Daughter of Arnor - Servant of Fate

Chapter Five: Rivendell

"I've worn some fine Elven gowns in my time. I was quite the catch in my youth." - Gruinith

2nd August/Urui T.A 3004 Duincar

The next morning Aragorn and Halbarad had already left by the time Anberenien came down to breakfast. Her father had decided to remain for one more day, promising to catch up with his kinsmen at a prearranged checkpoint. Anberenien noticed a frostiness between her grandmother and parents as they breakfasted together. They did not speak with one another but exchanged glares instead. After breakfast, Gruinith took Anberenien outside with her sticks.

Gruinith demonstrated the drills for Anberenien to follow. "You stick it like this and stick it like that, to kill the nasty Orcs!" Anberenien repeated the rhyme as she copied the movements with her sticks. But she kept making mistakes, eventually throwing them in frustration with so much force, her grandmother had difficulty pulling them out of the ground. "I think we should take a break, Little Sparrow," she said.

The two of them sat on the bench, Anberenien staring at the ground. "What is it, child?"

Anberenien looked up at her grandmother. "I wish I had never gone off at the market. Then no one would be quarrelling and Pappa would not be sending me away."

Gruinith pulled out a cloth that was tucked into her belt and held one of her blades aloft as she cleaned it. "Your father has told you enough tales for you to know who we are. We are not like other men. We live longer for a start. I am ninety-seven years old but do not look a day over fifty by middleman standards. But our people are dwindling. The Dark Lord has cast his shadow upon us for centuries. Through wars and plagues, he has diminished us. I do not like the thought of sending you away. But it would be a far worse thing if someone were to take you from us. Not just for your kinfolk, but for all the Dúnedain."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, sheathed the blade she had cleaned and pulled out the other. "These are ancient. They belonged to my mother, a Chieftain's daughter. Given to her by her mother at her maiden feast as her mother had done. They have passed from mother to daughter since we passed across the sundered sea back to Middle Earth, perhaps even longer than that. However, your mother had not the wit nor desire to learn the discipline and I feared I would be buried with them. Then you were born, and I knew, the moment I looked into your eyes, that I would live long enough to pass them to you."

"What is a maiden feast?" asked Anberenien.

"When you get your first blood, you will no longer be a child. But a maiden and will be old enough to wed in a few years."

"But what is first blood?"

"Has your mother not spoken to you of this? It comes every moon cycle from the privy parts and means you can birth sons,"

"But what does wed mean?"

Gruinith sighed. "It should mean that you fall in love, say your vows before your friends and kinfolk, and give your husband lots of sons. If you are lucky, you might just have a daughter. But your father wants to wed you to a Gondorian Prince far away in the south. That's why you have to go to Rivendell, to learn to be a noble lady."

"Mamma says my uncles all died before they wed."

Gruinith took a sharp intake of breath. Anberenien noticed her lips were wobbling. "Brave boys, all of them. I trained them myself, all seven of them. Your grandfather perished as your mother quickened in my womb." She sniffed, re-sheathed the clean blade, and put her arm around Anberenien.

The two of them sat in silence for some time, as village life continued about them. A thought floated into Anberenien's mind. As if a voice was whispering in her ear. "Grandmother, I am no child! I will not wed a man nor have sons!"