Tavern of the Seven Stars: Midwinter Ball

[Karis Ziranphel]

Welcome to the Midwinter Ball
in
The Tavern of the Seven Stars

In the Second Circle on the northern side where the more affluent shops are stands the Tavern of the Seven Stars. It is on the outer edge of the Marketplace and is surrounded by a small garden of tall trees. The tavern is only open after 6p.m. in the evening.

It is an elegant establishment where Gondorians and friends come dressed in their finery to enjoy an elegant dinner and dancing. There are crisp linen tablecloths and napkins that are kept sparkling white as the snow outside by Catherine’s fine Laundry Service, and every table is decked with elaborate centerpieces of flowers or greenery, and lit by glowing candles.

This evening it is even more beautiful than normal, for it has been reserved for Minas Tirith’s annual Midwinter Ball. Fresh-cut green garlands interspersed with crimson berries deck the walls and add a fresh scent of spice and growing things to the air. The Steward’s long silver banners adorned with the White Tree hang among them. Long tables line the walls, laden with holiday dishes of all sorts – succulent roasted meats and vegetables both stewed and fresh; fruit compotes and elegant pastries; fresh rolls and pickled goods. The end table is crowned with a large Wassail bowl and many fluted crystal glasses of the beverage. A formal bar at the far end of the hall is also available for patrons to obtain drinks of all sorts, from rich lagers and ales to heady meads and sparkling wines.

The Central area for dancing has been expanded to accommodate the larger gathering, and a small orchestra plays in the balcony that overlooks the hall to provide ambiance and tunes for the couples who dance across the floor.

So, come one come all to the midwinter ball! Wear your best cloak or finest gown, and lace up your dancing shoes for a whirl on the floor with your love or an acquaintance brand new. Partake of the feast of field and vine and celebrate the turning of winter toward spring again. The Yuletide and the New Year are here!

~PUB RULES~

Please stay "in character"
No Spamming up the thread please
300+ characters per post
(bare minimum four lines in the text form)

Kingdom RPG Rules apply

All are welcome to participate and enjoy the festivities sponsored by the Steward's court
(Other races are acceptable-keep in mind they would not be a very common sight)
Please be courteous and no starting fights!
Images are allowed if kept to a small format
Pubmistress Karis Ziranphel will post in red for warnings or announcements

[Veowyn Girarion Alarion]

NPC Vandani Minrimmon

Tonight would be a night to remember. Dani knew it from the moment she heard about it. She'd bought a new outfit, pimped for hours, and had even arranged for a sitter for all night. She was trying not to think about how much she'd miss the mini Minrimmon. But, but she had been silently fretting all the way through town. Her baby Danicor was with her sister and mother for the night, works be having too much fun to miss her. So, she was able to give all her attention to the man who now held her hand as they entered the dressed up tavern.

A young man stepped forward and offered to take her snow white cloak. She looked up at her husband, with an almost shy smile. She'd been already hidden beneath her full length cloak when she'd finally come out, so he hadn't seen her dress yet.

She slowly revealed a silvery-green silk gown, that was trimmed with an emerald green velvet. It hugged her form, and left her shoulders bare. There was a slit in the side that made it easier to move, or dance, in. She'd gotten the little exotic number from the last trade wagon to come to town. No one else would have one like it.

She looked up at Malacor with a smile. "Come on, Mr. Minrimmon. Remember how to show a girl a good time?" She held out her gloved hand to him, her emerald eyes sparkling.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Her face grew incredulous as she looked at the inside of the Tavern of the Seven Stars. She lingered a bit very near to the entrance, taking it all in. She was instantly relieved at the same time though, that she had taken the time, and the money, to get a new dress. She would look dreadfully out of place in anything she had brought with her from Linhir, that was for sure.
Upon her leave of her birth city, her father had pressed a rather sizeable coin purse into her hands. He had said that he was the one who wanted her to leave for Minas Tirith, and so it was the least he could do - to make sure she would be comfortable. Considering that she had enlisted though, and that she now had a soldier's wages, in addition to room and board (food, baths, all that) at the Barracks, her expenses would be very low. Therefore, she had been willing to splurge a little on her outfit on the evening. She had even visited a hair dressers, where they had done all sorts of things, not only to her hair, but to her face as well. As a matter of fact, the first thing they had done to her face was too over the top for Kaylin, and she had felt obliged to tell them it just didn't fit her personality. Too much... but the second time, they had done a splendid job, she agreed.

Her long red hair, which reached to her weapons' belt when she wore it (obviously not tonight), was usually straight, but the hairdresser had suggested a different style to her. They had done something to it that resulted in elegant waves that almost looked like very downplayed curls. They had told her it was Elven fashion, but that hadn't mattered to Kaylin - it looked good, and since it was something different, it would serve wonderfully for this special occasion.
The skin of her face was clear, smooth, and even-toned. Her cheeks carried a slight, natural blush. Her eyes had been set in black liner and silvery-grey eye-shadow with a few blue undertones to bring out the blue in her grey eyes, and her lashes had been set with mascara, making them seem longer and darker than usual, and opening up her eyes.

Beneath her cloak, which she gladly gave to an employee of the Tavern, she was wearing a silvery-white-grey dress. It had so sleeves, no straps, and an A-line skirt all the way to the floor. The body was sequined, and the sequin overlay partially passed onto the dress of the skirt. Thanks to the length of the dress, she could just wear flat yet elegant white dancing shoes, which was a good thing if she wanted to dance. She wasn't expecting much, really -- just to meet up with some friends she had made, or some acquaintances even, and maybe a dance... or two. You never knew, she supposed. She was wearing one silver bracelet, and two simple silver earrings, but no necklace.

Scanning the room, she didn't think there was anyone present yet who she knew. Since that was the case, and there weren't that many people present yet, she decided to go and take a closer look at the tables filled with food that were lining the walls. She couldn't deny her curiosity on that account, since word on the street had it that one was hard pressed to find a better food arrangement than at one of the Tavern's balls.

[Maldir Alarion]

NPC Malacor Minrimmon

A cool, nocturnal breeze blew in from the North throughout the cobbled lanes of the Second Circle as Malacor nonchalantly walked hand in hand with his wedded wife Vandani. The fair-haired dairy farmer of the townlands donned a dapper burgundy suit that was tailor-fitted to his burly build for the prestigious occasion, yet as they scaled the steps of the Tavern, his inner thoughts could not help but dwell upon what ravishing raiment lied underneath Dani's long, ivory cloak that she had remained so tight-lipped about...He dared not press her on such a secret, and pretended not to give her concealment a second thought...He knew how much she liked to surprise him.

Much to his delectation when a cloakroom porter offered to check her snowy outer garment just past the entryway, Dani unveiled her hush-hush secret in elegant fashion. " Y-you've outdone yourself this time, my love...You are the stuff that dreams are made of...Well, my dreams anyway...", an astounded Malacor managed to stammer upon taking in her picturesque presence in all of its glory. " Um...Would you like to be seated to eat and mingle first?...Or would you care to kick up your heels and begin with a dance? ", he posed in query his wondrous wife's way after he regained his composure after the mere sight of her glittering gown.

[Nienna]

A lady does not go to a ball alone, in fact, a lady does not go to a ball at all, she heard her mothers voice.
Still she would hear her voice after all these years.
She smiled sadly as she passed the servant at the entrance, who had asked her if she had a table reserved, and if she was alone. "Yes and yes" she had replied with a smile. A friend, a fellow maid had given this evening as a gift for her, a thank you, for all she had done for her. Table, drinks, all paid for, and she was not to be disturbed, harassed or even bothered by anybody, her friend had said. That maid was made the new cook for the Steward and was ever so grateful for all the tiny hints Nienna had given her, so that she would know, what to cook, how to cook it and what his favourite meals were.
And now, Nienna was here, in the pub, which was more a hall of feasts, so big it looked now.
Would her friend be able to cook the chicken just the way he loved it, Nienna asked herself for a blink but shook this thought off quickly.
That was none of her concerns anymore.
The hall was slowly filling with people, some known, some she had never seen before and she felt excited and a little bit nervous.
A servant came and led her to a table away from the entering people and not too close to the dance floor.
"A good and quiet table to watch and to enjoy" she muttered and sat down, her back against the wall and folded her hands in her lap.
Her grass green frock was new, green wool and silk, the embroidered leaves, vines and trees on hem and neckline in yellow, dark red and brow looked lovely to her honey coloured hair, which shone golden in the lights of the many candles lit on each table and on the huge candelabra, which hung from the ceiling.
She wore her mothers scarf around her shoulders, of lace, soft thin wool and tiny glass beads, which glittered golden and green in the dim light at her table.
Her hair was knot in a loose bun, of which only a few locks had escaped while she had rushed to arrived to the feast early. That rush had also left a rosy shimmer on her cheeks.
To be early was good, she thought, so she would be able to watch who was coming and with whom. Oh, what a treat.
The same servant, who had led her to the table, now brought some warm mulled wine she so loved.
Her cold hands wrapped around the goblet she sipped carefully and closed her eyes with glee. That was good. The best mulled wine she had in a very long time, she thought.
Its warmth ran down through her body right into her shoes, oh yes, the shoes. She had changed her shoes the minute before leaving the house. Changed the new green satin shoes for her old and comfy riding boots. Nobody would notice, she hoped.
Who could ever walk, yet run, or especially dance in satin shoes, ever.

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

The dark green Ranger's cloak that draped Thûllir's shoulders glittered with frost that caught the moonlight as he approached the Tavern of the Seven Stars. It had been several months since he last took leave to venture from the woods of Ithilien and visit the White City. He'd taken a room at the inn that Karis had recommended last year when he had complained that he wanted to relax on leave rather than stay in Barracks again. A smile tilted his lips at the memory. Surely he had just missed her again, although her flag was not flying over the headquarters. Perhaps she would be present this evening. After all, she was the one who had gotten him to agree to attend this year if he lost that silly bet.

Stepping into the festively decorated hall, Thûllir stamped the snow off his tall black boots, and whirled the cloak off his shoulders to hand to one of the attendants. Even if there were acquaintances in attendance they likely would not have recognized the young man that stood there in the entry way surveying the finely dressed crowd. His reddish-brown curls were clipped short and brushed to a high gleam, and his beard was freshly trimmed. Instead of weathered leather armor, he wore a deep sapphire-blue tunic with silver embroidery over a snow white shirt and coal black trousers. Instead of bow, quiver, and sword, he only bore a black and silver hilted dagger on his belt. Giving his tunic a nervous tug, Thûllir took a deep breath and stepped further into the room. Perhaps a drink would take the edge off before he attempted introductions.

His gaze slid over the many snowy white tables and down the hall to the dance floor and bar as he began his journey across the floor. Then he glanced over the long tables of food to the left, and almost walked into a chair when he saw her. He had no idea who she was, but she was a vision in silver and white, with fiery hair that caught the gold of the candlelight. Staggered, Thûllir gripped the back of the chair tightly as his mouth went dry as dust. By Elendil, this will never do. Firmly getting a hold of himself, Thûllir straightened his shoulders and gave the poor chair an apologetic pat for almost crushing its finely carved wood. A drink. That's what I need. A drink to calm the nerves. Starting off across the floor again, his stride was brisk as he wound between tables and around the dance floor to end up at the bar.

"A glass of your stiffest whiskey sir!" The bartender poured him a short glass, and Thûllir tossed it back without a pause. It gave him a good jolt, but the evening was yet young. He glanced back at the tables. His gaze was still drawn to the same woman...this called for some thought, and more whiskey would just make him unsteady. "A dark ale if you please," he spoke over his shoulder. The barkeep was obliging, and slid a tall foaming tankard to a stop at his left hand. Leaning back against the rail while keeping grey-blue eyes turned on the hall, he took a slow sip and focused on regaining his equilibrium. Where was Ziranphel when he needed advice?

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Indeed, all she had heard proved true. The food offered at the tables covered in the finest linnens was astounding. Many kinds of meat, there were especially. And some excellent looking pastries. Kaylin had a slender figure, but thanks to her daily training schedules, she could eat a whole lot of food without gaining any weight. In fact, she had to eat more than was usual for a woman so she could keep her strength up. She would delight in some of what was offered soon, she promised herself. But first, she thought she might have something to quench her thirst that had slowly been building up.

On her way to the bar, she pondered on what to get. Judging by the food, they would basically have everything beverage-wise as well. She didn't do it as often as most of the soldiers she had known in Linhir, but this occasion seemed like a suitable time for something alcoholic, Kaylin mused. Nothing sparkly, though, that was too fancy for her taste. She almost grunted at that thought, considering the dress she was wearing and the way her usually straight hair was styled tonight. She smiled and nodded to some people as they passed her, themselves on their way to take a look at the food, most likely. Some wine would do, she decided. When she got to the bar, she didn't have to wait at all before someone came over to where she was standing and asked how he could be of service. "A glass of red, please," she asked, and the bartender presented her with the beverage in the shortest time she had ever gotten a drink served. "Great service," she thanked him with a smile, and lifted the glass from the bar with a nudge. It was only then that she had the time to look at the bar area more closely. It was rather empty as of yet, since the doors of the Tavern had openend quite recently. She only saw one other person standing at the bar, a man with dark hair. She couldn't quite tell the colour of his eyes from her current position. After taking a look around again, she decided it seemed like a good time to meet someone new.

It didn't take long to approach the man. "Good evening to you, sir," she greeted him, keeping a respectful distance as was customary for first meetings. From this close, she noticed his dark hair had a tinge of red to it, which put her a bit at ease. That might seem strange to some, or more likely to many, but as a girl she had been frequently called names for her fiery locks, and people with some hint of the colour in their hair had never done that, so she was naturally more at ease around them. Then she realised it might be difficult to strike up a conversation that wasn't too 'empty'. Pensatively, she took a sip from her glass of wine, and then an idea came to her. It wasn't perfect, granted, but better than just a mere greeting. "This is my first time at a ball like this," she admitted, her eyes scanning a portion of the room again. "And probably the first place I've gone to in this City without metal or wooden weaponry." As she nodded to indicate the dagger on his belt, some of her long red hair fell forward over her shoulders. "Unlike yourself."

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

The ale didn't seem to be helping. Thûllir gave his tankard of ale a brief glare before turning his gaze back on the room. He kept trying to seem interested in the comings and goings of other patrons, but his treacherous eyes kept wandering back involuntarily to that vision in silver. It wasn't normal. He didn't normally like women! Except for his cousin and fellow soldiers of course, but they were different and more friends, and they didn't make him all dizzy. Maybe something was wrong with him. It had all started when he walked in the door. Horrified, he quick looked around the room to closely examine some of the other women in attendance. No...it didn't seem to work with the others. For instance, there was a beautiful woman in green sitting alone (who actually looked a bit like one of his cousin's friends that she talked about), who was otherwise quite exquisite, but he didn't feel like he'd gotten punched when he looked at her. He would've know how to deal with someone punching him for real, but to be able to reach out and do that without touching him was something else. Thûllir mentally muttered at his cousin for not being there to act as a shield. It was her fault he was here in the first place, so she could at least show up.

He looked back over and straightened up quickly. She'd moved! He found her again as she walked toward the bar, and had to close his eyes briefly. Aye she moved. That dress should be outlawed! It was lethal. Turning away in order to collect himself again, and remind himself that he was a calm, mature, and composed warrior rather than an adolescent boy, Thûllir took a deep draught and composed his features once more. He was good at the brooding look, but it wasn't too appropriate for a ball. He would hear no end of it from Karis is he made a mess of things.

Glancing back again in a nonchalant way, Thûllir was both petrified and strangely delighted to see the woman take a sip of wine and then approach him. He got distracted by her hair that looked even more like a tumbling sheet of flame close up, and put his years of staying still for the hunt to good use by preventing his hand from reaching out to touch it and see if he would get burned. He snapped back just in time to realize she was speaking to him. Something settled inside at the sound of her voice, and his nerves smoothed a bit as he listened to her words.

Managing to crack a small smile, Thûllir replied in an amazingly steady low voice. "Good evening indeed M'lady. Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien at your service." He managed to sketch a half bow and raised his glass to her. "This is my first ball as well. Honestly I would not have come if my cousin hadn't been so cunning, but I can now truly say I am delighted to have the pleasure, and will have to thank her." He didn't normally talk this much, but her manner was relaxed and invited confidences. "Are you a warrior then? You may have the dagger if it pleases you, but I trust you will have no need of it." Dare he say it? "Your beauty alone is sword and shield the like of any weapon of wood or steel madam." He could see it in her now that she was close, and wondered that he didn't remark on it before, or react to any other woman warrior that way. The strength and manner that gave her grace that perfect edge. Then his eyes widened as he caught the color of hers. Karis really must be laughing wherever she is. He thought to himself as his face relaxed into a true smile that crinkled up the corners of his eyes. Thûllir's voice held a tinge more warmth as he questioned her further. "From where do you hail M'lady warrior?"

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

She drank some more wine as he replied to her... well, statements. She had asked no questions, but had just left the floor open for Thûllir, as she now knew him to be called, to talk. Realising she hadn't given her own name yet, she reproached herself mentally. As he raised his glass to her in greeting, she did the same. She figured the gesture could go two ways, especially when a man did it. It could either look natural and gallant, or awkward and forced. For Thûllir, she noted, the former was true. She was about to give him her name, when she started to reflect on the second name he had given her, but she hardly had any time to think about it as he continued the conversation.

He asked her if she was a warrior, but it seemed like more of a rhetorical question, judging from his eyes. Kaylin gave him a smile that confirmed his thoughts, and nodded very slightly. She was a bit surprised when he offered her the dagger, wondering who this man was that he would just give away a weapon to someone he had just met. Not that Kaylin was overly attached to her own weaponry back at the barracks, but still. The scabbard of the dagger and the dagger itself didn't look too cheap, besides. Despite of the look of the weapon, though, she could tell it wasn't just an ornate piece. As her eyes went up again from the dagger to his face, so she could reply, she wondered whether Thûllir felt comfortable; it may just be her thinking it, but his body language seemed a bit uneasy. "I don't need to carry a weapon everywhere I go, though I like to have my longsword with me," she admitted. "My body is my main weapon; my specialty lies in hand-to-hand combat." Then he went on to say she had most likely no need of a weapon, considering her beauty was weapon enough. Kaylin couldn't help but look down and smile an incredulous smile, and realised how differently that made her earlier comment about her main weapon sound.

It was just as she turned her gaze upwards again that she saw him smiling not just with his mouth, but with his eyes also, and that at once proved he hadn't been completely comfortable before, but also that he seemed to be warming up to the idea of speaking to a complete stranger, she figured. She also thought she heard something different in his voice, but she had been wrong about those things before, so she chose not to take anything for sure. She was glad that his question gave her the opportunity to blaze right by his earlier comment and respond to everything.

"I happen to hail from Linhir," she said. "It's a beautiful city, or at least it is to me, though anyone will tell you it has nothing on Minas Tirith." A smile warmed up her face. "And they would be right, mind you. Have you ever seen it? I think it is because I was born there and grew up there that it has a beauty to me that escapes more objective critics." She paused for a moment, to put her glass on the bar for a while. "You are from Ithilien." It was a statement, since he had just told her moments before. "I'm afraid I've only been there most briefly, and not in my free time. Only the Enemy has brought me there, though I didn't stay long - the company was soon on the move again." She was trailing off subject, she knew as she finished she sentence, and she shrugged to indicate that she was aware it wasn't a socially acceptable subject to speak of at a ball. Or probably in general at any time in a Tavern this high-end.

"Who is your cousin, sir?" She hesitated a moment, then used his name. "Thûllir. Not that I am like to know her yet. I haven't met tons of people, and the City houses so many," she said with an apologetic smile. "Bregedŷr, you said..." She narrowed her blue-grey eyes ever so slightly in thought, her gaze straying away from the man. "Is that... sudden fire?" She held up a hand as if to ask for another moment to figure it out. "Wildfire?" Her eyes looked up to his in earnest question. Instantly, she thought of the red tinge to his locks. Then, she dismissed that idea, albeit hesitantly. The red was not prominent enough to earn him that name, so she could assume that it had not been given to him at birth. Yet, she was intrigued because of the 'fire' element in it. She came half a step closer. "How did you come by that?" Kaylin asked him in a softer voice than before, her eyes searching his, her curiosity completely making her forget she had yet to offer him her own name. Her mother would have scolded her.

[Nienna]

The servant did not stand farther than five steps away from where she sat, to her left, his hands folded over a clean, dark red apron, which covered a well-rounded belly. He was a bald man, may be passed the forty years of age an tall. His hands had seen all kind of work, judging by the rough knuckles, the thick and muscular fingers. Slightly smiling, while overlooking the crowded pub he was satisfied with his work.
He had to serve Nienna for this evening, so Mistress Pina had told him and therefore she had given him a little but quite heavy leather pouch full of coins.
Serve her well, Rallagin, she had said. May she eat and drink to her hearts delight and do not let anybody come near her, except she calls upon him or her, she had told him, tapping with her little white fingers on his broad chest.
He had bowed to her and had promised everything and now he was doing his best to earn, what was merrily jingling in that little pouch in his pocket.
Nienna turned her head, nodded at him and when he bowed his head low to hear her wish, she said: "I would like to eat something. Not too much and not too heavy, for there might be some dancing to do, later," her cheeks flushed rosily and she smiled and he replied quickly:"...yes, we do have a nice meat pie and some steamed vegetables for you, Lady. And maybe some fruit from the far South of Harad. And may I recommend a glass of Telperion Mist to that? You might enjoy it." He straightened up with a questioning look meeting her delighted one.
"Oh yes, please. That sounds just wonderful, thank you," Nienna replied and nodded gratefully.
"Very well", he said, very pleased with himself, and left quickly for the kitchen.
With a sigh she sat back and sipped on her wine once more.
It would be a wonderful evening and she was beginning to enjoy it very much.

[Veowyn Girarion Alarion]

Vandani Minrimmon

The young marketplace mayor knew she was actually blushing. She had really hoped he liked it, but she hadn't expected to catch him stammering for his words. She patted gloved hand on her up-do, hoping all her dark auburn locks were in place. Her ear baubles were hanging in place, and the delicate silver chain she wore slid out of sight behind the trim of her low cut gown.

When he again took her hand, she looked around. The few in the room looked familiar, as most people did to her. Her line of work made everyone look familiar, even if they'd never met. But she knew that she didn't know them well. It would be perfect to eat now, so she didn't embarrass herself in front of anyone.

However, the orchestra had a secret plot. They played their song. The slow, yet merry tune they shared their very first dance, as teenagers. Then again at the celebration if their nuptials. "Looks like our choice was made for us." Dani gave Cory a wink, before she followed him to the dance floor.

[Moriel]

The Seven Stars had really been spruced up for the occasion, Kamion thought, as with his party he passed through its doors. He was not normally one to go in for such events as balls- like his father Darellon, Kamion was a soldier and a simple soul, a tall, broad-shouldered Dúnadan possessed of a shock of jet black hair and an intelligent set of cobalt eyes, but little inclination for fancy social gatherings. But, when his friends and cajoled and taunted and even Darellon had given him a dig in the ribs, he had agreed to attend with good humor. And it looked to be a pleasant enough evening after all, in good company and fine spirits. Kamion glanced around the tavern as they made their way towards, the bar, clustering about one end in a small group. There were finer peacocks at the ball, but the simple black and silver doublet with its lacings at shoulder and elbow giving a peek of the snowy shirt below, over black trews and high polished boots, provided the Dúnadan with a simple elegance that suited him well. Kamion received a foaming mug with a nod of thanks an a grin, and joined in the toast and cheer of his friends- who would soon, no doubt, be making wagers on who could dance with the prettiest maiden!

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

Watching the play of animation in the Lady's face was fascinating to Thûllir, and admittedly he didn't quite know how to respond to some of her statements, so he remained silent initially. His brain fuzzed a bit. Hand to hand combat? Oh my...Ah Linhir. A safer subject. Small pretty city south a ways. The mention of Ithilien drew him back from his bemused wondering, and Thûllir's eyes darkened at the thought of her being a part of the conflicts over there. He hadn't been part of the most recent large engagement, but he had heard of it from his company. He saw her shrug off the topic and so let it go, but hoped to bring it up at a later date.

Taking a draught of his ale, he listened to her next question with curiosity, but only half his attention since he kept getting distracted by the play of candlelight across her features. His cousin? “Well,…” he began his reply, but then forgot to breath when she called him by name, immediately started musing about the meaning and took that step closer to look searchingly up into his eyes. Her voice seemed to curl around his spine like a flicker of the flame that froze the breath in his lungs.

Suddenly realizing that she was waiting for a response, Thûllir blinked and slowly blew out the breath that he had been holding and dragged in oxygen to replenish his seemingly depleted brain cells. He tried again. “Well M’Lady, you’ve probably heard of my cousin if not met her. She is Karis Ziranphel, a scholar and also a Captain of Gondor.” He shrugged slightly and continued. “My family sort-of adopted her when her father sent her east to get an education and join the army. Then when I sent my parents to the city for protection when Ithilien started getting dangerous, it was her turn to take us in. My Father and Mother still live in her old living quarters up on the fourth circle which she vacated when she moved into the Captain’s quarters at the barracks.” Thûllir smiled slightly and looked a bit embarrassed, but didn’t glance away from the eyes that looked so earnestly into his. “Bregedŷr. Yes, it does mean wildfire. It is a name given to me by some of my squad mates that stuck. It is partly because of my hair, but more so for how I supposedly fight in battle. I am normally much quieter than this evening, so because my fighting style is blazingly different,” He emphasized the word his fellows used, “ they like to say I am like a wildfire that springs up suddenly and consumes everything its path.”

He tilted his head and attempted a deflection. He normally didn’t tell people much about himself, and didn’t want to appear boastful. At least not to her, although why it would be so important seemed to hover just outside his comprehension at the moment. Motioning slightly with his chin he finally asked another question. “What about you M’Lady fair? Any nicknames given that you are willing to share?” His right eyebrow inched upwards. “Any activities you enjoy besides…hand-to-hand combat?” Thûllir knew he was treading on dangerous ground with his questions and might appear rude, but he was curious and barely breathed as he waited her response.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

When he mentioned his cousin's name, her eyes lit up a bit in recognition. She had heard it indeed, but hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Karis Ziranphel so far. She was even unclear on where the Captain was at the moment; everyone was sort of vague about it. Kaylin had expected to meet with Karis when she had enlisted, but instead she had spoken to Lieutenant Maldir Alarion. Glancing to the bar, her eyes guided her hand back to her glass, so she could take a drink whilst Thûllir spoke. It was a surprise to her that he was this talkative; she wouldn't have pegged him as such from a distance. Her eyes went back to his when he spoke of sending his parents to Minas Tirith for protection. Kaylin guessed that was what her father had intended for her as well, though he was aware his prudence could as well blow up in his face if she chose to join the army. She returned his slight smile. "Your family sounds wonderful. So willing to look out for one another and help one another." She lightly touched his arm to convey her sympathies for the things they had been forced to do because of the threat at their borders. "I hope your parents are not too uncomfortable here, in the City, after being used to a life in such pleasant, more open surroundings in Ithilien. As beautiful as Minas Tirith may be, moving from the woods to a city is a big change."

The confirmation that she had been right about the name's translation made her closed-lipped smile grow into one that showed her teeth - it had been a while since her language lessons, but it seemed like some of it had stuck, at least. Kaylin listened attentively as Thûllir expanded on the reason that it was given to him. Her eyebrows went up a little as he told her, but her smile didn't disappear. She liked his explanation, actually. A splendid nickname with a splendid reason behind it. "That is a great nickname then!" she exclaimed. "Sounds like you are quite the sight to behold in a fight," she replied, trying to imagine what that might look like. The realization that it could be forever before she could get the chance to see 'Bregedŷr' in action, though, hit her soon enough. He was stationed in Ithilien, and she was still in the last stage of her training here, having yet to choose a company. She had no idea of the odds of them fighting together in a battle of some kind. Besides, asking for battles wasn't something she wanted to do. "Do you have the same attitude when it comes to mock fights?" she questioned, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "It would be interesting to see what your squad mates mean exactly." A moment of pause. "Besides, I always like to measure up my skills against someone else's. Every new person you fight has something new to teach you." Based on his nickname, she might suffer a painful loss, but even so!

Kaylin had to laugh when he asked her about any nicknames she might have, and the activities she enjoyed. The way he had posed the question, with his right eyebrow pulled up a little, amused her. "As for nicknames..." She frowned slightly for just a moment. "I have none given to me by friends. None of my friends back in Linhir gave each other nicknames, and I haven't been here very long, so there you go. I suppose the only nicknames I have are those given by my parents, but that can't be compared to a nickname such as yours. Such nicknames stem from parental affection, and are completely different. For example, my father calls me his little firecracker from time to time." With a wave of her hand, she supported her story, lowering her head a little as if she was being apologetic. "He's used that nickname for me ever since I was little and got into a fist fight with some other children because they were making fun of me due to my haircolour, and it stuck ever since." Kaylin looked for Thûllir's reaction through her lashes, before raising her head up a bit to its former position, and downing the rest of the wine that was left in her glass. She turned a quarter circle towards the bar so she was facing it fully - with the intention of ordering another, but the attendants were occupied at the moment, and she didn't want to rush them, so she held off a bit.

She looked over her bare shoulder to answer Thûllir's other question, her hands folded on the bar. "About the activities - luckily, yes, there are other things I enjoy beside training and fighting." Would be a sad life if there weren't, she mused. Her eyes were held by his as she considered that in their brief conversation, they had both dropped little bits of information that could be considered personal by many. Thûllir had shared some non-superficial information about his family with her, and she had told him her father's nickname for her, for the Valar's sakes, and had just told him moments before that as a child, she had been in a fist fight with wannabe-bullies in order to shut them up about her hair. Telling him what she liked to do in her free time was less personal, compared to all of that. She looked in front of her, towards the bar, and ordered that new glass of wine. When she had her drink, she turned her back to the bar and leaned against it, the skirt of the dress swirling slightly. She held the glass in front of her with both hands, and turned her head to the side to speak to Thûllir. "For example, boring as it may sound... I like a good read from time to time. In a comfortable seat, with maybe even a soft blanket and a hot drink. Especially when the days are short and darkness falls quickly at night."

"I enjoy to swim, as well," she admitted, pondering. "Which is proving more difficult to do here than it was in Linhir, with the Gilrain and the Senri right there. I would really have to go on some sort of an outing to find a place to swim around here, I guess. I don't really know how I should go about it." She took a drink. "There is just something about being in the water." Debating whether or not to continue, she tried to gauge whether or not her conversational companion would have any interest in it by searching his facial expression and finally settling on his eyes. "Have you ever noticed how, when you slide into the water, it seems to receive you with open arms? And when you pull yourself out, it seems to want to draw you back in?" After a moment of silence, Kaylin looked away briefly and then re-established eye contact.

"What I love to do the most is just have fun. In whatever way. A game with friends, a bit of mischief --" Her eyes lit up there as she thought about what Pele and she had been up to in the Barracks recently. "-- Just enjoy life with the people that are in it. What do you do to pass the time in Ithilien? I suppose you don't come to the City that often..."

[Maldir Alarion]

NPC Malacor Minrimmon


Suddenly, it was as if the powers that be had overheard the dairy farmer's plea towards his becoming bride, for no sooner had those words of inquiry left his mouth when the tavern's music makers had made the decision for each of them crystal clear. " Well I'll be hogtied and hornswoggled!...I guess you're right, how could we pass up dancing to our song?...That delicious looking spread of food will just have to wait a little while then, the dance floor is calling out our names now...", a startled Malacor came to realize as the tune of the stately court minuet began to fill the tavern.

Hand in hand with prim and proper manner did Malacor escort Vandani out to the center of the dance floor, where he then turned to face her with a courtly bow while still holding her gloved hand ever so tenderly. The song was almost as lovely as the woman who's eyes he then looked deeply into...almost...Yet he could not help but begin to softly sing the opening lyrics of their tune in that brief moment just before they set themselves in position to dance together. " So this is love...Mmm...So this is what makes life divine...Mmm... ", the fair-haired, burly man decked out in the burgundy suit carried on the tune in a humming whisper as he gingerly wrapped one of his arms around his beloved bride's waist and drew closer to her.

