Playing Rough

It\'s late afternoon, and somewhere within Telpekhor manor, the hushed sounds of ladies\' voices and the clinking of delicate china drift down into the foyer.� There\'s one missing from their number at the little gathering upstairs, however.� Downstairs in an otherwise unoccupied sitting room, accompanied only by a few old books lying on a shelf, Nelladel Telpekhor is sitting in an oversized chair, meticulously pulling the abundance of lace off of a rather unfortunate ladies\' hat.� Her long dark hair has fallen over her shoulder, partially hiding her face.� \"I will -not- wear a bonnet.� Stupid, stupid..\"� Her words are quietly irritated, but the sound does carry.

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����������� Ceredir is bored. Recovering from an injury is long and tedious work, and 6 weeks of being inactive, the 18-year-old Scout is impatient to be fully healed and frustrated at the slow progress of it. Arashen is nowhere to be seen since the morning--something about a duty he had to attend to with his mother, nor is Barsaphad about to pester about fighting techniques or ask about his boat.And so the Scout has spent the day restlessly flitting from one thing to another--over and over he did the exercises the healers had showed him, until his muscle ached. He walked in the gardens, pacing back and forth and not seeing the greenery and flowers. Sat in the library without reading the books. Even went to the kitchens until the household staff, irritated, threw him out. Voices now sound somewhere else in this manner, but the scout frowns--likely they are older women, and he is not interested in talking to them this day.

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And so, for the last 20 minutes or so, he has been practicing...scouting. Booted feet normally sound on the shining floors here, but carefully and over and over again, the Scout has walked to and fro, trying not to make a sound at all, smiling to himself when he finally achieves this. And...for the last 5 minutes at least, he has stood at the doorway where the girl sits, silent and watching her. Waiting for her to notice him--this tall young man who borders on scrawny except for the lean muscles hidden under his clothing. Eyes grey, hair dark of Gondor. Jawline strong and not of this house, though it is reminiscent of another Noble house.

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Finally, perhaps getting the sense that she’s not alone, or simply tiring of the tedious stripping of the bonnet, the girl named Nelladel looks up.� She gasps, then presses her lips together, unsure whether to frown or not.� “It’s bad manners to stare.� Did you know?”� She asks, blushing.� She’s not blushing because of her question though, as the lad can likely tell when Nella looks down at the mess of a hat she’s now got in her lap.� Some of the lace has fallen in a heap by her stocking clad feet.� Her shoes are absent, having likely met their demise somewhere else in the house.� At least her hair, brushed some hundred strokes that morning, is shining and lying perfectly still in place.�

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“My lady,\" Ceredir bends at the waist in a very formal bow, though the grin on his face gives some lie to it. His eyes are narrowed and full of humor. \"Your pardon, Miss, of course. But your great beauty struck me dumb.\" A pause, and Ceredir\'s eyes slowly and very deliberately--boldly, though not in a blatantly aggressive or greedy way--take in the total state of the young woman before him. \"Your beauty, Miss, and the state of your bonnet. But..then...you must be cousin to Arashen or I am mistaken?\"

The girl acknowledges the bow with a nod.� She even begins to smile, noting the bit of sarcasm expressed on Ceredir’s face…until he decides to compliment her.� Her expression changes to that of someone who has just sniffed sour milk.� “I am not beau-” she begins to insist.� That is, until her mother’s scowl and a lecture she’s had many times begins to play in her head.� She quickly changes her tone and forces another smile.� “I beg your pardon.� I meant to say, ‘thank you.”� The color in her face returns as she looks down at the dismembered bonnet again.� “Well, I don’t much care for hats, is all,” she murmurs in her own defense, watching Ceredir all the while, still looking quite unsure.� “Yes, Arashen is my cousin,” she answers.� “I’m Lady Nelladel Telpekhor,” she says, sounding pained at the words.� More brightly, she offers, “Don’t say it in front of my parents, but…you can call me Nella.� Or Nellie.� That’s what my brother Thalion calls me.”� Her dark gray eyes narrow.� “Who are you, anyways?� Here I am, talking endlessly to a stranger in my own home!”

