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

Author’s Note: I owe an explanation for why this chapter is so late. I’ve been very busy with college and various projects, and when I finally sat down to write, I found that my muse had pulled an Alatarial and died on me. I finally got this written, though, so I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know! Thanks to Pip Brandygin for the excellent beta :)

Chapter Nine: The Ballroom

The dancers that night were tinged with an air of enigmatic darkness. They moved about the ballroom mysteriously in their stately dances, as though every glittering jewel, every fine leather mask was hiding a secret that had lain hidden for decades. Even the air smelled of mystery as fine perfumes mingled with the wax of a thousand candles and the cool night air from the mountains.

The same wind fluttered the fabric of Eowyn’s gown as she stood by the Steward’s seat, watching Arwen and Aragorn dance. A simple masked ball. Was there any such thing, really, in all honesty? So much planning had gone into this ball, into all of them. Eowyn knew that the Elves who were still in the City saw this as an excuse to hold one last ball for their Evenstar, and they had helped to plan the masquerades with gusto. The thought made Eowyn sad, and she pushed it out of her head. She wondered instead where Faramir had gotten to. The last she had seen him, he had been playing a riddle game with Frodo. Perhaps he had lost and was performing some task for the hobbits. The thought made her smile a little.

“Masquerade, paper faces on parade,” Lothiriel commented, coming to stand beside her.

“Only, I believe these are all leather,” Eowyn replied with a grin. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Lothiriel nodded, her eyes gleaming. “I am, although I daresay I would be enjoying myself more if this unbelievably handsome man would stop staring at me and ask me to dance.”

Eowyn laughed aloud; Lothiriel had her pick of all of the men there but for those married or betrothed, and she was worrying about the one who would not dance with her. It was an entirely new concept to Eowyn, though it was amusing.

“Which one is he?”

“That one, with the long golden hair. He is standing next to the Ringbearer.”

Eowyn looked over towards Frodo and the gathering around him, and bit back a snort of laughter. “That’s Eomer. My brother. Has he really been staring at you all evening? Come, I’ll make him dance with you.”

She took a protesting Lothiriel and half dragged her across the hall towards Eomer. As they got closer, she realized that he was indeed sneaking furtive glances at the pretty woman beside her. Eowyn grinned broadly at him, relishing Eomer’s look of horror when he realized what was about to happen. To think that her fearless elder brother was indeed nervous to meet a woman. It was definitely an evening for learning experiences, if nothing else.

“Eomer, dearest brother, this is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth,” Eowyn said, presenting Lothiriel to Eomer with a grin. “Lothiriel, this is my brother, Eomer.”

The two nodded at each other politely, then stood there awkwardly. Frodo took his attention from his game and nudged the Rohir gently.

“Ask her to dance,” he whispered loudly.

Eomer nodded and took Lothiriel’s hand. As soon as they were gone, Eowyn sat down in a nearby chair and laughed.

“Was I that silly when I met Faramir, Merry?” she asked.

“No, you were much worse.” Eowyn turned to smile up at Faramir as he walked up behind her. “Come, dance with me.”

Pippin watched them go with a grin. “Ah, young love,” he sighed, and Frodo snorted.

“What would you know about it, lad?” he asked.

“Only what I see in other people,” replied Pippin easily.

Frodo grinned and turned back to Gimli. “Bacon,” the dwarf rumbled at him, and Frodo laughed. It was a beautiful sound to hear.

Pippin turned his attention to the dancers. He, too, sensed the strangeness of the evening, but he could not put his finger on the source. The air is positively crackling with something, Pippin thought. I wish I knew what it was.

It was in that moment when something very strange happened. Pippin was standing with his fellow hobbits and the nobles, who had joined them, and he could just see part of the far corridor door from there. It was not a commonly used door, so it caught his eye when a young woman dressed all in gold stepped through it. For half a moment, Pippin thought it was Eowyn. But no, it couldn’t be, Eowyn was wearing white that evening. He took a closer look at the newcomer and felt his stomach drop down to his toes.

There was something chillingly familiar about the girl. She was very young, hardly out of childhood, and her pretty brown hair was pulled into a soft bun. Her mask was gold and black, tied to her head with ribbons. As Pippin watched, an older man came up and bowed, then led her onto the dance floor. The man, dressed all in black, did not seem to belong there any more than the girl did. Oh, dear, Pippin thought, this cannot be good. Those are ghosts!

