Recent content by Jenavere

"You will have to share the turkey, you understand," Janera said in the inestimable, dry kind of way that was quintessentially here. "But don't worry, there will be other things. Potatoes or sugarbeets. The last of the wax beans before they go off in the cellar. And if I recall you were somewhat...

"Perhaps," Jenavere conceded. "But if the Orcs had attacked the village where my parents lived, they and everyone there would be dead, because gold and good manners does not protect people when animals attack. Men like you do. The men they think are ne'er-do-well wanderers without prospects."...

Jenavere couldn't help but chuckle throatily at his explanation. It was true, in its way, but also not quite. "These people are my late husband's creatures -- now, my son's -- not mine. Things would have been different from this, to be sure, but I take your point. But you should know that they...

At this a faint smile crossed her prim lips, sardonic. "Do I?" she asked quietly. If she looked at it with clear eyes, she knew why. Arnor was not the type to settle, especially not with a creature such as Jenavere. He was not cut out for quiet village life, for working with her family...

Jenavere twisted her ring even more at his observation that the Orcs would come back. She knew that, deep down, though she had tried not to dwell on it. The best she could do was outfit her men as best she could and trust Ser Greve in their training. Would it be enough? The thought preyed on her...

"Please," Jenavere said, gesturing broadly to the small sitting area by the fireplace; not that waited for her permission or seemed to require it at all. She looked at Ser Greve grimly, a minute shake of her magnificent coppery head silently wondering why he had brought the man when he was not...

Jenavere was standing at the desk when the knock at the door came. She didn't have a moment to steady herself, to smooth her skirt, to do any number of things she might have done if she had had a moment. The impulse betrayed something in her, even to herself. She tried to pass it off like some...

The morning fog lay unnaturally thick over Greymere Hall; Jenavere Calder -- standing at the window of her study on the third floor -- couldn't see to the village of Merewick, only a short walk from her gates. She didn't like it, not when there were orcs apparently marauding in the area. Her...