Fields and Forests

[Wamba_the_Fool]

Reposting OP:

---

FIELDS & FORESTS OF ROHAN

~ where now is Azultur the Rider? Where is @Widfara with her long hair flowing? ~

Sauron is vanquished and summer finds the land of the Eorlingas once more: The Riddermark with its rolling fields and pastures; rivers and meads; glowering mountains and forests (filled with boar and badgers) is yours to explore.

Lands long untended on the borders of the Kingdom are ripe for resettlement; the roads to realms beyond Anduin, the Limlight, Mering, Adorn and Isen beckon.

Where will your trusty steed take you? Who might you meet on your travels?

Maps to help plan your expedition ~
http://www.ajpsauk.com/geographicrohan/ ... gindex.htm

Threadiquette:

This Thread is open to all Kingdoms and Races.

All Plaza Rules Apply

Don’t post in RED, I’ll be using this for updates as the thread moves along.

Indicate your location at the top of your post.

If you’re travelling with others, a band of NPCs, mayhap, mention them too.

Allow two people to post, or 24 hours, before making your next submission.

Posts of 400+ characters are encouraged.

Be creative – entertain us!

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

OOC @Wamba_the_Fool
{Thanks for the carry over, Sai-Fool. I'm never awake enough to spot the upcoming page regen... Bonus is you beat @Allafyrefleorhtlig to the draw }

[Wamba_the_Fool]

((OOC @Aodh Hammerhelm : You're welcome; I'm trying to get better at catching it, myself. Work in progress. Enjoy, sai! ))

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm
Escaping a burning building

As Zarâm stood there looking at Allaccan, time seemed to pass very slowly and almost magically, until Allacan pulled out the knife. For a moment, she pointed it aggressively towards Silendris and then she pointed it towards her own breast. Zarâm didn’t know what came over her, but she lunged towards the woman, knocking the knife out of her hand and the both of them to the floor. Unbeknownst to her, while attempting to save the rohir-minion’s life (after such a speech, Zarâm was even more confused about this strange woman’s loyalties), she had knocked her makeshift lantern to the floor on the other side of the bar. It fell to the ground with a resounding shatter and the flame touched the alcohol that had spilled out onto the floor.

Allacan stared up into her face in a rather surprised and confused expression. But there was no time to think or talk. The flames had reached a wooded casket containing some type of alcohol and the fire became all the more ferocious, leaping up from behind the bar to engulf the aging wood in flame. Zarâm reached up and in one swift movement, knocked as many of the wonderful torture tools onto the ground, and stuffed as many as she could into Allacan’s bag, which was still on this side of the bar.

The flames were getting hotter and she could feel the heat on her back. Allacan still lay where she had fallen, oblivious to the destruction that was filling the abandoned pub. Zarâm took a break from gathering weapons to risk a quick glance around the pub. Frost had apparently regained some amount of consciousness and strength, grabbed Silendris, Taeth, and Zôr, and shoved them out of the door. For a brief second, the two of them stared into each other’s matching eyes. The Númenórean looked at her in something that resembled confusion or disappointment, Zarâm wasn’t sure which, and at the moment, it didn’t matter. For the second time today, there was a huge fire, which excited her, but it wasn’t a planned one, which meant they didn’t have their escape route figured out. Frost disappeared from her line of sight as he exited out of the room, which was fast filling with smoke and flame.

Throwing the bag of weaponry onto her back, Zarâm stood up and was about to leave, when she looked down at the still stunned Allacan. This mysterious woman certainly had a history with the Black Lands, and while minions were notorious for leaving others behind, this woman was too intriguing to leave. Cursing her luck, Zarâm heaved the bag onto her shoulder, bent over, and picked up the woman. Despite the way the woman carried herself, and her strength as an obvious warrior, she was not overly heavy and Zarâm could easily carry her in her arms. Just as she picked her up, a beam fell down from the ceiling as in the few moments she had been distracted, the fire had crept up the wall and had reached the roof. It would not be long now before the ceiling caved in on itself.

The fire had spread and was licking at nearly all the walls by this point. Zarâm could just make out a path to the door. Unlike the majority of the individuals in the pub, the smoke was not overly bothersome. Orc lungs tended to be a bit more accustomed to breathing in smoke and ash, so a little house-fire was nothing to worry about, at least inhalation wise. But, it would not be wise for Allacan to stay in the pub much longer, especially considering her dazed state.

For a brief second, Zarâm wondered where Thali and Orco were as she thought they had been close to Frost’s corner, but she hadn’t seen them shoved out by him. But, she trusted them to get themselves out. Orco was an orc after all and Thali, well, she was a resourceful creature.

Zarâm briskly walked towards the door, holding Allacan in her arms, as the flames quickly began to make its way towards the empty spaces left in the pub. The woman’s head lolled against her chest. Apparently the tackle had been harder than she had planned and the woman wasn't entire cognitive at the moment. It wouldn’t be long before the whole thing was completely filled with fire. She dashed out of the exit as the flames followed her. At the last moment, Zarâm thought she heard the sound of a glass window exploding from the heat. That would at least provide an alternative exit if Thali was still in the pub.

Upon arrival outside, Zarâm saw Frost lying on the ground, Zôr standing over him, looking thoroughly annoyed about something. While she desired to head in their direction, she had a feeling that neither of them exactly wanted to see her at the moment. It might be best to wait until she had interrogated Allacan to find out what she woman was up to and why she appeared to be both Rohir and minion.

There was a small patch of trees a short ways off. It would be far enough from the fire that they should be hidden from the rest of the group to take care of whatever business was necessary, but close enough they could rejoin the group if necessary. And it was empty, or at least so she thought. After she settled the woman, who was still conscious, but clearly somewhat out of it, onto the ground, Zarâm turned around and looked back at the fire. It was a delightful bright light against the darkening night. As she watched, it burned brighter and brighter. If something didn't happen soon to slow the flames, more buildings would be in danger.

At last, she turned and looked at the woman lying on the ground before her. The bundle of weapons made several clanging sounds as she dropped it down. Zarâm stared down at Allacan, who was slowly beginning to become more aware (likely thanks to the absence of smoke) and asked , “Are you a minion or a Rohir?” The woman clearly had some status in Edoras due to her position in the Campain, but at the same time, had clearly made a rather impassioned speech about chaos and allusions towards coups within Rohan. But where were her loyalties? And why was she so interested in getting to know this woman? Why had she bothered to rescue her when any other sane Mordorian wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving the hindrance behind? Zarâm stood, hands on her hips and her eyes on the bag of weapons, wondering if she should be holding the saw, just in case. She might have prevented Allacan from taking her own life, but she was prepared to finish the favor if necessary – especially if the woman was a threat to the Black Land.

(Like Frost, Zarâm is ignoring the songs, though perhaps she noticed something strange going on. I also added the fire spreading to an adjacent building like we discussed)
OOC @Gwai: (Per the discord conversation, Zarâm has carried @Allafyrefleorhtlig out and to the same grove you are. Feel free to listen in on whatever sort of conversation/interrogation we have)

[Allacan ob Burzum]

@Wamba_the_Fool @Aodh Hammerhelm sings “...but all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you...” I guess I need more practice at my quick-draw skills!

Heads up to @Dwarrow Elf, @Thalionwen Hunigfolm, @merSILess, @Shivased, @Tarawen and @Moriel. In case you missed it on Discord, I’m hoping to wrap up our little plot line here early next week so we can open up a fire-fighting thread and invite in other players in to tidy up our mess so Edoras doesn’t get too badly scorched. We can move any outstanding conversation/escaping either there or to LITM (or hand wave it happening off screen if people want to tie off their involvement) so that this thread can be fully returned to its originally intended purpose. I wanted to give you all fair warning so you didn’t miss the chance to resolve your involved characters. And once again, many thanks to @Aodh Hammerhelm for letting us borrow his thread for our chaotic gathering and faux-arson.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Anduin, above the Undeeps: with NPC Ringbold Took & Ælfred the One-Eyed

The arrival of Ælfred lifted a weight from Aodh’s shoulders. He could not be in two places at once, he’d said to Eléowyn and Ringo, and now, at least, there was not a third path for him to consider.

Goldwhæt was out of their reckoning for the time being, he did not need Ælfred to tell him this, for he’d known the old wigend long enough to read him like a book. If their wayward friend was in danger Ælfred would not have returned to them, nor would he have taken the time to gather timber for Nadene’s litter. He would have followed Goldwhæt’s trial until he found him, dead or alive, and would certainly not be here now dining on Eléo’s camp-fare.

Aodh looked up as his wife placed a fresh bowl of stew into his hands. She was gone before he could thank or stay her. He had no heart for seconds (his belly was full and his mind sharpened) though he fancied Ringo would be partial to thirds. He stood, set his bowl down between the hobbit and Ælfred, and made his way to the picketed horses.

Eléowyn was busy untying the leather straps Ælfred had used to secure his finds, Goldwhæt’s horse whinnied as Aodh approached. “Those look heavy, déor,” Aodh said, taking the mount’s reins. “Let me prop the bundles while you undo the knots.”

He ruffled the horse’s mane, stepped forward and set his shoulder under the rough poles laid over the beast’s back. As the leather thongs gave way, he hefted the load and made his way towards Nadene’s shrouded body.

“We have not the tools or time for anything of finess,” he said to Eléo, as he hunkered. “But we should be able make a litter that will last the road to Nadene’s stead. The trees Ælfred has felled are young and supple, they should be easy enough to shape to our purpose, and we have leather cord, tarp and blankets aplenty…”

Aodh took Eléo's hands in his:

“I’m going to get send Ælfred south with Ringbold, he knows the Emnet and Eastfold well and can get our holbytla to a hæland faster than you or I. We shall travel together to Nadene’s stead, it seems fitting that those who knew her well, before her end, should see her home.

As for Goldwhæt, it pains me to say it, but he is no longer our concern. He must deal with his grief, or succumb to it; there is nought we can do to aid him, he must return to us of his own accord.”
---
@Eléowyn

[Shivased]

NPC: Beaducyrm
Ghost Horsey

Beaducyrm eventually got bored of snuffling around the two sitting together for honey and turned to wander around the pub. He headed towards the bar area where she was and pricked his ears at the sight of a weapon. She was in danger! He wanted to help, to protect her, but he didn't know how. He was beginning to understand that he was a ghost, and that he couldn't...touch...things like he had been able to in life. At least not completely, and he couldn't really control it. Sometimes he went through things, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes it was half and half.

He stomped his hoof and snorted and was about to charge the one that was attacking his rider, when all hell broke loose. Flames burst from a knocked over makeshift lantern, snaking along the dry floorboards and rushing through the pub with surprising speed. They passed right under his hooves, surrounding where he was standing. He reared and let out a shrill whinny that echoed around the pub, his instinctual fear of fire taking over. Landing back on all fours with a thud he shuffled nervously, unable to get himself out of the flames. It took a minute before his rational, cavalry-trained mind took over and he realized that the flames weren't hurting him, his panicked breathing wasn't full of smoke, and he couldn't feel any of the heat. He stopped moving, his hooves stilling in their frantic dancing, and looked around. He was safe. It couldn't hurt him.

Immediately his mind went to work and he looked at those around him. He didn't know who they were, though he suspected some were of Mordor and had no good reason to be in Rohan. But he was Cavalry, and had been raised and trained with honour; he couldn't let anyone die in here, where it wasn't even a battlefield. It looked like, though, that none would need rescuing. One had taken her out, and the others were leaving as well. He wasn't needed in here, and he wasn't willing to stay in case this new immunity to flames ended. Tossing his head and preparing himself he headed the same way the others had gone, his head low and moving quickly.

Bursting out of the inn he slid to a halt in the dirt and shook his mane, then turned to look back in shock at the pub, which was now in flames. It wasn't the first time he'd seen this building burning, but it was the first time he'd been in it while the burning was happening. He shook his head again and looked around, noting everyone outside and her with them. She looked ok, he decided. Not perfect, but ok. He needed to get her home.

He was taking a step towards her when a quiet, hoarse call and coughing caught his sensitive ears. His head whipped around and his keen eyes picked up a figure in the bushes (Gwai). It was one of the Cavalry, he remembered her! It was one of her comrades! He hesitated, looking between her and the Cavalry rider, wavering with indecision. He had come because she had called, but this other one needed help!

He gave one last look at her and nickered a low, wistful nicker, full of regret and longing, before turning and heading towards the one in the bushes (Gwai). He reached her in a few quick steps and bent his head down to nudge at her shoulder gently, putting as much concentration into it that he could so that he actually connected with her instead of going through. He could help her get wherever she needed to go.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan, human, she/her, dazed, being carried out of the tavern by Zarâm

She remained dazed for a while, the smoke entering her lungs only hindering her brain from getting the oxygen it needed to start thinking cohesively again. Afterwards she would have no recollection of how the tavern had gone up in flames, or how she (or anyone else for that matter) had gotten out of the burning building alive. She only really became aware of her surroundings when she found herself on the cold, soft ground, trees overhead and a woman looming over her in the dark. The clanging noise of weapons being deposited made her jump and she instinctively snatched for one defensively, only for the figure above to immediately move to intercede, moving much quicker than the sluggish prone form still reeling from the smoke and blow to the head.

