"I am no child Grandmother."- Anberenien

30th July/ Cerveth T.A 3004 The Village of Duincar

Duincar was the last Dúnedain settlement on the Trollshaws and a day's ride from Rivendell. Hidden from the Great East road by woodland, elders who had grown too old for a life in the wilds defended its gates. A high wooden fence with a deep ditch, used as a midden to deter any intruders, surrounded it. And by the river were strips of land for the villagers to grow food for themselves and for trade. Within its defences, Dunicar was no different to other small settlements. With modest, single-storey thatched dwellings. There were Outbuildings and paddocks to house the livestock. A blacksmith's forge and a large coop for the Cock and his harem of laying hens.

A Great Hall stood proudly in the centre of the Village. It was a two-storey timber-framed building of wattle and daub with a high-pitched thatched roof. On each end of the building were crossbeams carved with flora and fauna. On the roof itself were thatched images of eagles taking flight and a small hole in the centre where wisps of smoke came through. Within the roof, small windows peeked out through the thatch, allowing light to enter the upper rooms.

Lower windows were woven into the walls of the hall with wooden shutters to block out the light or the worst of the weather when required. These were wide open so that the inhabitants of the hall could enjoy the warm light breezes of the season. The hall had one entranceway that was with the word 'Welcome', carved in both Westron and Elvish. The inhabitants of Duincar felt safe and untroubled by the outside world. Now they prepared to celebrate the seventh birthday of their lord's only child, his daughter, Anberenien. As the sun lowered gently lowered in the sky, she and the other children played, their daily chores completed.

Anberenien was a slight child, with pale skin and long dark hair braided in loose pigtails. Not only did her kyrtle of fine brown wool, and the fact she was wearing boots, set her apart from her playmates. Her eyes shone brightly against the sea of grey and brown eyes of the other children. Anberenien was playing catch with a tall thin boy with messy brown hair. When she threw the ball a little too far and her friend missed the catch. The ball hit the shoulder of another boy. He was stocky, with thick black curly hair.

He turned angrily in the direction the ball had come from, fixing his gaze on Anberenien's companion. "Did you throw that, serf boy?"

The other boy opened his mouth to reply, but Anberenien interrupted him. "No, I did."

"My Lady didn't mean to, Borion, it was an accident," replied the boy.

Borion picked up the ball and examined it. It was tightly sewn together with offcuts of leather and fitted neatly in the palm of the hand. He tossed the ball, catching it with the other hand as he smirked back at her. "Well Elf eyes. You should have been more careful. It's mine now!" There was a gasp from some of the girls, but the boys surrounding Borion sniggered.

"It is not mine. It is Rodon's and you should address me as my Lady," replied Anberenien.

The other boys sniggered even louder as Borion stepped towards her. "You should address me as my lady."

Anberenien marched up to Borion. Her eyes lit up like flames and made a grab for the ball. "I order you to return it to Rodon.... now!" But Borion held it further out of her reach.

He looked down at the furious little girl and burst out laughing. "And who is going to make me, Elf eyes, your lord, father? Oh no, he's far away in Breeland watching Halflings."

Anberenien's nostrils flared, and she seemed to grow taller. "You dare call me that again, Borion!"

"My lady, it is not worth it. Let him keep the ball. I can make another," called Rodon. He came forth and stood in front of Anberenien, shaking, with his fists clenched. "Leave her alone. You'll only come off worse!"

Borion came up close to Rodon and poked him in the chest. "What are you going to do about it, serf boy?" He pushed him to the ground, then kicked him in the stomach. "Stay out of this if you know what's good for you." Borion loomed over Rodon as he groaned in pain. "It is about time someone taught you your place, serf boy!"

But before Borion could continue his assault, a hard push sent him crashing to the ground. In shock, he looked up to find Anberenien standing over him, glaring menacingly. "Leave Rodon alone!" And a sharp kick from her boot made contact with his groin.

"Oww, you little!" cried Borion, doubling over in pain and surprise. But she was not finished with him. Anberenien flew at Borion, sitting on his chest and beating him with her fists.

Other children playing nearby cheered and laughed as Anberenien brought her fury down upon Borion. This caught the attention of some of the adults, including Rodon's parents. Labes, who was at the entrance of the Great Hall, called out to Lady Naerien as Tolben ran over to Rodon. "What happened, son? My Lady will be none too happy about this," he said as he helped him to stand.

By now a crowd had gathered, and Borion was wailing like a baby. "Get her off me, get her off me, she's gone mad, like her mother!" Smack! Blood came oozing out of Borion's nose as Anberenien's tiny fist punched him in the nose.

"You dare say that about my mother!"

Lady Naerien came striding out of the Great Hall. She wore a long Kyrtle of the same fine brown wool as Anberenien. Two large silver brooches strung with beads were fixed between her shoulders and bust. Her long, dark red-brown hair was bound in a four-strand braid that hung to her waist. It was covered in a light silk veil pinned to a small cap underneath. She reached the children and pulled Anberenien off Borion by the scruff of her Kyrtle. "Anberenien, what do you think you are doing?"

By now the crowd was dispersing except for Borion's furious mother, her black curls bouncing out from under her kerchief as she appealed to Naerien. "With all due respect, my Lady. You should take a firmer hand with the child. She is half-wild at times."

Rodon called out, explaining what took place, and that Anberenien had been defending him. But Naerien dismissed both him and his father, sending them back to their duties.

Naerien looked at the woman sternly. "I might say the same about your son. This is not the first time he has been caught bullying other children. Need I remind you, I have the authority to have you and your whole family cast out from our village if you cannot keep your son in check. I suggest you take a firmer hand with Borion in future."

