NationStates Jolt Archive

Agwene frowned as she paced up and down the aisle of the aircraft. The girl had been pacing since it was safe to do so, looking more than a little frazzled. "I'd like to try to find the Imperatrice myself. Set a course to..." Agwene pauses, thinking desperately. She has no idea where to even start.

"Your Imperial Majesty..." the voice belonged to Christian Caple, one of her top aids. The young human man sat with a laptop in his lap, looking at the screen with a rather severe frown.

"Yes, Christian?" Agwene forced her voice to be gentle, polite. It wasn't the boy's fault.

"We just got word, Your Imperial Majesty. War's broken out at home."

Agwene sighed heavily, sinking into her seat. She had her duty to her country. She knew, she really did know, that she had to return home to fight. Still...the thought of leaving a comrade in danger troubled her. It felt like there was a rather heavy weight on her shoulders.

"What shall we do, Your Imperial Majesty?" Christian asked.

The pilot stepped back into the cabin, having set the plane on autopilot. This was just the moment he had been waiting for. He smirked faintly to himself, ready to carry out his orders. "Christian, there's something in the very back compartment I'd like you to check out for me."

As Christian stepped into the back, the pilot bent under a seat, smirking at the High Queen who was not even looking at him. Right how he wanted her. Opening a small box beneath the seat, the pilot produced a cold iron bar. He walked quietly up to Agwene, bringing it down hard before she had a chance to react. As the iron touched the skin, steam came up off the girl and burnt patches of flesh were left behind. She screamed, flailing, but the iron had already beaten her beyond the point of effective resistance. Tears came to Agwene's eyes as she faced what might well be her last moments.

Christian, at that moment, came back from the rear. The pilot had thought he had sucessfully rigged the door to keep Christian in but his plan seemed to have failed. The young aid flew at the pilot, knocking him into the cockpit. After a few long minutes of exchanging blows, both men were panting and bloody. The autopilot had been knocked off by the accident as the men battled.

Meanwhile, the plane plummeted towards the sea. The pilot managed to barely pull himself to his feet long enough to edge the nose up, bringing the plane up hard. The landing on the water was rought but not as bad as most such affairs are. Water splashed around the plane as it hit.

Agwene managed to crawl to a door, slipping out with a small flotation device in her barely mobile, burnt hands. Neither of the men was so lucky,

Agwene lay still. Her skin, fair and gentle where it remained untouched, was badly charred and burnt over large sections of her body. Her raven hair is disheveled. She was athleticly built but short for a sidhe at about 5'6". Her natural sidhe aura, almost overwhelming at times, was still faintly present, though dim and faded.

She was lying in a soft, comfortable bed, in a luxuriously decorated room; there was a very soft hum/rumble noise in the background, almost inaudible. The room was ilght and airy, and seemed to be built off a medbay of some kind, though the room itself had a window, beyond which all that could be seen is blue sky and clouds. It angled inwards, likely meaning it was on an upper deck of the ship somewhere. Although Agwene would not know at first she was on a ship at all. Sitting in a chair by the bed was an astoundingly beautiful and very tall woman, in shimmering red and gold robes. Her hair was long and sun-golden, reaching almost to the floor in her seated position. Her eyes were a faintly-glowing crimson, and delicately pointed ears poked out of the golden hair.

Agwene slowly opened her eyes, giving out a small moan of pain and wincing faintly at the light.

The woman gently lay a hand on one of Agwene's more grievous burns, but there was no pain; she closed her eyes and seemed to whisper softly to herself. The words, though, escape memory, no matter how much Agwene might have tried to discern or recall them. A faint glow emanated from beneath her palm, and the burn slowly faded, leaving only clean skin in its wake. She had not noticed Agwene is awake; after the healing is complete, she drew her hand away again, recovering her breath. She seemed tired; she had likely been at this for some time already.

The actual damage to the skin seemed to fade at the touch of Elven Art but the overall impression of being faded and worn had only slowly diminished with time. She parted her lips and spoke in English. "Thank you."

The woman blinked, looking up, seeming a bit surprised. "You're awake," she responded, also in English; her voice was musical, flowing, elegant, though it had an almost imperial touch to the accent. "Your aircraft fell into the sea. It was fortunate we were passing by..."

Agwene closed her eyes again tightly and then opened them once more. "There was an assasination attempt. I owe you my life." She looked at the woman a little more closely. "You're...not sidhe, are you?" Her voice is weakened, less regal than it should be. She didn't sound like a queen. Her voice could almost be mistaken for that of a commoner. Almost, mind you.

Her rescuer certainly didn't sound common, either... but then, neither did the least of her people. "She?" she asked. "I'm not sure to whom you're referring." she seemed a bit perplexed.

"What I am. Sidhe. S-I-D-H-E."

"Oh," said the woman, understanding. "Sorry... no, I am not. I am Noldor. ...a sort of Elf. Now, hold still a moment..." She lay a hand on another burn, and cast her spell again.

Agwene smiled weakly as another burn vanishes. "Music would help more, lady."

The woman blinked. "Music?" she asked, again surprised. This girl had surprised her more than anyone she'd met in a long while, and in a shorter time, too. She'd expected Agwene to be full of questions, mostly about where she was... but she hadn't been. "Are you sure?"

Agwene didn't seem to have the strength for questions. While the damage to her body seemed to be healing nicely with Elven magic, her soul seemed faded, injured in a way that was hard to describe. "Absolutely."

"Might I know the name of the woman to whom I owe my life?"

"Sirithil." The elf smiled. "My name is Sirithil," she said, "and you are aboard the Menelmacari destroyer Star-kindler."

"Sirithil..." The girl ran the name over her tongue, trying to remember. Sighing lightly, she shut her eyes again briefly. "I'm Agwene, Agwene ni Gwydion. I'm the high queen of the Resurgent Dream. I was travelling from Devras when an attempt was made on my life. I am not sure by whom, though the attacker was a human male. He...he used iron." She said the word like most decent people would mention the very worst kinds of biological or chemical warfare.

"Iron? Does that? It looked like someone worked you over with a welding torch."

"Iron kills the soul, as well as the body." She looked up, studying Sirithil a moment. After a moment or two, she blinked and jerked up in bed. "Where's Nathi?" As soon as she sat up, she winced, clutching at her side and sinking back down with a whimper.

"Calm yourself, you're still weak... Presumably Nathi is back in Devras," Sirithil said. She hadn't read any intel reports yet today, so she didn't yet know about Nathi's unexpected trip.

"I just came from Devras. Something...happened. I can't remember. Were there any other survivors from the plane?"

"None," Sirithil replied, pausing to heal another burn, before continuing. "I'm sorry. Your plane went down on our sensors. We adjusted course to come to the spot, but the wreckage - most of it, anyway - had already sunk. There were a few small things bobbing on the waves, and you clutching a lifejacket and barely conscious. We brought you aboard."

Agwene took another heavy breath. "Would you sing for me, Sirithil?"

"Certainly, Agwene..." She began to sing, in the tongue of her own people... it was quiet at first, but her voice rose; she sang a song of old, a song of surpassing loveliness and radiant power, a song of love, and redemption, and happiness, and hope. Of springtime driving back winter snows, of the sun rising to end the night, of ocean waves and shining stars and victory of good against evil. All these things did Sirithil weave into her song.

For a moment, as the song went on, the sidhe literally seemed to glow very brightly. As the Noldor sang, Agwene began to grow stronger. One could simply see it. Not one additional scar healed; there was not the slightest change in her physical form. And yet there was a change as undescribable as it was unmistakable. Where, a moment ago, she seemed weak, almost common, now she gave the unmistakable impression of royalty, beautiful, imperial, graceful. She smiled gently at the Elf woman and sat up a little, not wincing this time. She shook her head, clearing it. "You're the Elentári, aren't you?"

Sirithil nodded. "Yes," she says simply.

She smiled warmly at the little (to her) sidhe.

Agwene just nodded, seeming quite self-possessed now, if still injured. "Where are we?"

"On my ship, Gilthoniel, as I told you already," Sirithil replied. She chuckled softly.

"Sorry," Agwene replied. "I'm out of it still. It will take a month or so to fully recover."

Human guards stand outside the Ministry of War Building, rifles at the ready. A small unit of sidhe officers, their leader marked in the silver and black of House Eiluned, approaches. The men snap to attention. "We're here to relieve you."

The sergeant arches a brow. "Sir, we have received no orders to that effect sir. This post has never been held by officers, sir."

