6: Bones of Prophecy
Warning: A tale is told to Aragorn that is rather gruesome and some readers might find it disturbing. The tale is not in itself true, but it is believed by many in Rohan to be true.
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Aldburg was older than Edoras, having originally been the capital of the country under Eorl the Young. It was also smaller, barely a village. It sat within a fold of the land against the foothills with the mountains overshadowing it. Its outer walls were made of wood and there was only one gate that stood open, as was custom, with the dawn.
Thengel arrived an hour after the nooning and his coming was unlooked for, for Thengel refused to allow his mother’s messenger to ride ahead, much to the man’s dismay. So it was that the guards at the gate were taken by surprise at the sight of the king’s éored riding towards them, the king’s standard — a white horse upon a green field — flapping in the afternoon breeze. Men scrambled onto the walls of the palisade and horns were sounded, to be answered by the horn blown by Grammund, riding beside his lord. The éored slowed before the gate and the gate-keepers saluted.
"Westu, Thengel Cyning, hál!" one of them said and Thengel nodded, giving the man a smile.
"Greetings, Éowulf," Thengel said as he dismounted and gave the man a fierce hug. "Glad I am to see you again."
"No more glad than I, lord, to look upon your countenance once more," the younger man exclaimed with a laugh. "But why did you not send word, my king? Or has the message gone astray in these darkening times?"
"Nay, good Éowulf," Thengel replied. "Neither message nor messenger went astray, for I sent none. I decided to pay my mother a surprise visit."
"Then it is you who will be surprised, lord," Éowulf said, now looking nervous and uncertain.
Thengel stared at the younger Rohir with consternation. "What mean you, my friend? Has aught happened to my mother since she sent me her messenger?"
"Nay, lord," Éowulf said, looking uncomfortable. "Éolind Cyninge is not here, is all I meant. She left yestermorn."
Thengel frowned. "Where went she then? She has not my leave to depart from Aldburg."
"I know not, lord," the gate-guard said unhappily. "You had best speak to Erkenbard."
Thengel nodded, reining in his rising anger, for in truth Éowulf was not at fault. "I will do that, my friend." He turned to his men and gave orders for the éored to disperse to the barracks to rest. "Thorongil, come with me," he said, speaking in Sindarin. Grammund followed the king as well, and Thengel did not deny him, indeed, it would have been impossible to do so. As one of Thengel’s two personal guards (the other was Éoward), it was his responsibility to remain beside his king at all times when on duty.
Aragorn dismounted and spoke softly to Mithfaron who followed the éored. The other men were well used to the Dúnadan’s strange ways with animals by now and accepted (with some reluctance on the part of many) that his horse would not be touched by any save his master.
Thengel began striding through the one street which Aldburg could boast, wending its way up a small incline to where the royal residence stood. It was, Aragorn saw, much smaller and not as ornate as Meduseld, yet it was easily the largest building in the town. Aragorn could see that Aldburg was a thriving community. The people were well clothed and the markets were busy. Those who were about in the midafternoon recognized their king and gave him brief bows and greetings, which Thengel returned with warmth. Many stared at the young dark-haired Dúnadan, assuming him to be a Standlending from Mundburg. The presence of a scion of the sea-kings of old was rare enough in these days to cause the common folk to pause and wonder. Aragorn ignored the stares, or tried to.
Thengel cast him a sidewise glance and smiled. "They are good people, Thorongil. They are just not used to seeing other than their own amongst them."
"I know, lord," Aragorn replied quietly, remembering to speak in Sindarin. "Perhaps a day will come when the children of Rohan and the children of Gondor will play together and none will think it strange."
Thengel nodded. "It will be as the Valar will, my son, but it is a good dream nonetheless and I pray that that day will be soon. Ah, here we are." Thengel paused and the two other men stopped. He gave Grammund a knowing look and the retainer nodded almost imperceptibly. Then the king turned to Aragorn. "Erkenbard is my mother’s seneschal, but more importantly, he is my spymaster here in Aldburg. If aught happens and you cannot find me or Grammund, come to Erkenbard."
Aragorn nodded but said nothing and then the three of them were entering the royal residence where a man of middle years stood waiting for them. He was easily the tallest man among the Rohirrim Aragorn had seen, though he was still several inches shorter than Aragorn himself. His fair hair was braided and his beard and mustaches were full. His eyes were bright with humor and wit and he spoke to Thengel as if to a brother or cousin.
