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Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 10 Stirring

For Aranxia, Caras Galadhon was both more and less than she had expected it to be. It was enormous, many times the size of Tor Karad, possibly the size of both Wing Haven and Wing Hove together – including the land between the city and the town. The people were fantastic – so diverse that never in a thousand years could she ever have imagined it all. She knew that there was a limited number of races, though exactly how many that was she had to ask someone else. In Caras Galadhon there were mixes of every type imaginable, and the races were so mixed that there were people with a little of every race in them! In fact, it was the purebloods who were hardest to find here. And there was so much to see, so much to learn, that Aranxia was sure that if she stayed here a hundred years she could never see or learn it all.

On the other hand … things were not quite what she had expected. She had more or less expected that River and Jess would spend their time together, but with them staying with Luk instead of in the city she hadn’t even seen them since they’d arrived. Miyuki was busy doing her own thing, and she hadn’t seen Amalirahc even once. She was staying with Lancaeriel and Wren in the inn, but they also were doing their own thing. So while she was enjoying the city … she did feel awfully alone.

Still, it did give her lots of time to paint – and paint she did. It was their third day there, and she was on her eighth canvas. She had painted each one at a different place in the city, and now she was on her way to her next destination: the beach.

It was still early morning, but she wanted to get to the beach before people started to get too active. She preferred calm and quiet when she worked, and even though she was on her own, the crowds were more than she was used to. She’d also seen Naida with some girls – identical, they must be twins, she was sure – and she wanted to do a picture of the three of them together, if she could.

She set her easel up in the sand and prepped her palette and took only a few short minutes to decide exactly what she would paint. Naida and the two blue-haired girls were nowhere in sight at the moment, so she would paint them later; for now, she would do a simple sunrise over the ocean. Water was always challenging, and that would be enough to warm her up for other ocean paintings later on.

She had been painting a while already when people began to stir around her, leaving their homes and heading off to work. Several of them stopped to watch her for a few moments as they passed, but no one spoke to her, leaving her alone with her work, and while for the most part Aranxia didn’t mind, there was a part of her that wished that someone would at least say good morning.

By the time the sun was too high in the sky for her to accurately replicate the colours of the ocean at dawn, no one had spoken to her, and she packed up her things silently and returned to the inn.

The following day, she was there again, and once more people watched her and left her alone.

On the next morning, Valenya, there were fewer people out, as many people had the day off, and only a few of them stopped to watch Aranxia at all. By this time, she had grown so used to them being there and having nothing really to do with her that she didn’t notice when people came or when the left or how long they stayed there. It was also the day that she finally finished the painting, and, as the sun once again drew too high in the sky for the painting, she lowered her palette and smiled at the finished product.

“It’s beautiful,” came a voice from behind her. She was so startled that she dropped her brush in the sand, though thankfully her thumb was through the hole in her palette and saved her paints from a similar fate. Blushing hotly, she turned to see a young man behind her. He had long, blue-green hair pulled back in a ponytail behind his back, and his eyes, a watery teal, were filled with chagrin, and matched the robes that he was wearing. He grimaced and knelt down to pick up the brush that Aranxia had dropped.

“Sorry about that,” he said, holding it out to her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s – it’s all right,” Aranxia murmured in reply, taking the brush and cleaning it off with one hand. “I just – I’ve been here three days and no one’s spoken to me before … I didn’t think anyone would …”

“Really?” The young man seemed surprised. “I mean – I’ve been watching, I … I just thought … well, we all thought … you wouldn’t want to be disturbed …”

Aranxia blushed and giggled. “So I don’t need to feel like an outcast?” she asked him, only half joking.

Her comment seemed to alarm the young man. “No!” he exclaimed, the pale skin of his face reddening. “No, not at all! Please, we wish you to feel welcome here!”

Aranxia smiled and began to clean up her paints. “Thank you. It just … seems odd. This is our fifth day here, and you’re really the first one to talk to me, other than a shopkeeper.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said softly, his eyes downcast. For a moment, he was quiet, as if he was trying to think of what to say, and then he asked, “So … I know this must be obvious, but … you’re new here?”

