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GamgeeFest's Keepsakes  by GamgeeFest

A little background: In my story Distractions, the hobbits discovered that Aragorn had withheld information from them regarding Arwen, namely that she would soon be arriving to marry him. Rather than tell Aragorn that they knew about his secret, they devised a scheme in which they invited some barmaids to a ball honoring the visiting Haradrim so that the barmaids could entertain Aragorn.


This is for Dreamflower, who wanted a follow up on the barmaids’ perspectives. This story takes place between chapters 24 and 26-28 of Distractions. Some of the dialogue and text comes from those chapters.




A Night at the Ball


Minas Tirith

21-22 Forelithe, 1419 SR


“So, what are you and your friends doing tomorrow night? Would you like to go to a ball?”

I of course assumed Sir Meriadoc was merely jesting. He was well in his pints by then and while it does seem true that hobbits hold their liquor more successfully than do men, surely such a large amount of hops would impeded even a hobbits’ senses.

My sister Isolda and I shared a laugh over it in the kitchen. “Can you imagine it, Laine?” Isolda said, wiping tears from her eyes. “The periain truly are jesters!”

Marja and Esti merely shook their heads and returned to the common room with their trays of drink and food. I couldn’t imagine it. To think, a bar wench in the High Court attending a royal ball? Serving at one would be a stretch in itself, but attending? What a lark!

The joke was on us however. Sirs Meriadoc and Peregrin found us at the end of our shift as we were preparing to leave. They grinned up at us toothily. For all their drinking, they seemed remarkably clear-headed, but I’ve known men who don’t show their drunkenness either. 

“So, ladies,” Sir Peregrin said in that lilting accent that made it sound as though his words were curling in upon themselves. “Have you thought about Merry’s proposal. We do need to bring a guest with us, and Sam and Frodo will need a guest each also. So how about it?”

“You’re serious?” Isolda asked.

“Of course we are,” Sir Meriadoc said. “There is one condition though.”

“What’s that?” Marja asked.

“While you’ll be going with us, your primary task will be to keep Strider company and entertain him,” Sir Peregrin said.

“Strider? Who’s Strider?” Esti asked uncertainly. 

“I’m sorry,” Sir Meriadoc said. “We mean Aragorn, the King.”

“The k-king?” I asked, nearly choking on the word. They called the King Strider? They wanted us to entertain the King? At a royal ball?

I could see similar thoughts going through my sister’s and friends’ minds as well. Marja narrowed her eyes at the periain. “Of what sort of entertainment were you thinking?”

“Strider has been close with us, keeping secrets he ought not to keep,” Sir Meriadoc said. “And for that, he must pay.” They both grinned innocently. “Nothing too scandalous. We wouldn’t want your fair reputations tainted after all. Just flirt with him a little, like you do the lads here, and keep him company during the feast. I’m sure he’ll be more than gentlemanly enough to dance with each of you, which will keep all the other ladies from fawning all over him as is their wont. You may even get to dance with Faramir as well. The food is delicious, and I’m sure the Haradrim will put on an excellent show, just as they did for their welcoming feast.”

“I don’t know,” Isolda said, but I could see the excitement in her eyes. No doubt, that excitement was mirrored in my own eyes, as they were in Marja’s and Esti’s. “Flirt with the King? We wouldn’t get in trouble for that?”

“Of course not,” Sir Peregrin said with a dismissive flap of his hand. Trouble wasn’t even a thought apparently. Or rather, trouble was the thought, but of a different sort entirely. “It’s just a lark, and he’s a marvelous sense of humor. He’s an excellent dancer, or so we assume, having never seen him dance before. He is quick and sure on his feet; we can attest to that, having seen him in battle many times. What’s more, he’s been bathing regularly since returning to the city, so you’ve nothing to worry about in that regard.”

“Oh,” Esti said, which summed up our thoughts on this last declaration quite neatly.

“The feast begins at seven, but we will be arriving at five, which means you’ll need to be at our house by four-thirty at the latest.” Sir Meriadoc fished in his pockets for a scrap of paper. This revealed itself to be their address on the fifth circle and directions on how to find it. “We’ll see you then.”

“We’ll sort out who’s attending with whom once you get there,” Sir Peregrin said. They bowed gallantly and left. 

The door closed behind them and we stared at each other, rapidly coming to the same conclusion. 

“Do we dare go?” Esti asked. Yes, in other words.

“We’ve nothing to wear for such a high function,” Isolda said. But that wouldn’t stop us.

“I don’t even know how to curtsy,” I said. I’d have to learn, obviously.

Marja took the directions from Isolda and stared at the parchment. “Ladies, we shall have to make attendance with Lady Enora tomorrow.”

“Sir Meriadoc said nothing scandalous,” I reminded her.

“She has respectable dresses, Laine,” Marja said, “and we want to look good for the periain.”

Isolda took the directions back. “Oh, to dance with the King!”

“What sorts of secrets do you think he’s keeping?” Esti asked, standing on her tiptoes to look over my sister’s shoulder at the parchment.

“That’s not our concern,” Marja said. “We shall meet back here at seven in the morning. Agreed?”

We agreed and slipped out the back door. We separated in the alley, heading for our homes. Our beds were calling, but I doubted any of us would be sleeping much that night.




Lady Enora was the wife of Sir Baragon, an old and highly respected knight. Eyebrows had raised when he announced their engagement; Lady Enora had been working in a bordello at the time. She proved herself capable of conforming to high-class society, even if she was not accepted in all circles at first. She persisted, and being the wife of Sir Baragon, it was difficult for the other ladies to rebuke her for long. She attended the functions as she was expected to and now had a handful of ladies she considered true friends in the court. 

