Caranwyn's Tale: In Defence of Middle Earth

Notes: Caranwyn's Tale, I have decided to begin when she was twelve. While I won't be covering all the time between then and when her adventures propper began, I will devote the first few chapters of her tale to her more formative years. Since this chronicle isn't marked with a Minor tag, don't expect to be finding anything too raunchy in these first couple of chapters.

As always, any comments, criticisms, critiques, or anythign at all you'd just like to say about the work are most welcome, and highly desired.

-Niara

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Loyalty

A gentle wave of warm air drifted from the doorway and open windows of a long bakehouse, high in the winding streets of Minas Tirith, and with it, the scent of blueberry muffins.

Across the street, in a mostly empty store-room, a young girl, no more than twelve, watched. Caranwyn turned back from the window she’d been peeking from and crouched down, surveying her men. Red hair caught the edge of sunlight, setting a shine to the equally striking green of her eyes. They betrayed a gleeful excitement hidden behind the serious set of her face.
“Alright. This is how we’re going to do it.”

It was early afternoon still in the White City, with an hour or two before the light began to fade. They had trained and drilled hard in the morning, and now the afternoon was theirs to do with as they pleased. It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong, well, not really. In fact, they were all being excellent and dedicated students and soldiers, getting in all this extra strategic planning and training. The muffins were being baked for them anyway; this was just making the process more efficient. Yes.

Eloreth dusted her hands briefly on her apron before taking up the folded cloth beside her and pulling the next batch out of the oven. As she turned back to the bench, she caught a blur of motion that could only mean one thing.
“Catch him, quick!” It was too late though. The grinning blur of brown-haired boy had already darted in and snatched one of the neatly tied bundles of muffins. The other women in the room moved to intercept him, but he was nimble and fast in the small space, slipping away in a scramble out the far door. As he disappeared there was a crash and a shout, followed by the sound of pained, not-quite crying; a sound Eloreth knew all too well as a growing boy, hurt and shocked, but not going to cry, honest. She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron again. Another pair of boys had appeared in the far doorway, one supporting the other, who limped and held his leg.
“Little scamp… Anawen, get after him and get those muffins back. That was Leoferth’s boy, wasn’t it? Be sure to give him a proper talking to once you catch him. Tell him he’ll have his share when they’re all ready, and he’s lucky he gets any at all after this. Bereth, help me with these two, would you, and Calwen, could you get those last few trays in while I deal with this?” She turned to the pair. “Give us a look, boys, what happened?” The limping boy lowered himself to the ground gingerly and straightened the leg as the other women set about their orders. He sniffed, looking between the grown women.
“We were just practicing outside in the alley. The smell, miss, it’s why we picked here, but he came rushing out and ploughed into us, and…”

As he spoke, and Eloreth examined him, Caranwyn wandered in through the front entrance, watching the boys. She walked over to Calwen, as if to talk, but then moved past her, tilting her head and trying to get a better look. She had almost crossed to the back of the room before she stopped and turned back to Calwen, getting the woman’s attention.

“What’s going on? I heard shouting and noise. Is someone hurt?” Calwen looked at her.
“Muffin-lifting and boys being boys, Caranwyn, that’s all. Though to be honest, I’m half surprised it wasn’t you trying to pinch a bundle, you’re a right one for starting mischief yourself, you know.” Behind her, Caranwyn caught sight of her two remaining soldiers slip in carefully and pick up the remaining six wrapped bundles between them, while all backs were turned, then duck outside again. She pouted at Calwen.
“Aww, that’s not fair. I was just here to ask how long before we could have some, but it’s ok, I’ve seen it.” She glanced pointedly around the Calwen, to the empty bench, and the woman turned to discover the theft. Caranwyn couldn’t contain a small cry of raw glee.
“The day is ours! Fall back!!” She shouted with another whoop.

