[Elora]

Before the Luncheon

The buzz of busy tongues around her was more appetizing than the fare before her. Ruiel smiled gravely from time to time, as women turned to her to confirm what Dryea had started the day before.

"Yes, I have heard as much myself," she confessed worridley as though she loathed the spectacle of gossip.
"Is it true that you and your daughters spent some time in Dol Amroth?"

A younger, less schooled lady leaned forward with her question, her hair narrowly missing immersion in her tea as she did so. Ruiel fixed a reproachful stare upon the woman and only when the other's cheeks burned with embarrassment at her guiless and unsophisicated question did Ruiel set down her own delicate porcelin cup and answered.

"Yes, I have estates in Dol Amroth. They were established by my dear husband, shortly before his untimely death." Playing her role to the hilt with the innate instinct of a consumate actress, Ruiel placed a hand over her heart as if grief still tugged painfully within her breast. Her eyes lowered to the snowy white of the tablecloth before her as part of her performance. Around her, murmurs of condolence and blessing for his apparently beloved and departed soul ebbed like a tide. The young woman sat back, chastened by her apparant gaffe and the stiff glare of disapproval bestowed upon her by her chaperone.

Inwardly, Ruiel thanked the girl for the opportunity and fought against an ironic smile that here, in Minas Tirith, she was playing the role of grieving widow who had remained widow all the long years. Had those who lowered their heads respectfully that she had celebrated her years of freedome as fully as she had resented all the labourious years of marriage to a short-sighted and dimwitted imbecile.

"I knew Findulias as a young girl," Ruiel said when the mockery had gone on long enough and her smile threated to break through her mask of seemly grief. She picked up her tea cup and placed it against her lips, sipping the fragrant tea and studying the women seated around her across its rim.

"Was she beautiful then, Lady Ruiel?" Ah, another innocent to gild my way Ruiel turned to the child, seated next to an overly proud mother who smiled upon her daughter's banal and henceforth harmless question in relief that her daughter had not disgraced herself as the last young lady had.

Relief at the lightening of subject shimmered through the gathering of women. The red cheeks of the tactless lady became darker again. "Yes, even as a child, young Finduilas was so beautiful. So pure, she was, against all that lay in her family's past. So much darkness, and yet she shone undimmed and unsullied."

Ruiel added a nostalgic sigh for good effect and sipped at her cup as she waited for her words to sink in. The more astute, intelligent, or just plain viscious amongst them siezed her admittedly thin hook swiftly. Having finished her tea, Ruiel delicately dabbed at her lips with her lacy napkin and rose. She bestowed vacous blandishments upon upturned and sometimes expectant faces, gathered her skirts and began an unhurried and stately departure of the Dining Hall.

It came as no surprise that one woman in particular followed her. Ruiel amused herself by causing the woman to rush in order to catch her up within the hothouse confines of the Dining Hall. Such gossip was unthinkable in the halls of the Steward's House. Yet, they were insulated and united by their doubt and mistrust here in the Dining Room, and the absense of clod headed men who invariably interrupted such delights as gossip. It came as no surprise to Ruiel that the gossip was particularly vengeaful whilst the women were free of male interference. The most heady pleasure of rumour was hearing something that meant your advantange and your opponent's woe.

"Lady Ruiel, will you be attending the Luncheon today?" The woman that had rushed after her was somewhat short of breath. Ruiel turned in contrived surprise, delighting in the other's gasping. So desperate, she thought with distinct satisfaction.

"Indeed I shall," Ruiel replied with a kindly smile. "Perhaps we can converse further then." The other woman nodded, eyes bright with poorly concealed curiosity.
"Yes, yes... there was one thing further," she said as she drew conspiratorially closer to Ruiel.
"It will need to be brief. I have much to do prior to the Luncheon," Ruiel replied without a trace of a lie for a rare change.
"You mentioned darkness in Finduilas' past. Is that why she has changed her identity?"

Ruiel smiled at the woman as if she was a fool, and she was. Ruiel did not make allowances for the woman's inability to know just whom she huddled with now.
"Is there ever a happy reason to cast off one's heritage," she answered with another question that the woman siezed upon with rapturous delight.
"Indeed... but what heritage can be so dark," she said in open speculation. The fire was well and truly alight now.

"Hard to imagine, but then our ancestors could scarcely imagine the grief and suffering when Ar-Pharazon usurped the throne and declared war," Ruiel replied. She would never say that Finduilas was descended from such stock directly. Her face was marked with sadness at the history of Numenor, but she held the other woman's gaze with intense force. The other frowned at the historical reference to blindness at first. When Ruiel continued to stare at the woman, her expression cleared and dawning comprehension appeared like dawn in her face.

Already, she was leaping to conclusions at an alarming speed. A speed that would certainly trip even the Steward and have him sprawl upon his face in the aftermath.

"If you would excuse me, Madame," Ruiel gently reminded the other woman who was now lost in the murky depths of her supposition, fueled by manufactured lies. Artfully maufactured, Ruiel allowed herself to admit. She left the Dining Hall and traced her path back to the Guests Quarters where her temporary room was located in a high and bright mood.