Aranxia nodded as she began to pack things away. “Yes … well, as I said, we arrived five days ago.”

“And … where are you from?” he asked, watching as she cleaned up.

“Elven Southland, in the Four Lands,” she replied, still working. “We’re here on a visit.”

“Not to stay?” He seemed surprised.

Aranxia stopped cleaning up and blinked at him. “Stay?”

He nodded. “Usually, once people come here, they stay,” he explained. “Of course, most of them don’t have a choice. Are people of mixed marriages accepted in your homeland, then?”

Aranxia wasn’t sure whether mixed marriages were really approved of in the Southland now or not – she had a feeling not so much, considering the Eastland was the place where people in mixed marriages tended to settle – but she was also slightly bemused by his implication.

“I am not married,” she told him with an amused smile, “to anyone. Not of Dark Elven blood, or otherwise. Nor do I have hopes to be so anytime soon.”

“Really?” The man was surprised again.

Aranxia tilted her head slightly. “No … though I think I must remind you, sir, that we are strangers …”

“Oh, yes!” The man chuckled sheepishly and bowed his head. “Aennan, at your service. Scribe and assistant librarian.”

Aranxia returned a curtsey for the bow. “Princess Aranxia Aldrich. Painter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aennan.” She smiled warmly at him before turning to pack up her things again.

“Painter?” Aennan repeated. “You make yourself sound like a person who paints houses. Artist, I believe, should be your title.”

Aranxia smiled and blushed, closing up her bag tightly. She slung it onto her back before she took her painting from the easel so that she could close it for carrying.

“May I carry that for you?” Aennan asked, holding out one hand in offering.

“You’re certain?” Aranxia asked anxiously. “Don’t you have to be on your way to the library?”

The young man smiled and shook his head. “No, not today. Valenya is my day off. Please, I’ve been excluding you all week, let me help you now.”

“Thank you.” Aranxia smiled widely. She passed him the easel and took the still-wet painting in her own hands. “I’m staying at the inn. The Rose in Bloom.”

“A lovely choice,” Aennan assured her. “And please forgive me if I am being too forward, but … may I ask, what are your plans for this afternoon?”

Aranxia arched one eyebrow. “I have none at the moment, though if I’m correct in assuming that you, like the other people of this city, are here out of necessity rather than by choice, do you not have a family of your own waiting for you on this, your day off of work?”

The man laughed aloud. “Touché. No, I don’t have anyone waiting for me. I was orphaned young, and my elder brother married a human from the country neighbouring ours, so when the two of them moved here they took me with them. I just got my own home recently, so no, no one will be waiting for me.”

He smiled. “And since neither of us has anyone expecting us, would you like a tour of our city? Consider it an apology for having caused you to feel so alone these past several days.”

Aranxia laughed softly. “It really isn’t necessary, especially as an apology,” she assured him with a warm smile, “but if it really is no trouble for you, then yes, I accept.”

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 18 Stirring

Aennan brought Aranxia to his house, a small place overlooking the ocean, and held the door open for her to go inside first. She hesitated, looking anxiously at the open door, and then at Aennan.

“Is something wrong?” the young man asked anxiously, his brow furrowing anxiously.

Aranxia swallowed. “You … live here alone?” she asked softly.

He nodded, and Aranxia’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go in,” she murmured. “Not without a third person …”

To her surprise, Aennan was not upset by the news. He simply smiled and shook his head slowly. “Of course,” he murmured softly. “I ought to have known, forgive me. If you will wait here, I’ll bring it out, then.” He gestured towards a chair on his front porch. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Aranxia smiled gratefully and took the chair so that she could wait comfortably. It was a lovely view, she had to say. The porch faced out towards the ocean, and in addition to the sun on the water, she could see a thin peninsula of land jutting out into the ocean. There didn’t seem to be much on it aside from a few trees, but it was quite beautiful. She wondered if Aennan would mind if she borrowed his porch for a few hours to paint the view sometime.

Only a minute later, Aennan was back, and he had a leather portfolio under one arm. He closed the door behind himself and knelt next to Aranxia’s chair. He opened the portfolio and took out some of the papers inside, spreading them across Aranxia’s lap to show her.

