It was a full half-hour before the King arrived, and for the last five minutes of that time, Heledir had seriously considered just leaving the matter for another day.  But all of his glorious planning should hardly go to waste just because somebody else was unreliable.  Too often it did.

He was just about to turn back, ruminating on the disappointment that the new King had turned out to be, when the herald came out, looking uncharacteristically ruddy, and announced that the King would be entering the audience chamber shortly.

“He bids me tell you that he apologizes for the delay, but that the reason for said delay will become apparent at his arrival.  He also bids you not be alarmed, nor believe that he cannot adjudge your cases fairly, should he appear at all unusual to your eyes.”

No doubt the herald was quite new to his more domestic position, or else he would have acted more professionally, Heledir reflected.  There was nothing that would be made public which would elicit any emotion in a properly trained—

“Unusual” was an understatement.  The herald’s words had barely grazed his consciousness, since all that had really concerned Heledir was the fact that the King was supposed to be holding an audience.  Now they returned to him, as the words of a cryptic prophecy will when fulfilled, and he forgave himself any judgment he had made against the herald and his lack of composure.

His majesty the King Elessar was wearing a dress.  Not only was it a dress, it was obviously a dress, designed for a woman’s body.  And somehow, it had been made to fit, from the cinching around the waist to the extra room for the chest that implied a considerable bosom.

It was disturbing.

“If the first case would please come forward,” said the King.

Heledir scanned the entire room to see if anyone else had noticed that His Majesty was in a gown, or if his own reason had simply decided to desert him for the day.  But no, the same confusion that currently gripped him had spread to the other supplicants—the same shifting of feet and eyes.  One citizen’s eyes strayed to the doors of the Hall, but he did not flee.

No one moved.

Heledir felt his shoulder being tapped.  “Sir?” whispered the malefactor he had brought along to be judged.  “Is the King in a dre—”

“Silence!” he hissed.  But it was too late.  He felt, rather than saw, the keen gaze of the King rest upon him.  Knowing he could not escape it, he walked forward and knelt before the dais.

“My lord King,” he said, trying not to splutter as he studied the fine embroidery on the golden slippers that adorned the King’s feet, “my name is Heledir, son of Emlin.  I am but a simple merchant, who sells the leathern wares made by the tanners on the Pelennor to the folk of the city.  For a week past my business has been obstructed by this beggar”—here he gestured to the child behind him—“who has both kept customers from entering the shop through her failures and curtailed their buying power through her successes.”

The King looked down at him through eyes that had been rendered more expressive through the artifice of charcoal skillfully, lightly, shaded about the lids.  They were currently expressing nothing, except perhaps a slight exuding of general kingliness.  Heledir marveled that His Majesty could pull it off.  “We empathize with your concerns, Heledir, son of Emlin; however, as we are certain you are well aware, begging has long been a last and legal recourse to the poorest of the poor of this city.  Is there some other grievance that you wish to be addressed?”

“Well, my lord, I am aware that begging in general is permitted by law in Minas Tirith, but we merchants have long held in memory another law, ancient and long disregarded, that limits its practice.  I know full well that I could not come before you with an ordinary beggar and expect any succor from you, O King, but this is a girl.  She should not be making her living in the streets.”

“Do you mean to say that there is a law prohibiting women and girls from begging in the White City?”

“Aye, my lord, and it dates from the time of the Kings.  It is but a rumor among us, of course, for the law was not enforced in the time of the Stewards and there was no one in the City to go to for aid.  Perhaps it never existed.”

The King nodded, then looked at the girl who had hitherto stood with bowed head at a respectful distance.  “Come forward,” he said.  “What is your name?  Speak clearly so that all may hear.”

“Míriel, my lord,” said the girl, not daring to meet the King’s gaze.

“Look at me.  How old are you?”

She lifted her head; Heledir assumed that His Majesty was judging through her eyes the truth of her story.  “Twelve, my lord.”

“Where are your parents?”

“My mother died when I was four, my lord.  My father was killed before the Black Gate.”

“Have you no relatives in the City?”

“No, my lord.  My parents moved here from the Morthond Vale; my nearest family resides there.  My father had told me to seek them out, should the worst happen, but by the time I learned of his passing the soldiers from that area had already left.  Our home was on the first circle and was destroyed by the blasting fires, along with most of what we owned.  I would employ myself as a maid, but there are so many other children that have been orphaned by the war, and so few people to hire them, that I have had no success.”

The King spent a few moments in thought.  “Then, young Míriel, in gratitude for your father’s sacrifice to Gondor, the least the royal crown can do is see to it that his wishes toward you are fulfilled.  We will secure and pay for a place for you on the next caravan leading to Morthond, as well as send word to your kin of your current situation, and until that time you may be considered a ward of the City and Crown.

“As for you, Master Heledir, you have brought to our attention something which had hitherto escaped our notice, and we will see if there is any mention of this law you speak of in the records.”

“Thank you very much, my lord,” said Heledir.  “I assure you that as soon as this one goes another will take her place.”

“Return tomorrow, and we shall settle on how best to deal with the law.”

Heledir bowed and took his leave.

The girl lingered.  “My lord?” she said, very faintly.  “Why are you in a dress?”

His response was just as quiet.  “I am in a dress because the Queen wished to test the limits of my love for her, and my love for her has no limits.”

Elessar heard sundry other cases for two more hours, and slowly news of his strange attire began to circulate through the city.  Rumors took their course, and were wildly blown out of proportion, but the one person who had asked why told the truth.  Thus it was that word was spread that the King was wearing a dress for love of his bride.