The Shadow over Rhudaur Part II. Intrigues and Sorcery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Northeast of Cameth Brin, early afternoon of October 21, 1347
Written by Rian and Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Go on," Callon whispered to Caelen, who was staring at Eryndil, who was staring at ... well, it looked like he was staring at the road they were planning on taking that morning, but who knows? If only we could see what a person is staring at inside their mind ... surely it would be more interesting than that quiet road was this bright morning.

Caelen bit her lip ("Stop that!" whispered Callon - it was a bad habit she had, and their mother had often tried to break her of it) and walked resolutely towards Eryndil, Callon following close behind her.

"Excuse me," said a soft voice behind Eryndil, but he was already turning around - with the reflexes of a man used to surviving in the wilderness, he had heard and felt their approach before Caelen had spoken.

"Yes?" said Eryndil gently, with an encouraging smile. Since they had left the safety of Eryndil's father's home, where Caelen and his younger sister had gotten along famously, whispering and giggling and playing outrageous tricks on their long-suffering brothers, Eryndil had noticed Caelen regressing back to how she was after the attack on the road and her mistreatment by the brigands. And he noticed the worried furrow returning to Callon's face when he looked at her.

Caelen bit her lip again, took a deep breath, and continued. "I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to grant me a boon I would ask of you," she said, looking up at him tentatively, glad that her brother was near her - she had not had much interaction with men outside of her family in her short life, and so far, the men had not made a good showing. But in the days after their rescue by Eryndil, he and his men had done a great deal towards improving the average, and Caelen had a feeling that perhaps - just perhaps - she might be reconciled to the sex one day.

Eryndil bowed. "If it is within my power, I would gladly grant you what you would ask," he answered graciously.

"It's this," she said simply, opening her hand to disclose a broach. "It's a broach of mine ... would you please take it ... as a gift ... I mean, for all your kindness to us ... I ... I really want to give it to you ... please take it," was the somewhat incoherent request.

Eryndil bent down to look at the broach, moving slowly so as not to startle her. Even so, he noticed with sorrow that she drew back from him just a bit.

"It is lovely indeed," he said with admiration, and it was - the head and arched neck of a stallion worked three-dimensionally in gold, against a silver mesh background dotted with a few tiny golden elanor blossoms. He was just opening his mouth to state his polite refusal - he had just been doing his duty, after all - when Caelen spoke again.

"And look!" said Caelen, forgetting her reticence in her excitement to show a secret. "It opens," she said, smiling up conspiratorily at him, and with a quick movement of her fingers, the horse's head swung up on a small hinge, displaying a small cavity underneath.

"Isn't that fun?" she demanded, holding it up to him and waiting impatiently for his admiration of her gift. Eryndil took it carefully and looked at it more closely. The workmanship was exquisite - the horse, worked in a slightly abstract mode, looked as if he had just paused for an instant before galloping off again - the artist truly knew horses and how to portray a figure in motion.

"We used to put all sorts of things in there when we played "Rangers and Princesses" growing up - pretend jewels, coded messages, mysterious poisons ... you know!" She turned her head to look at her brother. "And Callon would put a spider in there whenever he got mad at me!" she finished, with a glare at Callon.

Callon smiled at the memory, and then laughed as Eryndil pretended to shake something out of the broach and then jump back in fear before smashing it with his boot.

"Guess there was one left in there still!" laughed Callon, as Caelen shook her head at them with her hands on her hips. But she was laughing, too.

"I thank you very much, but I'm afraid there might be more spiders in there - you'd better take it back!" he said, offering it back to her with a wink. But Caelen put her hands behind her back and looked up at him stubbornly.

Eryndil grew serious. "Seriously - I thank you very much - it is an exquisite piece, and very interesting, and I appreciate the heart behind it - but I was only doing my duty. This is a lovely family piece, and you should keep it. I am glad that I was able to restore it to you."

Caelen's expression grew more stubborn, and then suddenly softened. "But I want you to have it," she said plaintively. "If you hadn't come along, it would have been gone forever. And we would have been dead!"