“I like to write stories,” he confided in her, turning the pages slowly so that she could see them, “and many of them are supposed to be for children … I have been searching for someone to provide illustrations for them.”

Aranxia skimmed the pages, but only briefly. She didn’t recognize any of the runes, so she had no idea what the pages said.

“And you want me to illustrate the stories?” she asked, looking over at him.

He smiled warmly at her. “If you’re interested. I don’t want to pressure you. But if you are interested, then you would get half the profit from each book sold. You would have money to buy your own canvases, new paints, and it would help with your bill at the inn.”

“So much?” Aranxia was surprised.

Aennan chuckled softly. “Yes. Especially since I would provide you with the supplies you would need for the books.”

Aranxia smiled and bit her lower lip as she thought about it. “You certainly do present a convincing case.”

“I certainly hope so,” he grinned back at her.

Aranxia looked over the pages again and ran her fingers lightly over them. She wished she could read what they said. She was intrigued.

“Tell me,” she said suddenly, turning in the chair, putting her elbow on the armrest and resting his chin in her hand, “in a place with as many people as this, surely there must be other artists. Why ask me?”

Aennan grinned up at her, his teal eyes sparkling. “Well … yes, I know of some artists. But they’re already making their own livings. Besides that, their style of art is just a little too realistic for me. I like your style. It’s all your own, and it’s beautiful. It’s what I’ve been looking for for a good long time now.”

Aranxia blushed, as much at the praise as the way he was looking at her so excitedly. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

Aennan chuckled and stood again. “I like my job, I like my employer, but this is what I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I found out that I knew stories that others didn’t. But to keep children’s attention … well, they like pictures. Even adults like a well done illustration. Books that are also art are the ones that are kept when choices need to be made.”

Aranxia smiled softly. She could see his passion, and it touched her. “Where would we work on it? Unless someone else were to come here, I can’t work on it here …”

“The library?” he suggested. “It’s where I work anyways, and Amanya wouldn’t mind.”

“That would be fine,” Aranxia agreed. “And when would we meet?”

Aennan pursed his lips. “Well … what if I pick you up at the inn in the morning on my way to the library? Take you back again afterwards?”

Aranxia’s smile widened. “I’d like that very much. Thank you. And- and thank you,” she said again, “for everything.”

He grinned back at her. “My pleasure.”

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 19 Stirring

Aennan picked up Aranxia when he said he would, and despite his assurances that he would provide for her all the supplies she would need for her work, she brought her own paints and brushes anyways. He was carrying his own bag, but he offered to carry hers anyways, and she smiled, thanked him, and turned him down. His bag seemed heavy enough as it was.

She found out why just after they arrived at the library.

“Good morning,” called the librarian as the two of them entered.

“Good morning,” Aranxia replied with a shy smile.

“Morning,” Aennan called back cheerfully. “Amanya, this is Aranxia. She’s going to be helping me out with my books. Aranxia, this is Amanya, head librarian.”

Amanya smiled and raised one hand in greeting. “Welcome. It’s nice to know that someone’s going to help Aennan get his books finished; he’s been working on them for quite a while. Just make sure he doesn’t ignore his own work while you’re at it.”

“I’ll just get her set up and get right to work,” Aennan promised with a grin. “I’ll be back shortly.” He ushered Aranxia towards the nearest of the reading booths, and to Aranxia’s surprise – though thinking back it probably oughtn’t have surprised her – Shiro was in there with a book in front of him and his tablet in his hands. They exchanged a greeting and an apology and Aennan brought Aranxia to the next booth instead.

“Here,” he said, pulling a loose leaf book out of his bag and setting it on the table. “Why don’t you start with reading through a story, maybe get some ideas about what pictures you might do …”

“Only one problem with that,” Aranxia said quietly, her face growing warm. She tucked her hair behind her ears and watched anxiously as Aennan pulled out brushes and bottles of ink and water. “I … I can’t read your writing.”