"Your lady mother has flown the coop, gilda," Erkenbard said without preamble and with a wry smile.
"And you did not attempt to stop her, nýdmæg?" Thengel countered with no little heat.
Erkenbard did not flinch, but held up his hand. "Peace, Cousin. She has flown, but not far and I hold yet the jess."
Thengel raised an eyebrow at that. "Indeed. Then you had best tell me what has chanced here. I enjoy a hunt as well as the next man, Erkenbard, but I do not fancy hunting for my mother."
"Come, then, Highness," the seneschal said with a brief bow. "Let us find a flagon of ale and I will tell all."
The king’s residence here in Aldburg was not dissimilar in design to Meduseld. There was a central hall with a large firepit in the center. A small dais against one wall held a single chair of bog oak ornately carved with figures of horses. On the back was a carved depiction of Eorl the Young riding to the rescue of Cirion of Gondor during the fateful battle of the Field of Celebrant, nearly five hundred years earlier. Erkenbard led the king past the throne to another door that led to the royal quarters. Down one hall and then another he led them until they reached a small room that was obviously the seneschal’s own chamber.
Papers were strewn about and Erkenbard took several minutes attempting to straighten the mess with an embarrassed half-muttered apology, which Thengel dismissed with a wave of a hand and a smile. "Peace, Erkenbard. Truly it is of no import. We will sit on the floor if need be rather than disturb the order of your demesne. No doubt you have everything where you can easily find it and I would be loath to be the one who makes you go hunting needlessly."
Erkenbard gave the king a sour grin. "Now you mock me, my lord."
"Nay, good my cousin, I would never dare, for you know all my secrets," Thengel said with a laugh and Erkenbard allowed himself a wider smile as he handed his master a flagon of ale, which Thengel accepted before he sat in the chair that the seneschal offered him. Grammund stood by the door on duty while Aragorn found a seat in the embrasure, thus allowing him the chance to look out the window to the town below. Up til then the king and the seneschal had spoken in Rohirric, but now Thengel switched to Westron.
"Thorongil speaks not our tongue, Erkenbard, so we will do him the courtesy of speaking in Westron instead."
Erkenbard bowed to the king and then to Aragorn. "As you wish, Thengel King. But I know somewhat of Sindarin as well. Would it not be more prudent to speak in that language instead."
"More prudent, yes," Thengel agreed with a nod, "but that will leave Grammund out and he must needs hear what is said. I would weary of having to translate later and will save myself the need."
"Then Westron it is."
"So tell me, oh huntsmaster, where has my mother flown, who has not my permission to leave Aldburg?"
"She has taken herself to Dúnælfenedale."
"What?" Thengel stood up in surprise. "What in the name of Béma is she doing there?"
Aragorn gave them a puzzled look. "Dúnælfenedale? Where is that?"
Thengel turned to the Dúnadan. "It is a small steading that lies four leagues from here, closer to the mountains, hence its name. The place has a sinister history."
"How so, my lord?" Aragorn asked, clearly confused. The steading’s name — ‘Mountain-Elf’s dale’ — was in itself interesting, though he pretended ignorance of its meaning. He knew that many Elves fleeing Lórien from the depredations of Durin's Bane let loose in Moria had fled southward over the Ered Nimrais to seek the grey ships of Edhellond and wondered what tales from that time had inspired the naming of this particular dale.
It was Erkenbard who answered. "In the time of Folcwine, Dúnælfenedale was a prosperous steading for all that it lay near the mountains, for the land is not very arable, though sheep like it. At that time, Folcwine’s wife, Grimhild, was abiding here in Aldburg, for she was with child and the children of the king are oft times born in Aldburg, the ancient seat of our people."
"My grandmother was pregnant with my father, in fact," Thengel interrupted with a cold look.
Erkenbard nodded and continued. "One day, a bone-thrower came to Aldburg and threw the bones for Grimhild at her insistence, wishing to know the future for her unborn child...."
"What does fate have in store for my child?" Grimhild demanded of the wizened hag who crouched before her. "Do I bear another son for my lord?"
