Caranwyn's Tale: In Defence of Middle Earth

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A Revealing Mark

Their parents were both waiting for them as they made it at last to their house, with evening falling about them. They were grinning as they stepped in through the door and closed it behind them, and their father stood to embrace both of them in a tight hug. He smiled at them, returning to his seat while the girls took up places at the table as well.
“An eventful day for you, my girls, and so marks the end of your fifteenth year. Fifteen, and both of you growing now into beautiful young ladies, as well as strong, promising young women of this City of ours. I want both of you to know how proud I am to be your father on this day.” He looked at them both side on for a moment, still smiling. “But I know, as pleased as you might be to hear praise from an aging soldier, you’re both awaiting something more. I’m not much one for ceremony, so…” He reached behind himself, beneath the table, and lifted a slim case, long and flat, with two clasps on the front. “Russellwen, this is for you,” He handed her the case, lifting the catches as he did to reveal sleek, shapely bow. The girl clutched at her sister for a moment in excitement, then reached out for it, lifting the weapon and running fingers over its length. Her father continued.

“You have a natural talent for the art, and though your mother,” he exchanged a small, good-humoured smile with his wife. “may not entirely approve of me making this gift to you, you deserve it. The full bows continue to be a hindrance to you; this one is a little bit smaller, and lighter. Though I know you’ve not quite reached your full growth yet, it was made specifically for you, and will serve you better than any other you will likely find. You won’t out grow it either; the design was made with estimates of your full height and strength in mind, as you will likely have reached a year from now. Take good care of it.” Russellwen set the bow back in its case carefully, then leapt up from the table, ducking around it to give first her father, then her mother a fierce hug, murmuring her thanks into each of their necks. When she had returned to her place, her father turned to Caranwyn, pulling a second case up from behind him. Caranwyn eyed it warily, but the container was a different shape, much to her relief.

“This one is for you, Caranwyn.” He handed her the case and opened the catch, revealing this time simple, yet elegant sword. It was a two and a half feet from point to pommel, straight and honed, with a narrow crossguard, and just enough room for her to fit one hand comfortably on the hilt. A sigh of awe escaped Caranwyn as she lifted it free, feeling its careful balance before shifting one hand down to grip it firmly by the hilt and hold it out in front of her. As she inspected it, her father continued. “As before, this weapon was designed for you. It might be a touch heavy and long for you still, as it is, but not by much, and should suit you perfectly soon enough. One day soon, as well, you will be made a Captain of this City, and take up your duties. Though you may wield a number of weapons during your life, keep this by your side: it was made for you, and will serve you well at the last, if all other options should fail you.” Caranwyn could feel a hot burn in her cheeks and behind her eyes, though not quite enough to make tears flow. She had held and used many different weapons in the years of her training, true, but never before a weapon that was truly hers, and hers alone. She stood, picking up the simple, but sturdy sheath that lay neatly beneath the sword, and sheathed it, then stepped around the table to her father. She stood formally for a moment, sword in hand.
“My father, my Commander. Would you gird this sword upon me, that I might bear it proudly in battle?” Her father chuckled at her seriousness but quickly regained his composure, though he still smiled.
“My daughter, custom would demand that all young soldiers, upon obtaining a weapon to call their own, have it gird on them by the young woman of their choosing, though unless you’ve got a secret sweetheart somewhere I don’t know about, we may have to make an exception in your case.” He caught her momentary glance back at her sister and hesitated as he took the sword back. “Though, that could also work well enough. What do you say, Russellwen?” The other girl giggled and accepted the sword from her father, then jumped up to stand in front of Caranwyn, still grinning. In a quick motion, she belted it around the other girl’s waist, then leaned in to give her a quick, chaste kiss on the forehead, as was custom.

“Soldier of The Guard, fight bravely, for the White City, for Gondor, and for all who would call themselves Free.” The words were quiet, followed by a repeat of the gentle kiss before Russellwen stood back, grinning. She glanced at her father, over her sister’s shoulder. “That was right, wasn’t it?” The question was suffocated as Caranwyn hugged her tightly. Their mother stood from the table a moment later, still smiling at their joy.
“Right girls, that’s enough formality, I think. Sit yourselves down, and we’ll get a good meal into you before you clean up for the evening and get to bed. The world marches on tomorrow, after all.” The girls quickly resumed their places as their mother began serving out their evening meal; tonight, a full-bodied stew that was thick, rich and meaty, with crusty bread. They tackled it with zeal. Afterwards, there were sweetcakes as a treat, run through with small bits of fruit and sultanas.