[Tári Helyanwë]

Minis Tirith! A shiver ran down her spine as the wind danced around her cloak. Her dark hair escaping from the folds of her hood, and her light blue eyes scanned the white city, and every little movement before her. Tari had kept her distance from this place for quite some time, but it was a new beginning, and that was always promising. The news of a ball had fallen upon her ears. The elleth had not danced in so long she had hoped she could remember how. Although she had left most of her gowns back home Tari was able to find one that really stood out to her. It was a light blue, and was angled perfectly around the shoulders and down. The sleeves had angled down into a point just a few inches from her wrists. In the front were silver snowflakes delicately embroidered on by someone that was beyond a miracle when it came to at the spur of the moment sewing. Her cloak of course matched the light blue gown that she wore, and a little bit of fur had been sewn on the front of her hood. Once satisfied that she would at least fit in with outfit she made her way into the white city, and looked for the tavern.

Tari found it easy enough as the trees had seemed so different then the last time she had been. Of course it was a different season however that was obviously the explanation. She had approached slowly, and found the entrance where she stood briefly. The elleth had never before had a problem with being here, but just in case she places a light blue mask upon her face with three blue feathers that had spread on each side of her head. The mask had made her eyes look a bit silver. Tari kept the hood of her cloak on, and proceeded to enter the ball. It was beautifully decorated, and the smell of crisp wine wavered through the air, and tickled her senses with delight. Oh how she missed the days of carefree dancing, and mingling with others, and just plain having a good time. Hopefully this would prove no different, and she bore a smile on her face.

[Elesil Narsil]

It wasn't every day that Elesil would dress up, but she figured that she should make an appearance at the Midwinter Ball. It was chilly outside as Elesil came in out of the cold. Once she came in and took off her forest green lined cloak, everyone saw that she wore a wine red, Elvish inspired long dress with emerald holly leaves embroidered around the hem on the bottom of her dress, cuffs and neckline. It was a long sleeved dress with a squared neckline. Elesil had also decided to dig out the necklace that matched her dress and also a couple nice rings on her fingers. There were dainty snowflake earrings in her pierced ears also. Instead of heels, she decided to wear her forest green, almost black, knee length boots.

Some were surprised to see a jet black wolf trail in behind her, but most were not. Elenmire sported a new leather collar with a crystal snowflake affixed to the leash loop on it. He also had a canine jacket on that matched Elesil's dress. He stayed close to his master's side and looked around, trying to spot a nice face that would pet him.

Not having a beau to dance with, Elesil went over to the food table and fixed herself a plate and put a bite or two extra on there for Elen. She also got a mug of Wassail and went to an open table to partake of the delicious food. She had hoped that someone might show up that she might know.

[Lost Tales]

This evening he decided to adopt the name, Maedhros. It gave him a certain air and dignity that would befit this midwinter ball. He had managed to wheedle out of his little friend, the dressmaker's son, an outfit he fully intended returning as soon as the night was over. The lad had been reluctant. But after promising him that he could come with him on one of his adventures, the boy gave in.

Now, er, Maedhros stood beside one of the banquet tables, scanning the dance floor and then the rest of the room looking to see if he recognised anyone. He very much doubted anyone would recognise him. He ventured to think that he might be considered to be in fancy dress, since his usual attire was rather bizarre -- a poncho of sunny hues and a purple artist's hat. But this evening he had spent quite a bit of time trying to tame his raven hair. He missed his cap, he did. Come to think of it Maedhros felt a wee bit uncomfortable in his dark blue tunic. He was annoyed about having given in to the boy's decision. Of the tunics brought before him he had wanted to go for the bright yellow one. But the boy had insisted that the blue set of the his eyes to perfection. Bah! Stupid girly stuff. All he could think about was how tight it was about his broad shoulders, and he was sorely tempted to undo the bronze-coloured button of his collor. He felt like he would choke. However, the last thing he wanted was to be kicked out of the establishment for not sticking to the exact dress code.

In a desperate attempt to forget about his dreadful get-up, Maedhros turned his attention to the feast laid out beautifully on the tables. His mouth began to water. Food like this came rarely his way these days, and he fully intended to make the best of it. Grabbing a plate he began to heap it high with roast meat, and pickled salads, and breads of all sorts.

[Windowcel Alarion]

NPC Mellya
Mellya had lived as a hermit for too long. She was alone in the world, and nearly alone in this city; she had fully intended to let the midwinter celebrations pass her by. But then there had been a dress. Dresses didn't usually catch her attention, but this one had been hanging in the shop in exactly her own size, in exactly the color she loved to wear, and she bought it. One did not buy a dress and then refuse a perfectly good opportunity to wear it.

As the young woman entered the Tavern she felt a familiar pang of fear that she would be seen. She had always preferred to keep to herself, doing her duty and moving through the world as quiet as a shadow. Since coming to Minas Tirith she was learning to be visible, and she reminded herself that tonight she intended to enjoy visibility. Her hair had grown past her shoulders and was swept away from her face to curl down her back. The overdress was a split tunic in icy blue, with flowing sleeves and laced up the front. The dress underneath was midnight blue and high-waisted; it made her look just a little taller. There was a silver cord at her waist supporting a small silver dagger, decorative, but providing her with a modicum of reassurance that was something akin to a child carrying a blanket.

Looking about her, Mellya recognized no one, but that was to be expected. She held her head high and tamped down the nerves that had started again. Perhaps a drink was in order before she attempted to make anyone's acquaintance. She found her way to the bar and smiled at the serving man. "Might I have a glass of red wine?" she asked. While she waited she turned to survey the room, where Minas Tirith's finest were beginning their celebration.

[Nienna]

Just when Nienna began to closely observe the goings on at the bar, Rallagin brought the bread. It was soft white bread and aside of it there was fresh butter and a tiny knife. The servant slowly put it next to Niennas left hand and took away her empty goblet only to replace it with a glass of Telperion Mist.
Busily he brushed away some invisible fluff off the immaculate table cloth just to linger a bit longer and to hear, what Nienna was saying, if she would be saying anything, that was.
"Ah, thank you", she said, noticing that he was waiting.
"At your service, Lady Nienna", he replied quickly and smiled contently, only to rushed away again and fetch the pie.
Nienna took the knife, buttered a little piece of bread and took a careful bite.
All was fresh and all was good, and the "Mist" tasted lovely.
During the many years she had been living here, in Minas Tirith, she had always enjoyed the feasts, the gathering with friends and the numberless dinners they had shared. Even in the last years and now, while attending alone, she would always appreciate a good meal, the laughter and dancing and the clanking of glasses and the songs.
Yes, the songs...
Somewhere, away from all the noise, on a balcony there were musicians attuning their instruments.
At last, she thought, and took another bite from the buttered bread. She loved the music and to watch the young couples dancing and soon the music was about to begin. Maybe she could beckon the lute player to play a song for her later.

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

The Lady’s smiles, laughter, and reactions to his comments did something to Thûllir’s insides that caused a warm glow to start in his chest. Her sympathy at the plight of his parents and kin moving from Ithilien to the city, and her unconscious gestures eased his heart in a strange way.

His attempt at deflection apparently was not very successful, as she honed in on his comment and backtracked with a mischievous glint in her eye that spelled trouble for his heart. Mock fights? Sight to behold? He was silent a moment as he tried to figure out a reply, and then ended up grinning wryly. “I don’t fight mock battles with quite the same attitude M’lady. Although I do always try to fight with the same level of intensity, the anger isn’t there that gives it an edge. However, I would be delighted to have the honor of practicing with you sometime. I am sure I would learn plenty, as I have much less experience with hand-to-hand styles of combat.” He shrugged slightly and shifted his weight to prop the toe of his gleaming boot on the bottom rung of the bar stool next to him as he mused over the prospect of that thought. He was not normally easily distracted in battle, as he had learned that in any fight you had to fight as if the other person really was trying to kill you. Fighting her though….He gave an imperceptible shake of his head. She’d probably put him on the ground pretty quickly with how easily he was likely to be distracted in her presence. He would deserve it too if he let her distract him. Laughing at himself, he tuned back in to hear her answer his question about nicknames.

Thûllir’s wry grin and bemused smile turned into an actual chuckle that rumbled out when she mentioned the reason her father had called her a little firecracker. He noticed her down the last of her wine in a slightly defiant gesture. He sobered back down to a mere grin and took the opportunity to take a deep and steadying breath when she turned to the bar, so that he wouldn’t by chance affront her with further laughter. He was furiously trying to translate firecracker into the Sindarin but couldn’t quite find the right word, when she turned her chin to look back over her bare shoulder at him, and all thoughts of translation flew quite away.

He had finally been starting to feel pretty comfortable around her, and now his chest felt funny again…sort of like a good kick to the diaphragm. Thûllir put his own drink down with deliberate slowness, willing his hand to stay steady – unlike his erratic pulse, and tried to tilt his head in a nonchalant and interested manner. He was interested in what she was going to say, and tried to convey only that with his eyes when she gazed back at him. She seemed to deliberate a while on what she was going to share, and turned back to the bar to order another glass of wine. Thûllir berated himself for being distracted enough to not think of ordering for her, but then she shifted back around and started to speak after a moment of further thought about reading in front of warm fires. Relieved at the change of topic to one he could relate to, he started to relax a bit. He liked reading in front of warm fires. Didn’t get to do much of it, but it was comforting to come back in from the cold woods and find warmth and a story to transport him elsewhere for a little while.
He didn’t get the opportunity to follow up on his thought too long before she changed the topic again to that of swimming. He nodded in sympathy to the lack of swimming options here. Even fewer opportunities in the woods, even with the sacred pool. He noticed her eyes searching his face but remained silent, and eventually she continued. Slide into the water…He almost choked from swallowing wrong when she finished the sentence, but cleared his throat and thankfully only flushed slightly. His silence must have been telling, and he realized he had been silent quite some time, for she continued on after a bit to say that what she loved most was having fun, before pausing to ask him about his life in Ithilien and waiting for his answer.

Clearing his throat again, Thûllir searched for a response briefly before settling that everyday activities were still a safe topic. “Well,” he began, “I admit I don’t get up to too much mischief, although small pranks occasionally help breakup the tension or sameness of the days. I too enjoy a book and a warm fire, especially on a cold night. Other times I pull out my wood flute if the mood strikes me, or try my hand at composing a song. The forests lend themselves to songs, although when out in them I only compose in my head. I save the singing of them for the safety of the refuge or camp.” He ducked his head. “Not much swimming there, although we sometimes can go out to the streams. It isn’t quite the same as swimming in a proper river or lake, and the Anduin doesn’t lend itself to leisure swimming either.” The bar keeper came over at that moment and collected Thûllir’s empty tankard, but was waved away at his questioning look. Thûllir figured he had had enough alcohol for the moment. This lady seemed to be heady enough to keep him spinning without any more help from drink, so the ale would be superfluous.

The break in eye contact helped clear Thûllir’s head a bit, and when he looked back his gaze was steady once more. “In the forests I try to identify all the plants and animals around so I know them by sight, scent, or sound. Still working on that one, as there is such diversity, but it should help with my tracking.” He smiled again slightly. “Most of my free time is spent in the caves or camps with the other Rangers, and we tell stories, work on weapons such as fletching arrows, or play dice and card games.” He paused again to consider her last question. “No, I keep busy enough, and travel is dangerous enough that I don’t come in to the City very often. Two or three times a year I will take leave and come for a week or two, although sometimes the Captain or one of the Lieutenants needs a messenger to run in, and then I might volunteer since I am fast and decent in the woods.” Perhaps with her here he might volunteer more frequently. Distracting himself from the thought so it wouldn’t show too long in his eyes, he spoke again. “You mentioned nicknames before…they come with time, but the one your father gave seems to still fit if changed a little. It may not be a proper use-name, but as far as I can tell the translation of firecracker would be pretty similar to mine. A bit rough, but I think Bregedŷrwen is a close enough translation. What do you think?” His smile became slightly shyer as he waited a beat for her response, but then pressed on to dare the rest. “Does it fit with your name? Or shall we try another?”

Thûllir looked away, not wanting to see any rejection, and belatedly noticed that the hall was beginning to fill with people and the bar rail was getting a bit more crowded. He straightened to nod politely at a gentleman standing nearby, but then glanced back and eased slightly closer. With quite a bit of trepidation, he held out his right hand to her and gestured to the room with his left. “Would you care to join me for dinner or a dance M’lady? I cannot promise skill, but I can try to promise devoted company. Might I have this honor?” He didn’t want her stolen away by some other gallant quite yet. Not when he was just getting to know her a little. If she said no he was determined to be polite, but he felt otherwise. His heart was in his throat and unknowingly in his eyes as well as he awaited her response of yea or nay.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Not quite the same anger in practice fights. Well, that was to be expected, perhaps. One of the corners of her mouth went up in a half smile as she pondered what he'd said about his rather limited experience with hand-to-hand combat. That could be interesting. In that case, she'd have the upper hand in no time. At least - if they fought without weapons. Perhaps a topic to revisit later... she would quite enjoy the opportunity of having a duel of sorts. She chuckled mentally, thinking of a way (or three, but who was counting?) to take a more inexperienced hand-to-hand combat fighter down. Priceless stuff.

It took a while before he replied to her question, but when he did, he reacted to all she had said in one long go. She inspected his face as he spoke, and noticed it was slightly flushed... Or so she thought. Perhaps it was the ale, she mused. It had been a rather big tankard. It was rather warm in the Tavern as well, that wouldn't help any either. As he spoke, though, she was distracted from those thoughts, and moved on to concluding he wasn't much of a mischievous man. Not that she was all about pranks and jokes herself, but now and then she enjoyed a good laugh and a bit of innocent excitement to pass a normal day. Thûllir seemed to have a more serious nature.. Perhaps he was even a bit of a brooder. When she heard about him playing the flute and singing songs, surprise showed on her face, despite her thinking a second later that it would be fitting for the brooding type. Her eyes gained a very pensative quality as she tried to imagine him next to a fire, singing. It proved to be impossible. She was just about to comment on that, when he moved on to the subject she'd broached about swimming. Turned out, it wasn't any easier around Ithilien. She noticed Thûllir waving away a new drink. Her earlier thoughts must have been on the spot, then, she concluded (wrongly). When he told her about trying to identity all of the plants and animals in the forest, she slanted her head whilst listening. A big task, indeed; and not one of her strong suits. Especially the plants. She liked them just fine, but didn't like the idea of trying to commit them all to memory. Knowing what was poisonous and what wasn't was good enough for her, though she realised she may have to work on that still, as well. As he mentioned that most of his free time was spent in the caves and camps, she nodded, and then wondered quietly whether they played for money. However, she chose not to ask. She knew some did, and others didn't; she hadn't played for money herself. Then again, she hadn't played at all yet in Minas Tirith, and in Linhir her friends never suggested to play for money when they played her. Not with a game of dice. They knew how lucky she was around dice, and wisely thought the better of it. A smile played around her lips, remembering.

He had gotten to her final question, and his answer confirmed her suspicions, though she hadn't expected it to be only two or three times a year, especially now his parents lived here, and his cousin as well. However, when he did take leave, it was apparently not just for a few days, but rather for a week, or two. That would explain it, she supposed. And then there were the messages that had to be sent to the White City, for which he at times volunteered. His comment on being fast and decent in the woods made her laugh a little. "From what you have told me, I would think you are far more than simply decent in the woods." She gave him an amused look and brought her glass up in her right hand by leaning her right elbow on her left arm, which she had crossed in front of herself. "Maybe you just don't like to brag?" she asked him, as she swirled the wine around in the glass.

It was around that time he returned to the subject of nicknames, and claimed that firecracker still seemed to fit her. Kaylin was just about to give a more or less cheeky reply in defiance, when she stopped herself and realized that such a response would only prove his point. As if it were a rebellious act against his statement, she took a big drink from her glass. But then he made a suggestion that accomplished something rather rare. In fact, something very rare in Kaylin's case. She just wasn't quite sure what to say to it in response. She turned her head to the side a little, and took a breath through her mouth as if about to ask something, her eyes thoughtful and also a bit questioning, but then he pressed on, asking if it was a good fit with her name, and she breathed out and closed her mouth, trying to judge his smile, which had changed a little as compared to before, though she couldn't tell what it was exactly.

The man looked away then for a while, and she took that moment to frown pensatively. She kept turning the glass around in her hands, staring at a random point in front of her as she tried to make sense of his suggestion. He had basically taken his own nickname and added a female suffix to it, she knew from her lessons. Was he just trying to be friendly and supply her with a nickname, since she had entrusted to him that no friend had ever given her one? However, then why would he make it an adaption of his own? It would decrease his nickname's originality, for one, and people who knew them both would always link them to each other because of the great similarity between the names. Pretty big 'consequences' just for being friendly, to Kaylin's mind.

She knew she'd have to react to it soon enough though; he wouldn't look away forever. She looked for a way to make light of the suggestion, and gratefully realised she hadn't even told him her name yet. That could work, she figured, and relief relaxed her body language just as Thûllir glanced back at her. Kaylin smiled at him, to make sure he didn't think she was offended by his earlier suggestion, and she was just about to put her glass down when she noticed that he came a tiny bit closer, something she wouldn't have given a second thought to only moments before. Now, however, the nickname business had made her wonder a bit. Her eyes were drawn to his right hand as he held it out for her and suggested they eat together, or maybe even share a dance. Kaylin realized she was still looking at that hand a few seconds later. She told herself she was being ridiculous overthinking it, and she was just about to dismiss her thoughts and give him another smile and a pleasant answer, only to see a look in his eyes that kept her quiet once again as she tried to figure out what it was. Were those.. nerves that she saw? She recognized it with a jolt. That was it! He was nervous!

That realization led to ambiguous results. First of all, she thought it absolutely adorable. He had no reasons to be nervous, since he had been perfectly pleasant all the while they had been talking, and he should be aware by now that she was a social creature who wouldn't pass up on the opportunity of getting to know someone new better. But still, there he was, being nervous, plain for her to see. Part of her wanted to laugh, clasp his hand in both of hers and tell him to relax; that she wouldn't drop-kick him for asking her such things. Secondly, and strangely, the realization made her nervous as well. Hmm. That was unexpected.

Knowing it might not make her come off that well, but not really caring at the moment, she dunked the rest of the wine, and then without looking at what she was doing, she put the empty glass on the bar (successfully, to the happiness of the attendants). She used that small moment to suppress the second and uneasy feeling, and to focus on the first one. Then, she put her left hand in his right, giving it a little squeeze, and nodded her agreement. In reality she should have specified what exactly she was agreeing to, since Thûllir had suggested two things. However, whether the reason was that they had to pass the dance floor before coming to the food tables, or that Thûllir had seemed to focus more on his second suggestion - considering he had referred to skill, and eating didn't require much of that -, the dance floor was where they both headed to.

On the short way to it, she secretly glanced at the man and now wondered whether his earlier blush had been due to the ale, or due to something else. She wanted to say something to put a stop to her long silence, before things could maybe get too awkward. By all means, she should have said something in reply to his question instead of just accepting his hand and nodding. The trouble was, she couldn't quite think of something. When they inevitably trailed to a stop on the dance floor, Kaylin dipped her head and curtsied (albeit only slightly; she thought it a bit over the top to curtsy too low, as she had been taught, and did it more in her own way), thinking as she did so that there was no point in pondering on possible awkwardness or getting nervous, and at that moment she decided to just ignore it. In the end, it had taken longer suppress the nervous feeling than she would have wanted, but she had at least succeeded - for now. When she looked back up, lights were in her eyes and a slight smile upon her face. In a fluid motion, she stepped closer to Thûllir and placed her right hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to put his free hand on her side or on her back -she wasn't sure what he would opt for-, and her smile grew a little in the meanwhile, her eyes locked on his as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Her left hand, which he had been holding, moved as to open his right hand and then hold it again in a way better suited for dancing, though never breaking the contact between their hands; and she didn't look away from his eyes as she did so. "My name's Kaylin, by the way," she said softly, and even though it was obvious she had already agreed, she added: "And I'd be delighted to dance with you, Thûllir Bregedŷr."

[Merl Moriestiel]

Thura Arvan

She carefully patted her hair to make sure it was still in place as she walked up to the door of the Tavern of the Seven Stars. Her mother's clever fingers had braided her long dark hair in an elaborate braid around her head for this special occasion of the Midwinter Ball, and she was slightly terrified that the short walk from their house to the tavern might have mussed it. She found everything still in place and breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to look her best tonight. She and her mother had been preparing for this for weeks, first by carefully selecting fabrics at the market and sewing it all together into what she was wearing now: a soft red silk gown with long sleeves that widened at the elbow, a curve-hugging bodice - with a heart-shaped neckline and sequins sewn around the neck- and hipline - that flared out at the hips into a full A-line skirt and embroidery on the lower hem and around the sleeves. They had taken a full week and several pricked fingers to put it all together, but now she felt a perfect princess, down to the red rose in her hair at the nape of her neck.

As she entered the establishment a boy offered to take her cloak, and she gratefully released it into his custody. Her green eyes looked around the room, drinking in the beautiful decorations and wonderful clothes of the other guests, before moving to the bar.
"May I please have some water first," she asked demurely. She was thirsty, but alcohol wasn't for thirst but for enjoyment. Taking the glass of fresh spring water - they certainly had wonderful things here - put some coins on the bar in payment and turned her attention to the banquet table. She sniffed in the wonderful smells of savoury meat and delicious soups and pastries.

She moved towards the nearest table, picked up a plate and carefully selected her first course - a vegetable soup with bits of chicken floating in it. Next to her, a man who looked uncomfortable in his holiday clothes was heaping his plate as if he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. She smiled shyly and spoke to him (Maedhros).

"Isn't it all wonderful? The Midwinter Ball is always the highlight of the season. Have you attended before?"

[Galastel]

Elphir had gone to some effort to have the Yuletide off duty. There was hardly a ranger who did not want to get back to the White City for the festive season. It turned out, however, that having a wife and two small children gave some priority in getting the precious time at home.
The ranger had not seen the joy the promise of his return had caused at home, but when he opened the door of his house late in the afternoon of the 23^rd, he was not even allowed to take his bag off before Galastel and Anardil rushed at him, both expecting to be lifted and hugged, the little boy making a face at his father's scratchy beard, the girl eager to tell her dad everything that happened at home in the time he was away. And his fair Laurenel was looking on at the scene, her eyes shining. The ranger had come home from Ithilien tired and dirty, in sore need of a bath and a shave. But before all that, his heart was aching for his wife. He walked up to her, and kissed her hands. Before the children, he showed restraint. But his love was there: in the gentleness of his touch, in how long his lips tarried over her fingers, in his eyes that could no more leave her face than a parched wanderer could leave an oasis in the desert.


One of the main reasons Elphir had wanted to come home for midwinter, rather than a few weeks earlier or later, was the annual midwinter ball. Elphir had been taught to dance as a child – it was part of the education his father had considered essential for a young man. But he had not learnt to enjoy dancing until he met Laurenel. Laurenel, on the other hand, revelled in the dance: in the music, and in the movement. She was graceful as a swan, slender, and with a natural flair on the dance-floor. At times, it seemed she was the music's toy, swirled by it like a leaf in the wind. Other times, the music appeared to obey her, anticipating her whims and creative variations. Both were illusions, of course, created by the woman's talent.


And so, the long-expected day arrived. The sun went down. The Tavern of the Seven Stars opened its doors. Elphir and Laurenel weren't the first to arrive. With two children who had to be put to bed, leaving the house took time. Anardil had wanted to play with his father some more, and who could blame him when Elphir had been away for so long. And Galastel would not go to bed until she had seen her mother wearing the beautiful dress, and spinning in the living room. “When would I be old enough to go dancing too?” she had asked sleepily.
“When you're fifteen, dear. I promise, you will go to your first ball in a dress the colour of dawn on the tower of Ecthelion, more beautiful than this one, and all the young soldiers will be asking you for a dance.” Laurenel had answered her daughter, and kissed her goodnight.


At last, they walked into the Tavern of Seven Stars. Elphir looked resplendent, a tall handsome man in the black and silver of the Dagarim Aran dress uniform. Laurenel, her hand resting on her husband's arm, was radiant. Remembering how Elphir had said once that red suited her, she had picked a burgundy dress, strapless, with a skirt slashed on one side, revealing another skirt below. The bodice and the lower skirt were decorated with a design of white sequins that sparkled in the candlelight, but the upper skirt was of plain silk. The colour indeed suited Laurenel, bringing out the rose in her snow-white shoulders, and the fresh flush in her cheeks. Her raven-black hair was gathered in an intricate updo, and falling on one shoulder.


A step behind them, walked Elphir's young sister-in-law Arinelle, Woman of Arms in the Dagarim Aran. It was Arinelle's first winter in Minas Tirith, first Midwinter Ball here. When she walked into the Tavern of the Seven Stars, her eyes widened in surprise and delight at the elegant decorations. True, the young woman was more at home among the dance of steel and the song of arrows than here, but she could not fail to appreciate the beauty of the event.
Arinelle herself looked very different from her usual informal self. The emerald green of her dress brought out the green flecks in her brown eyes. Her hair, usually a curly bush, was arranged today in a low chignon, with a silver and green pin stuck in it. In her ears were matching silver and green earrings. Laurenel had been in charge of her younger sister's look for that day: her dress, her hairdo, her make-up. Now Arinelle felt strange. It was still her in that dress – vibrant and merry, but she also appeared to be a lady. She had looked into the mirror, and found herself liking what she saw.


Elphir had ordered a table for three, but Arinelle did not feel like sitting down to eat just yet. Instead, she looked around, trying to drink in the atmosphere. By the time they had come in, the Tavern of the Seven Stars was already full of guests, though many more would be coming. The tavern was alight with many candles, and in this warm light gleamed many-coloured dresses, and bright jewels, and cut crystal glasses. There was music, and everywhere around people were smiling. Everything was beautiful, festive, joyful.
The young woman noticed her room-mate Kaylin, already dancing with a young man. In her elegant white dress, and with that flaming red hair, Kaylin looked stunning. It was no wonder she was among the first on the dance-floor.
At one of the tables, Arinelle spotted another room-mate, Elesil. Or in truth, she spotted Elenmire first, and so found his mistress. Since Elesil appeared to be sitting alone for the moment, Arinelle walked up to her. “Happy midwinter, Elesil!” she spoke, smiling broadly. “May I join you?” Even as she spoke, she extended her left hand to Elenmire, allowing the wolf to smell her, and then proceeding to scratch him behind the ear. Some would say that it was unhygienic, impolite, a breach of etiquette, to pet an animal when she was about to eat, or to dance. But Arinelle just couldn't resist: she liked this particular wolf too much.

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr
This lady bemused and befuddled him with her comments and way of laughing, and her very presence, yet at the same time he had not felt more grounded than with her. Without a name to give her, he had begun to think of her as his lady, but wasn’t sure when the transition had taken place. She had been silently watching him for some time now, first staring at his hand and then looking into his eyes with a look he couldn’t quite interpret, and yet which dug hooks of anxiety into his soul. Maybe he wasn’t pulling off the just acting friendly part very well. Perhaps she was upset or thought him presumptuous in offering her a nickname or his company? The few short moments seemed both timelessly tortuous and yet worth all the waiting in the world, for then, wonder of wonders, she accepted his hand!

Just when he had thought for sure that she would turn away with a polite “no thank you kind sir,” or laugh at the suggestion, she got a more thoughtful look in her eye that gave him a slight hope. Tossing back the rest of her glass of wine in a manner that made his eyebrows shoot up in admiration, she kept her eyes on him, placed her glass on the bar without looking, and placed her hand in his! Thûllir’s heart soared and his eyes lit as she gave his fingers a slight squeeze of acceptance and a small nod.

Seemingly by mutual agreement they made their way to the dance floor in silence. He was too afraid to ruin it by speaking, so when they halted and she turned to curtsy and then step close with lights in her eyes and a slight smile as she placed her hand on his shoulder, he was quietly elated. Not angry then…was his internal whisper, and his lips twitched up into a small warm smile at the thought. He let her unfold his right hand and change the clasp as she moved closer, still waiting for a verbal cue to speak. Tentatively, he reached out his left hand to settle it at her waist for a moment, as she had initiated the closer contact. Thûllir would be willing to dance in silence, but didn’t think she would choose to do so.

While he was right, when she did speak it wasn’t quite what he expected to hear. His heart sighed when she looked into his eyes and spoke: "My name's Kaylin, by the way," she said softly, "and I'd be delighted to dance with you, Thûllir Bregedŷr." His eyes widened briefly, and then his smile broadened, and he gave a slight tug at her waist to bring her a little closer. Maintaining eye contact, he brought their clasped hands to his lips and lightly brushed her knuckles with a feathery kiss before placing her hand on his shoulder and holding it there a moment. “Kaylin” He whispered as if tasting the sound of her name for a song. “An enchanting name M’lady Maethŷr.” He slid his hand down her arm and back to her waist, settling it at the small of her back. With a twinkle in his eye, he smiled down at her as he took her right hand in his left to lace their fingers together, and stepped out to join the music.

Guiding her gently but firmly around the dance floor, they glided over the boards with surprising smoothness. Thûllir didn’t normally like to dance, having put up with Karis’ cajoling only long enough to learn the basics and stop bruising her toes when they would try for a spin. However, it was pure pleasure to dance with this woman in his arms. After one turn around the floor, he worked up the courage to try a little teasing. Leaning in closer so only she could hear him, he murmured in her ear. “So what about that nickname M’lady Kaylin of Linhir? If Bregedŷrwen doesn’t please you, perhaps Rhoewen or Rhomaethŷr would suit? Or…” He became more daring, “Bainrŷn, Bainhûr, or even Braigbain?” He didn’t let her dwell on the words too long, as he drew back to whirl her out from his arms into a spin and then curled her back in again. “Although maybe I shouldn’t suggest that anyone else call you by those. You are enough of a Luithien without giving them ideas.” He looked at her with a teasing glint in his eye, yet half-serious. For having been so tongue-tied earlier, her gifting him her name seemed to unlock something in his artistic nature, and he leaned in to murmur again. “May I reserve those for my own use Kaylin?” His tone was low and questioning, even as they spun through the moves of the dance with a slight flair that belied his quiet tone. He was quite interested in her reply.

[Elesil Narsil]

Elesil looked up as Arinelle approached. "You are more than welcome to, Arinelle. Happy Midwinter to you also. What a beautiful dress you have on!" Elesil wiped her hands on the napkin she had before getting up to hug Arinelle. "Is this your first Midwinter Ball? I have attended a few in my time, but this one is even more lovely than all the other ones."

Elenmire smiled as he was scratched. He really did like Arinelle, mainly because she was always so nice to him. After Arinelle was done scratching him, he curled up at Elesil's feet. "Elen really has taken a liking to you, Arinelle. You are always giving him a scratch when he is around and whatnot. Many people are scared of him and that is saddening."

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

She didn't know it right then and there - but from her last words on, Thûllir would turn the tables on her. For the moment, she only noticed that he seemed to relax a little, and that his smile grew. Then he used his left hand, which he had chosen to place on her waist, to pull her a little closer than they already were. She wasn't prepared for that, and as she had just been breathing in, the tug turned what would have been a calm, easy breath into a short and hasty one. She was about to frown at that, but the man in front of her gave her no time to: he brought her left hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against it. Kaylin might have stopped him if she could have managed to pull her eyes away from his, but they had a firm lock on hers. He repeated her name as if it was one of the most interesting words he'd ever heard, almost as if he wanted to taste it, by which she was taken aback. He didn't just stop there either, but placed her left hand on his shoulder and applied the same technique she had used earlier - never breaking contact. He traced her whole arm, and she could feel her face heating up, knowing he couldn't miss it happening since he was spellbindingly looking straight at her. He was doing a number of things that could be construed as rather forward, especially because of the way he was doing it. His hand rounded her shoulder and slid down her side to her waist, and then to the small of her back. Kaylin was unable to even mentally scold herself that she should have looked away and thus avoided flushing... but she hadn't. She was painfully aware of standing there, her hands on his shoulders, one of his on her back, the other on her waist. Thûllir then removed his left hand from her waist and took her right hand from his shoulder, fluidly sliding his fingers through hers and closing them around her hand. Kaylin got redder as she closed hers as well, but didn't realize that was the case. That twinkle in his eye.. When had he gotten this confident? At any other time, with any other man, she would have immediately called him out on it, but something stopped her this evening.

