Chapter 22 – "So It Begins"

It was not Halbarad, of course. In the same instant that the thought had come to into her head, her brain had immediately told her not to be so ridiculous.

Halbarad was dead. She knew he was dead. Nothing would change that fact.

Not only that, but as she looked at the face gently smiling down at her, she could see this man was considerably younger than Halbarad had been. He was also less square in the jaw, and while the eyes were grey, they more resembled Arvain's than Halbarad's.

If the man noticed her momentary shock, he did not mention it.

"My name is Halladan. You knew my father, I understand? He told me much about you. It is an honour to meet you."

"I thank you. I am honoured to meet you also," Penny replied a little haltingly. "You… you look very like him, you know."

Halladan gave a sad smile. "I know."

"Well met, Halladan." Lindir held out his hand, and the other grasped his forearm. "Still standing, I see. Good, good."

There was a rueful chuckle from Halladan. "More or less, my friend. More or less."

It was only then Penny noticed he was walking with a stick.

"But we are missing one," Lindir carried on cheerfully. "Where is Hirvell? He should be here to greet us and to meet Lady Pen-ii as well."

He had been looking round, peering into the throng to see if he could spot Hirvell as he spoke, but even as his sentence ended, he sensed Faelon, Halladan and Arvain stiffen slightly. He turned back towards them, a look of horror on his face as he guessed what their reaction must mean.

Halladan's jaw had tightened, his gaze falling to the floor as Lindir had mentioned his brother's name. Arvain looked vaguely embarrassed.

It was Faelon who spoke.

"He fell in front of the Black Gates, Lindir. He is with his parents now and in peace."

Lindir looked appalled. "No! No, this cannot be! Hirvell!" He gasped heavily, clearly shocked and grieved by this news. "We had no word… We did not know… Halladan, Arvain, you must forgive me, I had no idea."

"You were not to know," Arvain replied, forcing a smile. "It is a bitter blow, it is true. Perhaps all the harder coming after the loss of Father as well. But he died well, Lindir. Father would have been proud, though I am glad he did not live to see it."

Penny noticed Halladan said nothing but seemed to be staring fixedly at a point somewhere away to his left, almost as if he could not hear the conversation anymore and his attention were drawn elsewhere.

"Come, let us eat. We can mull over all that we have lost and won better without our stomachs rumbling." Faelon was already leading the way to the nearest table.

Penny felt numb.

First Halbarad and now… what was his name? Hirvell, was it? She had never met him, and yet she felt desperately upset by this news.

As she sat, still silent and wondering at the shock she felt for this unknown son of Halbarad's, she glanced up and found Halladan looking at her.

"I… I am sorry for your loss," she said quietly, not sure what was the appropriate thing to say in such a situation. Halladan inclined his head by way of thanks.

Penny felt overwhelmed by the knowledge that not only was Halbarad not here, but only two of his sons had survived him, and one of those was injured, though how badly she did not know.

In fact, as a simple supper of soup, cheese, and bread was presented to them, Penny felt her thoughts crowding in on her. The destruction on the Pelennor, in the city, the personal loss – the scarred men hiding in the shadows in the lower circles, Hirvell dead, the piled heaps of bodies in those mass pits outside the walls…

What horrors had these men seen? What nightmares must haunt their dreams even now?

Not for the first time she felt unwanted thoughts crawl into her head however much she tried to block them out.

How had he died? What had happened to him? Had it been brutal? Painful? Horrific? All three? Had Hirvell's death been any less horrendous? Arvain had said he had 'died well,' but what did that mean? Was any death by sword or hammer or axe glorious?

So many had died, so many had been injured, so much destroyed and lost, and she had known, she had known it would all happen. She had sat by and let it happen. Yes, Sauron had fallen, but at what cost? Though she did not doubt all those involved would willingly have paid an even higher price had it been necessary, was there really nothing she could have done?

It was a pointless question. A futile, hollow, ridiculous question, and she knew the answer to it, but that did not stop her brain from blind-siding her with it every now and then when she least expected it.

She glanced up to the top table where Mithrandir was seated and silently willed him to look up in her direction. Would he even remember her, she wondered. Then she scolded herself. Yes, he was changed when he returned as 'Gandalf the White,' removed in some ways from his former life, but he would not have forgotten her.