The hag threw the bones and gave the queen a piercing look that Grimhild found difficult to return. The old woman was cloaked in rags and her grey hair hung in straggling locks, dirty and unkempt. Her eyes were unclouded, though, and a dark blue like a mountain tarn, deep and fathomless. Grimhild did not like looking in them.
The bone-thrower stared at the bones for a moment and then looked up and gave the queen a near toothless smile that was not pleasant to see and Grimhild shivered in spite of herself. "The bones reveal all, lady," she said in a screeching voice, dry as leather. "Here they say that the child thou bearest will be a son, to replace the ones who shall die."
"What?" Grimhild rose from her seat in disbelief. "What mean you, hag? My Lifgetwinnan are strong and hale, having reached their twelfth year. How will they die and when?"
"The bones say not, lady," the old woman answered. "They say only that this one who even now grows large in thy belly will replace the two whose hearts beat as one. It is just as well, for which will rule and which will follow elsewise? Nay, better they die and there be no contention for the crown, heh?"
The old hag gave a shrieking laugh and Grimhild went white. "Why should I sacrifice my beloved twins to one yet unborn? Folcred will rule for he is firstborn. Fastred loves his brother too much to give him grief and will follow him willingly."
"Follow him to death, will he or nill he," the hag replied coldly. "The bones do not lie, lady. The child thou bearest will supplant his brothers."
Grimhild sat stiffly and thought deeply for a time. Finally she said, "If this be the fate of my children, I will not stand in the way of their destinies. Tell me, grandmother, how best I can assure my unborn son will be great in the annals of our people."
The old woman threw the bones again and looked up. "The son of his father is not the son of his mother. Go thou to the Elf’s hold in the mountains. There is a spring whose waters are said to have been bespelled by the Ælfcynn. Drink thou from this spring and thy son will know greatness. Have a care to come there only when the moon is full."
It was no difficulty to ascertain the location of the Elf’s hold, for Dúnælfenedale was well-known and the legends surrounding it the source of great amusement in the telling of them in nursery and hall. Grimhild dismissed the old woman and set about determining the next full moon, which would be in one week’s time. Thus, she made her arrangements, telling her husband that she wished to visit her sister in Brandingsdale and have the babe there. Folcwine was loath to let her go, but she was adamant and in truth the time of her confinement was not yet upon her, though it would be soon.
So, she went, but not to Brandingsdale, which lay to the east, but towards the mountains, telling her escort that she wished to visit the steading at Dúnælfenedale first. The escort was loath to allow this but Grimhild had long been queen and knew well how to cow those who lived on sufferance of her whims, for she was haughty and even cruel in the use of her servants, though Folcwine knew this not.
They reached the steading and the queen demanded of its people shelter for the night. "For I am weary and I would have rest."
Those of the steading had no choice and thus were forced to provide sustenance for the queen and her escort. As they supped, Grimhild enquired after the spring. "For I have heard tales of this wondrous spring and desire to drink from it this night," she said and the lord of the steading, one Elfnoth, looked upon her in dismay.
"My lady, I beg thee not to seek this spring which doth indeed flow nearby, for the Fair Folk will come this night and dance upon the green and it is not seemly for Mortals to look upon their countenances."
Grimhild gave Elfnoth an imperious look. "I am queen of Rohan. What care I for these sorcerous sprites who dare to come without permission of my lord to abide here? I wish to see this spring for myself."
"Then thou must needs seek it alone, lady, for I will not escort thee there," Elfnoth replied coldly. "None of my household will. The Fair Folk forbid it and we will not gainsay them."
Then Grimhild was wroth and, picking up a knife, grabbed Elfnoth’s young son, a lad of seven, and held the knife to his throat. "Lead me to the spring, ceorl, or your son’s blood will water the ground."
Elfnoth paled at that but would not yield. "Slay my son, lady, if thou wilt. Better he die than betray oaths ancient and binding unto my household since the days of Eorl. Better we all die."
"Then die you shall," said the queen and with that she cut the boy’s throat to the horror of all. At once those of the steading sought to take up arms but Grimhild’s escort slew them first, seeking to protect their queen as was their duty, little though they liked it. Only two survived the slaughter, a babe and his sister who fled to the spring and hid there.