The sidhe major shakes his head. "I am giving you your orders now."

Confused, the humans leave their post, heading back to their barracks to try and determine what strange happenings are afoot.

Similar scenes played out in front of the Ministry of Commerce, the Ministry of Agriculture, the Ministry of the Interior, the Ministry of State, and the Ministry of Labor. Eiluned sidhe officers stood outside the officers of every cabinet level department of the government, positioned on mysterious orders from high up the chain of command.

The high queen slides from bed and stands with a small wince. "Lady Sirithil nos Feanor, we are of course, immensely grateful for your aid and succor. It is good to see that there is still Light in the world. We thank Anu for the good fortune that brought you here, now. We offer the friendship of our people...and their queen." She smiles faintly.

Sirithil smiled. "Well, on behalf of both myself and the people of Menelmacar, I thank you, and accept your offer of friendship." Agwene grins a little, offering her hand. Siri accepts it, and shakes.

Agwene doesn't shake so much as squeeze, looking slightly confused a moment. "We will have to work out the details of relations at some point. Right now, I would like to get to know you and your people and tell you of mine. Unfortunately, I do not have too much time. There is war at home and I must go to my people."

Sirithil nods. "Then I'll have the ship alter course, and I will return you to your people."

"Do you know where it is?"

"I think I've heard of it... the helmsquendë will know, though."

Agwene nods. "Might I walk with you? I'd love to see more of the ship." She takes a step forward, stumbling slightly.

"Perhaps I should finish with your burns first?" Siri suggests.

"The burns are just the surface wounds. It will take months to heal inside, even with music and magic." Nonetheless, Agwene grudgingly lies back on the bed.

"The surface wounds are still wounds," Sirithil says, and she gently lays a hand on Agwene and casts her spell again.

"I'm sorry, Sirithil. I'm just..." she blushes a little, looking off "...just not used to needing help."

"Neither am I, Agwene," she says gently, moving on to another burn.

"I do, however, believe I would like to get used to the company." She smiles softly up at the Noldor.

Siri smiles. "Would you now?" she asks.

"Gwydion don't lie." Agwene smiles a little shyly. "Everything I said about Light, it wasn't just talk. Not many queens, especially queens of such large nations as yours is, if I remember my morning international affairs reports correctly, would personally heal a total stranger who, for all they knew at the time, could have been a simple stewardess. I think you're worth knowing, and more for your heart than your title."

At that Sirithil blushes a bit. "That's probably one of the nicest things anyone's said to me in a long time," she says.

Agwene just smiles. "Well, this is one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me. I hate needing it but...that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it greatly."

Siri smiles. "Well... I'm just glad I could help," she says.

Agwene squeezes the Star-Queen's hand a moment, smiling. "So tell me about the Noldor."

She smiles back. "What would you like to know?" She sits on the bed, next to Agwene.

Agwene reaches a hand up with a smile. "Where are your people from originally?"
S
"We came from a place far to the east, called Cuivienen," she says. "The sun and moon did not yet exist, so it was night all the time, but the skies were always clear and the stars were bright, and the water ran sweet." Siri takes Agwene's hand gently, and squeezes it a bit as she speaks.

Agwene smiles a little. "That sounds like a truly lovely place."

"It was," she says. "I'm old enough to remember it... but we later went someplace even lovelier... the Valar sent Oromë, their herald, to lead us into the West, to the Undying Lands, of Valinor, where they had built two great Trees that gave off gold and silver light."

"The Valar?"

"Well... the closest thing to them might be a pantheon of gods, yet they are not truly gods... simply Powers, set by Eru Ilúvatar in lordship of the earth."

"Like the Tuatha..." Agwene comments softly, squeezing the elf's hand slightly.

"Tuatha...?"

Agwene smiles slightly. "I'll tell you in a moment. It's still your turn."

Siri giggles, and goes on. "Anyway, Oromë led us into the west, but the march was long and difficult, and many of us turned from the path along the way... this spread our people throughout the world. But most of us, including the Noldor, made it to our destination, and lived in bliss under the Trees. The light of the Trees is still reflected in the light of my eyes."

Agwene meets Siri's gaze with her own. Her eyes are odd. It is not that they seem ancient. They do but Sirithil has doubtless met many beings with eyes more ancient than Agwene's. It is that they seem ancient as the world one moment and as young as a small child in the spring of the world the next and then the next they are simply the eyes of a girl of eighteen. They seem ageless, not in the sense of being of great age but in the sense of being of no age and every age at once. Agwene looks straight at Siri with those strange eyes, mouth opening, impressed. "It reminds me of dreams I have of Arcadia."

Perhaps ironically, Agwene would see much the same thing in the eyes of Sirithil. "Shall I go on?" asks the Noldo.

Perhaps she does but that's something she's seen a thousand times in the eyes of her people. The Light of the Trees...that impresses her. "Please."

Siri smiles, that perfect light shining in her gaze. "It was there that I wed my husband, Fëanor, and it was there that he crafted his greatest works, the Silmarils; somehow, he captured some of the light of the Trees within three perfect gems. In Valinor we learned many things from the Valar - I myself, along with Fëanor, personally learned many techniques of crafting and smithing from Aulë, the Vala whose domain was the earth, and who created the dwarves. Most of us lived in a great city on a hill, called Tírion, and some of us lived in other cities, and others wandered in the blissful lands of the undying West."

"What are dwarves?" Her own light, which comes more from the whole body than the eyes, shining a little as though reaching to touch Sirithil's

"Well... they're short bearded folk who live underground, and they're very fine craftsmen and warriors. And they are great friends of the Noldor... recently my military helped them regain their ancient homeland. That staff over there," she points to an intricate mithril staff, crowned with a great ruby, leaning against the wall, "is named Tauravandil, Mightstaff, and it was made for me by them in gratitude for Menelmacar's aid in their victory."

Agwene turns her head, looking at the staff. "Would you mind if I looked at it?" Sirithil nodded, and she reached for it, offering it to Agwene; there were powerful enchantments on it to prevent its use by anyone not of her line, but these enchantments were themselves Sirithil's work, and thus subject to her will. So, by her will, Tauravandil would be safe for Agwene to handle, at least for a little while. Agwene takes it gently, running her hand over the shaft. "It reminds me of True Silver but...not at the same time. This is stronger than steel, if I'm any judge, far stronger and...It's really quite amazing, Sirithil."

"True Silver?" Sirithil asks.

Agwene hands her the staff back, taking the Noldor's hand again when it's been replaced. "It is as hard as steel but has all the alchemical properties of silver. It is what lines the borders of the Waking World to keep the Fomorians and their servants from returning. It is also the only metal that can bind or harm a Fomorian. We have only what the Tuatha have left us and it is said that no being outside the Tuathan race might ever make True Silver, not with any art or magic."

"So who are the Tuatha again?" Siri asks, laying Tauravandil across her lap with one hand, squeezing Agwene's hand with the other.

Agwene pulls Siri's hand towards her lips, kissing the air directly above it without touching it, like a perfect gentleman, except a lady. "The Tuatha are the Children of Anu given dominion over the world by her. The Anu guided the mortal race in its infancy, serving as gods and guardians. They also fathered the fairy races of which the race of sidhe has the strongest strain of Tuathan blood. There came a time when Domnu, the Queen of Turmoil and Enemy of All That Breath, and her son, Balor of the Burning Eye, gathered their hoards of Nightmare and Shadow to seek to subjugate all the world beneath their heel, rallying the darker races of fairy to the banner of night. The foundations of the earth trembled and the firmament shook as the gods fought. On their own strength, the fomorians were triumphing as Domnu was the strongest being to come into the world my ancestors new. It was then that Anu herself gave a sign and a power to her children, calling forth the sun and the moon as great chariots of Light to ride forth against Darkness. When the Fomorians were vanquished, the Tuatha set guards around the Waking World of True Silver and then departed to a land beyond knowing, feeling that the time had come for their fairy children and human wards to learn to make their own way in the world."

"Who are the Fomorians?" she asks.

"The children of Domnu, the Lords of Evil, great spirits who serve only Darkness and hate all Light and Love and Honor in this world." She lowers Siri's hand again, smiling gently.

Agwene stirs a little, releasing Siri's hand. "But enough talk of darkness. You are a lady of light and a beautiful one, if I may be so bold. I know you need to go to the bridge to give orders but I would like it greatly if we could converse more afterwards."

