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Evensong  by Rose Sared

Beta by the most efficient Theresa Green, thanks. Do go read her original fic in progress on fiction net – In Character – it is really good! Rose

Evensong 10

“Apart from the women and children, the inn was defended only by greybeards and striplings, Sire.”

Aragorn’s intent and silent regard made Earnulf want to report in a way that would make his old Captain proud. He shifted the position of his helmet a little; it felt ungainly under his arm.

He tried to summon the words that would make the scene he had witnessed in the village inn clear to his listener, but his attention was being compelled by the powerful interest of the man sitting in front of him, wiping the words from his tongue. He swallowed.

Aragorn blinked and turned to the side, casting around his tent for second before locating the water jug on his campaign chest. He waved at Earnulf.

“Please, be at ease Captain, put that helmet down. Drink lad, and collect your thoughts.  There is no present threat?”

Aragorn’s regard caught Earnulf again and the young man froze, and then shook his head.

Aragorn subsided again.

“Dervoron has posted sentries, Sire, and remains down in the village with my men. I came to report and to ask you to send some more soldiers and healers, if you will.There are five men of the village who lay injured, one is the brother of the innkeep’s daughter I spoke of, Oda.”

Aragorn looked at the jug; Earnulf filled a beaker and gulped, his throat felt as if it was lined with sand. Aragorn pointed to a folding camp chair, which Earnulf eyed warily before lowering himself into it. It creaked but held his weight. Aragorn’s eye twinkled a little and a faint smile lit his face, and then he leaned forward.

“Tell me the rest of the tale, Captain. What woe has befallen Crossbourne and taken the men from the village?”

0000

Oda followed Earnulf into the taproom. Esgarth slipped in behind them. Earnulf was greeted by a line of pitchforks and mattocks wielded by an unconvincing but determined straggle of elderly men and weedy boys. The urchin nearest him wobbled as the weight of the mallet he had swung up threatened to overtop him.

“Nay, he is friend!” Oda spoke firmly, and Earnulf put his hand to the hammerhead to steady it, and then settled the weapon more firmly into the boy’s grasp.

“There, lad, you have done bravely.”

Earnulf flicked his professional gaze around the crowded room. A murmur of fear and discontent was swelling after the frozen silence that had held sway. One child grizzled, two more started up in sympathy in different parts of the room. People were packed in like kine , women and grandmothers sheltering children of all ages. A fire burned strongly in the grate, adding to the close fug. Strained and weary faces turned towards the soldiers like flowers to the sun.

“Will you reassure them, Captain?” Oda waved her hands, indicating the crowd and the rising level of noise.

Earnulf cleared his throat and the room fell silent but for the complaint of the very young.

“People of Crossbourne. I represent King Elfwine and my eored is with me, guarding the inn as I speak. King Elessar, of Gondor, camps even now on the cliff-top yonder. He has the royal guard with him, we will protect you.” A rumble of relief swept the crowd.

“Where were you over the last sennight, then? To protect us from those monsters?” A woman’s shrill complaint rose over the general noise. “Our men, farmers all, have had to do your job. Where were you when my Gareth was felled?”

The complainer stepped sideways so that Earnulf could see a line of wounded lying like so many logs in front of the hearth. Earnulf moved forward to see and Oda restrained him with one hand on his arm.

“Peace, Haldis. Should we spurn help now it has arrived? Save your breath for your man. He will live where others have not. Is it safe for these to return to their homes for the night, Captain? Will your forces protect us?”

“Gladly, but from what are we guarding you? My men can find no peril threatening this eve?”

A collective in drawing of breath ended in silence, Earnulf found himself the centre of what felt like a hundred dark eyes.

“Orcs.” Oda stated ominously into the quiet. The fretful baby started up again, and the whole village seemed to nod in unison, then turn to packing up. Leaving Earnulf gaping at the woman beside him in disbelief.

“Orcs, madam. Are you sure? There have been no orcs sighted in Rohan for eighty years.”

