The Korner of Kwibblett

Nallette Nellibee was not supposed to be dreading the Anticipated Festive Ball. Nallette Nellibee wasn’t supposed to be a lot of things, and her dreading of the Anticipated Festive Ball was a prime example of one such thing she was not supposed to be. Nallette was also not supposed to have deep auburn hair. She was supposed to have blonde hair--but she didn’t. She was not supposed to have brown eyes, either. She was supposed to have blue eyes--but she didn’t. Nallette wasn’t supposed to be tall (she actually wasn’t tall in the truth of the matter--but for a Nellibee, five feet and four and a half inches is a towering and unheard of height). She was supposed to be short--five feet or perhaps a bit shorter, just like the rest of the Nellibee nobles. Just like the rest of the Nellibees she was supposed to have shining gold hair, sapphire (and only sapphire--no other shades of blue mockery) blue eyes, and be a proper Nellibee.

Nallette Nellibee was supposed to be a proper Nellibee--but she wasn’t. On top of her hair being an unusual shade of red (unusual for even the strangest noble families like the Clogropses), Nallette’s hair was always extremely messy. No matter what she tried to do with it, her hair insisted on remaining in a state of disorderly disarray. Her peculiar dark brown eyes were not so uncommon among other nobles but when standing beside anyone in her family, her eyes too were an obvious lack of resemblance. Nallette had tried to change both her hair color and eye color with a spell she found within one of the books in her father’s library but it had proved undoubtedly and absolutely useless. For weeks after the attempt Nallette had thought she saw her hair growing lighter--when in actuality a new maid had been employed in the Nellibee manor and she was much better at keeping the lamps lit than her predecessor. Finding that her looks could not be put right, she did put forth an effort to make her behavior suitable for a Nellibee. However, Nellibees were not supposed to spend more time reading books than standing in front of the mirror. Nellibees were also not supposed to argue with their elders over the political correctness of Giant Rights. Nellibees were not supposed to tear holes in their stockings and unravel the hems of their skirts. Nallette did all of these things, though, and even though she honestly tried to primp before a mirror and keep her opinions to herself and keep her clothes out of harm’s way--she couldn’t manage to accomplish any of the proper behaviors of a Nellibee.

Nallette Nellibee was not supposed to be dreading the Anticipated Festive Ball--but she was. She had been dreading it ever sense her mother told her about it and she was dreading it even more as the hour drew nearer. Nallette wasn’t really sure which would be worse, getting ready for the ball with her older sisters or the tedious carriage ride to the castle.

“You need some rouge,” Esella informed Nallette.

Before Nallette had a chance to respond her sister was smearing large quantities of deep red lip rouge over her lips. From past experience, Nallette knew it was best just to not fight her eldest sister’s judgment--or lack there of. Instead she obliged and let Esella smear to her heart’s content. Esella was a proper Nellibee. She looked like a Nellibee was supposed to and she behaved like a Nellibee was supposed to. She had blonde hair that was always neat, just like she was supposed to. She also had sapphire blue eyes, just like she was supposed to. Just like she was supposed to, she was respectably five feet tall and she was not dreading the Anticipated Festive Ball. Presently Esella stepped back from her younger sister and examined her. With a slight nod and a smile of meager encouragement, Esella turned back to the mirror to apply more rouge to her own lips.

Nallette crossed to the full length mirror on the other side of the room and scowled at her reflection. Not only did the rouge not suit her remotely, none of it suited her remotely. Her mother had picked out a particularly frilly and horrendous dress with aged lace and a sickly green color for the material and ribbons. Two obtrusive matching sickly bows were positioned in her blaring red hair that had refused to behave itself, even on a night like this. Her face looked ghostly pale as well, as a result of excessive powder application provided by Esella. The more Nallette scowled the more her reflection scowled, and soon she turned from the scowling image of her unhappy self and went in search of her stockings and slippers. Once she had pulled on her stockings and shoes Nallette returned to the mirror, more to comfort her sisters rather than any actual desire to gaze upon her own reflection.