So they seemed to be. Pippin had not seen that man all evening, and he was certain that he would have remembered anyone with a mask like that. It was a full-faced mask in the shape of a leering skull, and it would have terrified him if he weren’t so interested. The girl could only be Alatarial. He would have gotten down on his knees and sworn it before the king.

The couple danced in time with the rest of the company, but they never came close to touching the others. Pippin advanced towards the dance floor and stared after them earnestly. When Eowyn and Faramir went past him again, Pippin caught Eowyn’s eye and pointed towards the ghostly couple. Eowyn turned her head to look at them, but was soon lost from Pippin’s sight as Faramir whirled her away.

Eowyn soon spotted the couple Pippin had pointed out. She felt her stomach clench as soon as she laid eyes upon them, the dark man and the golden lass. Something is not right! Her mind screamed at her as she danced.

“What are you looking at, love?” Faramir murmured, turning to gaze in the same direction.

“The man with the skull mask and the girl dressed in gold,” Eowyn replied. “Over there. Do you see them?”

Faramir frowned, eyes darting around as he searched for the couple she had spoken of. He could not see anyone matching the description, which worried him. Eowyn was not the sort of woman who made things up to make a situation more interesting. If she said something was there, it should be there. Shouldn’t it?

“I do not see anyone with a skull mask, Eowyn,” he said finally. “Nor any girls dressed all in gold.”

Eowyn stared up at him in shock. “What? Why not? I swear they are there, Faramir, I am not lying!”

Faramir looked again, following her eyes this time as Eowyn looked back at the couple. No, he could not see anything. When he said so, Eowyn stopped short so suddenly that Faramir was forced to pull her off of the dance floor to avoid her being trampled by the other dancers. Still waltzing, he hauled Eowyn into one of the small side chambers that had been designated as a refreshment room. Across the hall, several pairs of eyes watched the Steward and his lady move away. The owners of these eyes quickly dropped their previous activities and followed.

In the refreshment room, Faramir sat Eowyn down in a chair and knelt down in front of her.

“Now, what is the matter?” he asked softly, looking into her eyes.

Eowyn frowned, wondering if she ought to tell him that she had seen two ghosts. He’ll think I’m mad, she thought sadly. I shouldn’t say anything.

Aloud, she said, “I thought I saw something that could not have been there. I must have had too much wine.”

Faramir raised an eyebrow at her, but smiled slightly. “Perhaps you’ve seen shades of a past ball, lured by the thought of another party. That happens sometimes, you know, though they would have had the ball in the other ballroom, long ago. Do not let it disturb you. I don’t think it was the wine, which I know you haven’t touched all night.”

Eowyn smiled back at him; she knew she should have known that Faramir would take her seriously. I wonder if I should tell him who it was. The only thing that prevented her from doing so was the other people in the room with them.

“Are you all right, Eowyn?”

They both looked up; Aragorn and Arwen had followed them into the room and were looking concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Eowyn hastened to assure them. “I just got a bit of a fright. It was nothing serious.”

Faramir rolled his eyes slightly at that, but didn’t say anything. Aragorn looked unconvinced, gazing at her shrewdly.

“Eowyn, did you see them, too?” Pippin burst into the room, followed by Merry, Eomer and Lothiriel. All of them looked concerned. Pippin stopped short abruptly when he saw Aragorn.

“You looked like you’d seen a ghost out there,” Lothiriel added. She looked worried. “Your face is still pale.”

“What did you mean, Pippin,” Eomer asked the hobbit, frowning, “by ‘did you see them, too?’”

“Is there anything I should know?” the King asked, his voice stern.

“No,” Pippin and Eowyn said together. “I pointed out a man with a funny mask to her,” Pippin added quickly.

“Really, all of you, I’m fine. I just need to sit for awhile,” Eowyn said firmly. “Go on back to the ball; you needn’t worry about me. Go, enjoy yourselves.”

She hoped it would work, and also that no one would think that she was submitting to feminine vapors for the first time in her life. For a moment no one spoke, then Arwen took Aragorn’s hand and turned him away gently. “Come, Estel. Eowyn speaks the truth, and we should not neglect our guests. I’ll talk to you later, Eowyn.”

“I can stay with the White Lady if you wish, my lord king.”

Everyone turned to stare at the pageboy who had spoken. Bergil blushed scarlet at his boldness and bowed deeply. “I can fetch you if anything happens.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Arwen said. “Thank you, Bergil. Now come along, all of you.”

