(sure)

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A pair of messengers from Rohan had arrived in Minas Tirith at dawn, heralding the arrival of King Éomer later that same day. The newly crowned King of the Mark was on his royal progress through Gondor, having already visited Dol Amroth, Osgiliath and Lossarnach. The delegation from Rohan would stay a night in Minas Tirith, before returning to Edoras.
Tiaru went to the king’s private study to speak with him about the arrangements. Boromir was there, his brow furrowed as he reviewed a scroll in his hands; what appeared to be the monthly harvest report, judging from the displeasure on his face. A frost unlooked-for had cut through the pale warmth of Spring, blighting flowers on branches and sprouting grains. Harvest would be thin this summer.

Boromir looked up, and saw Tiaru waiting. With a brisk smile, he waved his advisor in as he put the scroll away and signalled for the doors to be closed behind them. Royal matters were always discussed in private.

"My lord," Tiaru greeted; he spoke so out of habit, of late, rather than out of respect. "I have spoken with the court officials who will be present at the palace to welcome King Éomer and his company when they arrive. The best stables have been cleared for the horses of Rohan, and the stalls decorated with banners."

"Very good." Boromir was pleased. "Spare no expense for the Rohirrim. It has been two winters since I rode to Edoras, and their hospitality was impressive indeed. Now that we are the hosts, I want their stay in Minas Tirith to be no less than exquisite."

"The dishes for the feast you have already approved," Tiaru continued. "Preparations are underway as we speak, and —"

"The elf," Boromir interrupted curtly; he missed the tension that tightened the expression on Tiaru’s face. "She must be magnificently arrayed for the feast — I would not conceal the living treasure of Minas Tirith from our honoured guests. Her and the others..."

Tiaru steeled himself before he gave a reply.

"That might not be the best course of action, my lord," he said quietly, his voice hard with an inscrutable emotion. "Perhaps it would be more prudent to excuse Rhavaniel from the dinner feast."

"Why should I?" Arrogance sparked in Boromir’s voice, and he regarded Tiaru incredulously. "Rhavaniel is a prize of our land, and I dare wager that no one in Gondor owns a possession as fair and beautiful as she is. And surely Éomer would have heard that we leased Ithilien in exchange for something of great value — greater than land itself, which men have been known to fight and even die for."

"Rohan has enacted no law legalising slavery in their lands," Tiaru said, in earnest endeavour. "They will not understand."

"The men of Rohan are warriors, Tiaru," Boromir said, a smile curling his proud mouth. "They are familiar with bloodlust, the use of force to gain what they desire — and most of all, they will understand the seductive power of dominion over living flesh."

From the impassioned tone of Boromir’s words, Tiaru could see the king felt every heated pulse of that twisted pleasure, which he spoke of with such praise; it made Ahis skin crawl.

The silence was strung with an unbearable tension; fired by the intoxication of taking without asking, the filthy heat of lust.

Finally Tiaru spoke. "How will inciting your guests to such jealousy contribute to their comfort?" He swallowed without meaning to. "There is much bitterness in yearning for what belongs to another. Surely that should not be our gift of hospitality to them."

"No doubt the foremost intention of this dinner feast is to celebrate King Éomer’s ascension to the throne — but of equal concern should be the enhancement of the status of Minas Tirith in the eyes of our royal visitors."

The wild glint was still apparent in Boromir’s eye. "Edoras still has not passed legislation on slavery in the lands of Rohan. Their royals have not experienced the pleasure of holding complete control over another being, the bending a slave to their will in any way they please. But tonight, they shall see how wondrous it can be to own a beautiful creature like my elf, and this will awaken a desire in them to have slaves of their own — but of course, never as exquisite as Rhavaniel or her fellows."

"Not all men are ruled by their physical instincts," Tiaru answered; his voice faltered almost imperceptibly. "However natural these may be in the presence of such beauty."

Boromir gave a short laugh. "Ah, noble advisor. I am aware of your choice to take no personal slave of your own..." he trailed off suggestively, " He grinned broadly. "Come now, we talk honestly as between two friends. Do I speak truly?"

