Harla's Tale: Heart of Fire

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Reflection: Long Summer Days

As she wandered the road back towards Bree, Harla found her mind drifting back, as it usually did after such incidences. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten herself in trouble, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, since she had left the Shire. Things like this, though, things she could move on or away from, were at least preferable to going back. Her mood dimmed again as she pondered the sad state of her life, that she found abuses in passing like that more bearable than going home. It wasn’t really home anymore, though, was it? Not really. The wind had picked up, pushing the rain clouds from the evening before further over the horizon. Harla stretched in the cool breeze, breathing deeply again.

It wasn’t as though she didn’t like the shire, or have fond memories of it; she did: the smell of freshly pressed apples, and grass between her toes that just wasn’t the same anywhere else, climbing trees to hunt for abandoned nests, scrapping with the other children over the last blueberry pie at festivals. Hah, scrapping on the side of young boys and girls who couldn’t stand up for themselves, and putting paid to would-be bullies. But that led to darker memories. The talk and gossip; wildfire of the Shire. The way whispered slander became rumour, passed for truth, then settled into embedded opinion, and nothing the victim could really do if it came to it.

She might have had a future there once. Perhaps, someday, some nice young boy might have asked her to dance at a festival in the spring time, or come courting with gifts of flowers and good food. Instead it had been whispers that she was a feral young girl, with no sense of propriety, and instead of dancing, she was left breaking the nose of young Gilfast Proudfoot behind the tents when she had caught him trying to get his hands places that her friend, Marigold, clearly didn’t want them. And of course, the girl had thanked her so gushingly when she’d seen him off, and been so shaken up by the ordeal, but how she had whispered to her other friends afterwards.

She kicked at a rock as she walked, watching it skip across the road and into a gully on the far side. Oh, the boys had come alright, but never with gifts or flowery words, not for her. She’d had to beat sense or decency into most of them at one time or another during their youth, and none of them had any interest in partnering with her. But they all knew the same was true of each other, so they’d come to try their luck with the girl they knew no one would bother with. She’d tell them no, and to be about their business, but day by day others would come, and it had started to weigh on her. So many young men, all so confident that no other would court her seriously; she had begun to convince herself that they all must be able to see something about her that she couldn’t, something that made her worthless as a proper partner or companion, useful only for ‘practice’. Her forced good mood crumbled further the longer she walked, as her thoughts jumped back from memory to memory. Try as she might to ignore it all, eventually she had come to believe it in the deep recesses of her heart, and her resistance had begun to falter. She still remembered the first time it had failed completely, and she had given up her body to an interloper. It had been a day much like today, sunny and pleasantly warm, with just the hint of a fresh, cool breeze.

She had been out in the orchards of the Greenfields, pinching pears as she walked. They’d be starting the first round of harvesting from them in a few days, and no one would notice if they were a mere handful short. Except, perhaps, for Adelgar Bracegirdle, stepping out from between the rows of trees. Harla quickly flicked the mostly eaten pear she’d been gnawing on behind her as he gave her a wave, and grinned back at him. The young man had probably been sent out to check the trees just to get him away from the kitchen for a while, and had no doubt picked and eaten at least one or two himself before getting this far.
“Hullo there, Harla. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” He walked towards her, one hand in his pocket, the other reaching out to touch the branches of the trees as he passed. Harla checked her own step, leaning against the nearest trunk. “What brings you out this way then? Sampling the produce? Any good this season, you think?” He stopped opposite her, one hand still resting on a tree branch as he smiled. Harla smirked back.
“I’m sure you could tell me perfectly well, Adie; you’ve filched more than I have over the years.” The boy raised an eyebrow at her comment, rocking back on his heels for a moment.
“That’s as may be, but I’ve not sampled the hard grown goods of every other farm in the shire as well for comparison, have I?” He winked at her. “My da says we’ve got a strong crop this season, a lot of fruit to come in. Too much, he thinks, even. I told him that was silly of course. There’s no such thing as too much, especially not when it’s pears, I said to him. Pears are filler fruit aren’t they? Too much just means you can make a little more of everything, doesn’t it?”