Aennan blinked and tilted his head to look at the pages. “I … wrote my neatest …”

“No, no, it’s not about neatness,” Aranxia assured him, putting one hand on his. “It’s just … our writing systems are different. I know two different writing systems and both of them are different from yours.”

She reached for a blank sheet of paper and pulled a pencil from her bag. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She began to write on the paper, first spelling her own name, and then Aennan’s.

Aennan exhaled slowly, blowing out his cheeks. “Shades … that’s something I hadn’t considered … give me a minute to talk to Amanya, I’ll see if she won’t let me start late today.”

He gave her a reassuring smile, patted her on the shoulder, and headed off to speak to the head librarian.

While he was gone, Aranxia looked over the pages Aennan had given her. The writing itself was interesting: instead of individual runes for the sounds, they all seemed connected like a squiggly line, with dots and lines added here and there. She was curious to know how it worked.

“Okay,” Aennan said, returning and kneeling at the end of the table, “I’ve been given a bit of time, but I have to get back to work soon. How shall we do this?”

“Why don’t we first write down our writing systems and compare them,” Aranxia suggested. “Then maybe you can tell me the first story, and that way while you’re working, I can just translate if I have any questions. And rather than painting right away, I’ll do some sketches to see if you like what I’m thinking of before it becomes permanent.”

“Wonderful.” Aennan grinned. He stood up. “May I sit next to you?”

Aranxia giggled. “Of course. You can’t write from the floor. There’s room enough for both of us here.”

Aennan chuckled softly and slid onto the bench next to her. It was barely big enough for the both of them, and they had to sit close together, but neither of them minded, and neither of them mentioned it.

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 24 Stirring

After a long breakfast, Aranxia and Aennan left the inn together.

“You mentioned something the other day about painting the view from my porch,” Aennan commented to Aranxia. “I thought … if you wanted to do that today, we could just relax afterwards …”

“And what will you do while I work, then?” Aranxia asked him with a gentle smile. “It may take a while. It’s a beautiful view, and I would want to do it justice.”

“My favourite pastime.” Aennan blushed faintly, and through his translucent skin she could see his pulse quickening slightly. “Watch you work.”

Aranxia giggled softly. Well, he was honest, anyways. “If you’re certain you won’t be bored,” she agreed.

When they arrived at Aennan’s house, Aennan went inside while Aranxia set up her easel and canvas. By the time she had her paints also set up, he was back, and he had with him several loose sheets of paper and a pencil.

“Writing?” Aranxia asked, selecting a brush and looking out towards the ocean.

“I have some ideas I’d like to get down,” he replied, settling into the chair once he saw that she would be standing. “Rough idea for a story.”

Aranxia laughed softly. “You’re going to keep me very busy, I think,” she smiled at him. She moved her easel a bit so that her view was changed: now she could paint Aennan sitting in his chair and working.

He didn’t seem to notice that he had become the subject of her painting, as his eyes were already focused on his paper. “Well … if I let you get bored, you might not want to help me anymore,” he replied with a grin.

He glanced up at Aranxia then and winked at her, and she giggled. “Well, if you say so,” she grinned back at him. “So get to work, then.”

She waited until he looked back down at his sheets before she began to paint.

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 30 Stirring

After returning the book to his home, Aennan took Aranxia back into the city. He first brought her to the tailor’s where she was measured, and then she took her time and looked around at some of the materials while Aennan ordered something for her that afterwards he refused to tell her about. Then he brought her to the market and bought her a fresh raspberry pastry. From there, it was a new portfolio from the tanner; brushes, paints and canvases from the supply shop; and a new carrying case for her supplies. Aennan paid for it all, since he hadn’t yet given Aranxia her half of the money from the sale of the book, but she had no doubt that it would come out of her cut.

“Shall we deliver the book together?” Aennan asked her after they’d visited all the shops they could think of.

“After we bring all of this back to the inn?” Aranxia suggested in turn.

“Agreed.” Aennan chuckled and helped her to carry her purchases back to the inn.

After that they headed back to his home and picked up the book, and then once again they made their way into the city. Aranxia had no idea where they were going, though clearly Aennan did. It was a long walk, but eventually they arrived at a cozy looking house with smoke rising from its marble chimney. Aennan smiled at Aranxia and knocked at the door.