She was laughing in the confusion that followed, amidst the indignant shouts and scattering children, escaping into the alleys of the city in a scrambled dash that blurred together into a rush that didn’t fade until she was finally at the old disused building they often met up at, leaning against the wall by the door, panting heavily. She grinned at the others as they showed up, still catching their breaths the same as her. Denith and Belemir arrived last, still bearing their bundles, and the six of them gathered around to share out. The smell of blueberry-flavoured victory was intoxicating. She bit into one with a small hum of pleasure and looked to the others.
“Well done everyone. That was great.” The boys raised muffins of their own with a small cheer, in toast, and the eldest of them, Garthstan, laughed.
“And here’s to our bold leader, may she never decide to pull a prank on any of us!” There was a general murmur of chuckles and Caranwyn laughed along with them.

It wasn’t a bad life, really. This was the white City, the Tower of the Guard, after all, greatest and most valiant bulwark against the Enemy. It was honour enough to be the child of such a place, or so people said. She lived on the third level, with her mother and father, and her twin sister Russellwen, and it was pleasant enough. Even so, she would have a lecture in store for her when she got back, for certainly one parent, if not both, would have heard of her latest exploits by then, and the longer she stayed out, the longer that would be delayed.

Instead, she climbed to the battlements of the third level and looked out. The view went on for many leagues, all the way to the stark, black mountains in the east. The light was fading as the sun set, out of sight behind the city, and the wind that brushed her cheeks was chill, but Caranwyn still enjoyed coming up here of an afternoon.
“Mother has heard of your stunt, you know. She’s not pleased.” Caranwyn glanced to her right, at the girl that had come up to stand beside her, looking out through the gap in the battlement next to her own. Russellwen always seemed to know where to find her, wherever she was, and grinned as their eyes met. “You’ve got to tell me all about it later.” They giggled for a moment before Caranwyn turned serious again.
“I imagine father has been home and learned of my ‘strategic training exercise’ as well?”
“Probably, but spin it like that for him and you might even get off.” She sighed, turning away from the view of the mountains, to lean against the stonework closer to Caranwyn and look up at the rest of the city instead. “It was bone-setting today with mother, after some dolt got himself thrown and stepped on by a horse. Your day sounds more interesting.”
“We’ll see.” They stood for a while longer, enjoying the breeze, before Caranwyn turned to look at her sister again. “Oh, I saved you some, here.” She passed over the small bundle she’d been carrying, still with a couple of muffins left inside. “I know you had a share earlier, when they actually finished and let the children get some, but what’s a raid if you don’t share the spoils? You’d best hide them for later, though, after supper, or else mother and father might suspect you of being involved as well.” Russellwen wrinkled her nose at her twin with a smirk.
“You’re so generous, you even share your own portion of blame!” More laughter, before Russellwen stood straight and stretched. “It’ll be last bells soon. ‘Strategic training’ or not, we’ll both catch it if we’re not back soon. Let’s go.” They raced back towards their house through the winding streets, ducking and weaving around the few adults still moving about in the fading light. They darted in through their front doorway just as the evening bells began to sound through the city.

They stopped short just inside the door, held in place by the unimpressed gaze of their mother, who stood now from where she had been seated at the table, waiting for them. They stood for a moment, transfixed like field hares in torchlight, looking up at the woman. She was lean and strong, tallish, for a woman, though still shorter than most of the menfolk in the city. Wearing a simple grey dress, taken in by a slim belt at the hip, where one fist was now planted in an expectant manner, she radiated an aura of no nonsense seriousness they’d come to know signified her displeasure. Her eyes, the same green as her daughters, pierced them for a few more seconds.
“Cutting it fine, girls. Suppers almost ready, so clean up quickly and get yourselves seated. We’ll talk shortly.” Caranwyn suppressed a wince at her last words, and the pair darted past her, making first for their room, where they kicked off their boots and retrieved fresh evening clothes, and Russellwen hid her small bundle of muffins, then back again, through the central room of the house, to the small bathroom beyond, where hot bathing water had already been drawn for them.

As they washed quickly, Russellwen took a moment to smirk at her sister.
“That was lucky, I guess. If she means to chew you out over supper, then at least you know father will be there as well, and he’ll be a lot nicer about it.” The other girl ducked her head under the water for a moment, blowing bubbles and running fingers through her short hair.
“That’s the plan, anyway.”