They started the dance, and as they did, she managed to finally look away from his grey-blue eyes and tried to recollect herself. She failed, though. Even though she noticed how strangely elegantly she was dancing, that wasn't big enough of a distraction to pull her normal self together at the moment. Nonetheless, she still tried to focus on her thoughts. Usually, she wasn't such a good dancer, mainly because she wasn't a very good follower. It went against her instincts to follow directions to the letter. However, she didn't seem to have that problem dancing with Thûllir, though she couldn't tell what he did differently from other dancing partners she’d had. She didn't counteract, or misinterpret him. She supposed they must just be a good fit... for dancing. She spotted a woman of whom Kaylin was pretty sure was one of her roommates walk across the Tavern. Arinelle, she thought, and almost in the same heartbeat: great dress. Kaylin lost sight of her roommate as the music picked up a bit, and Thûllir did the same with the pace. Then he leaned in closer, and all she had accomplished was nullified. Convinced that she would freeze up any minute, Kaylin felt her heart beat in her chest and worried needlessly that the sound of it was so loud he might hear. Stop it, she told it. You're not helping me any. When he started murmuring into her ear, she let out a relieved sigh that that’s all it was, though it still made her nervous enough. Nicknames again. Her eyes widened in disbelief as he made several new suggestions, despite the fact that it definitely enabled her to focus on the conversation instead of on him holding her hand with his own, and resting the other against her back. His suggestions were bold, and she felt some defiance spring up inside of her. She quickly grabbed a tight hold of that feeling and tried to expand it, so she could become more like her usual self again. As he spun her out she worried that she might miss a couple of steps, but halfway through she knew she wouldn't, and in spite of her nerves and defiance, she grinned at his suggestions and shook her head at his daring.

He went on and suggested no one else should call her those things, because she was enough of an enchantress already. She wasn't given a whole lot of time before he drew her in close again and murmured a question into her ear. It made her flush all over again, and tied her stomach into a knot. She took a moment for the redness to go down before looking at him with a puzzled (and, but only the tiniest bit, shy) look that couldn't hide she was trying to figure out whether he was joking or being serious. It was difficult to believe this was the same man saying these things to her as the one she'd been talking to at the bar. Kaylin narrowed her eyes a bit, and managed to give him a defiant look. "Looks like mister serious isn't beyond teasing. You didn't look this cheeky when I saw you standing at the bar, you know - but I see appearances can be deceiving," she threw back at him, in a pleasant tone of voice with only a hint of a reprimand in it. She was glad she could use some banter, since it was helping her. "We really should face off against each other sometime in a fight," she added, "I just thought of a few moves that would allow you to inspect the ground a bit better, Ranger." She emphasised the word in a way that implied that despite his status as a Ranger, she could still knock him down with a few tricks if she wanted to.

A thought welled up; she wondered if she could turn things around and make him visibly nervous. He certainly wasn’t at the moment. Out of curiosity alone she might have wanted to try, to see how he might react, but she mostly thought he deserved it, with all of his cheekiness. She wondered whether doing what he had done to her before would have the same effect on him. Only one way to find out. "As far as the nicknames are concerned..." The orchestra almost seemed mentally linked to her, since the music slowed down a bit again. Perfect. Kaylin paused and whilst dancing slowly closed most of the little distance there still was between them, silently looked him in the eyes for a couple of seconds, and then slowly moved to put her mouth next to his ear and whispered, just barely audible: "Why don't you pick one? It will be yours alone." She waited a moment, and then moved just enough to see the reaction on his face. Only after a while, she withdrew to her former position, creating a bit more distance again.

At long last, she decided that she was more comfortable herself with trumping his verbal cheekiness, and chose to continue down that road a bit more. "You find me wild, untamed? And dare to call me as such?" she questioned him in a tone of voice that demanded an explanation, but that had a tinge of amusement to it. "That’s rare. Haryal úruva fëa - looks like I am not the only one. Passing judgment so soon takes guts." Even though she said it in jest, she realized that didn't make it any less true. However, the difference between his earlier attitude and current attitude was so big, she wondered what had set it off. Her accepting his invitation? "You're pretty good at this," she noted, then thinking to clarify what she meant. "The dancing. Your conversational skills might need some work though," she continued. "Going from cautious to audacious so suddenly can throw people off, you know." She had to try very hard not to grin. "Not me, of course," she japed, "I'm a rock."

"What about you? Are you a rock?" Kaylin slanted her head and searched his face with a little smile as she ever so slowly moved her left hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and drew little circles there with her ring finger. "Or do you crack under such pressure?"

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr
This lady was pure delight. Watching her as they danced was proving to be a thoroughly enchanting experience for Thûllir. It seemed that his shift in word and action from his previous nerves was having some effect on her, for she had flushed quite beautifully several times. The first had been in response to his daring touch before they started to dance. Perhaps he made her nervous or embarrassed? He had known it was dangerous to proceed, but couldn’t resist.

Thûllir smiled down into her eyes as they spun across the floor to a quick step. She had seemed distracted for a short while by others in the room, but his teasing suggestions seemed to have thoroughly captured her attention once more. He had felt her slight tension when he pulled her close, and saw her eyes widen in disbelief before her grin and head-shake when he spun her out.and then back in again. This time, his suggestions didn’t get the same response when he drew her close. Instead, she flushed for a moment, and then gave him a somewhat puzzled and shy look as he pulled back to look at her again after his question, in a way that made his heart melt a little. She seemed to be trying to figure him out as she stared at him silently for a while as they spun through the dance.

Apparently she had now settled on what she thought of him, for he saw her gaze shift to one of narrow-eyed defiance. He was quite amused at her pleasantly-toned reprimand that came out more as an accusation. Cheeky? He pretended shock at her words, with an innocent look but eyes that couldn’t help but dance with humor. She seemed to be relaxing a little bit from her former moment of shyness, and blazed back at him in a way that had him commenting mentally, there she is, while merely smiling down at her. When she followed up the comment with one about being able to teach him how to inspect the ground if they ever fought, he broke into a broad grin and a short low laugh rather than being insulted as he normally would if someone issued such a challenge. Rather, he was quite delighted with her verbal riposte; both because she hadn’t completely rejected him, and because it seemed he had gotten a little under her skin with his comments…enough to make her spark at him with that look in her eye.

Kaylin’s next move was rather effective, if not in the way she intended. When she pulled herself slowly closer with the slowing of the dance into a gracefully sweeping movement, and then whispered in his ear with a breathy voice that he should pick an exclusive nickname for her for his use alone…the smile on his face gradually lessened into a mere quirk of his lips as his pulse jumped slightly, but instead of showing nerves, his eyes darkened their blue as he held her gaze. Her comment further thrilled him in a more quiet fashion, and he suddenly did have a name he wanted to use, but after a moment of consideration decided it was too soon for such a one. Instead, he stayed silent and continued to glide through the steps with her in that floating dance.

She seemed to be working herself up to something, as she withdrew back slightly to the distance he had been holding her at before. Sure enough, she questioned him with amused accusation about passing judgment quickly in calling her wild and untamed, along with something in higher Elvish - Haryal úruva fëa. His Quenya wasn’t used quite as often, so he stored it away to work through as he listened to the rest of her prodding at him about dancing and working on his conversation skills. Thûllir’s smile broadened again at the quip. He was sure it was meant to sting a little, but her words didn’t really faze him that much at the moment. Little did she know that it had taken him way more guts to offer her his hand and that first nickname earlier in the evening.
Kaylin’s words may not have fazed him, but her next actions definitely had an effect on his body and heart. She kept her distance this time, but the combination of her searching gaze, tilted head, and wandering, circling fingers was almost as lethal as that first sight of her across the room. Except this time she was here in his arms, dancing. Heat seemed to sizzle from where her fingers touched his neck, and go dancing and curling down his spine. His fingers tightened reflexively on her waist, and his eyes darkened further and turned quite serious as he considered for a few moments before replying quietly. The dip and sway of the tune was thankfully slow enough that he was able to keep them moving steadily, and this time he maintained eye contact as he spoke, close enough that only she could hear him and see every shift of thought or emotion in his eyes. “Haryal úruva fëa.” He almost murmured the words. “You have spoken true M’lady. Yet if you are a rock,” here a brief flash of a smile before reverting to a serious mien, “you are a flint that sends of sparks.” Thûllir guided them around a neighboring couple in silence before speaking again when they had gotten a little more maneuvering space. “And I, M’lady Kaylin am a lump of coal.” His lips quirked a small smile, and he paused for another moment, taking a breath and a chance before speaking again. “I was named Bregedŷr for good reason M’lady, and although I have never claimed to be a rock before, perhaps it is true in a different way.” He elaborated with all seriousness this time, and his gaze was both intense and gentle. “If I am a coal, I am a living coal that has lain dormant until lit by your spark…Your presence is the breath that has warmed it, and your gift of your hand and your name the tinder that has set my rock heart aflame. So forgive me my words M’lady, if they offend you, but it is that same spirit that draws this flame, and your breath that may choose to further it’s burn or, by the withholding, let it perhaps to cool and die.”

The song ended, and they drifted to a stop, but he could not release her quite yet. He held his gaze on her face, the fullness of his heart in eyes as the rest of the crowd drifted around them and started to pair off again for the next tune and the orchestra began to find the right notes again. Would she remain? Would she leave? His head tilted down slightly in question as he awaited her response. He was strangely calm, but thoroughly riveted as he watched her face.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

What is he so amused for, she muttered to herself in thought as she saw the amusement in his eyes at her rebuke, and he even laughed for a moment when she claimed she could beat him in a fight. I don't remember telling a joke! Sure, it had been banter, but banter based on reality. It was like he found her words funny because he didn't think they could be true. He didn't even seem to want to dignify any of them with an answer. He was just smiling at her. At least she'd wiped that smile off his face by whispering in his ear, she thought contently. It hadn't made him visibly nervous -which, granted, was a shame- but at least that smile changed into a quirk of his lips. That's all she got for her trouble, but she took it as a small victory anyway. Unfortunately, going back to verbal japes and quips made him smile again, just like before. It came to her that maybe he simply just liked that sort of thing, and the smile meant she was living up to his expectations. The trouble was that she couldn’t be sure.

What she did know was that he was perfectly comfortable with everything she had said, except for maybe what she had whispered, since that had sollicited a different reaction. Therefore, she had gotten endlessly curious about how he might react to what she had done last, and though seemingly relaxed, she was very alert to spot any and all of his reactions to it. She felt his fingers tighten a little, and his smile disappeared as his face became more serious. Hm. Interesting. It didn't throw him off like she might have intended, but it had definitely thrown him off, she pondered. She frowned a little bit in wonder and intrigue when she saw the look in his eyes grow darker. Or wasn't it the look, but his eyes themselves? A strange thought. He was doing that thing again though, where she couldn't look away because she had a feeling that might upset him in some way.

Thûllir repeated the phrase she'd thrown at him in Quenya, and told her quietly that if she was a rock, she was one that sent off sparks, and that he was a lump of coal. Her eyes grew suspicious at those words, and her hand slid back from his neck to his shoulder, to its former position. It was obvious that he was setting something up by saying that, and she wasn't sure how she'd take whatever it was that would follow. He looked so serious and his eyes were so intensely focussed on her that she knew beyond a doubt that he wouldn't be joking around or playing with what he was about to say. As he continued and she listened, her eyes widened involuntarily and her breathing quickened. When he was done, so was the tune they'd been dancing to. The two of them slowed to a stop, but Thûllir didn't let go of her, nor did he stop looking at her. He was dead serious, she knew, and waiting for her to do something. She took a moment to process it, however; this was a first-time experience for her, and it wasn't exactly the easiest one to respond to. The orchestra was starting on another song, and she saw how others on the dancefloor started to move around again. Some were throwing them glances, wondering why they were just standing there. She breathed in through her mouth and it seemed like she was about to say something, but then she held it in for a while before breathing out again with a shake of her head, and putting her lips together. Her eyes anxiously accused him of putting her in this position. Part of her wanted to smile and surrender to the warm feeling this man was giving her, another wanted to excuse herself and seek refuge elsewhere to think about what she should do next. So she did neither, but instead removed her left hand from his shoulder completely and pulled him decisively off the dance floor with her right hand still holding his.

When she stopped pulling him along, she let go of his hand and turned around to face him, removing all physical contact between the two of them for the first time in a while. It felt a bit weird. The analogy he had used kept repeating itself in her head, and she recognized it as a different kind of daring when she noticed the look coming from his eyes by that point. Her reaction so far hadn't exactly been the stuff fairy tales were made of. Kaylin found herself unable to make him wait any longer, even though she had wanted to get him nervous just a little while before, and she had no idea what words would leave her mouth once she opened it. It seemed cruel to hold her silence much longer.
"I am not offended," was the first thing that escaped her. "Nor am I displeased..." She paused and took a light hold of both of his hands, looking up at him with genuine eyes. "Rather the opposite." She looked down then and sighed as if she knew odds were she'd regret what she was about to say. "This will probably just make you even cheekier," she noted in a light tone of voice, avoiding his look, and then her voice grew more serious again, "but your words were beautiful." Her blue-grey eyes looked back up at him, a small smile finally forming on her lips. Her right thumb gently rubbed the back of his left hand as she spoke. "I can imagine you as a singer and writer of songs a bit better now." She raised an eyebrow after that, though, whilst letting go of his hands and crossing her arms. "However... If all you need to get all blazey and fired up is a hand and a name..." she then muttered, first planning on leaving it unsaid that it must mean he got fired up like this pretty easily - or perhaps even frequently. After a moment she decided she would continue after all. "...Doesn't that rock heart of yours catch fire often?" Even though she didn't doubt his words were serious, but she was uncertain about the matter she'd just brought up. It was a good thing she was lucid enough to ask at the moment, because she had no interest in womanizers. The afterthought that if he was one, he really wouldn't admit to it, made her bite her bottom lip pensively. He'd just have to convince her, she supposed.

[Pele Alarion]

Faramir

It was a nice evening, the stars shone brightly in the sky above, some people were walking in the street cuddled up in their warm cloaks, from some houses an aroma of late supper drifted, or of freshly baked cookies. Everything seemed so perfect and faultless. Faramir enjoyed it as he walked down the circles, for a moment forgetting what lay beyond the city walls, beyond the River and on the other side of the mountains of the east. It was not often that he forgot those things, and even now they lingered at the back of his mind. But he knew that he had to rest his mind from all that military planning as often as he could and enjoy the beautiful things around him, and share in the joys of the people he protected.

He came to the doors of the Tavern sooner than expected, but he did not hesitate to step within. The welcoming warmth met him, and the sound of music, and the merry conversations. He removed his cloak and then moved further into the room. Faramir's spotlessly white shirt stood out against his dark hair and the black colour of his boots, trousers and vest. His vest was rather unadorned but for four silver clasps that held it together and a silver belt that added a nice accent.

Skilfully avoiding the dancing couples, Faramir walked to the bar, while returning greetings and observing the people. Most were in twos or threes, though there were a few loners, as usually happened in the balls. He already made up his mind to walk up to a few of those and draw them into the midst of the merriment: he spotted Nienna seeming rather comfortable at one of the tables, and then there was a mysterious lady in a mask... Reaching the bar he called for a glass of red wine and then turned to the young woman next to him (Mellya).

"Good evening, miss," he said, having decided that he might as well start somewhere with his little plan. "I don't recall having met you before. What name should I honour you by?" His grey eyes roamed to the dancers for a few moments and a light-hearted smile settled on his face. "And aren't they beautiful?" he nodded to the dancers. "Perhaps we could join them, if you don't mind to have a dance with me?" Faramir knew that he most likely sounded rather forward, but he found it hard to resist joining the dancers; besides, he might as well satisfy some ladies' wishes for a dance while at it.

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

She had removed the tracing fingers from his neck after he started speaking, in seeming awareness that she wasn’t getting quite the response desired. Then her eyes had widened as he spoke his piece, but she didn’t respond right away. Rather, she seemed to be taking time to process his words as she stared back at him. Okay, thinking is good…I think? He analyzed each shift in expression. As the other couples started to trickle back onto the dance floor, he noticed her expression turn a little anxious, and she seemed to work for something to say. He wanted to help her, but had thrown the gauntlet as such and turned over the decision of action or inaction. It was her move and choice this time. If she pushed him away he would release her; if she led into a dance or otherwise, he would follow.

When Kaylin removed her left hand from his shoulder completely and stepped away, it was like a stone thrown was thrown in to the pool, and Thûllir’s heart took a desperate plunge of disappointment…but then gave a start and soared again when she kept their hand linked and instead pulled him off the dance floor! A silly little grin found its way onto his face as he followed her, but he quickly wiped it away when she came to a halt and released his hand as she turned to face him. His gaze became serious again as he saw how long it took her to respond to his words, but his heart turned over when she began to speak and then took both his hands lightly in hers before continuing. The opposite of displeased! And the look in her eyes suggested she meant it! He wondered at her tone of voice as she glanced down at his hands and then spoke again. She considered his words beautiful and could see him as a poet and songwriter. Thûllir melted a bit at the small grin she gave him with those words, and his belly twisted into a fluttery knot when she rubbed her thumb across his hand.

Delight built like fire in his veins, only to be thrown in with an equal amount of exasperated confusion and protest when she switched tacks on him as fast as the wind and suddenly stepped back to cross her arms and practically accuse him of treating her lightly. Thûllir’s mouth opened slightly in wordless protest at her posture, raised eyebrow, and muttered words. What? Why did she take away her hands?..What! How could she think? He first murmured and then shouted mentally as he gave her a slightly dazed look at her swift change. Then he heard the second question muttered low, and saw the look in her eye as she bit her lip. "...Doesn't that rock heart of yours catch fire often?" It changed the whole tone of her words, and he lifted his hands toward her in quick denial before catching himself.

Oooooh. Thûllir couldn’t quite decide how to proceed, and it showed on his face as the internal war boiled and raged like a volcano ready to go off. He was absolutely delighted that she cared enough to pull him aside and challenge him, horribly frustrated that she would think him so callous and carefree with either her heart or his, and feeling like he stood at the edge of a cliff where his next moves could send him plunging or pull him back to security. What on earth was he supposed to do with his hands now that she had taken her hands away? He clenched his fists as he realized that his first reaction was to want to throw himself down on one knee in apology like a lovesick fool or give her a good shake to show her he was serious. The thought brought him up short a little. Well, I guess I am a lovesick fool. A little of the wonder at the thought slid through his eyes as he continued to restrain himself and search for words. She obviously didn’t want a scene, as she had pulled him off the floor to the edge of the room here, and although he hadn’t a care in the world what anyone else thought of him, he could sense that she might. The tension sung through him until all he could do was raise his fists a little in frustration and give a quick spin right around on his boot heel to get the energy out and calm him down.

Finally, he blew out a breath and reached out towards her with hands that trembled slightly. Funny, my bow hand is steady in battle, but shakes at a woman’s words. He wasn’t sure quite what to do with his hands since she had her arms crossed, but finally settled on the dangerous location of her shoulders. Touching her almost made him jump out of his skin and yet also settled him slightly, as he gently but firmly gripped her bare shoulders and gave her an intent and earnest look. “No M’lady! Not often, or ever before!” His words were low and fierce, but touched with warmth. Needing closer contact even though he wasn’t at all sure if she would put up with it, he stepped in closer and slid his hands down her back to their original positions before they began their dance, bringing her within the loose circle of his arms. Struggling with the words, and wanting to convey both his affection and exasperation, he couldn’t help but tip his head forward to touch and lean their foreheads together briefly, his eyes closed for a heartbeat and a breath. Then he leaned back again to give her space as he caught her gaze. “No Kaylin.” He used her name again for the first time in a while. “It is you. You alone whose hand and name have breathed this flame to life. Your spark of life and joy and your smile, have turned me inside out and upside down, and then put it back to rights again.” He finally could give her a half smile again as he shook his head slightly at the nerves still zinging through him. “No other woman has done a thing to this heart of rock, nor likely ever will.” He mused pensively.

Pausing, he held her with his gaze a moment as he judged her reaction, and then glanced around at the now quite full room. Did she need to see this to be true? He gave her a questioning look. “I say this is so, but if you need proof, shall we go find some of your friends to talk to? They can grill me with questions and you may test my heart and resolve. I have nothing to fear in that regard, but it is you who must be satisfied M’lady.”

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

She tried to look at him as coolly as she could as she waited for a reaction. She had hardly had to wait at all for anything to happen. At her first words, he hadn't said anything in reply, but his eyes had said enough, giving her something of a hopeful, delighted, reassured look - she couldn't quite pin down the specifics -, and then his whole demeanour changed in a heartbeat the moment she'd uttered her muttered words. His mouth opened slightly, perhaps in a combination of surprise and protest. His look turned to a bit of a dazed one, and he started lifting his hands but then let them drop to his sides again as she waited and just looked at him collectedly. Inside of her head, a little voice told her that if she'd failed to throw him off before, she'd definitely succeeded this time, and she definitely saw the funnier side of that notion, but none of it all showed on her face.

Her inspecting eyes noticed how a plethora of emotions seemed to flash over his face. That was a first. The slightest details changed so fast, it was hard to keep up with it all. She saw how his hands curled into fists. Ah, then it had been frustration she'd thought she'd seen on his face. For a moment, Kaylin found herself wondering whether he would get angry at her for asking what she had asked, her eyes lingering on his fists. His frustration seems to be genuine enough. It puzzled her to see a different emotion in his eyes for a moment... wonder, was it? At what? she wondered, waiting to see what else would happen. A moment later she thought to see so much tension on his face and in his body language that she wondered whether he might burst. His knuckles were even whitening because of how powerfully he was clenching his fists. Unexpectedly, he turned on the heel of his right boot. For a moment, she thought he might walk away in a huff - which would tell her all she needed to know before she'd gotten too emotionally involved. However, he ended up making a full turn and faced her again, letting out a long breath as a teapot blowing off excess steam.

Her posture and facial expression remained perfectly composed as he reached his hands out to her - were they trembling? - and took a hold of her shoulders, vehemently denying that what she'd suggested was true, and even claiming it had never happened before. She willed herself not to flush this time whilst he stepped closer and moved his hands down the length of her back. The movement wasn't slow this time, he seemed to rush it a little because he wanted to convince her of his sincerity. She tilted her head up just a little to look at him now he was closer, keeping her arms crossed and not reacting in any other way. As he tipped his head forward, she turned her head a tiny bit to the left (not even quite a quarter turn), and instinctively leaned back a little, her eyes looking away from his. Thûllir touched his forehead to hers for an instant, and she admittedly had to struggle to keep herself calm and collected as what he was doing gave her the jitters and she felt like it was getting way too warm in this tavern. After leaning back again and catching her eyes with his, he offered her more words. The use of her name drew her full attention to what he was saying instead of focusing on how warm the air around them seemed. About halfway through, he managed a half smile, but she didn't offer one in return. Her face wasn't as composed as it had been before, but still carried a neutral expression. That probably prompted him to ask her whether they should go and speak to friends so he could prove his honesty on the matter.

That did it. Hastily and in a slightly distressed tone, her neutral expression changed completely and the word escaped her before she knew it had. "No!" She could feel her heart creeping upwards in her chest once she realized what she'd said it, and how, and felt like slapping herself for letting it slip out like that. She thought there might be different reasons for the suggestion than he offered, though, and they shot through her head in quick succession in conjunction with some other thoughts. She did know people here; she had met Elesil and her wolf Elenmire and Arinelle in the Barracks, but they weren't on such a friendly basis that they would think to grill Thûllir in any way. They would be friendly and polite, and maybe risk a jape, but that would probably be it. But he didn't know that; for all he knew she could know people in here that would make him jump through some toughly positioned hoops. Then again, he did know she hadn't been in the City for that long yet. Perhaps he was just trying to offer her a breather from their one-on-one interactions. If that was the real or main reason, that was actually really considerate. Or -- maybe he was just testing her, to see if she would take a chance to run now if he presented her with one. "Uhm..." She uncrossed her arms, keeping her left arm where it was but moving her right up to hook a lock of red hair behind her ear. Say something that explains that hasty 'no', stupid. She couldn't think of anything but the truth. Of course. Usually I'm quick on my I feet and can shake a good excuse from my sleeve in a matter of a heartbeat, and now I can’t think of anything. Her right elbow leaned on her left hand and her right hand ended up on the side of her neck as she tried to think of something, anything, to no avail. Her eyes were avoiding his face. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm..." Of all times, now I can't think of anything else but the embarrassing truth. Great. "... not ready to share you yet."

She didn't know how to proceed from there. She wet her lips and instinctively passed one of her right-hand fingers over them, still keeping her eyes low. "So... are we just going to keep standing here, you with your hands on my back like this....?" she finally started to ask him after a while as hesitantly her gaze finally went up to his eyes, and her voice trailed off. Restlessly, her fingers were now tracing her collarbone, back and forth. "...As if you're trying to stop me from running away?"

[Veowyn Girarion Alarion]

NPC Vandani Minrimmon

Even as the tavern filled with people, she took little notice. For all she knew they were on a cloud, the only two people in the world. "I'm all aglow, she started in a voice like she would to sing to their young son. "mmmm, and now I know."

Now due to the long slit in her form hugging gown, she didn't have to hold up her skirts to dance. She placed her free arm on her burly farmer's shoulder, while the other was clasped together with his. "The key to all Heaven" She sang in a whisper at his ear. "is mine."

She looked back to his eyes, her own cloudy with her feelings for him. Her chest grew tight, and had they been at home, their dance might not have lasted until the end. "My heart has wings, and I can fly." And how true the words. She gently touched his cheek, and she would have swore she could see the stars in his eyes.

"So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of..." The song was drawing to a close, and she reluctantly shook her thoughts from her mind. But, she stayed were she was, wrapped in his arms in the middle of the dance floor. "Dreams do come true."

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

Thûllir’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at Kaylin’s response. She had not said anything when he took her into his arms, and had not visibly protested either, other than a watchful stillness, and a delicious low blush that seemed to sweep her after he leaned in to touch their foreheads. She had given him no clues beyond that, as her face had remained carefully neutral as she gaze up at him and heard him out. Even after his confession she had merely looked at him with that searching quality that made him a little nervous, so it was quite unexpected that when he spoke of finding her friends she exclaimed “No!” with a voice and face that radiated a sudden touch of distress.

After the exclamation she fell silent again and looked away, so he let himself process the shock of her word. Did he dare hope at all, or had he totally lost her with those words? Did she not believe him; or believe him too well and not care for it? Or was she so despairing over him and his forward manner that she didn’t want her friends to see her with a strange man? Was that too closely connected to her everyday life? Despite her previous affirmation of his words, perhaps she thought him too rough? The questions tumbled in his mind as he watched her and waited for a further response. Her silence got longer as she didn’t elaborate, and his eyes followed each gesture with curiosity as he tried to decipher anything in her gestures or expression to give him clues.
Was that nerves that had her unfolding her arms and then playing with her hair? He could tell she was avoiding his gaze, and he let his eyes drop down to the beating pulse in her neck when her fingers slid down to rest there.

She eventually continued, “I am sorry, I suppose I’m…” his heart fell slightly at those words and wished she would meet his eyes so he could figure out why she was apologizing. His breath was shallow and barely there as he waited for her to finish the sentence. When the rest came, it both stunned him with incredulity, and filled him with joy. “…not ready to share you yet.”

Not ready to share him? Well! A smile slipped across his features as he tried to let her words sink in. Well! He didn’t mind that. Didn’t mind that at all! Thûllir’s eyes filled with warmth as he saw her wet her lips and press her fingers to them in a nervous and thoughtful manner before she continued speaking in the face of his barely believing silence. He was afraid that his face was lit with another silly grin as his heart burst with joy, but this time didn’t mind her seeing it if and when she looked up. "So... are we just going to keep standing here, you with your hands on my back like this....?" she finally started to ask him after a while, her gaze finally lifted to his own, and her voice trailing off. Restlessly, her fingers were now tracing her collarbone, back and forth in a manner that reminded him of a bird unsure of its wings or wary of a predator. "...As if you're trying to stop me from running away?"

Thûllir glanced down at the fashion he was holding her, up past those fingers in motion, and back to her face, before speaking in a warm husky voice tinged with amused sincerity. He could see she needed honesty rather than jokes since she had offered him the same, and was standing there looking so adorably unsure of their situation. “Not to stop you from running away, despite my wish that you stay Kaylin.” His arms that had been holding her rather loosely, tightened a little as his right hand found a better spot, but then he lifted his left hand to uncage her, and clasped it instead gently around that fluttering hand at her collarbone. He wasn’t so close that she couldn’t move her arm to do with as she wished. “I quite enjoy holding you, so could stand here all evening…” He lifted her fingers slightly to slide his into her palm, and then broke his gaze away from hers as he tilted his head down to brush a kiss over the knuckles, trying not to tickle her throat with his beard in the process. “…but I would be content to dance right here.” He continued, giving a slight sway of his body and a very gently coaxing pressure to her waist with his right hand that would only suggest and not force a movement. He glanced up and around the room again before nodding to himself and looking back down into her eyes again with a smile and a hint of heat showing. “…Or eat.” He grinned at her.

He quite wished he dared pull her in to tuck her head in his shoulder, but that was probably not the best move at the moment. Instead, he waited a few beats of his own swaying before suggesting a more concrete plan. “You decide Kaylin. Shall we dance some more, or browse the tables for delicacies? I also noticed that my Captain has arrived. Perhaps later…after some time…you would be willing to meet him? It is our custom to greet our ranking officers at social functions…He is dancing now, but may I introduce you to Lord Faramir later this evening? I would be honored to do so, but he will see me later in Ithilien if you prefer otherwise.” Daringly, he lifted her palm to his bearded cheek and held it there very gently before briefly tucking a kiss into her palm. “So what shall it be my dear lady?”

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

He had a grin on his face at first, a bit of a boyish grin, she thought. His reply was warm, honest, and brought her back to a more composed state. He removes one of his hands to hold hers, and she slightly raised an eyebrow as he now brought his head down to her hand instead of bringing her hand up to his head. Despite the variation, it resembled what had happened a bit earlier enough not confuse her so much anymore. Not that it had no effect... she had just learned to handle it better. She looked at him intently with pondering eyes as he spoke, and gave him a slight, knowing smile, shaking her head just a little to express the smallest bit of disbelief she was feeling along with the idea she might know what he was up to, as he tried to get her to sway with him and grinned at her. Now he had put most of his cards on the table and she had a sense that she'd largely figured him out, she felt more at ease, more like the Kaylin she was used to.

Eating. Now that was an idea. Her mind went over all the delicious dishes she'd observed before. She could also use a drink... though perhaps she should switch to water now. Thûllir was throwing enough her way to deal with as it was without adding any more alcohol into the mix. She listened to what he had to say quietly, her knowing smile growing a little in the process. When he brought her hand to his cheek, she slanted her head a little. She left his question unanswered at first and watched him press a kiss against the palm of her hand. Pushing back against his hand, she shook it off hers with a flick of her hand, but ponderously put two fingers back on his bearded face, following his jawline to his chin, leaning in a little. "Does touching it make your beard tickle?" she mused. Then she removed her fingers from his face and leaned back, even taking a step away from him whilst smiling in not so secret amusement. His hand slipped inevitably from behind her back as she stepped back, but she caught it as it happened. Turning a bit to look at the rest of the room, holding his hand, Kaylin thought about what he'd said before.

"If it is customary for you to greet your superiors at social functions, far be it for me to keep you," she responded. "I wouldn't want your Captain to think less of you because of my doing. By all means, when you see an opportunity, you should go and greet him." She glanced at him. "And I suppose it would make sense that you wouldn't do it alone. However, Ranger..." She lifted her head a little as she spoke and turned more towards him again. "I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself, you know." That was her independent streak speaking. "I can say my own name pretty well, actually - or would you disagree? You seemed to understand me just fine when I told you what it was before." A smile flashed across her face.

She felt like she was back in control, which transformed her back into her candidly open self. "I think it's time to have something to eat, and to drink." She eyed the tables a moment, before looking back at Thûllir with a somewhat accusing, but definitely amused smile. "Your advances have left my throat rather dry." Decisively, she let go of his hand (she wasn't about to drag him through the room the way she'd pulled him off the dance floor) and started walking, though she held her pace back after a couple of steps and looked over her shoulder, gesturing for him to catch up. "So we should probably fix that first, wouldn't you say?"

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

Thûllir had been hoping she would decide to dance so he could have an excuse to keep holding her, but as he saw the confidence building in her eyes he bemusedly figured she was not going to allow that. He was a bit disappointed when she shook his fingers away, but then was quietly thrilled when she chose to replace her fingers herself, and his heart shimmered as she stroked his jaw. The question that followed brought out an unexpected chuckle of amusement. Did it tickle? He grinned down at her, and his eyes lit at her smile. There she is again. She seemed to have found her footing quite well…it was a good thing he had decided to give her more freedom and familiarity. She seemed very sure of herself again. He gave a brief and silent shake of his head in response to her question. Didn’t mean it couldn’t tickle….