Siri nods a bit. "I'd love to talk more with you," she says. "Here... I have one burn left to heal, I think... then I will bring you up to the bridge with me." She gently lays her hand on Agwene once more.

Agwene smiles softly, responding with affection to the touch this time, as well as with appreciation. "Thank you." She slowly rises, leaning forward and looking Siri in the eyes for a long moment.

Siri looks back at Agwene, and for just a moment strokes her hair gently. Then she gets up and goes to the next room, coming back with a robe. "Here, put this on... it's a bit more regal than that medbay tunic, but it might be a bit long on you. Suitable for the bridge, at least."

Agwene followed the Elentari onto the bridge, looking slightly odd, yet still regal, in the oversized robes, sleeves hanging down below her arms.

Sirithil couldn't help but (inwardly, of course!) giggle at Agwene dressed so, but led her to the bridge, going slowly so that the sidhe wouldn't trip on the hem of the robe, which was rather too long on her.

The bridge was a rather large room, even more opulently decorated than the rest of the ship, and was dominated by a huge holoprojector in the middle of the room. All about were arranged various consoles, with elven crew members manning them, and the front of the bridge was dominated by a vast window, outside which the sky was bright and clear. The holoprojector was currently showing a little model of Gilthoniel, and underneath it the undulating blue surface of the ocean, and underneath that, at the bottom of the sea, was represented the remains of Agwene's plane.

Sirithil offered Agwene a chair next to the large leather upholstered chair in the center, which boasted little control panels in the arms, and looked very comfy and seemed to hover. Sirithil leaned Tauravandil against a nearby bulkhead, and when she plunked down in the chair, it bounced gently in midair.

Agwene looked rather comical in her long robes, yet regal at the same time. It was sort of odd in a way but rather adorable. She didn't trip, somehow, though by all rights she should have. It might have been dumb luck or trained grace or it might have just come with that aura she seemed to radiate. She sat quietly next to Sirithil, surveying the bridge and its elven crew.

Sirithil looked over at Agwene, and asks her where in particular she'd like to go.

"Tarana," was the sidhe's answer.

And in Quenya, Sirithil gave her order. "Set course for Tarana, in the Resurgent Dream, with all possible speed." And almost imperceptibly, the ship began to move; in the holo, the ruins of the plane scrolled out of view and were gone. There was a northward turn, and Gilthoniel seemed to be set on her course.

Agwene glanced quietly to Sirithil before turning to watch the screen. "When we get a little closer, I'd like to call ahead. We must do something in your honor for..." She colored slightly, glancing off "...your help."

Sirithil smiled. "It was my pleasure," she said, "and you can call ahead now if you like. My office is through that door there; log into the comm as 'guest' and tell the computer who you want to call. The database will do the rest."

Agwene blushed a little. "Actually, Elentári..." she took care to give the woman her proper title in front of the crew, "...I've never actually used a computer before."

Sirithil blinked, again surprised, but smiled. "Come, then, I'll help you." She rose, and offered Agwene her hand.

Agwene took Sirithil's hand, rising gracefully to her feet. "Thank you kindly."

Sirithil led Agwene into the office, and gently led her through the process of placing the call; instead of just doing it for her, she taught her how, partially in hopes this might lead to trade deals between Menelmacar and TRD as part of the latter nation's modernization process. One tends, after all, to buy the brand one is familiar with.

Agwene followed Sirithil's instructions to the letter. A voice came on a few minutes later. "Unfortunately, due to the recent accidental death of the high queen and the preparations surrounding the coronation of Her Late Majesty's appointed heir, Emeril ap Eiluned, we are unable to connect your call at this time."

Sirithil glanced at Agwene. "Isn't that you?"

"That's not my appointed heir." She frowned deeply. "Can you contact a ship at sea?"

"Of course."

"Put me through to the [/i]HMS Oberon."

"Registered in your nation?" Siri asked. "Military vessel or civilian?"

"Military. Try to make it a low profile channel."

"Right..." Sirithil ran a quick search in the satellites, and [i]Oberon was found soon enough. The world-spanning network of Menelmacari reconnaissance satellites, termed Elenpalantíri, or literally 'star-farseers', were the eyes and ears of Menelmacar, and little escaped their eternal vigil. Indeed, in Sirithil's office holo, a small image of Oberon, was clearly visible, steaming through choppy seas. The Elentári explained as much of this process to her guest as she could, limited somewhat as certain aspects of the satellites were of course classified.

The high queen quickly followed the instructions. Soon, a crisp male voice came over the line. "This is Captain Olric. What do you need?"

Agwene responded quickly. "This is Lady Golding. Do you understand?"

There was a long pause on the other end. "I understand, my lady."

Sirithil blinks delicately, listening.

"Remember what we talked about at the party the other week? I need that."

"Of course, my lady. Olric out." And the channel closed at that.

Sirithil blinked. "What just happened there?" she asked.

"I just told the captain of my flagship that Emeril had orchestrated a coup and tried to kill me and ordered him to prepare all trustworthy military units for combat if necessary."

Sirithil blinked again. "Civil war?" she asked. Immediately she got on the comm, to the bridge. "I want more speed out of those drives, I don't care if the gravy-field drags half the ocean behind us. Get us there, now."

Agwene sighed. "I really hope not. But...I know Emeril's agenda. He's quite the racist. I would be failing my people if I didn't do whatever it takes to stop him."

Sirithil nodded. "We'll get you there in time to stop it. I promise."

"Thank you." She paused a moment. "I'm going to have to ask you to stand back once we get there, though. I can't save my throne with outside aid, however worthy."

"Of course. But should you need it, Star-kindler is ready to live up to her name wherever you may need her to."

"If you can get me to Timon Square in Tarana, I can challenge him to single combat at his coronation. He can't refuse in front of the crowds. What I really need right now is...a friend."

"And you have one." Sirithil smiled warmly.

Agwene smiled, taking the woman's hand and squeezing. "It's not often incredibly beautiful queens offer me friendship the day I meet them."

Sirithil blushed a bit at that. "It's not often incredibly beautiful queens fall out of the sky into my lap, either."

Agwene bowed over the hand, actually kissing it lightly this time. "Your friendship is returned in full, Elentári Sirithil nos Feanor."

Sirithil blushed a bit more, not really sure what to say. "Thank you," she finally got out.

Agwene smiled broadly, looking up at her and leaning up ever so slightly. "And she's even more lovely when she blushes..."

Sirithil looked down at Agwene; they were alone in the room, it was considered private and they wouldn't be interrupted, except perhaps by comm. "Well, thank you again," she said again.

Agwene just smiled, her eyes closing ever so faintly. For now, she nether said nor did anything, leaving it to Sirithil.

Sirithil wasn't really sure what to do at this point... but, she had a wild urge, and on a whim gave in to it, and she planted a gentle, though somewhat brief, kiss on Agwene's lips.

Agwene pulled into it ever so slightly, gently returning it, eagerly but not too eagerly. She let her arms drape around the much taller elf.

Sirithil let hers rest around Agwene's slender waist, and she held the kiss a little bit longer than she'd initially intended, before pulling gently away again.

"I'll admit that I'd been hoping for that for awhile." Agwene said, still holding Sirithil lightly.

Sirithil chuckled a bit... she bent down and swept Agwene off her feet, into her arms, and carried her to a chair by the window, setting the sidhe in her lap. "How long were you waiting?"

"Honestly?" Agwene nestled into the woman, smiling softly.

"Yes, of course honestly," Siri replied.

"More or less since the first time I saw you." She leaned up and kisses the elf lightly.

Sirithil kissed Agwene back. "Really," she said in mock surprise, stroking
Agwene's hair and smiling down at her. "That long, eh?" She grinned.

Agwene leaned into the stroking, reaching up to run a hand through Sirithil's long hair. "Yes, dear lady, that long. There's something about the woman who nurses you back to health..even if she does magically do so in short order."

Sirithil blushed yet again. "I already said," she said with a chuckle, "that it was my pleasure to do so..."

"Well, that's hardly going to discourage my affection, is it?" Agwene paused a moment, looking off, before looking back to Siri with a small smile.

Sirithil giggled. "I suppose I certainly wouldn't want it to." She leans down and kisses Agwene again, gently.

Agwene returned the kiss, tracing one soft finger along Siri's neck. "This is actually..." she blushes a little, looking away.

"Actually what?" Siri asked.

"Actually, you're my first kiss."

