Diorwyn rubbed her sore fingertips with a sigh. The past two days had been the busiest she had experienced since coming to the White City. She had prepared gowns for the wedding and various festivities while they were still in Dol Amroth, but since the invitation to a masked ball had come unexpectedly, she had needed to improvise costumes for the Princesses at least. And she couldn’t say “no” to the others who had asked for her assistance as well.
Gwinniel had not been able to help, for her seamstresses were equally busy sewing costumes for the ladies of Minas Tirith. Fortunately, several of the maids could ply needles well enough for the plain seams, so that she could concentrate on the delicate details. Tessa’s costume looked very nice, but she was proudest of the butterfly dress for Finduilas. Gauzy, colourful fabrics fluttered as wings without hindering her movements.
Unfortunately, she had been so busy that she had not been able to talk to her friends in the city about the rumours that were becoming increasingly persistent. She debated with herself over the respective merits of finally getting some rest after very short nights, or seeing the ball and especially the costumed guests there. Professional curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to take a peek from one of the adjacent rooms before going to sleep. Throwing a light cloak over her simple dress, she walked to the ballroom.
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'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The whole history of Middle-earth.. .'
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