Now she was feeling this rush of emotion, she was suddenly very conscious of the fact that it had often been Halbarad who had been the one to comfort her in Imladris: Halbarad and Gandalf between them. Now Halbarad was gone, and Gandalf…? She glanced in his direction once more. Gandalf was laughing heartily at something Glorfindel had said to him, too busy perhaps to even realise she was here among them as yet, though no doubt he would spot her at some point. She would still like to talk to him, though. Now she was here in Minas Tirith, at possibly her final destination, and with so many questions and worries still buzzing about inside her head…

Halladan was watching her.

So this was the famous Lady Pen-ii, was it? This was the strange woman he had heard so much about from his father as they had travelled south, the woman he had wanted to meet for all these months, the woman who had single-handedly managed to enrage and endear herself to his father in a way Halladan had found astonishing, and now here she was sitting opposite him.

She was not quite what he had expected. The change his father had seen begin to show itself in her after her spending time in Imladris had clearly continued apace after he had left her for that last time. There seemed no hint of the mad, wild woman he had described her to be when he had first met her, or not that Halladan could see.

She was a little taller than Halladan had thought she would be, but then his father had always been terribly dismissive of anyone under five foot ten, and while not as tall as a woman of the Dunedain, she was still taller than some mortal women could be. She was also not as plain as he had assumed her to be from his father's description. Halbarad had not said she was ugly, it was true, but then, Halladan berated himself, he should have remembered that in his father's eyes, no woman had any beauty whatsoever compared to Halladan's mother. 'Lady Pen-ii' was not a pig-faced orc, Halladan now realised, unlike some women he had met in his time. She did indeed 'clean up nicely enough,' as his father had put it. She had caught some colour to her skin as she had travelled, the elvish dress suited her, and she looked fit and well…

Or did she?

As he studied her more closely, he could see that underneath the slightly burnished skin tone there was a pallor that hinted at her recent illness. Her face showed it could be a little fuller than it was at present. Halladan had heard the tail end of Arvain's and Penny's conversation as he had joined them, so he knew she had been unwell, and that its marks were still upon her spoke towards its seriousness. He wondered at the concern he felt for her as this realisation sank home, given he had not yet known her for even an hour. But then, in some ways he felt he had known her for months, even if he had not met her before tonight.

He had noticed her reaction to the news of Hirvell's death, how her eyes had grown moist and she had immediately become quiet and introspective, and it had touched him. He could guess some of her current thoughts near enough, especially when he followed her gaze and realised who she was looking at.

He made a note to make sure Mithrandir realised she was among the company from Imladris (though he did not doubt he already knew) and that she possibly wanted to talk to him. Aragorn would want to know as well.

Penny suddenly realised Halladan was looking at her once again, his gaze thoughtfully curious. She flushed and concentrated on trying to eat something, though in truth she had completely lost her appetite.

Now the initial excitement of their arrival was over, the exhaustion of her first long day in the saddle after so long was hitting her. She could have happily fallen asleep right where she was sitting.

"Is anything amiss, Lady Pen-ii? Can I fetch you anything?"

"What? No, I thank you. I am quite well, Lord Halladan."

"Are you sure, Pen-ii? You look tired."

"I am, Lindir. It has been a long day."

"And the first for you not riding in the cart, of course. Perhaps you would prefer to go to your lodging?"

Penny nodded. "Perhaps." She had barely touched her food.

"Cart?" Arvain looked concerned. "Yes, you said you had been ill, Lady Pen-ii. But so ill you could not ride?"

Halladan seemed to share his brother's concern.

"It was nothing. I am quite recovered."

Lindir raised an eyebrow. "It was not 'nothing', and while you are certainly on the mend you are not back to full strength, Pen-ii. You know perfectly well how seriously ill you were."

Penny felt slightly embarrassed having these strangers know she had been so very ill. She did not want to be made a fuss of or have it seem like she was playing for sympathy.

"I am fine, Lindir! Do not fuss! You are like an old mother hen at times!"

Arvain choked on his soup and Faelon laughed out loud. Halladan looked both astonished and amused.

"You see how she talks to us?" Lindir waved his hand at her. "It is disgraceful, really." He grinned.

"Oh, I would say it merely shows she has settled into Imladris life very well," Faelon replied. "It would seem Lady Pen-ii has learnt how to put you in your place easily enough, and that is no bad thing, after all."

"Yes, well, there is that, I suppose." Lindir laughed.

"Do you know where you are housed, Lady Pen-ii?" Halladan asked, trying to bring the conversation back to her. "Do you wish me to find out for you?"

"No, I thank you, Lord Halladan-"

"Please," he interrupted, smiling. "Call me Halladan."