He seemed assured of this as he spoke, and Harla casually reached up to pick another pear from the limb above her, stepping around the tree to look it over as she took a bite.
“And that, master Adelgar, is why your da runs the orchard, and not you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I certainly know a fine pear when I see one.” His words were close behind her and she jumped at the feeling of one hand squeezing lightly for a moment at her left buttock. “One I certainly wouldn’t mind trying out.” Her cheerful mood evaporated instantly, as she took a quick step away. Must it always come back to this? Always? Was this all they were ever going to want? It was hard to even work up the angry indignation any more, it was just… depressing. There was a hesitation in the air. The young man behind her cleared his throat.
“This is normally the part where you hit me a solid one and tell me to be off, isn’t it, Harla?” He had stepped closer again and rested one hand on her shoulder. She sighed, shrugging away from him around the tree a little further.
“I suppose.” This was the fifth time in just the past two weeks that someone had made an indecent proposal at her. Never a ‘Would you fancy a picnic?’, or a ‘Might I walk with you for a ways?’, always this; a grab or a squeeze and right down to business. Was this her lot? He had stepped with her again, and now rested both hands on her shoulders lightly.
“Feeling a bit less reluctant today, maybe?” The voice was still casually cheerful, a stark contrast to the dim cloud settling over her mind. His fingers rubbed her shoulders gently, but she pulled away again, stepping back out into the gap between the rows of trees.
“Perhaps…” Maybe he’d get the message with how flat her voice sounded. If this was her lot, though, maybe she ought to just stop fighting, and get it over with. It wasn’t like the other girls didn’t already talk and whisper. Half of them probably thought she’d lain down with half the shire already, when in reality she’d never even so much as— Her pursuer stepped right up close to her this time, slipping his hands over her shoulders and crossing them over her chest. She could feel his chest brushing against her back, and his fingers resting lightly across the tops of her breasts. Unbidden, she became aware of her own pulse. Never even so much as let anyone ever stand even this intimately with her. She heard him talk softly, his lips close by her ear.
“Oh come on now, there’s no need to sound like that, is there? I’m just offering some pleasurable entertainment this fine summer’s morning. Come on, what do you say?”

Harla swallowed, taking a breath, and glancing down at the hands crossing over her shoulders. She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic unconsciously, the half-eaten pear in her other hand forgotten.
“And what about Rosemary, from down Scary way, hmm? I know you’ve had your eye on her for a while now, and she you. What would she say about this?” He chuckled behind her, and she felt the laugh move through his chest. His voice moved to her other ear.
“You’re not one to gossip now, are you, Harla? Well, neither am I. Besides, I’ve not asked her out yet, have I, so there’s nothing wrong, is there?” So casual, just like that. He would say it right to her face without even a thought; she was just sport, and nothing more. And it felt like every other hobbit in existence thought so too.
“And if I were to say yes, Adie? What then?” There was really no going back now, her thoughts whispered. What she’d said was as good as an offer, really.
“Well, I can certainly promise you a more interesting and enjoyable time than you might have had elsewise.” He kissed at her neck as he spoke and she blinked, nervousness sinking in suddenly. So, all the things they whispered and spread, they were all going to become true then? She had a sudden urge to break free and run as hard as she could, but another voice in her mind held her still. What difference would it make really? What would change? They all acted as though it were true, they wouldn’t know any different if it were. She might even enjoy herself after all, right?

As she stood, held still by nerves and conflicting thoughts, Adie continued to kiss and nuzzle gently at her neck, sliding his hands off her shoulders, and down her sides. He ran his hands over her hips, then up again to clutch a little more firmly at her breasts. She felt her tunic lifting with the motion, and when he repeated the action a second time, his hands slipped underneath, brushing bare skin with exploring fingers. Her breath caught as he stroked her breasts, the foreign sensation new to her. A part of her was terrified. Even so, she found herself lifting her arms above her head along with him, almost in a daze, as he pulled her top off altogether. Her skin was sensitive to his touches; it felt different, far removed from the feeling of her own hands. It was supposed to feel pleasant, wasn’t it? It was new, and different, and sensitive, but was it good? Bad? She couldn’t tell; it was just… new. He whispered in her ear again.

“You have beautiful skin, you know. It’s so smooth, and soft. You must forgive my rough hands.”
“They’re not rough, really, it’s nic— Ahh!” She gasped as he pinched her nipples in a quick motion, kissing her firmly on the neck as he did so. His hands dropped a moment later to begin pulling at the tie on her leggings. Her heart jolted when she felt what he was doing, and instinctively her hands jumped to grip his forearms. He paused, nipping lightly at her ear.
“It’s ok, there’s no one about for miles, you know, and we shalln’t have much fun if we don’t get these off. Just relax.” With an effort, she quelled the panic and loosened her grip on his arms, though she continued to hold them as he worked. A moment later, she felt her leggings slid down to her ankles and, unthinking, she stepped out of them. The movement made her aware of his hips pressed up hard against her backside, all the more present now that she was in naught but her underwear.

