Orcs and Babes.

Framhelm quickly lit a small fire as far from his house as possible and engulfed the ‘trophy’ within its flames, riding his holding of such an obscene relic. He stared into the distance seeming in a trance while the fire consumed it, then turned sharply as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looked down to see his wife, Ferthwyn, by his side. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, knowing full well why she had come to him.

Framhelm had been a young boy, when orcs attacked the small village where he lived. His father had the hindsight to hide his only child and wife, before he and all others in the village were tortured and slain. When the orcs discovered Framhelm’s mother they had crowed with glee on finding more sport, and commenced to pull her from her place of concealment. She had quickly embraced Framhelm and pulled the side-knife she carried to put to the throat of her beloved son. The orcs, on noticing that their quarry would soon be lost to them, fired an arrow killing her outright. Before the enemy could get their hands on the young boy, the timely arrival of Eomunds father, Deor, with many riders at his command, thundered into the village to the dismay of the orcs and all were destroyed. Deor had taken the small shocked Framhelm back to the Aldburg and delivered him to his aunt and uncle to be raised and loved as their own.

Memories, long since hidden and pushed back into the recesses of his mind, had come rushing back with a vengeance as he entered the barn and saw what his youngest was holding aloft. Framhelm had been a rider in his youth, he rode on many patrols and had slain orcs in abundance, the two elder of his sons doing likewise and he had been most proud of their prowess …until now that is.

Ferthwyn caressed her husband’s face gently, “He is but a child, husband, you will be not too harsh with him? She asked, knowing her husband well, but worried for the safety of her youngest.

“Aye, wife,” he sighed, “I hear you, but punishment shall not go un-noticed this day after these doings, come, let’s to the house and deal with it. Methinks we will be seeing the Marshal anon.” He kissed his wife gently to reassure her he would not be too aggressive in doling out retribution on his son’s, and they walked slowly side by side into the house.

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Eomund paused by the stables, pondering his next move. His young son was no-where in the house or its vicinity, nor any where near the stables; the stables being the next most beloved place of his four year old, after his home. ‘Where in the name of his Forefathers could he be’ he thought angrily and not a little anxious for his safety.

He decided to walk further into the town, hoping to see his son or else ask any as to his whereabouts. Eomund strode forward on his long legs, anger building, anger and deep disappointment, he had thought he had drilled some basic simple rules into his young son.

Eomund had not gone far when he noticed Breddar approaching from the west of town. He let out the deep breath he had not realized he had been holding when he saw his errant son being firmly escorted by the rider.

As they drew level with Eomund, Breddar stopped suddenly, causing Eomer to almost loose his footing. He had been dragging his feet, not wanting to reach home any sooner than necessary, and his sight was rather diminished by the huge tears that flowed unchecked down his face. He sniffed despondently and looked upwards as to the reason of the sudden halt, only to see standing before him the towering large frame of his father, his face a mask of anger.

This caused Eomer to suddenly burst into the most piteous sobs, which initially softened the heart of the Marshal. He was so relieved to see his son safe that he wanted no more than to fiercely embrace him, but on noticing the grave expression of his rider, he realized that some mischief had been committed this day.

“What is all this, Breddar?” Eomund asked a little anxiously, fearing his son may have taken some hurt.

Breddar gave a short bow to his Marshal, “Lord Eomund, I saw your son leave with the youngest of Framhelm, and followed to see what they were about.”

“And…” said Eomund.

“It would seem, Lord, that following his latest patrol, Darthmund brought home a ..shall we say…orc helmet and occupant, to show to his younger brother, a sight of which he was to show in turn to..” he looked down at Eomer.

“Eorl’s balls,” exclaimed Eomund with loud fervour, running his fingers through his hair as he was want to do when angry. He was about to march to the holding of Framhelm to vent his spleen there and then on the man, but the cries and sobs of his young stopped him. He reached down, lifted and held Eomer tightly within his arms to comfort him, he realized that his son had had fright enough this day, there would be time for explanations and recriminations later, when his son was calmer and more at peace.

“Sorry..Papa….Sorry…Papa…” Eomer gasped between breaths as his tears were still in full flow.

“Hush, little one, no one will harm you, hush, hush,” he whispered back in turn.