Tiaru stared at Boromir with barely concealed disbelief. How the king construed his refusal to own a slave as a sign of his desiring wanton indulgence without restraint was beyond even Aragorn’s reckoning.

"No, lord," Tiaru replied, his tone carefully wiped clean of emotion to reveal nothing. "I choose not to hold a servant to my bidding because I see no requirement for such." Not entirely true, of course, but Tiaru had more shrewdness than to voice his loathing about a practice that the king so clearly relished. "The palace is abundantly served by capable workers, and on every occasion my needs are promptly fulfilled."

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

((Shall I continue?))

By the noise of the door which had been thrown open, Miriel woke up from a resteless sleep. There stood man in the room she had never seen before.
"Get up.. " he growled. "You have to be prepared. King Eomer will arrive soon"

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O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

((*Pokes Rhav* You going to post again?))

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[Is that bloke the bloke I wrote about? ]

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

(( What? Bloke the bloke?))

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

(umm? i'm kinda confuzeld...*_*)

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((Who's the guy that opened the door, Miriel, is what we're wanting to know ))

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(( ahh okay Well not Tiaru.. he much nicer. I think a guy in command of Boromir..))

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

[bloke= guy XD ^^ Right -thinks of something-]

The elf's eyes focused on the intruder, and something close to an emotion swept through the fierce orbs.
Her eyebrows shot upwards.
"If you belive we will prepare ourselves with you standing over us, I think you may find us ready."
"Get up." the man growled angrily, gesturing to his men standing in the corridore.
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An hour later in the bathhouse:

Rhavaniel carefully looked over the lash marks on her shoulders in the mirror, while she pulled on rich, and silken garments. Deciding to reserve some of her dignity, she tore the curtain shut again, as one of the handmaidens attempted to pass something through.
Her scowl would've halted a wild boar in its tracks.
When she had donned the clothes, she sat in a hardbacked chair, watching nervously as the women rushed about, -as it seemed to her- pulling her hair back roughly, and smearing oils into it.
It was pulled even rougher ever time she craned her long neck to catch a glimpse of her friends beyond a thin veil.
Where they enduring the same as her?

_________________



. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Miriel looked from Ilythiiri to the thin curtain and she knew for sure that she everything of her could be seen from the other side.
She let out a sigh and started to change herself quickly. Her finger ran over the long, white scars on her back, a constant memory of even darker times. As she switched her simple tunic for a long linen dress, sea blue tinted, Miriel saw it didn't cover her back. Nervously she brushed her hair golden hair which fell graciously on her shoulders, feeling like a hundred pair of eyes were fixed on her.

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

The elf stood in one gracefull movement, knocking away little bowls and ornaments that had been placed on her head, or on the rim of the chair.
There were heavy scowls from the women, yet she rebuked them once more in her own tongue, brushing past, adjusting the neck of her dress- or pulling it much higher than it lay currently.
She smiled at her friend through the veil, and stepped through to them.
"If I had children, I swear they would look like you two..." her voice seemed to echo in the small alchove; her eyes glittered with the light of the candles- and tears.

_________________



. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Ilythiiri swallowed hard. She was wearing a simple violet-colored dress that swirled around her knees, matching her striking eyes. Her wild tangles of blonde hair surrounded her dark face like a halo, and she looked lovely but her expression was frightened, even though she tried to smile. Unlike the other two, she bore no scars to remind her of dark times. She looked up at Rhavaniel, eyes very large, and said seriously, "You look lovely."

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"Bless you, little one..."
The elf said, wiping the moisture from her eyes, and looking rather flattered. She cupped Ilythiiri chin with her hand, and smiled through her tears.

_________________



. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

"Don't cry," said Ilythiiri quietly. "Your eyes will get all red." She sat down on a small stool, pulling at her dress, and gave a small smile. "I suppose if we have to do this, at least we can look pretty doing it," she said, trying very hard to think of something optimistic to say and not exactly succeeding.

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"You're both very pretty.." Miriel said softly. Her hand nervously reached for her back. Her eyes glinstered and her hands trembled.
"We will get through this.." she said finally looking up to her friends. "We will"

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.