They tussled for a moment in the dirt, wrestling for control of the weapon, but Allacan was easily overpowered by the stronger Zarâm, which says something for the orc-woman's strength given that Allacan (who had only singlehandedly lifted and carried the muscled and tall Frost from the Campian arena only earlier that day) was something of a powerhouse among Rohir. Sensing she was outmatched, Allacan conceded and withdrew from the weapon pile, moving a pace or so back to regard the woman who now stood over her with hands on hips, regarding her even as she considered the orc in return.

“Are you a minion or a Rohir?” she asked.

"YES!" snarled Allacan in the manner of a wild thing, leaping to her feet, her senses returning to her and her wariness recovered with them. Whatever spell this woman had put on her in the tavern still echoed in her head, but she was afraid and - never one to show fear outwardly - she resorted to defending herself with aggression. "But I am tired of being manipulated in the games of others. I am tired of being *torn* between both Mordor and Rohan! I'm a rope in an endless tug-of-war between by two loyalties, and it is fraying my sanity! It is destroying me!" her voice was losing some of its aggression, and there was a hint of desperation and hopelessness now. "I don't know how to do this! How to be part of both worlds, how to consolidate both loyalties, because I have tried, I have *tried so hard* to subdue one or the other and it does not *work*. I thought... I thought maybe I could be a part of both simultaneously, balance the battle between the two so that I could be loyal to them both. Give both nations the benefit of the other's servant. But then Cuthbert; he drew forth the fury of both the Rohir and the Mordorian and united them for the first time, but since then they have been raging a war inside me for dominance. I honestly thought the only option left for me was to take my life, the only path I could see to protect my legacy and avoid either one or both of the nations I am loyal to suffering is to remove me from the equation. But then you...!"

Her words died off, echoing once again the awe and wonder she had felt in that moment as Zarâm the orc had done the unimaginable, and had rugby-tackled her away from the blade and... "You saved my life. Why?!"

Before Zarâm could respond they were both momentarily distracted by the sound of Taeth shouting orders to the cavalry soldiers who were responding to the fire. They could now hear the alarm bells ringing out across Edoras, raising the Rohir from their beds and their homes to come join the fire-fighting effort. It would be only moments before this entire area would be swarming with people. Before Zarâm could turn back Allacan had already snatched up her bag containing the large proportion of her torture gear, the remnants of Cuthbert's interrogation tools and her Rohir clothes, and sprinted away into the night, Caddrick's precariously balanced saw tumbling out of her backpack and onto the floor in her wake. She was oblivious to the fact she fled not only her friends, her comrades and the heroine who might actually be the key to her finding peace between her two fractured halves, but also the ghost of her beloved Beaducyrm who had been stood only feet away from her in the trees with Gwai.

[Eléowyn]

Anduin, above the Undeeps

The leather straps binding the saplings across the horse’s back were securely tied, and Eléowyn’s fingers could not seem to shake them loose. The day’s events (had it only been this very morning they had struggled at the tafelberg’s summit?) had left her drained, mentally more than physically. Her mind danced from the joy of being reunited with her husband to the sorrow of Nadene’s death to thoughts of what they still could face before returning to Edoras. She was frustrated with her own inability to focus on the task at hand and had to resist the urge to kick at the sand beneath her feet and curse loudly. Wulf, who was now lying near her in a drowsy, satisfied half-sleep, lifted his head to see what was causing his lady distress.

Beads of sweat were beginning to drip into her eyes, and she drew the back of her hand across her brow. Taking a deep breath, she shook both hands as if to free them from whatever mental block had made them useless, then began anew to work at the binding thongs.

They began to yield at last, and just as the timbers began to wobble Aodh appeared to balance them on his shoulder while she finished unknotting the ties. How does he know? she wondered. He always seems to know what I need before I know it myself.

With the trees safely deposited where they could begin the assembly of the litter, Eléo listened to Aodh’s plan for the splitting of their company. His hand on hers was warm and reassuring, and she felt her earlier mood melt away.

Their journey to Nadene’s homestead would be slowed considerably, with the litter being dragged behind. But the plan made perfect sense. One thing only bothered her.

“It is not right,” she said, “that Rusty should not accompany his wife on her final journey. Nor likely even be there to honor her as she is laid in the ground.” Her use of the name she had first known Goldwhæt by was not unintentional. Her voice grew angrier. “I thought he had changed, that he could be counted on when needed. He dishonors Nadene with his brashness.”

She thought she perceived the slightest tightening of Aodh’s hand on hers. Looking into his eyes, her heart softened. “I should not judge,” she said, quietly again now. “Grief is borne differently by each person. Still, I fear he will some day greatly regret it if he does not make his way home before our arrival.”

Reluctantly she let go of Aodh’s hand, but not before lifting it to her lips for a kiss. “The day is not growing younger, so I suppose we should get that litter put together and see Ælfred and Ringo on their way. He will be fine, I think, Ringo, that is. I have kept an eye on the wound, and he seems to be in no distress. Still, they should seek a haelend to make sure. I will give Ælfred instructions on how to keep the wound clean and bandaged.”

In that moment, the thought of working side by side with her husband to construct the litter made her happier than she had been in a long time,, despite the cause for their task.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris, Confused As Usual, But Not On Fire: Being Hauled Out Of Abandoned Building

Silendris’ eyes were starting to glaze over as Allacan monologued. It had been too long a day for Silendris’ attention span - never long at its best (Naokis had barely been able to make it through one of his own Mophead Plays, and Silendra was usually focused keenly on the next person to kill or drink to drink and very little else) - and they frankly didn’t care about Allacan’s tortured feelings: only whether the woman could be of use.

Perhaps this was why Silendris was slow to react as Allacan pulled a blade - or perhaps they only mistook the gleam of the knife for an errant sequin, caught by the light as someone lit a flame behind to illumine the scene.

“Now; you know there’s no point stabbing us, we’ll simply steal another body,” Silendris was at the point of saying - Naokis’ flesh was fun enough to wear, but the previous incumbent kept inserting himself into situations - when Allacan flipped the knife on herself and was promptly tackled. Silendris blinked in slow astonishment as Allacan’s legs waved wildly in the air.

Things started to happen quite quickly after that.

There was the smell of burnt hay as the heat began to rise. Before Silendris quite knew what was happening Frost had heaved them in the direction of the door. “Well, darling, this is sort of an over-reac - ach chrrr,” they choked in surprise as they were flung from the building. Had Frost been working out? Silendris regretted the design of their one piece at this point - one simply couldn’t pull a jumpsuit over one’s face without ripping it right off, and dramatic as that might’ve been, they didn’t think Naokis’ pecs were quite as in form as that of their rescuers.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Anduin, above the Undeeps: with NPC Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

He'd been here before, Aodh realised, preparing the departed for transport home and an injured hobbit in his charge. He'd placed Ringbold's dead wife on a bier in the shade of the Chetwood, while Goldwhaet consoled the anguished hobbit; now here he was making a litter for Rusty's heart of hearts, but his friend was not there to take solace from the hobbit.

Eléo was right in some measure, of course she was. Goldwhæt should be here, but Aodh did not contest or support her scorn and anger. He slipped his hands from his wife’s, kept his counsel and busied himself with the construction of a rough frame for the litter.

Every man and woman needed a foundation to set themselves upon, the path of life was both joyous and perilous, and not one to be walked alone. He could vouch for that as a surety. Had not his own life and his remorseless quest been meaningless until he met Eléowyn? Aye, indeed!

Goldwhæt's love too had been long in the finding, he’d travelled the bitter, bloody road with Aodh, and at its end found Nadene, his redeemer. And then, in a heart beat, she'd been snatched away. If the murder of a beloved made the heart quail; being powerless to prevent it might well break a man.

"Aye, léof," he said at last, taking a leather thong from Eléo's hand and tying the last stay across the bier’s frame. "Do not judge our friend while your own grief chafes at you, pity him rather. Goldwhæt... Rusty, is true and noble of heart, but flawed. Mayhap hindsight, and your own brief span ‘twixt two realities, will help you understand his actions and in time pardon him even?”

“You have the litter ready, well done!”

Aodh looked up and found Ringbold standing beside Nadene’s body. The hobbit leaned on a crutch Ælfred had shaped from a length of pine and wore a bright ‘kerchief on his head against the midday sun. To Aodh’s eye his friend looked like the smallest corsair ever to have walked Middle-earth.

“Aye, indeed,” Aodh replied. “Work goes quickly when a fair hand is leant to help it - I’d still be struggling away if not for Eléo.”

“Well we’re almost set to go,” Ringo said. “Ælf’ and I have not shirked duty while you laboured. We have cleaned and cleared the camp, tended and fed the horses…

Are you set on me leaving? Do I really have to see a healer? You know I would dearly like to travel with you and say a proper goodbye to Nadene; it seems the right thing to do if Goldwhæt is not with us…”

The hobbit broke off, held his friends’ eyes in turn, and shrugged his shoulders: “Of course I must… see a healer, I mean. I will see you both soon, I hope and in happier circumstances. Go carefully while I’m away and don’t, whatever you do, do anything I wouldn't!”

Ringbold turned away quickly, wiped a tear from his eye, and took Ælfred’s arm.

“Would you have me help move the lady, lord?” the old wigend asked.

“Nay, Ælfred,” Aodh said. “Eléowyn and I shall see to her. Off with you now, the day is already shortening. If we do not find you first in the Eastfold, look for us in Edoras."

Ælfred snapped a salute and led Ringbold to the picketed horses. He lifted the hobbit onto Sandy’s back and made ready to mount his own steed. An earnest conversation took place between the pair, then the wigend hurried back to his captain.

“Master Ringbold said you should have this, he found it in the Shire of all places!”

Ælfred set a small silver box in Aodh’s palm, turned on heel and hurried away. Ringbold waved as the pair cantered off across the plain. Aodh watched his friends' progress until they were mere dots in the distance, then turned his eyes upon the trinket in his hand.

--
@Eléowyn

[Allacan ob Burzum]

FINAL UPDATE

As many flee the site of the inferno that has erupted around the old Aethelmund Tavern, the warning bells sound the alarm as cries ring out in the night. The cavalry swiftly close in on the scene and Taethowen directs them toward keeping the fire contained, but just as she does a swift wind blows in from the North and begins to fan the flames to new heights, threatening to spread them to the nearby Campian halls and the Cavalry Courtyard beyond All those involved in the private RP up until this point can feel free to post your reactions to the fire starting and escaping from the burning tavern, as well as continuing your private interactions elsewhere as you please.

However for anyone engaging in the fire-fighting efforts, for the sake of continuity can I please ask you to continue such narrative in the Edoras Burns thread.

Thank you to everyone for joining me on this wild and complicated ride, and especially thanks again to @Aodh Hammerhelm for letting us use his thread for our narrative.

[Eléowyn]

Anduin, above the Undeeps

They finished constructing the litter with little trouble, Eléo saying nothing as they worked but heeding Aodh’s words carefully. “It is not for me to pardon him,” she replied at last. “He must pardon himself if he is ever to heal his heart. For me, I know I sometimes judge too harshly, and oft I regret the words as soon as they are said. One of my many flaws. I am glad he was not here to hear them.”

Ringbold’s voice interrupted anything further she might have said. Hobbits had such a way of turning up unexpectedly! She found she was, now that the time had come, very reluctant to part with him. Had he pressed the issue, she might have relented and left the company intact, though much against her better judgment. As he turned away, Eléo resisted the urge to rush to him for a hug. It would only make it harder.

Instead, she gave a rushed instruction to Ælfred to keep Ringo’s wound clean and change the bandages as often as possible. Beyond that, there was little else to be done. The hobbit should really keep the foot propped up, but that was hardly practical sitting astride a horse for hours at a time.

She had just lifted her arm to wave them off when Ælfred came rushing back. Eléo watched with curiosity as he placed something shiny in Aodh’s hand, then hurried away again. She too watched their retreating silhouettes grow smaller until they could hardly be distinguished from the tall grass.

The moment was bittersweet. Her heart was heavy at the parting, and the sorrow of Nadene’s death; yet at long last, here they were, just she and Aodh reunited, in time as it should be. There was much to be said between husband and wife; or perhaps little need be said.

“What have you there?” she asked Aodh at last, once their friends were out of sight. “Is it something of importance?”


@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Anduin, above the Undeeps:

Though one burden had been taken from him, Aodh’s heart weighed heavy at the parting of Ringbold and Ælfred. The hobbit at least should have stood alongside him and Eléowyn as they laid Nadene to rest!

