[JennyHallu]

"Does anything catch your interest?"

Lin blushed, looking at the glittering gems sparkling in Degas' hands to avoid meeting his eyes. "They're all beautiful," she murmured. "Something like this, though--this would reflect the color of your sister's hair and bring the warmth out of her skin." She held up a slim golden chain with a delicate pendant of rubies and filagree sparkling in the bright spring sunlight. "The red is a good color for her."

Lin was a trifle confused. For the last few minutes, as they'd wandered out of hearing distance of the flautist, Degas had seemed a little...detached, perhaps? Like his thoughts were elsewhere. The old musician had had a young girl dancing for him, a pretty enough lass...Lin's thoughts turned to Saeryn's stories of her brother: a bit wild, and somewhat of a womanizer, however gentlemanly he seemed to her now. Had he noticed the dancer? Was that what he was thinking about now, that disturbed his fascination with her so much? Lin wracked her brain, trying to call up details about the girl she'd dismissed earlier, sure that her hold on Degas' heartstrings was firm. A whirl of golden hair, flirtatious blue eyes, a voluptuous, supple body that enticed the men watching her with glimpses of white skin and athletic movement. There was no way Degas wouldn't have noticed her.

Would he try to find the lass before the fair was out? She was barely able to resist his charm...the dancer would think him a fine conquest. Lin was sure that Degas had forgotten all about her, and she turned away silently, trying not to show her hurt. Degas was bent over the jewelry, Lèoðern's little hand held firmly in his large one. Lèoðern was fine, Lin didn't need to help watch her.

Lin wandered off towards the next booth, brooding, the threat of angry tears hiding in her eyes, trying to destroy her enjoyment of the day. She recovered a little of her good cheer a few booths further, where she sifted through a pile of fine-crafted toys and bought a cloth doll with a finely carved wooden head and hands and a delicate painted face. Lèoðern would love it, and Lin tried to push her jealousy aside in anticipation of the child's excited face when she presented her with the toy later. She began to make plans of little dresses she could make from fabric salvaged from the green dress she'd been wearing when the wall collapsed, and continued to wander through the booths, admiring flowers and fabrics, buying herself a few girlish silk ribbons and yards of soft and fine navy blue cotton fabric and silver thread, thinking of the lovely dress she could make from it.

She stopped, finally, at a booth selling weaponry, looking over the selection of steel blades. Her father had taught her how to select a good knife when she'd come to him once asking advice for a gift for her brothers, and she began to cheerfully test the balance of a collection of small daggers laid out on the tabletop. The merchant, a bulky, bearded man Lin immediately pegged as not just the seller of the blades but also the smith, appeared almost magically in front of her, quickly and expertly homing in on a customer who was clearly lacking neither knowledge nor coin. Politely, he took the simple blade she had been examining from her fingers.

"My lady," he greeted her. "Surely ye don't require such things for y'self?"

Lin looked up at him, startled, but quickly recovered. "No, Master Smith, but as a gift for a friend."

The man nodded confirmation of her assessment of his role. "But what sort of friend, Lady? A father or a brother? A lover mayhap?"

Lin flashed the man a cold look. "You are too forward, goodman. But...I suppose he would be a suitor, more than anything else. I hope."

"Sorry, Lady. My apologies. I let me mouth run away with me brain, sometimes. Now wait..." He paused, looking at her carefully. "Ye're that cousin of the Queen, Linduial from Dol Amroth or some sech place, bain't ye, Lady? If ye don't mind me askin'?"

Lin nodded acknowledgement, and the man leaned down, rummaging under the table on which he'd displayed his goods.

"Now, Lady, it's a right honor to meet ye. There's some as don't like the Queen so much, her being a furriner an' all, but ye'll never hear me be called one o' 'em. She's a right fine lady, beggin' your pardon." He straightened up, lifting easily a heavy box. "But this be me first year to the Fair, see? I've got a name to build up, and I must have some good tales to bring home to my good wife. Selling a blade to the cousin of the Queen, now that's something to build a reputation on, right there, if ye take me meanin'. But none of those common things for a fine Lady like ye be, even if ye're just goin' to give it to a lad who bain't be deservin' of sech a lovely Lady."

The smith paused for a moment, lifting lthe lid, and pulling out five knives, and five daggers. Lin instantly could see that these were of a finer quality than any else he had displayed, and the pride the man had in them was evident. One in particular caught her eye, and she lifted it in her hands. The ivory handle was inlaid with silver and fine stones in a careful geometric pattern, smooth in her hand, though clearly designed for more mannish fingers. The double-edged blade, eight inches long, was of folded steel, catching the light in random patterns skittering across the surface. It was razor sharp and perfectly balanced, and the smith sighed when it became clear that this was the one that most interested her.

"Ach, Lady, ye have good taste. That's me masterwork, there."

"It's beautiful. How much?"

He named a figure and Lin paid it without blinking, high though it was. It took almost all the coin she had left in her purse, and she turned to return to Degas and Lèoðern.

They were nowhere to be seen. Lin knew she had wandered away while she shopped, but...she tried to retrace her steps, but soon became aware that she was lost and alone, and a little frightened. Get back to the Hall! she told herself. You're lost, and that way people can find you!

She pushed her way through the crowds, but her charmed passage earlier was only a memory. Men were entering the fair, not leaving it, and while she made it, against a strong current, into the city, she soon found herself forced into an area she was not familiar with. The men near her leered at her rudely, and a few even tried to reach out to touch her, though she pushed herself away from them in terror quickly approaching panic. She became increasingly aware of how well she was dressed, of the delicate jewelry she wore without ever thinking about it, the noble carriage that usually served her so well. She didn't have the experience to realize that was all that kept her safe was that unconscious bearing.

Finally she saw a man walking towards her who was well-dressed, and had the same air of command she associated with the nobility. She ran to him in tears, gasping out her story and her fear. The man didn't introduce himself, but repeated her own name back to her.

"Linduial? Of Dol Amroth?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You poor woman," he said, taking her elbow and leading her off the street. "It is so fortunate you thought to speak to me. Very fortunate." He made a gesture to someone behind her, and Lin suddenly picked up on a tone of insincerity in his voice.

With a scream, she whirled around, the blade she'd bought for Degas somehow making its way into her hand. She swung it wildly, and was both gratified and sickened to hear one of the three men advancing on her curse in pain, and see the flash of blood on her knife, before a blow from behind knocked her to the ground, unaware of her surroundings.

"Pity, Lady." The man she'd gone to for help stood over her body, signalling his men to lift her and her basket. "Not very gentlemanly, having to knock you out."

The men asked what they were to do with her things, and their leader told them to leave them and her be. "Carry her to our lodging, boys...and don't nick anything, not even that pretty knife. She's cousin to the Queen, boys. We'll be able to buy as many knives like that as we wish, with her ransom, and then we'll return her with all her things, safe and sound."

He chuckled. "More or less."