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Adventures in Lebennin
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Author:  Miriel [ June 12th, 2007, 12:23 pm ]
Post subject:  Adventures in Lebennin
Preview

Ah…the days of peace at last! The war of the ring is long over, and the fourth age of middle earth sets in, the golden age it is called by many, except by the citizens of the city of Lebennin. Hundreds of orphans are living in the streets, having nowhere to live after the news of the deaths of their fathers, who were soldiers in the war. King Elessar donates money to the city to build an orphanage, but the orphanage is extremely incompetent and chaotic. Arwen, the queen, feels compassion for the orphans and the overworked asylum volunteers, and goes to help them…but experiences more than she bargained for when she meets the rambunctious children, the dedicated but thoughtless workers, and a bitter little girl named Abigail with a sad story behind her. Read on to see how the Evenstar of Rivendell learns to manage!
Author:  Miriel [ June 12th, 2007, 12:25 pm ]
Post subject: 
Chapter one: An Answer

Anna rushed in the door, her auburn hair flying in her face, her grey-green eyes filled with panic. “Amelia, dear, I am so sorry for being late, but everything has been going wrong today!” she called, setting a bag down by the door, her eyes wildly searching the crowded kitchen for her chief servant. “Have you managed alright without me?”

Amelia, a young blonde girl with a blue apron tied around her waist, entered balancing two crying babies on her hips. “Everything is going as usual, Miss Anna!” she called, using her foot to nudge out of her way a small wooden table covered with bowls of unfinished and slightly spilled porridge. “But the east room children have not been fed yet, and I locked them in their room until they would make up their minds to get dressed, they have been so troublesome today! But if you will give these babies to Sara to feed, I will go and get the rest of the bread out of the oven and feed those children upstairs, since there is too much of a mess down here. Two of the boys got into the pantry and ate up all of the sweet cakes and most of the fruit, so we will have to send Sara to get more tomorrow!”

“Oh, thank you, darling!” sighed Anna, filled with relief, taking the hungry infants from the girl. “I knew I could depend on you. Have the other girls dressed and fed the rest of the children, then?”

“Yes, they are all in there,” said Amelia, nodding toward the next room, where all of the noise issued from. “I’m afraid the teacher is ill,” she sighed, hurrying to the oven and retrieving several loaves of bread, stepping over several cloth dolls on her way. “So there won’t be any school today, and this has made the children even more energized than usual! We will just have to send them outside and let them run it all off. But there is a problem: Abigail will not get out of bed again today.”

Abigail was a shy and quiet little girl, only five years of age, with soft wavy blonde hair that reached her shoulders, and big sky-blue eyes from which it always seemed to the ever-busy Anna that a tear was about to fall, but never did. “Poor little dear,” muttered the head mistress as she climbed the stairs, having been relieved of the two babies by Sara, another asylum volunteer. “Losing her mother when she was three, and then losing both her father and brother in the war like that, and then her aunt abandoning her to live in the streets-in the streets! And her only five years old. Life is simply cruel.”

“Abigail, dear!” she whispered, softly tiptoeing down the long row of beds to a supposedly sleeping little form in the corner. “Won’t you get up and come downstairs with your friends?” When there was no answer, Anna went straight up to the bed and looked down at Abigail, who, to her anxiety, was lying on her back, looking straight up at the ceiling, without speaking.

“Oh, you poor dear little child!” cried Anna in her hurry. “Won’t you come downstairs and eat? We are going to play a lovely game today!”

Abigail, without moving turned her eyes toward Anna. “I am not a poor dear little child,” she replied, in a chilling voice that worried her mistress even more. “And I will come downstairs when I wish.”

Anna sighed, and with a few more parting invitations to join the other children, she hurried back down the stairs to attend to her duties, shaking her head and muttering her worry for Abigail to herself.
************************
A breeze catching her long dark hair, a beautiful queen wrapped her gray cloak tightly around her and entered the palace garden. Standing under a bower of roses, she breathed deep the wonderful fragrance of the flowers she and her maids had planted themselves. She preferred the early morning, when all was quiet and peaceful, to go into her garden to sit and think, or to write poems and songs.

She was Arwen Undomiel, once the Evenstar of Rivendell, and once a high elf, and she had forsaken her immortality for her true love, a mortal man. As her family and friends, the high elves, sailed for the undying lands, she had stayed behind to marry Aragorn Elessar, now the king of Gondor.

But today her thoughts were not bent on writing, but a letter she had seen that was written by Vilandir, a friend of her husband’s, concerning the latest news of his city. She carried it with her now, as the king allowed her to keep for him any letters that were not extremely important. A portion of it read:

You, my king and good friend, are to be heartily thanked for the gift of gold donated to Lebennin, and it has been put to good use. An orphan asylum has been built recently, to take in the sons and daughters of those whose mothers are dead and whose fathers died in the war. There are a number of such children, and they had been living in the streets before now, for there were too many for the townspeople to care for. They are now very grateful for a place for the orphans to live and to learn, and to grow. However, I am told that the building, though very fine, is full of incompetence and disorganization. It has an excellent school and a perfect teacher, yet, if I may say so, that is it’s only redeeming quality. Though there is plenty of food, the children are given whatever they wish to eat, instead of being put on wholesome diets. There are not enough workers to properly clothe and care for each child every morning, and so they often run wild and do as they please. Although it is not uncommon for young children to amuse themselves by creating their own play-things, they have so little to play with that they often amuse themselves by getting into mischief, quarrelling among themselves and at times even destroying things. The residents of our city are helping all they can, but more children are brought in every day, and Anna, the woman who is at the head of the asylum, is quite desperate for more assistants.