Although Kaylin then chose to step away, the grasp she kept on his hand reassured and grounded him. He felt a little like a schoolboy standing there hand in hand, but quite enjoyed the fact that she was comfortable enough to maintain that clasp in public. Her next words bemused, distressed, and delighted him all at the same time, but he bit his tongue for the moment and gave another slight shake of his head at her audacity. Blowing out a breath, he decided he better reply to her question immediately so she wouldn’t think he was disagreeing with that. “No, you are perfectly capable of saying your own name Kaylin.” He had quite the fond memory of that moment. “But if you do not already know Captain Faramir, it is my duty to introduce you…” He fell silent at that, as he saw that her attention had already switched to the food tables.

Kaylin suddenly looked back at him with an accusatory look and an amused smile, and her words bemused him further. His advances had left her throat dry? Despite her earlier reaction he really hadn’t known how much some of his words and gestures may or may not have affected her, and the realization suddenly left him needing a drink as well. The wonder of it left him a bit slow to react when she suddenly dropped his hand and started walking away. The sudden absence of her touch left him a bit bereft, but she then turned to motion him to catch up, and he responded with alacrity. With a few swift strides of his long legs he was at her side, and then adjusted his pace to hers. “Yes we should remedy that quickly M’lady.” He touched her back lightly, both to nudge her gently towards the tables, and to fill that strange need for contact, and then left it to almost hover, so light was the pressure. “Perhaps we should fill our plates first though, as it is hard to do so while holding a glass.” Thûllir tried to keep his tone as light as his touch, as he was quite enjoying her confident spirit but didn’t want to make her shy away again.

Once they reached the tables he couldn’t quite resist a brief movement that slid his hand up and down again in an almost apologetic farewell, before removing his hand and instead offering her a plate to take through the line. “After you…” He gestured to the table. While his attention was supposedly on the food selections that he perused, he spoke quietly to her in a slightly jovial tone as they made their way along. “About the introduction Kaylin…first of all, although I give my Captain all due respect, honor, and allegiance as befits his station, rank and skill, I acknowledge no man as my superior. He is my senior and my leader.” Thûllir paused a moment, and then continued, his gaze still on the food. “About your name…as I said before it is my duty to introduce you, and if I do not give your name it will mean I profess not to know you at all. While I acknowledge our acquaintance has been short, and you are quite your own woman, would you deny that I know you at least a little Kaylin?” He gaze finally lifted to peruse her features. “Will you not admit friendship?” He knew he had no control over how his officer and others may interpret that introduction, but it was somewhat an all or nothing acknowledgement, and the question remained in his eyes despite his smile. They were getting close to the drinks and returning to find a table, but he fell silent and let her continue as she wished – whether it was to answer him now or later. He was in no hurry to join others, quite enjoying their time alone, but still wanted an answer.

[Windowcel Alarion]

NPC Mellya
The serving man at the bar was quick, and handed her a crystal glass filled with red wine. She accepted it without really paying attention and took a sip, savoring the dryness of the wine and wondering what she should do next. The dancing looked like fun, but it had been a very long time since she had participated in one… Before she knew it, she had finished the whole glass of wine and spent the whole time watching others. She ordered a second glass without thinking or looking behind her, and barely turned when she heard the crystal ‘clink’ against the counter.

She started when she felt a hand on her arm and turned back to the man at the bar. He gave her a very friendly smile. “You have someone coming to meet you, my lady?” he asked smoothly. “Or are you going to spend the evening here?” He looked older than her first impression, and he was maintaining eye contact in a way that made her feel she should answer him. “Why would you say that?” she asked him, “I came to enjoy myself… I could have gone to any other tavern in the city if I only intended to sit at a bar and drink.” “Quite right, miss,” he answered. “So perhaps you should go ahead and enjoy yourself. Talk to a few people.”

Mellya’s nerves faded a bit into defensiveness, and she pulled herself up straight. “Of course I shall go and enjoy myself,” she told him. “I might even dance. I just have to introduce myself to someone… or two.” The serving man grinned at her and nodded, then moved down the bar to help another guest, whose voice behind her seemed familiar. Mellya turned around to see whom it was and caught her breath when she found herself looking up at Captain Faramir himself. He stood a full head taller than she, but his identity was unmistakable. She barely saved herself the embarrassment of gasping when he spoke to her. "I don't recall having met you before. What name should I honour you by?”

“My… I… my name is Mellya, sir,” she answered haltingly, her hand raised halfway to a salute. “I have been admiring the dancers, actually,” she answered him. “They do seem to be having a good time.” Beyond the fact that he was the captain and the Steward’s son, she had just discovered that Captain Faramir was rather good looking. It took her more than a moment to realize that his comment on the dancers had been accompanied by an invitation to herself. Rather forward of him, but he was… well, he was himself. She was not inclined to reject his request in any case. “Why, of course,” she answered evenly, although a giggle escaped. “I would love to dance with you.”

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

He shot into action a short moment after she gestured for him to catch up. There was no denying that he figuratively jumped into his first step, which was rather funny. And cute. Kaylin started off again as soon as she saw him move, but it didn't take him long to get to her. His eager words of agreement made her want to chuckle, but she managed to hold it back as to not embarrass him - even though she wasn't sure it would embarrass him, she knew it might, and opted not to find out. The hand he put to her back made her shake her head, but she kept the movement small so it would be difficult for him to notice. He certainly liked physical contact, or at least he gave off that impression. She wasn't sure if she liked to be 'guided' in such a way. Kaylin knew she was headed to the tables anyway, and that any kind of guidance wouldn't matter since where she wanted to go and where she would be guided overlapped anyway, but she supposed it was the principle of the matter that nagged at her. However, the contact quickly became very light; he hardly put any pressure against her back at all, which took away the feeling he was trying to steer her into a certain direction. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, part of her still felt like it was a bit... what was the word?... Possessive? The reason she didn't object was because she didn't think that was what motivated him; or more precisely, she didn't think he had put his hand on his back with the conscious idea to convery a deliberate message to the rest of the room. Sometimes she wished she could read everyone's intentions and reasonings off their foreheads...

What he said about first filling a plate before getting a drink made perfect sense, but still the same voice in the back of her mind told her he was correcting her. How ridiculous, she thought. You can't argue with a sound reasoning like that. Besides, he had said 'perhaps'. Stop being so rebellious. Instead, she nodded her agreement. As they got to the tables lined with food, his hand quickly brushed up and down her back, and she reflexively rolled her right shoulder at the feeling. She accepted the plate he offered her with a smile, and then pondered what to fill it with. There were so many options, it was hard to choose. At the beginning of the evening, she'd been planning on having several helpings, since she could easily manage it and the selection was just so varied... Now, however, she thought it might look weird to come back to the food - she was pretty sure it would look un-ladylike, even though she cared little for looking like a proper lady. With a slight frown as she was contemplating that, she picked a few things from the displayed platters. Thûllir returned to the subject of introducing her to his Captain. From the corner of her eye, she half-watched him as he was speaking, pretending to have most of her attention on the food. What he said about acknowledging no man as his superior almost made her exclaim a sudden, amused "Ha!", but she kept it inside, pressing her lips together amusedly. It was a sentence she wouldn't immediately have imagined leaving his mouth. He is proud. She was proud too, she supposed, but perhaps her pride was of a different kind. She had more of a pride in her independence. She liked a certain amount of pride - as long as it didn't turn into arrogance. The latter was something she severely disliked.

A guilty feeling caught her as he explained why exactly he should introduce her. Guilty - because she probably should have known that, she figured. Thûllir was being nice about it, but she'd been entirely lacking in knowledge on the subject, when she shouldn't have been. She couldn't quietly blame her parents, either - the red-haired young woman was pretty sure they would have informed her of such habits and etiquette at some point in the past, but she had to admit sometimes her memory was fairly selective on things like social conventions and some other matters she didn't think of such uttermost importance, compared to other things... Halting a moment, she turned a bit towards him at his first question, and since she didn't reply immediately, he seemed to feel the need to ask a second. It sounded a bit insecure, but not so much that it was blatantly obvious to her. She sighed as she gave him a thoughtful look. "You know me a little," she admitted well-naturedly. "Perhaps more than I might think, but I believe also less than you might think." Her eyes strayed back to the food, and her voice sounded surprisingly light. "As for admitting to friendship - I would, in fact." ...but it doesn't exactly seem to be all you aspire to, she added mentally. That might have been an obvious remark, but perhaps too candid - which is why she chose not to voice it out loud, lest it make him uncomfortable. "So I suppose you introducing me to your ranking officer--" she emphasized the word 'ranking' to convery she had specifically not chosen to use 'superior' due to his earlier words, "--would be alright, then." She moved on to the drinks and put her plate down to pour herself a glass of water.

"Tell me, though... I know I have told you about..." Her mind raced back to the beginning of their conversation. "...about this being my first ball; that my specialty lies in hand-to-hand combat; that I recently came to this city; that I was born and raised in Linhir; that I've only been to Ithilien once; about my preferred leisure activities and about my father's nickname for me." She shot a look at him after having poured her glass. Then she picked up both her plate and drink and moved out of the way for him to choose his own drink. "But pray tell what else you think you have learned about me so far?" Despite the way her question may have sounded, she was genuinely curious and had meant it in a friendly manner, which her eyes would easily tell him. He would have been able to deduce a lot about her personality from the way she had behaved; Kaylin wasn't a very introvert person. Yet she wondered if his ideas would be on the mark, or whether they'd manage to miss after all.

[Maldir Alarion]

NPC Malacor Minrimmon




There came such an overwhelming sensation of endearment within the heart of Malacor as Vandani took towards continuing the verse of their song, that the mere sound of her sultry voice brought him back to a time long before they had even heard it...Way back when they themselves were children pretending to be married and trying their darnedest to dance about in the grown-up wedding clothes they had discovered in one of her parents' wardrobes one fateful day. " Funny how we knew then just how things would turn out. ", he mused to himself as his green eyes closed for a brief moment of reminiscence to envision Dani at six years-old all decked out in that frilly, overflowing bridal gown of her mothers...And then to slowly open them again to see just how graceful the years had been in blossoming her beauty?...How fortunate was he to call this wondrous woman his wife!


Surely, the Minrimmon couple must have turned more than a few heads out there on the dance floor, for the flawless movements in their dance steps were filled with such syncopated fluidity that it seemed the two were gliding effortlessly upon a frozen lake with skates strapped to their feet as the short but sweet minuet drew to a close. " That they do for us lucky ones, my love...That they do...", his whispered words trailed off as the music abruptly stopped, yet still that haunting melody played on in his mind, and it was at that very instance when the rustic, young dairy farmer chose to care not of what any others around them would think.


They held each other in their arms snugly and shared a long, passionate kiss in the silence afterwards. " I think we'd better go find our seats and eat something before our appetites get the best of us out here Dani...", Malacor gave in a reluctant, yet sensual murmurred tone as his brawny hands instinctively dared to venture down past the rounded curves of her hips and come to a sudden stop when they touched the bare skin of her thighs that the slits of her glamorous, green gown had left enticingly exposed.

[Veowyn Girarion Alarion]

NPC Vandani

She wished that song had another line or two, but that kiss.. Oh, that kiss needed 4 more whole verses! Her hand was still in his hair as he spoke of finding their seats and getting something to eat. "You are right, of course, we should take a seat." Her lips spoke the words right into his ear, but she did not move from their embrace, at first.

His touch seared her sensitive flesh, and brought a flush of excitement. But as the music started a new tune, out of step with their thoughts, she was able to gain control without ruining the moment completely. Still pressed against him, she slowly turned, her hip brushing from one leg to the other. She smiled teasingly. "Now my dear, we aren't at home, or on the farm, where the only onlookers are of the bovine variety." She tugged on his Burgundy dress coat, and led him to a table.

The tension was still rising between them, even as they ordered the best of everything from the young man who came to their service. She reached for his hand above the table, while her ankle sought out his leg under the table cloth. It was so hard to fight the craving for him, that she could barely breathe let alone speak. She could only trace hearts in his hand as she stared with her deep emerald eyes.

The boy tried to clear his throat for attention when he brought them plates, and their wine...

[Galastel]

Arinelle, Elphir


Arinelle smiled with pleasure at Elesil's compliment. “Thanks!” she answered modestly, but couldn't resist sitting up a bit straighter, showing off her dress. She truly liked it, and was grateful to her sister for assisting her with the choice. “You look lovely too.” she continued. “Red suits you.”



“It's my first midwinter ball in Minas Tirith,” Arinelle answered Elesil's question, “but I've been to midwinter balls back home, in Dol Amroth. None were as grand as this one, however.” It made sense: Dol Amroth was a beautiful city, a prosperous seaport, the Princes had made it a cultural hub, but it could not compete with the capital. The young woman reflected on this for a moment, the differences between Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith. “You know, I haven't even seen snow until I came here.” she added after a moment. “It makes the whole midwinter atmosphere very different. Here the whole city looks festive.” She smiled, unable to put in words her wonder. Snow in the White City was truly beautiful. The glistening white of the snow and the cold gleam of the icicles contrasted the matte white of the stone, and the warm white of the marble, and above all fluttered the white banners of the Steward. Minas Tirith in winter looked fair as a bride on her wedding day, and at dawn, when the sun touched its pinnacles, it blushed like a maid. A poet could have perhaps described this breathtaking sight. The young warrior could only look amazed, and cherish the images in her heart.


Having had enough scratching, Elenmire returned to Elesil's feet. “Elen really has taken a liking to you, Arinelle. You are always giving him a scratch when he is around and whatnot. Many people are scared of him and that is saddening.” Elesil was saying.
“Well, maybe they're the sensible ones!” Arinelle laughed. “Seriously though, if I trust you, I have to trust your choice of companion, right? I mean, if I thought you were the kind of person irresponsible enough to keep a pet that might be a serious danger to people near you, I don't suppose I'd want you near me in battle either. I can't sometimes trust you with my life – it's all or none, isn't it? Since I do trust you, there's no reason for me to be afraid of Elenmire. And since I'm not afraid of him, I can see that he's faithful, and friendly, and handsome and fun.” She smiled, looking at the wolf, then continued thoughtfully. “It might also be that I was so quick to trust Elenmire because I've always wanted a dog, and could never have one. I used to play with my friends' dogs, so I knew how to approach one, and from there things just happened.” She shrugged. “It's natural to fear wolves, though. You can't blame a man for this. Some people can overcome their fear easily, for some it takes more time. Don't most get accustomed to Elenmire eventually, as they see him near you all the time?”




Seeing that her sister found company and was chatting with a friend, Laurenel turned towards her husband. She would have preferred to see Arinelle dancing, but the night was still young.
With a playful smile, Elphir bowed before his wife. “Might I have the honour of this dance?” he asked with a gleam in his eyes.
"I'd be delighted,” she answered with the same playfulness. She knew and loved Elphir's manner. They were married for eight years now, and still he was courting her, bringing flowers, remembering her birthday. At the ball, it was play. He knew, of course that there was nothing she enjoyed more than dancing, and that she wouldn't dance with any other man. But still, he asked, and he showed what a pleasure it was to dance with her. Now they walked together to the dance-floor, and he took her hand, and laid his other hand on her waist, and they stepped into the music.

It amazed Elphir, not for the first time, how slender his wife's waist was, after she had born him two children. He looked at her shining eyes, her milk-white arms, her dark hair, her lips like the soft petals of a red rose, and felt himself lost, just the way he was on that morning by the gates of Minas Tirith all those years ago.
Laurenel's feet glided on the floor. She was moving confidently, spinning with Elphir, accenting the figures with her head and her free arm. They were married for eight years now, but there was always something fresh about a ball. She was enjoying anew the strength of Elphir's arms and the gentle touch of his hand on her back. She saw his shining grey eyes and his handsome face, and she noticed how the long lines left on his brow by hard toil in Ithilien were gone tonight, but the first stray white hairs amid his jet-black locks remained, like a first snow on the mountains.

Looking at her sister from the other side of the hall, Arinelle understood at last what Laurenel had meant, when she said people didn't notice her at balls any more. Laurenel was radiant, beautiful and elegant, the way she used to be in Dol Amroth. But her light seemed to be focused now, shining only for Elphir, where once it would have washed over the whole room. An onlooker could see it, and say that Elphir was blessed, but he could no longer be a part of it. The young woman of arms felt happy for her sister, for having found such love, and suddenly she was no longer jealous of Laurenel's exceptional beauty.



"There's Captain Faramir.” Elphir said softly to his wife, noticing his Captain on the dance-floor, and pointing discreetly with his head and his eyes. “We should greet him later.”
Laurenel nodded. “Let him dance for now.” she answered. The Steward's younger son (both sons, in fact) was loved and respected in the city. Many would want to speak with him. But Faramir too deserved some rest from his public and military duties, and an undisturbed dance with a young woman (though no doubt the city would be discussing who he danced with for the coming week).


"Is that Captain Faramir over there?” Arinelle asked Elesil with a note of excitement in her voice. Half a year in the Dagarim Aran had been enough for her to learn to admire this man. Among the soldiers, Captain Faramir's prowess and leadership skills were almost legendary. Arinelle was surprised, though: surely, there was a Midwinter celebration up in the Citadel? She had expected the Steward's son would be there, not here in a tavern in the second circle. However, she did not voice her surprise. In Dol Amroth, she had hated the endless discussions of the doings of various local celebrities. She did not want to fall into this habit now, though Captain Faramir was certainly worthy of his fame.

[Elesil Narsil]

"I love the snow here in the White City also. It makes for the most wonderful atmosphere. I have been to a few balls in Lossarnarch and also many moons ago in Rivendell, but it is only Minas Tirith who actually knows how to throw a truly magnificent ball. You know if you look at snow close enough, no two flakes are the same? I guess they compare to people and friends."

Elesil nodded as she listened to Arinelle speak of Elenmire. "I guess you have a point that I have never thought of before. I have always had wolves, so I have always thought of them as a little bigger and a lot more hair than the common dog. Once you gain their trust, they are no different than your average hound, well, their howl is different that is for sure." Elesil chuckled at that remark. Elen had scared her once or twice when he was just starting to howl. She had since then broke Elen of that habit, but it was such a fond memory for her and her family home in Lossarnarch. "Thank you for your trust Arinelle. It means a lot to me." Elesil reached down and patted Elen on his head since he knew that he was being talked about.

Elesil was happy to be with Arinelle and watching all the excitement on the dance floor. She had two left feet when it came to dancing, so secretly she was relieved that there wasn't anyone asking her to dance this night. Maybe in the near future she would take up some dance lessons... "Is that Captain Faramir?" Arinelle asked. Elesil shook the thought of lessons out of her head as she looked around to see if she could see the Captain. Elesil secretly adored the Captain not only for his looks, but she had also heard that he was a scholar of the wizard, Gandalf the Grey. What she wouldn't give to study with him sometime.

Elesil looked around and noticed the Captain at the bar. "That is him for sure, Arinelle. I would know that face anywhere. I so admire him for his bowmanship and I have also heard that he is a student of the Grey Wizard..."

[Galastel]

“Every snowflake different? Really?” The notion surprised Arinelle. After all, raindrops were all the same, and if hailstones had some variety, it was hardly interesting. She marvelled at the beauty of MinasTirith cloaked in a snowy shawl, but had never considered the snowflakes themselves. “I'll try to look next time it snows.” Together with her curiosity and wonder at this new phenomenon, the young woman was hoping she wouldn't be outside next time it would snow. Never in her life, in the seaside city of Dol Amroth, had she known such cold as seemed to be common here on the mountain. However, she knew that there was no hiding – a Woman of Arms, watches and night patrols were her professional duty. And if she was doomed to be outside in the cold, she might as well give some attention to the beauty of her surroundings.


"Where's Rivendel?” Arinelle asked curiously, a little confused. She was sure she knew Gondor's geography quite well, but she had never heard of a place with that name. “Is it in Rohan?” Sounding uneducated didn't concern her too much – Elesil was a friend, and moreover, Arinelle had never lacked confidence.


It seemed however that the young Woman of Arms had a lot to learn, despite her parents' investment in her education. When Elesil mentioned the Grey Wizard, Arinelle felt lost again. “Who's the Grey Wizard?” she was forced to ask. “Is he really a wizard?” She had thought wizards lived only in stories, or else were long gone from this world, like dragons and ghosts. But then, she had thought the same of trolls right until she had found herself facing one in Cair Andros that summer. In the stories there were good wizards and bad wizards, wizards who offered you dangerous gifts, and wizards who offered advice that was good if you understood it in time, which story-characters usually didn't. And Grey – grey was the colour of shadows, of things unclear, that could be good or bad. What manner of man would call himself the Grey Wizard? On the other hand, if he was the Captain Faramir's teacher, surely he couldn't be bad? Of Captain Faramir, Arinelle was sure he wouldn't associate himself with anything evil.

[Rowena Annis]

Zara Ellenweorc (w/ her betrothed, Jaren)
Long black hair hung down her back in curls, delicately done by her friend Sanrella, (She refused to call her a servant. Rohirrim did not have servants unless they were nobility!) a gorgeous violet gown flattered her delicate frame, with a silver pendant dangling from her neck. A single lock (that remained only wavy as opposed to curly) hung over her left eye, despite every attempt by Sanrella to curl it and pull it back with a few more curls to keep Zara’s hair out of her face.
Despite her elegance in her Gondorian attire, the young girl looked very out of place, with her stern Rohirric features, and her impressive height. She glanced at her companion, a man four and a half years her senior, whose arm had her own. She had been here two years now, but her differences still got to her in times like these. ‘Jaren,’ she whispered, trembling in her boots a bit.
The man, blue-eyed and chestnut haired, the hair neatly pulled back, looked at his Zara, placing his free hand on her arm that held him. ‘Don’t worry, my little angel… People won’t judge you… Besides, the people who matter know your story, and love you all the more for it.’ He grinned at his betrothed, and kissed the top of her head. ‘Especially me.’
Zara smiled at his words of comfort. To think, a year ago both of them were hesitant about this whole arranged marriage thing… And now here they were, betrothed and quite happy. If only Zara could grow up just a little faster… She couldn’t wait to call this charming man her husband. She had stopped hiding these sort of thoughts from Jaren, and so she this time said, ‘I love you too, my Jaren. I'm glad Eamon pushed us together.’ She giggled happily.
Jaren smiled and led her into the ball. The first thought that entered his head was that they needed to dance. So he did just that. ‘My dearest Zara, might I have this dance?’ He removed her arm from his and took that hand in his own, twirling her onto the dance floor.
Zara grinned. ‘How can I say no when you do that, deore?’ She laughed as she spun out and then back into her betrothed. She gingerly put her hands into place, and not for the first time, was rather grateful she was tall. In moments, she and Jaren were dancing rhythmically and flawlessly on the dance floor, just staring into each other’s eyes.
Jaren smiled at his lady as he stared into those grey eyes that he thought were more like silver, but Zara insisted that they were more like iron or steel. ‘Don’t tell your uncle about this…he’d have my head…’ He tilted his head down and tenderly kissed his bride to be on the lips. He’d been wanting to do that for months now, and he just couldn’t hold back anymore.
Zara’s eyes widened at the kiss, but then she tightened her hold on her dance partner, and returned the soft kiss, having enjoyed the sensation. ‘Nice lips, Jaren…’ she said quietly when she broke the kiss finally. ‘And don’t worry, I won’t tell Eamon… besides, he’d tell Mama who’d drop everything she was doing and storm down Minas Tirith to get at you.’ She laughed delicately and said, ‘She’s worse than Eamon.’
Jaren’s eyes widened in mock fear. ‘There’s someone in this world worse than Eamon when it comes to you?’ He laughed and just stopped dancing for a moment, picking up Zara and spinning her in the air.‘JAREN! I’m supposed to be a proper lady!’Jaren laughed and shook his head. ‘You? A proper lady? Sorry darling, you’ll never be that… You are just the woman I love named Zara… That woman is the daughter of an ill-tempered mother who happens to be a soldier, and her birth father is… well we won’t discuss him. And your stepfather is also a soldier… Darling, you couldn’t be a lady if you tried.’
Zara laughed and then said, ‘Fine you win… Now put me down so I don’t keep showing all of Minas Tirith my garters.’
Jaren laughed and set her down. ‘And that’s why you could never be a lady… Far to blunt than what is proper,’ he teased, pulling her back toward him and continuing their dance.

[Isolde Alarion]

Mourgan 15
Andarion 15
w/ Nell

Entering the tavern Nell gazed with delight at all the beautiful decorations and then to the balcony where a lovely tune was being played by the orchestra. Isn't it lovely? She asked the two young men that flanked her. It's very lovely Mother. Mourgan answered as he offered to take her cloak for her. Let me take this. She nodded and allowed her cloak to slip from her shoulders revealing the deep green gown she'd worn for the event. Now, I want you two to enjoy yourselves alright? She asked as she turned to look at them.

Mourgan she knew would find someone he knew from the Army or the Marketplace to visit with but she looked at Andarion. He was quiet and not one to be the first to interact with other people..in fact she had to practically threaten him into coming. He would have been fine at home alone but she wanted him to get out more and actually perhaps make a friend. She reached up and straightened Mourgans collar on his tunic then she lightly brushed some hair out of Andarions face..both young men took the fussing in stride..it was useless to complain since she would brush aside their complaints and do it anyways.

She'd just turned around when the cooper appeared and offered his hand. Would you care to dance Master Baker Nell? She smiled. I'd love to..and I've told you to just call me Nell. He smiled and lead her to the dance floor.

Mourgan watched his mother disseaper into the crowd on the coopers arm as Andarions blue gaze looked over the crowd. Mourgan wasn't sure what to do first but seeing where the men where getting drinks he nudged Andarion. Come on. Let's get something to drink.

He led the way followed closely by Andarion who had no objection.

[Pele Alarion]

Faramir

Contented with a positive response to his invitation, Faramir offered his arm to Mellya and said with a smile, "Excellent, Miss Mellya. I would rather see you dancing instead of warming the chair by this bar." He led her unto the dance floor and turned to face her. Gently he placed one of his hands on her back, while the other held on to her hand. Yet he mindfully kept a respectful distance between them. "Say, are you a local or have you moved here from somewhere else?" he asked as they danced. "You must excuse my curiosity, but it is always wonderful to find out about the lives of the people in our city. People may assume that I dwell in the Citadel, but I can't be locked in there and want to be among normal people." He chuckled softly and thought of all the times when his father had tried to keep him away from the "lower society" and teach Faramir what he considered proper manners.

He led Mellya in a graceful spin and then steadied her again. It had been a while since he had danced; it had been mostly fighting in Ithilien and hasty military talks in Minas Tirith, except for those few times he had escaped and done some other things around the city. In fact, it felt strange to dance, but luckily he had not forgotten how to do it. Nearly avoiding another couple, he moved them away from the centre of the dance floor. "I suspect, my lady, that I might have brought you into the conversations of the city folk now - that's what you get for agreeing to this dance," he laughed. "But were you waiting for someone who might be jealous when spotting you with me?" Faramir laughed some more lightly, imagining that he would have to give explanations to someone.

Pele

They were a little late, and glancing in through the window Pele could see the people moving around. It looked very cosy and welcoming, and she said to Maldir, "It is a good thing that we were able to come. See how people are enjoying themselves?" She nodded towards the window and unwittingly hastened her step, desiring to join in. She was sure that the ball would be such a good closing to a rather tiring day.

Once they were inside, Pele would have dashed right away to join some known people that she could see, but her sense of what is becoming forbade her any such thing. So she shed her cloak as slowly as she could manage and then ran her hands over the deep blue dress, smoothing it out. It was a rather simple dress, not overly decorated and sparkly, but yet of a fashionable cut which fitted Pele's form well. Her hair was gathered up and a silver pin held it together. It was a welcome change from her everyday braids and ponytails.

"What shall we do the, Maldir?" she inquired. "Are you hungry? Or would you rather we join some company, or have a dance, or maybe all of these things at once?" her blue eyes twinkled with humour, as she regarded her husband to see what he would say.

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

Kaylin had paused when he asked her about acknowledging friendship, and then sighed as she gave him a thoughtful look. Thûllir’s eyebrow crooked a little at the sound and look, and he listened as she spoke. "You know me a little," she admitted, and his smile gained a little lightness before she continued. "Perhaps more than I might think, but I believe also less than you might think." Her eyes strayed back to the food, and he bit his lip in both amusement and slight annoyance at the light jab. His attempt at humor was apparently leaving him quite open for her wit. He appreciated that she gave him some credit, but that she thought him a little over-confident seemed quite evident. "As for admitting to friendship - I would, in fact.” Those words helped tamp down any annoyance, so he relaxed again as he followed her to the drink station.

At her challenging words about him not really knowing her, he gave her a bemused look and a small headshake as he gave her a slightly wry grin. She made the question seem casual, but he could recognize a test when he heard it delivered. Instead of answering, he poured a glass of water for himself and downed it right away. He needed time to think before answering such an important question. Refilling the fluted glass again, this time with some spiced apple juice, he collected his things and then turned to where Kaylin was waiting. Gesturing to the tables with a sweep of his glass, he finally spoke. “After you M’lady.” Thûllir gave a slight test of his own in return, while showing that he knew she liked to be in control. He was curious to see where she would choose to sit, but only gave her a patient and amused look as he waited for her decision. He wasn’t about to answer her question here…and since he was completely unused to risking himself in this manner, he needed those small cues from her as to how she was receiving him.

The look she gave him at that made him have to fight a grin, but eventually she turned and led the way to a table, with him a step or two behind. It was a bit trickier holding plates and trying not to step on her dress. He managed, and was secretly delighted when he saw the table she had chosen. Small, with seats for two, it was not centrally located, but not completely secluded either. A semi-public space that seemed to fit their level of acquaintance, while still giving them room to talk. That she hadn’t chosen a larger table that would have given an invitation for others to freely interrupt left him with a very mildly smug feeling. So…it was a test, but she was still not in sharing mode. Belatedly, he realized that since he was following her and had his hands full he couldn’t quite manage to be the proper gentleman and help her to her seat, but then a half second later he shrugged with the realization that it may have annoyed her to do so anyway.

Once they had taken their seats and settled a bit, Thûllir tapped his glass lightly to hers in toast and took a small sip before finally speaking. “So, you are wondering what I think I’ve learned of you in our short time here?” He took a bite and looked across at her thoughtfully, amusement and mild exasperation simmering together in his otherwise serious expression. He wasn’t used to talking so much even though he didn’t mind talking with her, and he briefly considered that he would much prefer to silence those lips with a kiss to shut her up, but knew that would likely make him lose ground. Answer the question already you goose! He told himself silently, and had to wet his own lips briefly. Then he finally abandoned his stiff manners to tuck his left arm in and lean forward on the elbow as he gestured slightly with the fork in his right hand held like a paintbrush tracing a canvas.

“You are like the flame of your hair that burns bright and warm under its own conditions.” His eyes smiled this time, knowing he would get a response from that, but continuing with barely a pause. “You are outgoing and sociable, not afraid to start conversations with strangers or have fun in a new place. Quick to form opinions and be sure in them.” Here he nodded his head in acknowledgement that he had been that stranger a short time ago. “You are also free spirited and as fiercely independent as that flame, normally very sure of what you want and in control of yourself, the situation and your reaction. When the wind blows threatening to test your boundaries, you flare to regain your ground and push back to find yourself and center again.” Here Thûllir knew he might be pushing those uncomfortable boundaries and was half-prepared for one of those flares. Not quite prepared, just half-prepared…he wasn’t sure his heart would ever be quite prepared for her reactions, but that was part of this strange and thrilling adventure.

Trying to give her an opening, he straightened up again slightly and un-tucked his left arm to place his hand open on the table between them with his palm up and fingers slightly curled. “That is not the sum of you, but a glimpse as I have said. And what would you say you know of me in this short meeting Kaylin? Any conclusions you have reached about my character?” His smile was warm and his eyes held a mixture of curiosity and wary hope as he waited for her reaction and response.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

At first he seemed to refuse to answer her question - or at least, right away. He downed a full glass of water first, as she waited with still quite a bit of patience. His "after you m'lady" earned him a challenging -and, yes- impatient look, followed by a quick frown, but then she turned around, scanned some of the tables to make her choice, and started off, careful to balance the plate of food and making sure that her glass of water wouldn't spill. With a bit of a questioning feeling as to what Thûllir would think of her choosing a table for two, she stopped at such a table and pretended she didn't think anything in particular about it -- even though in reality she had chosen after careful deliberation.