The door was opened by a brown-haired human who smiled broadly when he saw the two of them standing there.

“Welcome,” he said warmly. “Come in, come in. You have the book, yes? Come, we have your payment in the other room.”

“Thank you.” Aennan smiled and let Aranxia enter first, then stepped in after her.

Before the door was even closed, a little girl, maybe three or four years old, ran into the room. She had brown skin and sandy hair, and her eyes were a matching shade of brown.

“Papa, Papa!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Is that the story, Papa?”

The man chuckled and scooped her up. “It certainly is, sweetie. And these are the people who made it. This is Aennan, he wrote the story, and …”

He trailed off and looked at Aranxia, who blushed.

Aennan chuckled. “Aranxia. She did the pictures.”

“Pictures!” the little girl squealed, clapping her hands together.

Aranxia laughed softly. Aennan passed over the wrapped book, and the man put it down on a nearby table.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, setting his daughter down and going through a doorway.

The little girl made a beeline for the book and pulled the cloth away. “Shiny,” she oohed, running her hands over the front cover. She opened it and flipped to the first page of the story. Her eyes lit up brightly, and she reached her elbows over the table and pushed herself up so that her toes were dangling and she was able to see the pages better. Aennan and Aranxia exchanged a glance and grinned.

“Here you are,” said the man, coming back into the room with two bulky coin pouches. “Three hundred.”

Aennan bowed as he accepted the pouches. “Thank you, sir. I hope you enjoy the book.”

“Trust me, I shall,” the man chuckled. “We all will.” He grinned at Aranxia. “It truly is a work of art. Thank you both.”

Aranxia smiled and bowed her head. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she kept silent.

When they left the house, Aennan passed one of the pouches to Aranxia. “Yours,” he grinned at her.

Aranxia blinked at him in surprise. “You’re not going to take out the cost of the things you bought for me today?”

“I hope I didn’t give you the impression I was going to ask for that money back,” he replied, equally surprised. “No … that was all a gift from me.”

Aranxia was astonished. “But … there was so much!” she exclaimed. “Why?”

Aennan stopped in his tracks and stared at her. He seemed confused about something. “Why?” he repeated. “Why? Aranxia, isn’t it obvious?”

The heat rose in Aranxia’s cheeks, and she lowered her gaze self-consciously. “I … um …”

Aennan took her chin in his hand and raised it so that her eyes met his. He smiled softly, and she blushed hotly. He chuckled quietly. “Still need a hint?”

Aranxia’s face grew even warmer, and she shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on his. His grin widened, and he pressed his lips gently to her forehead. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s take a walk before I take you back to the inn for the night.”

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 36 Stirring

It was noon before Aranxia had word from Aennan. Even Wren had grown tired of chess by that time and gone off into the city, and Lancaeriel had long since disappeared. Daeron and Iorlas had spent a bit of time chatting with her, and then she had once again been left alone. She’d finished her painting of the inn and had a light lunch, then returned outside to paint again. This time, she painted herself and Wren playing chess at the small table. She had just finished painting in herself when a young man, his hair streaked with black and gold, approached her.

“Princess Aranxia Aldrich?” he said hesitantly.

She lowered her brush and looked at him. “Yes?”

He smiled at her. “I have a delivery for you,” he told her, opening a bag that hung from one of his shoulders.

Aranxia blinked at him and set her brush down. “For me?” she repeated in surprise. “From whom?”

“There’s a letter here,” he said, taking out a sealed letter. “He said to read that first.”

“First?” Aranxia took the letter from him and turned it over in her hands. There was nothing on the outside, and she wondered again who might have sent it. Aennan would surely have come himself if he could, wouldn’t he?

A sudden fear gripped her. What if something had happened, and he couldn’t?

“And there are also these,” the messenger added, pulling out some wrapped packages. He looked at her. “Would you like some help with carrying anything?”

Aranxia looked at the packages. There were four of them, each of them a different size, ranging from the size of a fist to the size of several books wrapped together. She nodded. “Please.”