Or worse, thought both Callon and Eryndil grimly, looking at the lovely young lady with the morning sun shining on her red-gold hair.

Eryndil was not quite sure what to say. He didn't like taking things for having performed his due service. But she was so insistent. Then a thought struck him. He smiled and bowed as he said, "This is such a princely gift that surely you must be wandering royalty in disguise, generously bestowing your favors abroad." Eryndil hoped his acting hadn't sounded too ridiculous - Callon had walked over to get the horses. "But here, that you may have a token yourself...please take this in exchange."

And he reached into his pouch and brought out a small wooden object. He had intended it for Hendegil, and having not yet finished, had hoped to give it to her this Yule - but maybe now he could make her something else.

"It's not finished, and it's not really that good," he said, holding it out to her. "But at times on watch in the forests, I have time to carve little trinkets. This is one of three goats," and he wished intensely that he had carved a horse instead. Still, Caelen leaned in close, curious, and saw a large goat in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones - all a little box-shaped or stubby.

"You see, there's a fable I was told as a child, of three such goats who defeated a troll. Why - there's an inn up north, near the bridge where this tale is set - the inn is named for these goats. Anyway, not as lovely as horses, and you can't ride them - but goats are more sure-footed on the hills of Rhudaur. To our family, they're a sign of good luck!" He stopped there, unwilling to tell her where the gift was originally to be bestowed.

As Caelen's face lit up and she took his crude carving, some strange thoughts began to pass through Eryndil's mind. And he realized how they had been playing around the edges of his mind for some time, as he gazed on her bright smile, her gray eyes, her auburn hair... that lovely form. And she seemed like a sensible girl, as girls went. It didn't hurt that she had become such quick friends with Hendegil.

His new position with the King would keep him busy - but should also provide him with enough to make a keeping of his own. And Caelen and her brother were going to the same town. But no - best not get attached so quickly. The girl had been through so much, and had indicated no special favor toward Eryndil.

Except for her gift of course - and his gaze dropped to where he held it in his hand. But then, realizing how long he had stood unmoving, he slowly set it into his pouch and offered to help Caelen onto her horse, which Callon had just brought up behind her. For the time had come to be parted.

Eryndil waved his farewell to Callon and Caelen as they headed back onto the road toward Cameth Brin. The brother and sister should be alright the rest of the way. This stretch of road was well-traveled, and might be about the safest in all Rhudaur (if that was saying much), so they should soon be in town, only two leagues (six miles) away. It was better this way too. Riding in with just his own men, straight to the palace and an audience with King Tarnendur would send a stronger, clearer message than if he had extraneous companions along. And Eryndil suspected the King wanted a strong, clear message to be sent by his arrival.

His father had managed fifteen horses for them, which left a couple for baggage. The Thane had twelve of his own that were fit for the road, and had rented out three more from one of his householders. Once he reached town, Eryndil hoped to send as many back as he could. Could he keep four? Six?

They had started early in the morning of the 17th. His mind drifted back to the partings and the farewells – and the handsome tunic that Hendegil had made with her own hands and given him to wear “in town”. He would wait until tomorrow to put it on – so it was clean and unsullied for his arrival.

They had made reasonable time, all things considered. Eight or ten leagues (24 or 30 miles) per day was not the speed of a messenger though. If his men were all trained to the saddle, they’d have easily reached Cameth Brin the day before, but the stops worked better for a five-day trip anyway. And the way was hilly. He had broken up the riding for his men by spells of walking in the mid-morning and mid-afternoon. Callon and Caelen had chafed somewhat at the slow travel – so it was all the better that they go on ahead now.

Their first night out they had stayed at an inn on the outskirts of Penmorva, where there was still some to-do about an execution there just over a week before. On the 18th they made it to the Crossroads Inn. The 19th was the only night they had to sleep in the open. There had been a guardhouse within reach, but Eryndil wouldn’t risk it, with young Caelen along, so they went off the road a bit and found a secluded place to camp. Last night, the 20th, they made it all the way to River Crossings, and today could have easily reached Cameth Brin. He was a full three days ahead of the due date by his orders.