Sirithil smiled. "Really? I'm truly honored. And I hadn't noticed. You're quite good at it." She kissed Agwene again.

Agwene kissed back fiercely. "I have a good teacher?" She winks.

Sirithil laughed again. "Now you're flattering me," she said, enjoying the kiss.

Agwene shook her head. "You are a very good kisser."

"And you, my dear, are a fast learner."

Agwene just smiled softly at her, leaning against the woman. "This is nice...to relax. It's been a rough few days."

Sirithil nodded. "I'll bet... what happened in Devras?" she asks.

Agwene shook her head a little. "Something...really bad. I think the iron's hurt my head a little. My memory's less than clear."

"What do you remember?" Siri asked, very gently, and just as gently stroking Agwene's hair reassuringly.

"Something bad happened to Nathi. I remember..." she frowned deeply, a tear running down her cheek "...I tried to save her but...I failed her."

Sirithil frowned; Nathi was her friend too. She cuddled Agwene close to her. "It's all right... I'm sure you did everything you could."

Agwene nodded a little. "I can't...I don't...I do seem to remember she was still alive, when it was over just...I'll remember."

"See, that's good news, at least. She's a big girl, y'know, and she's come through some pretty rough stuff. I'm sure she'll be fine." She leaned down again and plants a little kiss on the tip of Agwene's ear, then rubbed it a bit, wondering idly if sidhe ears were as sensitive as elven ones were.

Agwene smirked lightly. "That's not an erogenous zone, you know?" Then she paused, reaching up and running a finger along Siri's ear.

"Oh," she said. "For us it is." She mmmmm's softly as Agwene strokes her ear.

"For us, our light is..." She stroked gently over the elven ear, leaning up to nip it lightly.

Sirithil smiled. "Y'know... I'm actually engaged." She blushed.

Agwene blinked once. "I...hope it's an open thing?"

Sirithil laughed. "It is, it is, don't worry. He's... very understanding. As I am of him."

Agwene nodded. "Good. Then I don't mind. Thanks for telling me though. It'll keep me from taking anything out of…perspective." She smiled, kissing Siri on the cheek. "Friends?"

"Very dear friends, yes."

Agwene smiled softly. "With special privileges?"


Sirithil laughed. "What sort of special privileges?" Agwene answered by kissing her again.

As the ship approaches Mists, a star appeared on her sensors, bright and red. It was likely not entirely unknown to Menelmacari star charts given the degree to which interstellar exploration had progressed. Still, it was not something that should have been detectable from earth and the sight of it seemed somehow forboding, unholy. Around it flew seven planets, in an orbital pattern seeming unnatural compared to the way planets ordinarily form around stars. Below, the sea is pristine, untainted. A few deep sea fishing vessels, almost all based on technology more at home in the twelth century, could be seen plying their trade. An odd unfamiliar shape appeareded below the surface every now and agan.

Sirithil peers at the star... odd, very odd. She points to it in the holo, and asks Agwene what it is.

Rising, still in Sirithil's shipboard office, Agwene peered at the star with a deep frown. "That is Balor, the most evil star in the heavens. Fortunately, it is also much further away than it looks, or so I've been told."

"What's it's significance?" Siri asks.

"According to legend, it's where the Fomorians dwell now. I am not sure if that is true or not but...something does just seem wrong about it. Can you sense it?" Agwene stares at the image intently.

"A little," Sirithil muses, peering at the hologram just as intently.

Agwene nodded. "Hopefully, they will keep resting. Though, it has long troubled me why their star should be so much more visible here, contrary to all natural laws."

Sirithil nods a little. "On a brighter note... are those yours?" Siri points out the window at a chain of islands.

Agwene nodded. "They are." As they passed over the larger island, the ship first flew over absolutely breathtaking marshlands, going on for miles upon miles. The land was dotted with small hamlets marked by quaint little lights.

Sirithil peers out the window at the landscape rolling by beneath. "Pretty," Siri says. "Different from home, but very pretty."

Agwene looked down with a light nod. "I think so. I like Shieldcrest better though. That's Wintermore below us now."

"What's Shieldcrest like?" asked the Elentári.

"Did you ever hear that old American song, "America the Beautiful?"

Sirithil nodded. "I have," she said. "I have visited America many times. Why do you ask?"

"Remember that line about 'amber waves of grain'?"

Sirithil nodded. "Yes."

"That could have been written about Shieldcrest."

Sirithil smiled. "It does sound quite lovely indeed," replied the Elentári, hugging Agwene close.

Agwene hugged back, pecking her swiftly on the lips before looking back out the window. As they pass over into Shieldcrest, the landscape does seem to become endless farms, mostly growing grains of various kinds. Scattered across the plains are a few large cities with modern downtown skylines at their cores. The next ring is nicer, more old fashioned homes of wood or stone, with private wells and carriages. The outskirts of the cities are surrounded by the price most modernizing nations have to pay for their economic growth, urban sprawl. The people on the outskirts clearly live on very little. Still, given TRD's strong tradition of aesthetics, even poverty isn't ugly. The unemployed, partially employed, and otherwise poor folk on the outskirts of the city live in tiny but neat huts, drawing clean water from neighborhood wells (one for every twelve houses).

Sirithil smiles a bit, knowing the people below must surely be amazed at the mighty ship passing over their cities, blocking out the sun for a few moments. "How far to Tarana now?"

"We're almost there. I suppose we should go ahead and talk business some before we land."

Sirithil nods. "Would be good," Siri grins.

"I'd like to make our friendship...somewhat official, if you'd be willing."

"I'd certainly be willing," Sirithil replied, cuddling Agwene gently.

"We're willing to establish trade, of course. Officer exchange. Student exchange. Maybe arrange for some nobles to get married."

Sirithil nods. "Well, one two and three is no problem... four... I'd have problems imposing marriages on any of my people. There's obviously no problem with hooking people up and hoping something nice happens, but I'm not going to impose it."

"I said arrange, not order."

Sirithil nods a bit. "Righto, then."

"I'm going to give you a full Gematria upgrade on a ship, so it can work in the dreaming, as a present."

Sirithil smiles. "Thank you, that's very sweet of you... how does that work, exactly?"

Agwene pauses, thinking a moment. "It's something they do with energy and wiring. I'm not an engineer but it essentially lets a piece of machinery from the Waking World function through a rath into the dreaming."

"A rath?" Siri asks.

"A doorway into the dreaming."

Sirithil nods... "A portal of sorts?"

Agwene nods. "Quite. And we're willing to trade more work along those lines, of course."

Sirithil blinks a moment. "Um, question, dear."

"Yes, darling?"

"If the ship works... but wouldn't normally work... what about the various computers and other such gadgets on the ship that aren't actually part of the ship?"

Agwene pauses a moment, considering. "Well, it isn't as though they just cast a spell on the ship. They have to do it circuit by circuit and they can do the same process on the computers and such. If you wanted, we could have every piece of equipment treated, but, of course, the more we do, the more time, resources, and labor are required."

"So the ship would work but the computer on my desk wouldn't?"

"No, no, we could make the computer on your desk work."

"But it'd be a separate upgrade."

"Exactly."

Sirithil ponders. "There's gotta be some way you could devise a chip or something that would make whatever it was installed in work right in the dreaming," she muses. Would make such a process a great deal simpler.

Agwene nods a little. "I actually have people working on that but...I can only offer what I have currently. I don't even know if it will ultimately be doable."

Sirithil nods. "I'm sure I could provide some of my own scientists to help."

"Would you be interested in trading for upgrades beyond my present?"

"I think so," Siri smiles. "What sort of things would you want to trade for?"

"Well...our deep space exploration technology is still quite far behind." Agwene comments, less than subtley.

Sirithil smiles. "I think I might have FTL drives you'd find plenty serviceable."

Agwene grins broadly. "Sounds like a deal."

Sirithil smiles, and cuddles Agwene. "Any other business you'd like to conclude before we arrive?"

"Maybe a little personal business." She turns, kissing Sirithil fiercely.

Sirithil mmmphs, and returns the kiss quite cheerfully.

----

Some time later, Agwene pulls her tunic back on, and heads towards the window. "You're going to want to see Tarana."

Sirithil does up her robe, and goes to the window to see.