"I thank you, Halladan, but do not trouble yourself. I know I am to be housed with Mireth and Eleniel. I am sure we can find it together ourselves."

"Ah, yes, Mireth and Celebdor are betrothed at last, we hear," Arvain interrupted. "About time, I say. They have been mooning about over each other for as long as I have been alive, if not longer."

While Lindir pointed out that they had probably been 'mooning about over each other' since Halbarad had been a boy, Halladan asked if Penny was quite sure she did not need assistance and Penny reassured him. She had already spotted Eleniel across the room and had caught her eye. Eleniel came over.

"Shall we go and find our lodgings? Celebdor explained to Mireth where they were. He took our baggage there. It sounds easy enough to find."

So Penny made her excuses, glad to be able to get away from them all for a while, if she were honest. She did not leave the great hall without a final glance up towards Elrond, Gandalf, Erestor, and the rest, but they were all too busy to notice her or look her way.

As she made her way across the courtyard, past the fountain and towards her lodging, Mireth and Eleniel chattered excitedly beside her. Penny was too tired and too caught up in her thoughts to say much.

Meanwhile, however, her ears were burning.

"And when you say 'seriously ill', Lindir, you mean…?"

"I mean what you think I might mean, Arvain. Were it not for the fortunate fact that she travelled with skilled healers, and one as skilled as Elrond, well, then…" He left the sentence unfinished. "She was very nearly left in Rohan," he continued. "By rights she was too sick to travel."

"Elbereth!" murmured Halladan, exchanging an alarmed glance with his brother.

They had all seen the way Eleniel had insisted Penny take her arm and, while Penny had protested a little at first, and made a show of not putting any weight on her friend while still near them, she had been using all the support Eleniel could give her by the time she reached the doors. Halladan had also noticed her brief, worried glance to the top table.

A small building on the southern side of the courtyard (down one alley, a left turn, down a second alley and then through the third door on the right) was where Penny had been billeted. The entire three-story house was to be shared by ellith, twelve to a floor. Penny, Mireth and Eleniel were sharing one of the two suites of three rooms on the first floor with three other ellyth. Curtains covered the doorways that led from the central room to the two rooms on either side. Penny suspected that normally this central room would be a place for recreation and eating, but clearly space was limited and two extra cots had been placed there. No doubt the same had been done in every similar set of rooms elsewhere. Each room had a jug of water and a bowl, and a bed pan under each bed.

Each room also had a large window overlooking the wall and out towards the Emyn Arnen in the south-east. Not much could be seen other than a starlit sky and the dark, shadowy mass of the landscape below it.

Mireth and Penny shared one end room. A wooden screen could unfold and be stood between the two beds to provide some privacy (so they could use the bed pans with some level of discretion in the night if they needed to, for example). Penny was too tired to try and discover where the latrines might be and just wanted to go to bed. She insisted the others return to the meal.

"We need an early night too, you know," Mireth laughed.

"I have to go and help Arwen get ready early tomorrow morning," Eleniel reminded Penny. "That dress has been a long time in the making, and I need to make sure she looks her best in it."

Arwen could wear an old potato sack and still look stunning as far as Penny was concerned, but she was not about to argue the point. She shrugged, readied herself for bed and let them stay or leave as they pleased.

She was asleep almost as soon as her head hid the pillow.

So, Penny missed the few short speeches, the story-telling and the ballads, though it was not a long night by any means. Given it would be a long day of feasting and celebration tomorrow, most made their way to their lodgings early.

The hobbits were disappointed to have missed Penny, and also concerned to hear she had been unwell.

"She is fine, Ban, do not worry. You will see her tomorrow, and I am sure she will want to talk more about you and your heroics than her recent minor troubles."

Sam flushed a little at Celebdor's words and muttered something about people making a fuss that he was not used to getting and he was just an ordinary hobbit who had done what anyone else would have done in the circumstances. When Celebdor gave him a look that told him he was not buying it, Sam flushed an even deeper red and wandered off to find Frodo.

Later that evening, a small group were seated in a comfortable room that formed part of the royal suites. It was a warm night, so there was no need for a fire and the shutters were flung back to get some air. The room was lit with candles and by the starlight through the window. The drapes were heavy and fine, the furniture solid and ornately carved, the floor intricately inlaid marble, but there was a sense that this room was infrequently used, indeed had not been used for many years until recently.

"So you decided to bring Lady Pen-ii with you, I notice?" Gandalf was puffing on his pipe, seated near the fireplace.