Isolda and I sometimes worked for her, serving drinks and dainties at parties that Sir Baragon holds in his home. Sometimes we went simply to visit and enjoy her company. When not pandering to the court, she was a bawdy and delightful presence, and the stories she told about some of the lords were enough to make your ears burn. 

We went to see her right after breakfast, and she wasted no time in getting us into dresses. She had an expert eye for size and coloring and pulled out dresses that would match each of us. She commanded her own seamstress, a withered looking woman who was stronger and quicker than she looked. She had us in and out of the dresses faster than we could have managed on our own. She paraded us around the house for Lady Enora’s inspection, so we could get a feel for the way the dresses moved and so she could analyze us in different types of lighting. Once Lady Enora gave her approval, we were marched back to the seamstress’s quarters, where she took measurements and pinned back the dresses where they would need to be altered. 

By the time we left the seamstress, in naught more than our undergarments, Lady Enora had called upon some of the young women from Madam Philomena’s Red Velvet House. They wasted no time in sitting us before the washing tubs and going to work. We didn’t even have time to protest and before we knew it, we were washed, our hair was dripping wet and shiny, and the lasses were standing back, examining us with calculating eyes. Then they sat us in front of the vanity and set to drying and combing our hair.

“Are you really going to get to dance with the King?” “I saw the Ring-bearer once in the market. I couldn’t bring myself to even speak to him. Have you decided which one will be going on his arm?” “Will you be dancing with the periain? How will that work out, I wonder.” “Do you think you shall meet a lord and fall in love? Wouldn’t that be grand!” 

The comments and questions swirled around us as we sat there like porcelain dolls being preened by daydreaming girls. I understood their amazement only too well. I still could hardly believe it was true. I imagined turning up at the periain’s house only to discover it was all some terrible misunderstanding, or they’d found more appropriate companions for the evening’s festivities. 

The seamstress delivered the altered dresses as we were finishing luncheon. She frowned when she discovered we had eaten since her fitting that morning, as if we had done some ghastly unthinkable thing, but Lady Enora merely laughed. “They may not be working it off, but they’ll still fit in them,” she said cheekily. Isolda, Esti, Marja and I blushed but the other lasses laughed and followed us into the bedchamber to help us into the dresses. 

“Beautiful!” “Stunning!” “That’s a neat fit!” “The ladies had best keep a firm grip on their lords tonight.”

“Can we see?” I asked.

“Of course, Miss Laine,” Lady Enora said and ushered us to the three-sided mirror that stood in the corner. 

I almost didn’t recognize myself, though the change wasn’t so different. My lass had braided my hair, four little braids, two on each side of my head. The two on top started right at the crown, and the two at the bottom started near the ears, and these had silver ribbon weaved into them. She then pulled the braids back to meet at my nape and clipped them with a single butterfly clip that matched my grey eyes. The rest of my raven hair hung straight and unadorned. She had powdered my face and cleaned under my nails and dabbed scented oil on my wrists and behind each ear, why I didn’t know. 

My dress was a white silk with soft blue for the sleeves and down the sides, and plaited into the skirt. White cords wrapped around the sleeves down my arms, both stopping just above my wrists. The bodice was v-shaped, dipping down between my bosom, showing far more than I remembered from my fitting that morning. I blushed and tried to cover myself, but Lady Enora batted my hand away and ordered me to stand taller, pushing my shoulders back.

“Don’t worry about the dresses showing too much cleavage. The Haradrim wear much less than this,” she told me. She added a brooch to the belt at my waist and silver bracelets for my wrists. “You’re a sight to behold, Miss Laine.” My sister and friends agreed.

It was then their turn for their final fittings. Marja’s hair hadn’t been braided as mine had, and instead the top half had been pulled back with a butterfly comb with trailing beads that hung down her back with the rest of her hair. Her dress was the fanciest, I thought, with long lace sleeves of pure white that dropped past her wrists, nearly covering her hands. The dress fit her snuggly, showing off her curves, and a long, wide belt of polished copper plates wrapped around her waist, clipping at the front and hanging down to her feet. A similar, albeit much smaller, necklace hung around her neck, clipping loosely at the base of her throat, the remaining links stopping to just above her bosom. 

“This isn’t too... suggestive?” she asked, looking caught between approving and disapproving.

“It’s just suggestive enough,” Lady Enora said. “Believe me, the other ladies will be much less subtle.”

Esti’s hair was similar to mine, though with three braids on either side instead of two, and they were pulled back on either side by a pair of dove combs. Her dress was scarlet, except for a gold runner that went from her bosom down to her feet. The sleeves  were attached at the sides with gold cords, leaving her shoulders entirely bare. A wide cut of gold lace wrapped around her waist and almost looked to be part of the gold runner on her dress. Lady Enora finished the ensemble with a small golden circlet in Esti’s raven hair.

“You look a portrait, Esti!” I said and everyone agreed.

Isolda’s hair hadn’t been braided either, but was pulled back by a clip similar to mine. She was a few inches taller than me and had been given a dress with a longer train that would have dragged behind me but on her merely pillowed against floor. Her dress was a soft blue, the sleeves ending in a v-shape on the backs of her hands. A fancy silvery design was sewn into the bodice and a silver chord wrapped around her waist, this too hanging to the floor. Lady Enora placed a silver circlet on her head and had her turn around so the skirt billowed out away from her legs in a bell shape.

“You’re a princess!” I said. 

Isolda blushed and twirled again. “I certainly do feel like one.”

“And soon you shall act like one,” Lady Enora said. “To the parlor, ladies, where we shall practice your curtsies. Then I will teach you everything you need to know about dining in high society.”

“What about dancing?” I asked.

Lady Enora laughed. “Just do what everyone else does. You’ll be fine.”




