•●•●•●•

The feeling of a dress of rough cotton or wool, brown or grey or even a kind of dark, burnt-looking orange, was one that I was well used to. It especially came to the fore when I was sewing - to feel the beautiful, soft as butter silk in my arms made me feel especially envious of the woman who would eventually wear it.

The idea that I would wear a dress like the ones I made instead of the ones I wore seemed an awful waste. I'd never in my life worn anything prettier than my purple shawl, and that was goodness only knew how old. It was so long that I'd actually fashioned something for myself that it  was a strange thing, spending hours doing something purely for my own benefit. My hands shook as I made the first cut of the expensive silk, nearly making a wrong cut.

When I finally slipped on my new dress though, I shivered with delight at the feeling of the layered silk draped across my body. I'd made it myself, of course, and tried it on already on numerous occasions, but this was the first time I could wear it without anxiously waiting for it to tear at the hems or to be pricked by hundreds of needles.

I wanted it to be purple, but not the same purple as my best shawl, which was such a precise shade of deep, royal purple that I hadn't bothered to find a matching shade for my dress. Instead it was a light lavender, very simple with only minimal embroidery - but I felt like a queen. It swept down in four layers to my ankles, cleverly concealing the soft but ugly leather of my boots - and when I put it on, I could not help but twirl around my bedroom like a child's spinning top, feeling the skirts whirl out and rustle softly, brushing against my legs when I halted abruptly. Instead of bunching up my shawl and covering my hair, I draped it over my shoulders instead, to show off my hair, coiled and plaited and pinned into place by Amira's expert fingers into braids.

For once I was grateful that Miss Derwin did not own a looking glass big enough for me to see all of myself in, else I would have missed the Harvest Feast entirely, admiring my dress and the feel of the cool silk on my skin. I could linger no longer, though - Malbeth was waiting for me.

•●•●•●•

"Truly, Harmindon's finest," Malbeth teased as we set off.

"Do you mean the dress, or me?" I shot back. Malbeth smiled at my boldness.

"I'd rather leave it to your imagination."

The streets were thronged with people. Little children carried armfuls of firewood for bonfires, getting in the way of burly men setting out heavy trestle tables. Women dashed to and fro with rather stresses expressions, heaving along massive jugs of sweet-smelling cider and baskets of bread. Cheerful chatter and calls of welcome rang through the air, and there was a decidedly festive atmosphere in the hustle and bustle. In the far distance beyond the mountains the first stars were beginning to make an appearance, and the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon, turning the sky the colour of my dress. In an hour or two there would be a rare sunset that rivalled those in Harmindon.

I was used to speaking softly to Malbeth, so as not to wake the townspeople in the early morning. In this crowd, though, this was impossible. It was strange at first to speak with such an unusually raised voice, but as there were so many people nobody looked twice when I asked ridiculous questions, and so I relaxed slightly.

"What are they?"

"They're pumpkins, a kind of vegetable. You get very nice soup from it, this time of the year."

"Really?" I wondered aloud, wrinkling my nose at the suspiciously large, orange vegetable. Malbeth was so used to my lack of knowledge that all he did was grin slightly. "And what are these tiny things?" I ran my hand through an abandoned sack of tiny seeds.

"Sunflower seeds. They're used to make oil, which is very important for cooking, but some people like to eat them whole with their meal if they can afford them."

It continued in this fashion until we reached the Merethrond, the vastness and splendour of which shut me up so effectively Malbeth had to laugh.

It wasn't so much the grandness of the hall that intimidated me - I was getting used to new things - but the people. The eye of an experienced seamstress was automatically drawn toward people's clothes in everyday life - but now it took immense willpower not to seem like I was staring, which I was sure all this high-and-mighty folk wouldn't like.

As opposed to a crowd of wealthy Haradrim, who would immediately catch one's eye in an explosion of bright coloured and golden necklaces, these people were so tall and elegant, clothed in pleasing pale colours. And as opposed to the crowd of people in the streets below, noisy and cheerful, these people chatted quietly, with tinkling, polite laughs, skirts swishing softly as they mingled with others. I hung onto Malbeth, feeling as if he was the only pool of water in a dry and empty desert.

They nodded at Malbeth every now and then, but either ignored me completely or glanced curiously in my direction, whispering to their companions.

"What now?" I asked, looking at a lady in a dress of wonderfully fitted primrose yellow, and thinking whether my dress - that had seemed so impressive only half an hour ago in the candlelit bedroom - lived up to such a standard.