But Eryndil knew that his men were not used to the saddle. Resting tonight would let them arrive fresher the next day. But it was Gwaerod’s horse losing a shoe that decided him. There was a smith here in the little town of Riverside who could do the job nicely.

First, the Inn. Around the remoter parts of the Kingdom, Eryndil was known and liked by the various innkeepers. They knew they wouldn’t get trouble from his men – and would likely keep trouble away. So – they let them stay at little or no cost. But here, so close to Cameth Brin, it wasn’t going to be the case. Still, the price surprised him.

“Ha-penny each to putchee up fer the night – Ah can get the lot o’ ya intuh two rooms. Three-quarter penny, and yee’ll get supper tonight – what comes with one ale, and breakfast tomorrer, with coffee.”

Eryndil knew the moneybag was running low, but he agreed. So he had Ivanarth count out the nine silver pennies and the coppers to reach the total. They had just spent almost two pennies at the same place - The Riverside Inn, to get a midday meal for fifteen – counting Callon and Caelen. Good enough fare, and plenty of it – and served outdoors under a shady oak. Well – just one more thing to settle up, then his spending should be done until they reached Cameth Brin. And the smith’s work shouldn’t be more than a few coppers.

He motioned for Ivarnarth to follow, and called for Gwaerod to leave his seat, grab his horse and come along to the blacksmith. He couldn’t help but notice that Gwaerod, Gwiroth and Lothrond had met an old friend from town who was passing through the other way. He smiled to think that these three, who had grown up in Tanoth Brin and had been the most useless of his men in the forest, might be the most valuable to him on this new assignment.


***

The first several miles had gone well - no, more than that, they had been downright pleasant. A fine autumn morning, the two of them on their horses - Callon felt like maybe adventures weren't all bad after all. And perhaps they would find their aunt and uncle and cousins soon - the few inquiries they had made so far hadn't yielded any information, but Callon was still hopeful. From what he had remembered from so long ago, they were somewhere north of Cameth Brin, so maybe when they got there (or the town below it, Tanoth Brin or something like that) they would find out more.

He glanced over at his sister, and she looked back and smiled. She looked rather odd in that jacket of his that he had made her put on - Eryndil had said that this stretch of road was much safer, but after their recent misadventure, Callon felt that taking a little extra precaution never hurt, and the jacket helped to blur her form and hide her nice riding suit. There wasn't much he could do about her hair, though, short of cutting it off. She had tied it back and tucked it inside the jacket at first, but it was just too irritating to her that way, and now it was back outside of the jacket and gleaming in the sun.

"Come on, Cal, let's run!"

Callon answered with a yell to his gelding, urging it into a brisk gallop, and Caelen was right behind him with her mare, who was tossing her head and whisking her tail, saying "it's about TIME!" about as clearly as a horse could say it. They let the horses have their heads for a while, then pulled them down into a walk on a quiet stretch of road, shaded by some tall trees.

Callon reached down to pat his horse's neck. "Good fella," he said. "You liked that, didn't you?" He sat back up and surveyed the view, a wary look replacing the relaxed expression that had been there just a moment ago.

He stole a look at his sister, who was sweet-talking to her mare. "I have GOT to get her married off, I've just GOT to get her married!" thought Callon. "I just CAN'T keep her riding around like this!" His eyes narrowed as he looked at her critically. "Nice hair, good complexion, good teeth, moves well, strong ..." He stopped abruptly as he realized he was evaluating his sister as he would a mare that he was thinking of purchasing. He shook his head. "This trip has been too long!" he thought with grim humor.

Caelen turned to say something to him and stopped short as she saw his expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked him apprehensively.

"Oh, nothing - I was just keeping an eye on things, that's all - Eryndil said this bit of road was safe, but ..." He shrugged, not quite sure how much to say, not wanting to frighten her. How could he say what he was really thinking? "I just don't want you to get brutalized and almost killed again," probably wouldn't be the best thing to say right now, he thought sadly, looking at her innocent, young face with the large, fearful eyes. He had failed her - he hadn't taken care of her, and it was gnawing at him.