“I don’t think I’ll be fine,” Esti said a few hours later as we made our way up to the fifth circle. We received many curious glances as we walked up the street. Four young women dressed in high fashion walking unescorted is an odd sight. We would have been overlooked entirely in our regular garb, but now people were bowing to us, confusion writ on their faces as they tried to place our faces with a title that refused to come to their minds. 

“Why do you say that?” Marja asked. “You curtsied beautifully and remembered all the social cues for conversation.”

“Social cues for conversation,” Isolda repeated, shaking her head. “It seems so... fake. I much prefer saying what’s on my mind. How does Lady Enora put up with it all?”

“She does because she must,” Marja said, nodding her head to a pair of young men who bowed as we passed. “My neck is going to be sore by the end of the night with all this nodding.”

“It won’t be so tedious once we’re at the ball and introduced. Everyone will go back to treating us as they normally do once they know who we are,” I said, not quite sure if I should be relieved or saddened by this. I found the extra attention both flattering and intimidating. 

“This is it.” 

Marja stopped in front of a two-story house, narrow but quaint, just under the shadow of the Houses of Healing in the circle above. We stood at the gate for a moment, looking at the house. There was nothing to distinguish it as the home of the Fellowship, nothing to indicate that the Ring-bearer lived here. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, truthfully, but this common, unassuming house wasn’t it. 

We waited for Marja to open the gate and we followed her through to the door. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand to the knocker and banged twice. A couple of moments later, the door was answered by none other than the elf, Legolas.

“H-hello,” Marja said, her nerve failing her. She fancied the elf and always rushed out to serve him whenever he came into the tavern. 

Legolas smiled kindly. “Good evening, ladies. May I help you?”

“Is that them?” called Sir Meriadoc’s voice from inside the house. He materialized at Legolas’s side and grinned. “Good evening, ladies. So glad you could make it. Please, come in.”

He bowed and motioned for us to enter, which we did. And there they all were: the Fellowship. Sir Peregrin, Lord Frodo and Lord Samwise, Mithrandir, Gimli and Legolas. There was also a pair of older men, workers clearly and from the dirt under their nails I assumed they were working in the masonry. Another older gentleman was also there. He was refined with a kindly face and stood as tall as his frail body would permit him.

I was so busy looking at everyone else that I nearly missed Sir Meriadoc introduce us. “This is Miss Isolda, Miss Laine, Miss Marja and Miss Esti, the finest and loveliest serving lasses at The Eagle’s Peak Inn.”

We curtsied as Lady Enora had taught us to and we all felt a thrill of pride at performing it perfectly. And then it struck us all at once. This was real. We were here, in the home of the periain, with the Fellowship, and we soon would be on our way to attending a royal ball!  

“Pleased to meet you,” Mithrandir said, looking perplexed as well as amused behind his beard and mustache. “You lads have chosen a most fetching quartet to accompany you. I admit I’m surprised, and thoroughly delighted, by your choices.”

“We only hope that Strider will be also,” Lord Frodo said. He had that same innocent expression his cousins had worn when they invited us. “Shall we go? We don’t want to keep the King waiting to receive his guests.”

“Indeed,” Mithrandir said.

Legolas leaned down and whispered something in Gimli’s ear, to which the dwarf grunted and said, “You and me both, my friend.” With that, he led the way out of the house.

We were only to the gate when Sir Meriadoc glanced at his hands and froze. “My gloves. I’ve forgotten my gloves.”

“Fine time to notice,” Lord Samwise said.

“It’s Frodo’s fault,” Sir Meriadoc said. 

Lord Frodo shook his head. 

“I’ll get them for you, Merry,” Sir Peregrin chirped.

Lord Frodo turned to others and bade them to go ahead of us. “We’ll catch you up once Merry is properly attired,” he said. 

Mithrandir, Gimli and Legolas looked dubious at this announcement but after only a brief pause, they turned and continued to the Citadel with their guests. Legolas leaned down and whispered something else in Gimli’s ear, causing the dwarf to laugh with much mirth.

“You hid my gloves on purpose. You wanted me to see those droppings,” Sir Meriadoc said to Lord Frodo. I was startled to hear the ire in his voice.

Lord Frodo rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. Lord Samwise frowned but also held his tongue. I glanced quickly at my sister and friends, though they clearly had no more understanding of the situation than I did. Lord Frodo saw our curious glances and explained, sounding almost bored, “Merry thinks I’ve hidden a rat in his room.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Sir Meriadoc said, eyeing Lord Frodo with great suspicion. 

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t suspect me of it,” Lord Frodo agreed.

“Merry! They’re not in your drawer!” Sir Peregrin called down to us from a window upstairs.

“That’s because Frodo put them in the wrong drawer, accidentally on purpose,” Sir Meriadoc called back. 

“That’ll be the left drawer, Pip,” Lord Frodo called up, grinning impishly.

Lord Samwise sighed. “We should probably figure out who’s taking who to the dance afore we get there,” he said, indicating us.

“Ah yes,” Sir Meriadoc said, all thoughts of rats forgotten. “I did ask Miss Laine, but I know Pip is fond of her - she always gives him extra pie. So if it’s no offense to you Miss Laine, I shall take Miss Isolda instead.”

“Of course, Sir Meriadoc,” Isolda and I said.

“Please, call me Merry. Just Merry. The ‘Sir’ makes me feel old.”

“As you wish, S-- Merry,” I said, blushing. 

Lord Frodo and Lord Samwise didn’t seem to know how to decide between Marja and Esti, so Marja took charge with swift efficiency. “Esti, the coloring in your gown better compliments Lord Samwise’s attire than it would Lord Frodo’s. I will gladly accompany Lord Frodo, if that pleases you.”

This arrangement pleased the small lords entirely. They repositioned themselves next to Esti and Marja just as Sir Peregrin returned and handed Sir Meriadoc his gloves. “You don’t even wear these past the door,” Sir Peregrin stated.

