Daughter of Arnor - Servant of Fate

Chapter Two: The Visitor

"Your offer is very kind and noble, yet it seems cruel to lock my daughter away in a tower," - Beren.

30th July/ Cerveth T.A 3004 The Village of Duincar

Naerien watched enviously as Labes sat down to supper with her family at the other end of the Hall. If only Beren would give up his life in the wilds and remain in the village. Not that Tolben had much of a choice after losing an arm. Anberenien would not be a child forever and he had already missed so much of her growing. Perhaps if he were home more often, Anberenien would get into less trouble.

Naerien had tried to raise her to be the lady Beren wanted her to be. She had taught Anberenien more genteel skills such as sewing and embroidery, but the child showed little aptitude or interest in such things. But she had mastered the runes very quickly and now that she was seven, Naerien would introduce Sindarin as her mother had done.

Anberenien and her grandmother shared a special bond between them that Naerien could only dream of. After all her longings, she finally had a child. But from the moment she looked into her daughter's newborn eyes, she knew Anberenien was not truly hers. Whilst her daughter was the image of her father, she shared no traits with Naerien herself. She glanced at the letter again."A daughter is a blessing to her mother and a gift to her father, a gift he is likely to give away, I fear," she whispered to herself.

Daylight was fading now and Labes finished her supper and lit the lamps and candles around the hall. Naerien rose from the bench and went to the entrance of the Hall. She watched her mother teaching Anberenien blade drills with her sticks, smiled and waved. But her eyes gave away her concerns. "She is not truly my own. A mother knows such things."

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Later that evening, Lord Beren turned off the Great East Road into the woods as he rode homeward. It was raining now and he could hear the soft rumble of distant thunder. Beren was weary, but his spirits were high. He looked forward to a few warm nights in Naerien's arms and playing with Anberenien in the river shallows. Having arrived home early, after leaving his companions at the last encampment. He was sure no one had followed him off the road, but could not shake off the thought that he was being watched.

Beren stopped his horse and gripped the pommel of his sword as he looked about him. Feeling a little foolish, he called out. "Who goes there?" A flash of white caught his eye and the unmistakable figure of Saruman appeared out of the gloom.

"Greetings, my Lord Saruman!" Beren called out in surprise.

Saruman smiled thinly. "Apologies, Lord Beren. I did not mean to startle you."

"What brings you this far north? Are you holding a White Council at Rivendell?"

Saruman shook his head. "Oh no, there is no reason for such a gathering. I am meeting a trader with a pipeweed shipment for me."

Beren tapped his belt pack. "I did not know you smoked."

"I do on occasion, but only the better varieties," replied Saruman.

Beren looked up at the sky through the trees, "Well, it is not a night to be outside and Duincar is not far. You are welcome to take shelter with us."

The Wizard smiled. "That is a most generous offer, and one I most humbly accept."

Beren dismounted and the two of them walked together through the woods till they reached the gatehouse of the village. The night watchmen hailed Beren as they passed through the gates. Beren stabled his horse, then the two of them headed for the Great Hall. Inside, the hall was silent, as the entire household was at rest.