((  as of 21 Sept., 2010 ))

 Born in Last Halt, a forward staging and supply  hamlet in the Estemnet in the Riddermark, Sabaen's earliest memories are her most cherished: to greet her Da, Sabred, as he returns from a patrol of the eastern borders with a squadron of Marshall of the Eastmark Elfhelm's riders.  Her Ma, Almaen,  holding her out so that her godlike-seeming father can swoop her up and sit her in his lap; like an oven was his warmth combined with that of the stallion rocking them;  his huge arms enfolding her in their gentle power as he kisses her on top of her head.  As the troop rides wearily into the hamlet, the creaking, clanking music the harnesses and weapons make; the smell of the dust and leather the men give off; the sweet smell of horse sweat; the safe rumble of their voices cocooning her as the men joke quietly amongst themselves over some event of the patrol; to be petted and spoiled by her Da's comrades, these weary giants of  men on their great steeds making her feel special.  Then giggling uncontrollably with her younger sister as her towering Da, grinning broadly, and teasing her with: ' Come to me arms me delicate little blossom of Breeland ',  crushes their beautiful, petite Ma in his arms back in the privacy of  their farmstead cottage as she shrieks in comic protest at 'the state of him'.   The whole ritual repeated countless times, never losing its magic.  Until all magic drowned in blood and despair.

From her first sight of Sabred as he stood at his ease in the Meet Hall in Edoras,  young Almaen was lost. 

Her merchant father had finally allowed his willful young jewel of a daughter to be included in his retinue for the journey from his great house in Combe, Breeland,  to Rohan, after weeks and weeks of a mixture of charm and tantrums from her.   Once arrived, she had worked hard subduing waves of boredom mixed with sheer terror as she played the dutiful daughter, smiling constantly and charming his prospective clients, the barbaric seeming horse lords of Rohan.  Not for a moment did she neglect to chastise herself for badgering her father into including her on this business trip.  Until she saw Sabred.

Then the mystical chemistry that is love took hold of her.  From then on Sabred was a man living on borrowed time, as Almaen set her sights upon him.  The young Riddermark was soon overwhelmed by the onslaught of the beautiful, headstrong Breelander.  And he found that he didnt mind it all that much.  Until the time of Almaen's death,  Sabred lived in a state of constant amazement that such a glowing gem should have fallen into his grasp without his even having to do anything to win her.

Despite her father disowning her for 'taking up with an impoverished barbarian and throwing away her birthrite of marriage to a wealthy and cultured Breelander of their own class',  Almaen settled contentedly into life on the eastern plains of Rohan with the man that she loved.  She surprised even herself at how hard she worked to learn the ways of simple survival on the frontier, and the effort she put in to make herself agreeable to her man's comrades.  Not to mention how hard she worked to make Sabred happy, never once allowing him a moment's regret for having been beguiled into loving her.

 The bloom of carefree youth departed Almaen's cheeks as over the next ten years she gave birth to six children, Sabaen the first, then three more girls, and finally twin boys.  Still there was the warmth of love and laughter in the household, but overlaid with  a growing weariness.   As Sabaen grew older she helped her mother more and more in the raisng of her three sisters and , latterly, the twins.  She was concientious and dutiful even at such a young age.

Sabaen was ten summers when the Orcs attacked the hamlet.  Almaen had hidden her brood, with Sabaen in charge, in a well concealed root cellar some distance from their cottage, and then had gone to fight beside her man, and the others.  Despite a grinding and spirited defence they were overrun. 

For two days and nights, Sabaen kept her charges quiet by singing softly, though out of tune,  to them and comforting them.  On the third day, she left Almred, her younger sister, to care for the others and began her search for her parents.  

Sabred, more dead than alive, she found in a bramble filled ditch next to the hewn and smoking pile of bodies which was all that remained of the defenders.  One of the eviscerated corpses bore a patch of cloth similar to that faded Breeland stuff which had made the dress her mother had been wearing.  Thus did Sabaen find her what was left of her mother, Almaen.

