CHAPTER 35

The travellers stayed with Beorhthelm’s family for two more days, except for Leodwald, who had left immediately after they all had dined the day they arrived. The family made sure they had plenty of provisions, and were sorely sorry to see them all finally leave.

But it was time to get back on the road, as all realized they had been delayed long enough.

Freddy was glad to be once more on the way. They would be nearing the Gap of Rohan in only a week, and it would be another five or six days beyond that until they arrived at Edoras. Soon he would be doing what he had left the Shire to do: represent his people before the Kings of the South. He was thinking over the various things he had gleaned, from Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and from the Men with whom he travelled. Frodo had been quite confident that Éomer would be fair and just with Clovis and Cado, and that he would find a punishment worthy of their treachery while yet being something that hobbits could live with. They had felt equally certain of the justice that Clodio and Dago would find before King Elessar. He glanced over at the various prisoners. Clodio was riding with Danulf today. They never allowed Clovis or Cado to ride with the Man they had injured.

Clodio slumped before the Man, feeling wearier than ever. The stop at the homestead of that farming family had been a pleasant respite, and he was sorry they were on the way again. He felt heavily that every step forward was taking him to a fate he could not begin to understand. While travelling with these Men had shown him that they were not the sort of stupid and brutish Ruffians that Lotho had dealt with, he still found himself rather appalled at the ease with which they carried their weapons, and their rather light talk of battles and killing they’d seen. This Man he rode with was the one his sons had struck down. Would he demand some sort of harsh penalty for the injury they had caused him?

Why on earth had Clovis thought his rash action would be of help? Clodio sighed. He knew that it was Clovis who’d initiated the vandalism, who had thrown the stone that struck the Man. Cado never thought of things like that on his own. But he’d never gainsaid his brother, either.

Not until now. Not until it was too late to help.

He felt a deep despair come over him. Clovis had been only too willing to run off with Dago and leave his father and brother behind. His older son thought of himself even before ties of family--something that ran counter to hobbit nature.said a small voice in his head, one he had not heard in many years before he found himself on this horrible journey. But since leaving the Shire he’d heard it more and more.

And where did he come by such an attitude?There was no turning off that voice now. It was true. Clodio had always found himself jealous of his younger sister; she had an easy way with people that he’d envied. And then she’d attached herself to Paladin Took. At the time, Clodio had thought her a fool--most hobbits at that time still thought Ferumbras would probably wed and sire an heir, and Paladin, while prosperous would be nought more than a farmer--though one with the Took name. Time had proven him wrong, and Paladin *had* become Thain, but what had raised Clodio’s hackles was the knowledge that to Eglantine that had never even entered the equation. She’d never cared about her husband’s position.

Where did he learn his contempt for his aunt, and his cousin? And how far is that from contempt for his own father and brother?

He had himself thought to court Primrose Took. She was several years older than he, but still very attractive. It would have brought him into the Took family, after all. But she seemed not to understand his hints, and he couldn’t bring himself to be bolder, and press his courtship. He was already in love with Beryl, and finally had admitted to himself that he could not see himself truly wed with another.

And yet, when he and Beryl *had* wed, he’d often wondered--if it had not been for her, perhaps he *could* have married into the Thain’s family, and he sometimes found himself resenting her.

He realized now how appallingly he’d treated her over the years. It was no wonder she had not chosen to accompany him into exile. The truth was, she was better off without him.No, no he couldn’t blame her. He’d no life left now. He glanced over to where his younger son was riding with Borondir. Perhaps Cado would not be punished as harshly as Clovis; after all, he had not attempted escape.

Yes, she is. And do you blame her?

He glanced further up the line to where Fredegar Bolger and Berilac Brandybuck rode close to the captains. He wondered what they were talking about.

“How long, Éothain, will it take Leodwald to reach the King?” Freddy asked.

“He will ride swiftly, though I do not believe he will ride without stopping. Still he should be there within three to four days. As he left two days ago, he could be there as soon as tomorrow. But it will take us at least another ten days to arrive.”

Freddy was quiet for a few moments, and then asked, “What do you think the King will do with--with the two younger ones?”

Éothain’s brows arched in surprise. If he were not mistaken, it sounded as though Master Fredegar had been about to speak their names. But he did not say anything about that, instead replying, “I do not know the exact penalty he will seek. But he will set a weregild. It will be a greater amount than would be usual, since Danulf was on an official embassy, and was representing his King.”

Freddy looked troubled. “But those two have no money. They are still not of age, and all their father’s property was forfeit to the remaining Bankses, since he was Banished.”

Éothain nodded. “That is sometimes the case. If an offender has no money or property to recompense his victim, he is usually sentenced to a period of servitude. In the case of a murder, it could be the rest of his life, but in a case of injury, it depends on the circumstances. Danulf recovered quickly, and normally I should say his attackers would only have to serve a year or less. But as I said, their offense was also against the King. It could be a good deal longer.”