She sat down with the plate and glass still in her hands, having pushed the chair back deftly with a foot. Once seated, she first put down her 'loot' before pulling the chair closer to the table. They tapped their glasses together, Kaylin's eyes admitting she had in the meanwhile accepted he would answer her question in his own time. As he leaned forward, she leaned back against the chair and took sips of her water as she listened to what he had to say. Fascinated, she watched the fork in his right hand, the way his eyes smiled at her and the movements of his head.
Being seated, a bit more at ease, and back to her usual self, Kaylin didn't feel the need to flare - as he called it - at his words. She couldn't, really, since they were true. She knew herself pretty well, the good and the bad, the pleasant and more annoying aspects to her personality... Her blue-grey eyes searched his expression for a while, until an amused smile appeared on her lips and in her eyes.

"I'm impressed," she allowed whilst putting her glass down on the table with her right hand, ending up pretty close to his left hand on the table. "Even though you seem unable not to use imagery, that didn't stop you from painting a pretty good picture of what you've witnessed until now." Her smile grew a little as her fingers played with her glass on the table, turning it around bit by bit. "Now,..." She pulled the chair a little closer to the table, so she could sit up straight in the chair, but wouldn't seem to be leaning away at all. "... I thought you might bounce my question back to me. I certainly had it coming." She'd been expecting it, and had used the time he'd taken to answer her question to think about what she might say if he asked her the same in return. Kaylin looked at Thûllir with that fascinated expression she'd given him earlier, as if she was trying to read an intriguing and captivating story. "I will venture to make five assumptions about you, Thûllir Bregedŷr," she said in a soft tone of voice, "And you can tell me how true they really are."

Kaylin looked at his left hand, lying with the palm up in the middle of the table. She let go of her glass with her right hand and pushed Thûllir's left fingers more into the shape of a fist whilst slanting her head and leaning a bit on both of her forearms. Then she slowly stretched out his thumb. "One. You're more serious than I am. Personally, I'm serious if the situation requires it - on normal days, I prefer to actively make my own fun, and I can enjoy a fair amount of silliness to go with it. I think that is not you; you're more of a serious type." Her gaze went from his hand to his eyes, a pensive smile on her face. By touch and without looking, she stretched out his index finger next.

"Two; you're more of a quiet type... Usually. Perhaps not tonight. Furthermore, I think you are a person who can truly revel in silence; but that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with a quiet nature. I'm capable of revelling in silence, for example, but I'm hardly a quiet person by nature," she added to prove her point. Her blue-grey eyes flicked to his hand when she stretched out his middle finger to count her third statement, nodding her head a little as she spoke it out loud. "Three. You are proud." She didn't think that needed much more of an explanation.

She was a bit hesitant before stretching out his ring finger. "Four... I think you also know what you want. But perhaps you fuss over it a bit more than I would." Kaylin looked back to his eyes as if to check, and then added quietly: "Can't be sure of that... yet." After taking a deep breath, she counted off his last finger. "And lastly... I believe you're honest." Her gaze was very serious now, in order for him to realize she wasn't kidding about what she said.

[Karis Ziranphel]

NPC Thûllir Bregedŷr

Kaylin’s amused smile in response to his comments was a nice surprise, although he was slightly wary of her thinking he was too close or too far off the mark, and Thûllir's face relaxed a little as he listened to her words. Impressed…unable to not to use imagery. His lips twitched in an amused response at that. He had been using a lot of imagery with her. He did often think in images, but honestly the words did not often come out his mouth except in song or onto the written page through poetry, and neither of those had been frequent of late. He hadn’t had much to sing or wax poetical about. Affairs had been heavier on the heart until this night. That thought brought an unconscious softness to his eyes as he watched her scoot her chair closer and work her way up to her own guesses. When she gave him that look of fascination as if she was trying to read his soul and figure out the pieces of his story, he could only smile as he felt her regard.

Then she curled his fingers up into a loose fist as she proposed to tell him five things about himself. He didn’t dare drop his gaze to their hands as she did, as in a strange way he knew that would break the connection, and instead watched the play of thought in her eyes as she spoke and moved his fingers one at a time. Serious…yes. His face did settle down into more serious lines at that, and as she lifted her eyes to give him a pensive look he gave her a very slight nod. He could on occasion enjoy a lot of fun, but he was not accustomed to that, so what she said was true. Her words on having a quiet nature and being able to revel in silence and then comparing it to her own nature made his lips quirk again in the slightest of smiles.

Kaylin glanced down again for the third, and seemed to consider her words before curling that finger out slowly and looking back up with a nod. Proud. His eyes flashed a little defiant amusement at that one. She was quite sure of her assessment, but not quite so sure of his reaction it seemed. He raised his eyebrows in silent encouragement for her to go on. Interestingly enough she seemed to hesitate as she glanced down at his hand again, before unfolding the fourth finger. Fussy. Thûllir’s heart sighed a little at her slightly uncertain look, even as he wanted to laugh at her assessment. It amused him that she would label him fussy, but he supposed in comparison to her it would seem so. His eyes smiled back at her when she raised them as if to check his reaction to her words, and he watched her take a deep breath before continuing with a very serious look to say she believed him honest.

Thûllir let her words settle into him as he held her gaze for a few moments. His heart was full of many things, and he needed to figure out his own response before he could speak. He had put his fork down at some point during her words, and now reached his right hand out to snag her left. Slipping his fingers around both her wrists, he gently turned her hands palm up, so that his own hands would rest in hers. His head tilted to the right a little as he traced small circles on her wrists, and began to speak quietly. “Thank you for your honesty Kaylin. You have me sketched quite well with your words.” His eyes crinkled up to offer a small smile. “As for being proud…well that is true, but possibly not in the way you meant. I am proud. Proud to be able to serve my country, and proud to have some skill with bow and sword, though there are some who can best me there. But most of all I am proud to be the one honored to be with you here and now.”

Taking up her hands again he raised them as he leaned forward, so that her elbows stayed on the table, and slid his hands around so they were palm to palm with hers as he laced their fingers. Looking at them as if to check their fit with a speculative and contented look in his eye, he then slowly raised his gaze back to hers. He knew she might lean away at his next comment, but he couldn’t help but test the waters…and he had her hands. Thûllir's eyes darkened again as he leaned in to touch his bearded chin lightly to those knuckles. Quieter this time, he spoke low enough that only she could hear. “You gave me honesty, and called me honest, so I will return it, though you may not wish to call it a favor. In all honesty Kaylin…” He paused and then continued, “I would like to kiss you now.” He pressed a kiss lightly to the knuckles of her right hand, and then gave her a brief flash of smile before ducking his head back down to speak so her hands shielded his lips as he continued to hold her gaze. “But perhaps we should speak of Ithilien, Linhir, or the White City instead if they do not want a real Bregedŷr at the ball.” He fell silent at that, but didn’t quite stop; instead, pressing a kiss to her left hand as well to match the first, he gave her a look that was mixed with questions, amusement, and all the seriousness she had shown a moment ago.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

She was prepared to wait - patiently this time. In the short time she'd known the man, she'd learned he didn't hurry his responses, and that there was nothing she could do about that. Accepting it was easier and in the end more true to Kaylin's nature than getting impatient with it all the time. However, she didn't have to wait very long at all before the Ranger reacted this time. He curled his fingers around both of her wrists, which automatically made her look away from his face and to what he was doing. She watched thoughtfully as his fingertips drew circles on both of her wrists, and it hit her - based on tonight's experience - that he might not stop there and go and do or say something unexpected that left her unsure of what to do or say in response. The idea cast her features in a slight uncertainty, and her eyes were on guard when she looked back into his as he spoke. He thanked her for her honesty, and assured her she hadn't done a bad job with her assumptions, and then seemingly felt the need to clarify something about her third assumption. That put her a bit more at ease again, believing that he might just leave it at that. Proud to be the one honoured with her here and now. She would have at least mentally snorted at that, at any other time... or so she would like to think. However, she instead chose to slightly shake her head at those words.

The ease she had gained flew away quick as sand in the wind when he raised her hands from the table. There he goes, she predicted with a cautious look in her eyes as they followed exactly what he was doing before taking a detour around their plates to finally meet his own gaze. He leaned forward toward their hands, and Kaylin told herself not to worry about it - he had done it before and she'd been perfectly fine. The quiet nature of his voice as he started to speak again instantly brought the uncertainty and the caution to her face. I might not wish to call it a favour? Her expression changed completely as he continued, and for a moment showed a mixture of surprise, incertitude and a certain degree of nervous stress, along with an involuntary blush. She blinked, as if to check that this was in fact really happening, but didn't look away from his questioning, amused and yet serious eyes. Slowly, she took a deep breath through her nose, and her expression calmed somewhat, getting over the surprise and most of the nervousness, leaving a haze of uncertainty and now also careful thoughtfulness. The blush wasn't so easy to get rid of, especially since he kept pressing those kisses to her hands; the bold... the right noun to go with the adjective didn't come to her, and so she couldn't quite finish her thought. His next words helped her focus a bit on her own reaction. It was hard to just respond to in a quick manner, and so she figured this time she could make him wait as she decided on her words.

Her eyes looked away from his. The rest of her water looked really appealing right about now, but Thûllir had a rather good hold of her hands, and she found herself not minding it at all, so the water could wait. To convey the sentiment, instead of just letting her hands be held by his, she in turn exerted a mild pressure on his hands with her fingers. A wistful smile slowly conquered her face at the same time as she looked (without really looking) at her food. "You would like that?" she said quietly, repeating his words, shaking her head, still with the same smile. "While you've only known me for hardly an evening?" The question 'Why?' played around in her head, but she couldn't get it out right then. Her eyes finally flicked up to his, not so much in a searching but rather a simply warm manner. A lot of possible additional reactions rolled through her mind. Changing the subject. Saying no. Saying yes... Saying not yet. Saying nothing. She got the feeling that a lot would depend on her answer, and on the way she said it.

Her grip on his hands tightened for a moment, and then she wriggled her right hand alone free to take a drink from her water, and to then gesture at both of their plates. Her left still had a firm grasp on his right though. Her voice was still quiet, and soft. "I am pretty sure it would be considered inappropriate to do anything of the sort over a table with food on it," she offered, looking him in the eyes. She pondered the right way to put what she wanted to say, in order for it to sound the way she wanted to. "I would like to see if you would still like that...," she nodded her head to refer to his earlier words, "After we have finished our meal." Unsure of whether he would take it as a rejection whilst it wasn't, she concernedly bit her lower lip. Then she slowly let go of his other hand, and feeling the need to explain why, she said as her eyes trailed off, "For which we will probably need both of our hands." Her own slowly went for her knife and fork, and she had no clue on how to continue the conversation at all. Remembering that he was more of a quiet person, perhaps he wouldn't know either, and whilst that wasn't necessarily a problem for him, considering his nature, at the moment it might very well be for her. Yet every subject she thought of seemed weird after their last exchange of words, and thinking of the situation as a whole, she couldn't help but smile at her utensils.

[Turin Ringhûn]

Turin cautiously walked to the Tavern. He was anxious about leaving his mother at home, but he felt that with his dad and brother away, he should at least let his family's presence known at the Ball. As he neared the building, he heard music and laughing emminating from the windows and doors. THis perked him up a little, but he was still unsure of himself.

Upon reaching the door, he looked himself over. He was not as tall as his dad, nor as muscular as his brother or dad, but the suit he'd stolen from his father's closet seemed to work ok. It was loose around the waist, and chest, but he looked good. The grey slacks went well with the bluish-grey shirt and blue vest. His leather boots he'd pollished were thankfully free from too much dust. His hair he'd brushed neatly and let it fall to his shoulders.

Taking a couple deep breaths, he entered the Tavern.

[Maldir Alarion]

NPC Malacor Minrimmon


Were it not for his snickering towards the amusing words of those proverbial cow-shed spectators that were rendered so tauntingly by his wily wife, Malacor might have given into temptation, whisked Vandani right off of her feet, and sought out an available room that the tavern had to offer for them to take up the matter in seclusion behind closed doors. Alas, such intimacy would simply have to wait for the smitten twosome, for somehow, someway they had managed to hold their composure and remember exactly where they were and why they had chosen to attend such a festive occasion. Still, it was not often that they got the chance to gussy themselves up and spend a night out on the town together since Danicor came into their lives. And yet, their flirtatious nature proved quite reassuring for Malacor to see that parenthood had not snuffed out the fiery passion that they still held towards one another...Not...one...little...bit.


With a prim and proper saunter did the brawny dairy farmer take hold of the Marketplace Mayor's reaching hand for her to lead him off of the dance floor and find the place that she deemed most suitable for them : A cozy, little, round table for two off and away from the bright lights of the dance floor where the setting was shadowy and dim and not quite as stirring. " Well now, this is a change of pace for us...After you, m'lady...", a courteous Malacor chimed as he pulled out one of the two chairs for Vandani to have a seat in first before he sat himself down in the other one across from hers with their green eyes never seeming to look away from each other even as a tavern server took their orders. " A fully garnished beef brisket and red wine for me please...Be sure to leave the bottle when you return...", Malacor murmured rather inconsiderately to the young lad waiting their table with a hastened wave off from his hand...He was, quite simply, preoccupied with the body language of his wedded wife, and it was proving to be a touch too much for him.


Whether Vandani knew it or not, she had upped the ante in the coquettish couple's antics. Malacor's brow had begun to bead as her forfinger continued to tingle the palm of his hand, and then when he felt her ankle rub up against his leg?...He simply had to offer her something back as an obliged answer and put her own composure to the test. " Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?...", he snickered with a wily grin after he had successfully removed his right shoe and sock with his left foot and began to wiggle his cold, bare toes up the front of her left calf with unflagging resolve.

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

She really did have a delightful way of blushing. Thûllir was glad that his lips were hidden, as he couldn’t quite resist a small grin at the way she suddenly looked all surprised and uncertain as that blush stole across her face before ducking her head. He wasn’t sure whether her response would be one of sparking temper at his audacity, or amusement at his presumption, so when she gave his fingers a squeeze and favored him with a wistful smile, he was quietly thrilled. The warmth of her gaze when she finally flicked her eyes up to meet his reassured him further, and he loosened his grip immediately when she started to free her right hand. She kept surprising him by not completely pushing him away, and instead said things like the words that now fell from her lips that gave him firm ground to stand on. She would like to see that later? If he would still like to? He gave her an almost incredulous look at the question in her statement as he tried to ignore the half-complement in her previous statement, but then his eyes softened at the seeming uncertainty in her words. The briefness of their acquaintance seemed to be giving her concern he mused. While normally he would also question anyone who expressed such interest, and challenge them about not having the lady’s welfare in mind, he somehow knew with a strange certainty that this was different for him. He relaxed a bit more inside even as he saw her discomfort in trying to answer him, and he told himself not to rush things. Wooing her would be worth all the waiting in the world.

He let her free her hands, while his own drifted back down to the table as his gaze was caught on that bitten lip and he listened to her words. Amused understanding lit his eyes as she mentioned the meal and then seemed at a loss for a further topic, sitting and staring down at her utensils with a smile. Thûllir slowly straightened again slightly to pick up his own utensils with a small smile, and let the silence linger only a moment longer before replying with warmth in his voice. “Well M’lady Kaylin, I look forward to finding how much you may like that later, after our fine meal…as I assure you I am unlikely to change my mind.” He paused briefly and raised an eyebrow at her to see if he had her attention, and then gave her a slight wink before continuing with a mostly serious look and smiling eyes. “I may have only met you this evening, but I have been captured and captivated by you: your fire, your words, your manner, and your beauty.” He was being serious, but knew she needed a change of subject, and he needed a distraction from the reoccurring wonder of her actually being interested in his kiss.

Wracking his brain quickly for somewhat safer subjects, he finally settled on one to proffer. Family was safe right? “So…” he questioned in a much lighter tone, “tell me about your family. Any brothers I need to worry about coming after me in Ithilien? What about your Father and Mother? You’ve told me you are from Linhir, but not what they do or how they are.” He set to cutting a bite of meat from his plate before glancing back up at her. “I also realized I never asked who you are serving with besides knowing you are a warrior.” Thûllir tilted his head as he glanced back down to stab the piece of meat properly and then looked back up. “What would you be willing to share Kaylin?” His gaze was curious, with only the slightest hint of heat left as he questioned her.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Kaylin looked up as soon as she heard his first word, relieved and happy that he had chosen not to let the silence linger on. She swallowed, a half-smile on her face as she listened to him. He didn't seem to take what she had said as a rejection of sorts - that was good. She also thought he might have picked up on some of her uncertainty, based on his use of the word 'assure' and saying that he was unlikely to change his mind. Time would tell, she thought, noticing one of his eyebrows go up. At his slight wink, she raised an eyebrow of her own, and then frowned a little. She'd always thought winks were kind of weird. Her face smoothed over again at the words that followed, her eyes slightly bigger than usual at his reply, blinking a few times. Captured and captivated by her? Her gaze trailed off to her plate again, and being very aware of herself at the moment, she straightened her back a little more (though she had pretty much been sitting up straight already), and rolled her shoulders back just a little more.

It was as if she was having a hard time to decide how to start on the meal in front of her, until Thûllir changed the subject to an everyday one; one she was used to. Anyone moving to a new place could expect to be asking questions about their family. This she could deal with much easier. Brothers he needed to worry about coming after him? She couldn't help but let out a chuckle at that question, and she hid her grin behind her right wrist for a moment. "I actually sort of regret to say I have no brothers to come after you, funny as the concept might be." She chuckled again before explaining in more detail. "I'm an only child." She knew that it was a comparatively rare thing, a family with only one child, but she wasn't sure the reason was appropriate to discuss in such a setting, so she decided to leave that out and perhaps it would come up some other time. She began cutting up her food into pieces. "As for my parents, my mother is a shopkeeper. It's sort of a general store, you could say, she mostly sells decorations and kitchen wares - but no food or anything. I remember my parents having more than one 'conversation' about her giving up the shop, but she always resolutely refused, and my father was never successful in his attempts to transform her into a stay-at-home mother." Kaylin grinned at that. "She always threw back that she would be a stay-at-home mother if he'd agreed with her plans years before to look for a building that could house both the shop and the family, which made him mutter and cross his arms without fail. Pretty hilarious sometimes. Not that I'm saying they had a lot of arguments. They are just both stubborn people, which is bound to lead to what I like to call discussions. My mother is very strong-willed, and by no means a don't-get-your-hands-dirty kind of woman. Yet she is very capable of being ladylike, very aware of social etiquette - if it is needed." Kaylin shrugged. "I'm afraid social etiquette isn't one of my strong suits, though I can't say she hasn't tried." She paused to finish the rest of her water. "She's a wonderful person, and I couldn't have asked for a better mom." She blinked and caught herself. "Mother." It was then that she realized she'd spent all this time cutting the food on her plate, and now everything was sliced and diced up as if she'd prepared a plate for a child to eat of. Rolling her eyes, she let out a little sigh. Too late to do anything about that now. It was a habit of hers to first cut everything up and then put the knife down, but she hadn't been planning on entertaining that habit at such a function. Despite that, though, she felt a lot more comfortable again, since speaking of this subject felt like a familiar situation.

She offered him an apologetic smile, though there was no hint of an apology in her tone of voice. "I hope I'm not rambling, but you're the one who asked." One of the pieces disappeared into her mouth, and she took the time to chew and swallow before continuing -- that much at least, her mother had drilled in quite well. "My father is a soldier," she went on afterwards, with a pensive look as she thought of how to put him into words. "He has a lot of layers," she nodded slowly, telling herself that was a good way to begin. "Like I said before - stubborn, because if he gets an idea into his head, it's very difficult to get it back out of there. I only succeeded once or twice. Mother is of course a pro," she grinned. "But other people don't have the remotest chance, in a manner of speaking. He is a typical soldier in the sense that he likes to laugh, play jokes on his comrades, he plays dice and cards with great joy. He taught me the dice and several card games," she remembered with a big smile. "And he hates to lose, but pretends to be cool about it when it happens so his character wouldn't bother other people and ruin the fun for them. On the other hand... he has very quiet days. Talking to him then has little use, since it just makes him look for solitude. I suppose that's the flip side to his otherwise very optimistic and larger-than-life attitude." Kaylin ate some more as she was thinking. "He's great, really - but I'm not sure if I'm making him come across as such. He has this booming laugh that is just hilarious." She gave a flick of her hand, conveying that probably wasn't of much interest to Thûllir. "One of his most annoying traits, for me, is his overprotectiveness." A grin came to her face as something hit her. No man would ever have to worry about a brother, but boy would they have to worry about her father... "He is the one who insisted I learned hand-to-hand-combat from a very young age. I got about some 12 years of training in on the subject before he was content and I could move on to swordplay, so if you still want to risk that mock fight, you are warned! I think he worried because I was a girl, and he had encountered many different kinds of people in his life. In a way, his protectiveness is a real pain, but then again I have taken away a lot of skills from it, which have come in handy more than once - even in everyday life. Two sides to a coin, I suppose."

Deciding that she had blabbed on enough on her own about this subject, she moved on to his next question after enjoying a few more bites. "I never offered my services to an organisation in Linhir; that only started after I came here. In Linhir, all I did from time to time was sign up to accompany trade journeys for example. Not that those trips were never interesting, but it didn't seem like the life for me. I enlisted in the Gondorian Army basically on my second day here, intending to join the company of Minas Tirith," she explained. "Recruit Kaylin," she said, opening up one of her hands in front of her like she was saying the title of the latest play by a famous company. "I think it has a nice ring to it. I'm in training here now with Pele. I mean, Drill Sergeant Alarion. I'm rather enjoying it; she's very different from the instructors I've had over the years, which means she will have new insights to offer me."

Her eyes judged both of their plates, Thûllir's displaying much more of the plate than of food compared to her own. She'd been talking too much, and hadn't had much time to actually eat. "How about you talk now, and I listen and eat for a while? Even though you're a quiet type, you seem to be doing pretty well talking to me, if I shut up long enough to let you." A mischievous grin found its way to her lips and her eyes as she looked at him, and pointedly stabbed at a piece of food with her fork.

[Maldir Alarion]

Maldir Alarion


" Verily my dear, yet let us not dawdle lingering about out here in the cold, night air like some pair of tardy Marketplace window-shoppers after hours, there's plenty of merriment awaiting us inside as well. ", Maldir replied back to Pele with a tug on her cloak in a somewhat hastened tone of voice due to the icy breeze that was turning the cheeks upon his fair face a hue of rosy red. The temperate atmosphere that lied on the other side of the Tavern's front doors proved quite a warm welcome to the chilled-to-the-bones Maldir, who could not help but shiver away the bitter cold one last time before he removed his thin, black surcoat and turned towards Pele. " Brrr! I should have worn my thick, fleece cloak instead of this flimsy surcoat! Serves me right for choosing to be more stylish than practical, I suppose...", his teeth chattered a bit when he spoke back to Pele, who had enough sense about her to dress more accordingly with a proper overcoat for the elements outside and a befitting, deep blue dress for the festivities inside.


" You look marvelous Pele...Ehm...What's that, you say?...Eat, mingle, and dance all at once?...Good gracious me Pele, there's time enough for us to do all of those things seperately, haha!...I think I had better warm my bones with a nice, hot meal first though, if you do not mind...I really haven't eaten a thing since nuncheon, come to think of it...", Maldir snickered at first in response to his stunning spouse's excited proposals, then put his hand over his grumbling belly and spoke a bit more seriously with a soulful look of hunger painted upon his face...His charcoal-colored suit did look rather nice upon him though.

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

It seemed that Thûllir had chosen wisely, for Kaylin quickly seemed to relax at his rather mundane questions, and her low chuckle produced a matching grin on his face as amusement touched with relief filled his eyes. No brothers…good, good. Thûllir was glad she found the concept amusing, and tucked away the comment about being an only child for later. For now he would listen.

Barely conscious of the food on his own plate other than that it tasted delicious and needed an occasional glance to make sure he was managing to get the items onto his fork, Thûllir’s attention was wrapped up in watching the animation on Kaylin’s features and trying to absorb all the details. When she spoke of her parents and their relationship, he felt a certain bemusement and slight sympathy for her father. She gets more from her mother than she probably realizes. Realizing where his thoughts were headed, he reined them in so as not to get too far ahead of himself. Kaylin’s small sigh as she gazed down at her plate brought his own attention to it, and he bit back a smile at her seeming frustration. Etiquette doesn’t matter that much…cute. He cleared his throat slightly in order to help smooth his features and manage a straight face.

Tuning back in, he listened to her describe her father and their relationship over the years. Thûllir’s lips curved in approval of her words, even as he recognized the important challenge that it would be for him to gain this intimidating sounding man’s approval. He taught her well and took care of her, warred with Oh my, twelve years of hand to hand combat. Giving her a slight nod of respect and acknowledgement as he heard of her training both at her father’s hand and here in Minas Tirith, he smiled when she spoke with modest pride in her voice at the title she bore. Taking a sip of his juice as she wound down, he had to laugh along with her when she made an obvious glancing comparison of their plates and then urged him to speak. “… Even though you're a quiet type, you seem to be doing pretty well talking to me, if I shut up long enough to let you."

It was true that he was doing a lot more talking with her than he normally managed with anyone. He chuckled lightly, and took a moment before responding. “Since you put it that way…and so you will eat, I guess I can talk.” He loved the mischievous grin that had found its way onto her face. “Although I am just as happy listening to you share. Your parents sound wonderful. A shopkeeper and a soldier.” Thûllir gave a nod to emphasize his words, and then leaned back a little as he raised his glass to take a sip. Tilting his glass toward her in half-salute, he continued. “You say they are both stubborn. Well, I will keep that in mind for meeting your father so that I am sure to give him an honest and good first impression. Wouldn’t want him thinking ill of me and then hanging onto that idea.” His eyes twinkled at her a little bit to match the wry twist to his lips as he poked fun at himself.

Setting the glass back down, Thûllir collected another bite to finish off his plateful, and then pushed it to the side so that he could cross his arms in front of him and lean a bit on the table. He was ignoring some degree of etiquette, but he wasn’t concerned about that at the moment. Toying with his glass a moment, his eyes rested briefly on it before lifting to give her another half-smile. “Your description of your mother actually reminds me of mine a little. Not in being a shopkeeper, but the description of a woman who knows her own mind, and who can be both a hard worker and a lady. Not unlike her daughter…” His eyes smiled at her, but contained a fleeting wistfulness. “I too am an only child. Not that my parents did not want more children, but our living conditions were difficult in the refuges. I think she lost one or two before I came along, and one after, but still she refused to leave. Father was worried for her, but she loved Ithilien, and wanted to stay as long as possible. It was she who taught me what herb-lore I know, and she would doctor any who fell ill or came back wounded. There were enough of those…” His eyes darkened with a remembered grief and hint of the bitterness that fueled his fighting as they gained a far-off look for a moment. When his eyes found hers again, they were filled with shadowed sorrow for a few heartbeats before he remembered himself and shook it off slowly with a twitch of his shoulders as he glanced away again.

Taking a deep breath, he lightened the tone. “When Karis came to Gondor it helped. She became a sister to me and a daughter to my mother. She joined us for a little while after she got her initial training, but wanted to go back for her studies and to work with the Tower Guard and advance her skills in different ways. You just don’t turn down those opportunities. It still took a few years, but between the both of us and then Father’s getting wounded, we finally convinced her it was better in the safety and comfort of the city.” He gave a little shrug. “They came here to join my cousin, and I stayed to fight.” He brushed over quite a bit with that statement, but it could wait for other times. Tilting his head to give her a playfully considering look, his demeanor changed as if letting those memories roll off his shoulders, and he continued. “Speaking of fighting, twelve years of hand to hand combat training is quite impressive. You have already said you could teach me moves, but now I really do look forward to learning something new. I am very good with the bow and decent with blade and hand, but not on par with twelve years of specific training. I am well warned, but willing to risk my reputation to learn from you.” A grin slid across his features, brightening his otherwise darkly bearded face with a flashing smile. “In return, I would be delighted to help you improve your archery or other craft.” He would enjoy that...Jerking his thoughts away from what helping with archery stances might be like, he glanced at her now almost clean plate and then up at the room that they had been ignoring before returning to her face. “Meanwhile, M’lady Maethŷr Kaylin, shall we attempt to be sociable? I am perfectly happy to stay here, but there are several it may be courteous to greet, such as Sergeant Alarion as you mentioned,” He nodded in the direction of the new arrival, “Or your friends, or perhaps a newcomer such as that young man from the smith’s shop that just came in?” He realized he was completely monopolizing her attention, and while that was what he wanted to do, he knew that she might like to greet friends and acquaintances sometime during the evening. Since he fully intended to claim another dance before the night was over, he would rather get the socializing done with sooner rather than later. Tilting his head in question, he waited for her response.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Glad to see he willingly took over the role as leading conversationalist, Kaylin set to eating the rest of her dish as she listened. A nod came from her when he commented her parents sounded wonderful. They were. When Thûllir continued, she looked up from her plate. He seems pretty sure that he'll be meeting them, she thought to herself, but decided to let it go. If Thûllir would end up meeting her parents some day, that would be something she was pretty sure she'd enjoy to see. A smirk conquered her face as she reflected on that - unless she was mistaken, her father would embarrass the man to no end. It was in his nature to embarrass even every acquaintances of hers. She could only imagine...

Meanwhile, he had finished his meal altogether. A look of contentment settled in her eyes when she saw he wasn't perfectly adhering to etiquette either as he pushed it out of the way to lean on the table. It made her feel better about her own mistakes to see that he made some of his own - whether they came to be accidentally or purposefully didn't really matter. She listened as he told her he was an only child as well, and was surprised to find him sharing about the children his mother lost during pregnancy. Not only was it something very private about his family, but it was something his family and her own had in common. She hadn't wanted to discuss it, but there he was, talking about it himself. She listened as he told her about the refuges, his father's worries and his mother's love for Ithilien. She listened as he told of the wounded his mother would care for, and realized that the man in front of her must have seen a lot of things. The far-away look he got was all too easily recognisable; she had seen it in her father's eyes more than once on his quiet days. She received the look in calm silence, not expanding on the subject, knowing from experience that focussing on such memories would only make it worse. She wanted to reach out to him, but chose not to. When he continued, his tone was lighter, and he seemed to have decided not to go down the road of sorrow. Kaylin remained quiet, and intentionally didn't give him a sympathetic look, but rather the calm look of a listener.

He spoke about Karis then, and that his parents had moved to the City after his father had gotten wounded. That sounded sad. They came here and he stayed to fight. That sounded sad too, despite his tone, and it made her slant her head as she listened though she tried not to look too searchingly because she didn't want him to feel as if she wanted him to expand on it further. If he wanted to, he could; if he didn't want to, he shouldn't - Kaylin did no want to influence him concerning the matter in any way. He tilted his head, much like she had tilted hers, but the reason for it turned out to be quite different. He was being light-hearted now, which brought a subdued but genuine smile to her face. Putting down her utensils, having finished her own meal now save for some stray pieces here and there, she put her elbows on the edge of the table and clasped her hands together under her chin, nodding as he commented on her training. He suggested that they could learn from one another, perhaps, and specifically mentioned he could help her work on her skills with bow and arrow. "What a coincidence," she replied thoughtfully, "That my weakness should be your strength. I have very little experience with archery." She unclasped her hands and picked up the final pieces with her fork, thus emptying the plate completely. She held up her knife vertically with her left hand, as if it were a bow, and 'strung' her fork onto it. "I definitely need practice in that area." Then she ate the last bit of the food off the fork, and put the utensils down. A bit of nerves found their way to her stomach as she considered there was no meal to save her from what he had said he would like to do earlier, but as he suggested they might mingle a little, said nerves settled gratefully, and as a contrast to before, Kaylin almost jumped at the opportunity.

