The Shadow over Rhudaur Part II. Intrigues and Sorcery.

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Cameth Brin, the Main Hall of the Tower, Evening of October 19, 1347.
Written by Elfhild, Serenoli, Gordis,
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Tarniel watched the trick bear in fascination, clapping her hands as he danced, though she was glad Daurendil was sitting beside her. But then her excitement turned to horror, as suddenly two hounds charged forward and attacked the bear.

Screaming, Tarniel looked wildly about the scene of chaos. Gimilbeth was shouting out orders, which Daurendil refused to obey. Angered, she stormed off into the crowd. At the other end of the table, Amantir was dragging a protesting Odaragariel away. A riot of confusion all about them, the King and Queen watched in dismay all that was transpiring.

Before Tarniel realized what had happened, Daurendil left his seat and disappeared somewhere in the crowd. "Where did he go?" she asked her father.

"I do not know..." The king shook his head, feeling old and helpless.

But Tarniel was already upon her feet, dashing off into the crowd. The sounds of people screaming, the roaring of the bear and the barking of the dog filled her ears, and she dodged out of the way of panicked men and women who were trying to flee from the chamber. She wished that her brother had not abandoned her. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Daurendil, but she saw instead Odaragariel approaching.

"Odare!" she gasped. "What are you doing here? I thought Amantir was taking you to someplace safe!"

Odaragariel shrugged, "Well, he tried. I knew Daurendil mightn't be so kind, so," she dodged as a burly man came hurtling their way, "I thought I'd get you. Come on!"

She grabbed Tarniel, and turned towards the entrance to the hall. but at that moment, a wave of people, repulsed by the sealed doors, pushed them back. A fire started somewhere in the hall, there was more screaming, a stampede in progress, and all Odare could do was hold on to Tarniel and steer her as best as she could to a corner.

The crowd seemed to pass; for a few moments, they ran unimpeded, but Tarniel was suddenly rooted to the spot, her wide eyes riveted to where Broggha and Daurendil fought. She screamed as the hillman bodily picked her brother up, and threw him away, but it was lost in the chaos of the hall. Odare, her fine robe now torn in places, and her jewels hanging lopsided in her hair, pulled her again, now frantic to be gone, when a roar issued from behind them. The bear was almost upon them.

At this point, Odare did something stupid.

Instead of running away as fast as she could, she lost her head altogether, and attacked the bear with her puny little decorative curved dagger. Her desperation gave her some strength, and the dagger penetrated the bear's hide, but no more; it gave yet another roar, this time echoing through the hall. It pulled at the dagger, and in the process managed to knock down several tables with an almighty crash; and then it turned to the two frightened, and by now, completely paralysed princesses. It lifted a paw, and slashed out, but already the second hound was upon it; true to its training of protecting humans, it sank its teeth into the bear's left leg just in time and the bear only grazed Odare's left arm.

The next moment, Amantir and the bodyguards all seemed to catch up to them at once, and Odare, with a sigh of relief, let herself be carried out of the hall, bleeding profusely and whimpering in pain, and her only regret was that she had managed to lose Tarniel's emerald necklace in all the rush.

***

Meanwhile, Hurgon had put on his best robes; i.e. the only ones without paint on them. He had brushed his hair, but paintbrushes tend to mess up hair, so he left it at that. Carrying a bottle of red wine under his arm, and with a huge smile hitched on place, he was ready for the feast.

He was a bit late, but no matter. He knew the back door to the hall, the one so conveniently hidden behind a curtain. He would just slip in, find a seat, and no one would be the wiser.

He jauntily made his way, pulled the curtain free, and strode in. Someone collided with him; he was pushed back onto the wall and his bottle crashed, the wine drenching him. "Hey!" he protested, "that's my only clean robe!" but the man had discovered the hidden door.

"Come this way, there's a door!" he shouted, and before Hurgon knew what was happening, he was crushed into the wall by the hundreds of eager, desperate people trying to escape. He recognised the two Princesses, one of them being supported between others, and bleeding. He bowed to them in the crowd, and a harassed-looking guard escorting them saw the wine-stains on his yellow robes.

"I suppose you have been attacking bears as well! Better get you fixed up." And with that, he hauled Hurgon bodily back through the very door he had just entered through, ignoring completely the meek protests of the bewildered painter, for they sounded too much like painful groans to him.