The man bowed his head and smiled, and Aranxia led the way into the inn. She trusted that her paints would be safe until she could put them away, which she told herself she would do as soon as the messenger had gone. She showed him to her room, and he set the packages on her bed and bowed to her.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“Most welcome,” he replied with a smile. “Have a lovely day.”

And then he was gone.

Aranxia didn’t feel as if she was having a lovely day, but she didn’t say anything. She was too intrigued. She set the letter on top of one of the packages, then headed out to pack up her painting things again.

The first thing she did after putting her paints away was open the letter that was still sitting atop one of the packages. She wasn’t sure what she would find, but she was reassured by the thought that at least now she would be able to read the local script.

To her surprise, when she opened the letter, it was written in her own runes, as perfectly as if done by a scribe who had been using them his entire life.

A scribe …

She couldn’t hold back a small laugh. Aennan must have taught himself her runes, just as she had learned to read his script.

Excitement growing within her, she read the letter eagerly.

Aranxia,
Forgive me for being unable to meet you as I promised. An emergency
has arisen with my sister-in-law, and I must take care of her while my
brother is gone. He hopes to be back sometime this afternoon, however,
and then I shall be yours again. Until then, please open the packages that
I sent to you. I had hoped to give them to you myself, but alas, fate is not
on our side. Please open the second largest package first; it goes by itself.
Do not worry if it fits tightly, it is meant to be worn for swimming, and is
designed to be so. As for the rest, it all goes together, and if you would be
so kind as to wear it this evening and await me just outside the inn at
sundown, I would be honoured.
Until then, I remain,
Your humble servant.

It was unsigned, but Aranxia had no doubt that it was indeed Aennan who had sent her the letter and the parcels. She read the letter through a few more times, and each time her smile grew wider, until it actually began to hurt. He hadn’t abandoned her. He was helping out his family during an emergency. And it was clear now what his morning errand had been.

At length, she forced herself to set the letter aside, and turned her attention to the packages. The one she had been directed to open first was soft and floppy, and she sat on the edge of the bed as she opened it. Inside were two separate items: a pair of short leggings, and a short dress. It looked almost like underclothes, she mused, and she wondered if they would fit as closely as a chemise. Flowers, swirls and bubbles in eight different shades of blue, it was fascinating to look at - and, if she was being honest, it was far removed from anything she had ever seen before.

She smiled bemusedly and folded the items again, setting them aside so that she could open the other packages. Here she was faced with a choice: largest to smallest? Or smallest to largest? Well, it made no difference, she supposed.

She reached for the largest parcel and opened it up. Inside was a mass of shimmering material. When she pulled it out, she gasped with delight. It was a dress: crushed velvet – burgundy – accented with golden satin trim around the waist and arms. The overskirt was the same crushed velvet, and an opening in the front displayed the golden satin beneath it. From each arm hung a tippet, burgundy velvet on the outside, gold satin on the inside; showy, but not impractical.

Aranxia was stunned. She had grown up in a palace, been given anything she had ever needed, much that she had merely wanted … and this was both the most beautiful and the most precious article of clothing that she had ever received.

She laid the dress across the bed and, dazed, reached for the next package. Inside of that was a pair of shoes, but they were shoes unlike any she had seen before. Only the bottoms were leather, and that part was invisible when she put them on. The rest was more slipper than shoe: comfortable and exactly her size, they were made of the same crushed velvet as the dress was.

She was about to reach for the final package when the door opened and Lancaeriel stepped inside. She stopped in surprise when she saw Aranxia, not even fully through the door.

“Aranxia,” she murmured softly, “correct me if I’m wrong … but … oughtn’t you be out at this time of day?”

Aranxia’s eyes sparkled, and she held up the shoes. “Aennan has sent me gifts in place of himself today,” she replied with a grin. “He had an emergency, but he sent me some clothes and asked me to wear them tonight when he picks me up at sundown.”

“Clothes?” Lancaeriel closed the door and stepped closer. “May I see?”

Aranxia grinned and set the shoes down so that she could pick up the dress. She held it in front of herself.