The reader of the letter put it back in her cloak and then seated herself on a low seat next to a bubbling fountain and rested her chin in her pretty hand and began to think, and the more she brooded over the situation in the city of Lebennin, the stronger her determination became. She carefully formed a plan in her mind, and then went to find her husband to tell it to him hoping he was not busy.

She did not hear or care about her two servants whispering to one another as she hurried to the palace gates. No one in that country was better taken care of or as contented as she. Many of the residents of Minas Tirith (except for Aragorn) seemed to think of her as a living doll, to grace the world with her beauty and be given every pleasure and gratification in the world simply for being beautiful and sweet, and for keeping her health and youth, though she had lived much longer than any visitor to Gondor would dream. Now that she was a mortal, as queen she began to see more and more of the unpleasantness of the lives of the common people, and the two whispering servants wondered if she had been sheltered even more than she realized, and was too unaware of the real world.


She met her husband at the gate, watching his sea-green eyes light up as they always did when he saw her. “Good morning, early bird,” he said to her.

“Good morning, dearest,” Arwen smiled. “Are you very busy? I have something important to speak with you about.”

Aragorn nodded. “Of course I am not too busy, anything for you, darling. Come into the library; we will talk there.”

The two servants sighed. After their conclusions earlier that morning it was becoming more and more evident that they were right. Even Arwen doubted that her husband believed she needed to discuss something very important. Of course, he knew she was wise; together they had been through far too much for him not to believe that; but perhaps even Aragorn might unconsciously believe that in these days of peace his queen had become innocent and naïve, as she was at the age of nineteen, in the early days of her old home, Rivendell.

Arwen followed Aragorn into the quiet room he had always kept locked because all of the important books and old writings were kept there. Arwen then took out Vilandir’s letter and explained to him how the needy children tugged at her heart, and how eager she was to do something for her country.

“I can not bear to think of the children of the men who fought in the war going uncared for and those poor attendants attempting to manage such a large orphanage,” she explained. “And-”

Aragorn appeared shocked. “Arwen, you cannot be thinking of going and volunteering to work at the orphan asylum. Such a beautiful and gentle creature as you should be living at ease in Minas Tirith and would not belong in a rough place such as that. Do not worry about the orphans; I will send them more assistants.”

“But I want to go myself,” Arwen insisted. “I am weary of ‘living at ease in Minas Tirith.’ I am getting to be as petted and spoiled as a kitten. This would be a perfect opportunity for an adventure. My mind is made up; do I not have your approval?”

The king sighed. “You are right, of course,” he answered reluctantly. “I only did not wish to be parted from you for so long. If you sincerely wish to go, then you have my approval. How long will you stay?”

“I suppose until they have enough control over the situation,” replied Arwen. “I am sure it will not be too long. Please do not worry about me, dear, I will miss you as well, but I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“I will always worry,” Aragorn smiled. “I certainly hope you will be safe. But do you need anything from me? How will you get there?”

Arwen then explained that she planned to ride in a simple cart, and disguise herself in middle-classed clothing so that no one would suspect she was the queen, but treat her normally. She also wanted to be known by an alias, perhaps one of her many elven names.

Her husband, hearing these plans, clearly did not like the idea of Arwen being treated less importantly than she was, yet deep down Arwen could see that he was amused, and also amazed at her sense of adventure, and was perhaps remembering his ranger days, under the name of Strider: and he agreed to Arwen’s plan.

The beautiful elvish queen immediately set to work preparing for her journey to Lebennin. She had to restrain herself from taking several costly and beautiful things that would have given away her true rank. Aragorn bought her the cart and several plain dresses such as their own servants wore, and to his surprise she was quite pleased with them. Arwen also included painting and drawing articles, and a several story books and small musical instruments to give to the orphans. When she was finally convinced that she was equipped with everything she needed, yet not so much that some would suspect she was richer than she appeared, she kissed Aragorn goodbye, said goodbye to her friends, and set out for Lebennin. Aragorn sent Vilandir a message saying he would send more helpers, and he sent a small group of girls who were not part of his household so they would not know Arwen to help at the orphanage as well.

Filled with a strange excitement and anticipation Arwen searched her memory for the perfect name to use once she reached the city of Lebennin.
Author:  Lady Elenriel [ June 12th, 2007, 2:36 pm ]
Post subject: 
Wonderful story Miriel. The plot sounds very interesting, and your first chapter is well written. I can't wait to read more! :-D
Author:  Miriel [ June 12th, 2007, 4:29 pm ]
Post subject: 
Aw, thanks, Elenriel! :)

Chapter two: Queen Aranelle

As Arwen neared the gates of the city of Lebennin, she felt rather frightened because she was still unable to think of an alias. Every elven name she could think of she feared might too easily give her away. Finally she decided on Aranelle, only for lack of a better, for Aranelle was not a common name of that age; but she felt sure no one here in south Gondor, far from the countries of the elves of old, would suspect anything about the name. Satisfied with the alias Aranelle, Arwen relaxed and let her driver take over, and she settled down and closed her eyes to get a little sleep.