"Yes - yes, we should definitely do that," she answered with a serious nod, looking around hastily. By all means, she should greet Pele and her husband Maldir, and Arinelle and Elesil and Elenmire... And was that Mourgan she saw over there? She got a bit distracted by Thûllir's mention of the 'young man from the smith's shop'. She looked over to see who he was referring to, and spotted a young man by the entrance door. “You have to paraphrase the man?” she asked him. “That will hardly do... If you’ve seen each other around the blacksmith’s a couple of times, you should probably be on a first name basis. It’s just common sense, too – if you know each other a bit better you could get past the silly weather chit chat when you have to go to the shop, and who knows… maybe even make a friend. It’ll make all of your exchanges much more pleasant.” It pleased her that she was the one giving him a little lecture for once. She gave the table a last look and signalled to one of the tavern’s staff that they could clear it if they wanted to. Then she rose from her seat, smoothing her dress over a bit as she did so, even though it wasn’t really necessary. They could talk to this man and then maybe take him over to where a few of her Barracks roommates were standing, talking to one another, she thought. That way a lot of people would get to meet in a relatively short time span. First things first though; the blacksmith worker (as she mentally referred to the young man who’s just entered due to lack of a name) was still by the entrance, having just arrived. They should get to him before he could get lost in all of the people. She gave Thûllir a look that asked and at the same time challenged him to keep up, and after a moment set off towards the man in question (Turin). It was a good thing he hadn’t entered with a bunch of others, she thought to herself, or she’d never known who to approach without Thûllir’s help, and she liked being able to do things on her own. When she reached the stranger (Turin), she dipped her head in greeting after making eye contact. “Good evening,” she started, just coming straight to the point. “This man here,” she gestured towards Thûllir, “Has seen you around the blacksmith’s, but it appears as though he doesn’t know your name.” Kaylin smiled, not at all ashamed about just beginning the conversation rather out of the blue. “And I thought we should rectify that. Besides, I’m relatively new to the city, and getting to know more people is always a good thing in a situation such as mine.” She suddenly wondered whether she should introduce Thûllir now, or whether that wasn’t the case at all, especially after the little lecture she had gotten from him earlier, but she mentally waved her worries away and went with her instincts. Everybody could simply just introduce themselves. “For one - my name is Kaylin; and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” This would give the other two plenty of opportunity to introduce themselves to one another.

[Elesil Narsil]

"Yes Arinelle. Every snowflake has the same base, but every one turns out different as it floats through the atmosphere. I have quite a few drawings back at the barracks if you ever want to see them sometime. While I was taking care of the wolves in Lossarnarch, I studied the shapes during the long, snowy winters." Elesil looked around once more, taking note of Captain Faramir's whereabouts.

"Where is Rivendell?" Arinelle asked as Elesil came back to the conversation at hand. Elesil smiled and replied, "It is far north and east of here. Across the Plains of Rohan and through the Mines of Moria. It is beautiful and home to Lord Elrond's Elves. The Shards of Narsil, Isildur's sword, also lie there, waiting for the heir to the throne to step forward. They are still very sharp to the touch. Lord Elrond maintains an extensive library. It is wonderful if you want to learn more about anything you could want to know."

Just then Elesil spied Captain Faramir on the move, and having a small crush on him, she watched with intensity. "Oh, you haven't heard of Gandalf. He is a troublesome wizard, but don't get me wrong. He is very wise and learned. His fireworks are a work of art. I heard that he lead a troop of Dwarves and a Hobbit to take back the Lonely Mountain some years back. If you hang around the great archives of Minas Tirith, you might see him come and go. I know that Captain Faramir is one of his pupils. He is much more learned than you think, whereas his brother, Captain Boromir is all brawn."

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

Her response to his suggestion of training together was equally light-hearted, if slightly thoughtful, and Thûllir smiled to see her pantomime with the utensils. Yet her eager response to his suggestion of going to mingle with others was a slight surprise. He raised an eyebrow at her as she quickly looked around to identify her friends and acquaintances. Perhaps she is also trying to distract herself. Not quite sure what to think of that, he merely looked at her with amused protest when she berated him for not knowing the name of the smith’s apprentice. He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had heard Aerdin say his name…but Kaylin was busy signaling for the staff waiter, and Thûllir’s lips twitched in amusement at the words she had used. She gave him a look, and then was suddenly up and moving! Recognizing the challenging question in her gaze for what it was, he gave a slight bemused shake of his head and twisted to watch her a moment as he admired the sight of her brisk walk.

Giving a wave of thanks to the waiter, Thûllir unfolded himself from the chair in a unhurried manner, but then stretched his long legs a little so that he caught up to her smoothly about two thirds of the way across the room. Staying a step behind her, he gave a smiling shrug towards the young apprentice when she accosted him in her beautifully direct manner. Stepping around her skirts to come up on her right side as she gestured at him during her greeting, Thûllir gave an apologetic nod in acknowledgement of the slight rebuke. He had finally remembered a name from his last visit to the Smithy, and hoped he was correct. Placing his left hand lightly at Kaylin’s back in an unconsciously possessive manner, he offered the other to the young man to shake. “It is good to officially meet you young sir…is it Turin?” He offered with a questioning glance. “As you likely already know, I am Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien. You and Master Smith Aerdin produce good work for us whenever we come to you for business. Have you been to one of the Midwinter Balls before? I admit this is my first time.” His voice trailed off with a smile as he waited for the young smith’s response.

[Turin Ringhûn]

Turin was looking about the room he noticed movement in his peripherals. It seemed he’d attracted some attention from a couple of people at a table. His first instinct was to run, but, he found it within himself to stay. He was after all representing the Nûril family, and he didn’t want them to appear to be cowards.

After he gathered his breath once more with all of the people in the Tavern, he turned back to see a woman standing before him, plus the man he’d seen previously at the table. His heart raced, but calmed a little when the woman spoke.

“Kaylin, pleased to meet you. I am sorry to say, I can’t recall meeting you Thûllir … wait, I think I do. Weren’t you … no, that was someone else. Sorry. Ah, I know. You brought some things in for repairs the other day. Aerdin was telling me yesterday that we should have most if not all of the repairs done over the next couple days, preferably all and sooner.

“And yes name is Turin. You may know my father or maybe even my brother. Turo is my father, he is a soldier here in the city. And my brother Huro is a Ranger with Faramir in Ithilien.” He suddenly felt overwhelmed and began speaking faster and faster. Of his mother who always seems to be sick and how his father wouldn’t let him join the army because someone needed to stay at home and watch over his mother. And how he missed the Brown Lands where he was born and for some strange reason how he missed the family business of being a trading post. He hated the trading business.

Turin noticed Thûllir and Kaylin staring at him, so he took a breath and apologized. “I’m sorry. I don’t get out much, and there isn’t much to talk to my mother about. Not saying I don’t like talking to her … Oh shut up Turin.” Mumbling the last part. “I should probably go. I don’t know why I talked myself into coming here in the first place. With my dad busy, and my brother gone …” he sighed.

Turin looked down at his shoes and lightly shook his head. “Someday I am going to be a soldier.” He thought to himself. “I am going to be a great soldier. And my name will be known and … and … and feared.”

He looked up at the two who invited him over and tried to smile. “So. What is the purpose of this … whatever this is? Wait, you called it a Ball.”

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

The young man quickly confirmed that his name was Turin, despite not really recognizing Thûllir initially. Thûllir nodded in thanks at the message he relayed concerning equipment repairs. Those would be greatly appreciated by the Rangers, and the sooner he could collect them the better, even though he wasn't in quite as big a hurry to return to the woods as he had been before the Ball. Thûllir's expression lit up at the mention of Huro, but then settled into compassionate bemusement as the younger man poured out his troubles.

Stepping forward a little, Thûllir gave Turin a firm clap on the shoulder and then let his hand rest there as he continued. "Nay Turin, don't go. You said you are interested in the army...I am sure you will make a great soldier one day. I do not doubt it! I actually know your brother Huro, as I serve with him in Ithilien. I only now put the connection together. He has spoken of you frequently. If you are anything like him you will do great credit to the name Nuril, and serve with distinction as he has." Thûllir offered a smile and a look of sincerity, even as he strung more words together than he normally did. For some reason this young man's uncertainty touched him. "Huro did tell me that if I ever ran into his brother that I should tell you he is doing well and learning a lot. He has been serving under Captain Faramir, and participated in the most recent large expedition that the Captain undertook." He looked back at Kaylin in order to include her in the conversation.

"As for this function, I suppose the purpose of a Ball is to socialize. To have fun, meet new people, eat some excellent food, and perhaps dance. Or at least so I hear." Thûllir laughed, and gave Turin's shoulder a friendly pat before removing his hand. "I can recommend both the food and the dancing, and the midwinter wassail is particularly good. Stay and join us for the evening."

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

She shifted a little when she felt Thûllir's hand on her back, and approved as well as disapproved of it at the same time. The Ranger dealt with her dive into the conversation pretty well, though - better than she would have thought, which made her smile to herself.

Nodding again when the man she now knew to be Turin said he was pleased to meet her, she listened to the other things he had to say. After a sentence or two, her eyes widened a little in surprise of the number and the nature of the things Turin was spilling out to them, but it didn't take long for her eyes to soften to an understanding look. The firm clap Thûllir gave Turin's shoulder made her smile again. Good thing the young man they'd just started to converse with was steady on his feet! Apparently, the Ranger was familiar with Turin's brother Huro, another Ranger who had also fought at Cair Andros. "Looks like I fought alongside your brother without knowing it," Kaylin told Turin. "I'm sure he was just as glad as I was that he made it out of there alive." She blinked at her words, aware that they may have sounded a bit too dark if one of the two were listening for it. "It was definitely an adventure," she added in a lighter tone of voice. "But I have yet to meet him. At least, if I do happen to one day, I can tell him I'm acquainted with his brother," she smiled.

After Thûllir explained what social functions like the Midwinter Ball were about, Kaylin expressed her agreement with a nod. "Yes, do join us," she offered in addition to Thûllir's suggestion. "And please don't feel bad about telling us about yourself, albeit a bit randomly." Her voice took on a trusting tone as she continued. "I can already tell you now that at these sort of affairs there is usually a whole lot of empty chit-chat, which can get very boring very quickly. Anyone who can break free of such constraints is a breath of fresh air at events like this." Kaylin gently nudged Thûllir with her right elbow to indicate he was also an exception to the boring norm, and then spoke up again in a normal tone of voice. "Turin, would you be open to meeting some of my roommates at the barracks? I know they're around, but I have yet to greet them. Which is truly very remiss of me." She glanced at Thûllir at this point, gauging his reaction to her suggestion, and then looked back to Turin. "Getting to know multiple people at once might break the proverbial ice a bit easier for you?"

[Windowcel Alarion]

NPC Mellya
Mellya returned the smile, took the Captain’s arm, and let him lead her out to the dance floor. It had been a long time – longer than she cared to count – since she had been asked to dance, and she hoped that some instinct would kick in once they were on the floor. When his hand went to her back, she put her own on his shoulder, took his hand, and they were off; fortunately, it was a rather stately dance and the Captain was an excellent partner. Mellya was always light on her feet and adapted gracefully to the rhythm of the dance. In a few moments she was quite comfortable enough to carry on the conversation he began.

“No excuse is necessary, sir,” she answered him. “I have not been in the city long enough to lose my own curiosity. I moved to Minas Tirith about a year ago,” she explained. Should she draw his attention to the fact that she had come to join the Army? She still had not decided what she would say if she saw Sergeant Pele again. “I grew up in Langstrand in the care of my uncle, then spent a few years at Pinneth Gelin before coming here. I intended to join the Rangers –in fact, I began my training - but some unexpected people turned up a few months ago...” Her words trailed off when she realized that for all his polite curiosity, Faramir probably did not care to hear the story of her life. She stopped speaking and gave her attention to the dance as her partner spun her; it was a glorious feeling to have her hair down and bouncing around her shoulders, and the flowing motion of the gown instead of breeches.

She laughed lightly with joy as she returned to his arms, but the spin had shown her that the prickling feeling at the back of her neck was not simply nerves – there were, indeed, people watching them. Captain Faramir mentioned the attention before she had decided how to do so. “...I might have brought you into the conversations of the city folk now…”“You might, my lord,” she answered. “But in my normal garb none of them would recognize me. I fear you did not pick a popular partner… and there is no one to be jealous.” She had little concern for the opinions of the rest of the city, as she usually dedicated her time to study and training, and even less for her lack of a beau. Men were interesting to talk to – and lovely to dance with – but she wanted nothing beyond friendship. She could very well take care of herself.

“If we have a few more moments in this dance,” she said, being unfamiliar with the music, “I would ask a question or two, myself.” She looked up at him, and decided that he might value frankness; he put on none of the airs that another man in his position might, although she had to remember that he was the son of the Steward. “I hear much of you, and yet know very little. I suppose that is why people watch you,” she mused. “If you will allow a daring question… if you were not yourself – if you were a ‘normal person,’ as you call us – what would you wish to do?” Her dark eyes met his and she tipped her head to the side with a smile, trying to make it clear that her question could be taken in jest if he wished.

[Turin Ringhûn]

Turin smiled. He was being invited to meet people. Other soldiers. “Cool. Sure, I’ll come.” He said. He wasn’t sure how to respond to the fact that Thûllir knew his brother, and that Kaylin possibly did. It did disturb him about a mission she spoke of, but Huro was tough. He was definitely the more physical of the two.

As he followed the two, he spoke up again. “Sorry about a few moments ago. I … don’t talk to many people, and I don’t get out much. But I am older than I act. I could be in the army if I wanted … well if my dad let me. But I am glad I can be of service to the army helping the smith. It is interesting work. For instance, did you know how many different types of swords there are? And that different styles are used in different ways. Like the … there I go running my mouth again.” He was then silent until they arrived at the group of friends.

But being silent was far from what his mind was. “There are a heap of people here. And hardly anyone is paying much attention to exits. Well, from what I can tell. There are other soldiers here, so they at least have an eye on it. And I can hear … I can’t tell how many different dialects. That is one thing I like about the trading business. Because of it, my dad has taught me so many languages. I wonder if any of these friends will know of my dad and brother. I am glad Huro is ok. I hope what he learns can be of use there in the brown lands. It is so quiet there. Except when people are around. I like quiet. It is noisy in here. So many people. Man, he is ugly. But she’s pretty. Though, not as pretty a Kaylin. Now don’t be thinking that Turin, she can tear you to pieces probably faster than you can apologize.”

He looked down at his feet trying to hide the redness appearing in his cheeks. Taking a breath and calming down, he looked back up. Straightening his face, he waited to be introduced to the friends he was being brought to.

[Veowyn Girarion Alarion]

Amilida Gittens

Ami had excused herself for the evening, hiding in her bedroom. She had plans tonight, none of which included watching her mother try to keep her nephew out of everything. She sent her maid home early, then went to her closet. She pulled a few things out from a secret spot. A deep purple gown of satin and velvet, and a blonde colored wig. She'd found both items in old trunks belonging to her older sisters, and thought they were perfect for a night out. She hated having to sneak, but her mother had said "young ladies who are betrothed, but not yet wed should not go to tavern balls."

Ami however knew she was missing out on the fun, so she disguised herself and snuck out to join in. She also wanted to see how her Eamon acted without her. When she entered the tavern she took a deep breath taking it all in. As some one took the teenager's cloak, she made a mental note. "Vandani and Malacor are at that table. They are all gushy, and won't notice me. Zara and Jaren are there, I doubt they will notice either, if I go that way."

So she made her way to get something to drink, where she noticed two young men about her age. "Hello." She smiled at Mourgan and Andarion

Vandani Minrimmon

She never had a chance to respond to his teasing. Shivers burned their way up her leg, then her spine. "Cory" She managed t whisper. She took a deep breath, trying to gain control of this game they were playing.The plate coming down in front of her face gave her an idea. A smirk spread across her face.

She slowly drew her hand back from his, and took up her eating utensils. And in slow motion she took a bite. She savored it, with her eyes closed. When she opened them, she blinked looked at her husband through her long lashes. She just couldn't be the one to give in completely and lose this game. She wanted to find his tipping point.

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

He had remembered Kaylin’s mention of excursions to Ithilien, but until she spoke again he hadn’t known for sure that she had been in on the most recent campaign. A slight chill slid down Thûllir’s spine as he saw the change in her expression and thought of those who had not returned from that battle. When she changed topics, he tucked the memory away for another day, and tried to relax again.

Thûllir smiled down at Kaylin as she added to his comments about socializing, and raised his eyebrows at the gentle jab she gave his belly. It took a second, but then he realized she had actually been trying to reassure him and in the process give him a sideways complement. Only she could manage to do that by hitting a fellow in the stomach. He mused, as he gave his belly a brief and ruefully amused rub. At least she was comfortable enough to tease him a little.
Realizing that if introductions were going to be made they would soon be moving, Thûllir removed his hand from her back, caught the same elbow that had tapped his stomach, and sliding his right hand down to find her fingers, gently lifted them to tuck her hand into the crook of his left arm. She kept dashing off and leaving him to trail behind, and this would keep her close for now while still giving her the control of being able to direct, follow, or drop the connection altogether. It was also a bit more formal and somewhat less personal than his favored method of a hand to her back, and he had a niggling suspicion that she wanted a little distance when meeting her friends. He hoped she wouldn’t mind his presumption, but he suddenly liked the idea of escorting her much more than chasing after or trying to lead.

At Turin’s eager affirmative reply, Thûllir nodded once in resigned anticipation of the larger crowd, and then looked back to meet Kaylin’s gaze. He did want to meet them, and it would please her. “Lead on M’lady Kaylin.” His words were simple, but his heart was full. He had caught a glimpse of something in the young man’s gaze, and his own smile held a ting of wry pride as he realized that he wasn’t the only one who thought this woman stunning. Most beautiful in my opinion, was his quiet thought as he waited her movement.

Once they were actually moving towards the group of ladies and wolf that Thûllir had noticed her glancing at before, he tuned back in to Turin’s words that came out in a burst and then trailed off into silence again. Throwing a quick look back over his shoulder at the man, he replied honestly. “No need to apologize Turin. Talking can be a tricky thing…sounds like you know your swords better than I do.” He too fell silent again as they approached the small gathering.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

She’d hardly finished her question when Thûllir took his hand from her back and casually placed her right hand on his left arm. Or seemingly casually, she thought. Either way, it was a more common way to walk together, and less possessive – but only because walking like this would require the both of them to agree on it. Kaylin left her hand where he had put it, silently accepting his new chosen way of moving around. And finding she took a certain amount of pleasure from it. A slight smile touched only her eyes when she thought about how she’d been rushing ahead of him until now – though it had’t felt like rushing to her, it might have to him.

Turin replied positively to her suggestion, and the simple way he replied made her grin a little. ‘Cool’ was a funny word. Thûllir nodded and also agreed, but she thought his feeling about it looked to be of a more layered nature than Turin’s, judging by his eyes. She smiled at the two and with a small nod she set off into Arinelle and Elesil’s direction. Thûllir had already spotted them it seemed, since he needed little direction from her. As they made their way over to the two women and Kaylin was happy with all of the distraction this provided her compared to before, Turin once again spoke up to apologise for any social awkwardness he might have. Kaylin shook her head, thinking it didn’t matter to her whether he was good at this or not. When he started talking about different swords and different styles, her eyes lit up in a certain way. Unfortunately, Turin stopped himself rather quickly, but Kaylin hardly noticed as her mind had been set on a path already. She was vaguely aware that Thûllir commented Turin knew his swords better then he did; and then her thoughts all started to come out excitedly. “Oh yes! The broadsword, the falchion sword, the scimitar, the hand-and-a-hand sword – there are so many, really, it can be quite hard to make a choice as to what weapon you would make your own…” Her voice trailed off when she noticed a strange smile on Thûllir’s face. Her eyes flicked to Turin and she noticed him looking down, as if embarrassed. Was she missing something here? With a mental shrug, she thought maybe it was one of those things between men.

The three slowed to a halt once they’d reached their destination. “Ladies!” Kaylin exclaimed with a grin to both Elesil and Arinelle. She unhooked her hand from Thûllir’s arm to gesture to everyone as she made her introductions. “I would like you to meet two faces which, at least to me, were unfamiliar before this evening. This is Turin, who on occasion gives a helping hand to the marketplace’s blacksmith, and this is Thûllir, a Ranger from Ithilien who happens to be in the city for..” She realized she had no idea for how long or for what exactly. “A time. Gentlemen, these are two - well actually three - of my lovely roommates at the Barracks, Arinelle and Elesil; the beautiful wolf is called Elenmire, and is not only Elesil’s friend but also her battle partner.” Satisfied that she had done a decent job with the introductions, she gave her roommates as well as Turin and Thûllir a smile that asked to please take it from here.

[Turin Ringhûn]

The first thing that caught Turin’s eye was the wolf. Immediately, his mind went back to his dad telling him about his great great grandfather who took care of wolves. His name was Nuran. They lived in Eriador somewhere, for Turin was never told exactly. With that thought, he wondered if his great uncle Suro knew where they lived.

To not be rude, he said hello and shook hands, but his attention stayed in the wolf. Kneeling, he held out his hand so he could catch his scent. Seeing no negative response, he began to pet him and scratched behind his ears. “Now that’s a good boy. Oh, you like that?” He said. He looked up at Elesil, “He’s a great wolf. Not that I’ve seen many. To be honest, he’s only the fourth I’ve seen. Two previous, I won’t speak of, but the third, he was not long for this world. He’d been hurt so bad from I don’t know what. I know my great great granddad took care of wolves somewhere in up north, Eriador I’ve heard. I’ve always wanted a wolf. Particularly the rare white wolf. And I know just what I’d name him to. Carch.” He then turned his attention back to the black beast before him. Years prior to his family moving to Minas Tirith he and his brother had a dog. He loved that thing, but one day a trader’s horse kicked and killed it.

After a few more minutes of playing with Elinmire, Turin stood and sighed. “I’m sorry for ignoring you all. I can get distracted at times. It has been said, people wonder how it is that my brother and I are related with how different we are. Huro is my brother if anyone knows him. He’s a Ranger in Ithilien. My dad is a soldier here in the city. Turo is his name. I just help the blacksmith once and a while.”

Turin then realized how thirsty he was. So he ordered himself a mild ale. As he waited for it to come, he caught his eyes darting around at the women around him. “Don’t you dare go there.” He thought to himself. “They may look all lovely now, but remember what your dad said. ‘Sometimes the prettier the lady, the more lethal she is.’ And remember, Kaylin said they are her roommates in the army barracks.”

When his ale arrived, he sipped it and lightly smiled. His enthusiasm for the ball was beginning to fade. Taking a nearby seat, he became lost within his thoughts. They were of his dad and brother. And on his dream of becoming a great soldier one day.

[Elesil Narsil]

"Oi, Hi Kaylin and pleased to meet you Turin and Thûllir. It is always nice to see your friends outside of your official duties. I do hope that you all are enjoying yourselves here at the Ball. Arinelle and I sure am, even though I am just a spectator to the dancing and we are scouting out handsome males out on the dance floor. Oh, take a look at the cookie table, they are all delicious."

When Elesil saw Turin start scratching Elen behind his ear, she smiled. "Thank you for the complement on Elen. His mother was a snow white wolf. Her name was Lossemire. I don't really know how he came out to be an almost solid black wolf, mainly because his father was a red color. You will have a friend for life now since you are scratching his favorite spot. He is being trained to work with me in the army. His grandmother was the first wolf I had trained in that compacity. Her name was Isilmire."

[Hallas C. Pehwarin]

It had been a while for the young northern dúnedain to attend one of the social gatherings of Minas Tirith , but Hallas decide to get out and enjoy life beyond his duties as soldier. Now he morphed back into the persona of a dignified nobleman of ancient house whose proud linage had served the line of Elendil until its disappearance and loss after the last King of Gondor Eärnur , son of Eärnil II . From that time on they'd served the House of Húrin whose line had served as Stewards to the King and later became the de-facto rulers of the South Kingdom ruling for the last 1,000 years.

For the occasion the young NCO and noble dressed in fine clothing being a warm red long-sleeved tunic edged in silver on the collar and cuffs, a pair of suede sky-grey leather leggings, and tall knee soft brown leather boots whose fronts had the image of the White Tree gilded again in silver. Over the simple shirt rested sleeve-less sky-grey leather vest trimmed in white vair. Upon its front rested the full sigil of his family; being the White Tree surrounded by a pair of opened sea-birds wings gilded all in silver. Above Tree rested two six pointed and rayed silver stars. The final pieces of the outfit were black belt edged in silver that rested about his narrow waist and, a pair of soft sky-grey two-piece vambraces; an inner patterned guard and outer plate of boiled leather. Final a woolen cloak that had been bleached until it was white as snow that had been falling outside and his family signet ring; circular band of mithril upon either side tooled were two tiny images of the White Tree in solid gold tracery, in-between them rested a green emerald for his birth month of August. Now it rested on his left index finger. As he made his way down the wooden paneled entrance Edlyn showed up deciding to follow her master! Her footfalls were soft as she slinked her way toward the entrance slipping past as stealthy as the aged wolf could do so. Hallas had opened the door and had busied himself with his new cloak so she padded outside into the snow.

It was invigorating but very cold to her body at the same time. The aged wolf yelped merrily as she rolled around in the snow it clinging to her furry frame!


Hallas then departed his families summer small manor house nestled within the 6th circle of the City being located on the left hand side in that had the Houses of Healing and the Stables of the Steward's Errand Riders. As he stood upon the main entrance to his home the young 22-year old nobleman and soldier pulled on a pair of fur lined grey gloves.

Then raising head upward did he notice his families’ wolf outside! His left hand did Hallas reach up to pull up the white wool hood of his bleached cloak the nobleman then did he speak, “ El what are you doing out here hmm?” “Want to join me for a party tonight?” Edlyn then rose and made her way to her masters side brushing her head against his pant leg indicated a ‘yes’ So together did the Regent of the Pehwarin family and their set off at slow yet dignified gait walked down the snow covered streets to the 2nd circle. It was dreadfully cold but soon enough did Hallas found himself outside of the Tavern of the Seven Stars . As his keen and bright blue eyes gazed at the building did the NCO of the Gondor's Army absent mildly touch a hand to the gilded steel dagger that rested inside a plain black leather scabbard attacked to his black belt edged in silver about the waist of his vest.

Hallas then stomp his boots on the entrance mat to clean off some of the snow. The friendly female wolf did the same briskly shaking her whole fur body and legs snow flying everywhere to splatter the front of the Tavern. Then opening the door did the young northern dúnedain and his pet step inside. The warmth washed over the tall 6 foot and 1 inch direct descendant of the isle of the star as he raised his right to lower the hood of his white woolen cloak revealing his keen and bright blue eyes and fair face to all of those in attendance his shoulder length brown hair was still wet from the snow that still blowing outside. Though Hallas 's fair and tanned face did show the rigors of the life as a soldier of realm.

The young noble was courteous to all who would note his arrival speaking up his baritone voice was warm and even, " Evening my fellow countrymen and fair ladies. " Edlyn lowered her fur head towards her master’s fellow humans giving her own version of a bow. Then raised her head once more sniffed the warm air with her black nose immediately catching the scent of young wolf that she’d encountered in the Barracks earlier. She padded forward slowly now seeking him out to provide a friendly face and see what her master would get into this night.

With brisk gesture did the Sergeant undo simple bronze cloak clasp whose image was that of a seabird in flight to that bound his white woolen cloak about him. Now the 22-year old nobleman and non commissioned officer revealed his courtly evening attire. He now waited for responses of his fellow kindred and those beautiful ladies who were dressed in elegant gowns.

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

A slight and bemused smile had found its way onto Thûllir’s face despite his discomfort with meeting new people. She hadn’t dropped his arm, but rather stayed with him as long as they walked, and Kaylin’s enthusiastic enumeration of the various types of swords was rather endearing to him in a way he realized was probably odd. Most men probably wouldn’t find it very wonderful that the lady they were interested in knew so much about blades.

When they reached the ladies Kaylin dropped his arm to free her hands for the effusive greeting she extended, leaving Thûllir slightly at loose ends. Covering his discomfort smoothly, Thûllir stepped forward to give a slight bow to Elesil and Arinelle after Turin shook hands. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well ladies.” He noted Elesil’s comment about dancing as he took a step back again to return to Kaylin’s side. Hesitating a little since he knew it would be polite to offer to dance once the wish was made known, but not wanting to truly do so himself, he glanced over to where young Turin had seated himself with ale from a passing waiter after greeting the wolf. He was confused at the young man's swift shifts in mood from blazing friendliness to this morose look. Perhaps he would enjoy more interaction? He looked bored. Glancing back at the ladies, Thûllir spoke again. “I am delighted to meet some of Kaylin’s sisters-in-arms, and have been enjoying this evening immensely. I have already had the pleasure of dancing, but Turin here has just arrived, and I know there are many men who would be delighted to take a turn on the floor with you lovely ladies.” Slightly worried that they might ask him despite his comments, he shifted a hair closer to Kaylin without giving the impression of retreating. Earlier this evening he would have thought nothing of dancing with every lady there if they so desired, but things had changed. Refraining from contact at the moment since he figured she wouldn’t like it to look like he was that closely attached, he desperately searched for another topic of conversation. A, the wolf…Elenmire was it? Safe enough subject.

Just as Thûllir was about to open his mouth to talk, a voice came from over his shoulder that set the hairs on his neck prickling. Turning to give a cool look to whomever had approached them, Thûllir saw a young nobleman standing there in his finery, with an air of expectancy, and a fine white cloak dripping from his hand. He had never met the man, but the young and slightly weathered looking nobleman seemed to have some acquaintance with the ladies. Despite his earlier attempts at keeping his distance, this sent Thûllir into a slightly defensive mood, and he stepped back a little and turned to keep the man in sight while reaching out to very lightly and yet firmly place his arm around Kaylin’s back so that his hand rested at her left hip. A slightly challenging light was in his eyes as he looked back at the newcomer. “Good evening countryman. I do not believe we have met.” His eyes tracked down to the wolf that had accompanied him and then glanced up again. “It is rare enough to see one wolf outside the wild, let alone two. I have great respect for them, but have never known them to be friendly to man. How is it that the people of Minas Tirith have such affinity for wolves when we do not run with them in Ithilien?” His question was honest enough, and directed at the whole group as he tried to bring himself down from the edge and back into friendliness. He really wasn’t used to crowds. In his distraction he forgot to give his name, but then this man hadn’t offered his either.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

"What? I missed the cookie table?" Kaylin muttered under her breath, though loudly enough for listening ears to hear; her eyes flicking around to see where it was and crossing her arms as she did so. After she'd spotted it, she frowned in displeasure. Then, surprisingly, she grinned and looked at Thûllir. "Must have been too distracted," she said lightly, but her voice subtly carried an amused, conspiratory undertone.

That almost made her miss that Turin shook her roommates' hands, which perhaps was slightly funny to Kaylin, but she refrained from reacting to it with anything but a genuinely friendly smile. The smile remained as she heard him talking about his family, and that if he ever were to have a wolf, he would like it to be white and he would name it Carch. "A good wolf name," she agreed. Turin spent a lot of time focusing on Elenmire; which was great, since both Elenmire as well as Elesil seemed to appreciate it. Elesil was always glad when instead of being afraid, people were nice and/or playful with her jet black companion. One of the roaming attendants was called over by Turin, who ordered an ale. Then the waiter looked around politely at the gathered group to see if anyone else wanted anything, and once he had gotten all of the orders, disappeared into the crowd. Kaylin had ordered a glass of sweet cider. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled as she spoke to Arinelle and Elesil: "On the one hand it's a shame these dresses won't be worn that often, isn't it? Then again - I couldn't imagine myself in this kind of clothing every day," she added, pretty sure that her lady friends would agree. Women who were big on wearing nice dresses like this all the time didn't exactly tend to join the army. "You have both chosen beautiful gowns, by the way. Good call on the green, Arinelle," she specifically told the Woman of Arms. "And I didn't miss the snowflake details you put on both yourself and on Elenmire, Elesil!" Some would put it down to 'women noticing everything', but in reality in Kaylin's case it was only because it had been drilled into her to look for details as part of her training that made her notice the matching details in Elesil and her wolf's attire, and how the green of Arinelle's dress complemented her eyes.

When the drinks came, Turin seemed to lose his attention and sat down on the nearest chair. That seemed slightly weird to her, but she felt a bit sorry for him when she remembered he had told them he didn't go out much. Even though he couldn't have been much younger than she was herself -she guessed perhaps a year or two-, he had apparently lived a rather private, secluded life so far... despite of his ambitions. Overcome by a sudden urge to help him out a bit, and maybe use the opportunity to give one of her roommates a hard time (and that IS what roommates like to do sometimes, after all), she wanted to suggest he dance with one of her friends. However -- while she was certain that Arinelle as well as Elesil would be perfectly able to handle such a situation gracefully (and would likely get back at her for it later), she worried that it might be too much for Turin to deal with at the moment. So after a moment of careful deliberation, she decided not to simply suggest it for all to hear. Instead, Thûllir beat her to it, though he did put the idea into words a bit more subtly than Kaylin would have. That brought an unexpected smile to her face. Perhaps they were more alike than she thought. She tried to give Turin an encouraging look to ask one of her friends out to the dance floor. She hoped he wouldn’t be too shy; he might even end up having more fun than he ever would have thought he’d have at a ball.

