Masks

LOL, Sanrda! I had thought tonight, "Eh...maybe I won't update Masks tonight..." Then I sneak into Frosty's reviews to have a look and there you are telling me it's time. ;) So I guess I'll go ahead and not be lazy and do it. ;D Thanks for your persistence! *sniffle*

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The slim blond groaned as Alura jerked the laces of her bodice. She leaned against a table, her palms flat against the wood and her eyes shut. “I think that is enough,” she groaned as Alura pulled again. She let out an expansive breath, straightened and ran her hands over her skirts to smooth them. “It will be nice to get a decent meal tonight.” Their road rations had been tasteless and cold. Faramir had boasted the tables of Denethor were only dressed in the finest Gondor had to offer.

Alura sighed, not really feeling hungry. She was content having been bathed and changed, but socializing was not a top priority considering the company. Faramir was very kind, very attractive and honorable. There could be no denying that. Boromir, however, had been very quiet. He seemed to wear a façade of arrogance, but she wondered what sort of man truly lurked behind those stormy eyes of his. Whatever the case, he seemed keen on remaining an aloof mystery. Alura just didn’t feel up for having to deal with arrogance tonight. She needed this to be a positive place for her cousin to inhabit.

Éowyn turned from the mirror to regard her cousin. “Cheer up. This will be a chance to understand them. Tonight the Steward will reveal who it is I am to marry.”

“Then you can decide tonight whether or not to throw yourself off the top of the highest level?” Alura asked with a wan grin.

The Rohirric princess shook her head with a long-suffering sigh. “Must you turn this into an unpleasant affair? I am under a lot of pressure and…” She shook her head and crossed her arms.

Alura sighed softly and gave Éowyn a reassuring pat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this hard on you. Maybe…maybe this will be a good thing. Do you have a preference?” She shook her head and turned towards the mirror to fiddle with her hair. “Well, they both seem to have good traits. Either would make a fine husband.”

“Perhaps,” Éowyn said softly, tensing her hands into fists, then dropping her opened hands to her sides. “Do you really think that?”

It wasn’t until now that Alura realized how frightened of this future Éowyn truly was. She put on a good show, but her mask was starting to crumble. And what woman would not be afraid of marrying a stranger? Alura let a few thoughts pass through her imagination that caused her an uncomfortable anger, but pushed them aside. There was no use in building her emotions up to things that might never happen. Coming to stand behind her, the dark-headed girl looked into the reflection of blue eyes gazing back from the mirror. “I really think both of them seem nice in their own ways. Faramir is blatantly kind, you can see that. And Boromir…he hides, but I think…I think he would be a fierce protector. Who knows what may come of this?”

A shaky smile spread across the other’s lips as she nodded haltingly. “You are right, of course. I am being silly.”

“No, you’re being human,” Alura responded, shoving Éowyn playfully. “Even couples that know one another get cold feet. It does not make all marriages bad. Did our uncle not enter into an arranged marriage?”

“He did.”

“There. You see? He adored his wife.”

Éowyn turned around and her smile seemed brighter, more genuine. “Thank you,” she said, then straightened her skirt again. “We are going to be late if we do not hurry.”

“I have been ready. It was you that insisted on taking forever to select a dress,” Alura reminded her with a mockingly angry tone.

The blond laughed like a silvery bell and fidgeted with her hair. “Perhaps if you had been more discriminating you may have caught the attention of the brother I will not be marrying,” she suggested archly.

Alura knit her brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I am kidding, cousin. Come. Let us go and see what these Gondorians can offer.” Éowyn headed towards the door. Giving her dark forest green dress a glance in the mirror, Alura followed with a frown, trying to combat her cousin’s jabs. She knew that Éowyn needed something to focus on other than her fears, so the banter between them was no chore.

When they came to the great dining hall Éowyn inhaled and seemed to hold it as she straightened herself and entered. All eyes turned to their entry, watching as they headed towards the main table. Denethor remained seated, watching with that same cold, unreadable gaze. His sons were placed on the Steward’s right hand side, while Éomer and two empty chairs waited on the left. The young heir of Rohan stood and motioned his sister to his side. She made a brief curtsey to Denethor, then took her seat calmly.

Alura seated herself beside her cousin and returned a greeting smile from Faramir, then let her eyes wander the two brothers and their father. She wondered when Denethor would announce which of his sons would take Éowyn away. “Did you like your rooms?” Faramir asked her as Éowyn and her brother entered into conversation with Boromir.

A plate was laid before her, but she didn’t move to partake of it just yet. “The rooms are quite lovely,” she replied, taking hold of a goblet of wine set down in front of her. She took a drink and savored the biting fruit flavor that tingled down her throat. “Thank you,” she continued, noticing his interested look.