Even they proved no barrier, however, as he slipped one hand into the front, stroking fingers down through her dark hair, seeking with his middle finger for the spot that she still couldn’t believe she was letting him touch. She bit her lip as he found it, almost, and began to move the questing finger in small circles about the area. Her pulse quickened further as he touched her, but it only amplified the wash of emotions assailing her, apprehension, fear, and nervousness lead among them. She let out a sigh and heard her voice tremble. He nuzzled at her again.
“Mmm… Feel good?” She managed a nod. It did feel good, but he wasn’t doing it quite right. Suddenly his fingers left their station and dived lower still. She griped his wrist hard, stopping the fingers from pushing in. Without knowing why, she just didn’t want his fingers there, something about it just seem too crude. Adie didn’t seem put off, though. Instead he chuckled again, removing his hand from her pants altogether. “Ah, but you’re right. We’ve got something much better to put there, don’t we?” Not what she’d meant at all, but again she found herself nodding mutely between shaky breaths.

Adie pulled his hands back from her, and she released his wrists. She could hear him shucking off his own pants behind her as she pressed hands to her cheeks. A hot blush had crept over her face and was refusing to cool. Hands caressing her rear brought her attention back to Adie. He stroked and squeezed alternately, and she felt a third, hotter, object prodding against her as well. The urge to glance over her shoulder at him suddenly became a determination not to. Clearly he was eager, but she just didn’t want to look at the thing. His fingers hooked into the top of her underwear, and she felt them pulled down to the ground. Buck naked in the summer sun, and about to do something you swore you never would, her thoughts jabbed at her.

“You really are beautiful, you know, Harla, no doubt about that.” This time she did glance over her shoulder, keeping her back turned as much from self-consciousness now as anything else. Adie was kneeling behind her, looking up, hands resting on his thighs, and his… erection… well, very much erect. It was the first one she’d ever seen, and she was about to let him put it... she didn’t even want to think too much about it. Why couldn’t it have been night time? She’d be less nervous if they couldn’t see each other properly. One thing that made her feel a little better was the admiration and desire in his eyes as they roved over her body. She could see that he liked what he saw, liked her form, wanted her. Maybe that was enough, in the end. He beckoned to her with a smile, and she folded her knees until he leaned up to wrap his arms around her again, turning her face towards his with one hand. He moved in to kiss her, but she averted her lips at the last moment. She still felt like she was betraying herself, and sharing a kiss was an intimacy she didn’t want to mix up with this. Instead she stroked his cheek with one hand, and ran her other through his curly brown hair. Her eyes begged apology as she caught his and he nodded, seeming to understand.

Instead, he traced a finger down her back, following her spine, then pushed gently, pressing her away from him until she was on her hands and knees. He knelt up behind her, sliding his hands from her shoulders, down to hold at her hips. She could feel his legs against the inside of her own thighs, and the hard length between, pressing up against her sensitive places. He rocked against her a few times shifting her body along with his, before drawing back and guiding his tip towards her entrance with one hand.
“Are you ready?” His voice was a mask of casual, covering barely contained excitement, she could hear it. All her fear and anxiety returned in a heartbeat, and it was all she could do not to tremble visibly. Was she ready? No. But what did that matter in the end?
“I… I think so. Adie, I, I’ve not… just, please…?” Words failed her need to speak, but she couldn’t bring herself to have another try. Adie stroked her back with his spare hand.
“Just relax, it’ll be fine.” The stroking hand returned to grip her hip more firmly, and he pushed forward, beginning to ease into her. Harla stared blankly down at the grass, her fingertips digging into the soil. There was just no way, he was going to tear something, she was sure of it. She grit her teeth through the discomfort as he pressed deeper, moving in a gentle rocking motion to ease the passage. It didn’t help much. She breathed out and in again, hearing herself moan slightly. Adie groaned as well, but she doubted his came from discomfort.

The rocking motion stopped a few moments later and she looked up, glancing over her shoulder. His hips were tight up against her and she could feel his length inside her, stretching her passageway. It probably wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable if she were more aroused herself, a small part of her mind mused, but how in the light was she supposed to stay aroused when she was this scared, uncertain and nervous? She attempted a smile up at him before closing her eyes and letting her head drop again. The painful stretch of his first entry was subsiding into a dull ache, which was at least bearable.

He began to move again after a moment, slowly pulling out of her, then sliding back in. The sensation was strange, and it sent a small tingle through her loins with each stroke, but it wasn’t enough to blot out the discomfort of the invading object. Slow and gentle at first, his motions grew firmer as he settled into a faster rhythm that moved her body along with him. Harla struggled not to cry out on with his harder thrusts, trying to focus instead on the little bits of pleasant sensation stemming from his motions. She was tempted to put a hand down there herself, but knew she’d never get anywhere as long as it continued to ache like that. Adie’s weight shifted, and she felt him lean forward, close against her back, hands gripping much too firmly at her small breasts. She winced, but let him continue; his motions were fast and hard now, and she could hear his laboured breathing in between pleasured groans, she was sure he wouldn’t last much longer.

