"Your offer is very kind and noble, yet it seems cruel to lock my daughter away in a tower," - Beren.

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

Naerien watched enviously as Labes sat down to supper with her family at the other end of the Hall. If only Beren would give up his life in the wilds and remain in the village. Not that Tolben had much of a choice after losing an arm. Anberenien would not be a child forever and he had already missed so much of her growing. Perhaps if he were home more often, Anberenien would get into less trouble.

Naerien had tried to raise her to be the lady Beren wanted her to be. She had taught Anberenien more genteel skills such as sewing and embroidery, but the child showed little aptitude or interest in such things. But she had mastered the runes very quickly and now that she was seven, Naerien would introduce Sindarin as her mother had done.

Anberenien and her grandmother shared a special bond between them that Naerien could only dream of. After all her longings, she finally had a child. But from the moment she looked into her daughter's newborn eyes, she knew Anberenien was not truly hers. Whilst her daughter was the image of her father, she shared no traits with Naerien herself. She glanced at the letter again."A daughter is a blessing to her mother and a gift to her father, a gift he is likely to give away, I fear," she whispered to herself.

Daylight was fading now and Labes finished her supper and lit the lamps and candles around the hall. Naerien rose from the bench and went to the entrance of the Hall. She watched her mother teaching Anberenien blade drills with her sticks, smiled and waved. But her eyes gave away her concerns. "She is not truly my own. A mother knows such things."

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Later that evening, Lord Beren turned off the Great East Road into the woods as he rode homeward. It was raining now and he could hear the soft rumble of distant thunder. Beren was weary, but his spirits were high. He looked forward to a few warm nights in Naerien's arms and playing with Anberenien in the river shallows. Having arrived home early, after leaving his companions at the last encampment. He was sure no one had followed him off the road, but could not shake off the thought that he was being watched.

Beren stopped his horse and gripped the pommel of his sword as he looked about him. Feeling a little foolish, he called out. "Who goes there?" A flash of white caught his eye and the unmistakable figure of Saruman appeared out of the gloom.

"Greetings, my Lord Saruman!" Beren called out in surprise.

Saruman smiled thinly. "Apologies, Lord Beren. I did not mean to startle you."

"What brings you this far north? Are you holding a White Council at Rivendell?"

Saruman shook his head. "Oh no, there is no reason for such a gathering. I am meeting a trader with a pipeweed shipment for me."

Beren tapped his belt pack. "I did not know you smoked."

"I do on occasion, but only the better varieties," replied Saruman.

Beren looked up at the sky through the trees, "Well, it is not a night to be outside and Duincar is not far. You are welcome to take shelter with us."

The Wizard smiled. "That is a most generous offer, and one I most humbly accept."

Beren dismounted and the two of them walked together through the woods till they reached the gatehouse of the village. The night watchmen hailed Beren as they passed through the gates. Beren stabled his horse, then the two of them headed for the Great Hall. Inside, the hall was silent, as the entire household was at rest.

They could hear the rain hitting the thatched roof above them. Beren stoked up the cinders of the hearth, bringing the fire back to life. He then removed his cloak and hung it to dry and invited Saruman to do the same. Saruman hung his cloak beside Beren's and laid his staff upon the table, then the two of them pulled a bench closer to the fire to warm themselves.

"You are more than welcome to spend the night here. Gandalf often does," said Beren.

Saruman smiled thinly. "Gandalf, and how often does he visit?"

"Every few months, I suppose, but I am not here often enough to know for sure. He is very fond of Anberenien, though." Beren pulled out his long clay pipe from his pack, some dried pipeweed, and a couple of flints. Stuffing the pipe with some of his weed, he struck the flints together, causing a spark to light it. He then offered the remaining weed to the Saruman. "I only have a little of the rough stuff, but I am happy to share it with you."

Saruman almost snatched the Pipeweed before drawing out his pipe and lighting it up similarly. "It is a shame we have arrived so late. I have missed seeing your delightful family."

"Aye, I have not been home since spring and Anberenien is seven in the morning. She grows in the blink of an eye."

Saruman nodded."Indeed, and how is the precious little one?"

Beren shrugged. "Same as any other child her age, I suppose."

"She is in good health?"

"Very much so. I don't recall Anberenien ever being ill, not even a cough or cold. If she has been ill, Naerien has not mentioned it. But I am rarely home these days."

Saruman nodded thoughtfully. "Does she still have my gift?"

Beren blushed a little. "I am afraid an accident befell your crystal orb. Naerien should never have allowed her to keep it in her room."

Saruman waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, think nothing of it. It was a mere trinket." But his bright eyes hinted at annoyance. He leaned back, blowing a few wisps of smoke into the air. "Have you given any thought to Anberenien's long-term future Beren?"

"Aragorn and I have spoken of little else of late. Once he has claimed the Throne of Gondor, I shall rule Arnor in his name with Naerien at my side. Anberenien will have to be fostered and raised for the role she was born into. We are considering Lord Denethor, Steward of Minas Tirith. He may be reluctant to relinquish power, but perhaps a royal bride for one of his sons may yet soften his stance. Though both may already be wed by the time she comes of age. Then there are Prince Imrahil's sons, two are of similar age to Anberenien, as is his daughter. Aragorn says he and his Lady are good, kind people and would also make excellent foster parents. Aragorn and I have agreed that Anberenien must wed a Gondorian prince or noble.

Another couple of wisps came from Saruman's pipe and a curious look grew over his face. "That makes perfect sense. Any prince of Gondor would make a fine match for your daughter if she were an ordinary lady of the Dúnedain."