"Now, we socialise until the king makes his entrance, only then can we eat."

"What does that mean?" I whispered, agonised, feeling that every eye must be upon me.

"It means, we walk around and talk to people."

"But I don't know any people -"

"You will, by the end of tonight. Follow me." Malbeth strode off purposefully towards a group of older men. Most drifted away as he approached, but one remained and stood his ground.

The man, upon seeing us, smiled in such a way that I instantly felt safe. Though there was considerably more grey in his curls than brown, his clear blue eyes were more friendly and welcoming than most faces I'd seen tonight, surrounded by laughter lines. His face - his face - I'd seen it before.

I saw his face every day.

"Good evening, my son," he said, raising his arms slightly. I hung back as Malbeth greeted his father, remembering what Túrien said the other week -

All kinds of important lords and ladies from all over Gondor....

even Pelargir....

Lieutenant Malbeth Medlithorion....

"Malbeth, don't forget your lady," Lord Medlithor reminded his son, directing his smile at me this time. It was so infectious I found myself smiling back shyly. "Introduce her to me."

"Oh, yes. Jeddah, this is my father, Lord Medlithor of Pelargir. Father, meet Jeddah of - of Harmindon."

"Harmindon's finest," I muttered, only loud enough for Malbeth to hear. He nearly choked on air.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Jeddah.  Malbeth waxes lyrical about you in his letters home." Lord Medlithor waved off my clumsy attempt at a curtsey and shook my hand cordially instead.

"He does, does he?" I raised my eyebrows, grinning. Malbeth protested.

"I might have mentioned you once or twice -"

"Indeed," I drawled. Lord Medlithor was in silent stitches.

Soon, King Aragorn and Queen Arwen made their entrance along with their family and the Steward's.

I remembered my first sight of Queen Arwen. Though she had been stunningly beautiful even in the bedroom in the Ramyah's palace, she was even more so here, where she belonged - almost glowing with radiance. And there was another.

"Who is that with Prince Eldarion?" I grabbed Malbeth's elbow to steady myself as I stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear - but I was not the only one this time.

"That's Galieth - Lady Galieth, I mean to say."

"Why does she make such a sensation?" I wanted to know.

"She was once Princes Eruthiawen's lady's maid," Malbeth explained, but I was still clueless. I didn't want to press it, though - I could see Lord Medlithor watching from the corner of his eye and didn't want to seem entirely stupid in front of him.

"And is that the King of Rohan?" I asked, unable to help myself. Malbeth nodded and put his finger to his lips, but I was so fascinated by the young king who so resembled the picture I had in my mind of his late father that I almost missed the beginning of the king's speech.

"Tonight," King Aragorn began, and the hall grew, if possible, even more silent, "We celebrate and offer gratitude for all with which we have been blessed."

Throughout King Aragorn's speech, everyone listened respectfully. I assume he spoke of much that was worth listening to - but the words he used were so grand and different to the everyday Westron I was used to that after some time my mind shut down and I could not understand a word. I was very much caught between trying desperately to understand and trying to seem as though I did understand in the eyes of all these grand Gondorian folk.

Then everyone was turned to me - and I jumped.

After a moment I realised they were not looking at me - they looked at Malbeth, who rose to his feet beside me. He stood straight and tall, as always, but he went rather red under the eyes of so many people. I hadn't even noticed his name being called.

King Aragorn spoke again, and I groaned internally. Now I would have no chance to understand what was being said. His deep, majestic voice filled the hall for quite a while, praising Malbeth to the skies or condemning him to the depths of hell for all I understood. Being so out of my place, among total strangers, did not help the matter.

Malbeth hesitated to answer, though. When he did, I understood his familiar voice perfectly -

"Your Grace.... truly, such an offer humbles me beyond words."

Offer? What offer? How I hated not knowing anything....

"If I may though, I would ask to delay my acceptance, for now at least." His eyes flicked down to me for such a quick moment anyone else would have thought he'd only blinked. I began to get worried as well as confused.

"Please, my lord, I would very much like to continue to serve Gondor and its royal house as a lieutenant of the City Guard. No soldier could wish for a better captain than Prince Eldarion, and I would not end my service under  his command until my years demand it. Besides -" his eyes flicked down again - "I do not feel as though I have the wisdom yet that befits a Lord of Gondor." He grinned.

"Please, Malbeth," I whispered urgently when the speeches continued and he'd sat down, even though the king was honouring our Lord Sufyan. "Tell me what happened. I did not understand a word. I heard your name but not much else."