“I only wish for you to enjoy your stay,” he responded, raising his drink in toast, then drinking. “You both look beautiful.”

“My thanks, Lord Faramir,” Éowyn answered gently when Alura failed to respond. She smiled cordially.

Inwardly, Alura snorted at the weak beginning of their dinner. Everyone seemed to be so preoccupied in making this event seem natural that it turned out quite the opposite. She found herself unable to remain focused on anything but dinner consistently and despite her lack of hunger earlier, enjoyed that at least. Those around her made small talk. Both of the sons of Denethor seemed to pay the Rohirrim equal attention, making it a frustrating task to try and figure out which one was the intended. Denethor’s eyes betrayed nothing. It was as if he had no plans whatsoever, that the delegation from Rohan was merely a random visitation from distant travelers. He said very little the whole night through.

He remained silent on the announcement through the close of the meal and beyond, making her wonder if he was ever going to reveal which son he was going to marry off to Éowyn. As guests began to wander from the table to speak in private groups, Alura pushed back her chair. Her cousins were wrapped up in talking with the Steward, so she knew she was on her own. Standing, she headed off towards an archway leading outside. She parted the black curtains and saw the moon full and bright in the sky. An appreciation of the beauty before her brought a smile to her lips as she left behind the great feast inside and accepted solitude. There was a soft breeze that made her bring her arms together, but its gentility filled her with a soft calm.

For a time she forgot where she was, enjoying the landscape and the quiet. That time ended when a presence made itself known behind her at first, then at her side. “You escaped so quickly,” he said gruffly, resting his hands on the railing. “Lucky you.”

Alura gave him a look, then shrugged. “What business have I in the affairs going on?”

Boromir smirked and nodded. “I am sure your cousin will seek you out when the time is right, anyway. So, how do you like my city?”

“It is beautiful,” she said listlessly, pursing her lips and looking up into his glittering eyes. “I am sure you hear that every time someone comes here.”

He laughed at her statement, making her frown. “Minas Tirith is beautiful. It is astounding in the sunlight and alluring by the light of the moon. I love my home.”

“Well, I am glad you are so well adjusted,” she responded coolly.

“You do not like it here?” he asked lightly despite her tone.

Alura shrugged, reminding herself not to be rude without reason. “I enjoy it here.” She looked up, watching his eyes run along her. It made her uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t you be in there for the announcement?” she asked.

Boromir shook his head indifferently. “The announcement has been made. Lady Éowyn is now speaking with my father and her brother over the arrangements.”

His lack of the name of the intended suitor made her curious. She looked him over thoughtfully. “And the groom?”

“You would know if you had been there,” he retorted softly, but smiled to stave any offense. “It is I, of course.

“Of course?”

“I am the firstborn.” That answer was logical, of course. He was the firstborn and naturally would have the first shot at the throne and with that came the burden of bearing heirs early. Turning, he leaned back against the rail, folding his arms before him. A stray wind smoothed across them, ruffling his hair. He shrugged. “I knew my father would want it this way. He favors me over my brother.” That brought a bitter expression to his face.

“That bothers you?” Alura asked with an upraised eyebrow.

The elder brother frowned as if realizing he was revealing too much. “Family politics. Nothing that will interfere with how Éowyn fits into this family. Not if I can help it.”

“Do you like my cousin?” she continued with an interested look. He seemed tense and she wondered why.

Boromir gave her a weighing glance over. “She is a good woman, of that I have no doubt. She is fair. But I believe she is more suited to Faramir. They are the same, the two of them. I could tell that when first I spoke to her. But now it is left to me to carry the burden of marriage. It is something I never prepared myself for, even knowing that each day brought that duty closer to me.” He cocked his head as he looked at her. “And what of you? What do you make of this?”

Alura smirked at the question. She decided to reply honestly. “I think Faramir is more suited to her as well.”

That won her another laugh. He smirked. “And why is that? Am I too rough for her tastes? You would not be wrong.”

“You’re right,” she said with a smile, won over by his light mood. “I do think you’re too rough.”

“Some women like their men rough, though,” he said, moving a little closer to her. He reached up, tangling his fingers into her hair, letting the strands slip through his fingers.

Alura pulled her head away softly and shook her head. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, surprised by his gesture.

“Perhaps nothing.” He folded his arms again and inhaled the fresh night air deeply. Pushing himself from the railing, he nodded politely with a little glitter in his eyes. “Have a good night, Alura of Rohan.”

“You as well,” she replied, watching him go. Perhaps it had been nothing, after all. These people were of a slightly different culture, after all. But his touch left her feeling uncomfortable inside. Curling her arms around herself, Alura left the balcony and sought the quickest route to her quarters.

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