Another wolf appeared a few moments later and Kaylin raised her eyebrows as she recognized Edlyn from the time she'd seen the animal in the Barracks common room. Actually, it sort of surprised the red-head that the staff allowed wolves in here, now she came to think of it. Hallas couldn't be far behind, she knew, and soon enough she heard his greeting. Kaylin’s body language automatically became slightly more formal, considering the man’s rank and the fact that she knew next to nothing about him save for his name, position and the fact that he had a companion wolf. Thûllir was the first to openly react to Hallas’ appearance, and she had to admit she was slightly surprised by the way he did. First, she sort of felt him react without looking at him; hers was not the only body language that had changed, but his change felt different from hers, and then she actually felt his hand and arm sliding around her back. Considering she didn’t understand why exactly he was doing it – or at least not why he was doing it at this very moment, and it made her look as if she needed ‘protection’ in front of a military leader besides, her instinctive reaction was to indignantly take his hand from her hip and drop it. However, the liking she had taken to the Ranger kept her from such a clear-cut negative reaction. Instead, Kaylin turned her head to look at Thûllir with a questioning and reproaching frown, her eyes asking him what on earth he thought he was doing. The tone of his voice and the way he emphasized some of his words made that question in her eyes more urgent. He sounded defensive and maybe somewhat passively aggressive whilst pronouncing his first words, and though the tone of his voice and words improved as he continued, it still wasn’t quite.. of the norm.

Kaylin looked at Hallas with a polite and genuine smile, in the meanwhile bending her left arm behind her back, twisting her wrist and meaningfully sinking her fingers into Thûllir’s arm around her, signalling him that he needed to put a stop to his current behaviour towards this man. "Sergeant," she greeted Hallas in a sincerely friendly manner, along with a nod, her fingers sinking a little deeper into Thûllir’s arm to emphasize the word, hoping that whatever that had gotten his bristles up, the rank could get them to lower again. “What a surprise that we may welcome you to our little group. I can’t be sure of course, but I don’t believe you have met Turin over there, who is in learning with a blacksmith,” she told Hallas with a gesture of her head towards the young man, “Or Thûllir here, a Ranger from Ithilien,” she added. “Neither of them have ever been to a ball before.” Neither had she, but that was besides the point. She had given a bit of an excuse for any strange behaviour the seemingly bored Turin or defensive Thûllir might show, and that was that. “Turin, Thûllir – meet Sergeant Hallas Pehwarin.” Behind her back, invisible to their companions, her right arm now slowly forced Thûllir’s left arm away from her. When it was next to his side again, she gently slid her right arm through his left. This way, she made it clear she needed none of his defensive protectiveness or whatever it was; but she also wanted Thûllir to know that she didn’t want to discourage contact between them.

Noticing Hallas’ wet hair and cloak, Kaylin took the opportunity to inquire about the conditions outside. “Considering your wet locks.. Might I ask if it was snow or rain that accompanied you on the way to the Tavern?”

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

Sergeant? The thought was slightly incredulous, but it helped explain Kaylin’s reaction when she gave him a reproachful look, clamped her fingers on Thûllir’s arm and then removed it from her back. Resentment rumbled in his chest a moment that this man’s approach had caused him to stumble with her, but then settled to a muted mumbling when she followed her apparent rejection by tucking her arm back through his. Since the action claimed him in a way that she hadn’t really shown since her earlier reluctance to socialize, Thûllir calmed further and decided that he could continue being civil. He looked down at her with a gaze that was slightly troubled, but conveyed his thanks for both her words and her last action. He lifted his right hand to settle it over her own in acknowledgment, before lifting his gaze to examine this nobleman sergeant again.

Folks in the city seemed a little more in awe of their sergeants than they were in Ithilien, he mused as he looked Hallas up and down. Perhaps it came from the close living situations in the woods, for while the Rangers respected the sergeants there was no deference expected except towards the officers such as Faramir, Mablung or Damrod, who had more than earned it. However this wasn’t Ithilien, and this nobleman was someone apparently within Kaylin’s leadership chain, so Thûllir nodded once towards Sergeant Pehwarin in recognition of the introduction. He supposed he would hear from his cousin if he wasn’t polite to one of her sergeants. He didn’t remember meeting this fellow when he visited her previously, but then again it was true that when he did visit he rarely spent time at the headquarters, preferring her room at the barracks, his parent’s place, or an Inn where they could chat freely. That he had achieved the rank of Sergeant meant that she had approved of him at least somewhat, so perhaps there was more to this man than his appearance suggested. Holding his silence, Thûllir waited for one of the others to answer speak, either in answer to his wonderings, or this man in answer to his lady’s question.

OOC Hallas: These are my character's reactions, so no offense intended. Thanks for joining in the thread.

[Rowena Annis]

Eamon Ellenweorc
He couldn’t remember a time when he had been in such a bad mood. This was supposed to be a night he shared with Ami, his betrothed. And she had decided not to come for reasons of her own, she hadn’t clearly stated why though. He wanted to stay home himself, maybe try and haunt Amilida’s home, see if he could at least see her tonight… But plans changed that.
Zara had made it quite known she wanted to attend this evening, and seeing as to how the village was being restored at this very moment, Rheda had obliged. Balls like this were very uncommon in Rohan, the closest thing to it was Mettare, but Bema knew that still didn’t hold a candle to Minas Tirith balls. As such, Zara was allowed to, knowing full well that it might be the only chance she had to go to a ball. And of course, this meant Jaren, her betrothed, would be accompanying her.
Now, normally Rheda and Valerion would enjoy going to such a function, but after what happened to Rheda on the last trip to Rohan, she’d been left rather weak and despondent. So she had no interest in leaving the house much of late. Valerion, when he wasn’t busy dealing with other affairs, took care of her, but nonetheless, she still didn’t seem too fond of going out in public. So, it was left to Eamon to chaperone the two. Bema knew what sort of trouble they were to get into if they were left alone.
So Eamon came in, dressed nice, but frustrated to no end. He hadn’t even bothered to pull his long hair back, so it just hung there, and he hung back on the wall, arms folded, leering around the room. He watched as people came in the room, including a young teenager by herself. Now that was odd. What mother allowed their daughters free unescorted on a night like this? He shrugged, and turned his attention elsewhere. Her mother probably was around somewhere. Mothers with daughters that age often tried to parade around their daughters anyway.

Zara with Jaren
‘I can too be a lady!’ Zara said pretending to be offended. ‘I just choose not to be! Besides, society is dumb defining what a ‘Lady’ is.’ She grinned and lept up into his arms. ‘Like, a lady shouldn’t leap into her betrothed’s arms. But I rather enjoy it.’
Jaren laughed at her and caught her, holding her tight, looking around as he held her legs up. He then leaned down and kissed her forehead. ‘Well, that’s true, beautiful.’ He then unhooked her legs from around him and tossed her in the air again. ‘And now you are flaunting your garters again, how unladylike of you!’
Zara blushed and squirmed when he finally let her feet touch the ground again. ‘You are insatiable!’
He grinned and nodded. ‘You know it. But you love me anyway.’
‘Bema help me, I do.’ She grinned and held his hand and squeezed it tight.
‘Good, because I love you, my unladylike Lady of Rohan.’ He kissed her forehead again, but then lifted her chin up and lowered his lips to hers, giving her their second kiss. ‘I love you more than I could ever believe.’
Zara smiled and returned the soft kiss, throwing her arms around his neck, and then smiled. ‘I feel the same. But now, I’m hu—‘

Right at that moment, Zara’s words were interrupted as her uncle swooped down upon them like an angry eagle. Eamon had conveniently turned his attention to them as Jaren kissed her. He wasn’t supposed to do that! Who knew how long it would before they start thinking about other things now! He had done that which was improper! ‘Jaren…’ He said with a cold told. ‘I chose you for her because I trusted you…’
Jaren’s face went white momentarily as he heard the cold soft voice of his best friend. ‘At least I had the dignity to kiss her while people were watching.’ He retorted, his tone equally cold.
Zara looked between Eamon and Jaren, looking like she was about to cry. ‘Uncle!’ she says. ‘Please… don’t! Mama woulnin’ care so much! N’ ye know it!’
Eamon glared at his niece. ‘This is not Rohan, Zara. Its best you start figuring that out, now. What your mother would do has no relevance here.’
Zara hissed, ‘You are not my father! You don’t control my actions. And I happen to like kissing Jaren. I like feeling loved! Do you not remember how my MOTHER longed to feel that way? How her world changed for the better the first time Papa Audley kissed her? How happy she was when she realized she loved him? You’d begrudge me that because you feel like you have to make sure I’m a person I’m not?’
Eamon hissed right back, ‘I remember exactly your mother’s situation. And I am not begrudging you that… I’m protecting you from the wiles of men!’
Zara glared at Eamon. ‘Excuse me, but I think after Banan left Mama and after all the things Cuthbert did to her, to us, I’m well aware of the wiles of men. I’m not the innocent gal ye think I is… I have ne’er been, me Mama dinnin’t raise me that way. N’ trus’ me… there ain’t no one more genuine n’ far from men’s wiles than Jaren. He’s my man. N’ always will be. He’s to me as Audley is to Mama. So… in Bema’s name back off.’
Eamon looked like he wanted to slap his niece for her insolence, and perhaps for her reversion to Rohirric accent. But instead, he slapped Jaren. ‘You are corrupting her, Jaren!’
Jaren took the slap with grace. ‘Eamon… I am doing no such thing. And for the record, she’s no child. She’s a woman now… Especially given the standards of your homeland. To which we are permanently returning to the first moment we can.’
Eamon dropped his jaw, clenching his fists. ‘You are lucky we are at a place where elegance and grace should be maintained, or you’d be on the floor bleeding from your insides out…’
Zara glared at her uncle, ‘In fact, I think we are going to Rohan now…’ She looked at Jaren and put her arm in his. ‘Come darling. Let us go to the manor, get my things, and pick up Sanrella.’
Jaren nodded. ‘As you wish, my darling.’ He then kissed her head and led her out of the ball.

Eamon stood there in shock as he watched his niece leave with his best friend. Could he have been wrong? Was it his anger at the unfortunate eventsof the evening that made him lash out? Was it simply a kiss and nothing more meant behind it? He put his hand to his forehead and shook his head. He should have just visited Amilida instead…

[Karis Ziranphel]

The guard at the door had been having a rather quiet evening as he scrutinized guests entering and leaving the premises, watching for trouble makers and thankful for the heretofore calm attendees at the Steward's Ball. He had caught sight of a disgruntled looking Rohir as he entered earlier, but as the Steward wanted them to be on friendly terms with their northern cousins, the guard had merely kept a watchful eye on that one. No reason to cause incident until provoked.
However when he saw the man go up to another with whom he appeared acquainted and start arguing and then slap the fellow, the guard swiftly came out of his casual stance by the door and began to move forward. The young couple brushed by him as they left, and he came up to the Rohir (Eamon) now standing alone. His gaze was cool and assessing but his voice was firm, direct, and polite as he spoke: "Good evening sir. There will be no further accosting of guest at this ball or I will request that you leave. The Steward does not permit violence against any of his guests without good cause, so I caution you to restrain yourself if you would like to stay."

The guard watched the man's reaction closely. He had a choice at this moment, to stay and enjoy himself, to leave quietly, or try more trouble. The later would get him thrown out, but the guard would wait and see first. He was instructed to practice as much restraint as possible.

Pubmistress OOC: Rowena - Great rp-ing. However as I said at the beginning of the thread in the rules there will be no fighting, even within your own post. You are welcome to continue with Eamon in here if he can behave.

[Silendra]

Tindumhiell

The sky had already darkened by the time Tindumhiell had set out from her house and wandered to the Tavern, but the brisk chill of the winter air did not trouble her - not with a long white woolen scarf draped around her bare neck shoulders. Still, the bitterness of the wind made the tiny blue flowers she had set in her air shrink and tremble, each carefully cultivated petal huddling from the cold.

And so, the warmth that emanated from the tavern as Tindumhiell pushed open the door was very welcome indeed, a sudden flush running along her milky skin, although the walk had already put a blush of colour into her high cheekbones. Sweeping an errant tendril of dark hair from her eyes, she scanned the Tavern, looking for someone she might recognise. Tindumhiell was hardly a great socialiser; she lived quietly, tending her small florist's shop, and it was mostly frequented by (depressingly) folk buying flowers for the ill and for the deceased. A few hopeful young swains occasionally passed by to purchase a bouquet for a young one, but apparently, most maidens these days considered this "cheating" and insisted that their young men go out and pick the blossoms themselves. Or better yet, take the young maidens flower-gathering with them.

Slowly, as the warmth and the laughter and the music from the diligent balconied orchestra enveloped her, Tindumhiell unwound the scarf from her neck and looped it around her elbows instead. For jewellery she wore only a simple silver chain, and her dress was a deep blue that complemented the indigo of her eyes - and was strangely similar to the tunic that one of the fellows was wearing (Maedhros), although he looked distinctly uncomfortable. Perhaps they had gone to the same tailor, but where he had bronze buttons, Tindumhiell had a scooped bodice and tiny off-the-shoulder sleeves running into her skirt, which was flared only slightly and certainly not enough to get in the way. A wise decision, in such a crowded area.

Adjusting the flowers in her hair, Tindumhiell moved hesitantly towards the tables laden with delicious smells - there were whole platters of roasted meat that she did not feel quite hungry enough to try. Perhaps she could nibble on a pastry? But meanwhile, a glass of wine would certainly complete the job of warming her up. She edged her way through the crowd, delicately, in shoes that had only the slightest heel on. There was no sense sacrificing sense for fashion, after all - not only was Tindumhiell fairly tall, but she had no wish to spear some unfortunate person's toe with a spiky heel. As it was, she politely dispensed smiles and nods as she pushed through the crowd. There was no need to be rude, after all.

She paused for a moment once she reached the table - was this largesse, or should she be setting a tab up somewhere? But as Tindumhiell stepped backwards, considering her options, she nearly bumped into a broad-shouldered man in black and white and startled quite visibly before looking up into his face. He seemed familiar - from where did she know him?

"I beg your pardon," she said, her eyebrows shooting up as she began to tingle with a mixture of recognition and mortification.

[Moriel]

Various members of Kamion's party had drifted off here and there- some finding other acquaintances, some boldly approaching unaccompanied maidens for a dance, until he found himself nearly alone next to a table near the bar, where various drinks had been laid out, only vaguely listening to the conversation of his two remaining compatriots. Now and again he nodded or mm-hmm'd, but mostly watched the ebb and flow of the room, hands in pockets. So far, apart from his own party, there were few present with whom Kamion was acquainted- but the night was young yet. It was as he was considering that perhaps a glass of wine wouldn't go amiss at this point, and turning to the table beside him, that the Dúnadan very nearly banged into a young woman (Tindumhiell) who had been stepping back from the same. At once he put out a hand to steady her, but it seemed no damage had been done, and his "Excuse me!" tumbled over her I beg your pardon, but that did not stop Kamion from thinking that her voice sounded familiar. He looked up from the azure gown and white scarf and into her pale face, and as his gaze came to the indigo eyes beneath their dark brows, the bolt of realization struck. "Mistress," he said, pressing at once his fist to his heart and bowing deeply, "I fear we have met before- not of course because it is unpleasant to meet again, but because I had the misfortune of knocking into your flowers, and your person, while pursuing a thief through the streets. I'm afraid I was never able to return and apologize, so I hope you will allow me to do so now, and to introduce myself? I am Kamion, son of Darellon."

[Isolde Alarion]

Mourgan Alarion 15
& Andarion 15

We'll have ahh..He was looking over the variety of drinks the tavern offered. I'll have a wine. Andarion spoke up then looked at Mourgans puzzled look. What? I like wine, I had some at the Inn..once. Mourgan shrugged and looked back at the barman. I'll just take a honey ale. With his order made he looked at Andarion. You gonna dance tonight? Andarion shrugged in answer. It wasn't that he didn't want to dance..he'd noticed several pretty girls but he just wasnt sure about it.
Soon a wine and a honeyed ale were presented and each took theirs. Andarion sipped the wine, taking a moment to swallow before he decided if he liked it or not. As it rolled down his throat he had made his decision..he liked it. Mourgan was just about to take a good drink when there was a light "Hello".
Both young men turned their heads to see a pretty young lady standing near them (Amilida). For a moment they both looked at each other, unsure but that passed quickly when Mourgan spoke up first. Hello. It came out almost in a croak, his throat had become dry when he set his eyes on the pretty blonde with the deep purple gown. He quickly took a drink of his ale, gathered his wits and continued. I'm sorry..where are my manners? He nervously chuckled. I'm Mourgan Alarion and he's Andarion. He casually swatted Andarion in the ribs causing his young friend to frown at him but it soon left as the dark haired of the two spoke. Hello..like he said. I'm Andarion. He set his wine down and offered his left hand to shake, his right was bandaged and gloved. Sorry..he motioned to his right hand. I had surgery..but you are?

Beautiful. Mourgan uttered dreamily before he could catch himself and bury his face in his mug for another drink. Andarions dark brows furrowed in bewilderment at his friend. I apologize ahead of time for whatever my friend here might say or do to embarass you.

[kassiopi]

NPC:Narcano

The white city was cold to him. He had been here ages past, when the kings of Gondor were of the blood of old Numenor and their pride and their glory reached to the edges of the east Harad and beyond. He was here in the banquets held by the kings and queens after the great victories, when the darkness of Mordor was the memory of a shade, ever constant but also vanquishable. He was here before he had become a thief, or rather after and before. The half-elf had tried many lives because when one with human blood is found to have thousands of years before him he is willing to do anything to live these years intently and passionately. Narcano had done many things. He was once a general and at other times he was the leader of a shadowy organization. He was a soldier and he was a mercenary. The names of his companions and the guilds he had taken part in were now lost to time but he remembered them.

Now, Narcano liked to think of himself as an adventurer. He did the occasional thieving job again, a contract or a whim to steal from the rich. But he did no soldiering anymore and he did not come to the White City if he could avoid it. Narcano always thought he was closer to Men than to Elves and he had once loved and cherished the glory of Gondor but that was long ago and that glory was now gone. But when he had a contract he would go everywhere to finish it, even in the land where shadows lie. His credibility was at stake here and he would not risk tarnish it. Minas Tirith was a cold city but also a city where richmen dwelled and here was one that had the unlucky fate of being the target of Narcano's employer. A golden orb of great value, not economical but sentimental if the half-elf had understood correctly. This noble in Umbar, fallen from grace, was living his last days and he only wished to lay his eyes on it for one last time. He did not have enough money to actually pay Narcano's due but he had felt for him and decided to do the job for less. The old man promised to tell him the tale afterwards so maybe it would worth it.

Narcano had to watch the richman closely. He had decided to spend some days in the city first and then do the job. This night was his first in Minas Tirith after much time and he wished to just spend his time lightly when on the same time watching the noble man and his lady having dinner in the tavern of the Seven Stars. He attired himself as nicely as possible, with a black linen tunic which was practically new since he had never wore it before, and tight brown breeches. His tunic was tied by a golden belt with dragon-like figures on it, the only thing of value he wore. His hair fell black on his shoulders as always, hiding his pointy ears. There was no reason to let all the nobles and high military of the city notice a dark-skinned elf around. Too much attention for his kind of job. There was a time when he was called the Dark Elf in these places or the Black Devil and then he fashioned his hair tied high up his head to reveal his nature. Long ago...

He noticed several ethereal presences in the tavern. It was a nice place for dancing and drinking and flirting, that was undoubtable. He walked to the bar at the end of the hall, adorned with all kinds of banners, amongst them the Steward's banners. He felt slightly irritated by that. He had no ill-will against the Stewards; they were a necessity and their concept worked well most times. He had even worked for them some ten years ago or less. However, they reminded him that there was no proper King anymore and that hurt somehow.

"Dark, brown ale, if you have one please. Or the best of your ale" he ordered and waited, his elbow on the bar and his legs crossed and his eyes scanning the hall. His target seemed to enjoy his meal with his young lady, perhaps too young for him. Narcano kept wondering what was all this about. The lady seemed delighted enough but the peredhel could not be sure; her eyes were mostly hidden behind the long strands of golden hair. Many of the patrons danced in the main area of the hall. In other celebrations and other midwinter's balls he would know all of the people invited; the power-players, the nobles and the beautiful ladies. Ghosts danced among the dancers and a King, his King he had never managed to save, was a rotten corpse among them. Stop reminiscence, he said to himself and he looked around once more, perhaps to spot a nice lone lady that needed company. Narcano could not just miss such an opportune gathering. His eyes did fell on one, with flowers on her hair (Tindumhiell), but she was not alone right now. She just seemed to misstep and nearly fall on some young man (Kamion)... and that young man now the half-elf could recognize. He was much younger when he had last seen him although he was still a youth. He was one talented swordsman, that one and the he himself had trained him. Years before, but not a so distant past as the one with the Kings in it. His mood immediately lightened up. He did not wish to know the power-players anymore but a few acquaintances were always necessary, everywhere. Narcano decided to wait before going to greet him. He seemed to have the beginnings of a conversation with the young woman right now and did not wish to disturb it.

[Hallas C. Pehwarin]

Hallas was soon hailed by his fellow soldier Kaylin who introduced him to her fellow guests being Thûllir and Turin the latter being a ranger of Ithilien. The NCO walked over to them with ease giving a nod to all three while hearing Kaylin inquire to him if it was snowing or raining outside. The 22-year old fixed his keen and bright blue eyes upon the fair lady who was a recruit within their armed forces. Smiling speaking cordially, " Snowing still for the most though as I journeyed down from my families manor house in the 6th circle."

The young nobleman and non-com flicked his keen and bright blue eyes about noting a few faces some new being a an elf (Narcano ) dressed in rich black linen tunic and golden belt with an image of a dragon into its buckle, some old including one of his fellow northern kindred! That being Kamion , son of Darellon! It had a long time since their service together in the Vanguard Company under Capt. Karis and Sergeant-Major Dhalion De Mein. Thus did the Sergeant speak up, "Excuse me for a moment my friends. I have an old comrade that I'd like to chat with for a bit but I'll be back."

With feeling of pride in his chest did the 22-year old northern dúnedain stride across the floor heading straight for his fellow northern kin. Taking another deep breath did young noble speak his baritone voice low but curterous, " Mellon nin Kamion." "It's been a while but we've met and fought together in Ithilien not to long ago." "Tis I Hallas, son of Rinon Pehwarin. Now a Sergeant within the ranks of the Army of Gondor." The younger of two northern dúnedain now awaited the surely surprised reaction from his former Vanguard comrade in arms.

OOC: Morning Moriel glad to see you back in SL and playing as Kamion!

[Moriel]

No sooner had Kamion made his introduction to the young woman (Tindumhiell) and straightened his back, than another voice made itself known, though not that of the maiden. He glanced to see the owner of the voice and recognized the young Hallas Pehwarin, with whom he had repelled a band of Haradrim from Ithilien, in the not so distant past. "Hallas!" Kamion greeted his fellow soldier warmly, extending an arm to clasp Pehwarin's. "Greetings, my friend- it's been too long, to be sure. Congratulations on the promotion, it was no doubt well deserved. I have been serving in a different company as you know, and it's good to see some Vanguard faces again. But I'm being terribly rude, I was just introducing myself to Miss.. er, I'm sorry, I still don't know your name?" Kamion looked questioningly at the girl in blue, awaiting her reply.

[Silendra]

Tindumhiell

She had a most ungraceful moment of her mouth opening and closing like a fish before she recollected herself, recognition blooming in her own face as Kamion awkwardly introduced himself. Indeed, they had met at a most inopportune moment - and he was lucky that she recalled him at all, the rate that he had sped off after sending her and her prize vases flying! Still, Tindumhiell mentally forgave him, he had at least stopped for a moment to steady her before he dashed off again. Ruefully she thought that this had not stopped her from acquiring a truly magnificent bruise on her hip that rivalled the purple of any flower she could cultivate.

"Tindumhiell, daughter of Anglorin," Tindumhiell managed to respond, correctly, if in some confusion. Annoyingly, her hip had begun to twinge now that she was thinking about it, although it had been fading from its original glorious purple to a depressing, if no less sore, yellow. Fortunately, the blush had begun to fade from her creamy cheekbones as well. "I must accept your apology, Kamion, son of Darellon, especially if you had such good intentions - but I trust at least that I suffered for a good cause and that you caught the thief?"

She took advantage of his stopping to think about this to turn sidelong to the table they were at and pour herself a glass of wine, regardless of what was the propriety was - no one seemed in any urge to hand her one, at any rate, and Tindumhiell felt the need of it. The stem was cool on her palm as she raised the wineglass to her lips. The light, fizzy tang of the wine made her feel better already. Clearly only the best had been prepared for the Ball, and she hid a tiny smile behind the curve of the glass before shaking her head slightly. What a strange coincidence - although Tindumhiell's eyebrows still knotted together at the thought of her smashed vase. She sincerely hoped that whatever the thief had stolen was more than the value of said vase, although she had rather given up any hope of recompense. Still, one carried on. And the ceramic pot she had been forced to dump her produce in had a rustic charm, really.

Kamion had been caught up in conversation with a friend of his who had clasped his arm warmly. Tindumhiell listened in, discreetly - well, it was hardly eavesdropping when the speakers were less than a foot away from you. It seemed they were both Rangers. Tindumhiell was hardly surprised; all the black and white Kamion had been wearing had a distinctly military feel to it, and she pricked up her ears. Rangers were of a world unknown to her - fighting, and death, and living wild; it all seemed both mysterious, brave and terrible to her. She turned her head, and saw a dark skinned lad watching her - no, not a lad; there was something ageless, almost elvish about him. What an unusual belt that was - Tindumhiell shuddered. Although Dragons were no doubt beautiful as well as dangerous, she would as well have owned something with an Orc carved upon it. She took another sip of wine.

[Moriel]

"Tindumhiell." Kamion repeated, enjoying the fell of the name as it rolled off his tongue. "That's a form of Tinúviel, is it not? My Sindarin is not as good as my father's, but fair enough to recognize that. In any case, as it happens, we did catch the thief, and as far as I know he is still languishing in the dungeons." The Dúnadan stopped himself before going into further details about the capture, questioning, and confinement of the thief; it was not that such things were considered sensitive information, but he wasn't sure that Tindumhiell would appreciate them. Apart from those he served with, Kamion did not spend a great deal of time around young ladies, and thought it best to err on the side of propriety. He turned himself to the table (this time at no risk of cannoning into unexpected women), and lifted from it a glass of deep, dark red wine. His gaze caught the girl looking at someone, and he glanced to see who it was- then grinned. Narcano had found his way to the Seven Stars, no doubt up to some mischief or other, and he raised his hand briefly in salute to the half-elf. "That's Narcano," Kamion said to Tindumhiell in a low voice, "a good friend if ever you need one, but not completely prone to obeying the law. He led me into an adventure or two in my youth, I can tell you."

[Galastel]

Arinelle's eyes kept widening further and further as Elesil spoke, until it seemed there was no room left for her eyebrows on her face. Moria, the Black Cavern, was a dark name known even in the south of Gondor. In the stories, worse things than orcs lived there, though nobody could say exactly what. It was a place from whence no traveller returned. That Elves still walked Middle-earth Arinelle had heard, though she was unsure of the trustworthiness of those reports. Certainly, the Rohirrim spoke of the Golden Wood north of their country. But they spoke of it as a perilous land, a place to which few went, fewer returned, and none came back unchanged. If Elves lived also in other places, the young woman did not doubt they would be just as dangerous. Once, it was told, there was an alliance between Men and Elves, and they fought side by side against a common enemy. Perhaps Men had been different then. Or perhaps it was only a legend, for wasn't the enemy that alliance was said to have defeated still there in the East?
But when Elesil turned to the Lord Elrond and the Shards of Narsil, stuff of pure legend as far as Arinelle was concerned, her brow furrowed in doubt. And when Elesil started talking about Dwarves and Hobbits, Arinelle burst out laughing, unable to hold it any more.
“You know, you've almost got me there,” she said, shaking her head and wiping her streaming eyes. “For a moment there, I actually believed you. An enchanted elven land on the other side of the Black Pit? Seriously? And what, pray, are Hoppits?”
Arinelle had had a friend, back in Dol Amroth, who could sit with a beer, and with a perfectly straight face recount his adventures on the moon, or claim that he had been alive when Men first came into the West, and had been put to sleep until now. The young woman had been a fan of his storytelling, she could appreciate a well-told tall tale. It did not for a moment cross her mind that all those unimaginable things Elesil was talking about could in fact be true.


The approach of Kaylin and her two friends turned the stream of conversation into a new route, and Arinelle missed her chance of learning that the world was far more wonderful and mysterious than she believed.
“Kaylin, it's great to see you. Thullir, Turin, a pleasure to meet you.” the young woman responded politely to the introductions, her broad smile confirming the sincerity of her standard words.
“Oh, Elenmire is a terrible attention-stealer, isn't he?” she smiled at Turin's apology. “I can never concentrate on anything else when he's nearby.”
A smile of pleasure spread on Arinelle's face when Kaylin commented about her dress. “My sister chose my dress for me,” she gave credit where it was due. “You look stunning, Kaylin.” she smiled at her friend. “Like fire on snow.” She considered asking what Kaylin had done to her hair, which was wavy today rather than the usual straight, but decided against it. Thullir needn't learn from her than this was not how Kaylin usually looked.
Elesil's comment that they were 'scouting for handsome males' made Arinelle blush. That's not how she would have said it. She did hate being a wallflower, that much was true, but actually saying this to a young man was something she could never have done. Nor could she ever refer to men as 'males' in their presence. Moreover, there were two men and three women present, and it was easy to see that Thullir had eyes only for Kaylin. Any offer to dance would in such a state create an uncomfortable situation. She said nothing, however – what could she say, that would not offend her friend? She could only hope that the men wouldn't take the mention of dancing too seriously.
Thullir, who perhaps felt just as uncomfortable as Arinelle, hurried to change the subject, and Arinelle felt grateful. And the situation was saved wholly by the arrival of Sergeant Hallas. Arinelle's hand almost rose to salute the Sergeant, but she stopped herself in time. By now, saluting had become to her a gesture of respect, done quicker than thought. But at a ball, not in uniform, and her wearing a dress, it was not appropriate. “Sergeant,” she greeted him politely instead, “Happy Midwinter!” At the same time, she noticed Thullir's response. “He's possessive,” she noted mentally. “Be careful, Kaylin.” Of this she thought she might speak with Kaylin. Not there, and not then, however. Back in the barracks, if ever. She'd have to think this through: she meant well, but girls rarely took unfavourable comments about their suitors well, even from good friends, and Arinelle was only Kaylin's roommate.

(OOC: Sorry for the delay. I'm having exams. Or rather, exams are having me.)

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Kaylin noted that Thûllir’s eyes were slightly troubled as he looked at her, but calm – and that was a good thing. He then put his right hand over hers, perhaps to tell her he understood... but then again, that just might be Kaylin projecting what she wanted. She was very aware of his hand covering hers, and she willed herself to keep her own still under his. Meanwhile, Thûllir kept quiet, but nodded towards Hallas after she’d made the necessary introductions. Her gaze flicked back between the people in the group, wondering if they had noticed anything. Was it just her who was picking up on the slight tension? There were some things she might never understand about men, she thought. Then again, women weren’t such an open book all the time either. Eh.

Part of her wanted to pull Thûllir aside and demand to know what on earth he thought he was doing. A lot would depend on Hallas’ reaction, she imagined. Would the Sergeant pick up on the Ranger’s defensive mood? Perhaps not. If he did notice it though, then he had a choice: to deal with it gracefully and purposefully ignore it, being friendly all the same... or to focus on it due to whatever reason, and make things worse. She took a drink of the cider as she wondered what would happen next. Hallas seemed to opt for the first option, and inwardly she let out a pleased sigh. Looked like the Sergeant had his wits about him. And apparently, it had been snow that had assailed him on the way to the event. Kaylin smiled as he excused himself to greet someone else. “Of course,” she replied, “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Arinelle had explained earlier how her sister had picked out her dress, to which Kaylin had nodded thoughtfully. Now might be a good time to answer that, she thought, since she hadn’t had the chance before. “Well, your sister definitely did a good job with the dress then,” she entrusted to her roommate. Remembering Arinelle’s complement from before, she wondered what was up with people and imagery tonight. “As for my ‘image’ tonight - the dress does a lot of the work for me,” she replied with a serious nod, something she honestly believed. “That and a good hairdresser.” At this she grinned inevitably, first at Arinelle and then at Thûllir, shrugging as she did so. She wasn’t one to pretend she was this dolled up all the time.

