Harmindon's Finest

Chapter 22 - A Friend of Prince Eldarion's

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My teeth chattered as I rearranged my display of shawls.

I'd arranged them twice already, in different formations or patterns. There was no point to this because my original display was vivid enough and attracted sufficient custom anyway, but I did it because it kept me on my feet and stopped my fingers from freezing solid altogether.

I'd started a habit of sewing at my stall, to keep my fingers occupied, but now they were just so cold I could barely hold the dainty bone needle, let alone thread it or attempt embroidery.  It would take little under an hour when I returned to my accommodation that evening to warm my fingers by the fire enough that the joints were flexible enough for sewing, so I did that mostly by candlelight. At the moment though I sat on my newly acquired stool behind the counter, miserably hiding my fingers in the edge of my second shawl. I'd purloined another from my display that morning for some extra warmth.

I wondered whether Malbeth, the soldier - lieutenant, he'd corrected me once, whatever that meant - would visit today. It was his week on night duty, so it was likely, because he tended to avoid my stall when on duty but often sought me out in his spare time. I liked his company, because I could practise my Westron and ask him questions that he was happy to answer. 

"Aren't you cold, my lady?"

There he was, of course, tall as ever.

"No, sir, you are mistaken. I am as warm as a baker's oven - I am practically steaming, look."

I held up my fingers sarcastically - big mistake, because both shawls slipped from my shoulders and fell to the frozen ground. A blast of air chilled my bare arms, and I scrambled to wrap myself up again (and more importantly, regain some dignity).

Malbeth looked as though he was trying to decide whether to laugh or be sympathetic.

"Did you ever think about getting yourself some gloves, or a proper cloak?" He suggested, leaning against my counter casually. It was a movement as simple as this that made me glad the woodworkers here were more skilled than my father, for if he'd leaned against my old stall like this I'd have elbowed him off for fear it would break or fall over. I was glad this wasn't the case anymore.

"What is gloves?" I wanted to know.

"You honestly don't know? These are gloves, look. Stick your hands in for a moment and warm yourself up."

He took off the thick material that covered his hands and held them out to me.

"Gloves." I tested out the word several times as I slipped them on. They were warm already from Malbeth's hands, and were lined with fur. "Do all soldiers wear these?"

"Not just the soldiers, Jeddah - everyone wears these in the winter, they keep your hands warm. These are particularly good ones, though. Why do you not have some already? Surely you've seen others wear them."

I shrugged, trying to hide my embarrassment with a thin veneer of disdain. "Yes, but I didn't like to ask about them. I would sound idiotic."

Malbeth raised an eyebrow. "Nobody could call you idiotic, Jeddah. The fact that you can speak to me so easily after only a few months of living here being one of many."

I didn't know how to reply to that kind of compliment, so I deigned to smile a little. He of course cleared his throat quickly and changed the subject.

"I suppose you're looking forward to when Princess Túrien - or ramyahani, whatever she's called nowadays. She's due sometime this week for the Winter Council, with her husband and an entire entourage of Haradrim folk. And she has a daughter now too - it's probably the first time the king will see his first granddaughter, because he was the only one of the family not to go to Harad when she was born. Eldarion told me he's quite excited."