Of Wraiths and Kings, and Friends and Rings (Calling All Nazgul)

[Willow Oran]

Mahtaliel raised an eyebrow, radiating skepticism.

"Indigestion? From wine?" She had never heard of wine causing indidestion, other problems yes, but not that.

Galadanunn paused, glaring, "Obviously."

[Rían]

(earlier that day...)

Tyaron and Alagos watched RÃ*an caress the grey mare. Tyaron put a warning hand on Alagos' shoulder. "Wait!", he mouthed, as the wind in the treetops played around both of them, trying to shake the leaves loudly enough to get RÃ*an to look up. He looked meaningfully down the road, where they could see another rider approaching. By the looks of it, an elven lady - perhaps a friend of RÃ*an's?

Waiting was not something either one of them normally liked, but they had learned the benefits of waiting in a hard school. And they were elves, and had all the time in Arda, now that they had found her.

Tyaron smiled softly, put a kiss in the wind, and blew it towards RÃ*an. "Aiwen..." he whispered, and this time it was Alagos who had to put out the restraining hand.

[Valandil]

Valandil stood once more, and despite some voice (was it an inner voice?) protesting, "Don't do it!" - he raised the goblet and addressed the crowd.

"I see that I have acted amiss, but please let me explain, my good hosts and all ye worthy guests. In our harsher lands to the north, it is the custom to share the cup around, to signify that we share all that we have one with another. Yet I see that here, all such provision is bountiful, and would certainly not cause offense."

"What say you then, people of Tharbad? Shall I keep to my custom this day, or shall I yield myself to the custom of the fair south?"

"Yield... YIELD!" shouted some, and others, "Quaff it all... quaff it ALL!! Drain it!" Everyone's good-natured response showed him that his transgression had been forgiven. He looked next to the Chancellor, who met his gaze, then turned to Aiwendis, who gave a subtle, yet significant gesture toward the goblet, with a nod... and the change in her face from nearly a pout to a grateful smile while he lifted the cup to his mouth again, this time drinking it to the last drop (and this time looking straight ahead - for he had noted many glances back-and-forth between himself and Earniel), assured the King that he had now done rightly.

What was this at the bottom though? How odd... a gem? Was this another odd custom of the south? He managed to secretly slip it into his mouth as he finished, then out again and into his pocket as he appeared to wipe his mouth, once he had created the humorous distraction of slamming the goblet down to the table. There... if it was their custom, it would be missed and inquired about - and he could have his little joke. If it was not their custom... well, then he would find out what it really meant.

Seated once more, he began to feel dizzy again - and quite warm. He wondered what was IN that cup.

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

Khamûl clutched his stomach in pain. One minute he had been fine then the next he felt as if he had just had a sharp dagger pushed into his abdomen.
"Are you well?" asked the elven Professer.
Khamûl held back the sarcastic insults. Of course he wasn't fine, did he look fine?
Out of the corner of his eye Khamûl noticed Udu staring, smiling at him.
'Of course, Udu,' thought Khamûl. This was a spell of the East, only Khamûl, Udu and Penny knew this spell. And Penny wouldn't do this surely. Even after his attack on Khamûl earlier on, he would never do such a thing. He was never a warrior, or one to cause pain. Even on the slope's of Orodruin he was more content to be healing hurt comrades or devising an escape plan. It must have been Udu, somehow. Maybe he had a servant deliver him the blow, but Udu had perpared it.
"How are you enjoying the festivities, old friend? Oh, sorry to see the look of distress upon your face. Must have been something you ate." said a faint voice in his head. It had no sound to it, something was blocking it. Khamûl looked to the Chancellor, who's gaze was fixed on Khamûl. He wasn't blinking and seemed oblivious to all else around him. A mind shield, impenetrable to all others. Even as this thought passed through Khamûl's mind he felt a strong presence trying to break through, to read his thought's. It was the same presence he had felt in Marthalion earlier that evening.
At that moment Khamûl saw two figures entering the room. It was Raendil and Viniglaen.
"I tried to get here as soon as I could, to let you know what they were up to," Viniglaen said Khamûl quietly. "It's just a weak gastrointestinal spell; perhaps now that you know you can counter it off. I am sorry you feel pain, my lord."
"You say you're sorry yet you have done nothing to prevent this from happening," said Khamûl in agony.
"I beg you, my lord, please do not punish them again. Please, my lord. Can you just talk to them, perhaps tomorrow, you know - give them a good 'talking to?' " replied Viv.
"I have already warned Lilaewen about this kind of behaviour. This time her fate is no longer in my hands. This time the Morgul Lord will decide he fate, and when unhapppy he is not a very nice Man to be around," answered Khamûl shortly the pain in his stomach easing up as he managed to straighten up and turn to Mahtaliel.
"Yes, yes, I am fine," he said, "I fear I sometimes get a bit of indigestion from all the rich drink at such resplendent functions!"