It was late in the afternoon when the disguised queen arrived at the orphan asylum. She knocked at the front door and it opened instantly. A rather chubby woman with auburn hair and grey-green eyes and looking completely exhausted asked eagerly, “Hello, are you the new volunteer?”

“Yes, my name is Aranelle,” Arwen smiled cheerfully. “Are you Miss Anna?”

“That is me! Oh, bless you, child! We dearly need more help-but-”

Arwen winced inwardly as the woman stopped, taken aback by Arwen’s beauty, and curiously inspected her face with a slight sign of recognition. “Why…why would you want to work here? You’re so young and beautiful, child! You don’t seem to me to be hard up for a job. And yet you look so familiar…it seems that I have seen-”

“Is it quite manageable for me to board here?” Arwen asked quickly, pulling her old cloak closer around her face.

Miss Anna’s eyes sparkled again, absentmindedly forgetting about the strange name and the strange visitor in her eagerness. “Oh, bless you dear, there’s plenty of room here!” she answered cheerily, standing aside to let her new volunteer in. “Come right in! When you reach the top of the stairs ask Sara to show you your room…Aranelle. What an interesting name! Rather hard to pronounce…” Anna then disappeared into the kitchen.

“Aranelle” started up the stairs but paused when she heard Miss Anna and another young girl’s voice conversing below.

“What were you trying to do, mistress?” cried the girl. “Cause her to change her mind? We need as much help as possible!”

“Of course not, Amelia, dear,” Anna answered. “And we’ll put her to work right away, no fear. She does not quite know what she is getting into, and that is a fact! I only wondered why she chooses volunteer work here when she could be anything, and marry anyone she pleases.”

“I wondered that, too,” Amelia admitted. “She walks so gracefully, and with her head held high, as if she believes herself to be a great lady. Perhaps she is a young widow, and was married to a great warrior of Minas Tirith, only he died in the battle and she was so heartbroken that she came here to try and forget! Wouldn’t that be such a lovely romance? And under our very roof!”

“Amelia, you silly girl!” laughed Anna. “Keep to your duties and do not fill your head with such nonsense!”

Arwen continued up the stairs, smiling inwardly at Anna and Amelia’s ignorance of the facts that she was quite happily married, and had already had quite a life, and was in no way a young girl looking for work. She now realized that she was going to be treated as a very young person, because of her looks, but she didn’t mind. Her maturity and wisdom, though not guessed, were still there, and this was all that mattered to her.

When she reached the top of the stairs she looked around with uncertainty, until a door near the end of the hallway opened, and yet another asylum volunteer appeared; only this girl was much younger than Amelia, appearing to be no more than fifteen. Arwen felt rather sorry for her, because she was able to see deep into Sara’s brown eyes past the blank stare, that this was the girl’s only life, and she knew nothing more. She longed to reach out to her and teach her; but maybe they would both be too busy caring for children.

“I suppose you are Sara?” she asked the brunette, as the girl halted in her tracks, and gazed with amazement at the fair newcomer, a reaction which Arwen was already becoming use to in Lebennin.

“Yes-yes, I am,” Sara faltered. “But you-I mean-begging your pardon, but who are you?”

“I am-that is, Aranelle!” said Arwen, and unable to contain herself any longer she laughed. “I am the new volunteer Vilandir sent word about. My main intention is to help with the orphans, but I hope that you and I will be friends as well!”

Sara continued to stare, as if unable to comprehend such a thing. “Why, thank you,” was all she could manage. “I will show you to your room.”

Queen Aranelle was relieved to finally be alone in her room, which was small compared to her quarters at Minas Tirith, but perfect for her new self. She was very tired after her journey and planned to rest for the evening, and begin her work fresh the next morning. She knew she would have no trouble awaking early, for that had always been her habit, which would undoubtedly prove convenient for her new job.

Arwen settled into her new room, unpacking everything and setting her silver clock (the only costly thing she planned to display here) on a stand next to the bed. She had been resting on the bed, surveying the beautiful view from the window, when she heard a soft crying directly on the other side of the wall. “My imagination must be playing tricks,” Arwen reasoned, but cautiously she listened again, and again heard the child crying. It was so quiet that it could barely be heard, but Arwen’s quick ears caught it. Instantly she sprang up, hurried out of her room and went into the next, determined to discover what the child was crying about.

She found herself in the east room, full of bunk beds, all rather tousled and untidy as if no one had bothered to make them that morning, and it seemed to be quite empty, until she saw the bed in the far corner that Anna had stood by three days before. There lay Abigail, her cold blue eyes turned upward, as if she neither knew nor cared that someone else was in the room.

“Hello,” said Arwen to the tiny night-gowned figure. “Did I hear you crying, dear?” There was no response. “If you would rather not speak of it then I will leave. But if you need to tell someone your troubles…I am here.”

The child seemed to waver, at hearing this new and understanding voice, but she turned calmly to Arwen. “I was not crying, and I will not tell you anything,” she replied in a cold and stiff voice that did not belong to an ordinary child. “You would not understand. No one here does. They do not know what it is like to lose a mother, and neither do you!” With that, she angrily turned on her side and faced the wall.