"Well, as much as she is welcome to stay at Imladris, I thought it prudent to give her this opportunity to move to Minas Tirith should she desire it. I wanted to discuss with you whether perhaps you felt she might be better suited here among Gondorians than the people of the North. Admittedly, I think elvish company suits her best, but I am sure she misses mortal interaction."

"She would be most welcome, but she will only have a short time here to make such a decision," Aragorn pointed out.

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed.

"We have the journey back to Rohan in which it will still not be too late for her to make a decision if she has not already done so before then. It will be a little over a month all told that she has to consider the matter. Besides, she has had all this time as we travelled south to think about it. We discussed it a little before we left."

"Ah."

"What do you mean 'ah'?"

"Nothing, Elrond, only that I am surprised that you-"

"She brought it up herself, Mithrandir," Erestor interjected. "She was not very happy about it either from what we could sense."

"Ah."

"Annoyed you had made decisions about her future without talking to her first, I would imagine, from what I remember of her personality."

"I had not made a decision, Estel."

"I realise. I did not say she was correct in either her assumption or her reaction."

Elrond inclined his head as if to say 'point taken'.

"She needs your advice, Mithrandir."

Celeborn spoke very softly, and all turned to him.

"Oh?"

"When we spoke to her in Lothlorien, Galadriel could sense it very clearly from her, indeed could surmise her questions." He glanced up and looked Mithrandir straight in the eye. "You of all of us, Mithrandir, might have the answers for her. You alone. If not you, then no one in Arda."

"Ah."

There was snort of mild irritation from Elrond. "Give Mithrandir some more wine, Estel. It may help to loosen his tongue somewhat."

Gandalf chuckled. "Now, now, Elrond, I cannot turn up at the marriage of your beautiful daughter with a sore head, can I?"

"There is much uncertainty about her still." Glorfindel spoke at last. "We all can sense it, and while she was ill it was particularly strong at times, was it not?" He looked about him, expecting one of the others to confirm this.

Elrond nodded. "At moments when she let down her guard, yes, it was. There was the fear of the illness when she was more alert, but at other times, yes, it was very clear her sense of confusion and turmoil is still there. She covers it well, indeed I think much of the time she manages to forget about it entirely."

"Except when it is brought to the surface," Mithrandir muttered.

The others glanced at him.

"Halladan spoke to me earlier. He felt sure she had been hoping to speak to me tonight. She was glancing towards our table at the evening meal and seemed… How did he put it? 'Out of sorts,' that was it. 'Out of sorts and troubled' was how he described her. And he has a sharp insight, that one, much like his father before him. She had just learned of Hirvell's death, remarked how like his father Halladan looks, and coming immediately on the heels of riding through the Pelennor and seeing the evidence of destruction in the city… In addition, she will have been tired and more emotional as a consequence of her day's travel, so it was perhaps to be expected."

"She knew much of what took place here," Elrond said quietly. "I was astonished at the detail when she spoke to me at last. Of course, it has yet to be confirmed, though your letters told me much of what she had said was true."

"So very strange," Aragorn said to no one in particular after a brief silence, shaking his head as he did so.

"Is it? Is it so very different from the gift of foreknowledge that everyone in this room possesses to some degree or another?"

"Mithrandir, none of us, not if we had all had some foreknowledge of different elements of this War and combined our thoughts, could have known all that she knew," Erestor pointed out. "If all of it was true, of course."

"You doubt it?"

"Not at all. Yet there is always the possibility she forgot or misremembered parts, or some elements had been lost in translation or changed over the years by inaccurate scribes. Anything is possible, Mithrandir."

"You are quite right. Of course."

"There is more, Mithrandir."

Mithrandir said nothing, but he glanced at Elrond sharply.

"She will not tell me, nor have I pressed her since we left Imladris, but I know there is yet more that she will not speak of."

"Is there, now?" Gandalf murmured quietly, chewing thoughtfully on his pipe.

He mulled over this piece of unexpected news as another short silence fell, each one wondering what more there could be when so much had already passed in recent times.

"Why is she here, Mithrandir, do you know? How did she get here?"

"Ah, now, Aragorn, even I, a humble wizard, cannot know everything."

There was gentle laughter at his words.