“What kind of servitude?” asked Freddy. He’d heard of slavery--how the Men of the far off lands to the South and East would sometimes buy and sell other people.

“As a rule the offender spends the time doing menial tasks. He is not confined nor chained as long as there are no attempts to escape.”

“And if there are?”

“Then measures are taken to ensure that the lawbreaker cannot do so.”

Freddy looked thoughtful, and fell silent.

Berilac had been silent, listening to Freddy and É othain, and he knew that Freddy wondered what those measures might be, as did he. But they were hesitant to ask--not sure they wanted to know the reasons. And Berilac knew also why Freddy did not ask. He was sure his friend was remembering his time in the Lockholes. No hobbit should ever have to be locked up that way, away from sunlight and fresh air and other hobbits. Both of them dreaded the idea that might be the fate in store for the captives. And yet they deserved to be punished.

He sighed. Life had been much easier when all the Shirefolk had to do was banish their wrongdoers. But as Frodo, Merry and Pippin had frequently pointed out, all that did was foist their problems on the rest of the world.

Dropping back, he let himself fall alongside Mistress Poppy and Viola. Viola favored him with a dimpled smile, and he put aside his thoughts of what might happen to the prisoners. The two rode side by side, in a happy silence, observed with fond amusement by Viola’s mistress.

Mistress Poppy shook her head, and chuckled. More and more, she was pleased with the idea that her apprentice looked to be making a match with young Berilac. While it was unusual for healers to wed, it was not unheard of. Her dear friend Lavender Bunce had a very happy marriage. And Berilac was a Brandybuck, a clan well-known for thinking things through and making very thorough plans. True, they also had a reputation for wildness, but some of that was overstated. Much of it simply had to do with living on the other side of the River.

She cast an eye over the rest of her travelling companions. She was keeping an eagle eye on young Bergil, for she was unsure as to how well he would do riding all day, so soon after his illness. She would not have been as worried about a young hobbit of the equivalent age, but she had noticed that Men did not seem quite so resilient as hobbits. She recalled young Peregrin telling her how surprised at the rate of his recovery the King had been. Still, so far Bergil did not seem to be faltering, and if he should show signs of weariness, she’d very soon be calling the company to a halt. Right now he was riding alongside Legolas and Gimli, laughing with them over some tale they were telling him, each of them interrupting the other with droll insults.

Further up, she glanced at the criminals, each riding with a different Man. The older brother and the one from Hardbottle were quiet and subdued, as they had been since they had failed to escape. She saw the scowls they cast from time to time at various members of the company--but the glances they shot in the Elf’s direction were filled with not only malice but fear. Once the Elf allowed himself to meet the eyes of the one from Hardbottle, who paled and turned away quickly. Legolas’ lips twitched in amusement, before he returned to his three way conversation with Gimli and Bergil.

She looked at the younger of the brothers, who rode with Anwynd today. He seemed to be more or less resigned, except when he looked at his father, when his gaze would grow troubled.

The father. He’d already been falling into melancholy before the escape attempt, and since he had realized that his older son had been perfectly willing to abandon him, he seemed to have gone from melancholy to despair. She was not happy with his pallor, and she feared that his health was deteriorating. Still, there was not much she could do about it at the moment except to watch him closely.

Her stomach gave a rumble, and she reached into her saddlebag for one of the cheese pastries the farm family had given them. Elevenses. She looked up at the sky. At least another hour, or maybe two, until they stopped for luncheon. How she missed a civilized meal schedule.

She caught the eye of her cousin Mosco. The two of them were doing the cooking duties today, and thanks to their stop at the farm, they would be able to put forth a fairly substantial repast for luncheon. There was a cabbage and some apples they could chop into a slaw, and bread, smoked meat and cheese to make sandwiches. Perhaps they could fry up some potatoes as well.

Mosco smiled at his Aunt Poppy. He knew she must be thinking of lunch.

He had to admit, it wasn’t far from his mind as well. They spoken briefly at breakfast, so he knew they’d be making slaw and sandwiches. Perhaps they could fry some taters, too. And there was a box of eggs packed in straw. Maybe they could boil some--after all, they would not keep forever in this heat. He wondered when the captains would call a halt for lunch.

Targon and Éothain exchanged a look. They had noticed most of the hobbits taking food from their saddlebags.

“ ‘Elevenses’!” chuckled Éothain.

Targon smiled. “It’s still a bit early to stop.” He glanced at the sky. “Another hour of riding I think, and then we will halt for luncheon.”

Éothain nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

The Gondorian looked at his companion. “Do you really think that Leodwald will arrive so soon in Edoras?”

“Yes, I do. He should already be through the Gap of Rohan by now.”

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Leodwald pulled up, and gave his mount a fond pat on the neck. “You’ve done well, Grishild. The Gap is behind us now--do you know, I think you may sleep in a stable at Meduseld ere sunset tomorrow.