“It is, or was,” Aodh said to Eléo. He turned the silver box in his fingers and the elegantly shaped letter, so alike in form to a leaping dolphin, flashed in the sun. “It has its own long tale, one I might tell when we reach Nadene’s homestead. But come, léof, let us tarry here no longer. I’d hoped to reach the Vale of Anduin before nightfall , and we may yet, but the litter will slow our progress.”

Aodh slipped the trinket box into his gunna and set himself above Nadene’s shrouded head and shoulders. He looked over at Eléowyn as she crouched by their dead friend’s feet. He did not need to speak or beckon: as one, as wife and husband, they reached out, took up the swaddled body and placed it gently on the litter.

Aodh rose and gathered the remaining horses. He handed Daesûl and the harrier-mount's reins to Eléo, then led the steed Ælfred had found on the plain into position. She was a docile beast, staying at his command, champing at the grass as he tied the apex poles of the travois securely about her saddle’s horn.

“Are you ready?” he said to Eléo, taking her in a tight embrace. “Let us be done with this place. I shall feel lighter of heart when we've climbed yonder high ground, and found the shade of the forest.”

--

The plain below the Tafelberg: NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

The hill country of the Wold offered the straighter route to the Eastfold, but the broken terrain would have slowed their progress; Ælfred made due south along Anduin’s western shore with Ringbold. Mindful of the hobbit’s injury, and the stamina of their steeds, the old wigend rode at a steady canter. They had miles to ride still, long leagues until they reached Aldburg, and no hope of way-stations or spare horses along the way.

As he rode Ælfred let his mind drift back through previous journeys, he needed no map to tell him were other large settlements lay. Did the family of @Amadhrill, the hælend still tend their 'stead?

After several stops to allow Ringo to dismount and walk off the stiffness in his foot and limbs, Ælfred swung them south-west. Evening was falling, the glowering ridges of the Emyn Muil flushed in the dying light. Onward the old wigend pressed, cutting the distance to Aldburg by a third before they made camp on the lush grasslands of the East Emnet.

--
@Eléowyn @Amadhrill

[Lail]

Lailyn, just before the summer festival (private)
Leaving Lake-town in a hurry and fast-forwarding to the Eastmark

Having had her hand stitched by a rather quick and indelicate healer, bought some provisions with what few coins remained buried in the bottom of her pack which Arna had not found, Lailyn rode with haste away from Lake-town. When the sun reached its zenith, she was already a few miles south and the trees of Mirkwood loomed larger in her eyes. She hoped if she could hug the eastern eaves of the forest and cut across the Brown Lands she would get home as fast as possible.

She finally gave herself permission to weep when she made camp beneath the evening light south of Lake-town. Moving through the motions of brushing down Simbelfarendeu and eating what meager food she had, she felt as if she were in a daze. Her body moved through the actions while her mind was somewhere else, maybe back in Lake-town.

Well. She’d known it was never going to last. She was always going to return home to Rohan eventually, but she hoped they could at least part as friends. Nothing could have prepared her for the way it had ended so suddenly like a knife cutting through a rope that was holding her weight. Now, she was at the bottom of the cliff looking up, looking back, wondering where it was she went wrong. How was it she hadn’t realised the truth? Was she so blinded by what she thought was love to see that it wasn’t that at all?

Finally, she lay down on her threadbare blanket and felt tears pour forth that she was unable to stop. It wasn’t the money. It wasn’t Arna’s threats. It wasn’t even the lies or the guilt. Not now. Now, it was the simple pain of losing someone she cared for. Someone she thought was hers. In her chest, she felt the physical pain of it like a fist closing around her heart. She cried that night under the dark sky with her arms curled beneath her head like a pillow. Simbelfarendeu’s presence at her side was the only thing that comforted her. Tomorrow, she vowed, she would try to start forgetting and move on. For now, she would lick her wounds.

---

In her haste to get home, she found herself lost in the Emyn Muil. The time spent circling around and trying to head west sent both her and Simbelfarendeu to the brink of exhaustion. Only when she crossed Rohan’s eastern border did she realise she would have to lie. It didn’t sit well with someone who valued honesty but how could she possibly tell people what she’d done? How could she look them in the eye after that? She was exhausted, mind and body, and all she wanted to do was go home.

But her progress was slowed to a crawl when Simbelfarendeu began to limp and Lail resigned to walking the rest of the way to lighten her mare’s load. When she paused to rest Simbelfarendeu’s injured foot for the third time that day, she rolled up her sleeve. Her palm seemed to be healing well despite the hasty stitches and she guessed she could remove them now. Even if it was too soon, she didn’t want to explain the injury to a haelend at home. At least the time she’d spent lost in the Emyn Muil hadn’t been a complete waste. It gave the wound time to heal. With her cutlery knife clutched in her opposite hand, she began to cut the stitches out one by one. When she finally reached the stables to have her mare’s injury tended, her own wound was mostly healed. At least on the surface.

[Eléowyn]

Anduin, above the Undeeps

Eléo smiled at the form shaped on the box as Aodh turned it over. Was that a dolphin? She ran her thumb over the ring on her left hand, tracing the outline of the shape there.

Her smile faded quickly as she took her place at Nadene’s feet. With one fluid move, they lifted the body and lowered it onto the waiting litter. Eléowyn still could hardly believe she was dead. Her eyes met Aodh’s as they stood upright, and she was reminded yet again how uncertain life was and how fortunate she was. It seemed at times that life was just a series of chances: what if Aodh had never come into that pub those years ago? What if she had not been in Edoras when Ringbold came seeking her? What if Nadene….

She was grateful for the interruption of Aodh placing the reins in her hands. The horses seemed as eager to be on their way as Aodh and Eléo. They stood patiently but nickered frequently. Eléo whispered to them softly and rubbed each velvety muzzle to calm them.

The wait was short, as Aodh had little trouble securing the litter. “Aye,” she replied, “more than ready. I shall not be unhappy to leave this accursed place behind.”

She handed the harrier-mount’s reins to Aodh, then swung onto Daesûl’s saddle. She followed Aodh as he turned toward the low hills where they would find respite from the sun. She had not the slightest urge to look over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the tafelberg. Her thoughts were now only of the future.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, exiting the fire

Smoke clouded Thali's vision and set her to coughing violently as she exited the inferno which had been the old Aethelmund. She'd seen Orco leaving through the corner of one eye, and knew he'd be gone in moments--the flames were sure to draw Cavalry, and that was their arrangement. At the first sign of trouble that couldn't be fought off, run. Don't wait for each other.

Perhaps not the most sentimental of rules, but it had worked thus far.

Stumbling out into clearer air, Thali caught sight of Taethowen.

"Frost collapsed," her friend informed her, an unaccountable anguish in the words. "He's out front with the...other woman."

Without waiting to hear the rest of Taethowen's words, Thali hurried off automatically, towards the front of the Aethelmund. It was for the best that she had healer's work to do--it always cleared her head, gave her something to focus on. There, across the alley from the burning pub lay Frost, with the Easterling woman, Zor, still standing watch.

"You can go," Thali told Zor quickly. "In fact, you should go. There'll be Cavalry here in a heartbeat. If you need somewhere to lie low, there's an old farmstead on the outskirts of the city--I've set up an infirmary there, and I've got plenty of outbuildings and cellars handy. You're welcome to make use of it if need be."

Glancing over Frost, she assured herself that he was stable enough--his breath too shallow, but steady at least. She suspected he'd broken some ribs at Campian, and likely gained himself a concussion, but none of that could be dealt with here. Gnawing at her lower lip, Thali cast about herself. One street over, a pony stood in a shed, staring out at the flames with wild eyes.

After a moment's hesitation, Thali darted over to the shed. She tore a long, wide strip from the bottom of the black linen dress Taethowen had made for her, and tied it over the pony's eyes, to keep it from spooking at the nearness of the flames. Taking hold of its halter, she led it back to where Frost lay. The creature was well-trained and mild-mannered, and stood while Thali poked and prodded at Frost until he half-woke, enough to lend a minimum of help as she got him up and slung over the pony's broad back.

Then the three of them hurried off into the darkness, just as the group of Cavalry soldiers she'd expected appeared, and were intercepted by Taethowen.

(OOC @Frostbite: I'll post our arrival in the new Infirmary thread, and do some handwaving about you being unconscious, after which I'll move that thread on to the morning after the fire)

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill – visiting her parents homestead in the Eastfold

She had come partly to visit her parents, but mostly because she knew there were herbs, medical plants of great value to the hælends of the cavalry, that could be found in this part of the Eastfold. And as the days went on she spent much of the daylight helping with the summer farm work, and enlisting her nieces and nephews to help her search for the plants she wanted. Her parents shook there heads as the roofs filled up with plants hung to dry. It had been like that from her childhood, roots, leaves, flowers... hung everywhere it was room to dry. Medicine plants hung together with herbs and spices, all in a chaos that seemed to make sense for her and never to them.

Even as her parents and her brother and his family harvested and preserved the bounty that marked late summer, she was busy preparing the medicinal plants. Though she would not stay for long, there were much work to be done in her own home in Edoras. There too vegetables, fruits, berries, herbs, roots, and flowers awaited harvest time. In a few days, her parents thought, she would leave again, the chaos of drying plant parts lingering in the roofs for a few weeks. Then she would return, with pots and jars and small bags over every shape and size to transport it to Edoras, always making sure that they had more then enough to last them over the next year. And to share with the neighbours, if needed. Ama's mother had not been a hælend, yet her daughter had imprinted some basic knowledge, and now, what few homesteads lay closer would come here for herbs when a ride to the Aldburg was not possible or thought necessary. It was a welcome income in a way, some medicine in exchange for food, beer, or even wool or linen, or just the knowledge that a debt from before had been repaid, one service for another. It was the way of life here in the outposts.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Taethowen]

Taethowen, Wrapping Up in F&F

By the time Taeth turned back from directing the newly-arriving Cavalry troops, the Númenórean woman (Zôr) had vanished, and Thali had apparently roused Frost enough--there was simply no way either Thali or herself would be able to haul Frost off the ground and onto an equine of any size--that he'd managed to get on the back of a pony and they were fading into the distance down the street.

Taeth swore quietly as she realized that she needed to stash her bow and quiver somewhere. It would be near impossible to fight a fire with both those things. She looked around for safe spot, settled on the base of the hill that led up to Meduseld. She darted back behind the Æthelmund, giving it a wide berth, and found a shadowed spot along the motte. She quickly unstrung her bow, and removed the quiver on her back, and nestled them both behind a bit of brush, praying they would stay safe and undiscovered.

Then, she ran back around to the front of the Æthelmund, and stood for a moment to observe the scene.

---

(And this segues right into my first post in the firefighting thread.)

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Vale of Anduin: the Dughlaich Homestead :

The Hammerhelms reached the edge of the forest in the hour before dawn. A hard time they’d had of it, the litter ungainly and the forest path twisting and uneven. They’d paused often to make running repairs to Nadene’s bier, and once for a frugal meal at mid-evening.

Aodh stood in his stirrups and stretched his aching frame as he scanned the land before them. Below the wooded hillock a temperate valley lay, the yard of the Dughlaich homestead, and the roofs of its surrounding buildings, were bathed in moonlight. No lamps were lit to greet them.

After a long moment Aodh urged the harrier-mount forward, a hand resting lightly on Bælslean’s pommel, the other guiding the mare and litter along the last steps of their journey.

“Here at last,” he called to Eléo, as he dropped from the saddle alongside the barn and stable. “We made better time than I thought we would. Our handicraft might be crude, but your knot work proved up to the challenge.”

He took his wife’s reins, tied them to the hitching post and helped her from the saddle. He held Eléo close for a moment and kissed her lightly on the lips, her eyes were bright in the moonlight, but he saw that her face was drawn with exhaustion.

“How long is it since you slept soundly?” Aodh said. “To me, a good night’s rest seems an age ago.”

He glanced longingly across the yard at the cottage. The front stoep and door were deep in shade; beyond the shadows lay the comfort of Nadene’s kitchen and the guest room. Ælfred’s parting words sounded in his head:

Seek not the succour of hearth and koei when you come there, din. The Dark Man’s malice and stench will taint the 'cote for long days still!

”I would not have us enter the cottage until full daylight,” he said to Eléo. “I’m afraid ‘tis another night of sleeping rough, but at least we shall have a roof overhead - the barn is sound and snug. I’ll get the horses into the stable, fed and settled. Would it please you to prepare our bedchamber?”

--

FFW>> The Eastfold: Amadhrill’s family homestead: : NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

The third day of their ride drew on. Ringbold sat in Ælfred’s lap chattering endlessly as the morning brightened and the green grasslands of the Eastfold rolled out before them.

“How much longer, Ælf'? How much longer till we get wherever we’re going? How do you think Aodh and Eléo are getting on? Have they reached Nadene’s cottage, I wonder? And where in all the wide world has Arthur got to?”

“Midday,” the old wigend, growled. “If the woman we seek is where I hope she’ll be. If not, then many wheels further still, Master Holbytla. It will be long after evening before you see the walls of Aldburg, do you think you can make it that far without rest?”

