"My lord," Halthar bowed deferentially to his king, "the ladies from Balinor are here."
King Thranduil nodded almost imperceptibly. He was no friend to the race of men, but his ally had asked him if he might safely remove his daughter to Mirkwood until the looming threat of war subsided. The king in question had traded with the woodland realm for many years and he had gradually earned Thranduil's respect. Today brought the princess from Balinor with her ladies in waiting. Thranduil watched as they paraded across the courtyard for an audience with him. He disliked human women especially. He believed that elves were as superior in mind as they were in body and the females of the race of men struck him as particularly vulgar. He recognized the princess immediately. She wore a fine brocaded frock and the jewels that adorned her person seemed numberless. Her face was pleasant enough and her voice had a light airy quality. She cleared her throat before she started to speak, "We thank you, great Elvenking, for granting us refuge here. You do us a great honor and we sincerely hope that one day we may endeavor to repay your kindness."
"I sincerely hope that there will never be a need," he replied, sweeping his gaze over her coldly. She certainly wasn't lovely enough to tempt him. He often wondered how even the race of men themselves found their women alluring. They were so coarse, always putting themselves on display. Even now, he felt like there was something in her speech that was designed to make this girl desirous. There was supposed to be something about her rounded bosom and her rosy cheeks that made men want to draw close. The Elvenking was repulsed. He motioned for Halthar to show them to their quarters. They would be comfortable enough and with any luck they wouldn't stay long. As the procession passed him he noticed one of the ladies in waiting bore a striking resemblance to the princess. It was more than the common resemblance humans from a similar geography often bore to each other. This was a remarkable similarity and yet she bore no marks of distinction. She was no more richly attired than the other ladies and they seemed to pay her no special reverence. Admittedly, Thranduil paid her a little more attention than was necessary. Unlike her twin, this woman carried herself with a grace he had always thought was particular to elves. She walked lightly and made no sound and as they passed him he heard her laugh. The sound was clear, like a bell. Thranduil felt a tightening in his gut that he had not felt for many centuries.
The ladies' procession made their way to their chambers without further fanfare. They laughed freely and easily as each one imagined what new diversions their present accommodations might provide. The princess was called Anoria. She was a pretty girl of seventeen and she hoped it might provide a chance at romance. Her father loved her so well that when she was at home, she was scarcely away from his side. She hoped that this short, for it never occurred to her that their stay would be anything other than short, foray into Elven country would provide her with much needed amusement and perhaps affection.
Three of the ladies were sisters. Lucinda, Dorinda, and Belinda hoped for nothing beyond their own pleasure and amusement. They were sixteen, eighteen, and twenty, respectively, and up to this point, their life experience had endowed them with nothing that could be construed as compassion. They thought little for others beyond their circle and their chief concern was for their own comfort and diversion. They came from an old, though no longer particularly wealthy family in the countryside of Balinor. Their parents had hoped that a life at court might afford their daughters opportunities for betterment through an advantageous marriage. Nothing of that sort had materialized yet, but the girls were so fond of each other and so ready to be fond of anyone who was admitted into their society that they did not feel it as a loss. Surely the marriage of one of them meant that the three of them would be parted and that would be a very great loss indeed. The final lady, was called Brinya. The Elvenking's observations had been keen. She bore a very great resemblance to Princess Anoria. In fact, the two of them were half sisters. The illegitimate daughter of King Stephen of Balinor and a palace kitchen maid, Brinya's life had been an unpredictable one. She was dearly loved by her mother's family and she spent the early days of her youth in a tiny fishing village near a small sea. Grandfather had taught her how to make nets and hooks and how to read the onset of a storm in the color of the water.
Grandmother had taught her to bake crab cakes, and lobster cakes, and to batter cod to perfection. The village was so small that almost everyone was related somehow, so Brinya grew up among a myriad of distant cousins who loved and tormented her accordingly. Brinya's mother wasn't the first village girl to leave for work and come back in trouble, so she was a popular topic of conversation until she wasn't. As a child, Brinya would look up at the moon and wonder on long nights who her father could be. The moon seemed as likely as anyone because her small life had brought her into contact with so few unknown men. She couldn't imagine meeting anyone she would be willing to sacrifice her good name and marriage prospects to have, but she didn't blame her mother. She had a good life and she was grateful.