“No, but we’re expected to at least wear them when we arrive. Don’t ask me why. Big Folk have such strange customs,” Sir Meriadoc said, donning them swiftly. “Shall we? Ladies?”

The periain offered us each an arm, and with that we were off, heading for the Citadel.




Nearly everyone in Minas Tirith has been to the Citadel at one point or another. It was customary to visit the White Tree, dead and withered though it may be, at least once a year. Papa used to take Isolda and myself when we were girls. Every New Year’s Day, we’d get up early so we could finish our chores ahead of time, and then we’d head for the Citadel and the Tower and picnic near the White Tree, pretending there was a shade there to protect us from the sun. When Papa passed on and we went to live with Auntie and Uncle, they started taking us during harvest and we wondered if the White Tree would change its colors. We never ventured beyond the White Tree.

Tonight, on the arms of the periain, we walked past the White Tree with hardly any consideration by our companions and on towards Merethrond. The buildings here were much as they were in the rest of the city, except that many of them were much larger, being the homes of diplomats or the guest quarters for visiting ambassadors. Sir Peregrin pointed out the house where the Haradrim were staying; it stood silent and still, its guests already being in the Hall of Feasts.

“Now remember when we get there,” Sir Meriadoc said, “you’re to flirt with Strider. The more uncomfortable you make him, the better.”

“He deserves no less,” Sir Peregrin said.

“And don’t leave him alone on the dance floor,” Lord Frodo said. “Stick to him like glue. We don’t want him accosted by all the courtesans preening for a chance to flirt with him themselves.”

“Are you really going to tell him this was my idea?” Lord Samwise asked, looking uncomfortable.

“It was your idea,” the three cousins said in unison. 

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Lord Samwise said, blushing deeply.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Sir Meriadoc said, draping an arm around Lord Samwise’s shoulders. “If Strider gave you permission to spy on him, then he can hardly complain about the outcome of that spying.”

“Spying? On the King?” Esti asked. The horror in her voice matched the one in my mind. Marja and Isolda were equally stunned. 

Sir Peregrin considered us for a moment. “Perhaps you ladies could attempt to wrangle some information from Strider for us.”

“No,” Lord Frodo said sternly.

“But... female persuasion and all that,” Sir Peregrin said. “They might be able to get something out of him.”

“No.”

“Besides, if Strider won’t tell us, he’s not going to tell them,” Lord Samwise said.

“Still, he’s telling someone,” Sir Peregrin said, a little pout forming on his bottom lip. “Gandalf must know. And his brothers. Strider’s brothers, that is, not Gandalf’s brothers. So far as I know, Gandalf doesn’t have any brothers. Or maybe they’re all brothers. How does that work, exactly? He’s not doing a very job keeping track of them all. First Saruman, then there’s supposed to be some blue ones out there somewhere.”

“Pardon me,” I said when Sir Peregrin paused for a breath, “but are you always like this?”

“Like what?” Lord Frodo asked.

“So normal and strange,” I said.

“We think we’re normal enough,” Sir Meriadoc said. “Big folk think we’re strange, but we think they’re strange, so it all works out.”

“It was Mr. Merry who took my words and twisted them about,” Lord Samwise said to Lord Frodo.

Lord Frodo smiled gently and patted Lord Samwise’s shoulder. “I know, Sam. Don’t fret. I’ll make sure Strider knows.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo.”

“Now, when you flirt with Strider,” Sir Meriadoc said, apparently having missed this last bit of conversation, “just pretend he’s a regular bloke in the bar. That’s how we met him, you know, in a tavern in Bree. He looked rather seedy and unsavory. He tried to abduct Frodo.”

“He did not,” Lord Frodo said.

“He threatened us with his sword,” Sir Peregrin said.

“He did what?” Marja asked, her hand rising to her chest in alarm.

“Oh, don’t worry. The sword was broken,” Sir Peregrin said. “He was a very good guide, actually. Other than Frodo being stabbed by the Nazgul and nearly becoming a wraith, we made it Rivendell relatively unharmed. Our feet were sore for days afterwards though. Do your feet have little tiny hairs like Boromir’s did?”

“What?” Isolda asked. ‘Our King threatened the periain with a sword and got Lord Frodo stabbed, and Sir Peregrin is asking about our feet?’ is what her tone said.

“Try to be sly,” Sir Meriadoc said, ignoring with ease everything Sir Peregrin had said. “Double entendres, innuendos, bat your eyelashes, flip your hair about, all those things ladies do. Don’t be shy about it.”

Esti bit her bottom lip. “Are you sure we won’t get into trouble for this?”

“We’re sure,” all the periain said as one. 

“And if Strider should get his knickers in a twist about it, Frodo won’t allow anything to happen,” Sir Peregrin added. “Strider owes him one, on account of the stabbing and all.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lord Frodo assured us.

“All right,” we said and tried not to feel too overwhelmed as we made our final approach to Merethrond, where Mithrandir, Legolas, Gimli and their guests were waiting for us outside the large double-door.

We aligned ourselves into pairs and entered the hall in a line. The first thing I noticed was the noise, quickly followed by the press of people all around. Then I looked up and everything else was forgotten. Merethrond was huge, larger than I imagined. It would easily fit my uncle’s house inside, and Marja’s and Esti’s homes along with it, with room to spare. It was tall as well. I craned my neck back, wondering who would be sitting in the balconies and how did they get up there.

My sister tugged on my arm. “There’s no food!” she whispered in my ear. Or rather, she tried to whisper, but with all the noise, she ended up speaking in a loud hiss instead.