“Of course,” Ringbold replied. “But not without a meal. My foot is fine, but my tum will be rumbling before long. What a pity there isn’t an inn along the way – a hot breakfast, a warm fire and a bath would be a blessing!”

The pair of travellers crested a hill and Ælfred let out a loud whoop. “Your wish may soon be answered, freond. Look, there lies the ‘stead we seek. Let us hope the hæland, @Amadhrill is home!”

Tightening his grip around the hobbit’s waist the old wigend let out a loud huzzah. Nimrod broke into a gallop and Sandy cantered along gamely behind. Ælfred reined in at a fence that surrounded the house and its yard.

“Hullo!” he called. “Is anyone home? We come seeking the assistance of Amadhrill the healer!”

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm - hiding in a grove of trees (and wrapping up F&F)

When Zarâm asked the question to the currently defenseless Allacan, she was surprised and a bit confused by the cryptic answer she received. Clearly this woman had strong ties to both areas and greatly desired to be loyal to both. Who was this Cuthburt she mentioned? And what did he have to do with everything?

At last Allacan asked why she had saved her life, but before Zarâm could answer, several Cavalry soldiers showed up at the burning building only a few yards away and several alarm bells began to ring throughout the city. Allacan lept up, grabbed the bag of weapons, and hurried away into the night.

"Because you're fascinating!" Zarâm called after the retreating figure. There was nothing else she could say as she honestly didn't know what had possessed her to save the woman. Orcs weren't in the regular habit of saving others. She started to follow, but stopped. Pursuing the strange woman could wait. Preserving her own life was more important at this time and it would not do to be found close by the scene of a fire, especially after the inferno at the After Party. Of course, neither fire could technically be traced back to her, but she had certainly had been involved in the starting of flames at both locations, thought the one in the pub was an accident.

Glancing around, she noticed that the shadowy figures of Zôr and Frost had disappeared. She wasn't certain where the best place for her to hide was, but at some point during the last day she had heard Thali say something about her Infirmary. If Frost was anywhere, it was hopefully there, and if Thali ran it, it would be a safe place for her to hide out until the fires (literal and metaphorical) had calmed down.

Her foot caught against something in the grass and she almost fell down. Stooping over, Zarâm noticed that the saw she had swiped from the blacksmith's shop was lying in the grass. It must have fallen from the bag of weaponry. Throwing the saw over her shoulder, Zarâm turned and slunk slowly away from the growing inferno. Minions only started fires. They didn't bother to put them out.

[Eléowyn]

Vale of Anduin: the Dughlaich Homestead

The journey had been exhausting, made all the more so by the knowledge of the task that lay ahead of them. Still, it had not been unpleasant, for there had been times when they could ride side by side, and talk of ordinary things, or simply quietly enjoy the pleasure of being together.

But at last they had reached their first destination, and Eléo was grateful for Aodh’s arms guiding her as she slid from her saddle. Her body ached, and her legs were almost numb. She could see the outline of Nadene’s cottage in the dull gray light of pre-dawn, and it should have been a welcoming sight for weary travelers. But it took no urging from Aodh for her to avoid it; the Dark Man’s malice still hung in the very air surrounding it, or so it seemed to her.

“The barn it is,” she replied, “and I am grateful for it.” She took blankets and bags from the horses’ backs before Aodh led them away toward the stable. The barn was indeed sound and dry, and full of bales of sweet smelling hay. She cut several open to form a makeshift mattress, over which she spread blankets. In one corner she prepared another smaller bed, on which they could lay Nadene’s bier while they slept. She would not have it left in the open to be picked on by carrion-fowl or wild animals.

When her task was completed, she went to help Aodh move the litter to its prepared place in the barn. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, but the need for sleep was greater. Once they had Nadene’s body settled, she dropped onto the awaiting pile of blanketed hay and fell almost immediately into a deep slumber.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin :

It took longer than he'd expected to see to their mounts, but finally Daesûl and the mare that had borne Nadene's litter were berthed in their stalls. Aodh looked up to find Eléo standing in the doorway. He smiled his thanks at her as they took up the litter, and followed her lead to the barn.

“I’ve one more horse to see to before I join you, léofling,” Aodh said, as he ran a final check over the bier. He turned and smiled. Asleep already! He knelt and kissed Eléowyn's brow. Good so, and may your dreams be sweet.

He returned to the stable to tend the final horse, the harrier-mount that had carried him from Hostellers' Row to the Tafelberg, and set to work on its tail and mane.

"You're a fine fellow, aren't you," he said, rubbing the beast's muzzle affectionately. "Not as tall as Daesûl, mayhap, nor even stock of the Mark, but feisty and fiery all the same. We have many roads yet to share, I warrant, and a good horse should not go nameless - not least to a master that loves him well. What's it to be I wonder?"

The horse, unbridled, followed Aodh into its stall without coaxing or command. It held his gaze for a long while before burying its nose in the freshly charged manger. "Good morrow for now," Aodh said, shutting the stall door, "I must rest a-time, and consider many things - what your name shall be, among them."

He stepped out into the yard, regarded the brightening sky for a second then entered the adjoining barn. It was a fine refuge; warm and dry, and rich with the scent of hay and seasoned timber. The tang of linseed that oiled Goldwhæt’s tools and tack hung in the air.

Eléo lay atop the comfy nest tucked between two neat rows of baled hay. She was still fast asleep. He stood silent, listening to the sweet sound of her living breath, as he eyed Nadene's litter.

Guilt welled in his heart, not for the death of his friend, nor even for the hurt it would visit on her man, Goldwhaet Dughlaich. It was an ignoble thing that shamed him: relief that Nadene had perished in his wife's stead.

Sleep would not find him until he'd walked off such sentiment. He turned, closed the door quietly behind him, and stalked off along the northern perimeter of the yard.

He felt no fear of ambush or peril, even though the ‘stead sat on the edge of a long contested border. But old habits, and the lessons handed down from Cord the Lærm, died hard, if it all. He drew Bælslean from his side, and walked the boundaries of the 'stead locked in deep thought.

His path took him around the green mound where Nadene had seen off Fleðð's pack of weasels; the selfsame howe on which she'd plighted her troth to Goldwhæt with Eléowyn bearing witness, and on toward the River. Along the bank of Anduin he loped, through the reed banks where a kingfisher's flight had stayed Nadene’s self-destruction, and back on through the rows of fruit trees and carefully sited vegetable beds.

The homestead had been a fair place once, a place where a family would have prospered, but it had been blighted by the coming of The Dark Man. Nadene’s gardens were choked with weeds, the door of the empty chicken-coop flapped in the morning breeze - the thatch of the cottage had rotted and slumped inward.

At last, when daylight had found the Vale, and the night's last shadows had retreated, Aodh found his place beside Eléo. He placed his head upon her comely shoulder and fell asleep in an instant.

He did not stir until daybreak of the following morn.

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

Sleep had come upon her more quickly than she had imagined, or hoped, for she was looking forward to lying in Aodh’s arms in the sweet hay and talking idly of the plans for the upcoming day. Some few hours after the sun had peeked above the roof of the barn, shining golden spears between the small cracks between some of the timbers, Eléo awoke to find her husband sleeping soundly next to her. She had not slept long enough, though thankfully it had been deep, but she felt refreshed and knew it was useless to lie there wishing for more.

She brushed a lock of hair from Aodh’s face and kissed his cheek before rising and, after making sure that Nadene’s bier had been undisturbed, exited the barn, closing the door softly behind her. The day was bright, and the spectre of malice that had hung over the cottage the night before seemed less menacing.

She found a water trough with a pump overhanging it, gave it a few pumps and found, to her relief, that the water flowed freely. The cool water was refreshing on her face, but more importantly, there would be plenty of fresh water at hand for bathing Nadene before laying her to rest.

The hunger that had niggled at her the night before was now a thunderous rumble in her belly. She did not wish to disturb Aodh, nor did she think she could bring herself to cook in Nadene’s kitchen, so after the quick wash-up she retrieved their bags, found some hardtack, and ate a joyless but filling breakfast.

By now the sun was westering and there was no sound coming from the barn. Eléo took a deep breath and made her way to the stoop of the cottage. The door was ajar and hanging slightly off hinge. As she stepped into the kitchen, a mouse scattered quickly out of sight, and the sudden flapping of bird wings startled a small squeal out of Eléo. The wren whirled about for a moment, wings beating furiously, then found the opening and escaped into the afternoon.

Eléo found a clean cloth and began to wipe down the table that dominated the room. This was where she would wash and prepare Nadene for burial. She wiped gently at first, then began to scrub furiously, as tears began to stream down her cheeks. She scrubbed until she had no strength left in her hands and the tears had subsided.

There was still no sign or sound from Aodh, so she dried her hands and stepped into the bedroom. The room was illuminated with a golden glow from the one small window. Hanging from a hook on the far wall was the dress in which Nadene had been wed. Eléo took it down and laid it across the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles and making sure there were no stains. This was the dress in which Nadene had begun a new life, and it would be the dress in which she would be buried. The memory of how lovely, and happy, Nadene had looked in it threatened a new rush of tears, but Eléo managed to blink them back. She wished now, more than ever, that Rusty were here to see his wife one last time.

The sun was now well on its way toward sunset. Eléo made her way back to the barn, slid the door open just enough to peer in, and could hear Aodh’s soft snoring. Her heart wrenched at the thought of how exhausted he must have been to sleep so long. There was nothing further she could do to prepare Nadene without his help in bringing her to the cottage, so Eléo decided to take a stroll around the unkempt gardens.

There she found fragrant rosemary and thyme; she cut a few snippets of each and gathered them into a small bouquet. She tucked a sprig of lavender into the middle and tied it all together with a small strip of cloth. This she would place in Nadene’s hands before they lowered her into the ground.

With the day now all but spent, Eléo had another meager meal of hardtack, made sure the horses were fed and watered, then headed back into the barn. She was now exhausted again herself. The burial would have to wait one more day. She slipped under the blanket next to her husband, wrapped one arm across him, and fell fast asleep.

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill's childhood homestead, the Eastfold

The sound of horses and a call made the inhabitants of the little homestead emerge from the buildings, they were not used to visitors in these parts. The old wife walked forward, but upon hearing her daughter's name she turned to a young lass of maybe 13.

«Ingeborg, run and get your aunt. She will be by the river!» The lass turned with a flash of golden hair, hoisted her skirts high, secured them in a practised hand, and set off in a remarkable speed. She was a runner, her movements graceful and fast as the bare feet barely touched the grass one after the other. The old woman turned to the travellers, taking in the sight of the Rohirrim and the halfling. «She will not be long, Ingeborg is a fast runner... Come now, how can we help to get you inside? My daughter-in-law will put on some tea and bread, we do not have much, but what we have we will share!» Ragnhild, the hælend's mother gestured towards the door, where a woman in her late-thirties nodded and turned.

By the river, Ama was bent double, her golden red hair tied back under a white head scarf. The skirt was tied up to prevent it from getting wet while she walked up along the riverbank. «Modrige! Modrige!»

Ingeborgs call make her straighten her back, feeling it crack into its place. «A man asks for a hælend!» The words take only a moment to register, she takes the basket in one hand and runs after her niece. Thought slightly hindered by the basket, her steps are quick and sure-footed as the hælend runs after the lass, the woman slower than the girl. Soon the hælend came around the house, slightly winded from the short run.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

A shaft of sunlight drew Aodh Hammerhelm from the succour of his wife's arms to Goldwhaet Dughlaich’s workbench. He dressed alongside it, making careful inventory of what was needed for the task ahead.

He slipped on his worn boots, tightened his belt and lifted a small wooden chest from the floor. The letters on the domed lid were crisp and clear, as if they'd been carved a week before rather than in a distant when. "Bert!" Aodh whispered, a rueful smile creasing his weathered face, as he traced the name with a fingertip.

He opened the coffer and sorted through its contents, setting aside the chattels that would accompany Nadene to the grave: a pair of trousers patched with love and care, a woollen shirt crafted by her fair hand and a braided leather bracelet. He stacked these items in a neat pile atop the workbench, then gathered the tools needed to prepare a tomb.

Eléo slept still. How long she had laboured while he passed a day in sleep, he could not tell, and he did not wake her. Outside the day was fair and mild; a cloudless sky arced from the western woodlands to the sheer cliff that climbed to the bald hill country of the Wold.

He made a quick trip to the stable, and saw signs there of his wife’s handiwork. Daesûl and Nadene’s mare gazed up at him momentarily then returned to their fodder. The harrier-mount swung its head over the door of its stall, and neighed a greeting. “Good morning,” Aodh said. “I see your mistress has seen to your breakfast, I cry your pardon for being less attentive, I have yet to uncover your name. Be patient, we shall ride again soon.”

He stepped out into the yard once more, and stood there for a long moment, shovel and mattock upon his shoulder. A pump and trough stood in the shadow of the cote's near wall - he would use it gladly, once his work was done!