Everything changed the summer she turned nine. Her mother fell ill and when it looked like her recovery was unlikely a letter was dispatched to the palace. At the time, Brinya had taken no notice of the letter. She was much too occupied doing what she could for her mother and wishing that she could do more. A fortnight later, her mother was dead and Brinya felt a cold loneliness creep into her bones that she worried would never go away. It had never occurred to her that she wouldn't spend her life in this fishing village. She never dreamed that fate would take her away from the friends and family she had known and loved so well for all of her years. While she grieved her mother's death, she did her best to comfort the many others who felt her loss and to take over as many of her mother's domestic duties as she could.
Three days after the funeral, a man on horseback rode into the village. In itself, this was a noteworthy event because few in the surrounding area had the means for owning horses and all who did were known to the inhabitants of the village. This man was a stranger to them and they regarded him with a mixture of caution and awe. He wore fine clothes and carried a sword decorated with rubies at the hilt. He seemed important and sad. Eventually he tied his horse to a tree outside Brinya's cottage and with what seemed like trepidation, knocked on the door. Brinya's grandfather answered and resignedly asked the man inside. Brinya could hardly believe what was happening. There was a stranger in her cottage! This was by far the most exciting thing that ever happened. When she remembered that day in later life, she was glad she hadn't known what was happening. Her grandfather and the stranger spoke for a while in the kitchen. Brinya couldn't tell time and had no idea if the visit was short or long. Eventually, her grandfather called her to him.
"Brinya," he said putting his worn fisherman's hands on her shoulders, "this man is your father, King Stephen." Brinya gaped at him through an open mouth. She had heard of King Stephen of course, but she could never in her wildest dreams have thought that she would ever set eyes on him.
The king regarded her with his kind, sad eyes, "Hello, Brinya," he said as he tried to smile. "I'm so sorry about your mother." Brinya nodded, too numb to say anything in return. Why was he sorry about her mother? He hadn't seen her for years. He couldn't miss her the way Brinya and her grandparents would. It wasn't possible. As Brinya thought all these things, she became angry. She wanted this man to leave, but why was he here?
Grandfather's eyes filled with tears as he spoke, "He's come to take you away to a better life. You can have more than life here can offer."
"No!" Brinya cried, "This is my home. I won't go and you can't make me. This is the only life I've ever known. How can you ask me to leave it? Mother is gone. Haven't I lost enough already?" Tears streamed down her pink cheeks. Grandfather couldn't mean it. This was her home.
Grandfather's voice was gentle, but firm when he spoke, "You're meant for more than this, my girl. Out there, you can be educated. You'll have opportunities you could never dream here. You can become a proper lady."
"I don't want to be a proper lady," she wept, "I don't want education or opportunities. I want to stay here with you and Grandmother. I'll help you. I can do Mother's work."
Grandfather pulled her into a strong embrace and stroked her hair. "This is what your mother wanted for you. She wanted you to have chances she never did and to see and learn things she never could. She made us promise when the time came, we wouldn't keep you here."
Brinya tried to pull herself together. The mention of her mother brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she exerted herself to push them back. If this was what her mother had wanted, then she had to make an effort to obey her wishes. It would be the best way to honor her memory. Oh, how she wished she didn't have to go!
King Stephen knelt down and took one of Brinya's small hands in his own large ones. "I'm sorry that we're meeting under these circumstances," he said, "but I'm glad to meet you all the same. I know we don't know each other and I haven't been a father to you for all of these years, but things will be different now. You'll have the finest clothes and the best teachers. From now on, you'll live like a princess."
A new thought occurred to the girl. "Am I a princess?," she asked.
The king looked uncomfortable. "No," he said at length.
"Because I'm illegitimate?" asked Brinya. She had heard the other children talk. She knew what illegitimate meant. It hadn't mattered much until this point in her life. She was Brinya. Everyone knew her and she had place here. The circumstances of her birth were of no consequence.