And there it is. Tarana. The city is the largest in the nation, a city of millions upon millions. The new city is formed around the old and is largely the same as the other cities of Shieldcrest on a larger scale. The poorer areas on the outskirts of town are significantly dirtier but designed on the same basic model. It's a lot harder to sanitize poverty on a larger scale. Still, no area has been allowed to degenerate into the kind of outright wasteland you find in many comparable cities in the world. Still, it's the old city that draws the eye. It's visible over the tallest modern building. Partially because it's built on an outcropping, partially because no one dares build anything above the high queen's palace.

The old city is white marble, literally carved into a great marble outcropping in the middle of the plains. Five shining walls stand ready. Five gates open, carrying in waves of government employees, tourists, and other people. Each gate is unique and ornate. The largest stands guarded by great stone gryffons and another has similar lion guards. The other three have no statues before them but great carvings in the marble of the gates themselves. They bear the marks of a great arm, shining stars, and a great silver tree, respectively. The five corners of the city walls are marked with five towers, thin and high, like the towers one might expect to see more in the illustrations to a book of fairy stories than in an ancient structure. Yet, there they are. The inside of the city itself, gleaming in the light of the sun, consists of pillared and domed buildings in a neo-classical style, centering on a great domed palace, with its own golden gate and four massive wings. In the very center of the palace, rises a sixth tower, the highest of them all from which the land can be seen for far around. Before the gates of the palace is a great square, containing statues of the nation's past heroes. The square is now crowded with a great mass of people, all gathered to here Emeril's speech.

Already the ship, probably larger than the square itself, descends towards the square...

Sirithil grins. "We should go."

Agwene pauses a little. "Is there room to land?"

The crowds below look up, some blinking, a few stepping back, all speaking loudly and excitedly. Emeril himself looks up and simply begins to back away, a look of utter terror on his face.

"Not at all," Siri grins. She whispers a brief spell, and with a flash of what appears to be crimson lightning, both Agwene and Sirithil are teleported to the surface, indeed right onto the dais itself.

The ship, of course, hovers ominously low over the square, as low as she possibly can without damaging buildings.

The crowd immediately falls to its knees before their queen and the woman with the really big ship. This is Sirithil's first chance to see the general population of TRD. Sidhe and humans mix with goat-legged satyrs, nine foot tall blue mountains of muscle, short rotund creatures with bushy eyebrows, grey-skinned monstrosities with jagged yellow teeth, thin and pale toothless folk dressed all in black, dark-skinned people with pointed ears, knobby jointed folk with black swirls on their skin, and people with cleatly animal features

Sirithil gazes over the crowd, then glances back to Emeril and Agwene.

"First of all, I'm sure you meant to say 'I honestly thought you were dead, Your Majesty'." Agwene comments simply, beginning to walk towards Emeril.

Emeril nods, trembling. "I honestly thought you were dead, Your Majesty."

Agwene shrugs. "There's one other minor detail. And that would be that you're lying. Now, do you want to do this like nobles or just get executed for high treason? Your choice."

Sirithil almost wishes she had some popcorn.

Agwene holds her hand out and about a dozen trolls jump up to offer her blades of which she picks one. Emeril hesitantly draws his sword. The blades meet, steel on steel. They dive in and out, thrusting and parrying with years of training. After about ten minutes, Emeril knocks Agwene's blade from her hand.

Sirithil's hand goes instinctually to the hilt of her own blade, her other hand clenching Tauravandil tightly, as she watches to see what will happen.

Agwene falls to the ground as Emeril raises his blade, bringing it down for the killing blow. Rolling swiftly, the queen barely misses the steel as it clangs against marble.

Sirithil breathes a sigh of relief.

Agwene grabs her blade again as she jumps to her feet, swinging it at Emeril's neck. He moves to parry but...too late. The stroke is clean and strong, cutting the head right off. The bloody thing falls to the ground, rolling a little way as his body lands with a thud.

Sirithil winces. Well, that seems to settle that.

"He'll be fine in ten years." Agwene half-mutters as she returns to the Noldor. Then she turns to face the crowd. "Emeril was a traitor. Yet he died well and shall be buried as befits a knight." Pausing, she glances to Siri, gesturing her forward.

Sirithil steps forth.

"This is the Lady Sirithil nos Feanor, the Elentari of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar. Her friendship has been of inestimable help to the nation in this time of crisis and I owe a great debt to her personally." Loud applause rings out.

Sirithil smiles brightly to the crowd.

Agwene nudges her with an elbow, whispering. "Say something."

Sirithil thinks fast. "A great friendship has begun today. It is my fondest hope that the friendship between the peoples of Menelmacar and the Resurgent Dream will never wane."

Agwene grins a little before a young human man walks up, quietly handing her a sheet of paper. Reading it, the queen's face seems to fall miserably as she turns quietly towards the doors of the palace. Without saying anything aloud, she touches Sirithil on the elbow to invite her along, even as the crowd appaluds Sirithil.

Sirithil does a little bow for the crowd, then follows Agwene towards the palace. "What's this?" she asks.

As they pass through the gates, Agwene answers in a rather choked voice. "My little sister's dead."

Sirithil wraps an arm around Agwene's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Terrorists..."

Sirithil looks around her as they enter the palace, but is mostly concerned with the poor little (to her) sidhe.

The palace is grandly decorated in a high style, thought the halls down which Agwene walks are less public and less ostentatious.

Sirithil follows Agwene along, looking around as they go.

Agwene opens the door to a large bedchamper. Stepping inside, she sits down on the bed and begins to weep silently.

Sirithil sits down next to her, wrapping her arms around Agwene and stroking her hair gently.

"She was a child..."

"Let it all out, darling... holding it in never helps..."

"If I catch them...." she grits her teeth, glamor flaring dangerously.

Sirithil cuddles Agwene. "Would you like Menelmacari help?" she asks.

"I already owe you enough."

"Well... we're good at finding terrorists, is all," Siri muses. "But it's up to you, I don't want to impose."

"We can help each other fight terrorists."

"I'd like that," Siri says, hugging Agwene tight.

"I'll have my people put it in with the rest of the things we talked about." She hugs back lightly.

Sirithil smiles. "Well, that's good... would you like to talk about your sister, or no?" she asks, in a soft and gentle voice.

"She'll be back. We don't die forever but...still...She was almost about to enter adolescence, growing into a beautiful young woman. Why would they target her? I mean, whatever they're mad about, I'm sure it was more my decision than hers."

Sirithil strokes Agwene gently. "There is rarely much sense to what such people do... they target the weakest of their enemies, in hopes of spreading fear and anguish and grief among the others."

"Well, then I suppose I must grant that they have suceeded in that, if it was their goal. But they are going to reap fear and angusih and grief as well and in no small doses."

Sirithil smiles. "That's the spirit," she says gently, hugging the little sidhe close.

Agwene hugs into the huge elf. "I need to make some calls. There's a reception in your honor tonight. Someone's doubtless arranged you quarters appropriate to your station already. I'll come by as soon as I'm done with work."

Sirithil smiles. "I'm looking forward to it." She gives Agwene one last big squeeze of a hug.

Agwene hugs her back, smiling weakly at the departing Noldor.

Judge Hathor ni Dougal looked over her court roster with a frown. "I've never had this many nobles on trial in my court before."

Judge Jacob ap Dougal shrugged a little. "It is a difficult time, lady. I have just as many. Her Majesty is dealing with the coup situation rather well though, considering that nothing like this has ever happened before."

Jathos nodded slightly. "It will likely take some time to recover from this." She laughed sadly. "At least most of these trials should be rather short."
...
Meanwhile, Judge Nartoug ap Dougal stepped into the palace. He wore a sombre expression as he sat in a waiting area in the hall. Nartoug has been ordered to report to Her Majesty on the judicial situation regarding the recent terrorist attack and, as he was at the palace, had been invited to the reception in honor of the visiting Menelmacari Elantari. Nartoug wasn't sure what he was supposed to say or do at such an affair. He was a judge, not a diplomat.

After two or three hours had passed, Agwene knocked lightly on the door of her guest. Sirithil had been getting settled, and looked up. "Yes?"

"I said I'd come by."

"Yes, you did... please, come in, Agwene." She walked over to the door and opened it.

Agwene slipped inside, looking around a little. "Is everything alright?" Since she last spoke to the Elentari, she has changed into a gossamer (yes, literally) black dress.

Sirithil smiled just a little. "Everything is fine. The room is lovely and the palace staff have been very helpful."

"You just seem a little reserved is all." Agwene said, as she sat quietly in one of the high-backed wooden chairs in the room.

Sirithil shook her head. "Well, I was thinking about the things we talked about, is all."