Footprints marked the dusty steps that led to the stoep of the forlorn cottage, the kitchen door stood wide open. A wren alighted on the veranda’s railing as Aodh crossed the yard; it followed on behind him in short darting flights as he strode towards the River.

The green mound was deep in shade; the grove of apple trees that encompassed it heavy with summer fruit. A square of lesser green atop the tump caught Aodh’s eye, he shrugged off his tunic and set the shovel’s blade to this faded turf. The discoloured grass yielded easily, and the earth beneath.

He knelt and examined the void he’d uncovered, the small chamber where Goldwhæt and Nadene had hidden the Horn of the Eld. He swept the space with his fingers and probed its floor. Several inches deeper a rotted sack was revealed, Aodh lifted it carefully and carried it to the base of the mound. He did not need to open the bag, Nadene had told him of its contents before he set out for the Tafelberg.

An hour later he’d enlarged the hidey-hole into a rectangular slot that ran west to east through the mound’s summit. The trench was not as deep as he’d have liked it, the soil below the grass claggy and hard to shift. He sunk the blade of the shovel into the grass at the base of the howe, then made several trips to the river, returning with armloads of stones to line and cap the grave.

A handcart would have eased his labour, but there was something fitting about completing the work the hard way. Laying a loved one to rest, especially one whose demise your hand had played a part in, should not be easy.

Aodh laid the last stone in the trench, dusted his hands on his trousers, and looked up. The wren sat on the handle of the shovel watching him intently, and beyond, on the pathway leading from the 'stead, he saw Eléowyn, her hair golden in the sunlight, leaning on the gates to Nadene's garden. *

--
@Eléowyn * see Facebook status *

@Amadhrill (Ælfred and Ringbold shall reply to you later this evening, I have a cricket match to attend, and have run out of time :()

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Eastfold: Amadrhill’s family homestead: : NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

“My greetings and my thanks, mother,” Ælfred said to the woman (Ragnhild) as he dropped from the saddle. He secured their mounts’ reins, then lifted Ringbold from Nimrod’s back.

“We have food in our gunna,” he said, entering the cottage. “Food we would gratefully add to your larder, ma’am. I am Ælfred of the Eastfold, and this injured fellow, the chap who regards your fire and pots so intently, is Ringbold Took. He is a holbytla of the Shire, though he long ago left his homeland.”

The old wigend sat Ringbold in a chair, and knelt beside him. The hobbit’s bandaged foot showed no sign of fresh blood or odious discharge, which eased Ælfred’s heart.

“Why don’t you bring in what’s left of the bacon… and the vegetables in my pack?” the hobbit said, dispelling any further qualms the old wigend might have had about his friend's health.

--
@Amadhrill

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

Eléowyn awoke to the feel of hot breath in her face. “Well, hello, you scoundrel,” she greeted Wulf. “I see you have caught up to us at last.” She playfully pushed him away, noting the empty swath of crushed hay next to her. “Well it seems I am the last to rise this morning. No time to tarry, though; there is much to be done.”

In the distance she could hear what sounded like rocks falling upon rocks. She followed the sound down the path toward the orchard, stopping when she spied Aodh, beneath the creeping shadow of the bower, laboring over what was surely to be Nadene’s mound. He was glistening with sweat; he must have been at it for hours, she guessed.

She had stood happily watching for some few minutes when he looked up and saw her. She lifted a hand in greeting, smiled, and made her way toward him, plucking a couple of low-hanging apples along the way.

“Here is a small reward for your labors,” she said as she tossed one to him. “They may be a week short of perfectly ripe, but hopefully not too tart.”

“I promise I will prepare you a breakfast befitting your labors, but first I need your help with one thing. I have prepared everything I need to attend to Nadene, if you would help me carry her to the kitchen. I will bathe and dress her there.”

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

Aodh caught the apple single-handed and made to polish it on a shirt cuff. He grinned bashfully at Eléowyn; his shirt lay beside the tools. He transferred the fruit to his maimed left hand, and offered the right to his wife. Their fingers twined as they turned their backs on the burial mound.

Down the dappled path of the arbour they walked together; the scars that marked Aodh’s torso, the tell-tales signs of the treacherous road he’d travelled, softened by the shaded light. Aodh did not speak, his thoughts turned inward, as the cottage drew nearer.

Nadene was gone; he felt grief and remorse for her passing, as he had when he’d sacrificed David the hawk to win the weapons of his forebears. But there was still a part of the old Aodh (and the fourteen year old boy named Roland) buried deep in his heart, a flinty splinter that weighed reason against emotion.

Aye, Nadene was gone, but Eléowyn lived - and countless others who would have perished by The Dark Man’s hand. There was always a price to pay for peace, he deemed, and he found that he could live with that.

Aodh felt Eleo’s pulse thrumming against his as they walked; the gift of Eru in the hand he held. He smiled as they crossed the yard, and drew his wife to him as they reached the foot of the cote’s stairs.

“I shall find you in the kitchen, léof,” he said. “I can manage the litter alone, until it needs lifting to a table. Prepare yourself, I shall be back anon.”

--
@Eléowyn

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin
[Warning: mild post-morten description]

The morning would have been idyllic were it not for the task they were performing: warm sunshine beside a blue river, apples ripening in the orchard, and her beloved’s hand in hers. Eléo pondered briefly as they strolled toward the cottage on how fortune smiled on some, while dealing others blow after blow. Not that she had been spared her share of sorrows, and perhaps some day fortune’s wheel might turn against her again. And not that she deserved good fortune more than had Nadene. But thank the gods that she had, for now, all her heart desired.

At the cottage stoop, Eléo squeezed Aodh’s hand before she stepped inside the sun-dappled kitchen. A bowl of water stood ready, and into it she crushed some of the rosemary and lavender she had picked the night before. A clean cloth and towel lay folded neatly next to the bowl, as well as a small cake of soap that she had found. All was ready.

She heard the scrape of the litter crossing the yard and went to hold the door open wide. Once Aodh had a foot inside, Eléo stepped to the other end and lifted the bier up the final step; together they hefted it onto the table. She saw that Wulf had followed Aodh from the barn, but he stopped short at the cottage entrance. He would not come in, but he sat sentry just outside.

“Thank you, min léof,” Eléo said, giving Aodh a quick kiss. “This task is now mine. I will call for you when I have her bathed and dressed. Take some well-deserved rest.”

Eléo dreaded unwrapping the makeshift shroud with which they had covered Nadene. It was now the second day since her death. Or was it the third? Eléo had lost track.

Other than a slight sickly sweet odor, her fears were unfounded. The stiffening of the body had passed, and Nadene’s face now looked peaceful. Eléo began carefully removing her clothing, folding each piece and laying it aside. The clothes were stained and tattered from the abuse Nadene had endured at Scielda’s hand as well as from the fall, but Eléo could not bear to toss them aside heedlessly. They had, after all, borne witness to Nadene’s courage.

Eléo then began carefully bathing Nadene with the fragranced water, being very careful to remove any trace of dirt or blood. She hummed a dirge as she washed, starting with the face. She worked slowly, taking care to be as gentle as if washing a newborn babe. She had completed the face, neck, and arms when the humming stopped and Eléo stood back for a moment. Could it be? she wondered. Impossible to say for sure, but if what she suspected were true, it made Nadene’s death all the more tragic.

Shaking her head sadly, she returned to her work. Once the bathing was complete, Eléo fetched the dress from the next room and carefully slipped it over Nadene’s head and body. She then found Nadene’s hair brush and ran it gently through her hair until the tangles were smoothed and her hair lay softly about her shoulders, after which she placed the small fragrant bouquet she had gathered the night before into Nadene’s hands.

Before calling for Aodh to return, Eléo took a quick look at a shelf on one of the kitchen walls. There she found what she sought, a small cruet of camphor oil. This she placed near Nadene’s head on the table; she would give Aodh the honor of anointing Nadene before they buried her.

Satisfied that all was ready, she went in search of Aodh.


@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Amadhrill]

The Eastfold: Amadhrill's family homestead

The guests enters the small main door that led directly into the main room of the house, the room smells of a variety of herbs hanging from the roof and the stew on the fire place. Ama follows closely after the wigend and the halfling. The children cramming their necks to have a better look at the halfling, having never seen one before. Ragnhild speaks again. «Welcome to our home, masters Ælfred andRingold Took. Ah, there is my daughter, Amadhrill, the hælend you seek.»

Ama smiles at the two strangers as the hobit is set down on a chair. She sets down her basket besides the door. Though the hobbit is carried inside, there is a distinct lack of hurry in their movements, the hobbit even speaking of bacon and vegetabes. So the hælend takes a deep breath, letting herself catch her breath properly from the run.

«Westu Ælfred of the Eastfold and master Ringbold Took of the Shire hál! Call me Ama.» She greets both in a soft and gentle voice, then she she kneels in front of the holbytla, speaking in the same gentle voice. She unwraps the bandaging, looking up at the hobbit with smiling green eyes. «Forgive my nieces and nephews, master Holbytla, your kind is not often seen in these parts of Rohan, I do not think they have ever seen a holbytla before...»

The hælend's sister-in-law comes over with two bowl of stew with a piece of bread on top, offering one to the hobbit and the other to the old wigend. «Ingeborg, be a dear and get a stool and a cup of tea for the masters.» The young runner is quick with the stool, putting it down besides the hobbit to serve as a table, then she comes over with the tea mugs. Then she turns to her children, half chasing them out of the door with two baskets of food. «Now, the rest of you, take the baskets of food out to the fields and eat with your father and grandfather.»

Amas green eyes looks carefully at the wound, moving the foot carefully so not to cause the hobbit more pain then necessary, keeping her fingers and hands away from the wound. The bleeding has stopped, but the wound is still deep. «Mama, can you bring me my hælend bag, please? And boil some clean rags for me...» She leans her nose closer, sniffing, taking in the smell of rosemary from the leaves someone put on the cut, relieved that there is no smell of infection from the cut.

«Sword cut, master Ringbold Took? You have been lucky, whoever did the first treatment of you knew a thing or two of first aid, it might well turn out it saved both your leg and your life...» Her voice is soft and grave. She slowly and very carefully sets the foot back down on the chair. Then she digs through her bag, finding the thread and needle. «Whoever treated you have cleaned the wound well, there is no signs of infections. Therefore I will just clean away the leftover of the ointment before giving you some... embrodery...»

There is a small appologetic smile on her face, she knows well that both will cause him pain, but there is not much to be done about it. She adds a bit of willow bark into his tea. «If this is too bitter, let me know, I am sure my mother has some honey to sweeten the tea. The willow bark will take away the worst of the pain, so I advice you to drink it up while I prepare myself.»

She stands up and goes to wash her hands thoroughly in a wash basin. When she returns it is with a wash basin of boiling hot water with a few clean rags in them, smelling sweetly of lavender and oregano.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

The litter moved easily behind him as he crossed the yard, but Aodh had not accounted for the stairs that led to the stoep or the strain that the cutting and lining of the grave had placed on his arms and shoulders.

The bier juddered as he climbed the first step, the dead weight of Nadene’s body almost wrenched the litter from his hands as he turned to gain better traction. For an awful moment he pictured their lifeless friend thrown in an ungainly sprawl in the dust of the yard, then, Bema be praised, Eléowyn was beside him.

Aodh breathed a sigh of relief once the litter rested safely upon the kitchen table, the selfsame table where he’d broken fast with Nadene a few short days before. His eyes flicked over the herbs, soap and water that Eléo had made ready as he left her to her work.

“Good lad, Wulf,” he said, scratching the faithful hound behind the ears, as he hunkered on the stoep for a moment. Wulf turned his bright eyes on Aodh, and thumped his tail. He lent his body against Aodh’s knee before curling himself up on the threshold of the cottage. Rest, Eléo had said. But there were things yet to do before he could lounge beside Wulf with the makings of a smoke in hand.

Aodh made for the stable and barn, returning a short time later with Nadene’s mare beside him and a pile of clothing in his arms. He secured the mare’s reins to a verandah post, and set the clothing atop a barrel beside the pump and trough. A frown creased his brow as he stripped away his soiled clothing and began his ablutions. The unfathomable conundrum still nagged at him as he towelled his body in the sunlit yard.

Aodh's gaze flitted between Wulf and the mare as he dressed; he shrugged his shoulders as he fastened his belt buckle. Bert – Goldwhæt – might have wrestled with such a puzzle, tried to square a circle until his head ached. Alain certainly! But sometimes things were just what they were - a man accepted them and moved on.

He did so now, stepping out around the walls of the cottage and along the fence that led along the horse paddock towards the garden and orchard. He gathered Nadene’s basket and tools and worked his way through the beds towards the barrow. There he laid sheaves of dried grass, wild flower and a trowel and scythe, before making his way back through the apple bower to the barn.