“Framhelm sends notice that he is to deal with son’s, lord,” stated Breddar. “I would suppose you would see him anon?”

“Aye, Breddar, but not before I settle this tearful one with his Mama,” he replied,” I wouldst not add to his distress with harsh words… just yet…they can wait.” He smiled grimly, rubbing Eomer’s back gently, as his tears were still rife. “I wouldst thank you for your intervention, it is noted.”

Breddar brushed off his Marshal’s thanks, it was duty of love in which Breddar served his lord.

The two Rhorririm went their separate ways, Breddar back to the stables to check his horse and continue his work, and Eomund, still toting his distraught son, to seek his wife ere he paid Framhelm a visit.

Theodwyn was awake and sewing in her chambers, Eowyn being deftly rocked as she worked, one stockinged foot resting gently on the rim of the cradle. She looked up with a smile as she heard the approaching footfall of her husband, then suddenly she stood up and dropped her needlework as she heard the sobs of distress coming from her son.

As Eomund opened the door Theodwyn rushed to his side, her voice shaky and tears already forming in her dark eyes.

“Eomer..is he harmed, my love…is he hurt…” she gasped, holding her arms open to receive his sobbing form, kissing him lightly and whispering words of love to him.

“Nay, wife, he is not harmed any, I will explain when he is settled more, he has had a fright though, and took himself off from his home without thought to inform any. Of that we shall have words….the morrow will be soon enough.” Eomund added.

Eomund left his wife to comfort Eomer and left his halls to visit Framhelm, seeking answers to his many questions. He was angry, with Eomer for leaving the safety of his home, with Darthmund for bringing such a trophy back to the Aldburg and also to a lesser degree, with Mathelm, for seeking to educate his youngling in such a way. Even Framhelm, came under Eomunds scrutiny for giving Eomer a scare, although he had to admit that was his Paternal side speaking and not because he was Marshal and Lord over all who dwelt in the East Mark

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As Framhelm opened the door to his large house all the siblings jumped to their feet in apprehension. He walked into the kitchen and stood by the fire, looking at each of his children in turn, Ferthwyn by his side.

“Wife,” he spoke gently, “Take Framwyn and Breawyn to their chambers,” he nodded in the direction of his two daughters. Ferthwyn left the room, with an arm round each, pausing to look back anxiously at her husband, Framhelm walked to the door and closed it behind them, but not before he had gently squeezed one of his wife’s hands, as if to reassure her he would not be too harsh.

Mathelm was huddled close to his brothers, trembling with dreadful anticipation. Darthmund felt bold enough to speak first, “Father, by your leave, please blame and punish me, for this is my folly only. I ne’er thought any harm would come of this.” Framhelm sat down wearily, he was a fair man and loved his family deeply, “Then what did you think would come of this?” he asked eventually.

“Father?”

“ I would hear an explanation of these deeds, is it not enough to know that these creatures dwell upon our lands, than you must needs bring them to your home, to my home.” Framhelm stood up and started to walk about, “What if your Mother or sisters should have happened on it?”

“We had it well concealed,” piped Mathelm, of a sudden.

“Of that I have no doubt, else the stench would have travelled for miles ere today.” Framhelm bellowed back, causing his youngest to tears. “I know not what Lord Eomund will have to say, I should warn you that I expect him at any time.”

This news caused the two older brothers much anxiety, Darthmund and Freamer, were both riders in the marshals Eored. It was bad enough to face the wrath of their father, but Eomund was a different matter entirely. Of all the children in Aldburg, it would be the young son of the Marshal that Mathelm had chanced upon to show his gift to.

“Father,” Darthmund ventured, pausing to gulp when the cold stare of Framhelm fell upon him, “We would ask your forgiveness and seek to apologize to Lord Eomund, if you will accept it?”

Darthmund looked at his son’s, pausing to speak to Freamer, “Dids’t you know also of this prank?”

Freamer hung his head, “Yes Father, we were…..”

A sudden loud knocking on the door of his house startled everyone. Framhelm rose to answer and the brothers looked at each other with dread when they heard their father’s voice, “Lord Eomund, please enter, my son’s await within.” He bowed slightly to his Leader and opened the door to where six pairs of eyes watched as the large, powerful Marshal entered the room and cast his steely glare on the guilty trio.

TBC