"What are you thinking?" asked the sidhe. Agwene sat quietly, watching the elf.

"Well... just about your sister, and those terrorists, and such. I'll need to know as much as I can about what's going on here, if I'm to help you. I know it might be difficult to discuss, but... yeah, that's basically it." She sat down across from Agwene.

Agwene sighed a little. "I think I have it under control. I've spent the last few hours on the phone about it. My people are working up something formal."

"No, no, I mean about the terrorists, about what civil conflict there is in your country, details."

"That's what I was talking about."

“Oh. So... we're not going to work together, then?"

Agwene paused, stood up, sat back down, glanced out the window. "Of course we are, Sirithil. You know how much...I'm sorry. It's been a rough day. I had been hoping...well, nevermind. Where shall we begin?"

Sirithil moved to a comfier chair, and patpatted her lap invitingly. "At the beginning, is usually a good place." She smiled.

Agwene reached over and clasped the Elenatari's hand lightly. "I'm not sure what there is left to do or say. Emeril's people were angry because we were establishing relations with nations ruled by other races."

Sirithil nodded a bit. "I see," she said. "Fae supremacists?"

"Yes." Agwene answered simply.

"We're going to let you name one of the Friendship Islands and make you an honorary member of the Order of Steel." Agwene said. "We're having dinner with Queen Catherine this evening, then the reception, then to the island."

Sirithil smiled. "What's the Order of Steel?" she asked.

Agwene smiled faintly. "Our highest knightly order."

Sirithil blushed a bit. "I'm deeply honored," she replied softly.

Agwene leaned forward and kissed her hand lightly. "My other sister and most of my queens are in the dreaming. I won't know the results of that until the raths open again. Most of the conspirators are in custody."

Sirithil nods. "Any still at large?"

"A few. But we can take care of all of that when we sign the agreement. We're looking it over and revising it on the island."

Sirithil nodded. "Look forward to reading it, then."

"So do I. But...everything important that will be on there is already essentially established." She squeezed Sirithil's hand a little.

Sirithil squeezed back. "That's good," she said. "So... how does it feel to be home?"

"It feels like my job somehow became far more complicated between when I went to Devras a week ago and when I got back."

Sirithil chuckled a bit. "It has a habit of doing that," she said. "Though, it has a habit of suddenly getting more complicated even when you stay home."

"I've only been queen for a month, you know?" Agwene confided, smiling weakly.

Sirithil smiled, and hugged Agwene gently. "It's okay... I've been doing this job for a long time, and you can always call me if you want help."

"That's what I have a Prime Minister for, love. Thanks for offering, though."

Sirithil giggled a little. "A prime minister. I should get one of those."

"That would be my advice. Your call, though."

Sirithil nodded a little, and cuddled Agwene. "You've been very kind to me," she said with a smile.

"You did save my life and all."

Agwene smiled a little. "I think you're going to like Queen Catherine. And all the other dignitaries. Did you get a good look at the diversity of our people?"

Sirithil nodded. "Your people are very diverse indeed."

"Any races you'd like me to tell you about while we wait for dinner. It should be done soon." Agwene offered.

"Maybe an overview of all of them?" Siri grinned.

"Well, there's boggans, eshu, nockers, pooka, sidhe, satyrs, trolls, redcaps, sluagh, piskies, thallain, nunnehi, adhene, inanimae, ghillde dhu, hsien, oba, merfolk, and river hags..."

Sirithil boggled. "That's a lot. Yep. Diverse."

"Well, a lot of those are groups of races, actually." Agwene elaborated. "Boggans are pleasant, good hearted people. They're short and round. They love simple pleasures and good handicrafts."

Sirithil nodded, listening.

"Eshu are storytellers and wanderers, always traveling from place to place, and possessed of great luck."

As the conversation continued, a knock was gently heard at the door.

Sirithil looked up. "Who's there?" she asked, brushing a golden strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Staff, Your Majesty." came a pleasant, bogganly voice. "It's nearly time for dinner."

Sirithil smiled. "Dinner... sounds lovely. Agwene, you'll have to tell me more later...?"

Agwene nodded. "I'll have someone give you a detailed demographics book." She rose, offering an arm to Sirithil as the boggan opened the door for them.

Sirithil smiled, hooking her arm into Agwene's, and walked out the door with her, nodding her head to the boggan in thanks - with no thought more prominent in her mind than, 'Hobbit! Cute!'. "I look forward to it."

"Mister Bolger here is a boggan, like we were discussing earlier. He has been in service here at the palace for...three hundred years, isn't it, Mister Bolger?" she asked, turning to the servant.

"Just about that, Your Majesty." he answered.

Sirithil smiled. "Three hundred years! That's very good."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." he gushed. "It is my honor to serve the High Queen just as it was my honor to serve her mother. It is also, of course, quite an honor to meet you."

Sirithil smiled brightly. "The honor is all mine. Three hundred years! I have few servants in my own palace with such tenure."

"Well, Your Majesty, among my people to offer help and service is considered the noblest and highest of callings." he gushed still. Half-playfully, Bolger added "That and it pays rather well."

Sirithil laughed. "I'm the last person who'd complain about that reasoning."

Agwene smiled a little. "He earns every dross and more."

Sirithil laughed again. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Mister Bolger."

"Of course, Your Majesty." the boggan said with a grin, showing them both into the small, private dining room with a table set for three.

Sirithil was a bit surprised by this, she'd partly expected a vast grand hall of some kind. Heck, she usually eats in a vast grand hall. But the intimate setting was a refreshing change, and she smiled.

The boggan pulled out seats for both women, smiling. "What will you have today, Elentari?"

Sirithil smiled. "What's on the menu?" she asked, again a bit surprised, thinking the food must surely have been prepared already.

Bolger blinked once. "Why, most anything you could wish for, I would imagine. Though, the original plan was for green salad with Holistan dressing, turtle soup, steamed vegetables, duck in our special sauce, and a chocolate mouss."

Sirithil nodded. "Y'know, that sounds absolutely lovely. I'll have the house special, then."

Bolger nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty." Bowing, he made his exit from the dining room.

Sirithil smiled at Agwene. "We do a lot of seafood back home," she said. "And beef. I don't have duck as often as I'd like."

Agwene grinned back a little, opening her mouth to say something before rising politely as an eshu herald entered the room.

Sirithil rose as well. When in Rome...

"Announcing Her Majesty, Queen Catherine ni Fiona of Farinor!" the eshu said loudly, as an elegant sidhe lady in silver and red entered.

Sirithil smiled. She always blushes when a herald announces her, and she watched Catherine to see if she would do likewise. She gave a slight bow of her head in respect; one is unlikely ever to see Sirithil nos Féanor actually bowing.

Agwene also inclined her head. She didn't seem to see anything odd about Sirithil doing it either. Monarchs might rise for each other but not bow to each other. Besides which, Catherine was technically a vassal queen. Nonetheless, Catherine did not blush and Agwene moved to sit again as Catherine took the third seat at the table.

Sirithil sat down again as well. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Queen Catherine," she said with a smile.

Agwene smiled a little. "Queen Catherine, this is Lady Sirithil nos Feanor, Elentári of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar."

Catherine smiled brightly. "It is an honor to meet you, Elentári."

Sirithil nodded. "The honor's all mine, I'm sure... so you're queen of Farinor?"

Catherine nodded. "I am." As she spoke, Bolger returned, serving the wine and the salad.

Agwene sipped her wine delicately. "Farinor is something of a cultural center. A great deal of art comes out of there. It is also known for revelry and as a lovely vacation spot."

Sirithil nodded, sipping her wine as well, and politely thanking Bolger for the salad. "Sounds very nice... I'll have to visit sometime." She glances down at her wine. "This is nice... what sort of wine is it?"

Agwene shrugged. "It's Oakenshadow, from Holista, rather good year too."

Sirithil nodded a little. "Oakenshadow... is that the grape, or the winery?"

"The winery." Agwene answered.

Catherine took a moment to take Sirithil in, thoughtful. "Should you visit, we will, of course, make it cause for a proper celebration."

She smiled brightly to Catherine. "I'd love to visit, then... as soon as I have a moment without a crisis, I'll be sure to visit."

Catherine gave a half-playful laugh. "They still have those?"

Sirithil laughed, too. "Occasionally, yes! It truly is amazing and rare, but it does happen."

Agwene laughed a little as well. "Yet, you'd be unlikely to find Catherine bothered by them. Fiona are known for their near unfathomable courage and Catherine lives up to her House."