Aodh made another quick search through Goldwhæt’s coffer, took up his gunna, and a cord of firewood from a pile stacked beside the barn door, then strode back out to the centre of the yard. He knelt and set a small fire, filled the battered billy-cans from his pack with water, and placed them over the flames. He dropped the last bounty of Nadene’s garden into one of the simmering pans, adding a handful of barley to the runner beans, carrot and cabbage, as he sliced the last slab of dried deer meat. The second billy would be used to make tea.

He made himself comfortable beside the fire and waited for Eléo to call him. The makings of a smoke lay forgotten in his lap, as he read through the tattered journal he’d found in Goldwhæt’s wooden chest.

--
@Eléowyn

@Amadhrill (Cry your pardon again ~ Ælfred and Ringbold shall speak with thee come the morrow)

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

Wulf jumped to his feet as Eléo exited the cottage, tail wagging in greeting, and followed her across the yard to where Aodh sat intently reading what appeared to be a journal. Eléo was curious but asked no questions; Aodh would tell her about it in due time, if he felt it was his to share. Instead, she laid a hand on his shoulder and, resisting the temptation to sit next to him and enjoy the aroma of the bubbling soup, said, “She is ready.”

They walked hand in hand back to the cottage, then stood one on either side of the table on which Nadene lay. “I have given her rosemary for remembrance,” Eléo said. “And thyme to honor her courage. The lavender will ease her rest.” She handed the oil-filled cruet to Aodh. “You should anoint her head and feet with this. It is camphor and will ward away evil spirits.” Eléo did not necessarily believe in such things, but she would take no chances that the wicked Scielda could torment Nadene beyond the grave.

“And there is one more thing,” she said. “I cannot be certain, it would have been early days yet, but I believe Nadene may have been with child.”

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin: :

The tome in Aodh’s lap was no conventional journal, it followed no chronology and was a thing of few words, but it held him in rapt fascination. Image after striking image was revealed with each turned page.

Aodh had, had no inkling of his friend’s hobby or exceptional talent (Silæs had been the harrier band’s artist, Goldwhæt its cartographer), but it lay exposed now in a series of random images that sketched the winding path from the distant West to this quiet vale beside Anduin.

There were landscapes, hastily captured with charcoal from the camp-fire, but for the most part the etchings were of folk they’d found (and lost!) along the way: Ælfred on a quayside mending nets; Siegfolc with his flute and pipes; Jake and Oy at sunset; Laer Lenwë, he of the mighty heart and bow; and Æddie salting deer hides in a forest grove.

The images improved page by page, as if Goldwhæt’s hand and confidence grew with each portrayal, and the introduction of pen and ink. Here was Ringbold in a high backed armchair; and Eléowyn, captured in a fighting stance, outside a tawdry inn.

Aodh’s breath caught in his throat as he turned the journal's last page.

By eerie coincidence, or foreshadowing of what lay ahead, Goldwhaet had drawn Pere of the Calla and Nadene on opposite leafs. The Old Fella knelt in benediction beside a row of open graves, Nadene gazed out serenely at Aodh from her rocking chair – a kingfisher perched upon her naked shoulder.

He closed the book as Eléo’s hands fell on his shoulders, placed it atop his gunna and allowed her to lead him across the yard.

The sun-warmed kitchen was filled with the fragrance of herbs; Aodh thought it fitting that Eléo had brought a piece of Nadene’s garden indoors. He stood for a long moment, weighing the words spoken by his wife, as he gazed down upon their dead friend. Courage, rest and remembrance had been carefully considered by Eléo. But fell spirits, mayhap not?

“Evil spirits,” Aodh said to Eléo, as he placed the cruet of oil beside Nadene’s head. “With child? We shall speak of the latter before we bury our sweoster - in the open air under a fair sky. But come, we shall need more than camphor to see that Nadene’s rest is not disturbed beyond this world."

He made for the master bedroom: Ælfred had tidied the slew of torn clothing and ruined luggage left by Rædwul Fleðð's rampage, but dust lay thick upon the floor, and a faint trace of the dark interloper, the far-off stink of a beast’s lair beside a fetid pool, fouled the air

A sea-chest stood at the foot of the bed. Aodh lifted its lid and knelt beside it. A leather purse sat upon a stack of clean linen and folded blankets; he loosened the tote’s strings and spilled its contents.

“La!” A belt buckle emblazoned with the White Sun, the twin of the one fastened at his waist, and two carved wooden horses lay in his palm.

“Holy wonder, Bert!” he whispered, as the memory of a distant courtyard washed over him. The scent of citrus hung on the evening air, two boys were at play in the shade of a row of orange trees. “You’ve carried them all this way, down all the long years…”

Aodh gazed at Eléowyn and handed her one of the carved steeds. “Keep this safe, léof” he said, as he stood.

Back in the kitchen Aodh lifted Nadene’s head gently and laid Goldwhæt’s shirt and trousers beneath her dark tresses as a pillow. He placed a wooden horse, and the belt buckle, between her wrists and breast and took up the cruet.

He moved slowly around the table, anointing Nadene’s feet and shoulders with a forefinger. He spoke no words, for he had no memory of the ritual spoken by The Old Fella, but he made Pere’s sigil upon Nadene’s forehead and eyelids. Then he leant in close, the scent of the camphor (or so he told himself later) bringing tears to his eyes, and brushed her lips with his.

“She is ready,” he said, drawing Eléo to his side. “I have her mare ready to bear the litter to the howe.”

--

The Eastfold: @Amadhrill's family homestead:
NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

The hustle and bustle in the room died down once bowls had been handed to the two travellers, and the children had left with their picnic basket.

Ælfred tucked into his stew as Ama the healer began examining Ringbold’s foot. He’d made the right choice. They would have not found a warmer welcome in Aldburg, or better care for the injured Halfling; the hæland was someone he knew by reputation, she’d been attached to the Cavalry for some time, and knew all there was to know about sword wounds as a matter of course.

“An excellent meal!” Ringbold peeped from his comfy chair. “We haven’t dined as well in a long age, have we Ælf’?”

The hobbit took the mug of tea from Ama, and sipped it cautiously. The willow was bitter, but not unpleasantly so. Ringbold drained the cup in a single swallow, and turned his gaze toward the pantry door as Ama returned with her needle and thread.

His trained eye made a quick inventory of the shelves and baskets in the larder, and he tallied this against the inhabitants of the homestead. The light tugging on his foot made it hard to concentrate, but the willow had cast a hazy mellowness over him and he felt no pain.

Sitting there, in a comfy chair with his feet propped on a stool and a warm hearth close to hand, was like relaxing in the parlour of Aodh’s cottage after a few pints of porter. The only thing missing was a good book and a pipe!

“Tis good to know it, Ama,” Ælfred said, smiling at the healer, as the hobbit’s eyes closed and his curly head slumped against a cushion. “Miss Eléowyn, my thain’s wife, saw to the wound immediately; she has some herb-knowledge and a good deal of common sense.

The cut was well bathed before she bound it in a poultice, that would be three days ago now. I’ve cleaned the wound and changed the dressings twice daily since we left her.”

The old wigend placed his empty bowl in his lap and looked at Ama with some concern.

“Can you be sure there is no infection, freond?” he said. “I could not bear to lose my friend… We have been trail-mates for a long while now, yet now I see that long is not long enough!”

[Amadhrill]

The Eastfold – Amadhrill's family homestead

Her hands moves quickly as she washes the wound with the herb infused water. «Yes, my sister-in-law and mother are wonderful cooks, are they not?» She laughs softly and smiles to the holbytla. «Unfortunately I never learned much of it, being too preoccupied with herb lore...»

Then she stitches the necessary stitches to close the sword cut on the foot of the holbytla. Her needle moves quickly and sure, confident that she knows what she does. She sees the hobit's eyes going to the pantry, with the summer coming to it's end the pantry is being filled again with the harvest. Most years it takes the family through the winter, never starving, but never in a plenty either. She finishes the stitches and gently dabs on a poultice of honey mixed with lavendel and plantain.

«Aye, Ælfred, in our parts of the Riddermark it pays to have some herb-knowledge and plenty of common sense. And I am not surprised that Eléowyn has both, I know her a little from old...» She looks at the wound again and up at the old wigend. They are not the first to come her way with a wound in need of treatment, and she did not ask. In time, the story often found her ears, one way or the other, but not always. She keeps her hands and eyes busy, hiding the worry she felt for having a hobbit come with a sword cut and a connection to Eléowyn and her family. Her voice shows not the feelings she has as she speaks in the same steady, soft voice. «How is she and her husband?»

Ama's green eyes meets the eyes of the wigend, seeing his concern. Her face softens as she binds Ringbolds leg. «Master holbytla, you have been lucky with your friend! But no, freond, I cannot be sure it is not infected, or will become so... There is always the risk as the wound heals that there is some dirt still left.» She fastens the bandage and stands up. Her hand feels the forehead and the back of the neck of the hobbit.

«There is no sign of infections as I can see, feel, or smell, the cut has started to heal, there are many good signs for the holbytla's recovery in time. Yet, I have not much knowledge of the healing of holbytlas... How are you feeling, master Ringbold Took?»

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

Eléo took the carved horse from Aodh and held it reverently in cupped hands at her waist. She knew not its significance, but clearly it held some importance. The buckle she had recognized, of course, but was surprised to see there was a double of her husband’s. For a moment she felt like an outsider, witnessing something of which she was not a part. But she had been a part, she reminded herself, even if it was at the ending of a tale that had spun out over many years.

Aodh performed his task of anointing Nadene with care, and Eléo prayed that the oil and the talismans were enough to protect Nadene. If love alone could provide a shield of protection, then Nadene would surely rest undisturbed.

“She is ready,” Aodh said, echoing the words she had said to him upon finishing her part of the ritual. “Aye,” Eléo replied, “then let us see this done.” She took her place at Nadene’s feet, with Aodh at her head, and together they carried the litter to the mare waiting just outside.

“Rusty should be here to hold the reins as Nadene is taken to the mound,” Eléo said, feeling the bitterness at his disappearance once again. No matter how often she reminded herself that she should not judge how a man reacts to grief, she could not completely erase the feeling that running away was weakness. She held her tongue from further comment, however; as they proceeded to the mound, she wanted only to think of memories of Nadene as she was when she was newly wed and happy.

Newly wed … and with child? If true, she did not think Rusty could have known. She would not mention it again; Aodh would speak of it when he was ready.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Eastfold: @Amadhrill's family homestead: : NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

Ælfred measured the hæland’s words carefully as she made the final stitch work to Ringbold’s wound. When she looked up at him, and held his gaze frankly with those eyes so green, he felt his concern for the hobbit fall away.

“You speak true, lady,” he smiled at Ama. “There’ll be water if Bema wills it, old folk often say. But, I place my trust rather in your skill and herb craft, and know that Master Ringbold will live to fight another day.

He seems comfortable enough, doesn’t he, and peaceful? Aye, it’s hard to know how things are with hobbits when they are ill, they all take naps after a hearty meal.

Miss Eléowyn is well, and her husband Aodh Hammerhelm. They have thwarted a great evil on the East marches of the Wold, it is there that the hobbit was injured, and where they lost one of their company. They are north of here now, taking the fallen to her place of rest alongside Anduin.”

The old wigend chose not to mention that the Hammerhelm-tet had lost more than one of their number below the Tafelberg. Goldwhæt Dooley was none of the healer’s concern at the moment, nor, if Ælf' had read his wayward friend’s spoer aright, would he be darkening her door in the near future

“But come, the holbytla rests. Ama," Ælfred said, rising from his chair. "Is there aught I can help with around the ‘stead while he snores? It would be a part-payment for your services and kindness. Set me to work, lady - I deem it will be some time before Ringbold is fit to travel?”

__
@Amadhrill

@Eléowyn (I shall join you under the apple trees in the morning )

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

The path through the dappled arbour of apple trees seemed to stretch out into infinity before them; the creak of leather and sapling dogged their footfalls as the litter bore Nadene to her last resting place.

Aodh, like Eléowyn, walked before the mare in silence, but he gave no thought to Goldwhæt Dughlaich, his mind fixed on the act that would mark the end of the trail he’d taken out of the distant West.

He’d walked much of that road alone, left many behind in unmarked graves. But he was no longer alone - Eléo was beside him, and they would see this last act out together.

They stepped out at last onto the grassy sward, the clearing at the end of the path beside Anduin. Songbirds quietened as the Hammerhelms climbed the barrow, hand in hand, and led the mare to the foot of the trench that scarred the green summit.

Aodh gazed into his wife's eyes for a moment, before freeing the leather straps that bound the litter to the horse's saddle. He'd cut the grave fine he saw - the stone-lining might yet prove folly! - but the bier dropped into the grave smoothly as he walked it into position.

“Leave the mare to guard her mistress one last time,” he called to Eléo, beckoning her to follow, as he seized up the sack he’d exhumed earlier.

He took his wife’s hand firmly and walked with her to the bank of the river. He stood with her for a long while, gazing west in silence. The wind sighed gently in the reeds; a fish eagle’s forlorn cry sounded from the wood on the far shore.