Oda simply looked at him, and then turned and led him through the crowded room and out into the stable yard. She collected a torch from the wall and moved over to the far side. There, by the dung heap, lay a de-capitated corpse. Earnulf had never seen an orc before, but there was not much doubt that this used to be one.

Oda spoke into his stunned silence. “My brother, Turpin, whose wits are not great but is as brave as a bull, killed this with a scythe and then dragged it back here before he succumbed to his wounds. He lies yonder, with some of the others who saw it and then went out after them.” Oda waved at the inn.

0000

In the royal tent Earnulf wrenched his eyes from his fists that had knotted themselves together on his lap, and managed to meet the king’s appalled expression. Steeling himself he continued.

“Oda spoke of a great disturbance in the dead of the night, ten days ago. All the village dogs went wild, baying and calling and the farm animals were crying and stampeding in the fields and byres. The farmers ventured out, with pitchforks and such back up as could be mustered, but it was not until morning that the tracks were found. Some hard-shod company had travelled down the bank of the Snowbourne, raiding and butchering stock as they went, but never pausing, the track led arrow straight towards Meduseld, and the mountains.”

Earnulf gazed into the flame that danced in Aragorn’s oil-lamp, then looked again to the king.

“Last night they returned. This time they moved slower. They were driving some great creatures in the darkest part of the night; the women could hear bestial shouts and the sound of whips. The men of Crossbourne secured their families and then rode out to defend their farms and their lives with what weapons they could cobble together. It seems that the party did no more than brush past them as if they were annoying insects. The orcs drove their charges northwest, swatting aside all that sought to oppose them. In the morning the villagers found the ground fouled and churned, littered with the bones of beasts that must have been eaten raw, and whilst travelling.They found these also, as well as the corpse Turpin brought back.” Earnulf pulled a linen bound package from his back and fished two objects out of it.

Aragorn took them and turned them over in his hands, his face reflecting his extreme disquiet. The king looked at a broken iron-bound shoe and the curved and notched end of a crude blade.

“Yrch!” he spat the Silvan word with loathing.

Aragorn dropped the things on the floor, unconsciously wiping his hands on his thighs, as if their very presence defiled him. Then he sprang to his feet and started pacing furiously. Earnulf also rose politely, and then subsided as the king waved him back into his chair with barely concealed irritation.

“Duilin!”

The king’s guard stuck his head and most of his body into the tent, weapon loosened already and scanning for threat, as if Earnulf may have run mad and threatened his liege. Aragorn sighed and waved the man into a remotely easier stance in a sequence that was obviously practiced for both of them.

“Duilin, take six men and reinforce Dervoron’s positions around Crossbourne, warn the men that orcs have been sighted in the area. Oh, and Duilin,” the guard turned back to his king. “Send Sarthor, the healer, and his helpers down to the village. Let them earn their keep for a change.”

“Aye, Sire, it shall be so.” Duilin seemed completely unfazed by the nature of the king’s orders. Earnulf wished, fleetingly, for such a control over his imagination.

Aragorn turned back to Earnulf. “The men of the village rode after them today, and have yet to return?”

“They hoped to retrieve the best part of their herds, Sire.”

“Foolishness,” snapped the king, rubbing his hand over his head. “Earnulf, did you spy the lords Legolas or Gimli in the camp when you rode up?”

Earnulf opened his mouth to reply, only to gape as the elf slipped into the tent silently, as if the mention of his name had called him up.

“Aragorn?” Legolas’ soft query elicited a satisfying jump from his friend the king, who turned and glared at him. Aragorn pointed at the discarded lumps of iron on the floor.

“Orcs, Legolas. Can you believe it? After all this time our old enemy dares to break the peace. Look.”

Now it was the elf’s turn to look stunned. He moved further into the tent and poked at the broken bits with the toe of his shoe. “Where?”

“Under our very noses.”

Aragorn swept Anduril off its stand and buckled the sword on. Then he went to the door flap and pushed his way out. The elf followed and Earnulf was left in the deserted tent. He prised himself out of the chair and re-wrapped the orc rubbish, before following his commander outside.

