| Subject: Reflection |
Author:
Namün
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Date Posted: 22:07:52 04/22/02 Mon
On entering Arwen's dressing room laden down with silken outfits, Namün was instantly confronted by a huge, brightly polished mirror. She stopped. When was the last time she had seen her own reflection full length? Certainly a very long time.
Critically, she looked at herself, not sure if she liked what she saw. She'd lost weight, she noticed with surprise, and some worry. Her gaze rose from her figure, stopping self-consciously on the still clear scar running from the base of her neck along her collarbone and down towards her right breast. The white blouse she wore was not enough to conceal the harsh evidence of her tumultous past. Namün studied her face. To her mind, she was not attractive. Certainly no rival for the elaborately dressed and made-up court women. Her face had no softness about it, every feature stood out starkly- flashing black eyes framed by long dark lashes, full, pouting red lips, strong jawline and cheekbones. Everything about her spoke of passion and fire, but she saw no beauty there. Long, loose curls in raven black fell haphazardly over her shoulders, uncombed. She looked wild; dramatic contrast to the delicate noblewomen she served under. They were pale flowers, living sheltered lives. Namün had skin far closer to golden, and had no one but herself to rely on. She was, she admitted to herself, far more of a bramble than a flower.
She heard movement in the rooms outside and instantly deposited the gowns, before going to see who had invaded her workspace. Lying on the bed was a man who, on closer inspection, turned out to be the king. Namün hovered in undecision. What was she supposed to do?
"My Lord?"
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