Aodh’s brow furrowed as he remembered his leave taking from this Vale for the Tafelberg, and the words Nadene had leaned in and whispered before he climbed a-saddle.

“With child,” Aodh said at last, turning to face Eléo. “But too early to know for certain. If so, why did you think it, léof?”

--
@Eléowyn

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

They held no ritual, said no words, sang no songs. They had done their best to honor Nadene with their careful preparations for her burial. Nienna knew, Eléo felt certain, Nadene’s heart, and would guide her to her rest in the next life without their supplications.

Nadene’s mare neighed softly and hung her head as Eléo and Aodh left the mound, hand in hand. Eléo could sense there was more on her husband’s mind than grief for Nadene’s passing, but she spoke not a word. The sounds that surrounded them were as they should be: the sounds of a world at peace, no clanging of swords, or cries of battle, only the wind and the birds and the soft splash as a fish broke the surface of the water. She felt her husband’s strong hand in hers and thought how the world could be so beautiful and yet so cruel at the same time.

Aodh’s question broke her reverie. “I should not have spoken of it,” she replied, “as I cannot know for certain. But as I bathed her, there were certain signs—subtle but recognizable to another woman who has borne children. Though, of course, her body would have been changed by death, so I … it was likely folly on my part to imagine such a thing.” She paused for a moment, trying to decide whether to say more.

“I only knew her for a short time,” she continued at last, “but I felt a kinship of sorts, as if she were my sister. You may think me silly for saying this, but though I could be wrong about the physical signs, I feel it in my heart. Nadene was with child.”


@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Amadhrill]

The Eastfold: Amadhrill's family homestead

She knows not if it is the herbs in the tea or the food and warmth that works it magic, but she finds a blanket and puts over the holbytla. His breath is easy and steady, the face peaceful. The forehead and neck is not unusually warm either. She returns the smile of Ælfred and nods.

«Aye, so it is said. And when our time has come, it has come, no matter what skills and herbs and medicines we posess. But I think he will heal just fine.» She laughs a bit at his information. «Naps after a hearty meal, you say!? It must indeed be a peaceful and rich part of Arda they belong to!»

She puts her things in order and away, and eventually finds herself a bowl of stew too. For a moment the only sounds in the room is the hobbit's snores, the sounds of apples being chopped and dropped into a pot of water, the soft talk between her mother and sister-in-law as they prepare the apples to boil them into apple sauce.

«I am glad to hear your thain and the lady is well, but I am sorry for your loss. There is much talk of evil and strange happenings in Rohan again. And the cavalry is still so few...» She shakes her head between the mouthfuls of food. For a moment she is reminded of her duties back in Edoras, then Ælfred stands up and offers his help. She looks him over for signs of weariness, he has ridden a long way with a heavy burden of worry. But the food seem to have done him well.

«And have you rested, Ælfred?» She inquires, looking him straight in the eyes, satisfied that he is not tired she nods. «You are our guests, you do not need to work! And of payment, I do not charge for such services as this, most of those who come here when I happen to be here, have only what they need to survive. But if you so desire, the harvest is well on it's way, and potatoes are taken up today. If you wish to shoulder a little work, it will be highly appriciated! Though, first the dishes must be done...»

She hands him a kitchen towl with a smile, and starts to clean the bowls and mugs in bucket of soapy water, rinsing them in another bucket before handing them to him. «The holbytla seems to have managed the ride well. But I would advice you to stay the night if you can, there are beds to spare for the two of you to have a reasonable comfortable night here. And already it is afternoon, you will not get far on your journey onwards before the light fails...»

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

“You saw true,” Aodh said with a rueful smile, “with your heart and mind, Eléo, not your eye.

Aye, Nadene carried Goldwhæt’s child, she told me so before I rode out to find you. But she begged of me also to keep her news close to my heart, to tell it to no-one, and certainly not her husband, until our doom was decided upon Tafelberg.

Glad was my heart then, the seed of distant Gilead would take root in the soil of Middle-earth and prosper. But that hope is gone now! Goldwhæt and I are the last of our kind – the line of the Eld shall perish when our time is at last spent.”

Aodh fell silent. His eyes swept the surface of the Great River before they found those of his wife again:

”Would that she had heeded my warning, would that she had sped herself to Edoras without delay! But such is the way of the world. Wyrd, or the wishes of those over the Uncharted Sea, oft play us for fools. And yet we must carry on, as Nadene herself did.

Hers was a hard life: robbed at birth of her mother, blighted by a callous father, trammelled by the dread certainty that The Dark Man would one day come to claim her.

It was here that she came to take her own life but stepped back from the brink; it is here that she found Goldwhæt, wounded and wasted from the battle on One Tree Hill.

It is here, on this very spot, where she found courage, hope and salvation. It is because of her that I live and stand beside you here.”

Aodh held the rotted sack out over the bank, as he handed the silver trinket box Ælfred had given him to Eléo.

“I hold the bones of a brutish father before me, in yon’ box are the last vestiges of Fleðð's tet – the killing marks taken from their fell hands by Goldwhæt in the Chetwood many years ago.

Let the Great River be done with them, let it sweep them and their evil from this place and out of time and memory forever. Then can we say our last farewells to our sister, only then can we cap her grave with stone and turf and leave her to rest.”

Aodh threw the bag of bones out into the water. He placed his hand firmly on Eléo’s shoulder as he waited for her to pitch the silver casket into Anduin.

---

The Eastfold: @Amadhrill's family homestead: : NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

The old warrior placed the last dish on the sink counter. He stared out through the kitchen window, over the neat yard and tidy fields. He could hear the distant voices of the children, and their laughter.

Æstrid… Áisléong, his daughter’s fair; Bridgeôt, their mother, his only desired one. Had thirty years really passed since that awful morning?

He had not thought of his family in a long while, not since the great battle at Helm’s Deep. He’d buried his grief deep within his heart, lest the pain it brought destroy him day by day.

Yet now he found, standing in this homely setting, that Ama’s skill of healing lay not only in the dispensing of herbs or the tending of physical wounds. The hæland’s bright eyes and soft voice had lanced the festering boil that lay at the core of his soul.

To his amazement, and utter joy, he saw at last a way forward, a path that set aside ceaseless wandering, and led to the cool porch that looked out over the pastures below Breeze Hill.

“Nay, ma’am,” he said, offering a broad smile to Ama. “I have not rested, nor shall I till your potatoes are gathered. But I will take up gladly your offer of a soft bed when the work is done.

As for the hobbit, it would be best not to wakes him; he shall be comfortable enough in the chair with a blanket. If we try to move him to the bedchamber he shall wake, and that shall mean more cooking and a long night spent listening to tales of his adventures.

But, come show me where your spade, fork and barrow are stored and I shall set to work. With any luck, when evening falls, you’ll have one less harvesting task to concern you.”

--
@Amadhrill * @Eléowyn

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

So it was true. And now the babe was gone, one more innocent life to lay at the feet of their defeated enemy. Eléo thought she was beginning to understand the mood that seemed to hang in the air around Aodh since Nadene’s death—a mood beyond what could be explained by mourning the loss of a friend alone.

The confirmation of the child’s existence, along with Aodh’s words, weighed heavily on her. The circle of life—how often had she used that phrase to overcome her own sense of loss through the years. But the circle was too often broken, and she was faced with the reality that her circle would have an end, as would Aodh’s, and Rusty’s, as had Nadene’s.

But for today, there was the blue sky, the gentle lapping of the river at the bank’s edge, the call of a skylark overhead. And her husband by her side. She felt his hand firmly on her shoulder as she gazed for a moment at the silver box in her hand. She would not forget what had happened on the tafelberg, but she was ready to be rid of the remnants of the evil force they had defeated there. She gave Aodh a quick glance, then pulled back her arm and threw the box with all her might into the deeps of the water, where it sank immediately and was gone from sight forever.

“I am ready to go home,” she said abruptly, turning to face Aodh, “and hopefully there, or along the way, we will hear news of Ringbold and perhaps even Rusty.” She reached out to her husband so they could walk hand in hand back to the grave that lay open, awaiting their final farewells.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

"Home, aye so," Aodh said to Eléo as they walked to the graveside. "As soon as we're done here."

He stood with her atop the scarred mound, silent as he gazed into the pale face of their friend. He thought of Pere, The Old Fella, of his writ of sowing, tending and gathering.

Not everyone was lucky enough to reap what they sowed, he mused bitterly. Too often did a fierce gale or killing frost wither life’s crop before fruition.

He thought also of Mandos and his scales of judgement, and of Vairë, the weaver of time’s tapestry. They would not begrudge or condemn her, surely? Nadene’s valour – her sacrifice – could not be gainsaid!

He slipped his hand from Eléo’s and took up the bundles of wild-flower he’d gathered that morning. Drawing her close to him, he laid the dried blooms in her arms and hugged her tightly. The scent of faded summer was all pervading. He kissed her then for a long while.

Crossing to the far side of the grave, Aodh knelt and spread sheaves of barley and wheat over Nadene’s body, covering her carefully her from foot to waist. From his tote he drew the wooden box out of Mejis; from his belt their friend’s favoured tools.

He handed the sickle, trowel and dippers to Eléo, then slipped the silver ring from Nadene’s cold hand. He laced Goldwhaet’s leather bracelet through her fingers, before setting the wedding band, the coin crafted by her husband, into the tobacco box.

All these things were done in silence, the quiet ritual of protection, remembrance and contemplation. And at last that was done. There was nothing left to do but draw the river stones into place and cover them over with turf.

Aodh waited for Eléo to place Nadene's tools into the grave, then slid the first stone into position. The second followed easily, only Nadene’s head and shoulders were left uncovered. He gazed over at his wife, indicating with a nod that she should help him with the last stone.

As they hefted it, red sandstone etched with sigils of sun, hound and horse, Aodh closed his eyes. The stone fell into place and Nadene’s face was lost to him forever.

Husband and wife worked quickly now, rolling and packing the cut sod back into place. At last they stood, hand in hand, at the head of the howe. The sun was already at their backs, songbirds sang and chattered in wood and reed.

Aodh gazed down the avenue of apples, through the dappled shade to the yard before the cottage. A jumble of memories and images flew through his head as he strove to find something fitting to say or sing in parting.

He heard Ringbold chanting softly below the Tafelberg and saw the couplets etched by Goldwhæt below Nadene’s portrait. He clenched Eléo’s hand tightly as a lament coalesced, he opened his mouth but no words came.

There, in the sunlit yard, he saw two pale shapes (figments or phantoms, mayhap); a child at play with a wooden horse, and a woman gazing out over the fields in search of a husband returning from an honest day’s labour. We are beside you! Nadene seemed to whisper on the evening breeze.

The iron will that had driven Aodh along The Dark Man’s trial, the unshakeable resolve that had left others hastily mourned, broke now. His shoulders shook and his face writhed. He wept like he had long ago, like the boy who’d offered up a hawk for his father’s killing irons in that distant when.

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

Eléo drew Aodh’s shaking body close and held him tightly. She offered no words of consolation; what use were words in the face of such sorrow. She recalled well-meaning women with their empty words: “You will marry again, you will have more children.” How much better if they had sat quietly with her, letting her feel her grief. That was all she could do for her husband now—hold him close and let him feel her love. Her heart ached that she could not ease his pain. She, too, grieved for Nadene, but she understood that Aodh’s sorrow was deeper than that; he was grieving for a lifetime of losses, and perhaps not least for a life he was now leaving behind.

She held him until the shaking subsided, then lifted his head from her shoulder and gently kissed away the tears from his cheeks, his eyes, his mouth, her own tears merging with his as she did so.

They stood silently for a few moments longer, Eléo’s arm wrapped closely around Aodh’s waist, her head now on his shoulder. She noted their lengthening shadows as the sun was well on its way toward the western horizon.

“Aodh,” she said softly, “I would rather not stay here another night. I know there is a barn with sweet hay for a bed, but I think I would prefer to sleep under the stars tonight. If you would rather stay, I will not object, but for myself, I would rather be some distance away before nightfall. If you agree, I could gather some apples and see if there is anything left in the garden that is not rotted or taken by the rabbits and birds while you prepare the horses. What say you? Wherever we sleep will suit, even here, as long as we are side by side.”

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin:

Eléowyn's love had spared Aodh from whatever lay beyond The Dark Man's accursed door, and now it drew him back to her from the depths of his despair. He clung to her, face buried in her golden hair, as decades of loss and remorse poured from his soul.
.
"I love thee, Eléo," Aodh said at last, slipping his arms reluctantly from her waist. His hands lingered on her trouser clad flanks, as he gazed with quiet gratitude into her eyes. The call of a loon from across the water broke the long silence.

"Aye, we are done here - for a while. Your plan is sound, léof, I need no convincing. A night under starlight on a new road - who could want for more?