"Yes," he answered, looking pained, "You can never be my heir, but you will be regarded as a noble of the highest standing. The ladies at court will fight to be your friends and when you are older the men will vie for your hand in marriage."
She would later learn that this wasn't strictly true, but at least her father had tried to make her feel better. Her appearance at court was somewhat polarizing. Some of the ladies regarded her as an outsider and resented her intrusion into royal life. Others felt compassion for her and treated her with kindness. Since she altered nothing in the way of succession, she posed no threat. There were certainly no men who vied for her affection, either when she arrived as a grubby nine-year-old or when she matured into a comely young woman. Without a dowry, her marriage prospects were poor. She didn't mind. In time she came to accept and even appreciate her new life. She learned reading, writing, dancing, the harp, history, geography, French, Latin, and even some fencing until the Queen Demelza determined it was too unladylike.
If Brinya had known more of the world, she might have assumed that her stepmother would be wicked, but she would have been wrong. If the queen didn't regard Brinya exactly as a daughter, she perhaps regarded her as an unfortunate niece who had been placed in her care. Demelza knew very well that Brinya had no claims to land, titles, or wealth, and she therefore stressed every opportunity to develop her personal attributes. They would be all the girl had to recommend herself when the time came to find a husband. For her part, Brinya was so good natured that she soon regarded her stepmother as a model for everything a lady ought to be. The queen was never cross and never raised her voice. She did not talk excessively and when she did her voice was musical and her anecdotes were amusing and didactic. She moved with graceful purpose and was unfailingly kind to those around her. The only time Brinya witnessed any meanness in her stepmother, it was for her own sake.
Not long after Brinya's arrival at the palace, she had been playing with some of the smaller children in the palace kitchen and had knocked over a pitcher of wine. One of the kitchen maids had called her a bastard, not knowing queen was within earshot. The poor woman hardly had time to register the sting of the slap on her face before she was seized by the hair and dragged into the courtyard. A manservant was called and instructed to beat the maid until the queen was satisfied that she had learned her place. She later recalled that the queen had said that disrespect to any member of the royal family was treason and treason was punishable by death. Brinya never forgot this incident. It reminded her how lucky she was to have the Queen Demelza as her friend instead of her enemy.
In time, the king and queen were blessed with a child of their own, a little girl named Anoria. Brinya regarded the birth of her little sister with such joy and treated the princess with so much uncommon affection that it would have been enough to melt any icy heart. Any reservations Demelza may have felt for her stepdaughter evaporated when she how well she looked after Anoria. The years passed quickly and quietly for the royal family. The daughters grew into lovely young women and new suitors arrived daily to beg for Anoria's hand in marriage. She refused them all and proclaimed that she would only marry for love. Her parents secretly hoped that love came with political ties and an appropriate pedigree, but their daughter was still young and they were in no hurry to part with her, so they made no mention of this.
As Brinya grew older and gradually came to understand that she would probably never marry, she began to take on pursuits less becoming to a lady. She renewed her childhood interest in fencing and took up archery and knife throwing as well. If she was to be denied the traditional female sphere of influence, then she would make her own sphere and influence where she could. The men at arms regarded her at first with suspicion and then with mockery. Was this a test? How were they supposed to continue their training with a woman? What if she got hurt? Would the king have their heads? As her fighting skills improved so did her skills at conversation with them and in time they came to regard this odd little unprincess, as they called her, with a brotherly affection. "My deepest apologies, your unmajesty," they would say if she was bruised during sword fighting or, "My humble regrets, your unhighness," if she was out paced in riding.
It was never officially discussed if Brinya should become one of Anoria's ladies in waiting. The sisters' natural affection for each other and Brinya's quiet easy temperament made her a natural choice for a companion. That she lacked an official title of nobility was cause for gossip only when visitors came from outside the kingdom. The royal family's affection for her was widely known and the court at Balinor regarded her as their own special darling. No one from Balinor would have been surprised that King Thranduil's gaze lingered on her a little longer than it needed to. After all, their Brinya was special and to a man who already possessed lands and title, she would make a fine bride.