After a painfully long wait as Esella, Cindra, and Treiley further powdered their faces and unnecessarily repositioned their various ribbons and bows, the four sisters made their way down to the parlor. The parlor was a large room with a beautiful marble floor and fashionable carpet furniture. The central staircase leading through the entire mansion began in the parlor, opening to the room with elaborate flamboyance hardly required of a staircase. Nallette always felt very conspicuous when she walked down that staircase. The eyes belonging to anyone who was seated in the parlor would turn their (usually sapphire) gaze upon her. As well as the pairs of eyes, the chandeliers far above seemed to have a glistening gaze of their own as they watched over the room below. This evening in particular, Nallette felt as though she were on parade for her family and the chandeliers as she walked down the steps to the parlor in her unbecoming green frills. With every step all that Nallette could think of was those ugly green frills and with every step she began to hate the frills even more. By the time she and her sister’s reached the landing, Nallette had developed a hatred so passionate for her dress that she was most seriously considering ruthlessly ripping every one of those flaccid frills (needless to say there were a great many steps). Somehow Nallette restrained herself, though, and found herself perfectly frill-covered before her father, mother, and eight brothers.

Thedrous Nellibee smiled at each of his daughters in turn as they stepped onto the marble parlor floor. “You all look lovely,” he said softly. But then, Lord Nellibee always had a soft tone of voice so he said everything rather softly. He, like all the other Nellibees save Nallette, was a very soft-spoken noble and as a result didn’t say very much in the way of opinion or counsel at court. The head of the house’s voice in court had very little to do with anything in truth, just heritage relating to one of the noble houses was reason enough to be expected at such gatherings as the Anticipated Festive Ball. Like most noblemen and noblewoman, the Nellibees lived for social gatherings. Balls and formal dinners and the like were anticipated and planned and generally fussed over by every Nellibee--except Nallette.

“To the carriages?” Alisan Nellibee asked her husband.

“Yes, dear,” Thedrous Nellibee said, extending his arm to the glittering blonde woman beside him. “Come along children.” Obediently all eleven of the Nellibee children ranging from ages twelve (Roe--the youngest of all of them, Nallette being second youngest at thirteen) all the way to seventeen-year-old Esella followed their parents through the parlor. Through the great ornate double doors they went, down the terraced walkway and right up to the waiting carriages.

Three carriages sat outside the Nellibee manor, waiting for the Nellibees to use them. The decorative handles and horse-harnesses reminded Nallette of the horrid lace brushing her leg through the stocking. As she approached the coach she couldn’t stand it anymore, and reached to scratch the place where the stiff lace agitated her skin. A footman opened the door in the same moment, staring blankly ahead with apathetic unconcern and all sense of duty and properness. When Nallette bent over and the door opened her head collided with the side with a loud smacking sound. The startled footman let down his sophisticated countenance and looked down to see what he had hit. Swearing rather loudly he bent over and began profusely apologizing.

All the Nellibees had turned to stare in wide-eyed horror at the whole event, their eyes drawn by the sound of Nallette’s head colliding with the carriage door. Nallette first had to fight back the strong and uncalled for urge to laugh, and then she stood up and brushed herself off and tried to assure the footman she was perfectly all right. When the footman finally stopped his heavy stream of apologies the family started into the carriages once more, most of them a bit more tense and stiff than before, and Nallette very much more amused than before.

Soon, Nallette had come to decide that the carriage ride was worse than the general primping and preparing. A carriage ride that was only a mere matter of minutes to the castle felt like a very painful and tortured lifetime as her sisters and mother talked of matters of social standing and the latest fashions as the carriage rode leisurely over the smooth cobbled road, bouncing ever so slightly and swerving on a turn. Then an awkward silence would stretch between them until someone broke it with a tactful piece of trivia. Nallette was never the one to break it, however. She tried to avoid saying anything at all the whole journey, the entire stretching, tiresome journey. It actually wasn’t a journey per se, as all the nobles lived in close proximity to each other (just far away enough for carriage rides to and from) and the castle was positioned in the middle of the clustered noble houses.