She also wasn’t one to simply brush over what had transpired just before, so she let go of Thûllir’s arm, easily slipping her hand from under his, and placed her right fist on her right hip, raising her eyebrows at him a little. Tact wasn't exactly one of her strongest qualities, and she almost asked him in front of Arinelle, Turin and Elesil what all of that had been about, but she realized just in time before the question spilled out that it might embarrass not only Thûllir, but indeed everyone in the group. Kaylin stopped herself just in time, and sipped from her glass instead, shaking her head a little after doing so.

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

Kaylin had left her hand where it was at least temporarily, so when the Sergeant decided to ignore Thûllir and instead excused himself to go speak with another acquaintance, the Ranger’s tension eased imperceptibly. Although the brushoff was a little strange, he figured it was probably wiser for all of them, and this would give him a little time to figure out why he had reacted to the man in the way that he did.

The ladies were a bit smoother in their recovery and transition to a new topic than he was, and when Thûllir tuned back in to what they were saying, it was about…dresses…and hairstyles. A bit bewildered, his gaze tracked back and forth between all of them. The things that ladies found interesting…Granted he was interesting in looking at them, just not discussing them. Speaking of looks and image, he agreed with this lady Arinelle’s earlier assessment of Kaylin’s look, although he was quite convinced by this time that he would find her just as fascinatingly beautiful in sparring gear. Fire on snow. Thûllir gave Arinelle a nod in approval of her words despite his bemusement with the topic. When Kaylin commented that the dress and hairdresser did all the work for her, he met her grin with raised eyebrows and a slight shake of his head. She really did seem to think it was all the ball trappings that were bringing her attention.

The intervening comments on attire had helped him calm further, so when Kaylin slipped her hand free his outward expression remained calm despite the slight spiraling in his gut. Uh oh…here she goes. He almost expected a verbal burst of flame, so he was both relieved and kicking himself when she turned to him with that expression and stance. She might not have said anything, but the propped fist, slow sip, and raised eyebrow told volumes. Yeah…I blew it, was his mental thought as he gave a very slight apologetic shrug in response. At her headshake, he lightly blew out his breath and ran his fingers through his air in a mostly unconscious sign of thoughtful frustration. They couldn’t really discuss things here. Perhaps she needed a little distance.

Trying to turn it into a natural gesture he half-turned so that he was partially facing Kaylin and partially facing the rest of the group, and offered a sweeping half-bow. Not quite sure if he had pulled it off or not, Thûllir straightened, cleared his throat lightly and spoke. “I apologize Ladies; Turin. I am apparently still adjusting to the city and need to brush up on my manners. Perhaps I could make it up to you. How about those cookies and coffee?”
Barely pausing for an answer, Thûllir quickly stepped away to find a waiter and then swing by the dessert table. Hoping the ladies had gotten dress-talk out of their systems for the short term, even if they did all have lovely dresses, he reappeared shortly with a plate in his own hand and a waiter in tow. As the waiter placed the coffee service on the table, Thûllir slipped him a tip and then produced the plate of frosted ginger, chocolate, spice, and almond cookies for the group. “Coffee anyone?” Since he had brought it, he offered each a cup in turn, to their aye or nay. Elesil, Arinelle, Turin, and finally Kaylin. Holding out the cup of steaming liquid, he gave her a look of apology and question before turning back to collect a cup for himself. “So...” He addressed the group in general in an attempt to start conversation. Quite unnatural for him in group settings. “What made, or makes you want to join the army, and are there any great events of mischief I should know about? Personally, I practically grew up with the Rangers, and most recently have been asked by some of those scholars at the library to be a test subject for them. They want to get someone to fly like a bird on a giant kite…like the ones the children fly except big…” He trailed off at that, not sure how to continue.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele

The cold had not gotten to her at all, since Pele had made sure to secure against it, so she gave Maldir a I-told-you-so look, grinned somewhat impishly and nodded towards the rich display of food. "Well, it certainly seems that there are a lot of good food stuff to choose from," she said lightly. "And we can choose a table either for the two of us, or with someone already occupying it, if you will. Though I'm still sure that we could pile our plates up high and go dancing, holding them in one hand, and speaking with the fellow-dancers with our mouths full. I think it would be rather exotic and would display our superb skills of doing many things at once."

While chatting away like that, Pele chose some of the food from the bounty presented - a chicken leg, some potatoes and some of the steamed vegetables. Her eyes already hastened to where the sweet things were, but she decided that it was best to leave that for later. As she poured herself a glass of water, she turned slightly to allow for a better look around the busy tavern. There were rather many familiar faces there, and she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of spending a good time with some of them, at least.

Yet she picked her way around the taken tables to one of those few that were still free. Pele supposed that Maldir would prefer to eat properly and to warm up a little bit, before they engaged in any other activities. She settled down and regarded him with a small smile, "Perhaps an evening here will make up for all the cold suffered on the way here and be a nice change from a meal at the barracks or even at home," she said, whilst picking at a potato with her fork. She was not truly hungry, yet those two bread rolls she had eaten before did not leave her leaving full either.

Faramir

After a few tentative first steps Faramir found that he had not forgotten any of his dance lessons, and that his partner was rather light on her feet too. Soon he moved around the dance floor freely and guided Mellya with him securely and even with a few daring moves. He listened intently to her as she told a little bit about herself. At least he could get some idea of who she was.
"Not a popular partner? But why should I choose a popular one - it would cause so much talk that I would have to escape to Ithilien," Faramir laughed lightly, as he imagined what would happen were he to dance with one of the well-known ladies. Probably his father would then have another reason to speak angrily to him.

He gave another chuckle, and then commented on the other things Mellya had mentioned, "It is from quite a distance that you have come then. Are you not missing your homeland, or do the White Mountains and the waters of Anduin make up for it? And are you telling me that you came all this way to become a soldier here?" he shook his head at such a notion. "I would want to keep you from the horrors of war, but who am I to tell you what you should do." His words were serious, yet his grey eyes held a hint of a smile.

"And what would I do, if I were not who I am now?" he said somewhat ponderously, "Probably would still roam the woods, read a lot of books, maybe learn a craft or two to do with my hands. Though I must say that it is quite hard to imagine how things would be. You seem to have a knack for asking difficult questions. So..." Faramir let Mellya do another spin, before catching her up easily again. "Would you fancy another dance, or rather sit down somewhere and perhaps join some other of the gathered people? And do you know anyone here to talk with?"

[Hallas C. Pehwarin]

The young noble and NCO clasped arms with Kamion in the warrior's handshake. His fellow kindred congratulated him on his promotion. Hallas grinned as he listened and watched the elder dúnedain inquire to the lady dressed in tasteful blue dress that he'd bumped into just a little while ago before his arrival at the Tavern. Her name was Tindumhiell and the 22-year old chose to quietly excuse himself choosing to bow out pausing to wish both well with simple words, " Enjoy your evening."

Then did the noble crossed back choosing a path away from the center of the room leaving it to those who were busy dancing over to where the refreshments and food was placed. His keen and bright blue eyes then spotted his friends from earlier being;Kaylin ,Turin, Elesil, Arinelle, and finally Thûllir . The ladies were discussing about their dresses they were currently wearing while the ranger must have done something for he had shone back up with a waiter cups, and steaming pot of coffee whose aroma made Hallas's aquiline nose twitch just from the smell. He then voiced his query to all of the ladies namely why they'd wish to join the Army.

The young Sergeant silently thanked the ranger for his query spoke up again his baritone voice curt yet also direct, " I think that would be obvious Thûllir." "To defend the kingdom for their families, kith and kin, or maybe be swooned by some gallant young lad who fights beside them." The young noble and NCO now silently cringed to himself as he swept his keen and bright blue eyes away from having glanced at the Steward's banners. Which normally bore no device yet for the evening bore the White Tree to gauge the expressions of those who stood before him. The 22-year old northern dúnedain wondered if he'd spoken up in haste.....

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

The Ranger chose to reply to her unspoken reprimand with a sweeping half-bow to the entire group. Kaylin slanted her head, wondering what he was up to now. Then he apologized to everyone, and got cookies and coffee for those who wanted some. Blinking, she was utterly perplexed as he held out a cup for her, and she slowly put down the cider and accepted the cup. Her amazement only increased when he offered her an apologetic and questioning look, and then once again when he asked a general question to the group, and followed up with asking about mischief. This one? Asking about mischief? She was just flabbergasted with everything he was doing, since it didn’t fit into the picture she’d sketched of him at all. Slowly she realized she actually liked that; she appreciated a level of unpredictability in a person. When Thûllir went on that he had been asked to be a test subject for flying some kind of kite, she was in part baffled, in part very into the idea, and in a very small part, on a deeper level, somewhat worried. After taking a moment to taste the coffee, it was mostly her enthusiasm at the craziness of the idea that took over.

“That sounds utterly insane!” she exclaimed with a sparkle in her eyes. “Which makes it awesomely interesting of course... But how would you even go about being a test subject? You would need to be on some kind of height to check if any of the designs would work, I imagine – but not too high so as not to get badly hurt if the design should be flawed...” She tapped a finger against her chin. “With some careful thinking though, it might really be worth it. Think about the possibilities...” Her voice trailed off as she imagined several new ways to get into trouble using such kites. A grin grew on her face as she did, nodding a few times at certain ideas. “Oh yes. Very interesting...”

The excitement at her mischievous ideas involving kites had almost made her forget entirely about his questions. However, Hallas had rejoined the group moments before, and his answer to Thûllir’s words reminded Kaylin of them. Hallas’ answer also made her frown in displeasure at the Sergeant, her eyes carrying a rather annoyed expression. She couldn’t help it – rank or not, the fact that he suggested that women might join the army with the intention to find a man that way... She didn’t like that at all. Even though she had to admit Hallas had said ‘maybe’, it still vexed her. Besides, he might have been joking. Kaylin noticed how the Sergeant cringed a little, and she wondered if he knew that his words might have the wrong effect on the three women in front of him. To maybe be swooned by some gallant young lad who fights beside them. Geez. She sipped her coffee again, closing her eyes in the meantime to figure out how to react verbally to that. It was a joke, she decided. Of course it was a joke. She could perfectly counter that, then.

“Yeeeees, defending my loved ones and the Kingdom as a whole is basically secondary to my wish to find a well-built soldier to sweep me off my feet,” she finally said in a sarcastic tone of voice, and with one hand she made a flourish to the ceiling to emphasize she was being the opposite of serious. “It was really all I could think about when I enlisted, and while I was cutting through Orcs and such at Cair Andros.” Putting the rest of her cup of coffee down at the moment, she took a chocolate cookie, paused and, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, broke the cookie in half. “What an entertaining idea, Sergeant. I wouldn’t dare to imagine it – what a much weaker army we would suddenly have. Or, even better, imagining that the men joined as a way to have greater appeal to the ladies; you know, to make themselves seem honourable and courageous...” Kaylin nodded. “All of Mordor would be laughing in our faces, I imagine.” She took a bite of one half of the cookie.

[Galastel]

Arinelle


Arinelle refused Thullir's offer of coffee. It never ceased to surprise her that people enjoyed this terribly bitter drink. It tasted like acorns to her. She did, however, pick an almond cookie, and asked a passing waiter for a grasshopper – a sweet after-dinner cocktail with a refreshing minty taste.

“Oh, it could be wonderful to fly, if that was possible.” she agreed with Kaylin wistfully. Arinelle had stood in the prow of a ship on a windy day, and it had felt almost like flying – the wind and the salt spray in her face, her hair flying behind her, the shore fading behind, and the endless blue line of the horizon ever ahead. But what those scholars were offering Thullir was so much more... Dangerous too, of course. “Have they tried out this kite idea with an inanimate burden first? Say with a sack of sand?” she asked, forcing her flying imagination to come back down.

She was considering how to answer Thullir's other question, how to put into words the burning feeling that made her join the Dagarim Aran, without breaking the light-heartedness of the conversation, when Sergeant Pehwarin rejoined them.
“I think that would be obvious Thullir.” Hallas answered for the three women, “To defend the kingdom for their families, kith and kin, or maybe be swooned by some gallant young lad who fights beside them.”

Arinelle's eyes flared in anger upon hearing this, and she put down her grasshopper, fearing to break the fragile glass in her hand. For one thing, there was nothing obvious about a person's reasons for joining the army. Some went seeking glory, and some sought death, some defended loved ones, while others had nothing left to defend and only graves to avenge. Some enjoyed swordplay and learned too late just how different real battle was from play and training. Some wanted to impress a girl, or prove their worth to their family, or to themselves. There were those who had been raised to a military career by their families, and had never considered another route. There were dozens of reasons. And in the end, they all stood together against a common enemy.
For another, the Sergeant's last comment was preposterous, sexist and offensive. It was definitely not what she expected to hear from a man she followed into battle.

Kaylin was quicker than Arinelle to find her tongue and answer the Sergeant with sharp and sarcastic words. Arinelle could only nod in agreement. But when Kaylin finished, Arinelle decided it was her turn to speak. And unlike Kaylin's, her tone was serious, tight, intent, her words slow, as if she was trying to restrain herself.
“Sergeant, if I had wanted men to swoon at the sight of me, I might have stayed at home, worn a dress and kept away from the dirt and dust of the Training Grounds. If I had wanted to please my family, I might have become a scholar or a medic like my eldest sister. Had I wanted to pursue my hobbies, I might have sailed the wide, wild, shimmering sea. Yet I have left friends who were dear to me, left the home that I loved and the warm beaches of Dol Amroth. Chances are, Sergeant, that I will never live to bear a child. My family is far, Sergeant, and they do not agree with what I'm doing. I am not here for them. Even my second sister, married to a ranger here, would have rather seen me far from this frontier. I had many paths to choose from, Sergeant, and this was perhaps the hardest. But this is my land, Sergeant.” She made a wide gesture with her arm, as if trying to encompass all of Gondor, from the blue seas of Dol Amroth in the west, with the fish markets and the salty tang in the wind, to the fragrant forests of Ithilien in the east, with the loud birdsong at dawn. “My land.” her hand returned to rest over her heart, clasped in a tight, passionate fist. “I will not cede a single inch of my land to the Enemy. I will not see a single blade of grass trampled under their dirty hobnailed boots.” The young woman fell silent, but there was a challenge burning in her eyes, as if she dared the Sergeant to call that obvious, or to mention swooning boys again. Hallas had perhaps meant his comment as a joke, but for Arinelle this was no laughing matter.

[Silendra]

Tindumhiell

"Why, so it is," rejoined Tindumhiell in surprise as Kamion commented upon the translation of her name. A pleased smile crept to her lips and she tipped her head to her wineglass. She would not necessarily have expected a military man to be familiar with the nuances of language; although many of the inhabitants of Gondor knew at least some Sindarin, and some even the high-elf tongue of Quenya, few were conversant with Noldorin or the more historical forms. "My mother felt it lighter on the tongue than the more common form."

She was pleased to hear that the thief had been apprehended - her bruise was a worthy trophy, then - but Tindumhiell caught the faintest hesitation as Kamion stopped himself from describing the circumstances. No doubt it was inappropriate for party conversation, especially to a lady; Tindumhiell made the faintest moue of discomfort before taking another sip of the wine. No doubt noting her pleasure at the fresh taste, Kamion turned and poured himself a glass, although he had gone for the red - a deep, dark, fruity looking beverage that glistened promisingly. He gestured with his free hand - oh; he had noticed the figure Tindumhiell had noticed earlier. Narcano. Keeping her eyes on her glass, so as not to stare, Tindumhiell peeked out from under her eyelashes again at Narcano - indeed, he had the sort of visage that was not only ageless but faintly mischievous, now Tindumhiell thought about it. Or did he? She could not quite make up her mind. And at any rate, it was rude to pre-judge people - although Kamion appeared to be a friend of Narcano and was rather confirming her opinion.

"Friendship is always to be treasured," Tindumhiell said demurely, "but I cannot say I know much of adventures - would you care to tell me more of them, or would you like to invite him to join us?"

[Moriel]

Kamion saw Hallas off with a wave as his comrade returned to the party from which the sergeant had come, leaving him alone with Tindumhiell once more. "Don't know much of adventures, eh? I've had my fair share, they sort of come with the soldierly territory. Narcano I actually met while still in school, he'd been invited in to help us lads with our swordplay and took a liking to me, leading to my participation in some of his sojourns, including the misappropriation or re-appropriation of certain gemly articles." Kamion grinned, and called out across the tables, "Narcano!" he waved and arm to hail the half-elf, and beckoned him over. "I'm certain his telling would be more entertaining than mine. But, do tell me- have you always lived in the city, then? Does florist blood run through your veins?"

[Hallas C. Pehwarin]

Hallas now saw the looks upon the faces of the gathered ladies. Instantly the young NCO regretted spoken words! The first to speak up was Kaylin and her remarks were witty and sarcastic. But Arinelle 's and the tone of her voice now made the 22-year old northern dúnedain grimace and after several tense moments did he find his voice. His tone was very apologetic, "Ladies my apologies I've offended with my words." "Indeed Recruits Arinelle and Kaylin I believe in that every one of our people who chooses of their own free will to don the uniform of our armed forces would probably say the same thing." Hallas then refilled his lungs with the warm air that resided within the Tavern. " For myself I was raised to be a noble and heir of my family." " But nearly those who possess a shred of Númenórean blood will fight with such resolve to make certain that Gondor endures until the end of time or that by some miraculous miracle the King returns to claim the Throne within the Citadel." "But who can truly predict the future, eh?" " All we can do is hope for the best and live our lives to fullest extent possible."

[Karis Ziranphel]

Thûllir Bregedŷr

When he saw the Sergeant approach their group again, Thûllir was careful to prepare himself mentally so that he would not react outwardly. As he listened to Kaylin’s enthusiastic reaction and watched the delight on her face at the thought of using a huge kite to fly, a warm smile lit his eyes. Taking a sip of his own steaming brew, he also listened to Arinelle’s thoughts on the subject, and was about to respond when Hallas spoke up to answer his first question. His eyes widened and eyebrow lifted in incredulity at the second half of his statement and then narrowed at the slight cringe as the man glanced up at the Steward’s banner. What’s wrong with the banner? Trained to be suspicious of everything, Thûllirremained silent and eyed the man while giving an almost sympathetic shake of his head. To say such a thing in the presence of ladies who actually served? It could maybe have been passed over in the company of those whose days were spent in lace and tea rather than in the training arena, but he almost pitied the man for breathing such thoughts here. It must be the surroundings since they look so different from the barracks. He was sure that theSergeantmustn’t have mentioned any such thoughts openly before, or he wouldn’t have survived long under a woman’s command. His lips twitched in amusement, and he hid them behind the safe shield of his coffee cup. Silence seemed to be the better part of wisdom at the moment, although as he hoped thatKaylin would remember his earlier words of approval of her skill he also hoped she would not construe his silence as agreement.

The amusement faded as he listened first to Kaylin’ssarcastic comments and then Arinelle’svery serious words. It was as if they had listened in on one of his cousin’s early private tirades against chauvinists in the ranks who wouldn’t respect her as a woman. Thûllirnodded in agreement and respect atArinelle’s words. Indeed, the life they had all chosen was the hardest choice, particularly for a woman, and never entered into lightly if he had any knowledge of his companions of bow and blade. He knew far too many men who at least initially entered the service lightly, but not many survived or stayed long if they did not have or develop deeper motives. Taking another thoughtful sip of his coffee, he waited for the Sergeant’s response, which thankfully was not long in coming. His hackles rose again slightly at the mention of grades of lineage, but he mentally smoothed them again before attempting a reply. He couldn’t remain silent any longer, but wanted his words to be calm.

“Sergeant.” He began. “I do agree with your first point, although it may be truly just the likely answer rather than the obvious one. As Arinelle here has so eloquently put, everyone joins for different reasons, although it is truly my hope that all share this desire to defend these lands from encroachment by the enemy, not all join for that reason. If, as you implied, men or women let themselves be so distracted in battle by the sight of their compatriots or by the attempt to impress another rather than focusing on the mission or fight at hand, they will likely betray themselves and their companions to death and ruin. As you likely know from your experience, successful missions result from focusing on the mission, not romance, and successful fights rely on intense focus in battle. For my part, I have the highest regard for anyone who picks up a blade or bow in defense of this nation, but even more so for the women who have fought beside me and make the sacrifice. Men can give up much, but women often give up more, and a higher cost is demanded of them.” That speech was long for Thûllir, and although he had felt compelled to speak, he felt foolish for carrying on so long. Glancing down at the cup in his hand, he paused a moment, and then lifted it as he looked around at the group. “A toast...to Gondor and those who defend her lands, both Lads and Ladies…especially the Ladies!” He knew it may not sooth tempers, but it was his peace offering here, and something they could hopefully agree on.

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Arinelle followed up on her words, in a different way, but driven by the same feelings and reasons, Kaylin knew. A faint smile conquered her face as she noted her roommate’s tone of voice and her bearing. The smile showed how pleased she was not to be the only one to give a wilful reaction towards the Sergeant – not pleased in a happy, giddy sort of way, but rather in a calm, victorious manner. Kaylin had used sarcasm to spell out her disapproval of Hallas’ words, but Arinelle did a wonderful job of seriously expressing how she felt about them. The Woman of Arms might consider a career in public speaking, the recruit thought. The build-up was well done, and she hit the point she’d wanted to make with an anvil instead of a simple hammer.

She gave Arinelle a look that conveyed her agreement with and understanding of her words. The woman had spoken truthfully... Being a soldier was hardly an attractive quality, since it painfully increased the odds of an untimely death, and leaving your loved ones behind too soon. Kaylin had never thought of an army career as a way to get a suitor, since she rather thought it would chase men away; thinking at least most of them wanted someone they could rely on to be there for them, and not go out on a mission and stay away forever. Being a soldier hardly pleased her parents, since they thought of the very same thing; that they might lose their only child to a painful and violent death. It was true that her parents had purposefully put her through harsh training since she was young, but their intent was never for her to become a soldier. It was true she had been sent here by them, but they didn’t mean for her to enlist here.

What Arinelle said rung true: this was her land... And Kaylin felt the same connection to it, however strange such a connection might seem. To some people. Her roommate’s words had also mysteriously calmed Kaylin down, as if understanding and appreciating Arinelle’s feelings had settled her own. Probably best.

Granted, it did seem like Hallas hadn’t meant his words. He apologized sincerely and went on to speak of the King’s return one day... Kaylin even had to smirk – just a little – as she heard that. She wasn’t sure if there was some silent agreement in the White City not to openly speak of the possibility of the return of the King... but she had gotten a feeling there might be. In any case, Sergeant Pehwarin didn’t seem to think there was, or it could be that he didn’t care. After all, the Stewards were just that; Stewards, not Kings. Even so, she didn’t really feel too comfortable talking about it in such a social and open setting, so she didn’t pick in on the subject. Apparently, Thûllir had something to say about the words as well, and Kaylin hadn’t expected that he would go over to the other side of the scale and proclaim he had higher regard for women who decided to pick up arms than he did for men. Her eyebrows went up a little, and she gave him a warm smile at his toast whilst shaking her head. She held up the other, uneaten half of her cookie. “To both the men and women crazy enough to do the job,” she offered in a pleasant voice, trying to express that she had no wish for extra respect just because she was female, and in addition to lighten the mood a little with her phrasing. “And to all the other citizens who make Gondor into what it is, be they traders, or crafters, and so on and so forth.” They all played an important part in the end. A country couldn’t function without different kinds of people.

In the back of her head, she wondered how the conversation might take a turn now. Elesil might still answer Thûllir's earlier questions, or Turin... Kaylin was trying to think of any 'great events of mischief', as Thûllir had called it -- but she wasn't about to spell out the mischief she'd already pulled, and she wasn't planning anything in the near future. Her mind went back to the kites and flying over the city or the fields of the Pelennor... It seemed daunting yet thrilling at once. Brilliant yet sort of stupid. The thought that the serious Ranger standing next to her would even consider participating in such a project, made her eyes twinkle. So he had a silly, adventurous side, then. Interesting.

[kassiopi]

Narcano

Τhe seemingly young man sipped his ale while looking around at the faces and sometimes at the couple still seated in a corner, silently having their dinner. The ale was good enough though the one in the Prancing Pony was the best he had tasted the last twenty years or so. His eyes kept turning to his friend eager to meet him again and learn his latest news. The last time he saw him they had parted somewhere in Ithilien and Narcano wondered what he was doing lately. A guard in Minas Tirith maybe or a ranger in Ithilien. Camion was not the one to settle down at any time so Narcano was certain they would have interesting things to discuss. He had some things to say on his own of course but after some more ales maybe. They could also remember their adventures. The half-elf preferred to work alone mostly but at times he could find a companion or two that he could travel with. Those travels were a bit more dangerous than he had initially planned but this happens with adventures some times. His latest companion was a constant one but it was a tiger also and he suspected he could not just send her away… after all she had followed him in the first place. He did not wish her to go away of course.


His friend now had a conversation with another young man that he seemed to know well. His eyes were a lively blue and Narcano instantly liked the man. Perhaps they might exchange some words later on; the peredhel could be really sociable at times. The young officer took his leave after a while and at that point Camion seemed to notice Narcano. He waved a hand at him and called him. Narcano nodded and after one last sip of his ale he headed towards the table. On his way there he noticed the couple he had come here to watch. They seemed to argue for something and the woman for the first time in the night seemed to utter more than one word at a time. He wondered what had upset her but amongst all those people and noise his hearing wasn’t good enough to actually understand the muffled voices that he could hear. Not quite an elf, that was certain.


“I had thought to look for you my friend when I arrived this very morning. What a joyful coincidence to see you here!” he told him and reached to greet him. “It’s been a long time and I was wondering what kind of adventure keeps you busy lately” he said and did remembered then he had not greeted the gorgeous young woman on his side. “Madam, I am thrilled to see that the beauty of old queens still lives in the ladies of Minas Tirith! I am Narcano and I would love to also know what name the Southerners gave to a flower such as you!” he said. Always be kind to the ladies, an old friend used to say. Narcano loved flirting with them even though most of the women he met in his journeys, beautiful as they were, had a great liking for blades and bows and little liking for vexing half-elves who meddled in their affairs, whatever compliments he made to them. An opportunity to make a compliment to a lady and to have her smile and not draw a blade to you could not be missed. After all he had not meddled in any affair of this young woman here… yet.

[Hallas C. Pehwarin]

Hallas heard the ranger Thûllir's toast and glanced at the nearby table covered in white linen bearing both food and endless array of drinks. His keen and bright blue eyes caught sight of two silver decanters filled with either tea or coffee both of which would give him a way to prevent him from making any more comments. Taking his time and filling the china cup with warm coffee adding some milk and speck of sugar did the young noble and Sergeant stir his beverage. Then did he allow it time to cool enough to prevent from burning the inside of his mouth or tongue. The picking up the delicate cup with his left hand did he raise it to his lips opened his mouth allowing some of coffee to enter and warm the insides of his tall and lean frame.

The evening was certainly proving to Hallas another lesson in manners. Since his recent words much less his opinion were making certain ladies annoyed namely at him! But they were justified and so did he vow for the rest of the evening to refrain from making any comments unless they were directed to him personally....

~Meanwhile~

Edlyn had decided to roam around the huge brightly lit room crowded namely with her master's race the southern dúnedain though most seemed to her to be of lesser blood but no less proud of their heritage and their resolve to see their country through its current troubles with the East. The aged female wolf's brown eyes as well as her nose caught sight and smell of the food arrayed on the table that was situated against the far wall of the establishment called the Tavern! Now she sought out her kin namely young Elenmire . Who seemed to be the attention of several of the ladies grabbed in flowing cloths while the men seemed to be dressed in more muted colors including her own master. The elderly wolf now slinked her way toward those clustered around her fellow wolf!

[Arnyn Dealedwen]

Kaylin’s attention turned elsewhere as she took very small bites of what was left of the cookie, her eyes wondering around the tavern. She still needed to greet Sergeant and Lieutenant Alarion. Her gaze found them sitting down at a table. Perhaps there would be time for that later, she mused, unwilling to disturb the couple when it looked like they were about to eat. Momentarily, her eyes slid past Captain Faramir, which reminded her of the small discussion (if you could call it that) which she’d had with Thûllir earlier. A soft chuckle escaped her, after which she picked up her coffee cup, finished it, and put it back. It was a drink you had to appreciate, either having a taste for it or not – and she had to admit she could really savour a cup from time to time. She’d heard people warning her not to drink it too late in the evening or at night, but she didn’t understand why, since she slept just as well whether she drank some or not. Perhaps her body was used to it, or perhaps it just didn’t respond to it in the same way as others – who knew?

As she put the cup back she unintentionally brushed against Thûllir’s arm, and she gave him an innocent look when his eyes turned to her, shrugging slightly at the same time. After a moment of lingering on the Ranger, her gaze went out to the rest of the Tavern again, and she was a bit more aware of the music that was being played at the moment; the tune was changing into a slower, slightly haunting set of notes that sneakily carried her thoughts away to other places. The musical arrangement was in fact rather beautiful, and combined with the lull in the conversation of the group, Kaylin drifted away a little, the faintest wisp of a smile on her face as well as in her blue-grey eyes, her head and upper body unconsciously moving with the music ever so slightly. In thought she was humming along, whilst in reality she kept her silence for now. She didn’t feel uncomfortable at the quiet moment, given that the music allowed her to make the best of it. The arrangement made her think about the trip she’d made from Linhir to Minas Tirith, and about what had happened since she’d arrived here. Visiting the inn and having a chat with Pele, the headquarters, the armoury, training, puling that prank in the Barracks, going to the Marketplace with Pele and Mourgan, the Cair Andros campaign, and finally the ball. So much had happened since her arrival that she could hardly believe it. More good than bad, too, and that was important to focus on.

[Elesil Narsil]

In reply to Thûllir, after Elesil shook her head of some wondering, "I have always been at ease with animals moreso than humans. After my husband left me sometime ago, I haven't had much luck with humans other than friends and aquantances." She then accepted the mug of coffee that was offered to her. "Many thanks." Elesil took a sip and then continued, "I never thought that I would be so popular tonight. I thought that I could slip in and just be unnoticed with my companion."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sergent Hallas' wise wolf coming twords Elen. Elesil looked down to Elen and noticed that he was beginning to tire of all the attention himself, so Elesil smiled and said almost silently to Elen, "Go ahead. Be good." Elen then got to his feet and started off twords Edlyn.

(OOC:Sorry I was gone for so long, training new people at work. Let's hope the wolves play nicely...lol)

[Silendra]

Tindumhiell

Tindumhiell smiled into her glass as Kamion beckoned over Narcano before answering.

"In a manner of speaking, it does," she said lightly in response; "my mother loved plants and flowers, but it was not her livelihood as it is mine. She was a singer, and she would sing to the plants to make them blossom; it is her love of song that gave me my name. And indeed, they do seem to bloom best when they are sung to," Tindumhiell added, raising her blue eyes from her drink with a sparkling midnight laughter; "like all living things, I suppose, they love the attention!"

Almost unconsciously her hand rose to her black hair to brush the flowers lightly that she wore there - only lightly did the woman's fingertips brush each dainty petal, for they were fragile, especially in such weather, and she would not bruise their delicacy, as Narcano wove his way towards them. There was a hint of clever mischief in his face - and on his tongue as he spoke to her. Such a speech! such compliments! A tiny hint of rose dusted Tindumhiell's cheekbones and she lowered her dark eyelashes modestly before taking the folds of her blue satin dress in her free hand, dipping the tiniest curtsy in reply to his greeting - as Kamion had not yet made the introductions himself, and Narcano had already addressed himself to her. Well, she supposed, there was no need for excessive formalities, even if this was the Winter Ball, and after that little speech it was impossible that he would think that she was overly forward.

"I am named Tindumhiell, good sir," she answered him, "and my friend Kamion tells me that you are Narcano? He has also promised that you are one to weave tales of adventures...."

She was still not quite certain if what Kamion had been hinting at was a joke or perfectly true - jewel theft, for example? Surely not? Kamion had looked deadly serious, but Tindumhiell was, after all, not familiar with what Kamion considered to be humorous.