I dragged my eyes away from the balconies, the marble columns and the wooden arches in the ceiling to look at the tables lining the walls of the hall. They were draped in silver cloth and there were plates stacked at regular intervals but no food. On the far side of the hall, opposite the stage and the High Table where the King and his court would be sitting during the entertainment, there were three large fires roaring, adding to the heat of the hall, and servants were tending the meat cooking there. My stomach grumbled unhappily at the delicious smells and the empty tables. We would be fed, but it appeared it would not be served right away.    

“Ah, there he is!” Sir Peregrin exclaimed, pointing. 

The periain led us through the crowd. Everywhere we looked there were skirts swishing and coattails flapping, people talking and laughing. I looked down at my feet and could hardly see the floor, there were so many people! What I could see of the floor looked to be marble and highly polished. I hoped I wouldn’t slip on it; I felt clumsy enough in these shoes as it was. 

“Good evening, Strider,” Lord Frodo said suddenly. I looked up to discover we had come to a stop in front of the King and... Prince Imrahil and Lord Faramir were there as well! I swallowed, grateful no one could hear it. Isolda, Esti and Marja looked equally distraught. Surely, the periain wouldn’t expect to flirt with the King in front of the Prince and Steward! Would they?

By Lord Frodo’s innocent grin - and innocent to periain seemed to mean mischief and mayhem for us - the answer was yes. Lord Frodo continued, “We wanted to introduce our companions to you. This is the first time they’ve ever been to a ball and they were most excited to meet you.”

“Scared is more like it, but we promised them you don’t bite,” Sir Peregrin added. 

It seemed to occur to us all that we would soon be expected to perform. What had we agreed to? We giggled nervously, hoping that would mask our horror. “Strider, Faramir, Imrahil, this is the lovely Miss Laine, daughter of Mardin.”

I felt the blush creep up my face and was happy merely to execute a perfect curtsy, especially as my knees felt wobbly and my legs were turning to wet noodles. Then, to my amazement, King Elessar, Prince Imrahil and Lord Faramir bowed in return. “Your servant, Miss,” they said.

Sir Meriadoc introduced Isolda, then Lord Samwise and Lord Frodo introduced Esti and Marja in turn. Marja proved the boldest of us yet again, managing to pry her mouth open to return the greetings. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highnesses,” she said, standing up from her curtsy. And then - my eyes nearly popped out of my head to see it - she lifted her hand palm down towards the King.

King Elessar hardly hesitated at all. He took her hand and pressed his lips to it. Esti sucked in her breath and almost forgot to exhale again.

“The periain have told us so much about you,” Marja continued. “We look forward to getting to know you better.”

At that moment, Sir Peregin cleared his throat and to our great relief, Lord Faramir departed to greet some lord, taking Prince Imrahil with him.

“These lovely ladies work as bar wenches at The Peeking Eagle,” Sir Meriadoc informed the King. “They were worried you would look down on them for that, but we assured them you would not.”

“I have heard many fine things of the establishment,” King Elessar said, smiling kindly. He had a gentle air about him, not surprising really considering the many stories we’ve heard about his exploits in the Houses of Healing. It was blessedly reassuring however. “I had some of the ale delivered for tonight’s festivities. It is a marvelous brew.”

“We only serve it, Your Highness,” said Esti, smiling sweetly. I could see her searching for a flirt, but this was no ordinary man, no matter what the periain said. While a coy comment would flow loosely from her lips at The Peeking Eagle, her mind seemed loathe to think of one now. “Though we are pleased that you enjoy it.”

“Your pleasure is of the utmost importance to us,” purred Marja.

“The ladies have all sorts of questions they wanted to ask you, Strider,” Sir Meriadoc continued. The more I see those innocent smiles of their, the more I’m convinced that is there way of conveying mischief. “I assured them you are a kind and patient King, and you’d be more than willing to give them a good chat and perhaps a dance or two. We leave them in your capable hands.” 

With that the periain departed, leaving us alone with the King. None of seemed to know what to make of the situation. King Elessar was studying us with a keen eye. I’m sure he was aware of what taking place. I could only hope he’d have mercy on us quickly. As for ourselves, what little confidence we’d had while the periain had been here now faded, but we had a duty to perform despite our cowardice. 

“Tell us, Your Majesty, if you will,” said Marja after several moments. “Do you enjoy living in the city? Is it what you imagined?”

“I have been here before, years ago,” the King said, “but it is not entirely as I remember it.”

“For truth, the city is quite banged up,” said Esti, frowning. She had lighted upon a flirt, but at the last moment couldn’t bring herself to utter it.

Isolda patted her arm. “She was one of the first to return after the war. At least when we came back, some of the rubble had been cleared away. But the Gates. That was a shock, seeing them like that.”

“Did you ladies grow up here in the city?” the King asked.

“Only Isolda and I,” I said. Swallowing my pride, I smiled sweetly. “We know all the ways of the city, all the paths and all its secrets.”

“We could give you a tour sometime,” said Isolda in a sultry voice, picking up my cue with ease. “We can show you places no one else knows.”

“That I do not doubt, but I enjoy discovering the ways of the city on my own,” King Elessar said. “It is much like scouting through the wilds and unfamiliar terrain.”

“A very apt description, Your Majesty,” said Marja, batting her eyes. “We’ve heard that you’re a master scout. If there is any man capable of taming our wilds, it would be you.”

The King grinned and huffed a gentle laugh. Our mercy was to be delivered swiftly after all, and before any of us had to flip our hair. “Ladies, I appreciate your interest, but tell me truthfully. Did the hobbits put you up to this?” he asked.

We nodded with great relief. “They did. Are you upset?” Esti asked, worried.

“Only at myself,” he answered. “I suspect they are paying me back for keeping a secret from them. I will be more than glad to share a dance with each of you after the ceremony. For now, there is food and drink aplenty. Eat and enjoy yourselves.”

