The Lost Boys by Lady MSM

Her Highness

Her Highness

“Miss, you can’t be barefoot in here,” scolded the barkeep. The cloaked woman who had just entered flipped back her hood, revealing a bright gold braid (oddly streaked with black) and an annoyed expression.

“Is that so?” Idril, princess of Gondolin, inquired coolly. “I thought I had made an agreement with all the business owners in this city that I am allowed to be barefoot wherever I want.”

The barkeep seemed temporarily stunned, but recovered her composure quickly. “Goodness, I’m sorry, your Highness. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Perfectly all right. Don’t lose any sleep over it. Now, where…ah, there they are.”

The boys looked on in surprise as Idril calmly slid onto the bench next to Glorfindel, draping her cloak over the back. She raised an eyebrow at their expressions. “Why is everyone giving me that look tonight?”

“Well, there are several reasons,” Ecthelion replied. “The main one being that seeing that a princess in a pub is a somewhat abnormal occurrence. Also, what are those black streaks in your hair?”

“There’s what in my hair?” Idril pulled her braid over her shoulder to inspect it. “Oh, bloody hell, I must have stuck my pen in my hair without realizing it again.” As if just realizing he was there, she turned to Tuor with a dazzling smile. “Hello, new boy.”

 “Oh, er…hello,” said Tuor, with that combination of eagerness and intimidation always apparent when he talked to Idril. “What brings you here?”

“If I did one more minute of paperwork I was going to scream,” said Idril with a shudder. “I remembered you lads often went to the pub around this time and I thought I’d come see you.” She said this presumably to everyone, though it seemed to the others that it was aimed specifically at Tuor. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Are you joking? We’re honored,” said Glorfindel. “Anyone up for a game of Rat Trap?”

Rat Trap—a card game most residents of Gondolin had been playing since they were children—involved a lot of slapping the table in order to claim useful cards. At one point, Idril’s hand hit the table immediately before Tuor’s came down on top of hers.

They stared at each other briefly, eyes wide, before Idril snatched her hand away—and the cards with it.

“I win,” she said briskly, before pulling on her cloak and hurrying out of the building, leaving the boys looking confusedly after her.

Idril stopped coming with them to the pub after that.