((Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's places, characters, names, etc. I own…erm..whatever you see that dosen't belong to him. ^_^ Thanks once again to the wonderful 'Ro, for reading and commenting))
"Taurwen, don't forget to call your brother inside, as well. It will be dark soon," A tall, dark-haired and very formidable woman called out to a retreating figure in the gathering darkness of evening.
This woman was standing on the steps of a rather small and rough cottage, clad in an off-white apron and plain dark brown dress. She held in one hand a broom, but looked as if she might have held a sword and looked no less intimidating. She was not young, but only a couple places of white streaked her long hair. In her cloudy grey eyes there was evidence of a lifetime of tarrying and worry, but also a good deal of fortitude. It was a habit of the Dunedain to carry themselves proudly, as they were well aware of their heritage.
"Yes, mother," A light, young female voice carried back across the clearing.
A few more cottages were scattered about nearby, all of them very similar in appearance. The soft yellow glow of candles was beginning to show up in the windows now that night was approaching. Around the small glade were tall and impressive trees, mostly oaks, but a few pines here and there, and perhaps a maple or two to be found. The canopy of light spring green leaves and evergreen needles knit together to almost completely hide the dwellings from the sky. Farther in the distance, the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains loomed just visible over the treetops. They were in a valley, of sorts, protected partly by the mountains and partially by an expanse of forest to the west.
No road led to this glade, nor even came close to it. At least, no roads that the uncommon traveler would find. The only ones who knew this wild realm and it's hidden paths well were those called 'Rangers' and their kin, and those very few who still knew of this ancient people. They were the Exiles of Numenor - the Dunedain of the North of whom few remained.
The young woman, Taurwen, gathered her cloak about her against the wind as she walked. Spring was still new, especially this far into the mountains, and the remainder of winter's cold still came after the sun set. She was very alike to her mother in appearance, having the same cloudy grey eyes and dark hair. She still lacked the sternness and suspicion that would likely come with age. She had been without great strain or tragedy to age her beyond her eighteen years.
She walked slowly, but without wandering, around the corner of the little house, and to a pile of firewood which was stacked neatly. Taurwen's father, Archall, refused to let the task of chopping wood be taken up by anyone else, and he was the one who was so meticulous about the way it was piled.
Archall's days of wandering the wilds were over. In a skirmish with orcs some twenty years before he had received nearly-mortal wounds that left him nearly unable to walk. The stubborn and proud man recovered more use of his left leg than anyone had suspected, but still he had much difficulty moving around. Taurwen had insisted a couple of times that she was quite capable of doing this particular job, but Archall would not hear of it. Even Arthon, the eldest son and his father's true pride, could not dissuade Archall. Neither of Taurwen's parents were ones to be argued with. How she could not have inherited at least a good part of that stubborness was a source of wonder for anyone who knew the family.
"Aradol," She said calmly as she began gathering up the pieces of expertly cut wood. "You might as well come down out of that tree, I know you're there. Mother said to come inside." She did not even look up to emphasize her words. An audible groan from somewhere overhead was the only sign of reply for a few moments.
"How did you know I was here?" Aradol, a young lad of twelve years, demanded from his sister. The boy was sitting perched on the branch of a huge oak that nearly over-shadowed the house. He was currently trying to sound only passingly interested in how his sister had found him out but the disappointment was all too clear in his tone. He inched down the branch and past the upper branches and leaves before then dropping more or less lightly to the ground. He made no further move foward, but after a brief reproving glance from Taurwen, he trudged over to help her carry the firewood. His dark green tunic had a new rip in it, Taurwen noticed, right above the hem of the sleeve. He had gotten that when getting into some michief earlier in the day, no doubt.
"You were fidgeting about up there and anyone within a mile or two could have heard your boots scraping across the bark of that tree," Taurwen explained with a smile and then shifted her load to one arm so that she could reach over to affectionately ruffle her little brother's jet-black hair. "And besides, I knew you were back out here somewhere not too far off. It's nearly dinner time, after all, and I've never known you to miss that," She added in an effort to console the boy's somewhat hurt pride.
"Stop that," He growled half-heartedly at his hair being mussed but he had no free hand with which to shove her away. "I'm almost thirteen, you know, and I'm not a little boy." He reminded the family of this more and more now that his birthday was coming up soon. He was looking foward to it because he'd been promised that he would get to go out with Arthon and the other Rangers. He'd been keeping up with his practicing, and whenever he had a chance he was haunting the woods around the house. He would track the deer and rabbits and such that came close, or practice his aim with a bow. Sometimes even both one right after the other.