Later on, after their parents had bid them goodnight, the girls lay close together in bed, washed, clean and in fresh shifts, cosy beneath the cover. Caranwyn chewed her lip for a moment.
“You think Father wants us out early with the others tomorrow? He wanted them early, for getting the afternoon, because of us.” She felt Russellwen shake her head.
“We had the day off anyway, the way I see it, so we didn’t actually miss any training time. So, we don’t have to show up early.”
“You think he’ll accept that?”
“Mmpff….” Russellwen shifted, snuggling into her pillow further. “He’ll have to; I’m certainly not getting up any earlier than I must. The mornings have been too cold for my liking lately.” Caranwyn giggled.
“You say that… but we might be out in the field some day, and have nothing to rest on but rocks and dirt, and no cover but our cloaks.”
“All the more reason to make the most of a warm, comfortable bed while I can, right?”
“You make an excellent point, my dear Russellwen,” Caranwyn responded, mock-formal, and snuggled in closer. Their conversation drifted on to other things for a short while, but the excitement of the day seemed to catch up to them swiftly, and they both fell asleep before long.

Caranwyn ran the numbers in her head as she looked at the map. It was doable; they could hold out. Long enough, anyway, and that was all that mattered at this point. Even so, the documents before her painted a bleak picture. They were laid out to form an image of the City’s defences, with other papers here and there listing soldier spread, numbers, injuries, and in some cases, damage to the walls. Outside the walls, other reports counted enemy numbers and formations, as far as could be recorded. They just had to hold the walls until the reinforcements from the south arrived tomorrow. Their numbers would be enough to turn the battle, and then they would push them all the way back to the Black Gates themselves, and tear them down. She took another drink of water, then began to relay orders to her sub-commanders, waiting behind the map table in the small command post they were using.

“They’ve been striking at two main points on the wall, here, and here. They have been damaged and weakened, and that’s surely where they mean to break through. Denith, Allagor, see that the main strength of our defences remain focussed there to counter them. Garthstan, have your unit rally and support the other squads along the walls; we can’t thin our defences anywhere else, because of the press, but give them what aid you can. I don’t expect them to keep it that simple though. Regardless of anything else our lines are thinned, with our focus on their main attack points. They’ll certainly try to force the walls at another point with a smaller force, elsewhere, but great enough to overwhelm the defenders. I believe they’ll make that thrust here.” She pointed to a section of the maps.

“There was some damage to the walls here long ago by a similar attack, and while it was repaired equally far back in the past, that point will be weaker than anywhere else. Belemir, I want your men to make their way to that point now, and be ready for the attack when it comes. Keep out of sight until you’re needed; if they know we’re waiting, they might change their plans. Celegeth, I want you in reserve. Be ready to back up Belemir when the time comes, but say mobile and ready until then, in case we need more numbers elsewhere ahead of time. Those are your orders men, get moving.” She snapped them a quick salute, and they responded smartly before heading out of the chamber. Caranwyn followed them a moment later.

Outside, Russellwen was waiting for her, bow slung on her back and quiver belted to one hip. She supported their family standard with her other hand, and looked to her sister with a worried smile as she emerged.
“The others all looked rushed and busy, what’s the situation now?”
“Grim. But this is the White City, and we are soldiers of Gondor: we will endure their assaults. I’ve given my orders, but the fighting is thick. We join them on the walls, where every sword counts.” They nodded once to each other, then took off, running for the defending line. They reached it just as the next wave struck, and Caranwyn cried out fiercely, sword raised high as she rallied the defence to throw them back. Blow after blow fell against the walls of the city, but the held firm, casting away the scalers and beating back the ravenous horde. The dawn would come soon, and with it, victory.

Just as it seemed the tide was turning, Caranwyn felt a sickening lurch in the pit of her gut, and the world seemed to tremble around her. She staggered, looking down, but there was no injury on her body, just a wrenching pain. A shadow gnawed at her mind, and she looked up, scanning her eyes over the battlefield far below. What was that sensation of dread building in her? As she watched, shadows seemed to rush in from every direction, welling into a rising vortex over the enemy forces. She couldn’t look away as it rose and took shape in front of her, becoming a massive figure, impenetrable, but standing as tall as the walls themselves, then taller, growing larger still, until she was craning her face upwards to look at him. He was black as the shadow that formed him, with terrible flames roaring in backdrop behind him. She could see a single bright red eye glowing fiercely in the centre of the being’s head, but no other features. She was standing alone on the battlements, sword in hand, as she looked on the very visage of the Dark Lord himself, and he looked back at her. Surely he could step right over their walls, and crush the City itself with ease. A terrible, soul-tearing laugh echoed across the battlefield as its eye held her in place.

“So truly has the blood of men failed, leaving their defences in the hands of a weak, useless girl-child.” It reached out a shadowy hand to point down at her, and Caranwyn felt her body lurch again, falling to her knees this time. “See how even her own body betrays and destroys her?” Again that piercing laughter. Looking down, Caranwyn could see blood running freely down the insides of her bare thighs as pain churned inside her still. In desperation, she called out for her sister, reaching out blindly until she found her hand. She managed to look across, but Russellwen was faring no better, collapsed to her knees nearby, holding her gut. The sight spurred Caranwyn to action, at least enough to pull herself over and grab her sister up in a hug, which the other girl returned fiercely.
“Hang in there,” she murmured to her sibling, whispering in Russellwen’s ear, “we’ll make it through, somehow.” As she spoke, the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, shining across the battlefield. The chilling laughter became a shriek of pain as the dark figure began to dissolve in the morning light.