Catherine inclined her head to Agwene's statement as the soup was served. "The high queen is quite correct. Fiona fear only for their loves and not themselves. Yet, how we love..."

Sirithil smiled. "Courage is a trait to be proud of, certainly." She finished her delicious salad, and moved on to the soup. "So... tell me all about Farinor."

Catherine grinned, eager to be on her favorite subject. "Farinor is a Kingdom of one hundred million. It's largely forested land. The cities are intermingled with the woodlands, creating rather wondrous forest cities. We have a strong lumber industry, though no more than is sustainable."

Agwene turned to Sirithil. "The one area where our government routinely deviates from our normalally staunch market-based economic policies is that of the environment, and such regulation is stronger in Farinor than anywhere else."

Sirithil nodded a little, listening happily as she sipped at the soup.

Catherine nodded a little. "That is all true. Farinor's faery population consists largely of satyrs, trolls, eshu, and sidhe, as well as no small number of inanimae."

Agwene looked at Sirithil with brief apprehension. "From our past contact with elven nations, we know the Quendi to be familiar with a race of trolls wholly different from our own, though the name be the same. I assure you that the brutes we have heard of are as far from our trolls as night is from day."

"I'm sorry--inanimae?" Sirithil asked. She knew, or could guess, what the others are, but that was a new one to her. And she nodded to Agwene, understanding.

Catherine smiled. "Nature spirits might be the best way to put it. There are six main races: The solimonds, born of fire; the glomes, born of earth; the ondines, born of water; the parsosemes, born of air; the kubera, born of vegetation; and the mannkins, who take their forms from men."

"Sort of like elementals?" Siri asked.

"Except for the mannikins." Agwene agreed. "It is interesting that certain archetypes seem to prevail among the races of the world while remaining different peoples with entirely separate origins."

Sirithil nodded. "True enough. We've done some research into that, actually... reality seems to be of a fractal nature, with many similar but subtly different worlds interacting here, on this one planet. It's quite fascinating, really."

Agwene grinned. "That's what my seers tell me, though research might not be exactly the right word for how they arrived at the conclusion." Agwene finished her soup up, starting on the vegetables as they arrived.

Catherine ate her vegetables delicately. "I understand you're to be made an honorary member of the Order of Steel."

Sirithil thanked Bolger again for the vegetables, and nodded to Catherine. "Yes, I'm very honored. I just found out myself."

Agwene smiled to Bolger briefly before commenting "It's very interesting why they call it that."

Catherine blinked once. "Does she know about iron?"

Sirithil nodded. "Well, yes. Agwene had apparently been beaten with a cold iron rod." She frowned.

Catherne blinked, half-standing. "That's...barbarous!"

Agwene waved Catherine down. "I'm fine. In any event, steel technically has a higher content of iron ore than cold iron does. Yet, steel not only does us no harm but is one of our stronger and more useful metals. Because, in steel, we know how to draw strength from our greatest weakness, we see it as a perfect analogy for how a knight works."

Sirithil nodded. "Seems a good analogy to me," she said.

Agwene gave a sideways smile to Sirithil as the main dish was served. "Lady Sirithil saved my life, you know?"

Sirithil blushed intensely at this.

Catherine smiled broadly. "Then our Empire owes you a great debt, Elentari."

Sirithil blushed again. "Um... thank you." She smiled, trying her best to be modest.

Agwene lowered her hand briefly, squeezing Siri's under the table. "Do you like the duck?"

Sirithil squeezed back, gently, and smiled at Agwene. "The duck is wonderful. Very tender... and the seasoning is delightful."

Agwene smiled softly as she continued to eat, blushing oh so faintly at the possible metaphor.

Catherine finshed her duck eagerly, if elegantly. "We're glad you enjoyed it, Elentari."

Agwene smiled faintly as they walked from the room. "Shall we take my ship or yours?"

Sirithil smiled back as she walked with Agwene. "You have a ship?" she asked.

"Well, I am a queen. It wouldn't due to ride a bicycle everywhere."

"Well, yes. Of course not." She grinned. "What sort of ship?"

"Well, from here it would be the royal yacht, The Falcon. I have a space ship but...not in Tarana."

Sirithil nodded a bit. "Would it be a long trip?" she asked.

Agwene smiled wryly. "A few hours, but..."

Bolger rushed up, bowing hurriedly. "Your Majesties!"

Sirithil smiled brightly to see Bolger. "Yes?"

Bolger grinned brightly back. "We just got word that the raths are opening back up and Grand Duchess Vicotira's been found, alive."

"And Aiwyn?" Agwene asked.

"Rather the worse for wear. But living." The boggan replied, bowing again and making his retreat.

Agwene just grinned brightly. As soon as no one else was in sight, she jumped up slightly, hugging Sirithil tightly. Sirithil laughed, and hugged Agwene back. Agwene grinned a little more wryly. "As I was saying, I don't particularly think I'd object to a few hours alone with you..."

"I don't think I'd object either," replied the Elentári with a smile. Agwene gently took the Noldor's hand, squeezing lightly as she walked through the palace halls. Sirithil followed Agwene along. "All right, then, your ship it is. I'll make sure my people know." Agwene went silent a moment, letting Sirithil talk to her people Sirithil pulled out her comm, and sent a message up to Gilthoniel (which likely by now wasn't looming quite so low over the city) to inform them that she would be making the trip aboard Agwene's ship.

"Want to name an island?"

Sirithil blinked. "Um...yes?" She blushed a little. "Tis quite an honor."

"We reserve a few just for these matters. It's where we're signing the treaty."

Sirithil nodded a little as she walked along. "It sounds very nice." Agwene walked with Sirithil through the old city and a good part of the new city, heading down the docks where they boarded the yacht. It was a large and elegant yacht, white with the Gwydion Crest on one side. Agwene walked straight to her private cabin, shutting the door. As the pair left the palace, a pair of Mornahossë soldiers in their shimmering black armor fell into formation behind them, walking with them; there were likely others following along, with their active camo activated. It is only these two who boarded the yacht, however, and they did not follow the two into the cabin, instead remaining on deck. Sirithil, meanwhile, looked about as she walked, enjoying the city sights and commenting on anything she found interesting. "What a lovely boat," she said with a smile, looking it over as she boarded.

Agwene for her part, had no visible security for her own person, not here anyway. SHe smiled at Siri's comment. "Thank you. I was worried you might find things too small here."

"Not at all," she replied, following Agwene into the private cabin. "Just different." She smiled.

Agwene gestured for Sirithil to sit on the luxurious couch before her. "There are some grand buildings, especially the temples. However...well, we did used to live in hillsides. It develops a taste for the cozy." Sirithil nodded a bit, and sat down on the couch. Agwene leaned into Sirithil. "It's been a very long day. Fortunately, it did have one wonderful thing in it."

"What's that?"

"More of a who." Agwene said. Sirithil blushed intensely. Agwene kissed her blushing cheek lightly. "You're cute when you do that. Not that you're not cute anyway." Sirithil blushed again, and gave Agwene a little kiss on the cheek. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Whatever you like."

Agwene smiled a little. "What did you think of Tarana?"

"Tarana is a beautiful city, Agwene, and you have much to be proud of."

"I think so too. What's are Menelmacari cities like?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Are there just Noldor?"

"Well, mostly, but there's also Sindar, Avari, and Vanyar."

"But all Elves?"

"Well, almost all. There are some humans and a few dwarves and other species, but most of our cities are overwhelmingly elven."

Agwene nodded, idly playing with Sirithil's hand. "Are you religious?"

"Religious? In what way? Belief in a higher power, or actively practicing religious?"

"Both. Either." Agwene shrugged a little.

"Well, we were created by Eru Ilúvatar," Sirithil replied. "In fact, I'm one of the very first generation of our people. So... we're quite firm in our beliefs, some of us having had firsthand experience of them. But perhaps interestingly, we don't have much in the way of temples and organized worship." Agwene nodded, looking at Sirithil expectantly, smiling.

"What about you?" Siri asked.

Agwene beamed, obviously this is something she's rather proud of. "VERY. I pray at least three times a day for at least an hour each time, unless there's an emergency. I perform all the holy rights. I study the texts in detail. It is my duty, really. I am head of the Danaan Church, not just in the High Kingdom, but worldwide. But I like to think I would be very religious anyway."
Sirithil nodded, and listened, and nodded some more. "That's very impressive," she says with a smile. "It's good to see you take the position seriously."

