The Yuletide Ball that Transcends Time and Space (Open)
Nov 14, 2017 13:42:00 GMT -5
Post by DENNY on Nov 14, 2017 13:42:00 GMT -5
[[SEEING AS WE EXPECT A VAST TURNOUT-- All residents of Arda mingling together... feel free to forgo posting order in this thread and move your characters as need requires.]]
Invitations had been sent out weeks ago; to all those who served the House of the Steward, from the armed Calvary and soldiers to the tailors and dressmakers, to even the farmers who allotted a portion of their grain to the palace kitchens. To any who wished to attend; or who could afford the appropriate attire to attend. It was a tradition from years past; even the Stewards preceding Denethor II and Ecthelion had held the event. The ball and feast of Yuletide. Upon a look within the Palantir, Denethor had last minute changed his plans. The call of distant places, and far off peoples… perhaps… well perhaps he should extend the invitaion this year. He set his scribes to work writing invitations. All of Arda was now to be invited! Messages went up and down the Anduin on his fleets of ships, messengers rode north and south, from the Ered Luin to Esgaroth, from Rohan to Belfalas, Near and Far Harad. Even a single messenger on a suicide mission rode toward Barad-dur. The Dark Lord himself would be invited to this Yuletide feast.
The great stone hall was changed tonight. Where usually stood open walls and white echos; tonight was filled with elegant decoration, holly and ivy bedecked the archways, and the scent of delicious feast. Mistletoe hung throughout. Lights and music resonated from the high ceiling, and the guests were already beginning to arrive. Lord Denethor sat at the head of the hall in the great black Steward’s chair, beneath the empty white dais of the king who did not reign. The attendant in charge of the arrangement of music for the evening had approached, but the Steward did not notice, lost in his thoughts as he often was.
“My Lord…” he said, after perhaps a minute of noted silence on the Steward’s part. Denethor’s attention seemed to snap, and he looked sharply at the man, as if having drawn him from an important conversation. Denethor did not answer, but stared deeply at the man, and eventually the arranger continued. “The musicians are ready to begin their pieces, shall I have them start?” The Steward looked beyond the man to the edge of the room where the musicians had been warming up. Music… yes, it is drawing near to begin isn’t it? Denethor was thinking to himself, and lost track of the man standing in front of him once more.
The Lord’s lips curved upward for a brief moment; a look that the younger man had never seen before. Denethor was lost though for an instant in thoughts of a tall young woman; with lovely dark hair and grey eyes. Finduilas. He recalled winters past, at the start of his reign. She had been utterly enchanted at the thought of the music and dance. For some hours her longing for the music of the sea had been lifted, and Denethor’s responsibility had shifted to the back of his mind; and the young Steward had laughed the evening away with her.
“My Lord, shall I instruct the musicians to proceed?” The messenger had waited for some moments before returning to the question, anxious in his own accord that the Steward would be displeased if the events did not start on time.
Lord Denethor’s spirits broke once more. His smile returned to an expression of noble neutrality. “Yes… have them proceed.” He took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure; Finduilas still on his mind. She had always enjoyed this event. The people of the city deserved such an evening; especially in dark times such as these. Finduilas would have been pleased had he displayed an even countenance among their guests. “Extend my pleasure and thanks to the musicians,” the Steward continued, then gave the arranger a nod, dismissing him to his duty.
Even the serving woman wore smiles upon their faces and were chattering excitedly together as the waited at the edge of the room for the remainder of the guests to arrive. Nobody would strip them of their duty or reprimand them for it tonight. The remainder of the lights had been lit, and it seemed that only moments had passed before the bright music had begun.
Denethor would remain seated in his chair tonight, at the head of the hall, and observing all of the events; though even in his melancholy state, he would find some enjoyment. He rested his chin upon his hand, leaning on the side of his great chair. His sons, at least, should take some pleasure in the event. They were well instructed in dance; and even as Captains in the great army of Gondor, they enjoyed music. Finduilas had made sure of such. The people of Dol Amroth had always been inclined in manners of music; and his wife more than most. He would enjoy watching his young sons take pleasure in dancing with the ladies in their colorful gowns.