[Valandil]

As Valandil sat, wondering when the room would stop tilting, Aiwendis leaned over toward him and whispered softly, "You adjust well to other customs, my King."

Valandil turned slightly toward her and as he shifted himself, Aiwendis, who had been wondering about the efficacy of the drink she had given him, opened her eyes wide with wonder as she suddenly found the evidence of her craft thrust hard upon the side of her hip. 'My-oh-my... impressive! How potent!' she thought.

As he drolled on some boring thing about the necessity of adapting to the subjects from all about his realm, she stole a glance downward and blushed slightly, 'How could I be so silly?' she thought, 'it was just his sword!' and sure enough, the end of his sword handle had pressed against her when the King turned. She returned her eyes to his, nodding and smiling in reply. Yet she shifted slightly back at the thought of that particular sword... for the sight of it returned her mind once more to the terrible battle she had just been thinking of... of the blows it had made in return to the Morgul Lord's atop Mount Orodruin... in the hands of the King's father.

[Valandil]

Valandil's head was still slightly awhir. He noticed as he was speaking with Lady Aiwendis, that she had looked down to where his sword handle had lodged itself up against her side. He apologized and shifted himself once more to readjust it. As he gripped the handle to do so, a voice spoke to his mind, "You have returned to me. I feel the blood of Isildur within you."

Valandil tried to contain his surprise. The thing had a mind of its own! His sword... the one strapped to his belt!

[Gordis]

As the King put the almost full goblet in front of the Chancellor, Ilmenzor's brows arced slightly. Was the King so rustic as to be unaware of the old custom of Numenor? "What am I supposed to do now?" thought the Morgul Lord. "I can hardly pass the goblet around, as barbarians do, if I don't wish half of Tharbad chasing after Gordie. That would be a funny joke, no doubt, but a waste of a good potion". He turned to explain to the King the error of his ways, when a chorus of creaks was heard coming from the far end of the table. It was the elderly Bumbledore, professor of Commerce, dressed in an old moth-bitten dressing gown, who desired to speak. Glancing at his unguarded thoughts, the Chancellor smiled, and felt Aiwendis on the other side of the King relax as well. "You prove most useful to me, old Man", thought the Chancellor, as the other spoke is his strident elderly voice, "you will keep your Chair as long as you live."

Finally, the goblet was offered again, and the Morgul Lord watched with more than his eyes as the King took the wine and finished it in one swallow. At the end there was something... some feeling, ...maybe surprise? Valandil slammed the goblet on the table, and Ilmenzor saw that it was, indeed, empty. After that, the King slumped in his chair, clearly feeling some dizziness and unnatural warmth, the inevitable side effects of the potion. The potion Number Nine was meant to cause a strong, romantic, all-consuming True Love, but its first effects were somewhat unpredictable, alike to those of a strong aphrodisiac. "He will feel the full effect in a couple of hours, not earlier, I hope, it would be awkward if he started pawing Gordie at the reception".