"What troubles her most are questions such as those," Celeborn pointed out. "It is clear she feels at home here, both to us as much as to herself, though how that might be or what it might mean I have no true insight. Galadriel told her as much, but I am not sure she understood or believed her. She lives in fear of losing this, of losing what she has gained. She could disappear as suddenly as she arrived, and that terrifies her. I know what I sense from her, and I can guess at the meaning, but that is all it would be – a guess. Without certainty she will never rid herself of her anxiety."

Gandalf nodded, taking a contemplative suck on his pipe, but saying nothing.

"There is the guilt, of course, we must not forget that," Erestor added.

Elrond gave a heavy sigh. "Yes, indeed. I do not doubt that will come to the fore now she is here, where so many have fallen."

"She could have done nothing to prevent it," Aragorn replied. "It would have been wrong of her to try." He spoke with complete conviction.

"True, yet mortal reasoning and nature are ever flawed, my dear friend, as you well know," Gandalf rumbled into his beard. "Yes, I think Erestor and Elrond have made an excellent point. Hmm. Well, nothing can be done till after tomorrow, perhaps not for several days if the festivities are as splendid as I suspect they will be. I shall speak to her when I am able to. As for her staying here in Minas Tirith, that may be an excellent suggestion. We shall have to wait and see."

"After what happened in Rohan, I am not so sure." Glorfindel muttered into his goblet of wine.

"Ah, now, that is easily remedied with more Westron lessons," Erestor retorted.

Glorfindel raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Aragorn looked from one to the other, the hint of a smile on his face. "Why? What happened in Rohan?"

"I am not sure this is the time or the place-" Elrond interrupted hurriedly. His obvious discomfort on Penny's behalf only made Aragorn's smile all the broader.

"Well, she got horribly drunk for a start," Glorfindel began.

At the end of his tale, starting with the drunken singing and ending with the coup de grace of the Westron mistake, Aragorn was laughing loudly and Gandalf's eyes were twinkling below his bushy eyebrows.

"It is hardly a laughing matter, Estel. If Lindir or Rhimlath had not been there-"

"But they were there, Elrond, and I hardly think anyone else in the vicinity would have let her wander off into the night with an enthusiastic young Rohirrim, either. Ai, poor Pen-ii! I take it you have not told her of what occurred? She would be deeply ashamed and embarrassed if she knew." He glanced at the expressions of 'Who do you think you are talking to? Do we look stupid?' that met his gaze and held up his hands with a muttered apology, chuckling.

The next morning was, indeed, an early one. The city was buzzing with excitement. Eleniel stuck her head through the curtain to wake Penny and stir Mireth from her elvish rest. She was already fully dressed, but in an ordinary gown (for which read 'sumptuous by most standards').

"I will be back later to dress myself for the ceremony. I need to go and help Arwen, check no stitching has come undone, or jewels lost or embroidery damaged en route."

"I thought you checked it last night?"

Eleniel had indeed gone to the about-to-be-queen's royal apartments after Penny had slept to lay out the dress and check it over.

"Yes, but I may have missed something in the starlight. The more time I have now, the better." She smiled. "Shall I bring you some breakfast? We help ourselves this morning."

"We can go," Mireth smiled. "You go and help Arwen. Help her calm her nerves."

"Very well. Oh, and we have been told to leave the bedpans, if used. Servants will clear them."

"What?" Penny was appalled.

"Well, that was my reaction too, Pen-ii. We are not used to having others wait on us, but if that is their custom then we may offend if we do not accede to it."

Penny fumed. She was damned if she was going to subject someone else to that. It had been bad enough Mireth or Eleniel doing it when she had been utterly incapable, but a complete stranger when Penny was more than able to deal with it herself? No bloody way!

Mireth and Eleniel exchanged a glance, seeing the determined expression on Penny's face.

"Well, in that case, in future I will use the latrines and cross my legs in the night if I have to," muttered Penny.

The other two laughed. Eleniel then left and Mireth and Penny got up, washed and started to dress. Penny threw open the shutters and looked out.

The view was amazing. Laid out below was layer after layer of roofs and walls. She could make out people wandering to and fro on roads and alleyways, children playing in gutters, women hanging out washing in backyards or on balconies, men chatting to each other in the street, boys coming back home with fresh baked bread for breakfast, dogs barking and chasing their tails. It was early, but there was a level of hubbub that showed today was no ordinary day. Today, Minas Tirith would get its Queen.

Beyond was the green of the southern Pelennor, though even from this distance there was the odd patch of black burning, a tumbled down ruined farmhouse or two and areas of destroyed trees. The wall to the south was only two or three miles distant and, from this height, was just visible in the bright, morning sun as a faint grey line. Then beyond, hidden from view, was the river, and then the low hills of the Emyn Arnen.