The hamlet was in smoking ruins.  The orcs could return at any time.  They had to flee.  Sabaen fashioned a travois from some thin fence poles and leather bindings and she and her siblings- those big enough to lend a hand - dragged their father away from the only home they had ever known. 

Almred knew herbalism and something about tending wounds.  When they were far enough away from the destroyed hamlet she treated Sadred as best she could.  Then they continued their agonizing journey westwards, ever westwards, away from Orckind.  Until they reached the southern-most fringes of Entwood.

Many were the tales of that forbidding place.  How trees moved over the land, speaking to one another, destroying all who trespassed into their domain.  To Sabaen it felt,  from her first exhausted step into the cool halflight beneath the great trees, as if she was  coming home for the first time. 

After the recent horrors, Entwood was a place of sanctuary to her.  No Orc hoard would follow them into Entwood.  Her heart was filled with awe and love for the great, still beings under which they sheltered.  She has not lost this feeling for being in any wildwood since then.

In time Sabaen and her family were found by a passing patrol of Riders, and moved to the nearest settlement.  Sabred, broken in body and spirit, had withdrawn into himself and it was left to Sabaen to try to make arrangements for their future. 

She wrote to her distant Breelander relatives for help.   After almost another year of waiting, during which time Sabaen kept them all alive with her growing hunting skills,  money was sent, passage arranged, and they found themselves in Combe, Breeland. 

Sabaen's wealthy Breeland kin were undisguisedly hostile and cold towards this scruffy band of children, and the broken barbarian, their father, at the first meeting.  And merely tolerant on subsequent ones over the following years.  Her uncle, now head of the merchant family, decided to employ the older girls as farm hands on one of his failed woodland farmsteads. 

The Uncle had only one thought:  these unkempt barbaric children, and even worse... impoverished children,,,  must earn their keep.  But more than that, they must be kept out of sight and not be an embarrassment to his wealthy, cultured family. 

Sabaen and the others went to live in the depths of Chetwood.  And, for the older ones, memories of their lives on the Riddermark plains, and even those of their mother, begin to fade.

In time, Sabaen and the older girls proved so adept at providing for themselves, their broken father and the little'uns, while increasing the yield of that poor steading, that even their uncle had to admit, grudgingly, that it made better business sense for them to take it over,  Finally, they had a home of their own, even if they were mere tenants.

For the next eight years Sabaen acted as father, and Almred mother, to the younger ones, while caring for their father, a mere despondent shadow of his former self,  too.  Their uncle began to appear at the steading more and more in the last year Sabaen was at the farmstead.  He had not failed to notice how Sabaen had grown into the handsome young woman she had over the intervening years.  And that Almred, only sixteen,  had grown into the spitting image of her beautiful mother, his sister.

The uncle was not shy about stating it as his intention, finally,  that the two elder girls should be married off, soon and to his own advantage.  So many business alliances were forged through acts of marriage, afterall. 

He was a large middle aged man, was the uncle.  He considered himself to be as virile and fit as it  befitted a man of his wealthy merchant standing to be.  However, he was no match for the enraged Sabaen when she threw him against the wall of their lowly cottage, took him by the throat, and threatened to gut him then and there if he ever so much as suggested, let alone attempted, anything like  marrying any of them off to those who werent of their choosing.  And at a time of their choosing.  He saw the rational behind her...argument, and never raised the issue again.  In her presence.

From then on Sabaen realized that as long as they were in anyway beholden, or tied, to their uncle and his family, they would be prey to any whim that that family would have concerning their future.  She knew that Almred and her younger sisters, and even the spoiled, doted upon twin brothers,  were able enough to keep the farm and family going without her.   It was time for Sabaen to try to make her way in the world.  Hopefully, a profitable way that would enable them all to buy independence from their Breelander kin.

And so...we find Sabaen out in the great world, alone, turning her hand to anything which can bring her coin.  Honing her skills and craft so that she can bring in even more coin.  Earning coppers and silver to send to her family, and  putting the rest aside to save for a home they can call their own.  Living simply and contentedly amidst the great trees she loves so.  Keeping to herself, most times, except for an occasional evening in a tavern, just so she can be reminded what the sound of the laughter of others is like.