Right at that moment, a hot wave of embarrassment, coming from Aiwendis, washed over the Chancellor. "The potion is stronger than I thought," mused the Morgul Lord, "he can't control his hands, or other parts, anymore".

With a charming smile, the Arch-Chancellor turned to the Elf on his right and said in impeccable Sindarin,
"My Lady, tales and songs of your realm and its Lady, both Wise and Fair, reach the mortal lands, but few can tell what is true and what is false, for you do not willingly have dealings with any other folk. Nin-in-Eilph must be a wondrous place, indeed, as deep is the love of Elves for their land. I long to know more about your country."

As the Elf started telling him about her land, the Chancellor gradually removed the thick cocoon that shielded her other neighbor, Oreturion. Then, Ilmenzor's eyes scanned the Hall and quickly riveted to Khamul. The Easterling was obviously in great pain. The Chancellor felt the unmistakable whiff of Black Sorcery in the air. Putting the protective shield over Khamul, the Chancellor started looking for the spell's source, still smiling and nodding politely to the Elf at his side.

[Earniel]

Eärniel was beginning to come to a conclusion about this sort of human, high-society events: they were utterly and utterly confusing. First the King's adviser that was seated to her right seemingly became distressed about something but when she asked him about it he had shaken his head to indicate he was alright. Although Eärniel perceived something was still bothering him. Then professor Galadannûn experienced some strange discomfort, which was abated now.

On top of that it was as if several people around her were preforming magic, or what humans referred to as magic in any case. It struck her as strange to perceive these things on a human reception. She didn't think the race of Men possessed those skills to that degree, or at least they had not when she had last walked among them.

Then the Chancellor suddenly inquired her about Nîn-In-Eilph, as if he wanted to divert her attention of these strange occurences. His smile was somewhat disturbing. Eärniel was not a suspicious person, but she started really to have enough of this reception and its out-of-place events.

She told the Chancellor about Nîn-In-Eilph but not freely. She spoke of the Elven dwellings but not of where and how many. She spoke of the Reed-Elves but only of why they chose to keep to themselves. But she spoke mostly of the marches and their beauty, and why the Reed-Elves had chosen to dwell there. Mostly that was because nobody else was the least interested in the humid and unwelcome swamps as dwelling place; but also because they had water there, in which Elves delight almost as much as star light. (And in the swamps the water didn't have that unfortunate habit of the sea to devour whole continents and redesign shore lines, but Eärniel was wise enough not to bring up that issue to the Numenorean Chancellor.)

Suffice to say she dispelled much of the myths that surrounded Nîn-In-Eilph, which was also her intent. The less people roaming in her swamps looking for some magical Elven castle, the better she liked it.

[Rían]

RÃ*an sat quietly at the corner of the table, sipping her wine and looking around with interest at the varied group seated there. Oreturion, to her left, gave her a very polite greeting, but was clearly distracted by concern for his king and soon turned away from her. Eärniel apparently noticed this, too - RÃ*an could hear Eärniel's quiet inquiry as to his well-being.

On her right, Marty had also been polite and attentive, but was currently tied up in conversation with Professor Mahtaliel, who had started to open up and even be animated as she conversed with her soon-to-be pupil. "Ah, a true teacher, and she certainly loves her subject!" thought RÃ*an, and wondered if she should perhaps try to register for some classes at the University. Given Professor Galadanunn's rage at seeing her there, she imagined she'd had plenty of time! she doubted if she'd be at Orrodel any more - but then again, she didn't know if she wanted to be there, either.

The conversation between Marty and Prof. Mahtaliel was suddenly cut short - apparently Prof. Galadanunn was in some distress, and Mahtaliel was inquiring after his health. "Hmm, first Oreturion, then Galadannun - maybe there's something in the wine!" she thought, and eyed her glass with suspicion.