“Sir Peregrin said you might try to get rid of us,” said Isolda. “He said we were to stick by you no matter what you said. They all say you’re lonely. We’ll keep you company.”

“That is kind, but not necessary.”

“This is a ball, Your Majesty,” said Marja. “You can spend the night with the four of us, or with every other lady in the hall, and all their single daughters.”

“You make a worthy point,” said the King. “In that case, go and find yourselves something to eat and join me at the High Table. You can meet my foster brothers and get a better view of the festivities.”

“You are most generous, Your Majesty,” said Esti. We curtsied, and just then a bell rang. 

A silence fell over the crowd as we turned to the west and looked out the tall windows towards the setting sun. After a few moments’ silence, servants came forth carrying many trays of food and placed them upon the tables. Perhaps it was uncouth, but we were starving, having had nothing to eat since noon, and we quickly stepped up to the nearest table. There were several dishes that we recognized but also several that we did not: Haradrim food. Some of our patrons at the inn had told us about the food and we were quite curious about it. 

“Wait a moment,” said Isolda, looking around the hall at all the lords, ladies and other guests. “Where are the Haradrim?”

We hadn’t even noticed, the hall was so crowded, but she was right. There were no Haradrim here, save for those serving the food, and despite all the talk we’d heard about the savages’ garb, they were clothed quite modestly. Now that I could hear some of the others’ conversations, it was apparent they were wondering the same thing, as well as what exactly had happened to the young lords who had been sent here earlier in the morning with nary a word of explanation as to why they were being beckoned. That was none of our concern though, so we merely shrugged and returned to the matter of our stomachs.

Looking up and down the tables, the variety of food seemed overwhelming at first, until we realized it was the same six dishes in a repeating pattern. There was some sort of rice mixed with cherries and walnuts, and next to this a plate piled high with thin strips of meat on long sticks. The meat was coated with a spicy baste and smelled delightful. The last Haradrim dish the strangest thing we’d ever seen, a bright yellow something the resembled a tangled bit of string more than anything you would eat. Next to these were dishes with which we were more familiar: lemon bars, roasted pork with apple sauce and pasta coated with a tomato-and-cheese paste. 

We pulled our handkerchiefs from our pockets and glanced about. Lady Enora had told us the ladies of the court ate off their special kerchiefs, or doilies, at these high functions, which we could now see for ourselves. All the ladies my eyes landed up were picking up a few small bites at a time and putting these on their doilies, so they could wander off and talk as they nipped at their food. My stomach grumbled, approving of the little kerchief no more than I did.

Isolda stuffed her kerchief back in her pocket and picked up a plate.

“What are you doing?” Esti asked, hope gleaming in her eyes.

“They wouldn’t provide plates if they didn’t expect us to use them,” Isolda reasoned, and in truth, most of the men were making us of them even as she spoke. “Besides, this is likely the only royal function I shall ever attend. I’m eating the food!” 

She started serving a generous spoonful of each dish onto her plate. After only a half-moment’s hesitation, Esti and I joined her. Marja stood there rooted, debating with herself to follow our lead or to continue the charade of a proper courtesan. Finally, her stomach ended the debate for her and we were heading for the High Table with high plates.

King Elessar rose as we approached. The twins were there, one dressed in green and gold, the other in blue and silver. We were introduced to Elrohir and Elladan and we somehow managed to curtsy without spilling our food. We sat as Lord Faramir arrived. Servants materialized at our sides, pouring wine into tall, clear glasses. There was also a cup of some sort of white liquid, which Elladan explained was a yogurt juice that the Haradrim made, as they don’t drink spirits. Strange food and unusual drinks, sitting at the High Table, and being served rather than doing the serving: it was all so overwhelming! 

“Tell us something about yourselves,” Lord Faramir said once we were all introduced and eating.

“Well,” Esti said, hurrying to swallow the bite of rice she’d just eaten. She swallowed and continued. “There isn’t much to tell, in truth. We’re just bar wenches, with no tales of adventures.”

“I would think as barmaids that you’d have quite interesting tales to tell,” Elrohir said. “Do not be modest on our account.”

Elladan nodded encouragingly. “Any gossip you disclose here will not leave this table, I assure you.”

We each took a bite of our food to occupy ourselves as we thought. Or tried to think. The food was so grand and delicious that it was difficult to focus on any thoughts beyond the flavor and aroma of our meal. The Haradrim food was quite exotic, with spice that seemed designed to bring out every possible flavor in the food, heightening it. It also burned our throats after only a few bites, but we quickly discovered that their yogurt juice, an odd and bubbly concoction, lessened the burn considerably.

Once I overcame my distraction with the food, I searched my mind for stories suitable for entertaining the King and his court. Tales we could tell, indeed! Fist fights, bawdy songs, certain lords taking rooms for the night for special guests were just the beginning. 

“Shall I tell you how I first met the Ring-bearer?” King Elessar asked when none of us spoke. “It was in a tavern much the same as the one in which you work.”

Marja nodded. “You tried to abduct him.”

“Then you threatened all of them with your sword,” I said.

“But it was broken,” Isolda added. “Not an effective tool.”

“That could explain how he got Lord Frodo stabbed later,” Esti finished.

King Elessar gaped at us, Lord Faramir tried to hide his laugh by pretending to drink his wine and the twins grinned.

“That sounds like an accurate retelling to me,” Elladan said.

“We told him to take a proper sword, but did he listen?” Elrohir asked.

That loosened the king’s tongue. “I had a proper sword.”

Elladan patted his shoulder, consolingly. “Of course you did, brother.”

King Elessar bit back his response with much effort, which only seemed to please his brothers more. “So ladies,” he said, striving for calm, “any interesting tales?”