Sure enough, he groaned loudly a few moments later, thrusting into her hard and deep, and staying there. This time she did cry out and sucked a breath in through clenched teeth as he jerked against her repeatedly. Eventually, he subsided and pulled away, settling back on his haunches with a content sigh. Still on her hands and knees, Harla could feel fluid inside her, and quickly turned into a seated position with her legs together in front of her, before it began to leak out visibly. Her groin felt hot and sore still and putting one hand down to check quickly revealed that she had, in fact, bled somewhere along the way. She’d heard that that happened sometimes. Across from her, Adie was grinning again.

“Well, that was certainly the most enjoyable experience I’ve had in a very long time. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!” She managed a smile at him, but couldn’t bring herself to nod. It didn’t seem to matter, as he stood, stretching, and began pulling on his clothes again. Harla watched him dress, wondering who she could talk to about making sure she didn’t fall pregnant. That was really what cemented it, in the end. Rumour and talk were one thing, but no matter how much they were taken for fact, having to talk to someone about this would be proof. Fully dressed, Adie picked another pear and bit into it. After swallowing a bite he nodded to her again.
“I’d best be off quick smart, then, Harla. My da will be wondering where I’ve gone, and I’d best not keep him waiting. Perhaps we might do this again some time. Good morning to you!” With another small wave he ducked away between the trees and Harla felt a cold weight settle onto her. She crawled a little way out of the shade of the trees, but the sun didn’t seem to provide warmth any more. Just like that, it was over with, and she had become everything they whispered. As the mass of emotions she had been feeling drained away, they left behind a heavy void that dragged in her breast and almost seemed to make breathing harder. Her body shook as she drew breath, then again, and again. She sniffed, curling up with her knees against her chest, and her arms around them as tears blurred her vision and began to streak across her features.

It was many minutes before she recovered enough to crawl back to her clothes and begin pulling them on. She felt better with her tunic covering her again, but hesitated with her leggings and underwear. She still felt soiled and unclean, and wasn’t about to get dressed fully again without washing first. The river that separated Brockenborings from Overhill wasn’t too far away, so she folded the rest of her clothes up roughly and hurried towards it. The sound of rushing water soon reached her ears, and she stepped out from between the trees within sight of the small waterfall above the bridge. This was dangerously close to where she might be spotted, half naked as she was, but there was nothing for it. With a quick glance around, Harla ducked down to the river’s edge, then skipped across the stones to the other side. From here she quickly found the little path in the rocks that let her duck behind the rush of the waterfall, into a miraculously dry alcove. She had found the spot many years ago, when she was still little, and had been hiding from what had seemed like a very large, scary bear at the time. It hadn’t been even remotely interested, or possibly even aware of her at all, of course, but the little hidey hole had provided a wonderful feeling of safety and secrecy and she’d come back many times when she wanted to be left alone.

She pulled off her tunic now that she was safely out of sight, and set the small bundle of clothes down on an out-cropping rock, then reached out with one hand to touch the wall of rushing water in front of her, letting her fingers move freely as they were buffeted by the flow. Her mind immediately began to calm, and she leaned back against the rocks with her eyes shut, listening to the water. Further in, the recess moved closer and closer to the wall of water, until they met properly, and for most of the year, the river’s flow itself was quite thick. Harla had found that she could actually bathe here in complete secrecy, if she was careful, without anyone seeing anything or being any the wiser from the outside. She often wondered if anyone else knew about the spot, but supposed that there was little cause for them to, when they had homes of their own and families to look after them, and other things like that.

Moving carefully, Harla stepped further along the line of rocks until the water began to rush over her. It was cool, but quite pleasant, and she stretched her arms wide before running them through her short, ragged hair. When she had been very little, adults had trimmed and neatened it for her, but the older she’d gotten, the fewer people had been interested in helping her keep herself in order, so she’d taken to cutting it roughly herself. She quite liked the way it looked now, and didn’t miss the hassle of having to take care of anything longer. As she continued to wash, she winced slightly, running gentle fingers over her breasts. They still felt tender; she might even have a bruise or two by the evening. If there was ever to be a next time, she’d have to make sure whoever it was knew just how sensitive they were. A part of her wanted to deny that she would ever do any such thing, wanted to keep any male at least a fist’s reach from her for the rest of her life, and never let anyone use her body like that ever again, but then, the calm rush of the water also brought a cooler reason with it. This was something that people did, and they did it far more often than just for having children. If it couldn’t be enjoyable for everyone involved then that certainly wouldn’t happen, so learn how to enjoy it she would. Besides, at least a few times she’d heard older women reassuring some blushing newly wed against worried tales of less than story book first nights. Eavesdropped or not, the comforting words always seemed to be that it wasn’t uncommon, and not to worry unless it didn’t improve.

