Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done.

Author’s Note: Thanks to Pipwise for the beta!

Masquerade

By Elendiari

Chapter One: The Concept of a Masquerade

“A masquerade? Why?”

“Because, Estel, it would be a good way for our people to forget their woes for a time. Valar know they need it.”

Aragorn stared down at Arwen, who was seated at her writing desk, and sighed. Once the Queen had an idea in her head, he knew better than to try and prevent it. The fact that she had only been Queen for a few weeks made no difference.

“Well, what do you suggest, then? I imagine that you have the whole business planned already,” Aragorn said, sitting down next to her.

Arwen gave him a sunny smile and lifted a piece of paper. “I propose that we have the ball for four days. We had events like this in Rivendell, before you were born, and long before the Shadow returned. We could have one ball each evening, with different costumes each night. The last ball would be the grandest, of course.”

“What of those that cannot afford such lavish items, my lady?” Aragorn asked dryly. “What shall we do for them?”

Arwen reached out and patted his cheek. “Do not fear, Estel, I have that all planned out. What say you?”

Aragorn patted her cheek back. “I think it is a fine idea.”

Arwen gave an undignified squeal and hugged him. “Wonderful! Just wait until I tell Eowyn and the hobbits!”

Aragorn groaned. They were all doomed.

*****

“A what?”

“A masquerade.”

“And that is…?”

“A masked ball, Pippin. Like a costume party.”

“Oh! Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

Pippin folded his arms and glared at Legolas. The Elf sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. Hobbit could be so troublesome when they did not know a word. Legolas had no doubt that this one would now be stored away in Pippin’s memory forever.

“Queen Arwen has decided to have it. She wants us all to have good costumes,” Legolas continued, speaking to the rest of the gathered assembly. “There are four days' worth of dances, and each has a specific theme. They are-”

“We have to have these made for us, don’t we?” Merry interrupted. “Because we’re so small compared to everyone else. I say we make our costumes the best of the lot. We are the heroes of the West, after all.”

“I would have thought that that title belonged to Frodo and Sam,” Gimli said dryly.

“Must we get into that again?” Frodo groaned, settling back in his chair with a thump. “If one more person calls me that, I shall take my sword and beat them.”

This was met by laughter; Frodo, they all knew, would do no such thing. The companions were sitting around the kitchen of their fine house, eating supper and talking about the masquerade. Arwen had charged Legolas with giving them all the details; she had just sent out messengers with invitations, not only to the nobles, but to the common folk as well. There was an air of excitement pervading Minas Tirith, excitement that had not faded since from the wedding of only a few weeks ago. A masquerade had not been held since the before death of Finduilas of Dol Amroth, many years earlier.

“Well, lad, what themes has the little Evenstar has cooked up?” Gandalf asked, eyes twinkling.

Legolas smiled at the wizard. “As I was saying, there are four balls, one each evening. The first night will be a fancy dress ball, the second will be heroes of lore, the third will be a simple masked ball, and the fourth will be creatures from myth and legend.”

There was a moment of silence, than Pippin spoke up. “So, for the one about heroes of lore, will we be seeing men and women dress up as Frodo?”

*****

The masquerade was scheduled to begin in a week, and the City went into a frenzy. The Elves were a great source of aid when it came to costumes; not only were they masters of lore, but they had brought extensive amounts of clothing with them, most of which were put up for rental. Any day, the hobbits would see a group of Elves wandering the streets of Minas Tirith, buying things with the money they received from this enterprise.

The rich had their own tailors make costumes for them, and this went for the hobbits, as well. Fine suits were made for them, in many different colors, as were fine leather masks. Pippin had told the tailor that he wanted to be Frodo for the first ball, as a result of which Frodo got him down and tickled him until the lad ran screaming into Arwen’s chambers and stayed there for the rest of the day.

So it was that Aragorn found his smallest knight, sitting on a footstool by the fire, arguing with the seamstress about which shade of deep blue looked best on the Queen.

“Peregrin, I suppose you know that it’s highly improper for you to be here,” Aragorn said, giving the lad a threatening look.

Pippin gave him a rakish grin, the effect rather spoiled by the cake in his right hand and the teacup balanced on his knee.

“Honestly, Strider, there are a million women in here! Besides, I’d get thrown out of the window if I were to mess anything up,” he said.

“Oh, really? Who said that?”

“Lord Elrond. He told me to act as Queen Arwen’s page, for now.”

Arwen, standing on a high stool, getting a gown pinned, laughed. “He’s a good hobbit, Estel, relax. He’s only a child by Shire reckoning.”

Aragorn rolled his eyes and sat down next to the hobbit, taking a cake from the tea tray. “So how are the costumes coming?”

Arwen smiled at him. “Wonderfully, aren’t they, Pippin?”

The hobbit nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, they really are splendid, Strider! This is going to be a party to remember!”

TBC