"There's more. My life is...Never mind."

"No, go on."

"I'm technically descended from Dana, in the actual bodily sense."

Sirithil smiled. "Then we are both daughters of our gods," she says with a grin.

Agwene tilted her head curiously. "Oh?"

"Well, me in a figurative sense only, I suppose. Given I was not actually born, but directly created by Eru's hand."

"Like Eve, in the Christian tradition?"

"Well, yes. Only Eru had the sense to create more than two Elves."

Agwene laughed despite herself. "Well, there are two separate stories in Genesis and only one of them had only a single couple. I have my mother's copy of that book still. It was a gift from the Excalbians."

"Well, yes, that's true… though you did make reference to that specific story." She fluffed Agwene's hair a little. "Who were the Excalbians?"

"Well, Excalbia is a large country of several billion people originally settled by Celts around the sixth century. In the tenth century, a second wave of settlers arrived. This time, the Norse. I won't bore you with the entire history but today it is the dominant power in the Excalbian Isles, closely allied with Pantocratoria, leading a boycott of Knootos, and one of our international friends." Sirithil just sort of nodded a little. "You'd really never heard of them?"

"Well, it's not that I hadn't heard of them, more that we haven't had much dealings with them." Agwene nodded, looking off a moment, thinking of more to speak of.

Agwene leaned up and kissed Sirithil lightly. "I'm running out of conversational topics, love."

"How about we just cuddle and enjoy the trip, then?" she asked.

"Want to know what I think?"

"Always."

Agwene looked Sirithil over with a wry grin. "I think that your god was a VERY good workman."

Sirithil laughed aloud. "That's very sweet of you, thank you."

"I try."


Sirithil giggled a bit, and gave Agwene a little kiss.
Agwene kissed back. "So how are you enjoying things so far?"

"It's very nice... very nice indeed."

“Go on." Agwene fished shamelessly.

Sirithil couldn’t help but laugh a little at the rather obvious fishing. “You’re very nice. Honestly, my darling, you simply take my breath away.” She took Agwene’s head in hand and kissed her passionately. They thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the trip.

The Pact of Uinen

Preamble: WE the Undersigned, the Empire of the Resurgent Dream and the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar, desiring a lasting and bilateral friendship with one another, recognizing the commonality of purpose between free peoples, seeking mutual security, and joining together in the binds of free economic, social, and cultural exchange, DO ESTABLISH this Pact of Friendship between us.

Section 1: Uinen

Article 1.1: The island of Uinen, named by the Elentári of Menelmacar under a good will invitation by the Danaan High Queen, is hereby dedicated to the friendship between the Menelmacari and Danaan people.
Article 1.2: Fifty acres of land on Uinen is to be dedicated to a public park honoring the friendship between the Menelmacari and Danaan people. The specific contents of this park shall be worked out jointly by the Menelmacari and Danaan Foreign Ministries. However, the park must include a marketplace consisting of shops rented to private business as a demonstration of the free market principles embraced by both the Resurgent Dream and Menelmacar. Preference is to be given to those businesses whose products and décor best represent the theme of a free exchange of, not only goods, but also of culture, people, and ideas.
Article 1.3: The Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar shall be allotted an official consulate on Uinen in addition to the Menelmacari Embassy in Tarana.

Section 2: Titles of Nobility

Article 2.1: All Menelmacari titles of nobility are hereby recognized as titles of nobility in the Resurgent Dream.
Article 2.2: All Danaan titles of nobility are hereby recognized as titles of nobility in Menelmacar.
Article 2.3: It shall be lawful for any citizen of the Resurgent Dream to receive and accept titles and honors from the government of Menelmacar so long as such titles carry with them no obligation which might conflict with the obligations and duties of Danaan citizenship or of any specific office which he might hold.
Article 2.4: It shall be lawful for any citizen of Menelmacar to receive and accept titles and honors from the government of the Resurgent Dream so long as such titles carry with them no obligation which might conflict with the obligations and duties of Menelmacari citizenship or of any specific office which he might hold.

Section 3: Trade

Article 3.1: Economic relations between the Resurgent Dream and Menelmacar shall be conducted on the basis of free trade.
Article 3.2: Danaan companies shall be free to operate within the borders of Menelmacar and vice versa.
Article 3.3: Danaan companies shall be free to sell exports to or purchase imports from Menelmacari companies and vice versa.
Article 3.4: Neither Menelmacar nor the Resurgent Dream shall place tariffs of prejudicial regulations upon the imports of the other party.
Article 3.5: Fees required for port security, maintenance, and sanitation shall not be considered prejudicial, nor shall regulations designed to prevent the international spread or to ensure international security against terrorism.
Article 3.6: Nothing in this treaty shall be interpreted as exempting either Danaan or Menelmacari business from any local laws when operating within the territory of the other party.
Article 3.7: Menelmacar and the Resurgent Dream mutually recognize trademarks and patents certified by the other party.

Section 4: Technology

Article 4.1: Menelmacar commits to sell “Black Knight”-class jump drives to the Resurgent Dream, to install such drives aboard Danaan vessels for efficient, faster-than-light travel and to begin training Danaan engineers so as to render them capable of performing such upgrades on their own in the future.
Article 4.2: The Resurgent Dream commits to upgrade two full Menelmacari fleets for efficient travel to and from the dreaming and for the performance of all ship functions while in the dreaming. And to begin training Menelmacari engineers and magi so as to render them capable of performing such upgrades on their own in the future.

Section 5: Terrorism

Article 5.1: For the purposes of this treaty, terrorism is defined as murder, assault, abduction, large-scale destruction or theft of property, or the threat or attempt of any of the preceding for the purpose of furthering a political, religious, racial, social, or ideological cause. Large-scale property is defined as property, public or private, valued at the equivalent of M€ 500,000 or higher.
Article 5.2: The Resurgent Dream and Menelmacar unequivocally condemn all acts of terrorism.
Article 5.3: The Resurgent Dream and Menelmacar pledge mutual armed support in legitimate anti-terrorist actions where the quantity and nature of such support is contingent upon capability and need.
Article 5.4: The following shall be considered legitimate in the context of this treaty:
5.4.a: Any action taken against terrorists within the borders of whichever of the parties shall initiate the action.
5.4.b: Any action taken against terrorists within the sovereign territory of a third party consenting to such action.
5.4.c: Any action taken against a state sponsoring terrorist activities in either the Resurgent Dream or Menelmacar.
5.4.d: Any action within the borders of a state willfully and knowingly harboring terrorists who are known to have committed terrorist acts in either the Resurgent Dream or Menelmacar.
Article 5.5: In the context of this treaty, an action taken within the sovereign territory of a third party who is not willfully allowing the use of their nation by terrorists but is refusing foreign aid in dealing with a terrorist problem not adequately dealt with by such government is not legitimate.

Article 6: Extradition

Article 6.1: Anyone wanted for criminal or terrorist activities in Menelmacar, and captured in the Resurgent Dream shall be extradited immediately upon request by the Menelmacari government.
Article 6.2: Anyone wanted for criminal or terrorist activities in the Resurgent Dream, and captured by Menelmacar, shall be extradited immediately upon request by the Danaan government.
Article 6.3: Anyone wanted for criminal or terrorist activities in both Menelmacar and the Resurgent Dream shall first be tried in the nation wherein they were captured. After such persons have either been found innocent or served their sentence in the nation wherein they were captured, then they shall be immediately extradited. Those sentenced to capital punishment are obviously not included in this article.

Section 7: Intelligence

Article 7.1: Whenever Menelmacar or the Resurgent Dream should invoke those provisions of this treaty involving anti-terrorist operations in a non-consenting third state, the party so invoking the treaty shall be obliged to share that intelligence which leads them to believe the treaty applies.
Article 7.2: All intelligence shared in accordance with Article 7.1 is to remain classified in the nation receiving such intelligence unless it be declassified by the nation initially collecting it.
Article 7.3: No intelligence shared in accordance with Article 7.1 of this treaty shall be shared with a third power unless explicit consent be obtained from the nation which collected said intelligence.

SIGNED at UINEN ISLAND this 47th day of Hrívë in the 31,894th Year of Menelmacar, 16th day of Jaunuary in the Second Year of the Reign of Agwene:

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Elentári Sirithil nos Fëanor of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar

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High Queen Agwene ni Gwydion of the Danaan High Kingdom of the Resurgent Dream