The Progress of a Pretty-maid
Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
11 Lairë in the Reckoning of Imladris
I have been recently engaged in yet another line of research here at The Lair. Not for esoteric lore or near-forgotten tongues, of course; but observing and making notations on my new family. For dear Cutch and I are parents; even at this writing, that fact astounds me. I, the bitter and angry child of the ages, now have a child of my own. I, who have scorned Mortals all my adult life, now have a husband and daughter of that heritage. And such a daughter! Sweet Bainiel appears to favor her Elvish heritage in many ways, and her Mortal heritage in others; and the contrast between these becomes blended in a stew of wonder and mirth.
Bainiel’s growth is astonishingly swift. Not even months after her birth, she is already not just walking, but running! I shall not forget the day Cutch called out to me, and I entered the Gallery to the sight of Bainiel tottering towards me across the room, her face a study of concentration and glee. As I knelt and held my arms out to her, her face then became transported delight as she rushed to my embrace.
Bainiel’s curiosity is also manifesting rapidly. I have noticed that while she prefers my breast for feeding, she watches anyone and everyone as they eat and drink and reaches out in her infant ways to learn what it is we do. One day I discreetly watched Cutch with her in the Salon; he was playing with her while enjoying a glass of milk and a slice of pie and saw how she was looking at his face as he drank. He then sat her on his lap, held the cup to her lips and watched as she slurped away, trying to copy Cutch!
I confess that the sounds of a family are a little disconcerting to my ears; having avoided the presence of children most of my life, this new reality requires massive adjustment. The sound of Bainiel’s delighted squeals as she runs about the halls does have the benefit of knowing her whereabouts at any time, though what she is delighted about can be alarming. I had to gently admonish Cutch about the state of the Scullery, after the child’s exploration overturned a platter he was using to prepare a meal. The sounds of metal plates and cutlery striking the floor followed by a shrill cry brought both of us running, only to see it was the sound that startled her.
I do want to record something that is more disconcerting than just the antics of a toddling child; and that is what things might manifest in Bainiel’s personality later. Just recently a thunderstorm of strength swept over the valley of the Lhûn, dropping great rains and hurling its wrath against the hills. As the lightning lanced down around us and the thunder crashed against the windowpanes, Bainiel showed no fright or terror at the noise and flash; rather, she toddled over to a window and stood there, watching the grounds outside as the storm’s fury swirled round us.
But the look on her face – wide-eyed and awestruck, gazing at the most inspiring thing she had ever seen. All during the storm’s dance we stood there, feeling the wrath of the airs, and the child showing no fear – no, I correct myself. What I saw in her eyes was longing…
