A/N: This idea for a story belongs to my dad. Yeah, he thought of it. But it's a good idea, so I'm writing it.

I own (kind of) Kára, Myst, and Sváva. Anything else belongs to those nice folks [kofftyrantskoff] at Tolkien Estates.

- - -

"All hail King Léod!"

The cheer resounded around Kára as she delicately made her way the crowd. Wærfer was just ahead, grinning, a cup of mead in his hand.

"Late as usual, eh, Kára?" he asked. "You know, maybe if you actually got here on time for once, you wouldn't have to do that."

"But I've gotten so good at pushing my way through groups of drunken Éothéod," she decared. Then her mother spotted her and came over. Oh dear, she thought. Mother will know I was late. Kára herself didn't mind being late - as she had told Wærfer, she was good at slipping through masses of people, and reaching her family or friends. Unfortunately, her mother, Ælfwynne, was trying to get their family a higher standing in the eyes of Léod, lord of the Éothéod, and her only daughter always being late was probably not a way to do that, especially on feast days. Kára couldn't see how being late today would do anything: all most of the people gathered there were already drunk, Léod included.

Ælfwynne reached her children, Wærfer still grinning, Kára looking like she had been there for hours and, consequently, bored to death.

"Where have you been?" she asked, addressing Kára.

She tilted her head, appearing to think hard. "Well, let's see. I was over there--" she pointed to a table where her friends Myst and Sváva were sitting "--and then I was here!'

Her mother did not believe her; the look on Ælfwynne's face was incredulous. "You were?"

Kára nodded. Sighing, her mother walked away.

"Close one," said Wærfer, and he motioned towards Myst and Sváva's table with his cup. "Better go make sure dear mother doesn't check with them."

For once, her older brother actually made sense. She headed over.

"Kára!" cried Myst. "You're alive!"

"We thought for sure your mother would have run you through, for being late on such an important day," Sváva added.

"And of course, you see, everyone noticed my late arrival. Which is why they're all staring at me."

Myst and Sváva laughed; no one (except Ælfwynne) even cared about Kára's chosen time of entry, least of all Kára herself.

Kára was small, easily overlooked, especially by the warriors who trained the children of the Éothéod in fighting. Myst and Sváva were cousins, taller than Kára, and skilled in the use of a sword, both on horseback and off. Kára was not overly fond of weapons, but, like all of the Éothéod, could use some. Their lifestyle was not a peaceful one; they were constantly fighting off intruders from the South, and, of late, the Greenwood. Some among them were beginning to call Greenwood the Great Mirkwood instead, and rumors told of darkness taking hold on the forest.

As for Kára and her friends, they couldn't care less about a shadow in the Greenwood. They spent their days riding, practicing with weapons, and lazing about, talking. However, they were often called on to help their families, or, on feast days like today, celebrate everything -- from family to horses to king to their very way of life.

"What'd I miss?" Kára asked.

"Nothing much. Lord Léod gave a speech--"

"Which was boring," interrupted Myst.

"Giese, very boring and very long, and then there was a toast and you came in."

"Mm."

"You were lucky you missed the speech though, Kár," Myst informed her.

Kára smiled. "You sound like you hated it."

"I did."

"It wasn't so bad as Myst makes it sound," said Sváva thoughtfully. "There was some stuff about Gondor in it."

Myst smiled as well. They both knew of Sváva's interest - bordering on obsession - with anything to do with Gondor. Though they both found Gondor interesting, neither of them were as intrigued by it as their other friend.

"He said that Gondor--" Sváva broke off as Myst clasped her hand over her cousin's mouth. "Mmph!" she protested, and attempted to remove Myst's hand.

Laughing, Kára watched them fight. They three spent the rest of the feast either trying to talk about Gondor or trying to prevent talking about Gondor.

Little did they know how much Gondor would affect their lives.

- - -

A/N: Giese is Old English for 'yes'. Tolkien never actually says that the Rohirrim/Éothéod had feast days, but in a way it makes sense – the Anglo-Saxon/Norse societies (off which the Éothéod/Rohirrim are based) did. The names are either Old English or Old Norse, both of which are suitable, as Tolkien's Rohirric characters have either Old English or Old Norse names.

And no, the plot has not really come to light yet.

Also, the title may change.