Beren frowned, confused as to what Saruman meant. "Anberenien is an ordinary lady of the Dúnedain, she is of the royal House of Elendil as I am."

Sarman looked about him, then drew closer to Beren."That is true, but have you considered Anberenien may have a fate far greater than even you can imagine? As a wizard, I am, of course, blessed with the power of foresight. What if I were to tell you she will not wed the mere Prince but become the queen of a wise and powerful King?"

Beren could not think who Saruman could be referring to. There were very few kings in Middle Earth save Dale, perhaps. Surely you do not mean my cousin Aragorn. He has already made a betrothal.

Saruman rolled his eyes slightly. "Aragorn is not the only King in Middle Earth Beren. I have been to the south and East, not all men there are loyal to the Dark Lord. Many powerful Kings and princes in the East pay their dues to him. But in secret, they long for the day when he is defeated. That is where you will find a King to wed your daughter."

He looked intensely into Beren's eyes and he felt the wizard was looking deep into his soul. And it seemed to Beren his mind was clouded in fog, all he was aware of was Saruman's voice. "My little girl, a great queen?" he asked dreamily.

Saruman's gaze intensified, and he drew Beren even closer. "But there is a problem. My true purpose for coming here this night. I came to warn you that your daughter is in terrible danger."

This news woke Beren from his stupor. "In danger, but who would want to harm my child?"

"The Dark Lord, he means to capture Anberenien, turn her to his will and if she resists, kill her!"

Beren was terrified. Both he and Aragorn had grown used to the risk of being sought out and killed by their enemies. But to think that Sauron himself was aware of his child and wanted to corrupt her distressed him greatly. "My poor innocent child, there must I can do to protect her!"

"Keep your voice down. You do not want to frighten your family. The best thing you can do for Anberenien is to send her away, someplace safe, where the Dark Lord could never find her."

Beren frantically searched his mind for somewhere Anberenien would be safe. "Rivendell, I shall send her to Rivendell. Aragorn believes Anberenien should go there to be educated. She would be safe with Lord Elrond."

Saruman smiled thinly as he stroked his beard. "Rivendell is a fine place for learning. But is it secure enough? What would happen if the Dark Lord chose to attack? He could overrun the place in no time. No, Anberenien should be raised somewhere safe and secure, Beren."

The fog began to creep on Beren again. "But where would I find such a place, Saruman?"

"I could offer Anberenien a place of safety, my home in Orthanc at Isengard. Its surrounding walls keep it safe and impenetrable, and I have heavily guarded it. No one may leave or enter without my permission. Anberenien would be safe, secure, and the Dark Lord would never find her."

Beren considered Saruman's words. He made sense, but Beren felt uneasy handing over his daughter to a man he barely knew. And Isengard was so far away, unlike Rivendell. "Your offer is very kind, yet it seems cruel to lock my daughter away in a tower."

Saruman laughed softly and shook his head."The tower is surrounded by gardens and trees, perfect for a curious young mind. I can teach her many things, guide her, care for her as if she were my own and she can help me in my work as my assistant."

Beren felt pulled in two directions. It was a great honour for a wizard such as Saruman to offer to raise his child in Orthanc. But his heart told him such a thing would be wrong and why was such a great wizard so interested in his little girl? "I need time to consider your offer, Saruman. It is a great honour you are bestowing on my daughter. But I must consult with my wife and Aragorn. He is Anberenien's guardian, should anything happen to me."

Saruman glanced at the embroidered flags that adorned the walls. "Are you not a descendant of Elendil? Does not the blood of Isildur run through your veins? You are your own man, Beren. And Anberenien is your child. You are Lord of this Village, not your wife, and she must bow to your will. Naerien will be upset at first, but once you have explained all to her, she will accept your decision. Sleep on my words Beren and you will see the wisdom in them. Bring Anberenien to the edge of the Woods tomorrow evening, alone, and I will take her with me."

The sound of rain had ceased, and Saruman got to his feet. "I believe the rain has moved on and I must meet up with my contact. I thank you for your hospitality. I bid you a very pleasant evening. Farewell Lord Beren, bring your daughter to the woods tomorrow evening." And with that, Saruman retrieved his staff, put on his cloak and swept out of the Hall.

The fog lifted from Beren, and he felt as if he was waking from a dream. He heard a door open above him and Naerien appeared on the balcony. On seeing Beren, her face lit up. "Mel Nin, you are home. I thought I heard voices. Where are the others?"

Beren looked up at her and beamed."It is only I, the others, will meet us at the market."

Naerien flew down the stairs and threw herself into his waiting arms. "Oh, how I have missed you. Why did you not come straight to bed?"

"I just thought I would have a smoke first, Mel Nin."

Naerien sniffed as she messed his long dark shaggy hair. "You need a bath, Mel Nin,"

"Then you can bathe me in the morning." He held her gentle face in his hands and gently kissed her ruby lips. The smell of lavender and chamomile he knew so well entered his nostrils and he knew, at last, he was home. "Oh, how I have missed you, Naerien."

A happy tear fell down her pale cheeks. "Come now, let us rest and be together."

Beren held her tightly for a moment. He did not want to spoil this moment by telling her all that had transpired that evening. Especially as she had been so well since Anberenien was born. And he was unsure what he could tell her. Perhaps Saruman was right, it would be better to tell her nothing. At least for now.

Naerien frowned. "Beren, you are shaking, are you well?"

"No Melleth Nin, I am very well." And he kissed her again. More passionately this time.