“Yes…yes, I do,” said Arwen softly. Unfortunately this unpleasant reminder touched a nerve deep inside her and without thinking she added rather sternly, “And you should not treat people so rudely when they only try to befriend you.”

She felt extremely sorry the minute she had spoken this, but all the icy chill left Abigail’s eyes and she sat up, staring in amazement at this new approach. “Who are you?” she asked in wonder. “None of the other girls here speak to me like that. They all call me a poor little dear and feel sorry for me, and they try to take the place of my mother. That is why I would rather go hungry then go downstairs with the rest of them. They treat me like a baby, and they don’t believe I know anything.”

“My name is Aranelle, and the others do not mean any harm,” Arwen explained. “They can never take the place of your mother, or understand how you and I feel when we lose someone we love, but they did not have to take you in, and you should be grateful for their kindness.”

The child appeared to be considering this thoughtfully. After a pause Arwen asked gently, “Won’t you tell me why you were crying, dear? Perhaps I can help.”

Abigail sighed, and nodded. “I would never want to keep a secret from someone like you, Miss Aranelle. I think that I can trust you, so I’ll tell you everything.”

Arwen smiled, and sat down on the edge of the bed, and listened to the child’s tale.

“My name is Abigail,” she began. “And I used to live with my mother and father here in this town. My mother was so pretty and kind, and she used to sing to me every night when I went to sleep. I was only three when she died, and so no one believes that I even remember her, but I do! I remember her voice, and her lovely golden hair. After that my father’s sister, my aunt Laura, came to live with us to take care of me during the day. She didn’t like me, though, because she said I looked and acted so much like my mother, and she did not like mother. My father told her not to, but she was always telling me that my father never should have married someone so poor, and while my father was there my aunt treated me well, but when he left she never stopped telling me that I was good for nothing, like my brother. I never knew my brother, because my father sent him away when I was only two years old. Father was angry with him for becoming a soldier and he had told my brother to go and let his precious country support him, and he never came back. But when the war began, my father took me aside and told me everything. I cannot remember what he said my brother’s name was. It was hard to pronounce. But my father told me my brother had loved me, and didn’t want to leave me. My father apologized for sending my brother away, and he said he had to go off to war for the same reasons as my brother’s.” The girl gave a small, sad sigh. “He promised that he would bring my brother back home and we would all live happily together after the war. But later,” she added, her voice catching, “My aunt and I received a letter that said they had both been killed, and my aunt left to go and live somewhere alone, telling everyone I had died of a fever, and left me in the woods by myself. I was so sick that I didn’t know what was happening, but when I awoke here Miss Anna told me that some hunters had brought me here to the orphan asylum. She made me tell her everything, but I wouldn’t say much, only how my father and brother died and that I had no family.”

Arwen sighed, feeling the child’s pain. “It sounds as if you have been through quite a lot for such a small child,” she remarked, after some silence. “But you can begin your life over here. This is a very good place, and you ought to be good and learn all you can, until you are old enough to leave and perhaps marry, or until someone wishes to adopt you.

“I know,” Abigail agreed. “I’ll try. And I think that I will like it here, as long as you are here. Will you stay forever and ever?”

“I don’t know,” Arwen answered quietly. There was a pause. Downstairs a short clanging could be heard, followed by the noise of loud excited voices.

“That’s the dinner bell,” said Abigail. “But I usually don’t go downstairs when the rest do. I stay here until Miss Anna comes in and begs me to go down, and then she brings me something to eat on a tray when I don’t go.”

“Perhaps it is time for a change,” Arwen suggested. “Will you come downstairs with me?”

Abigail agreed, but not too reluctantly, and the two hurried down the stairs. Abigail tentatively took a place at one of the little girls’ tables in the large dining room. Arwen stopped in the doorway and looked around in disgust at the chaos. Sara was nowhere to be seen, but Miss Anna, Amelia, and another girl about Amelia’s age were the only ones in control, or rather, as Arwen perceived, out of control.

“Timothy, come back here!” shouted Amelia, running in circles chasing a tiny boy, who was knocking over everything in his way.

“No!” wailed the boy, still running frantically. “I will not eat! I don’t like chicken!”

“Oh, yes, you do, you silly boy!” Amelia snapped, ineffectively. “You won’t even try it!”

“Amelia!” Arwen called, remembering the voice she had heard fantasizing earlier that day. Amelia stopped and turned in surprise to Arwen, questioningly.

“You and your friend-” the latter concerning the other girl, who had straight dark hair and snappy black eyes, and did not look as if she was able to smile, and was exhibiting behavior similar to Amelia’s. “-go into the kitchen and finish preparing the food and help Miss Anna bring it out. I’ll manage the children!”

Amelia gave Arwen a look of disbelief as if to say, “Gladly! But you are foolish to think that you could try!” She said something to the other girl, and they disappeared into the kitchen, closing the door with a decided bang.

Arwen summoned every ounce of her skills of leadership, supervision and command, and commanded, “Everyone quiet!”

For one quick moment the little ones turned in surprise at this new worker, so tall and beautiful, her dark grey eyes so stern, and her voice so full of power and confidence. She was a far cry from the scolding young maids who never meant what they said, and who chased each individual child around until they were tired out.