At this, the colour drained from the face of Borion's mother and she grabbed her son by the scruff and clipped him around the ear. "Come on lad, apologise to, my Lady, and the young lady too."

Borion wiped the blood still dripping from his nose and managed an awkward bow. "Sorry, my Lady, I was just playing, I meant no harm. Here, take this back to Rodon." He pulled the ball out of the pocket of his trouse and tossed it towards Anberenien. She caught it nimbly, slightly smirking as she did so.

Naerien frowned at him, her arms folded. "Now take your leave and remember how to behave in front of your Lord and his kin in future." Rodon's mother hauled him away, scolding him loudly all the way back to their dwelling.

Villagers now resumed their daily tasks, many returning to their homes to prepare supper. Naerien took hold of Anberenien's hand and marched her back to the Great Hall. "What am I to do with you? That boy is twice your age and twice your size. You could have been injured or worse. What will your father say?"

Anberenien looked up into her mother's despairing face. "Grandmother always says I should stand up to bullies." Naerien rolled her eyes and led Anberenien through the entranceway.

Inside the high-roofed chamber, Labes was preparing supper at the large central hearth. Like most of the married women of the village, she too wore a kerchief over her hair. Denoting both her status and keeping her hair out of the way. While Labes stirred the larger cauldron, smoke coiled up to the vent in the roof and outside.

At the far end of the Hall was a small dais, upon which stood two large wooden chairs and a small stool. This was where Anberenien's father held his monthly court. She would sit on the stool whilst her father gave judgement on matters that were brought before him. Her mother sat in the chair beside him. But lately, her mother had been presiding over these hearings.

By the hearth was a large table with benches on either side, used for both food preparation and eating. On one side of the chamber, stairs led up to an upper level where three engraved doors could be seen and upon the walls were black flags with silver sceptres sewn onto them. The Sigil of Arnor and of the house of Isildur. So Anberenien's father had told her on one of his rare visits home.

On the bench by the hearth, Rodon was chopping vegetables and beside him, another woman was skinning rabbits. She was a tall, strong-looking woman, but the lines of age now showed on her face and her reddish brown hair was flecked with grey. She was bareheaded, wore men's attire, and a clay pipe dangled from her mouth. Although strangely dressed, she had an air of authority about her that gave away her noble heritage. She was Anberenien's grandmother, Gruinith the Cheerless.

Gruinith looked up as Anberenien and her mother entered the Hall. "I wish you would not do that over the meat Mother, you will taint it," complained Naerien.

"Well, I think it improves the flavour," replied Gruinith. She held her knife out, smirking. "You can always skin the meat yourself, Naerien."

Naerien rolled her eyes.

"Suit yourself then," said Gruinith. She then noticed a dirt-caked Anberenien and laughed. "What mischief have you been up to now, Little Sparrow?" Naerien explained what she had found after Labes had called her outside. Gruinith put down her knife and approached Anberenien with a stern look on her face. "Oh aye, what happened this time, child?"

Anberenien looked her grandmother straight in the eye. "I am no child, Grandmother. Borion took Rodon's ball and called me names, so I taught him a lesson."

Gruinith gave her a wink."Did you give him a right hook?"

Anberenien grinned broadly. "Aye, I did. There was blood coming out of his nose and everything."

"Good for you, Little Sparrow." and messed her hair.

Naerien gasped. "Mother! Don't encourage her. Anberenien, go and change out of those dirty things and wash for supper."

Anberenien climbed the stairs and entered her room. It was a modest bedroom, furnished with a single bed under a small glass window nestled in the thatched roof. There were also a couple of chests and a sideboard, with a little shelf above. Upon this shelf were several cherished items. Beads, feathers, pine cones, stones and two wooden toys. One was a brown Hare roughly carved, and the other was a more delicately carved wooden stag, painted white. Next to these, a dust ring revealed another item that had recently sat on the shelf which was no longer there. Here Anberenien placed the ball for safekeeping, fully intending to return it to Rodon later.

Once she had cleaned up and changed for supper, Anberenien returned to her mother downstairs, who was now reading a message that had arrived that morning whilst eating her stew. Rodon had already left the hall, presumably to assist his father in some errand.

Naerien smiled as Anberenien joined her on the bench. "Good news. Your father is on his way home. He should arrive by morning and we should all be able to go to market together for your birthday."

Anberenien beamed. "Pappa will be here?"

"Of course, seven is a special birthday, Anberenien."

Labes handed Gruinith two bowls and wedges of bread. Gruinith handed one of each to Anberenien before sitting beside her. "It will be good news indeed if he stays longer than a couple of days."

"It being a special occasion, Halbarad, and Aragorn will be joining him," said Naerien.

Grandmother rolled her eyes. "Oh, our Chieftain deems it fit to grace us with his presence, does he?"

"He is Anberenien's Guardian if Beren should perish out in the Wilds. It would only be right for him to attend. And you had better be on your best behaviour."

"Would that me or Little Sparrow, Naerien?" replied Gruinth.

"Both of you, there will be much to prepare before they arrive."

Anberenien greedily tucked into her meal whilst her mother and grandmother discussed the arrangements. As she wiped the last dregs of the bowl with bread, Gruinith rose from the table. She walked over to a chest by the entranceway and took out two sticks carved to look like blades. "Are you ready then, Little Sparrow?" she called and tossed the sticks to Anberenien.

She caught them in each hand, and Grandmother smiled. "Very good, you learn quick, now let us make good use of the light left in the sky." Anberenien grinned and together they exited the Hall.