Grimhild then went forth and ordered her men to find the spring, which one did in due time. By now it was full dark and the stars were shining remorselessly upon the blood-stained steading and the moon had risen, full and bright. Grimhild ordered her men away from the spring and went alone to sip from its waters. There was none else about the spring which sat in a dell surrounded by mountain holly and oak. The queen knelt to drink and suddenly the light of the moon darkened even as she took her first sip. Looking up, she beheld a dire sight: the moon was blood-red and standing nearby was one who shone with a silvery light.
Terrible in its awful beauty was the countenance of the one who stood there, cold and unforgiving. His eyes were dark yet flamed with fire that pierced her to the very core of her being and she trembled before one whom she thought must be an Elf-lord.
"Thou hast committed murder this night, child of Eorl," the Being said, his voice as cold as ice from the mountains. "And this deed was unlawful, whether of Middangeard or not of Middangeard. Thou hast sought for thy unborn son greatness, but he will know only ignominy and thou shalt be remembered not in the annals of thy people."
Then the Elf-lord, if such he be, was gone and the moon was no longer stained. Grimhild stared about in fear and then the pangs of childbirth came upon her, though it was betimes for her laying in, and she fled back to the steading to where her maid awaited her. The men, meanwhile, had set fire to the steading to hide all evidence of their deeds.
Grimhild gave birth to her son, whom she named Fengel. When morning came she rode away from Dúnælfenedale, swearing her escort to secrecy. Dúnælfenedale remained empty and haunted from that day hence....
Aragorn stared at Erkenbard and Thengel in amazement. "Surely that tale cannot be true, my lord. And if your grandmother’s escort was sworn to secrecy, how is it the tale is known?"
Thengel grimaced and gave a short laugh. "The daughter of the steading who survived the slaughter of course."
"Was there truly a slaughter, then?" Aragorn asked in some confusion.
"Oh yes," Erkenbrand said, his eyes lit with dark amusement. "Though it is doubtful the deed was done by any of the Rohirrim, nor did the slaughter occur in Folcwine’s day, but in the days of his father, Folca. Orcs most likely did the deed and the two who survived were found by the éored that pursued them."
Thengel shifted in his chair. "My father was greatly hated. It stands to reason that stories would arise to explain his... evil. Many remembered the destruction of Dúnælfenedale, though the reason for it had been forgotten. My grandmother, it appears, was also not well-liked, for she was high-tempered and cruel at times." He gave the Dúnadan a wry look. "I suspect that as my father’s depredations continued, this particular story began making the rounds of taverns and steadings alike."
"And the Elf-lord?" Aragorn asked skeptically.
Thengel shrugged. "An interesting twist to the story, think you not?"
Aragorn looked thoughtful and wondered at the truth of the tale but came to no conclusions. He looked up at the two men sitting there sipping their ale. "What has all this have to do with Queen Éolind going there?"
Thengel’s expression darkened and his voice grew cold. "That is what I intend to find out."
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All words and phrases are Rohirric (Anglo-Saxon) unless otherwise noted.
Westu, Thengel Cyning, hál!: "May you be healthy, Thengel King".
Gilda: (masculine) Member of a brotherhood of related persons. Erkenbard has been a member of Thengel’s household since the king’s return to Rohan.
Nýdmæg: (masculine) Cousin, near kinsman, blood-relation. In this case, Erkenbard son of Erkenwulf is related to Thengel as a distant cousin through his father’s mother’s family. Thengel calling him this rather than the more formal and impersonal gilda shows how he views their relationship. The feminine counterpart would be nýdmæge.
Jess: A short strap fastened around the leg of a hawk or other bird used in falconry, to which a leash may be fastened.
Lifgetwinnan: Twins (masculine plural). Folcred and Fastred were the twin sons (born 2858) of Folcwine. They both died on the Pelennor in a battle between Gondor and Harad in 2885.
Ælfcynn: Elf-kind, elven race.
Ceorl: a freeman of the lowest class and therefore the word is an insult to Elfnoth who was a thegn and thus considered noble. Elfnoth means "Elf-courage". Ceorl is pronounced "churl".
Middangeard: Middle-earth.
Note: Folcwine lived from 2830-2903. Fengel was born in 2870. Folcwine’s wife’s name and the events surrounding Fengel’s birth are non-canonical. The story Erkenbard relates to Aragorn is obviously untrue and an example of folklore that has entered into the consciousness of the people to explain why Fengel was so unlike his forebears in temperament.