[Undómë]

Brenna


Brenna worked at combing out the girl’s hair. Gwenith, and she was aptly named as her long light blond hair was just the color of ripened wheat stalks about to be harvested, scrunched her shoulders and tried not to cry out when the teeth of the comb snagged a tangle.

‘Hold still, Gwenni!’ Brenna said in a firm voice. ‘I’ve just about got the last of the rats’ nests undone. I’ll put it in a braid for you, then, and that should keep it neat and pretty, even when you sleep on it.’ Though who knew if their would be sleep for any of them this night the old woman thought.

‘Alright!’ the girl hissed through clenched teeth. She hunkered down, prepared to be brave until the battle of the tangles was done.

‘Have you heard what the men are discussing, Granny Brenna?’ Nia asked quietly, coming to sit down near where Brenna was working. Brenna shook her head ‘no’, knowing that Nia was a clever young woman who never seemed to miss what changes were brought on the breezes of camp gossip. ‘That Khamir has the idea to take a number of men and go after the ones who stole the children. But that one called Hadith has stood up and says we should prepare to fight here. He’s sure those slavers will come back to take more of us. And we should be ready for them. Not only that, but there should be enough men here to protect those not able to defend themselves.’ She looked expectantly at Brenna.

‘So, what do you think, Granny?’ another of the women asked, raising up from her bed on the ground to rest her head on her hand. ‘Are we supposed to bunch together behind the men or hide away if we can until it’s all over?’

Brenna braided the last of Gwenith’s hair and bound it securely with a strip of old cloth. ‘I don’t think we can do that, dearies,’ she answered, patting the girl on the shoulder as she did so for a job well done. ‘They’ll mow the men down like hay and take us anyway.’ She cackled a little, a grim note to it. ‘’Cept for me, of course. I’m too old. But they’ll be wanting all of you. And you know that, don’t you?’

The women drew nearer, nodding their heads with the cruel knowledge. ‘So what shall we do?’ Nia shivered, dreading the answer she already knew. ‘The sticks…the ones you had us gather as we traveled along; the ones we sharpened. You said they’d be good for planting sticks when we get to our new home.’

‘Yes, those sticks,’ Brenna said, looking thoughtfully at the ground. ‘And they will be good for planting our seeds. But,’ and this time she looked round the small circle of women, ‘first we’ll plant them deep as we can into those slavers’ horses and the men as ride them too. Blood the wood and kill the ones who want to drag us back to the plantations and the old life. Who will do this with me? And live to see our own crops grow in our own soil?’

There were murmurs of assent that swirled about the little group. And those who were fearful were made stronger with the promise that they would not stand alone, but that one or two of their companions would stand alongside them.

Gwenni stood up and raised her voice in a plaintive manner. She was a slight little wisp of a thing, just turned eleven summers this last spring, or so she thought as far as she could reckon. ‘What about us, Granny Brenna . . . us girls? Our planting sticks are way too short. Those slaver-men have longer arms than us . . . and . . .’

Brenna tugged on the girl’s braid and smiled up at her. ‘You got them sharp stones don’t you? The black ones from along the glassy-bedded stream.’ Gwenni nodded her head, her face lighting up as her hand dipped into the tattered pocket of her breeches. She fetched out the cloth bag she’d fashioned from the sleeve of some old tunic. And with a smile drew out the well-used leather sling she used for hunting little animals and lizards. Others of the younger girls had gathered near Gwenni, their soft voices excited with the discovery that they, too, could lend their hands against the bad men.

‘Keep your sticks and slings handy, my friends,’ Brenna told the small group. ‘And why don’t we all just get what rest we can. We’ll sleep together here.’ She looked about the group. ‘And one of us should keep watch for a while, then wake me and I’ll take over for the next bit. Nia, can you do that? Sun’s rise can’t be that far away.’

She motioned for the women and girls to lay out their cloaks or blankets, their sticks and slings close beside them. Nia moved to a small rocky outcropping and hunkered down on the stony surface to take up the watch.