Lancaeriel gasped, and her eyes grew wide. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “And the shoes as well?”

Aranxia laughed and laid the dress down again carefully. “Yes. And something else I haven’t opened yet. Care to open it with me?”

“I’d love to watch, anyways,” Lancaeriel grinned. “Come on, you’ve got me excited now.”

Aranxia giggled and picked up the final package, the smallest one. She opened it and found a small black box. Inside, she saw the same burgundy material that the dress was made of. The box had three compartments in it: in one was a necklace; in the second, a bracelet; in the third, a pair of earrings. Each was made of silver – the real thing, she knew how to tell – and each item had a ruby set into it.

Aranxia and Lancaeriel stared at the items in the box, then at each other, both of them stunned into silence.

Lancaeriel was the first to find her voice back.

“Do you think he has feelings for you?’ she asked faintly.

Aranxia smiled widely, blushing hotly. Lancaeriel laughed and hugged Aranxia, then held her at arm’s length. “Now don’t you waste any time,” she grinned. “You go take a nice hot bath and then get back here so that I can help you dress. Understand?”

Aranxia laughed and nodded. “I’ll go now!”

“Good!” Lancaeriel laughed again. “And don’t you waste any time.”

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 37 Stirring

It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that Aranxia returned to the inn, when the night was far closer to dawn than the previous sunset. She slipped into the room she shared with Lancaeriel and Wren as silently as she could, but it was no use: both women were awake and waiting for her, sitting up and playing a silent game of fanorona. When Aranxia stepped into the room, both women looked up at her.

“You’re back,” Lancaeriel sighed with relief, leaning back tiredly against the back of her chair.

Wren was looking Aranxia over. “You were out for a very long time,” she said softly. “Most of the night, in fact.”

“We were worried,” Lancaeriel put in gently, clearly trying to make up for Wren’s suspicious tone.

“You bet we were worried,” Wren frowned. “It’s been hours, Aranxia. Where were you?”

“I’m sorry,” Aranxia said anxiously, closing the door gently behind herself. “I didn’t know I would be gone that long.”

Lancaeriel smiled softly. “Where did you go?” she asked, giving Wren a look that clearly said Be quiet.

Aranxia smiled widely and pulled off her cloak. “He first took me to a restaurant for dinner,” she said softly, savouring the memory just as she had the experience. She laid her cloak across her bed, and in doing so she completely missed the look of surprise and awe that appeared on Wren’s face. It was Wren’s first time seeing Aranxia’s new clothes, as she had not been around before Aranxia had left.

“It was wonderful,” Aranxia went on obliviously. She clasped her hands together and turned back to her roommates. “The dinner was delicious, and we talked for ever so long … and there were musicians there, and when we had finished eating we danced and danced and danced …”

Her eyes sparkled brightly, and she began to twirl herself across the floor, humming softly. Wren and Lancaeriel caught each other’s eye and grinned.

“And then when the restaurant closed for the night,” Aranxia went on, still twirling, “we went for a walk along the beach … oh, it was so beautiful, with the moonlight on the water, and the stars – I’ve never seen them so clearly!”

Lancaeriel laughed and rose from her seat and, catching Aranxia by the hands, stopped her from twirling. “Well, the night is far gone … you’d best get some rest if you’re going to go back to work in the morning.”

Aranxia laughed and hugged the older woman. “I know. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to! I’ve never felt this way before!”

Lancaeriel giggled. “You’re in love, dear. I recognize the signs. But trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t sleep. Here, I’ll help you undress.”

She turned Aranxia around and began to unlace the dress. Wren watched in silence. She of course had no experience with love, but from watching Aranxia, it looked like a wonderful thing. She also suddenly had a feeling that she knew how her father must feel, with her being so far away from him and him having no idea what she was doing.

She smiled and rose to get Aranxia’s night clothes for her. She would try harder not to be hard on Aranxia if she came home late again.

