[piosenniel]

Sophia’s post:

Síriel pushed through the crowd excitedly, weaving in, out, and around the finely dressed men and women who had come to welcome her brother’s future wife. A rather harried looking man in Gondorian military uniform followed in her wake, holding a turquoise feathered fan in one hand.
Reaching her goal, Síriel reached eagerly for her sister’s hand. Tíriel reached out and grasped her hand with a glad cry. “Ah, Sister, what a happy day!” she exclaimed. Síriel held her sister at arms length to look at her. Cream was a very flattering color on Tíriel, the floor length gown and elbow gloves accentuating her dark hair and large blue eyes. A white stone gleamed at her throat and her hair was loose down her back.

“Sister, you are beautiful!” Síriel exclaimed. Her husband seemed to agree, refusing to relinquish Tíriel’s other hand.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Tíriel responded wistfully. Síriel knew she looked especially good that day, she’s chosen her clothing carefully, intending to put every woman in the room to shame. Her long gown was a brilliant turquoise and her long dark hair was twisted up on her head, glimmering with silver pins. So far, she hadn’t seen any real competition. She was anxious to meet this Finduilas that Denethor was to marry, anxious to prove that though she was yet unmarried, she was no old maid.

A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, shaking her abruptly from her thoughts. Spinning, Síriel saw Feredir, her escort, standing behind her with a rather red face and her fan clutched tightly in one hand. She took the fan from him, holding it just under her eyes to mask a grin at his expense. Tíriel, who noticed her furtive sport smiled extra nicely at Feredir. “I see you’ve brought a handsome young man from our navy with you, Síriel,” she commented playfully.

“Oh yes, Feredir’s a gem.” Síriel assured her sister. “He’s done nothing all day but run about after anything I’ve wanted, have you Feredir?” She turned her grey eyes on him and he nodded politely. Tíriel’s eyes widened.

“All day?” she asked, in mock surprise. Feredir nodded. “Well you must be positively exhausted. My sister can be impossible to please.” Síriel’s cheerful face took on the look of one grievously wronged. Tíriel nudged her playfully. “Why don’t you go on with Gaerlin now and have some drinks?” she asked, pushing her reluctant husband forward with one hand. “Have some ‘man-talk’.” Síriel giggled at this, and a look of intense relief came over the face of the unlucky Feredir. The two men departed in the direction of the bar and Síriel slumped with relief.

“My land, Tír, that man is such a bore.” She gasped. “I’ve simply run him off his feet all day, to keep from having to talk to him!”

“Oh, but so very good looking!” her sister exclaimed, with a sly grin. “I know you, Sister, can’t stand to be shown up.” Síriel blushed to a shade of red that most tomatoes would envy and turned her attention to straightening the feathers on her fan.

“Well, I simply must look good in front of Denethor’s new bride.” She whined, touching her hairstyle lightly to be sure all was still in place. Tíriel rolled her eyes at her younger sister’s vanity and scanned the room.

“Well, Sister,” she said as her sharp eyes spotted a group of nervous young women entering the hall. “It seems your escape is short lived, I think the group from Dol Amroth has arrived. I should find Gaerlin.” Síriel squealed with delight.

“Do you see Finduilas?” she clamored in Tíriel’s ear, “is she pretty? Is she good enough for our Little Brother?” Tíriel swatted her sister in irritation that was only half pretended.

“How am I to know which one she is? Really, Síriel, do try to act like an adult.” Síriel drew herself up to her full height and attempted to look serene and mature. Tíriel shot her an approving glance, as Gaerlin and Feredir rejoined them. Linking arms with their respective escorts the Steward’s daughters made their way over to where their father, Ecthelion stood. The whole family should greet this new addition together.
From where they stood at the far end of the hall they watched Finduilas come up the line, greeting every man and every maiden alike, down to the lowest. Tíriel smiled with admiration for this woman. She remembered the time before her own wedding, the nerves and the tiredness. Finduilas, she judged, would make a fine wife for her brother.

Síriel too was watching Finduilas’ progress across the room. She was indeed as lovely as they said, and so young. Síriel felt a small twinge of jealousy at this thought. She shoved it out of her mind as the girl approached them.

Finduilas held one small hand out to each of them. “And you will be my new sisters,” she said softly. Tíriel smiled at her as they nodded.

“I am Síriel.” The younger of the two said brightly, “and this is Tíriel, my sister, and her husband, Gaerlin.” Feredir coughed from behind her. “And Feredir of Pelargir. He is in the Gondorian Navy.” She added, as an afterthought. Finduilas smiled at this introduction, but remained disconcertingly silent. Feredir’s hands moved back to Síriel’s shoulders, and she shrugged with irritation. His hands refused to be dislodged. Síriel almost didn’t mind, as his possessive touch gave her something else to think about during this awkward silence.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]