***

Her eyes fixed upon the movements of the two fighters, Tarniel watched in horror as Broggha strove with her brother and his comrades. And then danger was behind her, the bear's earth-shaking roar bellowing out like a blast from a massive horn. Before she could comprehend clearly all that was happening, Odaragariel flew by her in a rush, attacking the bear like a madwoman. Tarniel's screams joined the hound's vicious growling as the wounded bear struck out at Odaragariel's arm.

And then the danger passed as Amantir and the guards rushed forward and pulled Odaragariel out of harm's way. Picking up her skirts, Tarniel dashed behind the men as they carried a bleeding Odaragariel away. Oh, she was bleeding! How badly was she hurt? Tarniel was filled with fear for the other girl.

As the men hurried towards the door, a flood of people pouring in behind them, Tarniel caught sight of Hurgon Fernik, pressed up against the wall. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw that his chest and stomach were covered with a gruesome-looking splash of red. One of the guards seized the dazed man and pulled him along. Tarniel thought she could hear the painter groaning as if in pain, and she flinched in fear. How had Hurgon gotten wounded? Maybe one of the hillmen stabbed him in the stomach; if so, alas! he was doomed for sure.

Almost out of her wits with fear and worry, Tarniel wished that the men would hurry up and expedite Odaragariel and Hurgon to the healers. She felt her heart palpitate when her thoughts returned to Daurendil back in the hall fighting with that giant of a man. She could not rush back to find out what was going on; if she did, surely she would be crushed beneath the feet of the crowd. Saying a silent prayer for Daurendil's safety, she then turned her attention back to Odaragariel and the bewildered painter, whom she thought was grievously wounded, but in truth, was not really hurt at all.

***

Once inside the Tower, Algeirr and Gudhrun found a nice place on the pedestal of a statue and watched first the bear tricks, then the fight. When the fire started, Gudhrun was one of the first to panic and bolted for the doors, leaving Algeirr behind.

Algeirr hardly turned his head. He remained where he was, his eyes alight at the possibility of looting the hall where so many nobles wore priceless jewellery. Soon he left his perch and, mixing with the crowd, he was able to cut away a brooch and a rich string of pearls, not counting a golden earring which he tore off a fainted woman lying on the floor.

But Tulkar was smiling at him this evening. Algeirr almost reached a small door leading out of the hall, when a tall obese Tark noble knocked him down. When Algeirr tried to get back on his feet, his fingers closed on something lying on the floor. It felt like a necklace, so the mercenary lost no time slipping it into his pocket.

Soon, concealed in a quiet corner behind the tower, Algeirr watched in awe and rapture as the moonlight glistened and reflected in the thousand facets of emeralds of Odaragaiel’s necklace.

***

Fuming after the confrontation with her silly brother, Gimilbeth struggled through the crowd trying to pick her way to the outer doors. As she found out shortly afterwards, the exit from the hall had been solidly blocked. Some of the guests were striving to get out, while the crowd gathered just beyond the open doors to watch the performance was now streaming in, attracted by the shouts, roars of the bear and general confusion.

Someone had knocked down one of the tall candle-holders in the middle of the Hall and it fell on the noble’s feasting table. The table cloth ignited and the flames ran along the table. Women screamed and rushed to the doors. Now Gimilbeth couldn’t return back; she was jammed in the panicky crowd in the semidarkness illuminated by the ominous glow of the spreading fire.

She was taller than most and this advantage allowed her to breathe and to see what was happening. The others were less fortunate and started to suffocate. Someone was crawling underfoot screaming pitifully. Men were using their elbows to get through; some women fainted and fell to the floor to be trampled.

Gimilbeth saw Gwindor making his way to her and sighed in relief. Her faithful knight was almost at her side, when a burly Hillman stinking of sweat pushed him aside. Infuriated, Gwindor punched him in the face. Cursing obscenely, the man and his comrade, who happened to be nearby, both obviously Broggha’s cut-throats, drew their knives.

Gwindor had a dagger as well, a long, gleaming Numenorean blade. The crowd, frightened even more by the impending fight, somehow made way for them, pushing Gimilbeth away from her rescuer toward the wall. Gimilbeth collided with someone with a force that drove all the air from her lungs. She hissed like an angry cat and turned to face the offender, only to see a half-fainted young woman who slumped against the wall breathing in painful gasps.

The girl’s face was so ashen that Gimilbeth recognised her only when she met her grey, pain-filled eyes. It was Aewen, Broggha’s "ward", in her high-necked gown, now torn at the seam of the right sleeve.