All things considered, it certainly seemed like a long time to Nallette with her sisters and mother brimming with finesse and charm and practicing their small talk and tinkling laughs on each other. Nallette was praying that the carriage would suddenly tip over just to liven things up a bit when they finally came to a stop in front of the castle.

“Ooh! It’s simply splendid, mother, just look!” Cindra cooed as she drew back a curtain of the carriage.

Nallette didn’t see what was so especially splendid about the castle. It looked as it always did for every gathering she had ever attended in her thirteen years of attending such things. For every one of these gatherings her sister’s had claimed it looked splendid, but Nallette was thoroughly unimpressed. The castle looked much like the manors of the nobles except for three times as large with a great deal more turrets. The footman, who still looked exceedingly apologetic, opened the carriage door for the Nellibee ladies, and one by one they stepped out. Through the great doors they went, up a staircase, across a hallway, into a beautiful ballroom. The second the ballroom doors opened a gust of heavy perfume and the sound of clinking glasses and pleasant chattering greeted the Nellibees. Without speaking the Nellibees scattered to their respective stations. Lord Thedrous Nellibee to converse with the other noblemen, Lady Alisan Nellibee and her eldest daughter to twinkle politely with the other noblewomen, the boys to meet up with other young nobles, Cindra and Treiley to talk quietly amongst themselves, and Nallette to stand awkwardly beside the doors, longing to pass through them once more.

On her way to the doors, Nallett was forced to veer from her original path in an effort to disappear among the other nobles when she spotted Lady Packsidont coming towards her. A plump woman with flushed cheeks and forever-pursed lips, Mamera Packsidont had taken it upon herself to properly verse Nallette in the art of unpleasantries. Ever sense she was eight, Mamera had picked her out among the sparkling, satin adorned nobles to say rude things and comment with the tone of someone performing a great charity. Seeing her coming, Nallette darted between clusters of nobles to escape Mamera’s uncomfortable presence. Glancing back, Nallette saw the plump noblewoman practically joging, people shifting out of her way as she went, beady eyes fixed upon her prize like a very fat dog chasing a fox. Finally Mamera caught up with Nallette and she had no choice but to plaster a smile and talk to the winded Lady Packsidont.

Mamera waited for Nallette to address her, her eyes saying quite clearly that Nallette had no chance of worming out of it. For a moment the two of them simply stood there among the churning ballroom around them, neither speaking but staring at each other locked in a competition. Mamera Packsidont’s will prevailed and Nallette said rather reproachfully, “Good evening, Lady Packsidont.” A fleeting smile of triumph passed over Mamera Packsidont’s face. “Good evening, girl,” she replied in her deep guttural tone. “I don’t like your tone of voice. When you address me you address me with respect and dignify.” “Dignity,” Nallette corrected her.

Lady Packsidont glared at her. “Both of which you lack. How does your poor mother fair?”

“Quite well,” Nallette said rigidly. “Shall I have the pleasure of informing her you are well, too?” She hoped very much that Lady Packsidont wouldn’t be doing well at all. Mamera didn’t offer Nallette such a satisfaction, though.

“Yes, you shall,” Lady Packsidont said with a sniff. A stretch of silence ensued as the large woman examined Nallette. Her examination was quite different from Esella’s. The difference was that Mamera Packsidont judged while Esella only examined. “You’re far too thin, child. Positively scrawny. It is a very unbecoming quality for a young lady, you know.”

Should I be as fat as you or a cow? There isn’t much difference, though. The only thing is the cow isn’t quite as fat, Nallette heard her own voice say inside her head. With much excersise of self-restraint she kept this comment to her own private thoughts and left it unvoiced to the woman it was directed at.

“That color doesn’t suit you.” Mamera declared after a moment.

