"Benjamin! Get yourself in here and sit down and eat your breakfast!" The woman standing over the wood-stove lifted her voice above the sizzling of the pots and pans before her, and the clamor of a lively, summertime farm yard just beyond the open kitchen door.
The black-haired, green-eyed child sitting on the long bench by the table looked up from her plate of rashers and tomatoes. She glanced at the sun-filled doorway to see how quickly her father might obey the order. Beside her was a boy of duller hair and darker eyes, a little taller than she. He followed her attention, then turned to her with a smirk, and nudged her arm with his elbow. "See how fast he runs, let's count!"
Together, the children held each others' eyes and muttered softly, "One...two...three..."
"Coming! Coming!" bellowed a deep voice from outside. Heavy, hasty footsteps pounded up to the house and then stomped through the doorway. The man was tall and broad like a tree, with features like that of the boy. Only his face was beginning to crease with age, and a few strands of hair around his temples were white. He flashed a warm grin to the two children while he whipped off the mud-and-manure-smeared apron that had covered his front.
The boy elbowed his sister again. "Four! You owe me a penny!"
She giggled and threw her shoulder against his arm. "Nay! Was only to three!"
Beyond them, the man stepped over to his wife, who was far shorter than he, but had the same, plain, mouse-brown hair as most Bree-folk did. Her hips and rump were wide, echoing the births of two children, as well as a skillful hand at hearty, farmstead cooking. But her shoulders and arms were strong, and her waist small enough for her husband to loop his thick hands around her and tug her against himself. "Tha' looks good, Bertha," he said softly to her. "But not as good as you!"
Both children went still and stared at their parents. Their bright, young eyes slid sideways towards each other, and at the same time, they both clapped a hand over their lips.
A mother's ears are notoriously keen, and Bertha did not miss the sudden quiet at the table, even while she flipped a freshly sizzling portion of bacon onto a chipped, clay plate. "Here now!" she scolded, spreading her elbows out to try and dislodge her husband. "Stop that nonsense!" The words might have been sharp, but her tone was light and musical, full of mirth.
"T'ain't nonsense!" boomed Benjamin, though he let go of her portly figure and took a step back, turning to grin wide at the two, snickering figures at the table. "Is it, children?" Their laughter only increased, which spurred the man to point at them and say more loudly. "Is it? Aye? Look at her!" He waved a wide, calloused palm at his wife. "A finer woman, no man in Bree could ask for!"
Bertha turned just enough to brandish her wooden spoon in the air between herself and her husband. "Oh, aye! So fine, she is! With her gray hairs and her wrinkled eyes and dress needing a-patchin'!" There was no anger whatsoever in her face. Only a warm, soft smile for the man beside her.
"Aye!" he growled, swooping in to snag her from the front, now that she was turned away from the hot stove. "She works hard for her family and their land! She's not afraid o' the hot sun nor the harsh cold. Stays up all hours when the little ones are ailin', and patches up her dress before the rooster crows!" He planted a firm kiss on her rosy cheek, making a loud, smacking noise with his lips.
"Off with ya, Benjamin!" the woman cried, laughter rippling under the sound. She swatted him uselessly with the handle of her spoon. The children looked on, but the girl especially, was watching all of this with a particular delight in her moss-colored eyes. Her little feet, which were bare and did not reach the floor, swung to and fro as she soaked in the scene.
Benjamin laughed triumphantly, having declared his admirations, and flustered his wife. He released her again and thumped over to the table while Bertha straightened her own apron and picked up the plate of rashers.
The man leaned down to kiss his son on the crown of his head. "That's how you treat a woman, Emory. If you love her, tell her so, and why! And often!"
Bertha followed shortly after, giving her husband a sidelong grin. "And that's how a man should treat you, Taitey," she said to the wide-eyed little girl. After placing the plate on the table, she stepped round to give her own kiss to her daughter's shining cap of raven hair.
"Aye, Mama," said the girl.
