth, she just didn’t say that Boromir was her cousin…yet. She liked having a nice conversation without constantly be bowed at, not looked at and called princess.

“Mother has been killed in an attack from pirates a few years ago.” She explained. Surely he would remember of it if they came from the same town.

“Brother always told me that it was a greatly protected one but I do not know if my stay here will be permanent or not.” She said. Maybe, one day, they’d need her over Belfalas once again.

((Bad me, I just realized she DID see her mother’s death xD I reread her history..geez I couldn’t write decent English at that time LOL))

[Remlas]

The assertion that the woman was from Belfalas astounded Remlas; not because, perhaps, the woman looked as if she could not have come. Indeed, the woman’s fair hair and light eyes betrayed her as one of such sort of blood. It was more due to Remlas’ sudden surprise that he found someone else from his city. The smith had never thought that such lineage was rare, but here in Minas Tirith, it was very clear that many did not leave behind their lovely sea for stone.

“Mother has been killed in an attack from pirates a few years ago.”

This was even more startling, and Remlas’ face certainly betrayed his immediate startle. His cheeks lost a shade of their healthy bronze color, and his brows lifted softly, as if such a movement could help him understand. “I…I am terribly sorry for your loss,” the young man offered. For a moment, that was all he could manage, but his mind was far from idle.

She said something else, perhaps remarking on the safety of the city, but Remlas’ mind was far away. The pirates had come, they had pillaged, they had murdered. Not many had perished in the raid, but there were certainly those that had fallen in more repute. Nobles, for one. And Remlas was beginning to understand who this woman was, how he knew her and precisely what breach in propriety he had committed by addressing the lady Miroesa at all.

“M..Miroesa,” He repeated slowly, as if verifying her name. “I am sorry, Princess, I…I did not expect to find you—that is, I thought I knew you…” He stopped. “I recall your face,” he added finally, voice smooth and recovered from his surprise.

They had played, once or twice. He could no longer recall much of their time together, only finding the young Miroesa a bit of a nuisance. She had been, if he remembered rightly, hardly able to care for herself—and she had paraded herself as someone not of noble birth. Could this woman really be the same child?

“The city still mourns your mother’s passing,” he added. “But we know, as you should, that something wonderful comes from all tragedy.”

[Princess Miroesa]

Miroesa didn’t mind about telling to the man that she came from the same town as Remlas did; there was only thing that bothered her and it was when they recognized her as royalty. She never asked to have such duties, to be one of the high ranked. People envied her status, thinking that she had all the good things for herself but did they know what was the life of a princess here in Gondor? She was alone, literally; she had no company of a lady for they all looked down when she talked to them, which made her feel cheap in a way either that or they respected her so much, it made her sick. There were times where she wished to be normal and to give the royal status to someone else, but she knew that it could never happened and tried to get used to it as much as she could.

She gave him as small smile once she shared of her loss but as soon as she studied the man’s face; she knew what it meant. He understood who she was. She sighed softly. She wasn’t a normal woman anymore; reality stroke once again. She shook her head when he apologized because honestly, he didn’t need to. If only she could remain incognito but that was just a dream that could never happen.

“Do not be sorry.” She began. “Please, call me by my name sir, I never liked standards and even less to be placed on a podium.” She told him softly, which was only the truth or else, why would she be sneaking out during her younger years to play fun games with the ‘normal’ kids? They just didn’t know how great their lives were; not having to have to marry someone they might not like, not having to worry about protocols and wars and the likes. That crown, she wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp on it.

“You do not need to use formalities with me, Remlas.” She said hoping he would stop at least to call her princess. “Hopefully, you are right, I know that times have become darker and I do not intend to marry someone in order to prevent a war.” She admitted with a frown. The last thing she wanted to do was to have to marry one of these hideous creatures they called orcs. Ew dear God no, please.