PART I
Wild Rose was six the year King Elessar was crowned. She remembered that day very clearly, no matter how long passed. That was the first day she had seen anyone from outside of her tight-knit community. For many, it had been. People rarely left their little isle. They had no reason to -- it was lovely there. The wild roses bloomed everywhere in the summers. Birdcalls echoed through the trees and over meadows. Sunlight was more solid there than anywhere else. In all of Middle-Earth, nowhere was the sunlight so full of intentions and magic.
Or so the herald said, when he came to the Isle, as all who dwelt there called it. The Isle was a little bit of land of the coast of Gondor. It was just a few leagues north of the Bay of Belfalas, but many leagues away from the mainland. It had taken much searching for the herald and his ship to find.
The herald himself was a more intimidating person than Wild Rose had ever seen. He was tall, for one thing. For another, he was paler. The residents of the Isle spent almost all of their time outdoors. Even in winter, which was rather harsh, you could step out your front door and see someone coming up a lane or down a path that-a-way.
"His majesty, King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor, decrees that all who dwell within his realms be told as soon as possible of his taking of the throne, and that...." the herald droned. Wild Rose was sure that the grown- ups were interested in this man's talk, but she wasn't. Even his forceful presence had worn off the little girl when she realized that he wasn't staying. If he was going to, she would have made friends with him, or tried to at least. Many thought she was the most amiable girl they had ever met; and most of the adults in the Isle had known quite a lot of people.
"Briar," said a girl next to her, her best friend, Lark. All Wild Rose's friends and most other people, too, called her Briar, which was short for her real name, Briar Rose. For she was stubborn as a briar, her mother said.
"Briar," said Lark again. "Wanna come with me? I'm going to pick berries."
"Yeah!" whispered Briar, glad to get away from the boring man and his boring speech.
The two little girls left, Wild Rose shaking her thick reddish blonde hair away from her face. They had just begun to think that they had gotten away safely when a rough hand grabbed Briar's arm. Her eyes widened as she looked up into a face every bit as rough as the hand.
"What is this place?" the man asked. Briar and Lark were both frightened nearly to death by this strange man, who dared to talk Briar.
"The Isle," Wild Rose managed to squeak.
"What Isle?"
"Just the Isle!"
"It's just the Isle!" screeched Lark, enraged. Forgetting that she was just a little girl and this a full-grown man, she ran forward and kicked him, hard.
Wild Rose, encouraged by her friend's loyalty, tried to squirm free, and, when the grip held, bit the man (who was laughing at Lark) hard. The man stopped laughing and would have taken a swipe at them both -- but for his laughing friend, who pulled him away.
Briar and Lark were both deeply shaken by this incident. As they picked the very fresh, very delicious raspberries that grew just outside their little town, they thought about it. Neither of them had ever had to lie like that before. And neither of them even knew what they were lying for.
Their Isle, it wasn't just 'the Isle," it was the Isle of the Young. For some reason, their parents and relatives and friends' parents parents and everyone else didn't want anyone from "somewhere else," as it was put, to know that. The little girls didn't understand why. But somehow, just then, the question that would plague them until they were grown didn't seem so bad. Sunlight settled over them like a lovely blanket, hiding them from troubles. They ate their fresh raspberries and relaxed, somehow, as if the earth and the berries and the wild roses growing nearby all seemed to want their daughters to be at peace.
Wild Rose was six the year King Elessar was crowned. She remembered that day very clearly, no matter how long passed. That was the first day she had seen anyone from outside of her tight-knit community. For many, it had been. People rarely left their little isle. They had no reason to -- it was lovely there. The wild roses bloomed everywhere in the summers. Birdcalls echoed through the trees and over meadows. Sunlight was more solid there than anywhere else. In all of Middle-Earth, nowhere was the sunlight so full of intentions and magic.
Or so the herald said, when he came to the Isle, as all who dwelt there called it. The Isle was a little bit of land of the coast of Gondor. It was just a few leagues north of the Bay of Belfalas, but many leagues away from the mainland. It had taken much searching for the herald and his ship to find.
The herald himself was a more intimidating person than Wild Rose had ever seen. He was tall, for one thing. For another, he was paler. The residents of the Isle spent almost all of their time outdoors. Even in winter, which was rather harsh, you could step out your front door and see someone coming up a lane or down a path that-a-way.
"His majesty, King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor, decrees that all who dwell within his realms be told as soon as possible of his taking of the throne, and that...." the herald droned. Wild Rose was sure that the grown- ups were interested in this man's talk, but she wasn't. Even his forceful presence had worn off the little girl when she realized that he wasn't staying. If he was going to, she would have made friends with him, or tried to at least. Many thought she was the most amiable girl they had ever met; and most of the adults in the Isle had known quite a lot of people.
"Briar," said a girl next to her, her best friend, Lark. All Wild Rose's friends and most other people, too, called her Briar, which was short for her real name, Briar Rose. For she was stubborn as a briar, her mother said.
"Briar," said Lark again. "Wanna come with me? I'm going to pick berries."
"Yeah!" whispered Briar, glad to get away from the boring man and his boring speech.
The two little girls left, Wild Rose shaking her thick reddish blonde hair away from her face. They had just begun to think that they had gotten away safely when a rough hand grabbed Briar's arm. Her eyes widened as she looked up into a face every bit as rough as the hand.
"What is this place?" the man asked. Briar and Lark were both frightened nearly to death by this strange man, who dared to talk Briar.
"The Isle," Wild Rose managed to squeak.
"What Isle?"
"Just the Isle!"
"It's just the Isle!" screeched Lark, enraged. Forgetting that she was just a little girl and this a full-grown man, she ran forward and kicked him, hard.
Wild Rose, encouraged by her friend's loyalty, tried to squirm free, and, when the grip held, bit the man (who was laughing at Lark) hard. The man stopped laughing and would have taken a swipe at them both -- but for his laughing friend, who pulled him away.
Briar and Lark were both deeply shaken by this incident. As they picked the very fresh, very delicious raspberries that grew just outside their little town, they thought about it. Neither of them had ever had to lie like that before. And neither of them even knew what they were lying for.
Their Isle, it wasn't just 'the Isle," it was the Isle of the Young. For some reason, their parents and relatives and friends' parents parents and everyone else didn't want anyone from "somewhere else," as it was put, to know that. The little girls didn't understand why. But somehow, just then, the question that would plague them until they were grown didn't seem so bad. Sunlight settled over them like a lovely blanket, hiding them from troubles. They ate their fresh raspberries and relaxed, somehow, as if the earth and the berries and the wild roses growing nearby all seemed to want their daughters to be at peace.