“That we can tell?” Esti asked. “There is the one about Marcus, son of Darwin. He used to fight with the Rangers under Lord Boromir years ago until he... well, that’s a different story. Anyway, he was an extravagant man and quite well liked, but he did have a habit for gambling.”

“He wasn’t very good at it,” I said. “He rarely won and when he did, he’d squander it on more betting.”

“He was always in debt,” Isolda said. “He found a quite ingenious way of paying his debtors though.”

As if on cue, we lifted our glasses as one and sipped long, drawing out the reveal. When King Elessar and his brothers leaned forward, we put our glasses down and exchanged looks meant to convey unease. Lord Faramir simply sat back and waited eagerly.

“He had an uncanny ability to imitate Lord Denethor,” Marja said, “so he would dress up in the Steward’s robes-”

“Which he got from Lord Boromir,” Esti added.

“-and he’d wait until it was dark so that no one could get too close a look at him. Then he’d sneak up on the folk he owed money to and demand that they empty out their pockets because they hadn’t paid their due taxes to the city. Then the following day, he would pay those folk back with the very money they gave him the night before!”

“How long did he get away with that stunt?” King Elessar asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not for as long as he would have hoped, a few days perhaps,” I said. “Lord Denethor found out what he was doing and ordered him to return his robes and repay his debts honestly. All his soldier wages were forwarded to his debtors, and with no coin to wager, he couldn’t accrue new debts.”

“Father had wanted to throw him in the stocks,” Lord Faramir said, “but Boromir convinced him otherwise. He said it would be more productive if Marcus were to repay his debts. Seeing as it was Boromir who gave Marcus the robe in the first place, Boromir insisted that if Marcus were to be put in the stocks, then Father must put Boromir there as well.”

“I hadn’t heard that before,” Esti said, “though I’m not surprised. Your brother was most noble.”

“My Lord,” Isolda said. “You said earlier that you had been here before. I do not recall ever hearing such a tale.”

“I used a different name,” King Elessar said. “I was known then as Thorongil.”

“Thorongil. I’ve heard stories of him,” I said, “but that was during Lord Ecthelion’s time.” My cheeks flushed with heat and I hurriedly drank more wine to keep myself from saying anything more. To think, I had nearly called the King old!

“Would you be so kind as to indulge us with some tales of your journeys, Your Highness?” Marja asked. “Did you really threaten the periain with a broken sword?”

For the next two hours, we shared tales of every sort, from childhood misadventures to the conflicts we endured during the war. King Elessar told us many humorous tales of his years growing up in Rivendell, his brothers adding details now and then. The table was often visited by the other lords and ladies in attendance, and when we finished the food on our plates, the servants came without beckoning to take them away or to offer to bring us more food. 

The sun had set and the sky outside was black by the time the Haradrim arrived in grand fashion. The great doors swung open and they filed into the hall in a double line that seemed never to end. The lords and ladies on the floor moved to the edges to make room for them in the middle of the hall, and once they were all inside, the doors were closed and half the candles were extinguished, plunging the hall into semi-darkness, making the red embers of the cooking pits more noticeable. The Haradrim court filed onto the stage and joined us at the High Table. The Haradrim king and queen bowed to King Elessar, who rose and bowed to them in turn. 

Left on the floor were the Haradrim musicians and dancers, seven men and seven maids. They formed two circles, with the musicians sitting on pillows on the inside circle, and the dancers standing on the outside.

The maids wore dance dresses with long, wide sleeves and skirts. Six of the dresses alternated between burgundy and sky blue, and one maid wore a dress of red-orange. Wide trim of white lace decorated the hems and white lace was sewn into strange patterns up the sleeves and skirts. The bodice was a block of fabric, a shade darker than the dress, with lace and beads embroidered in four sections of square or chevron patterns. Over their heads were scarves matching their dresses, held in place by beaded circlets, and their feet were bare. 

The men, who turned out to be none other than the seven young lords of Gondor and Rohan, all wore beige kilts down to their knees, decorated with a simple belt, beaded the same as the ladies’ scarves. They wore closed vests that matched the patterns and colors on the ladies’ dresses, and tribal paint decorated their arms, legs and shaved heads. They stood in a line behind the ladies, waiting for the music to begin. 

A quiet buzz started around the edges of the hall as people realized who the seven men were, and it nearly drowned out the opening notes of the song. The instruments were similar to those the court minstrels played, drums, fifes and lutes, but the sounds were odd and the rhythms unlike anything I’d ever heard before. The music reached through you into your soul, grabbing your heart and your throat, gentle but insistent. I leaned forward as the dance began.

And what a dance it was! I couldn’t begin to describe it in any coherent fashion, but it was sensual and sad and triumphant all at the same time. The ladies would dance around the men, then the men around the ladies, getting within a whisper of each other but never touching. With the musicians a steady circle in the center, the dancers seemed to almost form patterns around them, a star or a square or half circles. The dance told the tale of life, death and rebirth, the intricate music a hypnotic pulse from start to finish. I sat there at the High Table of the Court, but through the performance, I was transferred to the dry lands of Far Harad, under the blazing sun and swirling winds. 

The dance ended and the hall erupted in applause. Esti and I jumped to our feet, the others rising more elegantly after us. The performers took their bows in their strange custom, lowering to the floor, their heads on the back of their hands. They rose and joined us at the High Table. More introductions came, and the young lords of Gondor and Rohan sat with the Haradrim, for the evening a part of their court. 

A few minutes later, the Fellowship joined us as the court minstrels took the stage and began to play.

Sir Peregrin lifted his chin in the direction of the minstrels. That was all the prompting the other periain needed. “So, don’t you owe these ladies a dance?” they asked in unison.