Ränne was already busy, laying out undergarments suitable for the dress Ruiel would wear to Pelion's Luncheon. The other woman was familiar with Ruiel's long running competition with Lady Pelion. Pelion was a formidible opponent, even if Pelion herself only half knew the woman who opposed her. Beneath a facade of courtly pleasantries, beneath Ruiel's sarcastic rejoinders concerning Pelion, lay an deep and abiding respect. She would never underestimate Pelion, and Ränne knew she would perhaps give more thought to dressing for her Luncheon than she would a court appearance.

Ränne looked up as Ruiel entered and rushed a curtsy, still with her gown lain across her arms as if cradled.

"A fine day, Ränne. A fine day," Ruiel said simply. On the floor lay a finely made trunk into which Ränne had started to pack belongings not required for the luncheon. Ruiel noted it with satisfaction. She had made herself clear that morning that following the engagement at Pelion's, she wished herself, her daughters and their retinue to make a speedy departure. Ruiel was never comfortable with leaving her private manor in Minas Tirith unoccupied for too long - rather like a spider and her web.

She bombarded Ränne with questions as the other woman worked.

"Are Dryea and Alethea ready, Ränne? I have seen neither today and they had best not be lying idle. What of the other maids? I have not seen a scrap of their hides either? Consorting with guard rabble, no doubt."

Ränne replied with cautious and prompt, "Yes, m'Lady" or "No, m'Lady" as appropriate. High spirits could turn in any direction. Ruiel herself bent over the desk again, fitted the key to it and collected the papers. With care, she stowed them into a leather pouch. She located a key stored in her jewellry chest, secured the pouch and held it out to Ränne.

"I know I can rely on you to see these safely delivered," she said with a iron glance.
"Yes, m'Lady," Ränne replied gravely. Ruiel never entertained the risk that footpads would come across her work whilst they rifled through stolen baggage. It was an error she had seen others made. A footpad will turn informant if it gets him money, or unties the noose from around his neck, faster than a Corsair captian will snatch up a comely looking lass. That brought Ruiel's thoughts back to Ränne, who was presently standing behind her and tightening the laces of her corset.

"How is Findulias today, Ränne?" Ruiel felt her fingers still on the laces a moment and then resume their work.
"She is well, m'Lady. Feeling a little isolated and perhaps homesick," Ränne said, pausing intermittently to tie the laces where necessary.

"As well she might," Ruiel purred as she ran her hands over her corseted hips in satisfaction. She allowed her gown to be fastened around her, a russet silk that offset her deep auburn hair. Ränne brought the jewellry box to Ruiel.

"The rubies, I think," Ruiel said offhandedly and allowed the necklace to be fastened around her neck. She was preoccipied with a number of other matters now that her pleasure at events over breakfast had receded somewhat. As her hair was pinned into place with the last ruby tipped pin, Ränne stood back to study the effect. Ruiel was garbed in her habitual opulent luxury, an altogether intimidating picture of noble authority that she wore like armour.

Ruiel studied the effect in the mirror a moment, and added the final touch of her dagger as Ränne turned to resume packing.

"Arrange for our luggage to be returned to the Manor as soon as all is ready, Ränne. You know which porters to trust. Take the pouch yourself and see to it's protection lest you wish to meet the fate of your last master."

Ränne blanched a little, both at mention of the Captain and what Ruiel had done to him those years ago. She nodded and Ruiel allowed her to continue, satisfied that the woman would do as instructed. Ruiel stood at the window, mind rolling with other thoughts as Ränne folded skirts, bodices, underskirts all carefully so as not to crease.

"Findulias will start to feel more and more chilled, I imagine Ränne. That should work to your advantage well. The rumours are developing apace, and she will find need of a friendly face. You will be well placed to direct her accordingly, provided Dryea can be roused from wherever she has gotten off to in order to do her part!"

There was a snap in Ruiel's voice as she considered her daughter. Given her notable absence that morning, she would need to apprise Dryea and Alethea of developments in the rumour, an inconvenience at the least. Ränne looked up from where she knelt by the timber trunk.

"What rumours, m'Lady," she asked. Ruiel turned, smiling in open happiness.
"The rumour that Findulias is concealing her true identity because she is descended from Ar-Pharazon," Ruiel said with patent happiness. At such moments, she was animated and alive, a fierce hunger in her deep blue eyes that her dead husband had never seen.

Ränne looked stunned, and then saw Ruiel's cynical smile. She echoed it herself. Ruiel bestirred herself and gathered her russet skirts to walk Ränne in a whisper. "I will trust you to ensure my daughters are in attendance at the Luncheon Ränne. When the luggage is organised, come yourself. I want your eyes and ears there."

Ruiel reached the door as Ränne realised this was the second direct assignment that Ruiel had given her in as many days with pleasure and a frisson of excitment tangled with some apprehension.

"Oh, one more thing. Should Shir be seen anywhere near my daughters, either one mark you, inform me immediately!" By the time Ränne looked at where Ruiel had stood, Ruiel was out of the door and well on her way to Pelien's luncheon. Yet the unmistaken threat in her mistress' voice did not confirmation. Ränne shook her head at it and picked up the next skirt. How to help Dryea without defying Ruiel... it was a tight bind she had herself in.

So much to do... the packing, dressing the girls, finding trustworthy porters and attending the luncheon! Ränne closed the trunk at last, checked the room for anything missed and sped out of the door with pouch in hand to muster up the other maids and daughters. So much to do...

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]