She then noticed Ray and Viv enter the room and take their seats. Remembering Viv and Lilly, who were very happy to have arrangements so quietly and efficiently taken care of, made her wonder if their wishes would override those of their haughty brother/cousin. "Well, I'll just wait and see what happens," she thought to herself. "It might be fun to stay on, just to irritate Galaddanun!"

A general quieting of the conversations alerted her to a formal announcement. She watched as Aiwendis made a graceful speech and then handed the King a glass of wine, and hoped that his wine was not going to lead to any painful side-effects.

[Willow Oran]

Rebuffed by Galadanunn's reply Mahtaliel turned back to Marty and Lady Rian. Mahtaliel hadn't been aware of any other elves in the city proper and while determined to be welcoming, she was a little wary of the Ladies Earniel and Rian, there was no telling how they'd react to the presence of a former kinslayer...
Still, it was good to be around other elves, Mahtaliel had come to appreciate, and even to enjoy being around mortals, it was surprising to discover just how much she had missed her own people. Even if they hadn't missed her much.
Curious she leaned forward to talk to Rian, "Lady Rian, are you planning on taking courses here?"

[Rían]

"Well, Professor Mahtaliel," replied RÃ*an, "I wasn't planning on taking any classes this term, but after hearing you talk on your subject with such passion and knowledge, I'm tempted to see if I might be able to still sign up for your class! Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you could ask the Chancellor if he would allow this. I don't know him, and I imagine the request would be looked upon with more favor if it came from you instead of from me."

[Gordis]

Soon the celebration and feast began in earnest. Miriel and Malaphel sat alongside their new friend Maethor, thoroughly enjoying themselves. The King has made a blunder not to drink the Welcome Cup to dregs. The girls giggled, it was a distinct slight to Aiwendis, who must have also seen it in this light, as she seemed distressed. Clearly King Val needed a well educated wife to make him learn the ancient customs.
The servants brought platters of pies and fish, meat and vegetables, fruit and salads. Many of the feast's dishes were exotic; there were some strange vegetables and hot spices. Clearly, Lord Ilmenzor has spent too much time in the east, travelling among savages. He also needed a good wife sorely. But all was well: there were two of them. Each one was eager to leave the Chancellor to her sister, provided that she herself will become a Queen.

The girls noted that the King ate and drank little, no doubt because he didn’t like exotic food. Aiwendis was no good in keeping the household in order.

However, MM’s mood soon turned sour, as they watched Aiwendis and the King whispering quietly together, Aiwendis somewhat blushed, while the impudent she-Elf in a funny First Age hair net was flirting with the Chancellor, animatedly telling him some story, while he smiled at her tenderly.

Soon, following the Governor, the prominent citizens of Tharbad and Professors of the University raised their goblets to offer their blessings to the King and the Chancellor. The entertainment that followed was colourful and varied: dancers, a few singers, and handful of musicians. Soon the dances started, and MM’s thoroughly annoyed by now, looked at Maethor expectantly.

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

Khamûl sat as he watched the fat Governer and his wife dancing to the music. He was still in slight pain. Physically he was not yet recovered, but mentally he had regained his normal poise with incredible speed. The food had been good. The menu's were obviously influenced by the time the Morgul Lord spent in Khamûl's house before he had become the Chancellor.
Khamûl looked across the table where he saw Udu being flirted with by Malaphel and Miriel, the Governer's daughters. He was having a brilliant time, or so that was how it looked. He was laughing and drinking, yet there seemed a slight difference to his attitude earlier. He seemed more wary. Maybe he thought that Khamûl would retaliate, unaware the attack wasn't carried out by Maethor and that he had no part of it. For a momentMaethor caught Khamûl's eye's. That was all the Shadow of the East needed. Suddenly Maethor's gaze was fixed. He was not in a trance, but his eye's could not break contact with Khamûl's.
'I expect you found your little episode funny? Well if that is all you to offer then you are weaker than I thought. I trust you know of the pain I caused Lilawen earlier. That and more can be arranged for other's who do not please. Now if you have any sense you will not do that again. Khamûl said mentally. Not for your sake, but for your familes. he added evilly before breaking eye contact.
Khamûl then stood up and turned to Viv.
"A word if you will Viniglaen," he said leaving Viv little choice but to walk with Khamûl out of earshot of Raendil who was glancing towards them.
"Now tell me what you know about what just happened?" he said quickly.