After they had dried themselves off and dressed in swift silence, the pair trooped back out to the common room of the house, taking their places at the table. They sat close together, across from their parents, giving the room a somewhat inquisitorial feel. Super was hard bread and a thick stew of potato and vegetables, with a pleasant meaty taste, though no detectable meat that Caranwyn could find. They ate in silence for a minute or two, until their mother finished her crust and looked at the girls, or rather, at Caranwyn.
“A grown man behaving as you did today would find himself in the stocks for a day or two right quickly. Be it sweetcakes or actual property, theft is theft, young lady, and it’s not something I’ll tolerate from any daughter of mine.” The voice was firm, and Caranwyn concentrated on stirring the remains of her stew with a bread crust, looking down. “You need to learn that that sort of behaviour will not do, and worse to you for leading others into mischief with you.”
Caranwyn looked up, her gaze flicking pleadingly to her father, who wore an equally stern expression.
“We weren’t really stealing anything. It was just what was to be given us anyway. We all agreed there was nothing really wrong with it, like that. Only, we’d just come out of training, and I was thinking, it was a good exercise, wasn’t it?” She tried to make her eyes as innocent as possible, shifting her gaze between each parent. “It was just like training, in a way, strategy, and planning, and team-work: assessing a situation, weighing up resources, forming a plan to best use the talents of each person, and carrying it out as a co-ordinated effort, just like we’ve been taught.” Her mother’s brows drew down, and she looked about to speak again, but Caranwyn pouted, pushing ahead. “And I did well, too. We all did. No-one got caught, no-one was hurt, nothing was damaged, and the objective was complete before any alarm was raised.” She squared her shoulders, determined now that she’d started. Her father, still trying to maintain his displeased appearance, was now struggling hard not to smile, behind it. Soon he sighed and shook his head, resting one hand over her mother’s.
“If they were just acting on their lessons, then perhaps the fault lies in my teaching, hmm? I’ll admit, my girl, it was an effective manoeuvre, from what I’ve heard of it.” His wife shot him a glare.
“That’s not the point, dear, and you know it.” She looked back to the girls. “Perhaps, if this is the sort of thing that’s coming out of training with your father and the boys, it’s about time we stopped that and had you both come to learn the healer’s arts with me properly, instead. I’ve got my concerns about leaving you two to continue spending so much time in close company with the boys, anyhow, especially as you’re growing up. We would need to put a stop to it in a few years at the most anyway, so I see no harm in taking you both on properly now.” A lurch shuddered through Caranwyn as she suggested it, and she leapt to her feet, both hands flat on the table. The whole effect actually made her apparent height shorter, but that didn’t matter.
“Mother, no! You can’t! I want to fight, I can do it. Don’t make me stop, please! Father, please don’t make me stop!”
“Sit down, Caranwyn, and behave yourself. You’ll do as you’re told.” Her glare drove the girl back into her seat, but at the same time her father leaned over and whispered something in the woman’s ear. She looked at him, and they held a hurried conversation in close whispers that neither girl could overhear properly. Still in shock, Caranwyn only managed to pick out something about potential, and dealing with other problems when they needed to. After a moment they looked back to where the girls tried not to cower. Their mother reached across the table and took each of their hands in one of her own.

“Russellwen, I know you weren’t involved, but you both understand that what was done today was a bad thing. However tactically brilliant for your age your father thinks it was, Caranwyn, it was still a bad thing, and you ought not to have done it. You understand that, don’t you?” Both children hung their heads, mumbling agreement. “Ah, now, chins up. Answer me straight and take responsibility. Try again.” They both met her eyes,
“Yes, mother.” They answered in unison.
“Good. That is what is important. Count yourselves lucky, then, that your father thinks you both show far too much potential, and that the City itself is in desperate need of more good tactical minds these days, such that, I must admit, it would be a waste to consign you both to learn healing under me as your final path in life.” She squeezed their hands with a smile, and the world became right again. “Now finish your supper, and get yourselves to bed. I’ll come through in a little while.” She stood, releasing their hands, and walked through to the bathroom to begin drawing hot water for herself.

