A Trip to the Ballet

It was the night, the night the whole of Minas Tirith had been waiting for. “The Frivolous Swan”, Gwaihir’s acclaimed ballet, was the talk of the town. Ads were splashed in the White Tree Registry, and posters pasted on the lampposts along the streets, each depicting Gwaihir in a swan-white tutu in a graceful pose. The anticipation was enormous, the whole of the lobby of the theatre was swamped with the residents of Minas Tirith, from the nobles to some of the peasants. All were there to appreciate this night of perfect art and grace. I myself liked all of Gwai’s previous ballets very much - “The Graceful Grandmother”, “Dancing in the Water at Cair Andros” and “Opium Addiction” were spectacular. I hoped for no less this evening.

At seven in the evening I made my way to the Theatre, dressed in my formal evening wear. As expected, just about everybody was there. Anna and Huan sat together at a table bickering as usual. Arteris was talking to Trey about some gibberish about Gophers, which I didn’t exactly pay attention to. Elwing and Heron were standing and deep in discussion, probably discussing about Derm’s recent intrusion into the underground tunnels of Dor Moretirith, about Elwing’s part in that matter and how much compensation would have to be paid to replace the door, et cetera. Beryle, Dee, Robyn and Morr were all sitting together chatting happily about the recent chain of events in the soap “Days of Our Assassins”, in which Morr had played a rather large role as the leading Boilerman, and having a flirtatious relationship with Nienna, who was sitting in a corner in her black habit, talking to no one but smiling down at some fluffy chicken feathers she was holding. Close to her were Thorongil and Rothinzil.
Poor Rothinzil was having a hard time trying to tell Thoron he was not called Elda, while trying to refrain from retching from the awful smell that emanated from Thoron. I was just wondering about the remarkable exclusion of the shady Mormegil from today’s performance, when the gong, which signaled the start of the Ballet, sounded. One by one, people filtered into the Theatre and sat down to watch and enjoy the performance.

The stage darkened, and a single bright spotlight shone onto the now-empty stage. Some plaintive music began playing, but suddenly, the door to the Theatre was thrown open. Everyone looked round in surprise and noticeable irritancy, only to see the Queen and King, cowering from the people’s stares. Quickly, they strode down to their seats at the front, and immediately sat down without a fuss. After about the minute, the music started playing again. It was plaintive as before, quiet, and peaceful. The flute was being played remarkably well. The sounds of it reverberated around the Theatre, as the audience waited for the appearance of the dancers. We didn’t have to wait long. After about a minute, Gwai came onto the stage, dressed in a pure white tutu, as advertised in the papers. She looked almost glaring on the dark stage, even though the spotlight was focused on her. A lady in white, to dance the whole night…that ridiculous line began dancing through my head, as I watched with interest. The movements were simple, yet startlingly graceful, indeed as those of swans skimming on the river water…fluid yet solid, turning and twisting, of the high and low notes of the flute, ending in a spiraling climax of pirouette, her arms thrown out like a swan about to take flight. Suddenly, she stopped, facing the audience, rod-straight, head down. Just as suddenly, the music stopped too.

The silence went on for a few seconds. It was interminable, negligible, yet it probably made the whole difference between this part of the performance and the next part. However, just after the music had stopped, there was a clear whistle as of birds at night. I knew without a doubt, that Mormegil was here, and watching.

As the audience waited anxiously, the music started again. It was definitely louder this time, more upbeat. It made a harmonic symphony, ensnaring the audience in its hidden purpose, to make the setting, for the once innocent Swan to change. And this was seen in the next minutes. The whole mood of the ballet was reversed. The spotlight still remained, the clothes were still the same, yet here was a whole different air as Gwai started to dance. More twisting, nifty foot movements, faster, a swirl of white in the spotlight, a dizzying turning top…slowing down a little before carrying on with the movements. A little bit of jumping, seemingly the whole stage was lifted into a vibrant theme, full of life and flavour. The audience lapped it all up, enthralled. The twirling, spinning…they even made me feel slightly giddy as the music played, as the ballet as a whole bombarded my senses with temporary ecstasy. However, just as suddenly as before, the music stopped. This time she just stood neutrally, still in a straight position, but not rigid. She seemed to be waiting, for what I didn’t know at the time.

Just then, a rather plump lady wearing a red frilly dress came onto the stage and took her place on the right side of it. An extremely old-looking man, dressed in blue robes took his place on the right. A few interminable seconds. Then they both started singing. I immediately recognized the female as a soprano and the male as a baritone, but somehow, I think he couldn’t even strike a low C properly and shook my head. The lady’s voice was rich, full, high, but not a shriek. A true diva indeed! The man’s voice, however…I shuddered. His was as the leaves falling from the leaves in autumn when all life leaves them. It was dry and croaky, just like a frog! After a while I realised that he must be Bob, one of those terrible Istari karaoke singers. Apparently Mormegil noticed too, for a hand grabbed Bob off the stage and behind the curtain. We could all hear “Thou shall regret this heinous deed, Momo son of Mogh…” fading into the distance. Now that that irritating wizard was gone, we could all concentrate on the performance. The diva had begun her singing, and the notes struck the highs and lows, forming a beauty by itself, without any accompaniment. Meanwhile, a muscular man wearing black tights had come onto the stage and both he and Gwai were dancing romantically. The fluid movements of the black and white, polar opposites joined together, made an interesting effect. The white swan and the black swan, in romance on the river…the perfect setting. I could almost imagine the stage rippling as if it was water. The singing continued, at times slow, peaceful, yet at other times fast and vibrant. The final note - a high trilled C - and both Gwai and the man (later I realised his name was Xavier) stopped dancing to face the audience with their arms thrown up in the air.

There was a moment of temporary silence before everyone stood up and clapped warmly, loudly. It was a long-standing ovation, lasting for almost a minute, with many whistles coming from one of the apartments nearby, until Gwai and Xavier bowed and went offstage. At this the crowd slowly filtered out of the door and into the lobby for some chatting before going home. The sights were many - many peasants were saying raucous praise of the performance, both in the dance and the looks of both performers. Thorongil was still looking like an idiot, wondering why he was there and how he came to be there, with poor Rothinzil still trying to persuade him that his name was Thorongil. Huan and Anna were both holding hands - bickering forgotten. Nienna, I knew, was still looking secretly at Morr - I was sure she wished she could dance with him! Arteris was still talking to Trey about his bizarre plots, this time it was about a girl who comes to Minas Tirith and becomes an acclaimed ballerina. The King and Queen - I saw then through the crowd - were both rushing back to the Palace. This time though, Gilraen’s door may be open…

I smiled. It was amazing how a simple ballet performance could affect he citizens so deeply. And not to mention, a fabulous ballet too. It was probably the best Gwai had ever performed and directed in. A trip to the Ballet - a trip to remember.

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