[Butterbeer]

Proffessor Bumbledore had sat down rather clumsily with a great Whump!

As if reading his mind Jas had selected a rather unique wine she had ordered brought to the table and filled his goblet.

"Ahhh! Thank-you Jas!" taking the goblet and swirling it gently Bumbledore gave the wine it's due honour ... knowing that proffesor Jas fernick the Wine appreciation guru had surely selected a rare vintage for him, he examined it's nose ...

taking a reverential sip and letting it caress all of his tongue he closed his eye and smiling introvertedly felt the love that some wines can bring flow upon him ....

"mmm, ahhh, delicate .... maybe a clay soil, south facing?" he was temporizing and Proffesor jas knew it, but smiled at his friend indulgently all the same.

"cheeky, yet crisp ..." old Bumble popped his eye open with a sparkling yet amused look at Jas ... was he on the right track?

Jas put on his poker face ... he would surely give old bumble a cryptic clue sometime soon ... (he hoped!)

Though he had known jas to enjoy prolonging the game throughout a whole night ... often dropping hints and also outrageous red herrings ... tonight was to be no exception ... as the feast swung on with many exotic dishes ... and good tharbadian fare ... AH! PIES! thought Bumbledore ... now that would be fun later!

To honour the King there were performers and entertainment the like of which he had not seen since TA 12' when for one mad glorious year the previously dour arch-chancellor, old Arturion, had banged his head playing Rochdol and had gone quite blissfully mad ... it was from this time that university had acquired it's unofficial title as the party university of Middle earth! it was also the year that some of the more obscure university traditions had dated from ... including the annual pie throwing contest where all new proffesors took their turn trying to outdo each other hurling pies at the chef ... the winner would have the honoured title of Pie-proffesor that year and win a case of the University cellar's finest wines.

Tonight there were jugglers - bah! thought bumble: call those knives? there were minstrels and players, illusionists and dancers, fire-breathing southerners and even an eastern snake charmer!

What had really caught both his and jas's (and he noticed the new proffesor's sitting 2 seats away, and drinking wine like he had been at the uni all his life) rapt attention had been the dark dusky and highly exotic eastern dancing troupe who had belly-danced so provocatively, hips swaying and busoms bouncing ... the most beautiful lead dancer had cavorted spectacularly whirling a spell-binding heart-racing dance directly in front of the King - who it had appeared had almost been spell-bound, though he had remained dignified throughout ...

As the feast progressed and the fine food and wine's warmed many a heart, bumble's mood was light ... Jas was still playing his game and offering both hints and hurdles in his attempt to guess this rare vintage.

Both Bumbleore and Jas Fernick had noticed with appreciation how the new proffesor seated between the Governor's pretty daughters had matched them goblet for goblet during the feast ... no mean achievement .. they were both impressed and had discussed seeking him out later as the evening swung to aclose when the dancing got under way and before the traditional pie-throwing finale!

[Willow Oran]

Mahtaliel had readily agreed to speak to the Chancellor on Rian's behalf, though she had warned the girl that she and the Chancellor were not on the best of of terms. Rian had pointed out that Mahtaliel still had more influence and what could it hurt?

That concluded they had applied themselves to the meal. Mahtaliel had been pleased to find that there was a wide variety of foreign dishes as well as the more usual feasting fare. A long life that had included much traveling had given her a taste for new and interesting foods. It was a taste she didn't often get to indulge.