With a sigh, Harla turned around, enjoying the feeling of the water running down her back, then reached down to wash in between her legs with careful fingers. There was still a slight sting in some places, and she felt about gently to make sure no damage had been done. Nothing seemed to be torn, at least, though… She pushed one finger inside gingerly. Something felt different, at least slightly, she just couldn’t place how. Instead she turned to making sure she got every last bit of stuff out that she could, as well as working it free of the spots where it had clung and dried to the soft layer of hair protecting her nethers.

That was the other problem with having no proper family of her own, of course. All the things she didn’t know. Things that proper decent folk didn’t talk about, except in quiet rooms alone with their mothers; knowledge no one had ever thought to impart to her. She knew the basics, of course… what went where, and roughly what happened. She knew that ultimately, it was how a woman became pregnant and bore children, and she knew it had something to do with her cycles as well, but beyond that? She might be pregnant even now, for all she knew, or, possibly, the very notion of that might be completely absurd. It wasn’t right, she felt. You just didn’t leave a girl to grow into a young woman by herself without teaching her about these things properly; someone ought to have thought about it before now, surely. But to do that, they’d have to have thought about her, first, and therein lay the problem, she supposed.

The thought did answer the question of who she might talk to, though. Harla turned back around and crouched down now, with her back against the smooth surface of the rock, head back so she could breathe while the sheet of water ran over her from the neck down. She had been terrified when her cycles first started, but after several hours of fretting, had cautiously gone to speak to Heather Proudfoot, an aged lady in Scary who had always had a kind word for her. Most of the children in the area just called her Gammy, and she seemed to delight in sneaking them small treats whenever their parents forbade them. Somehow, when Harla had approached her so hesitantly then, the old woman had worked out right away what the situation was, and brought her inside for a hot blackcurrant tea and a quite talk. She had learned then that Heather and her mother had been good friends, as far as her mother had had friends in the Shire, and if anyone would help her now without spreading word all over the shire, she surely would.

Uncomfortable for a moment, Harla resettled herself on the smooth rock ledge, sitting down properly and parting her legs out to either side so as not to disturb to flow of water all the way through to the outside. She closed her eyes, head back still, calm and silent, a part of the rock-face that made up the waterfall, with the river flowing over her. This place was so good for helping her relax. Moving slowly, she ran fingers over her groin again, massaging. It was good for something else as well, something else she felt she really needed to feel now, or rather, something she felt like she damn well deserved. Even if it was very late, she needed to get something positive out of the ordeal, at least, something that would give her the courage to try again some day, and the practiced, gentle touch of her own fingers was reassuringly pleasant after the recent, less than delicate invasion.

Decided, she shifted again, sliding her position on the ledge out further towards the edge while keeping her shoulders firmly back against the rock. The angle turned her hips upward so that rather than flowing smoothly over her form, the rushing water struck more directly against her groin in a manner that made her draw a deep breath sharply and blow it out again in long sigh. At her sides, her fingers twitched, clenching and opening involuntarily as the constant, steady sensation of the water hummed against her sensitive places. It created a growing tingle that spread up through her body and made her pulse quicken. Taking long, even breaths she could feel the almost instinctive need to somehow compliment the sensation with movements of her own body, and her hips rocked gently in rhythm with her breathing. Her heart was thudding in her chest rapidly now, willing her to move faster, breathe faster, to draw the sensation on and stronger. She heard a soft moan slip between her lips as the feeling built.

Needing more, she lifted one hand to her heat, playing for a moment before pulling back on the skin to expose the very core of her pleasure to the water directly. She gasped louder this time, groaning as the sudden influx of stronger, fiercer pleasure raced through her. The muscles in her groin tightened rhythmically in time with her harsh panting and the movements of her hips, edging closer and closer to her peak under the unrelenting rush of the water. Her gasps found sudden voice as she reached her climax, crying out as every muscle in her body grew tense in the throes of ecstasy. Her hips jerked up against the flow of the water again and again as the waves of her orgasm swelled and broke. She quickly pulled in out of the water a few moments later, still panting heavily, as, spent, that so very sensitive spot grew far too sensitive for any more stimulation. Catching her breath, Harla sat for a few more minutes, running hands over the rest of her body and enjoying the gradually receding sensations of pleasure.

Eventually, Harla stood, turning about in the water one last time before retreating along the ledge to her little alcove, out of the water. She shook out her hair, and ran her hands over the rest of her body quickly to shake off most of the water, then picked up the small bundle of clothes, being as careful as she could not to get too many damp spots on them. A quick glace out beyond the curtain of the waterfall to be sure no-one was passing by, and she ducked out to climb nimbly up the rocks beside the fall, until she crested the small cliff and lay out on one of the large flat rocks at the top. No one could see here up here from down below, and few enough people ever walked above the falls that she wasn’t really risking discovery. She put her hands behind her head, enjoying the hot rock against her back, and the sunlight warm on her skin.