Nallette felt her face grow hot. “Well I apologize that my clothing is not satisfactory for the fashionable Lady Packsidont,” she said defiantly, clearly not sorry at all. Nallette loathed her dress, but she loathed Lady Packsidont even more.

“Do I detect impudence in your voice?” Lady Packsidont said pulling herself up to her full height, which was a good deal taller than Nallette. Nallette raised her chin. She was not in any mood to deal with Lady Packsidont this evening. Nallette knew very well that Mamera would storm off to tell her mother just what a horrid girl she was, but she found she did not care. “Impudence, defiance, audacity, insolence, any of those will do to describe what your oh so keen intuition detected in my voice,” Nallette would have liked to add hatred but didn’t.

“Well!” Mamera Packsidont said, her face growing redder than usual. She opened her mouth to go on but Nallette turned away before she could say a word.

She really shouldn’t have talked to Lady Packsidont in that way but Nallette found it most satisfying to see her gaping like her air supply had been cut off. In fact, the combined expression of Lady Packsidont and her parents when she was hit with the carriage door put Nallette in a very good mood as she maneuvered her way to the doors.

Soon her good spirits faded as she stood awkwardly by the door. Nallette hovered by the doors, her parents talked with their fellow nobles, and her brothers and sisters behaved as perfectly upstanding young nobles. In this fashion the night dragged on with the modifications of King Qeisler joining the assembly of noblemen, Cindra and Treiley joining their mother and Nallette sitting down on the floor in the alcove between the door and the wall. She remained in the recess area behind the door just out of sight and perfectly forgotten, as she preferred it.

Nallette was undisturbed and left with her own thoughts all evening. A majority of her evening was spent wondering why it was called the Anticipated Festive Ball. Weren’t all balls relatively festive? It was practically in their definition to be festive and in the definition of a noble to anticipate such festivities. So was this ball especially festive and anticipated or had the king just run out of names for all his social functions? Nallette decided it was the latter, for there was nothing especially special about the Anticipated Festive Ball. There was nothing especially special about any of the royal celebrations. They were all just twinkling, laughing, talking and a fair amount of eating. When this conclusion had been drawn Nallette became thoroughly and utterly unbearably bored with the entire ball. When the dancing began and the orchestra raised their instruments to play the night away with mind-numbingly similar melodies Nallette couldn’t take it anymore. Decisively she stood up and skirted around the door, careful to avoid the glance of her parents or Lady Packsidont.

Nallette was very sure she was going in the right direction of the exit until she turned a corner that should have gotten her to the staircase and found herself face to face with a coat of arms. Her mood thoroughly turned around sense her encounter with Lady Packsidont, Nallette glared up at the unseeing metal helmet as if it was responsible for her disorientation and eventual state of being lost within the castle. Unfortunately, the armor offered no help no matter how fiercely she glared, so Nallette turned back around and tried to find her way without any help from inanimate objects.

At some point she found a staircase—only to discover it wasn’t the right staircase. Instead of the entry hall the staircase spat the despairing Nallette into a hallway turning off into vast expanse of bookshelves that must have been the royal library. Two of her father’s libraries could have fit snugly into the castle library but Nallette had the feeling the royal library was used even less often than the Nellibee library. A thick layer of dust had gathered on all the shelves and the decorative carpet floor, perfectly undisturbed for ages. Nallette’s slippers made dark footprints appear on the dusty floor, and clouds billowed up around her ankles as she walked towards the back of the library. The back wall was barely visible behind a myriad of maps and a long slender table set against the wall supported diagrams of the terrain. Nallette had always loved the sparse collection of maps in her father’s library. She could remember many nights spent pouring over the twisting lines of a map, trying to commit the impossible unpredictable maze of ink to memory.