Now, though, she desired the company of her fellow professors. Spotting Bumbledore and Jas chatting nd drinking on the far side of the table she stood and glided around to join them.

"Drowning yourselves in wine my friends?' She asked lightly, grabbing an abandoned chair, "At this rate you'll be too drunk to see the festivities later on."

[Udukhaturz]

Udu’s amusement at Khamûl’s distress did not last long, for the Second had quickly recovered. Udu had been optimistic when he had first seen Khamûl doubled over in agony, clutching his stomach. “Relax your control,� he thought to himself, “and let me see what lies in that dark mind of yours, Shadow of the East.�

The polite chatter at the table was a muffled din with only a clink or clatter of dishes now and then to break the drone. Udu noted that the King was certainly acting strange. Did the son of Isildur have something to do with Khamûl’s presence here, he wondered at the intriguing thought.

Aiwendis seemed very interested in the King. Udu mused upon that. There were many things to ponder, and many secrets to be unraveled. What were the motives of the presence of the Chancellor, Aiwendis and Khamûl? Udu thought on all these things in the guarded fortresses of his mind.

Then he knew! It must be something about the Treasure! But what? The King, who seemed to be an addled sort, would bear watching.

He caught a glimpse of Viniglaen and her escort, but betrayed no recognition and scarcely looked at them. “My old student,� he thought, “and very skilled with the blade. We must talk sometime.� But he did not direct the thought towards her. There were too many thoughts flying in the room, and who knew what mind was receiving and which one was sending?

He wished that Khamûl had suffered a while longer, but that was not to be. Udu was becoming aware that hostile thoughts were being directed towards him. “Who is it,� he wondered. “Who else but Khamûl! What can he be planning?

Then he made the mistake of looking at Khamûl, and he was caught in the force of his power. Transfixed, he sat there, looking at him. Khamûl was hostile as he always had been towards Udu, but now he was accusatory, and worst of all, threatening.

“[i]Not for your sake, but for your families[/b],� he had said.

At last Khamûl withdrew that cold will and walked away with Viniglaen. Udu’s thoughts flashed in fury and his left hand went down to the hilt of his sword. “Khamûl, you would not be so low as to dare that! Coward!� he hissed to himself. “You would not ever face my blade if it were not for your Ring. Curse you and curse you again! There will be an accounting!�

He was sure that no one had noticed the look of displeasure that had been on his face. If they did, he would say that he was concerned that he might be experiencing an old flare-up of the disease which he had caught in the East.

The extravagant professor down the table past Malaphel was not noticing him, for he was in a discussion with the new professor of wine tasting. Miriel to his right seemed giddy, probably too much wine, he thought. If she had anything worthwhile in her mind, this might soon be the time to try to delve it. Both Miriel and her sister had been disappointments and had proved of little value in disclosing information.

The rest of the meal had passed uneventfully, and Udu had eaten little but drunk much. He had, by now, lost track of the number of goblets which he had emptied. He decided against intoning a spell of sobriety before he drank any more. He might need to be a little drunk.

The entertainers had finished their juggling and fire swallowing. Then this thought came at him simultaneously from both their minds: “They expect me to dance with them?� he thought. Perhaps he needed another drink.

Then he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. He bent over and looked first to the elder sister, the blonde in the too-bright orange gown. “Will you do me the honor to have this first dance with me?�

Then he looked to the sister, the plump brunette in green. “My feelings would be hurt if you did not grant me the second dance.�

[Serenoli]

Jas had quite forgotten that he was embarrassed at being late. In fact, the funny new dishes (some of which were so hot they left him gasping for water), the jugglers, clowns and a whole troop of extremely lovely ladies belly dancing in his face had driven quite a lot of things from his mind.