Arwen grasped at the quick second of silence. “The one who is sitting in their seat more quietly than any of the others will get their food first!” Her words produced enormous results, because the shy children who were already in their seats sat up quickly, folding their hands in their laps, and the ones who had intended to play a game of chase before sitting down were now scrambling to their seats, and soon sitting quietly and orderly. “Very good, everyone! Now let’s see how long we can all stay like this.” Arwen opened the door of the kitchen.

“Why, how did you manage this?” gasped Anna, entering upon the scene and nearly fainting at how quiet and well-behaved the children were being.

“I…don’t know,” answered Arwen, being almost as surprised herself.

“Thank you for being so good, children!” Anna announced with pleasure. “Now I want all of you to know that we have a new volunteer worker that will help take care of you. Her name is Miss Aranelle, and I think you are all going to have a good time with her and obey her! Right?”

“Yes, Miss Anna,” they agreed in unison, still rather in awe of the newcomer. Anna brought in several plates of boiled chicken, while Amelia carried in the other dishes. Arwen and the still unknown volunteer began to pick up the plates and forks that had been knocked off the tables and set them neatly in front of the children, and then helped Anna pour milk for all of them. When every child was eating contentedly, Anna, Amelia, Arwen, and the other girl ate quickly at a larger table, and told Arwen to eat with them. “I will in a minute,” replied Arwen, and approached Timothy, who was still standing in a corner, pouting.

“Timothy,” Arwen called. “Don’t you think it would be best if you ate supper, so that you won’t be hungry tonight when you go to bed?”

“I don’t want any supper,” he insisted, though it was apparent that he was weakening.

“But have you ever tried chicken?” she asked.

“Noooo…” he admitted. “But I don’t like it.”

“How will you ever know if you like something if you will not try it? You will never grow properly if you do not eat good food. Won’t you try it… for me?”

Arwen led him to his seat, and waited for him to try a bit of the tender white meat on his plate. He tasted it, and then shrugged his small shoulders, saying, “It isn’t very bad.”

“You see?” said Arwen, smiling triumphantly, and she went to sit down and eat with the others, while Amelia continued to stare at her in amazement. She had never been able to persuade the boy to eat anything that he had taken it into his head was unpleasant, and had always found something else for him to eat when he had refused long enough.

Supper had been served so late that it was beginning to grow dark when everyone finished eating, and though Arwen was a little tired, she longed to explore the building and see all of the rooms. First of all, though, she wanted to meet all of the other volunteers, simply because her curiosity was overwhelming her.

“Aranelle, dear,” Anna said to her when the children had all left the tables (Arwen could see that she was in the habit of addressing everyone in that way). “I see that you have a way with children. Our dining room has never been so orderly and organized before, and I am rarely ever able to get Abigail to come downstairs. I see that you will be of some good to the child.”

“It is no trick of mine, Miss Anna,” Arwen explained. “This group of children you have happens to be the competitive type. They are eager to contest each other in everything, so all you need to do is make a contest out of it, and they will rush to do it.” Then she added carefully, “That is not the best method for one or two children if they are your own, but you must always use it for a large group or you will never be able to control them.” How Arwen came to know so much about caring for children was quite a mystery to Anna.

“Yes!” said Miss Anna, brightly. “I see what you mean! But I cannot find Sara anywhere, if you see her will you just tell her that we need her help in the kitchen, that’s a dear. Darling, why don’t you take the children into the living room and just watch them for a while, and Amelia and Annabelle and I will go and clean the kitchen.”

“Perfect,” Arwen smiled, now knowing Amelia’s dark-haired friend was named Annabelle. She felt sorry that she had chosen a name so similar to another volunteer’s that her mistress might soon confuse the two. As Miss Anna had told her she rounded everyone up and told them to make two straight lines behind her, one for the boys, and one for the girls. Unfortunately this simple request confused them and they began to argue. “The girls line up here!” said Arwen loudly, motioning to her left. “And the boys line up here!” motioning to her right. “Now let me see how straight your lines can be!” This worked, and they all followed her to the right of the kitchen door, down the hallway, and into the sitting room, following the mental directions Anna had given her.

As all the children dropped down in front of the fireplace, enjoying its warmth, Arwen told them that if they stayed quiet, she would bring them back her drawing kit and let them paint pictures, and that she would tell a story to whoever painted the best one.

Needless to say, her little charges agreed quite heartily to this plan, and Arwen hurried up the stairs to her room to get her drawing kit. It was in a sack under her bed, the colors, the paper, and several fine drawing articles, too fine, as Arwen realized anxiously. But she felt sure that children would not notice, and she hurried back downstairs.

Arwen smiled with pleasure as the little ones became engrossed in drawing their pictures. She walked around the table, praising each one, and when she stopped at Abigail’s chair she stood amazed. For the child was drawing her, Arwen, standing in the doorway of a palace, wearing a long flowing dress almost identical to the ones she sometimes wore on grand occasions at the palace. Despite its many imperfections she actually saw a resemblance of herself in the picture, and was amazed at Abigail’s talent.

Abigail smiled and looked up, pleased with Arwen’s attention. “I’m drawing you,” she explained. “I made you a queen because you’re so pretty you should be one.”