Later, warm, dry and dressed again, Harla clambered down feeling blissfully clean and refreshed. She wandered back towards the Overhill road and headed across the bridge into Brockenborings. As she wandered through the small township, a couple of people called out to her, or waved, and she responded in kind with a small smile, but most didn’t seem to notice her passage. Hopping the fence on the far side, she departed from the road in favour of wandering across the fields towards Scary, where the soft grass between her toes smelt fresh and new. There was a hint of clover in the air as well, and she was sure someone would be brewing the traditional summer brew of the East Farthing somewhere nearby.

Started as a stone quarry time out of mind, Scary remained a small and efficient cluster of houses, but like the rocks and stone around them there were many old shire folk who seemed to endure here in an almost timeless sense. Heather Proudfoot was one such, though apparently in her younger days she had watched Harla’s mother grow up, just as she had now kept and eye on Harla herself at times. The little old lady was pottering in her flowerbed when Harla approached, and she looked up with a sunny smile and an amiable wave.
“Hullo there, Harla dear. What brings you out this way today, hmm? Are those clothes you pinched off Hamwell Tunnely’s line holding out okay still? I can patch them up for you if you’ve got any rips or tears.” She dug her little trowel into the dirt and stood up, brushing her hands off on the smock she was wearing. Grey hair or not, the woman certainly didn’t yet show any signs becoming wizened, and was as spry and agile as any young adult still. Harla cast her eyes down for a moment, before making herself look up again, one hand clutching at her other elbow hesitantly.
“Hi, Gammy… I…” The old woman tilted her head to the side, shrewd grey eyes reading her.
“Oh Harla, you’ve come to me once before with eyes like that. Something’s happened, hasn’t it dear, do you want to come inside?”

She was already untying her gardening smock as Harla nodded gratefully, and led the young girl inside, sitting her down at the small round table in the kitchen. There was a black kettle on the stovetop already, sounding like it was just coming to the boil, and Gammy set about making fresh tea with it. She spoke as she did. “You have the most expressive eyes, you know, Harla, bright and honest, and the most beautiful green, just like your mother’s.” She retuned a moment alter, setting a mug down in front of Harla, and sitting across from her with one herself. Harla blew softly and sipped it. Blackcurrant again. “Now tell me, dear, what’s happened?” Harla bit her lip, taking another sip of her tea as she sought the right words.
“I… I lay down with someone, but I don’t know if… I don’t know about, well, children, and that sort of thing… No one ever taught me about it, and I never asked.” She could feel herself blushing, and she looked down at the table top as she spoke, hiding her face. Gammy nodded, taking another sip of her own tea.
“I suspected it might be something like that. Was it something you chose to do, dear, of your own free will? Not to speak badly of anyone you or I know, but I know a lot of the boys have never treated you like the young lady you are.” Again Harla hesitated.
“Yes, I did, I guess…”
“You don’t sound very convinced of that yourself, dear.”
“I did agree, I could have stopped him at any time, I’m sure… I just... I’m not sure I feel like I did the right thing.” She moved the mug between her hands, fidgeting unconsciously until Gammy reached out a hand of her own to hold her wrist gently.
“Hush that thought dear. What proper society will talk about or acknowledge, and what they do when no one can see are two very different things. By the sound of it, you didn’t enjoy yourself very much, either, but try not to be upset, or worry, that’s normal enough the first few times. More importantly, when was this, and where are you in your cycle?” Harla blushed at the frankness of the question, but thought for a moment.
“It was just this morning, and today’s Monday, so… I’ll be due sometime towards the end of next week.” The old lady sat back in her seat.

“Hrmm… Then we very well may have a problem, my girl. Do you want a child?” Harla shook her head vehemently. “I thought not. Let’s see…” She stood up and refilled the kettle, putting it back on the stovetop, then went to her herb shelves. A set of four long shelves that took up one whole wall of her kitchen, Harla was convinced that Gammy had a sample of every herb and spice in the whole world, somewhere. Taking down a fresh mug as well, she selected five small jars and measured out varying amounts of the different dried herbs or seeds in each. Two of the measures were of small seeds, which she began to grind with a mortar and pestle. As she worked, Gammy began to explain to Harla about the times in her cycle when she was likely to conceive, and how to tell with a reasonable amount of certainty. She also detailed the different things she was mixing together.