Such as the name of the wine he had given Bumbledore. Try as he might, he could not remember which one he had brought with him that night.In fact, as Bumbledore sipped the wine, trying hard to guess it, he himself was engaged in a similar occupation... trying to guess which one it was! He had a feeling that the effect of the spicy food on his palate was delaying him from identifying it… but meanwhile, he enjoyed the sight of old Bumble throwing out wild guesses… and giving him the occasional hint. He himself had no idea as of yet, but he didn’t worry. As long as he kept a solemn face and used many difficult-sounding words, he was sure he could get away with it for that night, at least.

“Cheeky and crisp? I don’t know, Bumble… I think you’re missing a certain flavour yet… try using the aroma as a guide…�, he said mysteriously. And of course, this caused Bumbledore to sniff it wildly for a time- until he gave it up as a bad job, and reverted back to drinking.

Later on, their colleague the elven jewel-lover, Mahtaliel, came over.

"Drowning yourselves in wine my friends?' She asked lightly, grabbing an abandoned chair, "At this rate you'll be too drunk to see the festivities later on."

His stomach gave a frightful lurch. This happens everytime Mahtaliel talks to him. Sometimes, she also leaves his heart beating madly, and his breath all gone. It started actually the first time he saw her, and hadn’t stopped yet. He had confided to old Bumble about this, and Bumble had laughed long and hard, and informed him he was in love with the elf. He supposed Bumble could be right… he did think that she was the most lovely creature he’d ever known… of course, he never told her that. In fact, he hardly ever spoke to her. He usually managed a strangled ‘Good evening’, but I’m afraid even that sounded like a ‘Gah!’ most of the time. Today, he was more audible though, but he could not go as far as answering her question… he left all that to Bumbledore, and contented himself with pouring her a goblet of his wine. She had joined their guessing game before and she was actually quite good. Maybe she would know what the vintage was…

[Willow Oran]

Mahtaliel accepted the wine and sipped at it appreciatively. Jas had really brought out the best this night. This tasted like one of his closely guarded Numenorean vintages, brought over on the ships of the faithful and sought after by wine collectors like Jas.
Not that either Jas or Bumble appeared sober enough to recognize it as such. She'd remind them eventually, there was no need to put an end to their guessing quite yet...

[Valandil]

Although he felt like he might soon be glad to have a good meal like they have in Annuminas, Valandil was starting to take to the southern cooking here in Tharbad. And - perhaps because he had mostly had more simple fare since his arrival, the varied and exquisite dainties which came to the table, along with some of the more standard fare, were exciting and interesting to try. Some of the food, he learned from Aiwendis, was not Tharbadian at all - but was like what folks ate in Umbar, Khand and Harad - all far to the south or east.

Sure - there were some meat and fowl laid out roasted and plain - or lightly spiced (he wondered if he had his old friend Elmirphud to thank for any of those latter... the man always had a taste for bird-flesh, but was never that successful in acquiring it) - there was also a meat pie. And sure there were cheeses - but some had other things mixed in - small pieces of vegetables or something - some bitter, or sour, or hot to the taste - but a pleasant combination with the cheese. There were breads of rye and wheat such as he was used to - but also flat breads. There was an abundance of butter and honey to flavor the bread - and there was plenty of fresh fruit. The cooks sent forth some creations which pleasantly mixed vegetables with meat and spices - without having just dumped them in water to make a stew of them.

He spoke much with Aiwendis as he ate, although he felt a little awkward doing so while the dancers performed before them - wearing far less than his mother would have approved of in their own palace. He tried to pretend it was nothing unusual though, and they talked of things near and of things far away. At times the Chancellor would join in with their conversation for a few moments, but he otherwise left them to themselves - and Aiwendis rarely seemed to turn and speak with Estelmo, who was on her left.

Valandil wondered about this fascinating sword of his father's. Of course Valandil had worn it - and held it - before this night. But never had it revealed a presence of anything more than metal and great craftsmanship. Great INDEED was the craftsmanship which had made it, he thought - but time enough to investigate that more fully when this evening was past. When he could do so in private.