Their house was small, but cosy and efficient in a way that made Caranwyn happy. Aside from the moderately sized central room, there was the bathroom at the back, a small area for preparing food and the like, and two small bedrooms, one each for their parents, and for the girls. Back in their room, they changed down into light shifts then clambered into the bed and made the sheets up, getting comfortable while they awaited their parent’s goodnight wishes. The room itself wasn’t much larger than the space needed for the bed, along with the dresser that held their clothes. Certainly, there wasn’t enough room for the dresser and two full sized beds, but their father had said, when questioned by a friend, that they’d deal with that when it became an issue, though neither girl had yet been able to work out what they’d meant.

Perched on the dresser itself were a number of small stones, pebbles and unusually shaped pieces of masonry that the girls had picked up as interesting objects, and dotted in amongst them, a small handful of treasures; a pair of small, simple knives, one for each girl, useful for all manner of daily things, an unusual seed, found in a terrace garden, but not of any plant they could remember, a lump of melted and fused glass, blue and green and red all at once.

Their parents came in a short while later to bid them goodnight, kissing them lightly on the forehead each in turn. Their mother took a moment to straighten their boots under the bed before snuffing the candle and closing the door over behind her. Almost as one the girls rolled in towards each other, until their foreheads touched in the darkness. Caranwyn could feel her sister’s breath lightly on her face, smelling, not of anything in particular, but just, like Russellwen, and she smiled. The other girl’s voice was a soft whisper.

“That went well, in the end. I thought you were going to catch it for sure when you jumped up like that.” Caranwyn almost shivered at the memory, then whispered back just as softly.
“I’m still scared. She said they were going to stop me learning to fight in a few years anyway.”
“That’s forever away. She’ll change her mind by then. So come on, tell me what happened, all I know is that you and the rest of the boys somehow made off with most of the muffins the ladies were baking for you, before they were ready, and right under their noses and all.” Russellwen grabbed her hand, curled up and close as they were. “Details, tell me everything.” Caranwyn giggled quietly.
“We were finished with our exercises early, and had the afternoon free, but from where father let us, we could smell that something good was on the bake.” As she continued detailing every stage of the planning and execution of her raid, they smirked and laughed with each other in hushed tones. When the story was finished, Russellwen recovered the small bundle of muffins from where it had been hidden in the bed sheets and they shared them in a belated, secret victory celebration, carefully keeping the cloth of the bundle spread between them to catch crumbs.

They talked in whispers, as they usually did, long into the night, until Russellwen sighed with a thoughtful sound.
“You know, I’ve heard mother and father saying things like that more often lately.”
“Like what?”
“That we’re growing up, and talking about it oddly… Saying things like, it’ll cause problems in a few years, or dangers or… I don’t know. They mentioned it again, after mother threatened to stop you training with the boys. What do you think it means?”
“Hmm…” Caranwyn paused, then raised one finger to press it lightly against Russellwen’s lips. In the silence now they became aware of the faint sounds of their parents’ quiet love-making from across the house. That it was something that their parents did had been explained to them in very simple terms, once, but no more than that. Caranwyn removed her finger, taking a breath. “I think it might be something to do with that. Things adults do; things we don’t know about properly yet, or don’t need to know about, or something. Things that girls do with boys, that makes girls into mothers.” She wrinkled her nose in the darkness, already on shaky and uncertain ground. “But we’re growing up, or something, and… I don’t know… they’re worried we’ll become adults and want to do things with boys as well? And that’s dangerous, somehow? I don’t know. I think it’s something about that, anyway.” Suddenly she felt Russellwen poke her in the belly with a giggle.
“Well, if you go wanting to do things with boys and end up a mother with a baby, you’re not going to be able to fight, are you? Maybe that’s it?”
“Who knows, adults act so strangely sometimes.” There was more hushed giggling as they wrapped up the cloth containing the crumbs of their feast and dropped it beside the bed. Their quiet talk drifted onto other things until they eventually fell asleep.

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