Of course, every time Arthon came home, he was immediately set upon by the eager boy. First, Aradol would want to hear all about what he had been doing, where he had gone, and who he had met in his travels. Once he had gotten as much information out of him as he could get, he would then beg to be taught some fencing lessons, or perhaps some archery tricks that he had yet to learn. Arthon did not mind at all, having a great deal of affection for both his younger siblings and an admirable amount of patience.
"Yes, I know. You are nearly a young man. Certainly not a child anymore," Taurwen said with just enough seriousness to pacify Aradol. He was growing up fast. It seemed as if it had been just yesterday that he had only been a baby. Although Caleneth would not speak of it, the girl knew her mother truly did not want to see her youngest son go out as Archall had once done and as Arthon was still doing. Already she worried over Arthon more than she would admit, even though he was twenty-six and fully capable of taking care of himself. A grimace crossed Taurwen's face briefly, but her brother did not notice.
"I was hoping that Arthon would make it home tonight, but I guess that he was held up," Ardol admitted, moving on to a new subject. He was accumulating a almost perilous amount of wood as he spoke, and it was piling up in his arms rather quickly. "He is coming within the week. He said he would before he left last time," The boy said firmly. Taurwen was well aware that he had already, but she knew Ardol would feel better to talk, so she did not interrupt. "And he said when he got back that he was going to tell me all about that weird fellow...what was his name? Orald, I think he said. He wouldn't tell me a thing about him, only that he was a fascinating, but insanely odd creature. Oh, and he promised to bring me something from Bree. I wish I could visit Bree." An eager glint shone in his pale grey-blue eyes. He wanted to go places! Staying at home and listening to tales of old times, and new, and infinitely more exciting in his opinion, ones from his brother was only so well. Ardol wanted to have stories of his own to tell.
Like most young boys, he dreamed of glorious days as a warrior out in the wild. He knew very well that it wasn't anywhere near as wonderful as he made it sound sometimes, but to him even trudging about in cold mud all day in some remote corner of Chetwood sounded exciting compared to what he was doing now.
"I wish sometimes that I would see Bree, or even visit Rivendell one day," Taurwen said wistfully as she snatched a few pieces of wood from Ardol before he dropped his entire stack. Ardol had the good sense not to complain about it as they turned about to head back to the front of the house.
"You?" Ardol sounded surprised. "But you're a girl," He said, as if this fact itself would keep her from traveling very far from the family.
"So?" Taurwen countered and raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Just because I'm female dosen't mean that I cannot ride or walk just as well as anyone else. From the sound of it, one might think that I had just admitted that I wanted to turn into a toad, or something of the like." She really wasn't altogether sure that she would ever be able to travel very far. The people of Bree and beyond were quite different, so she had heard, and elves...well, elves were another story altogether.
Aradol didn't reply to that, though he still thought it a very silly idea for his sister to have. He just sighed heavily as he followed her in the growing darkness.
There would be no moon out that night, but a few stars were already visible here and there in the sky. The breeze had died down, and now it was very quiet. Out under the trees it was already dark, and the nocturnal creatures were likely just now starting their wanderings. There was something distinctly unique about the place. Something about the fact that it was so hidden and remote, existing with hardly any influence from the rest of Arda gave it an almost surreal quality. Of course, Taurwen and Aradol would not have really noticed this, as it was all that they had ever known.
"It's about time," Caleneth was waiting for them at the doorway. She stepped aside to make room for them to come in. "I'd almost decided that you two had gone to chop some fresh wood for some Eru-forsaken reason." She was joking, of course, but it was not so plain in her voice or expression. "Come on inside, we'll have dinner in just a moment. Oh, Aradol, what have you done to your shirt?" She said all of this very quickly. Taurwen had been the first to arrive, so she slipped on by first and in doing so avoided getting any comments.
Aradol looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, mother. I...didn't mean to," He murmured simply.
"Oh well, I'll have to mend that, and it's one of your good ones too. It's always the nice ones that you seem to be the hardest on," His mother said while shaking her head. Aradol walked on in silently, as he had the good sense not to argue with the venerable lady.
"Such children," Caleneth murmured with an exasperated sigh as she pulled the door shut behind her.