As the evening wore on, Valandil joined in the dancing himself - when the dancing girls were led away and the other guests of the reception we enjoined to take part. Aiwendis favored him with the first dance, and he had a few dances with other young noble women who were present - managing thus far to elude those two (one in orange, one in green) who had pursued him earlier. At a break in the music, he saw them nearby once more, working themselves in his general direction. He turned the other way - and saw before him Earniel - who seemed distracted, and her friend - what was the name... Rian? - who happened to be looking his way.

[CrazySquirrel]

By ten o'clock in the evening, Penny and Lilly drained three more bottles of Nurn and were cavorting in bed playing with the wax doll. Lilly amused herself by drowning Khamul's figure in a cup of wine and fishing it back again by its thread. Hiccupping, Penny argued that that could do Khamul no harm, as he didn't really need to breath. Finally Lilly declared that she was hungry. Indeed, the poor thing has eaten nothing since early morning. Caring as ever, Penny volunteered to go to the kitchen and to bring the supper upstairs.

'Take the doll, Five,' giggled Lilly 'and burn it in the stove. Nobody will suspect us then'.

Penny found the idea excellent. He took the doll by its thread, and donned Lilly's much abused pink peignoir again, inside out this time. Swaying drunkenly, Penny tried to fasten at least some buttons, but failed in the task. He elegantly draped the right side of the garment over his left shoulder, as if it were a cloak, and started on bare feet down the stairs. The staircase tilted and danced before his eyes. Penny stopped for a moment, trying to fish the much needed sobering spell out of his memory. The said memory proved to be a stagnant mire, letting nothing out. Penny shrugged his shoulders, defeated, which dislodged the pink cloak quite a bit.

Melwen, the kitchen maid, was finishing her daily chores. She was late, but no one was there to help her. All the servants, including the housekeeper, vanished as if by magic. Zimra, her second cousin, promoted this morning to the position of Lady's maid, rushed past her two hours ago, all blushed and spluttering as a boiling kettle. She didn't even bother to stop to answer Melwen's questions.

The girl lifted the tray of unbaked scones, prepared for tomorrow, and bent to put them on a small table near the still warm stove, to let the dough rise. At this moment, a small object flew past her and landed on the coals. A drunken laughter erupted behind her back.

Turning, Melwen saw a pair of bare hairy legs, and, lifting her face, beheld young master Pengolod, completely drunk and scarcely draped in some bright cloth. Melwen recoiled in apprehension.

Squinting his eyes, Penny tried to focus on the maid, but that proved difficult. He saw two plump and rosy creatures, smelling attractively of human blood and fear. Not really caring about their numbers, Penny stepped forward, arms outstretched.

"Come here, me pussies," he taunted.

Frightened, Melwen started to back away from him, but found herself in a corner between the stove and the wall. Penny made another determined step forward. Desperately, the girl reached behind her, searching for a weapon. Her hand gripped the handle of a frying-pan. Penny suddenly staggered, almost loosing his balance. Melwen rushed past him, but was not fast enough. Surprisingly strong hands grabbed her around the waist. With a frightened scream, Melwen swung the pan, solidly connecting with Penny's temple.

Two figures collapsed to the floor.

Sudden pain made Melwen start, and she dropped the pan and clutched her right arm, which suddenly felt icy cold. “No, no!� she whimpered, watching in horror as the frying-pan blazed with fire, then withered and disappeared. Suddenly it seemed that the familiar kitchen faded. Melwen gasped, but she could not move. Her body quaked with a deadly cold, her breath came in shallow gasps, her vision blurred and she knew no more.

Some minutes later, Penny sat up and made an inarticulate sound as if trying to speak. He shook his head and tried again. “What... what did I want in the kitchen? Ahhh.. yes, food for Lilly.�

Taking the tray with the scones with him, he began the long ascent to the first floor.