[Imladris]

Arshalous buried her black head into the scarlet cushions that decorated her bed and pounded them with her fist. She did not want to go to the banquet tonight. There were too many people at banquets and they made her stomach upset.

She sat up and swallowed determinedly, wiping her nose as she did so and looked about her chambers. Bright murals depicting battles and fine ladies languishing in green gardens adorned her walls. The floor was a mosaic forest scrubbed clean by her serving girl. White gauze, wafting down from golden rods, surrounded her bed to protect her from the buzzing bugs that roamed in the night.

Slipping off her bed, she went to her wardrobe and selected a silken dress of emerald green edged with pale pink. She slipped into it, found her soft leather sandals, and called,"Semra! Semra!"

A small girl of fourteen hurried from another room, bowed, and said softly, "Yes, my lady?"

She glanced up at Arshalous, her round brown eyes flickering with a trace of fear. Her mohagany hair was tied back in a nest of braids, and her brown feet were bare. She was a servant, brought to the house yesterday.

"How may I serve you?" she asked in a high voice.

"Sit," said Arshalous, patting the edge of the bed as she began to comb her hair. "There is a banquet tonight."

There was a short pause and Semra bit her lip nervously. "Is that why you are dressed so lovely?"

"Naturally," said Arshalous with a scowl. Tossing the brush away so that it skittered across the bed and tumbled to the floor, Arshalous took a case of kohl and began to put a heavy layer around her eyes.

"Why?" asked Semra tentatively. Arshalous saw her trace the silken design of the silken coverlets.

"Emissaries from the West," said Arshalous shortly. "We must honour and welcome them."

"You don't think we should?" asked Semra.

"Oh no, it's an excellent idea," said Arshalous. "If we didn't they would become offended (even though there really is no reason to be offended) and war could be declared and we wouldn't want that...well, maybe the army would but that's just because they have restless spirits. I just don't want to go to the banquet. People get so roudy at banquets..." She glowered darkly. "Could you fetch me a scarf?" she asked absently.

Semra slid off the bed and dashed to an ornate dressar. Carven vines curled around the elgs, delicate flowers were etched into the golden handles. Semra selected a white scarf from one of the drawers and draped around Arshalous's head. "You look beautiful," she said.

Arshalous rolled her eyes. "No I am not...but thank you."