Eowyn gave Arwen a grateful look as the queen herded everyone out. Arwen returned the look with one of her own, which clearly said, you are going to tell me everything later. Eowyn nodded slightly to her.

Soon enough, she was alone in the room but for Bergil. The lad bowed to her shyly, and Eowyn smiled at him.

“Thank you for offering to stay with me, but I fear I will bore you,” she said.

“You won’t,” Bergil assured her. “Can I get you a drink, my lady?”

Eowyn nodded, and Bergil hurried over to the laden table, returning with a porcelain teacup filled with a thick black liquid.

“It’s coffee,” Bergil explained, noting Eowyn’s puzzled look. “It came with some traders from Dol Amroth last week. It’s very good, actually.”

Eowyn took the cup and sipped at the hot liquid. At once sweet and bitter, it was rich and smooth. It was an acquired taste, but she liked it. Eowyn leaned back and sipped her coffee. For the first time all evening, she allowed Gandalf’s words to return to her mind. She had blocked them out of her mind during her bath earlier that evening, unable to make head or tale out of them. Why do you think Faramir’s mother dwells in the Overheaven? The wizard had not answered his own question, leaving Eowyn standing puzzled and slightly frightened in the stable. And what was it that Faramir had said about there being another ballroom in the Citadel?

“Bergil,” she said, looking at the lad. “Do you know of another ballroom here in the Citadel?”

Bergil looked surprised, but he nodded. “Yes, I do, but it’s in the empty part. I can show you the way, if you like.”

“I would like that,” Eowyn replied, standing up. “Let’s go, then.”

Bergil took her cup and set it down on the table, then led her out of a back door. It went to the servants’ hallway, he explained, but it was the only way he knew. Eowyn nodded and followed him through the door.

Pippin walked nonchalantly through the door of the refreshment room, looking around for Eowyn. He had only just now been able to get away from his cousins, and was coming to talk to the White Lady again. He wanted to know if she, too, had seen the ghosts, and if that was why she had gotten so upset. Merry had not seen them, but then he had been very interested in Frodo’s riddle game. The Brandybuck was waiting in the ballroom as a look out, in case the mysterious couple showed up again.

Once in the room, Pippin saw that Eowyn was gone, and Bergil with her. He looked around in consternation, than noticed the servants’ door in the far corner. A flash of white was disappearing around the corner, and Pippin knew at once that Eowyn had gone adventuring without him. Can’t allow that to happen, he thought, and set off after them.

The passage he found himself in was narrow and scantily lit. Up ahead, he saw Eowyn being led by Bergil. She had a candelabra held high in one hand. Pippin broke into a run to catch up with them.

“Hoy! Eowyn, Bergil, wait!” he hissed, and was gratified when they paused and turned to him.

“Where are you off to?” Pippin asked, arriving breathlessly.

“Did anyone see you come?” Eowyn asked in response, looking worried. “Aragorn looked suspicious.”

Pippin waved a hand. “I think that’s in his nature. No, nobody saw me come, and Merry is going to tell anyone that asks that I’ve gone to the privy. He’s waiting in the ballroom. Where are we off to?”

“The old ballroom,” Bergil answered. “Lady Eowyn wants to see it.”

Pippin frowned. “Didn’t you see it when we were exploring the empty wing before, Eowyn? I walked right through it; it was very scary.”

The White Lady shook her head. “No, I must have taken a different route than you. Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to get caught.”

It was, as Pippin had remembered, a very long way to the old ballroom. Either the servants’ passage twisted more than the normal corridors, or the Citadel was simply bigger than he had ever thought, but it took them a good twenty minutes of walking to get there. It may have been because of the darkness of the passage; the candles were unlit the farther they went, and the darkness pressed in around them so that they huddled in the faint light of Eowyn’s candelabra.

“This passage runs parallel to the old portrait gallery of the Stewards,” Bergil whispered, his voice echoing like the rasp of a moth’s wings. “Have you seen that? It’s rather frightening.”

“We’ve been,” replied Eowyn, trading a glance with Pippin. “Are we almost there?”

“Yes,’ Bergil replied. “Just a few more turns.”

They emerged into the great ballroom a few minutes later. Floury clouds of dust rose as their feet hit the marble floor. The passage was located in a far corner of the room, and the three explorers tiptoed out into the main expanse of the hall with wary curiosity.