Caelen took a deep breath. "It wasn't your fault, Callon," she said firmly.

"I was supposed to take care of you, and I didn't do it."

"We were outnumbered, Callon - you did the best you could - the best ANYONE could have EVER done. If anything, it's my fault - you told me to ride away, but ... I just couldn't leave you, I couldn't ..."

Callon said nothing, and Caelen rode up next to him and put a hand on her brother's arm.

"It took Eryndil and what? 8 men? to save us. There's no way you could overcome all those men by yourself! Now stop punishing yourself!" she said firmly.

"Eryndil," Callon thought pensively, "Eryndil ... he would make a good husband ... " He searched his memory for any signs of interest that Eryndil had shown towards his sister, but couldn't remember anything, and Caelen had certainly not shown any interest in Eryndil - the only males that his sister was interested in had four legs. She was so young ...

Caelen noted with satisfaction that Callon's expression had changed to a more thoughtful one after she mentioned Eryndil and his men. "I hope he'll stop berating himself now!" she thought to herself. "There's nothing he could have done..."

They rode on in silence, and soon came upon the town of Tanoth Brin. As they came into town, Callon looked around in shock. Vacant houses overrun by wandering poultry and pigs, squalor hand-in-hand with run-down finery, and worst of all, Hillmen everywhere. He looked over at his sister and saw his emotions mirrored in her face, with the added element of fear whenever groups of Hillmen would pause and stare at her. Then he saw her clench her jaw and lift her chin and look straight ahead. He felt proud of her for her fighting attitude, but he also felt sorrow for her loss of innocence. The world nowadays was apparently not what either one of them had once thought it was, sheltered in the protected haven of their parents' homestead.

They both breathed a sigh of relief as they passed out through the city gates, but they weren't away from people yet, for before them, on both sides of the sharply rising road, was a makeshift town. Tents dotted the hillside; people and animals moved about; the smoke from campfires rose into the clean air, obscuring the view of Cameth Brin which rose before them. Callon looked around, puzzled - Eryndil hadn't described this to him. But it looked peaceful enough, and surely this close to the town behind them and to the king's residence in front of them, there wouldn't be any trouble.

Nevertheless, Callon turned to his sister, saying, "Tuck your hair in your jacket, Caelie," and she quickly complied.

They kept up a brisk walk by unspoken agreement, and they soon reached the encampment.

Try as they might to be inconspicuous, they stood out like two sore thumbs. Their clothes, their horses, their gear, their skill at riding - everything marked them as privileged Dunedain. And Caelen's unruly hair was working its way out of the jacket, too; curling tendrils were blowing in the breeze, catching the sunlight.

The people, however, made no motion towards them, much to Callon's relief. Most people ignored them; some looked up with a grunt and returned to what they were doing.

They were almost through when they had to pull up for a large group of men lugging some sacks across the road, groaning and complaining. Callon quickly glanced around in a feigned unconcerned manner for the best path through if the men decided to block the road against them, when he heard a voice that was burned into his memory.

"Look what we got here, Griss - some old friends of ours, come just in time to help us!"

Callon's head whipped back towards the men, and was shocked to recognize two of the men from the band that waylaid them on the road.

The dirty Hillman started to make a move towards the riders, but was held back by the man next to him.

"You lazy lout!" said the man. "You know what the Jarl said - we gotta behave ourselves ... for now, at least. Get back to work!" he commanded, and then, turning with mock politeness to Callon and Caelen, indicated that they could pass.

"I'd rather have my hands on her than on these bags, " grumbled Heggr, as his eyes followed Caelen hungrily.

Callon would have liked nothing better than to run his sword through both of them right then and there, but there were just too many of them, and only one of him - they had to move on, and now, before the mood of the men changed. Caelen's eyes were large with fear, but she held her head up and her hands were steady as she moved past the group.

"Come back and visit us again, honey - we'll show you a good time!" they shouted after her, along with other, less-polite comments.

"I have GOT to get her married!" thought Callon desperately, biting his lip till the blood came.