[Lasbelinion]

Callë laughed, a deep and merry sound. She slapped her thigh as if she had just heard the funniest thing ever. ‘Oh my goodness, no! Not the youngest!’ She shook her head, her generous mouth bowing up into a huge grin. ‘Sorry . . . I’m the middle daughter in my family. And glad of it!’

She lined up five pieces of cheese on her plate. ‘Now these two are my older sisters,’ she said moving the first two pieces, the ones to her left, forward. ‘Anni and Alli; born just a year apart. And being the first two, my mother had a lot of time and energy to put into their upbringing. They are much like her . . . and in fact they seem more like her sisters than her daughters, now that they are older.’

‘And these,’ she went on, pushing forth the two on her right, ‘are my two younger sisters. Britta, two years younger than I and a spirited little filly as her Rohan husband calls her. And wasn’t that a scandal in the family, the whole village, really. Marrying a man of the Mark – ancient enemies of we folk of Dunland. My mother took to her bed for weeks, certain she would die of embarrassment.’ Callë rolled her eyes and sighed in a dramatic manner.

‘Beryl, the gem of my father’s eye, is four years younger than I. Mother was determined to make a suitable match for her, and did so at last – the marchwarden’s youngest son. Poor Father! He would rather she had not married at all. She is much doted on by him, even now.’

Picking up the middle piece of cheese, Callë held it in the palm of her hand. ‘And here I am. In the middle and quite wonderfully ignored for the most part. As long as I stepped not too far outside the social boundaries my Mother fancies for herself and her brood, I was free to explore the village and surrounds on my own, make friends with all sorts of people in the village and critters in the small forested area near us. A ghost child . . . that’s how I often thought of myself.’

Callë gathered the cheese up and stuffed them into a bun. She munched on it, swallowing the mouthful down with a healthy swig of ale. ‘At any rate . . . there they all are, married and happy for the most part I think. And good for them, I say!’ She raised her mug in salute. ‘And here am I, traveling north, free as a summer’s breeze. And very happy, in my own way.’

She sighed, a well satisfied sigh, and pushed away her now empty plate. Sitting back in her chair, she gave Aniriel a smile. ‘What about you? I’m traveling purely for my own pleasure. Is it the same for you?’ She thought not; the women seemed to have some secrets hidden behind her eyes. But she kept her own counsel, wondering what Aniriel would say.