Gimilbeth’s heart raced. She would have given anything for a private talk with this girl…

Standing on tiptoe, Gimilbeth scanned the hall. Broggha had a broadsword in his hands now, his brigands were assembled around him. Someone was lying on the floor at his feet. The two men who were escorting Aewen to the doors were busy slashing at Gwindor with their knives and parrying his expert thrusts.

Nobody looked at the girl. Without a by-your-leave, Gimilbeth dragged Aewen to her feet and propelled her a short way along the wall into a recess, where a small door led to a stair. The girl muttered something, pleading or protesting, but Gimilbeth paid it no heed and dragged the girl up the winding stair to Daurendil’s rooms.

***

"Bjarki! The Tark is not worth fighting! Let us get out of here!" the smaller man cried.

"This pig struck me and then insulted my honor!" The big hillman's right eye was beginning to swell from the blow that Gwindor had struck him in the eye. Squinting slightly, he moved in, trying to land a blow to Gwindor's chest, but the other man was quicker.

Bjarki yelped in pain as Gwindor's dagger sliced through his tunic and into his forearm. Taking advantage of Gwindor's slight turn to the left, Forni rushed in, but Gwindor quickly parried his blow. Forni's courage failed him, but not his cunning. Bringing his knee up, he thrust it savagely into Gwindor's groin.

"I have settled the score! Let's get out of here now!" Forni shouted as he watched Gwindor double up in pain.

"Stay out of my business, Forni! You have settled nothing!" the bigger man raged. Wincing at using his wounded arm, Bjarki pulled Gwindor up by his tunic and plummeted blow after blow in his face. Laughing, he then let the battered man sink to the floor. "Now we leave!"

***

Smiling placidly, King Tarnendur had seemed almost dazed throughout the chaos that had reigned in the hall. "Why is Queen Eilinel screaming?" he wondered idly.

"My lord," he heard the alarmed tone in her voice as she tugged gently at his sleeve, "are you quite well?"

"Certainly! Why would you think that I was not?" he replied churlishly.

"The dogs have attacked the bear and driven him mad in his fury! Are you not aware of this, my lord?" she asked timorously. The king had not seemed himself early in the evening, and as the night had progressed, he had become... what could she say in all kindness?... Strange, as though some spell had been placed upon him.

"Of course, I was aware of it, but I thought the bear's handler could bring the beast under control. Since it is obvious that he cannot, where are the guards?"

"I am not quite sure," she replied almost absentmindedly, for her attention was riveted on Prince Daurendil, Nauremir, and some of the prince's friends. "My lord!" she exclaimed, gasping as she placed her hand over her mouth in alarm. "They are fighting, and that beast Broggha has taken up your family's ancestral sword!"

Pushing his chair back, the King rose to his feet and moved towards the scene of the fighting. He was too late! Daurendil was down with a wound to his head and that giant had overturned the table and hurled it upon the men, knocking them down. The room was filling with smoke, and the king could hear Queen Eilinel coughing.

His son was trapped under the table! Summoning all his strength, he lifted the table, tumbling it over and burning his hands in the process. He found his son unconscious. Nauremir lay by his side, coughing and choking. Bending down, King Tarnendur picked his son up and slung him over his shoulder. The exertion made his head swim dizzily. One of the other young men who had been trapped under the table was rising on shaky legs.

"Get the queen out of here!" the king shouted as he stumbled to the door that the guards had at last cleared.

***

The fortress guard had worked frantically to aid the injured who had blocked the main exit. First the captain had to issue orders to forbid any from entering the hall except for the soldiers. It took a few cracked heads to persuade the idle curiosity-seekers that the hall was no place for them.

Now the corridor was completely cleared of the injured, and the guard advanced into the hall itself. Partway down the corridor, they met King Tarnendur, an injured Nauremir, and one other young buck.

"Your Majesty!" the captain exclaimed "Your son..." He turned to another guard. "Assist the king!"

"No, attend to Nauremir," the King commanded. "I will get my son to his room. Find the queen and tell her what has transpired!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the captain bowed. He was relieved that he could attend to the disaster in the hall. When he and the other guards rushed into the hall, they found that the room was filled with smoke. The men had brought leather pails of water with them and quickly doused the fire, leaving nothing more than a pungent odor and a vaporous trail of smoke from the sputtering remains of the tablecloth.

The bear was standing up on his hind paws, roaring in fury.

"Spear him!" the captain shouted. "Kill the brute!"