They were in the middle of the ballroom, opposite the huge sweeping staircase that Pippin had walked down several days before. The ballroom was not as dark as it could have been, for starlight shone through the tall and grimy windows. They halted in the middle of the room, and Eowyn turned a slow circuit, looking around in amazement. Pippin turned to, unable to shake the strange feeling that had come over him when they stepped into the ballroom. Like the last time, he felt that if he listened hard enough he would be able to hear strains of balls long past.

Eowyn gave a sudden gasp; Pippin jumped and whirled around. He found that he was looking at the opposite wall, where three figures, one tall, two short, stood in the glow of a candelabra. Pippin let his breath out in a rush as he realized what had frightened Eowyn.

“They’re mirrors!” he cried. “How strange!”

The mirrors ran the entire length of the wall, and were as grimy as the windows. Eowyn turned her attention from them and looked up towards the ceiling. Three chandeliers, all covered in ropes of cobwebs, hung there, their jewels glittering dimly through the dust. Bergil sneezed behind her, and the noise echoed like a clap of thunder. Pippin shuddered, remembering Moria.

“It’s fascinating, in a creepy sort of way,” Eowyn said, patting Bergil on the shoulder. “Look, there are tapestries above the staircase. I want to take a look at those.”

Pippin and Bergil traded a look as Eowyn strode towards the worn velvet of the great staircase, leaving them standing in the darkness. There was nothing for them to do but follow her or be left behind, and they both knew it. Bergil was the first to hurry after Eowyn. Pippin grinned a little and hurried after him.

Eowyn climbed the stairs, holding her white skirts up to avoid getting them too dusty. Her candles flickered dangerously in the wind of her movement, and she slowed to keep them from going out. Dust, roused from years of slumber as she moved, tickled her nose and made her sneeze as explosively as Bergil had. One of the candles flickered and went out. A great black shape rose out of the shadows at the head of the staircase.

For half a second, Eowyn was certain it was the Witch-king, returned to take revenge upon her. The figure, tall and dark, advanced down the stairs with a fluid grace, and she heard Pippin and Bergil cry out in terror. Eowyn gripped the candelabra, ready to use it to beat off this shadow, taking a deep breath to steady her shaking hands. She could hear the lads running towards her. The shadow advanced down the first tier of stairs and stepped onto the landing with her. It was taller than she was, and Eowyn was preparing to strike when it spoke to her.

“What are you doing here, Eowyn?” The voice was familiar and spoke sternly.

“Aragorn?” shrieked Eowyn, nearly dropping the candelabra in her relief.

“Strider!” cried Pippin, sounding furious, and Bergil gasped out, “My lord king!” in relief.

Aragorn stepped into the candlelight and frowned at them all. “What are you three doing here?”

Eowyn glowered at him; now that the scare was over, she was beginning to feel the rush of aftershock adrenaline. “I asked Bergil to show it to me,” she said. “Pippin came, too. What of it?”

Aragorn sighed and took the candelabra from her shaking hands. He used his other hand to turn her around and haul her down the staircase, jerking his head at Pippin and Bergil to follow.

“It is not that safe down here,” he said. “I’m not angry, but you will leave the ballroom alone, please! I don’t want there to be any accidents.”

Pippin rolled his eyes at Bergil, who looked distinctly worried. “The only accident would have been taking you to the Houses of Healing after Eowyn clobbered you with her candlestick,” he retorted. “I’ve been through here before, and nothing happened, except for a few good scares! You needn’t yell at us; you’re scaring Bergil.”

Aragorn paused halfway through the ballroom and looked at the page. Bergil’s pale face looked back at him.

“I apologize, Bergil,” he said. “I am not angry at you for taking them here; I know that these two can be impetuous. Now come along, all of you.”

They didn’t speak again until they were almost back to the refreshment room, retracing their steps through the servants’ passage. Aragorn halted before they were fully there, however, and turned to face them.

“Pippin, what were you saying about being in that wing before?” he asked, directing his most penetrating stare at the youngster. “Tell me.”

Pippin bit his lip in consternation. Drat, I hadn’t meant to tell him! “Oh, I-I went exploring a few days ago and passed through the ballroom. That’s all. Why?”

Aragorn gazed at him for another minute, than shook his head. “Never mind. Just don’t go back over there, any of you. Something tragic happened over there many years ago, and I don’t want there to be any accidents before that wing is restored. Do you understand?”

“No! We don’t!” snapped Eowyn. “Would you care to explain away your ambiguity, my lord?

TBC