“I do, but first they wish to dance with you,” said King Elessar, an easy grin lighting his face. “They are your guests after all, and they don’t mind about the height difference.”

Taking the cue our King gave us, we rose to our feet and joined the periain. Lord Samwise looked up at us and sighed, a shy blush creeping up his neck to color his face. “I knew this was a bad idea,” he muttered but gamely led Esti down to the dance floor, the rest of us following behind.

The first song was a step dance. We followed Lady Enora’s advice to do as everyone else was doing and managed to keep up with little issue. The next dance brought the periain to a pause and no wonder. Lords were lifting ladies in half spins and twirls, a feat they could not achieve. Lord Frodo had a thought and asked, “Would you like to learn the Springle-ring?”

“What is that?” Marja asked, and the next thing we knew, we were off to the side learning a Shire dance. It was quite vigorous, with too many steps to keep track. We kept forgetting ourselves or turning the wrong directions, bumping into each other. It was quite marvelous! By the time we had it learned correctly, a couple dozen other pairs we watching us and a dozen more were attempting the steps.

Lords Frodo and Samwise tired after that and returned to the High Table, but Sirs Peregrin and Meriadoc happily taught us many more dances. To our delight, King Elessar, Elrohir, Elladan and Lord Faramir soon joined us to learn the dances themselves, pairing with my friends and myself in turns. The King did prove to be quite a fair dancer indeed, learning the moves with ease. Once Sirs Peregrin and Meriadoc finished their lessons, the King and his court led us out to the dance floor for more merriment. We danced so long my feet soon tired, but I was enjoying myself too much to sit down. 

The hours passed without us being aware. At times a young courtesan would attempt to whisk King Elessar away from us, but no matter which one of us was dancing with him, we pretended not to notice her and turned the King away before she could even utter a sound. We could afford to be rude; it was unlikely any of those ladies would recognize us once we were back in our normal garb. At one point, we saw Lady Enora. She winked at us and smiled slyly, highly amused to see us keeping company with the King and steward. We even got to dance with Prince Imrahil, and once they’d had their fill, the periain rejoined us for the dances that they could perform.

The ball ended at one, by which time we were back at the High Table, eating more of the marvelous food and sating our thirst with the ale. King Elessar gave a closing speech, short and simple, to end the evening. We waited as the press of bodies streamed through the doors, making us among the last to leave. We had been well while sitting, but once we were on our feet again we all at once noticed our aches and tiredness. We made our curtsies, and the King bowed to us each, taking our hands for a quick press.

“Ladies, I thank you for a marvelous evening,” he said, sincerity in his words and eyes.

“We thank thee for your generosity, Your Majesty,” we said and curtsied.

Walking back to the Fellowship’s house, the air was chill and a relief to our heated faces. We breathed deeply the scent of the sea, carried to us by gracious winds. We were all chattering to each other about our night, and the periain told us of what the Rohirrim lord had said regarding his involvement with the dance, which apparently was some ritual to join Harad and Gondor in alliance. 

We reached the house on the fifth circle. Lord Frodo looked up at us, worried. “We should escort them to their homes,” he said.

“I shall take them,” Legolas volunteered. “You are tired and I am not. I will see them safely to their homes.”

So we took our leave of the periain, Gimli and Mithrandir with more curtsies and bows.

“We had a fine time.”

“Thank you so much for inviting us.”

“We enjoyed the dances.”

“And such marvelous food!”

“Thank you, ladies, for accompanying us,” Sir Meriadoc said.

“Did Strider happen to mention any secrets to you while you were dancing?” Sir Peregrin asked hopefully.

“Pippin,” Lord Frodo said, stern but amused. “Good night, fair ladies. I haven’t had this much fun in months.”

“Aye. If you weren’t so tall, you could pass for hobbits,” Lord Samwise said, a high compliment indeed.

Several more good-nights and farewells followed before we were finally on our way. Somehow, Marja managed to arrange it that Esti, Isolda and I were brought to our homes first, giving her more time with the handsome elf. We took Esti to her home, then Isolda and I led the way to our uncle’s house. We waved from the threshold, then closed the door. 

Isolda and I fell upon our beds as soon as we reached our room, not even bothering to light a lamp. The shutters were open, letting in the moonlight, soft and silver. Isolda lay back, drew her feet up, slipped off the shoes and started rubbing her soles. I was humming the chords of the last song that had been sung, my eyes closed, pretending I was still in the Great Hall dancing with Lord Faramir. 

“We should take our dresses off,” Isolda said, already sounding half asleep.

“We do need to take them back to Lady Enora.”

“I doubt she needs them back right away though.”

“Hmm...” I yawned, opened my eyes and turned to look at my sister. “Do you think we’ll ever have another night to equal this one?”

“Not unless we’re invited to another ball. I wonder what it’s like for them.”

“Who?”

“The Haradrim maids. They’re slaves but...” I think she must have dozed for a moment because she shook her head with a sudden jerk and struggled to sit up. “What was I saying?”

“Hmm...” Humming was easier than forming words. 

“You’re right.” Isolda tugged on my hand. I hadn’t even heard her get up. “Come on. We don’t want to wrinkle Lady Enora’s fine dresses.”

I forced myself up and we helped each other undress, fingers fumbling over buttons as we swayed on tired legs. “We didn’t meet any young lords to fall in love with us,” I said. “I suppose it’ll be The Peeking Eagle for us tomorrow night.”

“That’s their loss,” Isolda said, stepping out of her dress. She didn’t bother with finding her nightgown, but slipped under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. I followed her example after hanging the dresses on their hangers.

“Isolda?”

“Hmm?”

“I’d rather be a barmaid.”

“Hmm... Two pints and a pence.”

I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the music and voices of the Great Hall ringing in my ears. 





The end.





GF 12/3/11





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