Once dressed, Mireth and Penny headed off downstairs, leaving their three other roommates chattering and giggling over the upcoming festivities.

Mireth first of all showed Penny the nearest latrines, housed in a small, low building at the far end of the street. There were six cubicles, and a little foyer with a sink, above which was a pipe with a tap in it. The pipe apparently connected through the roof to a tank that collected rain water. Jugs could be filled and hands washed.

It was surprisingly civilised.

The latrines were not the most private of places – the toilets themselves consisted of one long stone bench that ran the length of the small building, with wooden seats around the holes and stone built dividers separating each one to form a cubicle. Each cubicle had a thin wooden door with a latch and a small window cut into the outer wall to allow in some light once the door was shut. It was not dissimilar to a modern public lavatory, except there was no flush (you used the jug) and the toilets all opened out on to the same sewer pipe that ran underneath them, filled with running water, the sound of which tinkled upwards to you as you made to sit down. The smell of it wafted up to you as well, though, and unless you sat on the western-most latrine you had all your neighbours' waste running underneath you (since the sewer ran west to east), which was not a pleasant thought, but you couldn't have everything, perhaps.

All told, it was not as private or fragrant as latrines in Lothlorien or Imladris, but it was certainly a darn sight better than anything Mireth or Penny could have imagined or hoped for.

The buttery was in a sort of basement area of the Citadel, below the Tower. Various people were already up and about and heading in that direction, chatting amiably, or coming from it armed with baskets or little sacks.

Soon Mireth and Penny were back in their chambers, sharing bread, butter, jam, fruit and milk with the others.

Two women, clearly servants, appeared asking if people wanted to bathe. There was a room on the ground floor with a tiled floor that sloped to a hole in one corner where someone could have a stand-up wash, apparently. The servants offered to wash them personally, but the ellith and Penny politely declined. Thus hot water was brought, cold added to it and the house had washes, two at a time, in the small 'bathroom' downstairs. No one washed their hair, though, since there was not enough time to get it dry.

If, while this was happening and the servants cleaned and tidied the rooms, they wondered why one bedpan was not simply clean as if unused, but rather clean and still wet from having been washed out, they said nothing.

It was late morning when at last they were ready. Eleniel had returned some time before to change and prepare herself. She had asked if they could help with her hair first since she had to return to Arwen.

"I think she could do with as many of us outnumbering the Gondorian ladies-in-waiting as possible, truth be told. They are into everything and while very well-meaning, have no clue about how to help her. They are too busy admiring her dress to help calm her down."

She had then rushed off again, a gem-studded circlet on her brow, and wearing a deep green dress richly embroidered with leaves and tendrils all over the skirt that Penny did not doubt would show the Gondorian women that Arwen's dress, while magnificent, was perhaps only to be expected given Elvish craftsmanship.

Mireth had offered a simple circlet of mithril for Penny to wear but she had felt shy to accept and also pointed out that it might perhaps not suit the white and gold detailing on her red dress. One of the other ellith produced what was actually a pearl cloak clasp – four pearls clustered in a gold setting – that she insisted Penny wear in her hair.

Penny tried to protest but was outnumbered four to one. How they got it to stay there she had no idea, and she was terrified it would drop out and she would lose it. She shook her head gently and realised it was staying firm. Millennia of dressing hair apparently taught you a thing or two, she thought wryly.

There was a knock at the door. An elleth of Lothlorien stuck her head round it to say a group of ellyn were downstairs at the outside door to escort them to the hall, since the crowds were beginning to gather and things were due to start soon.

With the excitement building in her stomach, one last check that her hair was in place and off her face, the pearl clasp had not come loose and that her dress was fully fastened, Penny made her way down with the ellith and stepped out into the lane.

She could not quite believe she was on her way to witness THE wedding of the Age.

Author's Notes:

Now before people wonder where on earth the idea for the latrines and shower/bathroom came from and start ranting, they are based on examples found in the Babylonian, Minoan and Roman cultures (all of which are slightly different, but share many similarities). Indeed it was after watching a documentary on Minoan culture and what they found at Knossos (including a flushing loo and a shower), that I realised (with some regret, I will confess, since you know how I love to torment poor Penny) life at Minas Tirith would not be quite so bad for Penny as I had at first envisaged.

My apologies for another long chapter. So much to say and not enough space to say it in