As the kettle began to boil again, she brought out a small one cup teapot, and tipped the crushed and mixed herbs into it, pouring the water on top, then sitting it on the edge of the stove to draw.
“Let it steep for a bout two minutes, like this, and then drink it. I’ll put some honey in it for you, if you like, it tastes beyond foul on its own, and no amount of sweetening will make it pleasant, but the honey will help a little. You’ll feel horrible for a while after you drink it, probably for the rest of the day, but you mustn’t let yourself be ill, or you can’t be sure it’ll work. After that, you’ll find your courses will come on you early, in the next day or two, and you’ll need to count from there as though it were the normal time. You’ll need to increase the strength by half if it’s more than two days afterwards, and double it if it’s more than five, but you mustn’t let it go beyond a week, otherwise you’ll risk doing yourself some real harm with the brew. The line between medicine and poison is a thin one, my girl. That should about do it, I think. Are you finished with your blackcurrant dear?”

Harla almost didn’t want to give up her mug as she watched the little pot on the stove, but she nodded, accepting the freshly poured drink with a nervous apprehension. As she held it, Gammy stirred a generous spoonful of honey in and encouraged her to make sure she drank it all.
“The price we pay for unplanned indiscretions, I’m afraid, dear. There is, however, something we can do about planned ones.” She pulled another jar from the end of the shelf and showed it to Harla. “Wild carrot seeds, that’s all, quite simple really. About half a teaspoon worth is all you need, chew them well for a day or two before hand, and you should be fine. You can probably keep it up for about a week if you need to, but I wouldn’t recommend doing so much longer than that. How is that tea going?” Harla grimaced in between sips, but concentrated on getting it down rather than respond. It was every bit as horrible as she’d suspected, and then some. Gammy reached across the table to grip her shoulder comfortingly with a reassuring smile.
“All part of growing up, my dear.” She sat back, her face retreating into thought for a moment and Harla tilted her head. Gammy sighed. “It’s my fault, I suppose, isn’t it? I really should have taught you all of this the first time you came to see me, but you were so young, much younger than normal. I hesitated, because I thought it might be a bit much, and I didn’t want to give you ideas at the time. I really should have come to find you at some point, but you wander about so much, you know. Just like your mother again, that.” Harla drained the dregs of her mug and pushed the vile thing away.
“You’ve shown me more kindness than anyone else in the whole Shire, Gammy. It’s not your fault, it’s everyone else.” The old woman grimaced at the remark, seeming to make up her mind about something else as well.

“It’s about time, I think. There’re some things I want to tell you, Harla. Things that those ‘everyone else’ as you put it, don’t want to ever tell you about. But I think you deserve to know. You have the right, and you also have the duty and responsibility to know about your heritage.” Harla’s brows knit as the other woman spoke.
“Heritage?” The word was new to her. Gammy nodded.
“Your history, and parentage, where you’ve come from, and what legacies it’s left you. There have been children who have lost their parents before, and they’ve always found homes elsewhere. You must have wondered many times why it didn’t happen for you, and why no one would have you as their own.” She sighed looking down. “It was a cruel thing to happen to a child, made worse because no one would speak of the reason, and at the time I was just as guilty of it as everyone else. I should have taken you in, dear child, but I was scared.” Harla couldn’t believe that, not really. Nothing scared this woman; if the Enemy came to her door, she’d tell him to be sure not to step on her garden. She went on. “There was, and is, a reason, though, Harla, and you aren’t going to like much of what I’m going to tell you one bit. Will you listen?”
“Of course.” How could she not want to understand?
“Alright, but before I begin, I want you to listen to this carefully, and know that it’s true. No matter whatever else might be, Harla, you are a brave girl, and a strong girl, and you have a good, honest heart. No matter what blood pumps through it, that remains true, and that is the greater part of who you are. Your will is strong and pure, no matter where the strength that drives it comes from, and that, too, is the greater part of who you are. Know that, and never let anyone tell you otherwise, alright?” Harla nodded, more uncertain about where this was going than before.

“Good. Well, you’ve been told that your mother died in child birth, and your father shortly after her. That isn’t altogether true. You mother liked to travel, as you know. She often went far from the shire, to nowhere in particular, just exploring, because she enjoyed it. It was on one of these journeys that… oh dear this isn’t easy to even tell you, I can’t imagine how it must be to hear.” The old woman set her shoulders. “Your mother was attacked, and badly assaulted by an orc of some kind, and she only survived because he left her for dead when he was… finished. She survived, but she also conceived of the ordeal.” Harla recoiled from the table, feeling ill in the pit of her stomach, her face a mask of horrified disbelief.
“I… An orc?! I have… I'm…” At her cries, Gammy ducked around the table to hug her tightly.
“I know, sweetie, I know, and I’m sorry to have to say it. I’m so sorry.”

Harla lapsed into stunned silence her hands rising to hold onto Gammy’s embracing arms in return.
“Your mother made it back to the Shire, but she was badly injured, and it seems it was only her strength of will that had carried her even that far. She lapsed into unconsciousness within minutes of finding the bounders outside Buckland, and didn’t wake up again for over three months. They took good care of her, and nursed her as well as they were able, but by the time she was recovered enough to actually tell them about what had happened, and they had worked out how she had come to be pregnant, it was far too late to do anything about it safely.” Gammy stood long enough to pull her chair around the table, the sat to wrap her arms around the girl again.