Caranwyn sat up, groaning as she pressed a hand over her middle, then blinked, trying to clear her head. A dream was one thing, but why… she threw back the covers, flinching for a moment at the sight of blood on her thighs and the sheet beneath. Her groan seemed to have stirred Russellwen as well, who also recoiled slightly as she looked across at her sister. The girl threw off her own half of the cover to find that she, too, had been stricken down. They looked at each other for a few more seconds.
“Mother!” their unified call quickly brought the older woman to their room, dressed in a hurriedly thrown on long tunic. She looked at the girls then seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Well, welcome to womanhood, young ladies. Better late than never, as they say.” Caranwyn fell back to her pillow with a moan.
“I disagree! Never would have been acceptable.” Her mother smiled, but walked around to start coaxing the two out of bed.
“Oh hush, no complaining now, you both knew this was coming sooner or later. Now, up you get, and we’ll get you both cleaned up and these sheets stripped off.” Once they were up, she led them through to the bathing area and quickly drew some water for them to wash up with. As they cleaned, she disappeared and returned with several short strips of folded cloth, as well as their soiled bedclothes. She spoke to them as she began washing.

“So, we’ve made sure you both know most of what you need to before now, but don’t expect your cycles to be regular and predictable from the outset. They may take a couple of years to level out altogether, and you’ll pretty much be at their mercy until then, I’m sorry to say. You both clean? Good, fresh day clothes for you there, once you’re dried off. Now, while you are bleeding, you’ll both be wanting to wear a couple of these inside your underthings, to prevent messing any of your other clothes.” She passed them each a couple of the folded strips. “More important, you’re going to have to wash them very thoroughly in between uses, otherwise you’re likely to get all sorts of nasty infections in places you really don’t want ‘em. Now…” She sat back, hands on her knees for a moment, letting the stained sheets soak, and looked between the girls as they dressed. She bit her lip for a moment, then continued.
“If I had been raised here, rather than back on the plains, I’d be busy telling you both about the importance of being mindful of your personal honour, and even more so now that you’re becoming young maidens. I’d likely be busy telling you about it being important that you stay that way, and other such things. Lucky for you two, I know that the hearts and bodies of young women often don’t have personal honour as a high priority. So, as much as I’d like to think that any daughter of mine would keep a thought for her virtue and reputation, it’s more important that we’re honest with each other about this.” She took a breath, seeming to brace herself almost. “Do either of you suddenly find yourselves needing to know how an event like this bears upon you, and boys, and anything you might or might not be doing with them, and the consequences it might now have? We’ve spoken a little bit about it before now, but I’m not going to be angry if it’s something you really do need to understand the details of right now.” Her eyes moved between them and the girls shook their heads briefly. After a moment, though, Russellwen lifted her hand slightly.

“Um, I think it’s important that we both know all the details of… of intimacy, and, and what our cycles mean for that, and such, mother, but there aren’t any boys in the picture for me just yet, so it isn’t pressing.” She cast a confirming glance to her sister then added. “Caranwyn either.” Their mother nodded once, then stood, stretching for a moment.
“Right, good. We can save that chat for another time then. You both know that, when the time comes, you can always come and ask me, or talk to me, so, make sure you come and find out what you need to when some pretty boy catches your eye, alright?” As they nodded again she shooed them out of the bathing area, back into the common room of the house. They sat at the table for a moment, and their mother brought them each a drink of water and a couple of firm white cakes. Caranwyn winced, trying to ignore the tight, cramped feeling in her middle, but her mother noticed.
“I should have asked how you’re both feeling, now that you’re cleaned up and awake. How bad, Caranwyn?” The girl tried to smile, and took a sip of her water.
“I’ll deal with it.”
“Hmm… Well, if it gets too serious, come and see me, there are one or two things we might do that will help with cramps. What about you, Russellwen?”
“I don’t feel too bad, now that I’m clean. Just a little bit queasy.”
“Ok then, finish up quickly then, the pair of you, and get moving. You’re father already headed out while we were getting you sorted, so you’d best hurry if you don’t want to be late. We’ll talk more this evening, alright?” The girls finished their food and gave their mother a quick hug before racing out the door.

As they made their way down towards the training yard, Caranwyn related what she could remember of her dream to her sister, though, in the light of day, it sounded quite silly to her, more than anything else. Russellwen seemed interested enough though, bemoaning her inability to recall anything from her own nights’ dreaming, aside from that her own dreams had been equally troubled. When they reached the training area the others were just lining up and waved to the sisters. Caranwyn cursed under her breath as she remembered the importance of the day; amongst their regular drilling and practice, they were to have their final competency test for their archery, though Russellwen was already pursuing further training in that area. Her sister giggled at her quietly, and ribbed at her with a good-natured smile.
“You could always try for another day off, because of the curses of your weak, womanly body?” She laughed aloud as Caranwyn growled at the prospect.
“Show me that target.” She muttered, gritting her teeth.

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