“It’s beautiful,” Arwen breathed, touched and flattered, and she made up her mind to tell them the truth about who she really was before she left.

“Is my picture bootiful?” a small boy, who Arwen recognized as Timothy, wanted to know, as he splashed violet-colored paint into the shape of an apple.

“Oh, yes!” Arwen answered truthfully. “Everyone’s pictures are beautiful.”

“I can’t draw straight lines yet, though,” he answered, flattered, as two adorable dimples Arwen had never noticed before appeared in his face.

“Well,” Arwen laughed, seating herself in a rocking chair as the contestants all handed her their paintings. “I really think everyone has won, you all drew such lovely pictures. So I suppose I will have to tell all of you a story!” She sighed, pretending this was a great task, as all of the children gathered delightedly around her in a half circle, waiting to hear the story.

Arwen fired up her imagination, and returned her mind to the old days. She related to the children a true story about Legolas the wood elf, and how he, as the prince of Mirkwood, had been charged to keep the evil creature Gollum in captivity, and how it happened that he escaped. At first several of the children appeared confused, as if being unacquainted with elves, but the rest grew pleased and excited, having loved tales about elves. Near the end of the story, all of the children wore smiles of eagerness, as if unable to wait to hear what would happen.

“So,” Arwen finished. “Legolas leaped onto his horse, and without looking back at the home he had known for so long he rode off to Rivendell. And that is the end.”

“No, no!” begged the children. “Tell us what happened when he reached Rivendell!”

“Not today,” Arwen answered. “It is a very long story, and parts of it are too difficult for many of you to understand. But the tale, in full, is in one of my books. Perhaps when you have learned to read I’ll let you all have it.”

“I’m going to learn to read as soon as ever I can!” Abigail announced determinedly.

As the children began to scatter, and to amuse themselves with other things, Arwen raised her head, and to her amazement she saw Miss Anna, Amelia, and Sara, who had apparently been found, peering around the corner. Arwen laughed inwardly at the thought of her “child’s” tale captivating the asylum workers. Anna and Amelia quickly scuttled off at her glance, but Sara paused for one moment to smile in Arwen’s direction. Her blank stare was gone, and her eyes were now filled with reflection, as if hearing about the past had opened her mind and set her thinking of what had passed before and what was to come.

After interacting with the children a bit, Arwen was glad when Miss Anna entered and announced that it was their bedtime. Anna would have liked to stay up later and talk to her some more, but by now Arwen was very exhausted, and she climbed the stairs to her room. Tomorrow she would tour the asylum, meet everyone, and visit the babies’ room. But when she reached her door she heard sounds coming from behind it. Someone was in her room! Arwen flung open the door. There, cringing on the rug with a stack of Arwen’s books in her arms, was Sara!

“I’m so sorry, Miss Aranelle!” she cried, terrified of Arwen’s steady stare. “But I couldn’t help myself! I only came in to dust the shelves, remembering how they needed it and I had forgotten to do it before you came. Then I saw your books on the shelf and I thought to myself, ‘Why, the story Miss Aranelle told to the children must be in one of those books’ and I did so want to know what happens next so I couldn’t keep myself from opening the books to find it and-and-“

“Sara, Sara, Sara,” sighed Arwen, pretending to be extremely annoyed. “I cannot have you in my room, searching through my belongings, and reading my books. So…”

Sara winced, wondering how she would be punished. “So,” said Arwen, her face breaking into a smile. “You must come to me and ask me first, and I will let you read them any time you wish!”

Sara gasped. “Me-but I couldn’t-I mean-oh, thank you, Miss Aranelle!”

Arwen could see that she could not escape being an honored lady no matter where she went, but she was pleased to know that here she was loved not for her high rank and riches, but for her helpfulness and partly for her beauty.

But if Arwen believed she had the orphanage under control, and would have no more trouble with anything, she was entirely mistaken.
Author:  Miriel [ June 18th, 2007, 12:10 pm ]
Post subject: 
Chapter three
Arwen awoke early, though later than she meant to because she had exhausted herself the night before. But she was very eager now to start the day, and she quickly got up and dressed, and went downstairs to help prepare breakfast. When she reached the bottom she shook her head with exasperation at the sight before her.

Though she knew it was not much later than seven, there were several boys and girls running about, playing with their toys, shrieking, and some were fighting over things. Some of them had attempted to brush their hair and/or dress themselves, but it was obvious that they were up and awake before the appointed time, and so no one had supervised them. Many of the children who liked to sleep later were still in bed, but the rest had habitually rushed downstairs and began to play to wake themselves up. The scene was perfectly described by Vilandir’s letter.

Arwen felt a strange longing for Vilandir, perhaps even for him to come and help her out there, because she knew he understood that there was incompetence, and he might be of some help. But she knew it would be foolish to ask him to do such a thing, when he was extremely busy with his own work as a town leader. He had given the king’s donation to Anna, and it was her place to care for the orphans. But the head mistress was not, though she tried her best. Arwen also wondered where the other girls, the volunteers that Aragorn had supposedly sent after her, were.

