In The Works

Middle Earth - Daughter of Dale

A Hobbit Fanfiction

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Summary

Thyra had known Bard and his wife Anja her whole life, just as she knew most people in the Dale Quarter of Laketown. So when Anja died in childbirth, she had stepped up to help mind Bard's small children when he set out on the lake, determined to give Sigrid, Bain and Tilda the best life he could. As the years passed, Thyra grew to love his children as her own  and Bard became her dear friend...though her heart began to yearn for something more...

Still, though hard, it was a good life Thyra had.

But danger and despair loom, heralded by prophecy, dwarves...

...and dragonfire. 

A Daughters of Middle Earth Story

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This one rather ambushed me...or rather, Luke Evans (the human equivalent of an ear-worm....) as Bard did. This is why I should never watch movies that have nothing to do with the project I'm working on....because, low and behold, boom. Thyra's in my head and her story is just sort of spilling out. The muse on this one has admittedly begun to slow again, and other stories are starting to beckon so this one may go on hold for a bit. 

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Chapter 1 Excerpt

As it often did, the market bustled with life.

Poor and struggling though it was, it was the one constant in the lake-top town. Regardless of the season and regardless of how bountiful a season it had been, that remained mostly unchanged.

The fishermen ferried in their catch through the toll-gate from the quay built in the ruins of the old city, there to sell in the stretch of market that hemmed the wharves where they moored their boats. What few goods were brought into Lake-town—goods either grown or gathered on the shore or brought in with the few Dorwinion and fewer Rhovanian merchants that still ventured so far north—tended to gather in the market buildings nearest the Bridge Gate. Scattered throughout the rest of the town were trade goods, like collecting with like. Iron-goods were to be found along the canal that housed the smith's quarter and glass-goods near the glass-makers district, while everything from rope and barrels to wood and cloth-goods spilled over from the craftsman's canals where they spidered off from the swathe of ramshackle buildings that had slowly grown together over the years to shelter the heart of the market.

It was beneath the sagging eaves of the main market buildings that Thyra spent most of her days, offering her deft fingers to mending nets for in exchange for coin or fish or whatever else she could barter for near where her cousin Bianca bundled, potted, dried and traded herbs and plants she and other women in the Quarter gathered in the early mornings.

It was hard, dull work, the nets often heavy and ragged and worn near beyond repair. But it was honest work all the same and Thyra had little choice but to make the most of it. Life in the ruins of Esgaroth was hard, especially Dale-bred and widowed as she was.

Today, however, saw Thyra's work eased by Tilda's cheerful chatter and Sigrid's quick fingers. Even Bain had found his way to the market, running from stall to stall in errand, lending his young back to lifting crates and bundles at Bianca's beckoning or whatever other odd job he could find.

"Like this?" Tilda interrupted herself to ask, her eyes bright as she looked between her sister and Thyra, holding up the corner of netting she had been working on. "I didn't miss any spots?"

Reaching over, Thyra scanned a practised eye over the frayed strands the younger girl had been tasked with knotting together, giving Tilda a nod of agreement as she resumed her own weaving. "'Tis neatly done, sweet." Tilda grinned proudly, carefully bundling up her corner of the net and tucking it away. Thyra glanced over to Sigrid. The older girl was near finished her portion as well. "I can finish the rest," she offered, drawing Sigrid's attention. "It's getting late, and your father will be home soon."

Sigrid's brow furrowed gently as she started to object, only to take note of the change in the activity around them. Evening was approaching and, though nightfall came later in the summer months, the bustle of the market was starting to quiet as it always did when day approached its final turn toward nightfall.

"You're sure?" Thyra smiled at Sigrid's concern, nodding.

"Go on," she prompted with a fond smile. "I'll send up your share of what Jepsen gives for this one with Bain. Best have your father's dinner ready for him."

"Yes, Thyra." Smiling in return, Sigrid set her section aside with care and, with a grateful look to Thyra, gestured for Tilda that it was time to go. Pausing only to wrap Thyra in a brief hug, the younger girl readily obeyed, nearly forgetting to grab the basket of fish she had bartered for earlier that day under Thyra's watchful eye.

"As if you won't be heading over there yourself when you're done," Bianca chided lightly from behind Thyra as the girls scurried off, a knowing tilt to her grin as she settled down next to the younger woman and took up the weaving Sigrid had left. "Got to make sure their father made it home safe, haven't ye?" Sorely tempting though it was, Thyra only answered with a neutral hum in place of exasperated words.

There was little Thyra could say to dissuade her, after all.

While her cousin wasn't quite right, neither was she entirely wrong. After spending so many years minding his children both before and after Anja's death while Bard made his living on the Lake, she had come to care for the little family very dearly indeed.

Dear enough that, though Sigrid and Bain were plenty old enough to manage while Bard was gone without Thyra's help, there were few days when Thyra would not at least look in on the three children and their father. Nor was it uncommon anymore for the children to help Thyra in the market as they had today.

Save her cousin Bianca, Thyra had no one else. She was the only surviving child of parents who were gone. Bianca and Bianca's grown son were the only blood she had left, and Ivar had left Esgaroth years before to seek his fortune in the south, joining a merchant company bound for Gondor. They had not seen him since.

There was little true opportunity in Lake-town, anymore.