0000

The grey wash of dawn had barely silvered the Snowbourne as the elf, with the dwarf riding pillion as ever, the wizard and the king let their horses pick their careful way down the same cart track Earnulf had ridden so cheerfully last evening. It felt as if a whole age of men had passed in the night, so different was the feeling of the day.

Earnulf was happy to see that the farmhouses they passed on the way to Crossbourne had smoke rising from their chimneys. Farm folk rose early and milch cows were already lowing at the farm gates, ready to be milked.

Earnulf nodded to his men as he passed those stationed as sentries - he knew more were strung around the village in a great arc.

The elf raised himself slightly to see something further down stream. “Dervoron returns, Aragorn, escorting a party of men and beasts.”

The king grunted as if it still felt it a personal affront that orcs had trespassed on these lands.

“Earnulf,” Aragorn called the Captain to his side. “ Make sure these men are rotated each four hours during daylight. I want no tired soldiers tonight guarding these folk and their animals.”

Earnulf saluted and cantered off to speak to Esgarth.

Aragorn’s party rode through the waking village. A few people emerged into the street and one young man started a cheer that ran raggedly up the street for the king.

“Blessings on you.” A young woman waved from her doorway and threw a scatter of flowers at the party.

Aragorn nodded at her, smiling gravely but he did not stop, trotting through the village and out on to the greenway that bordered the river, beside the wharf that held the ferry.

Aragorn indicated the untouched series of tracks leading to and from the south.

“Shall we?”

The four of them rode alongside the obvious trail. The soil was furrowed and muddied, as if heavy weights had been dragged up the valley.

Aragorn dismounted and handed his horse into the care of his guards. Radagast did likewise whilst Legolas swung Gimli down and then spoke to Ascallon. The white horse flicked an ear at the elf and wandered off after the other two horses.

“Legolas.” Radagast had crossed the mud, and after squinting up and down the river for a moment was scrambling up the bank to examine the willows. ”Come here will you?”

Legolas shared a wry look with Aragorn and then ran lightly over to see what the wizard wanted.

Aragorn stooped and then picked a set of prints and followed them for some distance; Gimli followed him and then stopped a little way back from where Aragorn finished his tracking.

Aragorn raised his voice a little so the dwarf would hear. “Some great beast passed this way, two legged - see, but massive.”

Aragorn stooped lower then turned his face away from the soil, his nose wrinkling. “Phaugh, whatever it is it fouls the very earth it walks on.”

The king stood again, mostly to remove his nose to a more respectable distance from the stinking ground, and then looked around for confirmation of his findings from the dwarf, Aragorn’ eyes widened in concern.

Gimli stood on the track behind him, unmoving, so still he could have been a carved image, a god of nature perhaps. His face was a waxen mask of distress, and Aragorn saw a great shudder shake his sturdy frame.

“Gimli?”

Gimli stirred and looked at the king out of eyes that were dark pits. “Give me a moment, lad.”

The dwarf turned away from the river like a sleepwalker, and took three careful steps onto the unsullied grass that faced the green fields.

Aragorn moved quickly to his side, raising an urgent hand as he went to beckon Legolas over.

“What can you tell me?” Aragorn asked, as Gimli squared his shoulders and turned towards him, his feelings no longer quite so stark on his face.

Legolas arrived at their side, exchanged a questioning look with Aragorn, and then looked for an answer to his friend, concern filling his expression.

Gimli looked at the elf, then jerked his head at the tracks.

“You will know, Legolas. Inhale, what does that smell say to you?”

Legolas sniffed, and then stared at the churned ground, astonished.

“Cave trolls?’

Gimli nodded, grim.

“Aye, I am not likely to forget that stench in this life.” He shuddered again and once more turned his gaze away from the broken earth to look over the clean farmland. “The orcs went to fetch cave trolls, Aragorn, but why? That is the question, why?”

TBC

Rose Sared

 





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