Arwen attempted to make herself heard, commanding the children to listen, but the novelty of being a newcomer was gone, and though a few of them looked up, as if to listen, after a few seconds they would turn away again. Arwen peered into the sitting room, and finding no one she strode angrily into the kitchen, and found Annabelle. Her long black hair was tied with a ribbon so it would not be in her way, and she was busy mixing dough.

“Who,” Arwen demanded, when Annabelle refused to acknowledge her, “Is supposedly looking after the children who insist on getting up at a ridiculously early hour to amuse themselves however they please?”

Annabelle looked up, and returned Arwen’s gaze with piercing black eyes. “I am looking after them,” she replied. “Miss Anna took Sara and Amelia with her to the market to buy more supplies. If you think they are not being properly looked after, go and look after them yourself. We have managed in this way since the asylum was built, at least on the days when only one person is in charge, and no one has suffered from lack of care.”

Anger welled up inside the queen, yet her anger was almost overcome by amusement that the girl did not know to who she was speaking to in that way.

“Annabelle,” she said gently. “This is madness. Young children can not look after themselves, and simply because no harm has been done does not mean no harm ever will be done if things continue on like this. I read a letter not long ago that stated you and the other workers needed help, and I see now that it is true. Please come with me, and we will round up the children and take them upstairs. They must be taught to make their beds in the morning, and dress themselves, and if everything is as it was yesterday, I know they have not even attempted these things.”

Annabelle’s eyes flashed furiously. “I will not come anywhere with you!” she snapped. “I must stay here and bake, if the children are going to have any breakfast this morning. An orphan asylum is no royal nursery, Aranelle, and you may as well accustom yourself to our ways instead of prancing about like the-like the wife of a knight!” She then whirled around and began to pour the muffin batter into several pans.

Arwen, too, whirled around and marched out of the kitchen. She certainly was not accustomed to this, nor did she ever intend to be. She marched upstairs to find Abigail, who was undoubtedly her only hope. She did not dare to go to the nurses that cared for the babies, though she was certain that Anna could not afford to have incompetent helpers in that area.

Arwen walked down the hall past all of the rooms, most of which contained sleeping children, but when she reached the east room where Anna and Amelia had grouped together all of the more “troublesome” children who liked to rise early, it was in just the state she had imagined. It was a gigantic mess. Pillows and blankets that were obviously meant to be on the beds had been thrown all over the floor. Dolls and toy animals that the boys and girls were unable to sleep without littered the floors and beds as well, and the beds were in the exact state they had been when the children had jumped out of them. Arwen began to feel overwhelmed. Only one bed still had someone in it; and that was Abigail’s. Forgetting that it was still a bit early, Arwen went straight up to her and woke her.

When Miss Anna, Amelia, and Sara arrived at the asylum with their loads of supplies, they were amazed to find that the toys had all been picked up, and the children were all seated at the tables calmly eating and drinking as Arwen, Annabelle and even Abigail served them. They also found that, with Abigail’s help, Arwen had convinced the children to make several valiant attempts to make the beds, and arrange their belongings in a way that did not make the room look as cluttered. The rooms were in no way perfect, but Miss Anna could see that now they were at least trying.

Annabelle was polite and sweet, but Arwen could see that she was fuming inside. Though it had taken a lot of hard work, Arwen and a five year old girl had begun to accomplish something that Annabelle had thought was impossible, and she was now a rival.

“Oh, dear Aranelle, you are a blessing, you hear?” Miss Anna gushed. “A blessing! Now I want you to meet our school teacher, Miss Gwendolyn. The children will be in her charge for the rest of the morning, so we will do what you wished last night, and take you all over the asylum, and you will also see the babies! Come along!”

As the head mistress hurried Arwen out of the dining room, Arwen exchanged quick smiles with the teacher. Arwen’s perceptive told her that this was a very kind and capable woman, as Vilandir had said. She had several volunteers with her as well.

Arwen and Anna went into the room next to the dining room which Arwen now discovered was the babies’ room. There were now more volunteer girls here than there were for the other children, because this, Arwen realized with annoyance, was where all of the new girls that Aragorn had sent had come to work. But she was glad; she could not bear the thought of those tiny babies neglected, or left in the care of Sarah or Miss Anna.

Many of the babies were younger brothers and sisters of the older orphans, while some had been taken there because no one wanted to care for them anymore. The youngest of them was not quite one yet. Arwen noticed a baby of about two years sitting on a blanket surrounded by toys, yet he was very upset and crying.

“What is the matter with him? Is he hungry?” Arwen asked.

“Oh! No,” answered Miss Anna. “They have all been fed already. Ciridan cries all the time, and no one is ever able to console him, except occasionally when he decides he likes a toy they give him. Come dear,” she said to the baby, bouncing him in her arms. “Can you say Miss Aranelle?”

“No!” came the answer.

“Oh, dear!” Anna sighed. “That is the only word he will say. Can you say, cookie?”

“No!” screamed the child, pouting.

“Can you say no?” Arwen teased. The result was an angry scowl, but the baby left off screaming and crying.

Arwen began to pity so many of the orphaned babies, that she wished she could take them all home with her, though she knew this was a silly idea. Yet Aragorn might say that she could do whatever she liked and adopt them all if it was truly her wish.