Take my gunna with you for your forage, it is all but empty. But gather seeds also from our friend's fields... In time we shall sow them, wherever we choose to live, and remember her well with their flowering.

Meet me at the edge of the 'stead, by the path you travelled with Goldwhæt. I shall not be long!"

But how long was long? Aodh had more to consider than their baggage and horses. The Dark Man was gone, but he'd cast a long shadow over the Vale.

This place would bear watching, Aodh thought, as his feet found the hard packed earth of the yard. The hands of the gods were not infallible! A careless stitch or frayed thread, in Vairë's tapestry, might yet offer a space in time that could be exploited by those of Fleðð's ilk.

Aye, in time he would set a watch here - one of the White! Silæs..? Ælfred..? Or Goldwhæt, if he ever found the strength to return to the valley.

Aodh blinked in the westering sun, during his musing he'd saddled the horses and tethered them to a rail of the stoep's steps. Their baggage was hung over the withers of Nadene's mare; Eléo's steed and the harrier-mount eyed him eagerly.

"Not yet, fine fellows," Aodh smiled, "be patient. We take the road in a little while, Daesûl and... Oswyn."

The harrier-mount pricked its ears and neighed loudly, seeming to approve the name its master had bestowed. And why not, it was a noble name and apt. Had Oswyn not carried Aodh to salvation? Aye so, into the arms of his dear wife.

Aodh lifted now a pot of pitch, a corked jug of oil and the clothing he’d worn atop the Tafelberg. He entered the cottage for the last time.

The lingering essence of The Dark Man found his nostrils, vying with the acrid smell of bone-dust embedded in the clothes he carried. The house was blighted, and would be for many years to come. Only when its foundations were broken and the earth seeded with salt would Fleðð’s stain be erased entirely.

Aodh made a quick search of each room, placing what little there was of worth into Goldwhæt's sea-chest and carried it into the kitchen. He sat upon the chest and made a smoke. He did not fire up his pipe, but left it dangling from his lip as he moved through each room dousing wall and furnishing with pitch.

Back At the kitchen table he set out his soiled garments and soaked them with oil. The fishy tang of linseed filled the room as he opened the door of the stove and laid a small fire.

It was done. He was done. Tendrils of white steam were already rising from the oily clothing.

Aodh clattered down the stairs, fastened the chest atop the mare's baggage, and untied the horses. They followed him in line as he walked out into the golden fields.

Behind him Aodh heard the hungry crackle of flames, and the groaning of ancient timbers. He did not look back, his time in the valley was done.

The chalk wall in the distance was stained amber in the dying light; he saw Eléowyn standing at the foot of the path that wound to a green forest high above the Vale. That way lay their future - Edoras, rest and peace.

Aodh smiled a broad smile, lifted his maimed hand in greeting, and hurried on to join his wife.

[Eléowyn]

The Dughlaich Homestead, Vale of Anduin

“I love thee as well,” Eléo replied when Aodh had at last spent his tears. She took the gunna from him, placed one hand on his cheek, kissed him, then strode toward the orchard and garden, whistling for Wulf to join her.

The trees were filled with a bounty of fruit, far more than she could ever gather to take with them. It felt wasteful, to leave so much behind; the apples would winter well in a cold cellar or could have been made into apple butter or cider. With no one tending them, the fruit would fall to the ground and rot there, if not found by the field mice or squirrels. She gathered enough for their journey homeward, with perhaps enough more for a cake or two, then ruefully moved to the garden.

There she found little that remained; most had been put into the stew Aodh had made for their earlier meal. There were a few summer squash, a handful of runner beans, as well as a smattering of pea pods that looked promising. All else lay rotting on the ground or had been sampled by the wildlife. From those remains, she was able to gather some seeds as Aodh had requested.

The herb and flower gardens were in better shape. Rosemary, parsley, thyme, sage, mint, among others, had flourished, and Eléo took out her knife and made copious cuttings of each in turn. The flower garden yielded marigold, violets, daisies, columbine, and cowslips, and more. There Eléo took only the dried heads from which she could extract the seeds.

As she worked, she reflected on all that had happened. She had been on the brink of losing Aodh, perhaps her own life as well. Together, they had been stronger than the evil they faced. Now they could, at last, journey homeward without fear, and live their lives in peace.

In peace … Eléo, who had been bent over making her cuttings, straightened her back at the thought. What would they do? After a lifetime of what must have seemed an unending quest, would Aodh be content to sit home? Would they be reduced to bickering over who left the jam out, or prattling on about who said what in the pub? She almost chuckled at the thought. No, she decided, they would find a new purpose in good time. Until then, for her part, she would be glad of well-earned peace.

She realized the gunna was filled, and she was eager to be on the road. With Wulf at her heels, she headed for the path’s edge where Aodh would meet her. She arrived just in time to see him emerge from the fields, with a line of horses following him. At his back, an angry orange light blazed. Eléo understood immediately what Aodh had been doing. Thus, in fire, a chapter in their life was ended.

She smiled in return, lifted her own hand, and waited for her husband.


@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill's family homestead, the Eastfold

The hælend watched the old wigend from the corner of her green eyes as they finished washing the dishes. It seemed a change had come over him, his smile broader now, his voice lighter in a way.

«Well then, any help is very much welcome! And the holbytla can rest and gather his strenght.» She hung the kitchen towel back in it's place, found a small blanket and gently placed it over the hobbit. Again, very softly, she felt the forehead for any signs of fever. The skin felt as it should, neither hot nor cold, not too dry or moist. Pleased with her patient she led the way out of the small cabin and into one of the smaller outhouses.

She found herself a dirty pinafore and tied over her dress. «I'm afraid I don't have anything to protect your clothes from the dirt, but here we have what we need to join the others.»

She took a fork from a hook on the wall and led the way out into the early autumn sunshine. They joined with the others outside, the children playing games of finding the biggest or the most potatoes while the hælend's father and brother dug and turned the earth to expose the potatoes. She put the fork firmly into the ground a little way from the potato plant, aiming for the perfect distance, not to close to risk ruining the potatoes, yet not so far as to give herself plenty of extra work «Now, Ælfred, will you tell me a little of yourself while we work or do you prefer silence?»

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Wold, west of Anduin :

The failing daylight slowed their way along the winding cliff path, but the Vale of the Great River lay at last behind the Hammerhelms. Aodh let Eléowyn lead their way, for he had come to Nadene’s croft along the river valley from Gondor, and was not familiar with the hill country they now found themselves in.

They travelled on into the night, in silence and with steady resolve, their way lit by a sliver of yellow moon. They made camp after several hours, but set no fire for the night was warm, even at altitude, and they were both too weary to gather wood or contemplate the making of a meal.

While Eléo prepared their bed Aodh tethered their horses. Gazing out over the bald, rolling hills he wondered where in the wide world Ringbold, Ælfred and Goldwhæt now lay their heads. His wife was already under blanket when he was done. He undressed and slipped in alongside her, kissing her shoulder as he closed his eyes.

The ground beneath him was hard and stony, but he was warm, alive and back where he belonged - with Eléowyn, his wife. Tomorrow night they might find themselves in a comfortable bed, with a roof overhead and a fire in the hearth, but where that would be was not certain. Tonight they would lie under starlight and wake together as the sun rose.

Aodh snuggled in closer to Eléo and lay his head upon her shoulder. Thankee-sai, Nadene, I shall never forget you, he whispered, as sleep took him.

--

The Eastfold: @Amadhrill's family homestead: : NPC: Ælfred the One-Eyed & Ringbold Took

The old wigend watched Ama cover Ringbold and smiled, as much at her tenderness as the peaceful look on his little friend’s face. He closed the cabin door behind him and followed the hæland into an outbuilding.

“Cry not your pardon. m’lady,” he said to Ama, taking up a long handled fork. “My clothes have travelled long roads, and need no protection.”

He smiled again as they reached the field. The entire family was at work with the harvest - even the children, and their laughter filled the evening air.

It had been many years since he had broken earth, save for the preparation of graves, and he watched Ama intently as she set her fork to work. He drew a breath and sunk the tines of his fork carefully into the earth beside a plant.

It was like riding a horse, he found, once done never forgotten, and he settled into a steady rhythm, humming to himself, as he brought the potatoes up from their hiding places.

“I prefer talk to silence,” he said, leaning on his fork as he looked over at Ama. “Though often it is hard to come by – talk I mean, not silence.

Aye, m’lady I would tell you of myself – but what would you hear tell? It is long and long since I've had the pleasure of a new companion… Be warned! My tongue might run on and on and prove more wearisome than the digging of aardappels.”

---
@Amadhrill & @Eléowyn

[Taethowen]

Taethowen (Private)
Edoras to Aldburg, along the Great West Road

Despite the bright, summer sun, the quiet rustle of the wind through tall, green grass--renewed by the rains that had followed the fires and the birds flitting through the air, chirping merrily whenever they discovered a seedhead on a stalk--Taeth couldn't shake the coldness that seemed to sink into her very bones.

Taeth had hoped not to make this journey alone. And she hadn't planned to make the journey at all with the weight of grief pressing into her soul with overbearing force.

This must be a dream, she thought numbly. All of it. They can't be gone. It must be some mistake.

She took a deep breath, wincing at the soreness of her throat. She honestly couldn't remember if she'd packed anything that might help soothe it. Plantain, she thought. I should watch for plantain to add the leaves to my water skin.

Taeth tried to focus on the horse beneath her. Gefyrst. This was the first chance she'd had to put the mare through her paces. The ride back to Edoras from the cavalry exercise where she'd reacquired the mare had not been suitable with the crowd of soldiers to really testing the horse's capabilities.

Today, with a proper saddle and the open road before them, she could do so. But it was hard to keep her mind focused on the present when her heart kept trying to pull her to the past. If it wasn't Frost, it was her mother and siblings. If it wasn't them, it was her father. How have I reached a point where I have no one? she thought, and silently urged Gefyrst into a gallop, letting the wind whip away her tears.

She'd left later in the day than she'd originally hoped. But she'd barely slept the night before, only managing to fall into a somewhat restful oblivion a few hours before dawn. There was no way she could make it all the way to the Aldburg in one shot now. If she'd still had Fyrgold--the mare she'd lost in Gondor all those years ago--she would have pushed harder than she dared now. But even then it would have been impossible to reach the fortress before dark.

Her quiet, desperate grief was not worth laming a mare as valuable as Gefryst. So Taeth paced herself, and Gefryst, and eventually found some solace in the solid thud, thud, thud of the mare's hooves against the road.

At least until nightfall.

Taeth was grateful for the drone of summer insects. They were enough of a cacaphony to drown out even her most pervasive, aching thoughts. But sadly, she discovered, they were not enough to stop the images which superimposed themselves in her mind every time she closed her eyes.

Of her family, trapped in the flames. And her knowledge of flames and their destruction was all too fresh in her mind after the Edoras fires. She yanked herself back to wakefulness, heart pounding desperately in her chest, every time she began to drift off into nightmares.

Taeth wasn't really sure if she slept at all that night or not, really. It was safer to stare at the sky and watch the stars pass by overhead.

It felt like an eternity before the eastern sky lightened.

She hurried through breakfast, and putting out the remaining coals from the fire she'd cooked dinner over the night before, before re-saddling Gefyrst as soon as it was light enough to travel.

Taeth once again found some measure of solace in Gefyrst's hoofbeats. In feeling the mare respond to her nudging and guidance. She would never be a proper Cavalry horse. She was too old to be trained for battle and Taeth wanted to get as many breeding years out of Gefyrst as she could if she could find a suitable stud, but until she could find a properly trained mount, Gefyrst would suffice.

It was still a few hours till dusk when they reached the Aldburg, and Taeth was grateful that all she'd needed to do was show her Marshal insignia to gain a room in the barracks for the night, and a stall in the stable for Gefyrst. She wasn't sure she was quite ready to stay at a proper inn yet, not after hearing how her family had passed.

Some of the commanders at the fortress had shown interest in her presence, wanting to take her around the keep and treat her to a meal, but fortunately they'd been respectful when Taeth explained that she was on personal leave and that she was in mourning.

She slept a little more that night, but only because the quiet chatter of a fortress that never quiet really slept helped her feel a little less alone.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Exitlude: Snowbourn to the Undeeps

The birds were many leagues east of their roosts, the rugged hills and stunted trees of the Lone Lands. The wood along the Snowbourn had been much to their liking; there were rich pickings to be had along the shaded river banks. But men had come, two on horseback and two on foot, and sent them on, drawn not by the changing seasons, but to something base and primal.

The cloud of Gorcrows winged east, changing course as it rose over the forbidding cliffs of Emyn Muil. North along the Great River the dark birds flew, toward the flat-topped hill that overlooked the Undeeps - toward the hill from whence their master’s call had rung. But here too were they thwarted! The summit was no longer a charnel house, a place of feasting, the sterile bowl had become green with new growth. A single red rose had taken root at its centre.

The carrion-fowl wheeled in confusion, croaked their frustration, then hurried away south along Anduin.

-----

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