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\"Your pardon, m\'lady,\" the Scout repeats, again bowing, though this time more elaborately. His grey eyes twinkle with mischief. \"I have now committed three offenses against you, it might seem. One, I stared. Two, I dared to call you a beauty. And three, I have not introduced myself. This last I may remedy.\" Another small bow, this one not flowery, but proper. \"I am Ceredir of...\" That brings a small frown to the young man. \"Scout of Ithilien,\" he finishes. \"And guest of the Squire Arashen. We are friends, and as we are both recuperating and I had...nowhere to go but the barracks, he invited me here.\"

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Nelladel frowns hard at Ceredir, uncertain whether the look in his eyes is friendly, or whether he is having a bit of a laugh at her expense with his words about offending her.� \"Well, the staring I didn\'t even notice, so I suppose that was partially my fault.� Also, it may be my mother\'s fault, that I was born with this lovely face,\" Nella supplies helpfully, choosing to be amused along with him.� Oh, the whims of a lady.� \"Ceredir of Ithilien, it is an honor to meet you.� Arashen\'s friend.\"� She rises, watching the lad and forgetting about the hat.� It falls to the floor as she attempts a properly curtsey.� Curiosity does get the better of her, and she shyly looks up through thick eyelashes.� \"Recuperating from what?\"� She looks guilty perhaps her mother has also spoken to her about questions that shouldn\'t be asked upon first meeting a guest.

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\"Nella,\" Ceredir\'s eyes flash with amusement again, but something more--he is pleased, and he says so with his next breath, smile growing. \"I like that. It\'s...different. Nellie..that\'s nice too, but it\'s something I would have thought you call a sister.\" He casually shrugs that statement off, eyes watching the girl for her reaction, though. \"As for the rest, I am glad you didn\'t notice my staring. I was -trying- to not be noticed. It\'s what the Rangers want me to do, after all, and if I can\'t practice in the Garden of Gondor, then why not here, where...other flowers still recall the beauty and glory of our lands?\" Her last question draws a frown. \"We should not speak of that, Lady. Arashen and I were both wounded in duty. Fighting,\" he says, his face clouding. \"But...I am glad that my duty has brought me here, to meet you.\"

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The girl takes her seat again with a rustle of crinoline and tulle.� She looks much more at ease now, sitting with her legs tucked up under her, perched almost like a bird.� There is no spoken reply to what Ceredir says about her name, but she doesn’t try to hide her smile.� Then, curious again, she asks, “Are you a ranger –and- a scout?� That all sounds dangerous, it’s no wonder you were injured!”� Nella exclaims, though Ceredir’s comment about flowers causes the young noble to give him a long and considering glance.� “Why not speak of it?” she presses.� “Fighting for Gondor is the most honorable thing,” Nella says.� Softer, thinking on it, she adds, “Or so I am told.”� The air in the room seems, to Nella, to have turned cold with the somber tone.� She gives Ceredir another very long look, sitting very still, fixing him with her gray-eyed stare.� Finally, she seems to reach a decision: she can trust him.� So she reaches under the chair to pull something out.� It’s a little ball, made from wrapped strips of leather.� Eyes aglow and excited, she asks slyly, “Do you…play games?”

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\"No, no,\" Ceredir laughs. \"I\'m just a scout. It\'s...like a squire. Same kind of rank. Bottom of the heap.\" The scout\'s humor, fades, though, with the girl\'s. \"Miss...Nella. I didn\'t want to speak of it. It -is- an honor, and it is my duty, as well. To keep you safe. But..it is difficult and deadly. And...well, it is not something that one speaks about to a woman. Not to offend you, Nella--I do not say this to belittle you by any means. But...it is full of horrors. Things I wished I never had seen. I do not wish to plant such visions of darkness in your mind as well.\" With that the Scout sighs, leaning back against the door jam and his eyes closing shut. It\'s the girl\'s question that draws his attention again. \"Games?\" His mood clears some, a small smile breaking through the sudden darkness. \"I ...yes...\"

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“Right, like a squire,” Nelladel repeats to try to cover her little mistake.� She looks very solemn, watching Ceredir, despite the fact that she’s in a beautiful gown and holding a dirty old ball.� Her voice is quite somber, too.� “I’d do it, if I could.� Fight.� I bet I’m as quick as you, if not quicker.� And…if you tell my father I said that, I’ll punch you!”� And just like that, she smiles again and her dark mood is broken.� She tosses the ball from hand to hand.� “Yes?”� She raises a brow, her mouth crooked in a half smile.� Then, without so much as a word of warning, she throws the ball to Ceredir!� She’ll be lucky if, in this lovely manor house with its delicate furnishings, Ceredir is able to catch it.

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\"Easy there!\" Though he is startled, the scout\'s hands are quick, and reaches out to grab the ball--the thing thrown a bit wildly and heading toward what is likely an ancient vase. He looks with reproval at the girl--but at the same time, he laughs and pushes the ball in a hard two-handed throw right back at her. \"You couldn\'t punch me if you wanted to,\" Ceredir snorts at her through his laughter.