When Arwen started to leave the room, another scream was heard and she turned to see baby Ciridan, crying and appearing heartbroken that she was leaving him. She was now in a rather difficult place; one of the other workers went to him, but he cried harder, holding out his hands for Arwen. So she picked him up and began to rock him, singing a lullaby, though she could not remember how she knew it. Eventually, to her amazement, he was fast asleep, and she gently laid him on his bed and tiptoed quietly out with Miss Anna, who was becoming more and more amazed. But Arwen was quiet. Being near the babies stirred her thoughts and emotions, and she began to wonder if she would ever have children of her own.

When they were alone in the sitting room, Miss Anna sighed. “Aranelle, dear,” she said, in the way to which Arwen was becoming accustomed. “I want to ask you something. Forgive me for being so curious, but I would like to know who you are and how you are so skilled with children.”

Arwen thought for a moment, and then chose her words carefully. “I was raised far away, in the western lands,” she explained. “But after the war I decided to come here to live-in the city-where there were more people.” She swallowed. “As for knowing about children, I have none of my own. But I have cared for them from time to time.”

This brief summary did not satisfy her mistress, of course. “But are you married?” she asked.

“Yes,” Arwen answered quickly. “But I will say no more. May I see the rest of the place?”

Anna sighed. “Of course, dear,” she answered. “But there isn’t much to see; only the classrooms and the sleeping quarters upstairs, and we can look around at the yard outdoors if you wish. You may like a breath of fresh air.”

Miss Anna led Arwen all about the rooms upstairs, which were quite close to being neat and uncluttered after her exploits with Abigail that morning. Neither of the two said anything. Then Miss Anna led Arwen out into the yard. Arwen looked about, half-approvingly; it was a child’s paradise, but it was so messy. There were gardens, but they were hardly taken care of. Arwen watched with amazement as the wind took hold of two blankets and drug them through the mud. They had been hanging on the clothes line, but since no one had bothered to take them down, they had fallen off hours ago.

The two women continued on to the schoolhouse. Anna explained that school was in session by now, so it was necessary to remain in the entry way and only look through the windows.

Arwen saw that Vilandir had been right again; the school was perfectly organized, and there were so many volunteers that every child was kept under control, and everyone who needed help received it. She watched with delight as several of the children who knew how to read helped to teach the younger ones, and the smallest ones kept in a corner away from the rest of the class playing with some sort of clay. One of the volunteers was showing them how to make different shapes.

Anna was very quiet as she walked back to the main building, but Arwen was allowed to remain outdoors for a few more minutes. She took a short walk through the fields and trees and gathered herself together, trying to forget her loneliness and lack of someone wise or familiar to her. She was a stranger here.

When she returned it was long past noon, and she was met at the door by Sara. “Miss Anna told me to tell you that you are to meet Annabelle in there, so she can tell you what your tasks will be.”

Arwen winced. Sara seemed to read her mind, for she squeezed Arwen’s hand, whispering, “She does not seem to like you, but that is only because you are so tall and beautiful and successful. If you will only give in to her, and be her friend, she is not so bad!” Arwen had no intention of “giving in” to Annabelle, and she did not particularly wish to be her friend, but she humored Sara, giving her a quick smile as she went to speak with Annabelle.

Miss Anna and Annabelle were standing just inside the dining room. “Oh, you are back, Aranelle!” said Miss Anna brightly. “I did not know you would be gone so long. There are some things that I forgot to buy at the market today, and I need Annabelle to come with me. Perhaps you could discuss everything with her tonight when the children are in bed?”

“And I need to finish peeling the potatoes for supper, Miss Anna,” said Annabelle. “But if you will wait a little while longer, I’ll go with you then.”

“I’ll do it,” said Arwen firmly.

“Oh, are you quite sure you can manage it?” Annabelle’s asked scornfully. “It might ruin your fair hands.”

“I will do it!” Arwen repeated, forcing herself to stay calm.

“Oh, that would be most helpful, Aranelle, dear!” said Anna, relieved, and she hurried off, dragging Annabelle, who flashed Arwen a look as she went. Her black eyes clearly read, “You will not win.”

When Annabelle returned a quarter of an hour later, “Aranelle” stood staring dejectedly at the floor holding a wet cloth around her finger, which she had sliced instead of the potato.

Annabelle calmly walked toward her, without saying a word.

“I’ve never used a paring knife before,” said Arwen, though her tone did not imply that she was making an excuse.

Annabelle picked up the knife and washed the blood off with another rag. Then she stood looking at Arwen, still saying nothing, only waiting.

The two girls studied each others’ faces, each reading the pride and self-respect in the other. Then Arwen sighed, and burst out, with some effort, “Will you show me?”

“Yes.” Annabelle then let out her breath slowly, and she and Arwen exchanged friendly smiles as Annabelle picked up a potato.

All that evening and all the next morning everything went quite smoothly. Annabelle no longer hindered Arwen, but helped her and instructed her as Arwen began to realize that Annabelle knew more about smaller chores than she did. In turn, Annabelle began to listen to Arwen when the aliased queen gave suggestions about getting children to obey.

Sara said nothing to Arwen about it, but Arwen sometimes wondered if the soft brown eyes of the young girl were not laughing at her while Arwen and Annabelle worked together.
Author:  Erubadhriel of Lorien [ June 21st, 2007, 7:47 pm ]
Post subject: 
your story is amazing. you are a great writer!!!!
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