[Envinyatar]

Tenzin looked up from the designs he had scratched in the dirt beside him, and laughed softly. ‘Ah, yes! I had forgotten the strange customs of those beyond the borders of Rhûn. Here the men have all the say, and own the families, and their wealth.’ He drew his knees up near his chest and circled his legs with his arms. ‘Which would not be a problem were all men honorable, but they are not.’

He looked round the camp at the women, worn and sore from their travels and from the hard times their lives had dealt them. ‘It is different in my country. The lines of descent pass through the Mother’s family. Women are honored there, their voices heard in the decisions that are made. And yes, they are the ones who bear the children for the clans and keep them healthy and the clans strong, so it is their choice to make - who they will take to husband.’

Rhûnnaro had come quietly up behind the two as they spoke, listening with interest to what was said. His low voice broke in on a question Fionel was just set to ask. ‘You realize, of course, that women can be as cruel as men, as grasping, as deceitful, and as ruthless.’ He squatted down to be on a level with the two. My young friend here is idealistic, as young men should be. And as so, he bears the burden of an honorable man, whose ideals are not always met in the realities of daily life.’ His eyes hardened and he stared into the distance, remembering past histories. ‘There have been times when women in Rhûn have not lived up to the qualities we would like to see in them. Just as men here often fall short of the mark, though some it seems come dangerously close to no longer being Men at all.’

He stood, his gaze fixing on Turos, whose labors with the makeshift spears were bearing fruit. ‘Fionel, see if you can get the others up. Tenzin help her pass out the spears and let them get the heft of them in their hands. The women are strong, but small, and the spear’s length will give them some advantage against a taller foe with longer arms and a sword in hand.’

The older man watched as the two drew near Turos and collected the spears he had finished. Tenzin hung back, holding the spears as Fionel approached each of the women. ‘Good,’ he said to himself, noting how they worked together. ‘Let her take the lead, these are her companions, let her draw them into some feeling of hope.’

His eyes glinted for a moment, and a smile played lightly at the corners of his mouth as he watched the shared glances when their fingers slid over one another’s in the handling of the spears. ‘This is how young people should be,’ he thought, thinking of his own children.

Like a cloud covering over the sun, Rhûnnaro’s expression darkened, and he steeled his thoughts against these ordinary images, remembering the darkness of the men who sought them . . .