"I'm being honoured," Malbeth said simply, staring at the tablecloth, still with a smile on his face. There was something strange in his voice - a catch I did not recognise.

"But this is good, is it not? Everyone applauded." I sat back in relief.

"It's - good, yes. It is very good."

"Are you being honoured because you were brave? What did you say to the king?"

Malbeth refused to speak until the speeches were over and folk began to eat, though I continued to pester him in a very determined whisper.

"Jeddah -"

His voice was still strange. I put down my soup spoon.

"For my loyalty and bravery I have been presented with the lordship of Erynos."

"How lovely!" I answered dutifully. "What does that mean?"

Malbeth laughed, a genuine smile crossing his face. "It means that - if it is my wish, the lordship of all the lands from the mountains to the mouth of the River Sirith shall be the mantle of me and my heirs. That's what the king said."

"But you said you will delay the offer. Why? This will surely be tremendous. It sounds like an awful lot of land - and you'll sit in with the council meetings!" I squeezed his arm.

"This is precisely the problem, Jeddah," Malbeth said quietly, so as not to be overheard by a nearby group of rather raucous dwarves. With immense willpower I kept my eyes from them and glared at Malbeth until he continued.

"It is an awful lot. As I told the king, I'm not ready. And besides -"

"Go on," I demanded.

"If I - if - if I leave for Erynos, who will you talk to at unearthly hours in the morning?"

Realisation hit me like a blow to the head and I was stunned into silence, for not the first time that evening.

"You -" I had to clear my throat - it was rather croaky with disbelief. "By the Stars. You gave up your lordship of Erynos for me."

Malbeth shrugged. It wasn't a very interesting tablecloth, though evidently it seemed so to him.

"Me! Me! Are you mad, Malbeth?!" I stammered. "I'm barely accepted here as a seamstress, let alone a proper society lady - you can't love me. It's not possible. I'm from Harmindon. Harad. Not exactly a popular place here."

"That didn't stop her," Malbeth muttered, jerking his head towards the high table, where Lady Túrien sat laughing with Sufyan, looking carefree and happy. "Jeddah, do you love me?"

I was silent.

All around us, people talked cheerfully, eating their food with the impeccable manners expected of well-bred Gondorian people. Nobody paid the slightest heed to our little interaction. Lord Medlithor caught my eye and smiled again - he hadn't heard either. Good.

"Jeddah, speak, please. I need to know if I'm doing the right thing."

"I think I do."

Malbeth looked up, astonished, staring straight ahead. "Say that again."

"No," I said firmly. "You heard me."

"I don't think I did," he replied cheekily, a smile slowly beginning to spread across his face.

"Oh, for the sake of the Golden Serpent, who seems almost nonexistent here," I hissed, but for the first time, it was without anger. "I love you, Lieutenant Malbeth Medlithorion of Pelargir, with all my heart, and if you make me say it again, I will take this bowl of soup and pour it over your head, King Aragorn and his seven hundred noble guests or no King Aragorn and his seven hundred noble guests."

Malbeth smiled so brightly he did not even laugh at me.

•●•●•●•

I floated home on a cloud, I was that elated. Once I had voiced my true feelings aloud they seemed to become a reality, I really did love Malbeth - and he loved me. I understood Thekla properly for the first time - and I longed to have her with me, to whisper into her ear and tell her all about my love.

Malbeth and I had sneaked out of the Merethrond as early as was polite, and we went down to our well in the dark starry night to talk and talk to our heart's content. And I did kiss him, though this almost overloaded my senses and I fled home immediately afterwards.

I looked into my darkened reflection and saw that I was beaming - it was an expression not often seen on my face and I rather thought it suited me.

It was only then I noticed a letter on my bed, with Miarka's distinctive almost illegible scrawl on the cover. Miss Derwin must have brought it up before the evening post. I flung myself onto my bed to read it by candlelight, heedless of the beautiful lavendar silk dress, and almost giggled with lighthearted glee as I slit the envelope open with my fingernail - in my troubled life, I'd never felt happier. I began to read.

•●•●•●•

Dear Jeddah,

Two days ago, Grandmother's heart failed.

By a miracle, and the quick response of Lady Riyadh - who happened to pass by - she lives still, but is not at all well.

Please, please, please come home - I'm so afraid.

If anything happens, I don't want to be alone.

Your sister,

Miarka

•●•●•●•