[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

The company left the city by its main gate, the last to leave before it was closed for the night; for though the Shadow was gone from the East yet there were still roving bands of masterless men abroad of nights, and other, fouler things still haunted the dark. The gates closed behind them and they were alone on the empty road. It was an ill-omened departure, for night was a strange time for travelling and an air of mistrust enfolded the party like a shroud.

Haleg rode in silence and with caution, his eyes stabbing at the gathering darkness in search of unknown foes and his right hand never far from the haft of the great axe. Not for the first time Elenna wondered that one so ragged should carry the weapon of a king's champion without incongruity. His movements were assured and economical, always in perfect balance and always with his weapon close to hand. One end of a strange package protruded from a roll of blankets behind his saddle, and in this uncertain light it was uncomfortably like a sword. Both Azariah and the smith watched the axeman warily, and only Halasan rode close to him.

"I like not the road at this hour," murmured the scarred warrior, his words all but inaudible to all save Halasan. "We should leave the road and make camp 'til first light. An enemy could come within bowshot in this mirk and we would never know."

With that the axeman turned his horse from their path, leading the way toward a copse that was just visible at some yards' distance. Just a few feet from the road he stopped and dismounted carefully, his motions once more smooth and fluid.

"Best to lead the horses," he said, again in the gentle undertone. "There are rabbit warrens hereabout."

"I don't recall your being made commander of this party," challenged Azariah quietly; but within a moment Haleg stood by his stirrup, both hands on his axe and frustration in his still-soft voice.

"Then you lead us, if that is your wish," he said. “But I have no desire to take that road in darkness, nor to bandy words with you all night. In this wood I shall make my camp, and those who will may join me.”

Turning abruptly from the gaping soldier, he took his axe in his right hand and caught up the reins in his left; then led them cautiously under the eaves of the stand of Elms, placing his feet carefully so that his passage made only the vaguest whisper of sound.

“There is no time to lose!” said Halasan, adopting the same half-whisper as the mercenary. “We must press on if we are to catch them!”

“And we will catch them all the sooner if we do not die by some brigand’s arrow before we reach their trail” replied the other implacably, stilling all argument by striding ahead. They followed reluctantly, unsure of what to do or say in the face of his calm authority, yet resentful of his curt commands. When he spoke, he did not make requests; he simply stated what would be.

They made camp in the centre of a large clearing, digging a fire-pit and surrounding it with stones so that it gave out the least possible light. Halasan asked his companion what danger merited such caution, and received a terse reply.

“He who saves his caution until the enemy is in sight will never see his foes,” said the warrior. Then turning to the others he announced “I will take the last watch if there are no objections.”

Predictably there were none, but Azariah said “A man could do with company on that watch. Our party is large enough for us to keep vigil together.” His words were friendly, but his purpose was plain: he did not trust the strange mercenary. Nonetheless, Haleg made no protest: the last watch in the cold and drowsy hours of early morning was a trial of endurance that none relished and few performed well. Attacks would often come in these cold hours, and all too often they were unopposed by drowzing sentries. The smith took the first watch, and they went to their bed-rolls in silence. This would not be an easy journey.

*****

The morning dawned cold and clear, and one by one the company awoke to find the fire already burning strongly. Haleg stood by the horses, silent and watchful, his axe at the ready. He made no move to join them.

“What ails you, friend?” asked Halasan carefully, moving to stand by the other man.

“Only too many raided camps,” replied Haleg. “Such care was learned, and the lessons were hard. I do not like to travel at night, even in this land, although I am glad that we have with us a guardsman. That will make matters simpler.”

As he continued his words became a chant, and Halasan knew, though the staves were unfamiliar, that this was one of the great Lays.

“There they fought and fell by foes outnumbered,
by treachery trapped at a time of night
when their fires faded and few were waking –
some wakened never, not for wild noises,
nor cries nor curses, nor clashing steel,
swept as they slumbered to the slades of death.”

“What would you do now?” asked the homesteader, amazed at the grim warning. To him the task was simple: he would reach the trading post and pick up the fugitives’ trail, at the end of which Kiatus awaited his wrath. He would free his daughter from the betrayer’s clutches, and her abductor would know fear.

“I would ask a man who knows the way to lead us to the merchant,” smiled the axeman, clapping him on the shoulder. “How convenient that we have such a man here with us. First, though, we must eat.”

He took a loaf and a hunk of cheese from one of his saddlebags and led his fellow traveller to the fire, where breakfast was already underway. Taking a knife from his belt he sliced a chunk from each and began to eat, smooth and unhurried in this as all actions. Although he seemed at ease, lightly discussing their route with Estomer between mouthfuls, the smith noted that his eyes were everywhere. “Who are you, Haleg?” he wondered. “And why so watchful among friends?”

Breakfast over, they broke camp; Tunar leading the way back onto the road, where they mounted and once more headed South. Haleg still spoke little, although now he had softer words for all, even an apology for the Gondorian for his peremptory commands of the night before. The light seemed to have relaxed him, and indeed it had, for the day was fine and the road straight. They could see for several miles, and the road thus far was clear. As the sun reached its zenith the mood of the company had lightened and their spirits were less subdued. Now hope and determination could be read in Halasan’s face; Haleg’s rough mood had mellowed and whatever he had said to the guardsman had cheered him, although he still watched the axeman carefully. The smith was pointing out scenery and telling local stories as he rode, and even Elenna, whose lungs had not taken well to sleeping in the open, was brightening as the sun began to warm her. Only once did she succumb to a bout of coughing, which she passed off to their new companions as a bad cold. Haleg had said nothing at this, his face unreadable, but he had slowed their pace nonetheless. So the travellers passed the first day of their journey, making good time and camping late, driven as they were by Halasan’s impatience. He spoke little of his pursuit, but his gaze was ever drawn in the direction of the Emyn Muil, and there was murder in his eyes.

[ March 26, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]