Himlad, FA 95.
"Ammë, please? May I borrow your helm just for one day?" A young girl, not yet grown to her full stature, stood with begging expression in the armoury, watching as a tall, commanding elleth bundled her auburn braid into her hauberk .
"Nárinya, no. We have gone over this before." Kalormë picked up a steel helm burnished with copper, wrought in the shape of a roaring lion's maw. "You are up early, then. Where are Atto and Moryo?"
"They are making breakfast, as always, Ammë." The child pouted slightly, then turned to her mother with an eager expression in her steely grey eyes. "Oh then, please may I stay and watch you put on your armour? Please, please?"
The tall elleth smiled indulgently, stopping for a moment to ruffle her daughter's unruly hair. "Stand back and watch, then. You will need to learn how to do this quickly, and at a moment's notice, when you are of age to ride with us."
With quick, efficient motions the lady began to arm herself; from the finely wrought steel hauberk of intricately woven chainmail to the plate gloves and pauldrons fastened to her forceful hands and broad shoulders. The girl had retreated into a corner of the armoury, watching her mother with calculating eyes that took in every motion, every click of a buckle, every tightening of a leather strap. Someday, she would be doing this, and it would be her turn to pick up the helm and put on the armour of a warrior. Someday ... but not yet. She frowned to herself, but scampered forwards as soon as the last piece of her mother's armour was in place.
Kalormë set the lion-helm upon her own head, snugly fastening it below her chin. Beneath the wrought visage of the lion, her face shone steely and formidable, thin red lips enclosing a smile which threatened to turn savage at the slightest provocation. But now the lioness knelt to embrace her cub, planting a fond kiss upon the tangles of auburn hair so like her own.
"Ammë is going off on patrol now, and will not be home until noon. Go now and fetch me some food from the kitchen, Nárinya. Remember - I will be asking you how your weapons training with master Sartandil fares, when I return. Go now, child of the Oath, and may you make our people proud."
The girl stood on tiptoe and kissed her mother's face, or what was visible of it under the helm. "I hope you meet lots of orcs, and kill them all. Stay safe, Ammë. " She watched as her mother strode out of the armoury, taking shield and lance from their place on the wall. She stood in the doorway, following her mother's sure steps with keen eyes.
The early morning light streamed over the plain of Lothlann to the north, still green and fruitful. Little Makanáre stood and saluted her mother as she walked away, as she had seen the soldiers do when they stood guard around the Pass of Aglon. Then she turned on her heel and scampered back to the kitchen, eager to begin with her day's training so that she too might one day be a lioness like her mother.
Notes:
Nárinya - Q. "My fire," term of endearment
Ammë - Q. "Mother," familiar
Atto - Q. "Daddy"
Moryo - nickname for Morináro, Makanáre's younger brother