“There was an elf, if you believe that… I was there, visiting your mother’s sick bed in Buckland. She said she was just passing through, but had learned of the situation come to offer her assistance. She asked your mother if she wished for the pregnancy ended, but your mother said no. She claimed that, however the circumstance, she was with child, and that was no fault of the child. She asked only that the elf ensure that the child be born healthy, and that in return she would offer it every inch of her love, as though she had sought the child of her own choosing.” The old lady tilted her head to look at Harla with a warm smile.

“She never gave a name, the elf, but she returned day by day, to watch over your mother and tend her. She would spend many hours singing softly by her bed, one hand resting on your mother’s growing middle. Such a beautiful song, in no words any of us could understand, and in such a beautiful voice as well. It painted pictures in the mind, even though we couldn’t understand a word of it, of strength in strife, and valiant will, of battles won by the spirit of those fighting for what was right, and defiance of the darkness. The passion of a man whose very spirit burned like fire, and the peaceful enjoyment of the quiet calm when there was no need for action. Such stirring, and moving pictures, and all with no words we knew. It truly was magical, I’m certain of it.” She sighed, shaking her head, still caught up in the memory, and hummed a rough snatch of tune that Harla was sure she recognised, but couldn’t quite follow.

“Anyway, in between, she told us that she could influence the pregnancy, so that it would be your mother’s blood that shaped it and grew the dominant. She ensured that you would be born every bit the healthy, normal hobbit. She warned us, though. She told your mother that, no matter what she did, the mixed blood would always be there, and that the child would always bear that legacy in her veins. When I look back, I fear we didn’t grasp what she was saying, not properly, and so many of us were afraid of what you might be, of how you might be. We should have trusted her more, I think. I’m sure if she had thought you might be a danger to any of us, she would have said, or done more. But none of us thought that far.” Harla was staring down at her hands on the table top, still stunned. Her complexion had always been darker than the other children; even now her skin was more tan than most. Her temper had always run hotter as well, and she’d always been quick to take up a fight in the offing. Was this why? Gammy’s tale continued as Harla contemplated.

“Even with that elf’s help, the birth was very hard on your mother, you were born safely and well, but try as we might, nothing any of us could do could keep your mother with us. The elf, she seemed so drained and weary of spirit when all was done; she had tried so hard to hold onto your mother, and bring her back to us, but to no avail. And then, we were left with you, healthy young babe, but with no kin and such a heavy burden in your blood. We all promised the elf that we’d look after you well, and see that you were brought up well and cared for. Tired as she was, she trusted us, and went on her way after that.” Gammy shook her head with a sigh. “Perhaps she shouldn’t have.” She looked over at Harla again, giving her a moment to let the story settle in. “How are you feeling?” The younger woman blinked.

“This has been the most eventful day I’ve had in years. And it’s barely lunch time.” The smile faded from her face and she grew serious again. “I don’t know. There’s so much going through my mind, I don’t know what to think, or how to feel. But now I know. I know why I’ve always been left behind, on the outskirts. The whole Shire knows, don’t they?” Gammy nodded.

“Mostly. The adults do anyhow. You can’t keep a story like that from spreading, but we kept it from the children, so, likely no-one your age or younger knows, though I imagine a good many of them may have found out one way or another as they’ve grown.”

“I think… I think I’m alright. Nothing’s change, after all, I just… know, now. I’ll be ok. I always am, aren’t I, eventually?” She stood and stretched briefly. “Speaking of lunch, I know you said I’ll be feeling ill in a little while, will food be ok?” Here Gammy smiled at her with a mischievous twinkle.
“Oh, nothing too heavy, but I think I’ve got some scones, and perhaps some jam and cream around here somewhere that you should be able to handle well enough. Put the kettle on again, and I’ll see what I can find.” Harla grinned back as she moved for the stove.

Her reverie was broken by a shout off to her right. A glance around told her she was just approaching the outskirts of Staddle, and she looked over to identify the caller as Falco, waving to her from his garden. A while back, the silly hobbit had tried to make a deal with some of the bandits encroaching on the area, and when things went sour she had helped him see them off for good. Ever since he’d always had a kind word for her any time she passed his way, and more than once had invited her in for tea. He seemed like a nice enough person, true, but she simply couldn’t stand how daft he could be at times, and his fixation with his garden seemed to go a bit beyond normal hobbit pride, in her opinion. She waved back in passing, but kept walking. It was nearly noon, and she had promised to stop by Lily Sandheaver’s place for lunch next time she was in Bree. The woman made some excellent lemon pie, and that was certainly not to be missed. She resettled her shield, and quickened her pace.

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