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Old 09-02-2003, 10:51 AM   #14
Belin
Shade of Carn Dûm
 
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Silmaril

Tinuviel of Denton's post

The Hillwoman frowned. Her husband and his brother had gone off investigating rumors of those cursed Dunedain settling on their land. Aye, it was barren, rocky and it had poor soil, but the land was theirs and noe cursed Mand of the West was going to take it from them, not while there were Hillmen to defend it. They had their own land, those men of Gondor; they could leave these rocky hills alone.

Her son, Flint, came running into the hut, crying because some of the bigger boys in the village had pushed him down again. “Mama, Mama,” he whimpered. “They pusheded me down again.”

“So push them back or stay indoors,” she retorted. This was too much. So what if he was smaller than they were; he had to learn to stand up for himself and learn not to come running to her every time he had a problem. He’d never get any respect that way, and if he wanted to ever be someone important, he’d have to earn the respect of the other boys, starting now. So Kestrel pushed her son to be strong, so that someday, when she was old, and her husband could no longer hunt for her, Flint could take care of his mother.

The tot sniffled a few more times, then ran out again, saying defiantly, “I’ll push 'em real hard, Mama!”

Kestrel nodded, proud that her son would prove his strength this early. Even if he was only two. She turned to her daughter, who was sitting in the corner of the squalid little hut, attempting to weave a rush basket. And Rain was going about in entirely the wrong way.

“No, no, no!” she scolded. “You do it like this.” Rain had to make a good match for them. There was no way that her daughter would ever be dependant on charity. She had to be a perfect wife and make her mother proud. Kestrel was going to have enough to do just dealing with Flint. Rain would have to get a good man, or at least a man who could take care of her, and that would have to be enough for her. Her mother wouldn’t be able to.
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"I hate dignity," cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air and then trying to catch it as it fell. "Half the fools and all the wise folks are dignified, and I'm neither the one nor the other." --L. Frank Baum
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