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“Hahaha!” laughs Nella, clapping her hands together (softly, so as not to draw the attention of the ladies upstairs!).� She looks on with approval at the scout’s quick catch.� But then the ball is shoved hard and fast in her direction!� Nella abandons clapping for a frantic sort of leaping catch of the ball.� She clutches it to her chest, having kept it from making a dent in the wall behind her.� “What did you say?” Nella growls, trying to keep from smiling and at least make an attempt to look like a capable challenger.� The ball is set down in her chair, the lone spectator to the young lady Telpekhor taking a swing with a bony fist at the stomach of a scout of Ithilien.�

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“I said,\" the scout grins, folding his arms over his chest, \"you couldn\'t hit me if you tried.\" He stands unmoving as the girl swings her fist at him, though at the last second he backs up a fraction of an inch, the blow missing his stomach. \"The women of this house,\" he rolls his eyes in mock reproach. \"You\'re a fiery lot.\"

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\"And what would you know about the women of this house?\" Nella demands, her voice raised quite loudly.� So much for not disturbing the ladies upstairs!� \"Nelladeeeeeeel?\" Comes a shrill, older female voice.� Nella responds by putting a hand over Ceredir\'s mouth for silence- if he doesn\'t try to step away from her.� There is a long, heavy sigh, and then the sound of retreating footsteps.� \"Mother,\" the girl mouths, rolling her eyes now.

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His mouth covered by the girl\'s hand, Ceredir goes very still--as still as a well-trained scout should be, in fact. Though, above the hand, his eyes widen, then blink, then crease with laughter. But when the danger is passed, he grabs that hand--very forward of him!--and--even worse!--brushes his lips against her palm before he releases her hand. \"I do not know much, but I would like to learn.\"

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\"Well, pray you live long enough to learn, with the way you\'re carrying on!� My brothers...\" Nella trails off, having grabbed her hand back after the unexpected touch, holding it gingerly as if it were injured.� Then something passes through her eyes, and she seems startled at herself.� She drops her hand, and slowly raises her eyes back to the scout.� \"My brothers need to be sure they mind their own business, and not mine,\" she finishes, still ashamed enough to try to hide her grin.

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The words \"my brothers\" (or worse, \"my father\") are not exactly what most young men like to hear from a pretty young thing, and Ceredir is no exception. The scout pales ever so slightly as the girl first speaks, but his own expression turns puzzled at Nella\'s change of heart. \"Uh...your pardon? I don\'t know what possessed me to do that...\" he starts, looking even more confused. \"Just how many brothers do you have?\"

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Nelladel looks confused as well, watching how Ceredir pales.� Is this not how they flirt, in the city?� She\'s never paid boys much attention before, not in that way, and now she finds herself at a loss.� She answers his question while she\'s thinking, \"Oh, just three.� And you don\'t have to apologize.\"� Of course, she doesn\'t know if that was the right thing to say, either!� She blushes more furiously than before.� Suddenly, though, she feels the need to reassure the scout, \"But I can beat them all at everything we do.� Just like I\'m going to beat you in a game of kicking the ball when we go outside...I know a place...\"� Nella dares to presume that he has the free time to do this.� And what\'s more, she is looking ever so pretty and maybe- despite what she said earlier about not being beautiful- she knows it, just a little.� The way the swan curve of her neck is so pale in the light.� How nice her eyes are...she comes just a little closer, trying not to be transparent about her racing thoughts and racing pulse.

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\"Kick...yes...\" Ceredir repeats the words without paying much attention to them, as he is rather distracted: the girl\'s blush, her moving closer to him, the light in her eyes. He licks his lips and swallows hard. \"We can do that...\" he continues quietly, a hand tentatively reaching out toward Nella\'s hair.

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\"Yes, we can...\"� Nella murmurs needlessly.� She surprises herself at knowing what to do, here.� Her lips brush his neck, and her breath is warm.� She puts a hand on his waist, and then... \"Neeeeeeelladeeeeel!\" Her mother calls down the stairs.� \"What are you up to in there?� You\'re too quiet, and I don\'t trust it!\"� The woman has a voice that many ears would consider abrasive.�

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No further invitation is necessary here. Ceredir\'s hand reaches for the back of the girl\'s hair to tilt her face up to his, and he looks down at her, moving his lips closer and....

\"What?!\" the word isn\'t shouted--he has that much presence of mind--but the scout jumps like a scared cat. In a flash he has given a little bow to the girl, hastened out the door of the room, footsteps clattering in the hallway, and the sound can be heard of a door to the gardens outside being opened and then pulled hastily shut behind him.

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Nelladel is left with her hand grasping at air, gray eyes startled as she watches the scout make his unexpected retreat.� The sort of sleepy, lustful look vanishes so quickly from her gaze at the sound of her mother\'s voice.� Even though Ceredir is on his way out, he may still hear a very exasperated Nella shouting as shrilly as she can in return, \"YES, MOTHER?!\"

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