Location: Caras Galadhon, Caras Galadhon, Arkandia
Year: 115 F.A.
Status: 37 Stirring

Aennan was working upstairs in the library, writing out a transcription of one of the texts from another country, when he saw an unfamiliar rune. He had been working on transcriptions for several years now, and the fact that most of the books in the library were written in the Caras Galadhonian script was primarily thanks to him. But occasionally, he still found something new, and whenever that happened he would simply go down to Amanya, get her to tell him how to transcribe it, add it to his personal lexicon, and continue on with his work.

He rose from his chair and stretched. Well, there was no sense in wasting any time. He needed that rune, and he might as well get it right away. He rummaged through his bag for his lexicon, turned to the page for the language from which he was transcribing, and added the rune to the page; then he tucked the lexicon into a pocket and headed for the stairs.

Most people were unaware of the fact that the library had a second floor, and this was done intentionally by Amanya, who had helped to design it, with the intention of having a safe place to keep the rarest or most precious of books as well as some private rooms in which to work in peace. The stairway was located in the smaller children’s reading room behind a thick floor-to-ceiling tapestry. It kept most of the sound out, and also worked as a bit of an insulator.

He headed down the stairs, and he was about to pull aside the tapestry when he heard a voice in the room on the other side. He lowered his hand. He knew it wasn’t reading time for the children, but he didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going on in there. He was about to return upstairs when he realized it was Aranxia speaking, and he couldn’t help himself: he stopped to listen.

“… is unthinkable, but to suggest that I might be doing just that is … it’s just …”

Something prickled inside Aennan, and without realizing it he clenched his fists tightly. Someone was bothering Aranxia …

To his surprise, it was Amanya’s voice that responded, though it was so soft that he had trouble hearing what she said.

“… you would do … simply meant … you are only visiting … your parents … when your ship sails … leave him behind …”

He blinked. They were discussing him!

He couldn’t help himself. He took half a step closer to the tapestry to listen in.

“What kind of person do you think I am?” came Aranxia’s voice. He could tell that she was angry, but her voice was very quiet. He could barely hear her through the thick tapestry. “Do you not think that I would rather tear my heart out than do such a thing to him? I may be young, but I know what love is.”

Aennan’s heart skipped a beat, and he missed the next bit. Did she mean what he thought she meant?

When his thoughts finally cleared, it had gone quiet in the next room. He rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath, and was about to go through when he heard Amanya’s voice again, barely audible.

“I … respect … insensitive … could not … you … rest assured …”

And then everything went silent.

Aennan waited for a few moments, and was about to reach for the tapestry once more when he heard a soft sob. He didn’t know who it was, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He hesitated for a moment, then, intent on pretending he hadn’t heard anything, he pulled back the tapestry and stepped into the other room. It was empty, but the curtain over the door was waving as if someone had just left. He gave it another minute before pulling back the curtain himself and heading out to the front desk.

As he walked across the wide room, he glanced at the booth where Aranxia always worked. She was there, but she wasn’t working: she had her face in her hands and had pushed her work away. A cold wave swept over Aennan, but he kept his face impassive and continued over to ask Amanya about the unidentified rune.

“Amanya,” he said softly, stopping in front of her desk.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Yes?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lexicon. “I’ve come across another new rune. Do you recognize it?”

The librarian leaned forward to look at it. “Yes … it’s the same as both our ath and our ay. The exact transcription depends on the word.”

Aennan nodded and wrote in the proper transcription. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Amanya smiled. “Anything else?”

Aennan nodded and leaned on his knuckles on the desk, leaning forward so that he was closer to his employer.

“One more thing,” he said quietly, fighting to keep control of himself. He couldn’t control his eyes, though, and they were blazing with anger. “If you have a concern about me, you ask me. You leave Aranxia alone.”

He tucked his lexicon back into his pocket and turned and walked away.

He started back towards the reading room so that he could return upstairs to his work, but after only a few steps, he changed direction and instead headed towards Aranxia.

“Hey,” he said softly, standing next to her. His eyes were filled with concern, and he put one hand tenderly on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She looked up at him, and when he saw how red her eyes were, he didn’t hesitate, but slid onto the bench beside her and put one arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he held her close.

“Ignore her,” he murmured softly. “She won’t bother you again. I promise.”