Nallette wasn’t sure just how long she stood there staring up at the maps. The king had maps of the Pwieze Peaks, a stretching mountain range running along the eastern edge of Wrielryn; he had a map of his own castle (which Nallette probably should have been the most interested in, given the currant state of things), and a map of all of the land of Wrielryn. She was most attracted to the large map in the middle of all the rest. This one was charting completely all the land the king’s reign could touch and some of it that he couldn’t. Her dark eyes traveled over the mountain range, then a stretch of formless plains interrupted occasionally by a river or a few mentionable hills, then into her favorite feature of the land--Forest Frynd. Forest Frynd was the one region that the king had no maps of, other than this very general and detail lacking central diagram. Nallette had been interested in the forest for roughly a year now, just because of its absence from any library she had ever been in. A large brown volume Nallette had found in the Hualace’s library at an especially dull dinner party gave a description of the forest, in very vague terms and hinted the reason for its desertion of any maps. According to the book, Forest Frynd shifted. The book didn’t mention what shifted--just that the forest shifted. So Nallette had the image in her mind of a great emerald forest churning and changing constantly. This inadequate explanation of Frynd had only increased Nallette’s fascination for the forest that surfaced only in insufficient brushes with literature.

Suddenly the silence of the library was broken by the sound of clattering metal. Nallette spun around, her heart jumping in her chest in startled fright. For a moment things were silent again, then a furious scratching sound drifted down to Nallette. She followed the sound cautiously out of the library and found a fat, unsightly greyish purple gargoyle sitting in the midst of detached armor, trying to get his claws into the marble floor and not going anywhere. The platemail and the helmet was the only part of the suit of armor that had managed to stay intact during the collision Nallette assumed had occurred. Presently the helmet rocked unsteadily atop metalic shoulders and fell off onto the gargoyle’s head. The creature let out a terrible shrieking noise and began to race around the hallway bumping into walls.

“Shh! Quiet!” Nallette hissed at it.

The gargoyle’s screaches only grew louder. It was only a matter of time before the sound of rushing feet above would join with the gargoyle’s muffled cries. Nallette gave up quieting the creature and began to chase after it to get the offensive helment off. Grabbing the creature underneath its gnarled arms, Nallette lifted it up only to have the gargoyle get louder, lashing out. It tore away at her skirts with its sharp back claws as she lifted it up. With a front paw it made contact with her skin and created several thin scarlet cuts across her arm and she was forced to drop it. It skidded away howling madly. Suddenly it slid and dropped off of an unseen edge. Nallette followed to find the gargoyle bouncing down yet another staricase. By the time it was at the bottom, the thing was thoroughly dizzy and unable to put up much of a struggle as Nallette took the helmet off.

After that the gargoyle quieted down and contented itself to roam nonchelauntly through the halls. Nallette followed its example and turned the other way to look for an exit--at this point any exit would do--and left the gargoyle for a maid with armed with a broom to deal with. Gargoyles were very bothersome things. They were certainly not uncommon at any noble house, large stone structures simply teemed with gargoyles. But other than gargoyles Nallette rarely saw any other sort of magical creature. She had seen a dremling rose bush once, but it had been shooed away by her older brother and she hadn’t gotten a proper look at it. Other than that, magical creatures were something she read about in books and heard about from her father. Apparently most creatures were a nuisance that the court sometimes had to deal with. Still, Nallette had always thought it would be terribly interesting to meet a magical creature.

Nallette entertained herself with the prospect of magical creatures for the remainder of the time she spent wondering through the castle until she at least found herself in a well-gardened courtyard. It was in such good upkeep a gardener was working in it even now. He gave Nallette a questioning look, eyeing her torn skirts and bloody arms but didn’t say a word. He probably would have stared if she hadn’t had a run-in with the gargoyle. Servants always gave Nallette’s hair wondering glances. It was very uncommon for a noble’s hair to be anything but perfect and Nallette’s hair was always anything but perfect. Because of past experience, Nallette didn’t give the gardener a second thought as she continued through the maze of flowers and neatly trimmed bushes.

She was walking towards an unusual purple flower when it happened. Nallette took a step towards the flower--and quite suddenly she was no longer in the garden.