[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Undómë’s post

Meghan stood against a wall, on a chair she’d dragged over to give her some height. Had it been her choice, she would have stayed home altogether, minding her mother while Leof and Gudryn saw to the fuss at the town’s hall. Not that she wasn’t concerned about the horn call to gather, but the thought of so many people as they pressed in against her made her loathe to go.

‘I’ll just look after mama,’ she had told her brother, as he scrambled into his tunic. ‘And the babes, of course. You and Gudryn can find out the news.’

‘Nay,’ he’d told her. It was Gudryn who would see to the household while they were gone. It was he and Meghan who would represent their family at the meeting.

So, here she stood on her small island of wood looking out over the sea of her townsmen’s heads. Their faces were all turned to Horwald as he raised his hand to speak. And the words he spoke were chilling. A small current of cold fear ran down her back, making her shiver. Orcs! Worse yet, Easterlings! And in an organized group this time, not just some willy-nilly raiding. She wondered for a moment what sort of dark captain might have managed to make them work together. Given their natural hatred of each other they would have torn each other apart. She shivered again at the thought that somehow they were now acting together.

Her mind was racing as the march-warden laid out his plan to move the villagers toward Edoras. How would she manage her goats on the march? What supplies would she need to bring for the long journey? She would want to make sure they had enough to eat – especially the milkers, as they would provide nourishment for her family and others. She was making lists in her mind when she heard someone ask the question about sending for help. And looking up she saw Horwald nod his head at the truth of it and speak with his counselors.

Meghan flattened herself against the wall as he called for volunteers – four fast riders to make haste to the King himself. She did not intend to be one of them. She closed her eyes, willing herself invisible. Peeping through one eye she saw that swords had been raised as the volunteers made themselves known. Osmond’s blade was raised, as well as one of Fion’s weapons, and there across the room was the hand of . . . a woman, whose name she could not recall. Voices were raised praising the braveness of the volunteers.

But the march-warden had called for four – she only saw three . . .

Beside her, her brother made a shuffling sound as he readjusted his position leaning against the wall. She turned to ask him if he’d noted the fourth volunteer and saw with horror his own blade raised. In a quick, unthinking move she bent down from her perch on the chair and grabbed their father’s old sword from his hand. ‘You sheep-brained fool!’ she hissed at him, the sword upraised in her hand as she maneuvered it away from him. ‘Who will protect our mother and your wife and babies if you ride off westward?’

Murmurs of approval swelled about her. She stood upright wondering why her name rose on the current of voices. Her face blanched when she realized she still held her brother’s sword up and away from his grasp. She leaned back against the wall for support, her knees suddenly turned to jelly, as the march-warden pointed to her and nodded his head in approval.

The remainder of the meeting, after the greater part of the villagers had gone back to their homes, was a blur to her. Plans were discussed, as well as supplies, and horses. She recalled saying that ‘yes’ she would need a faster horse, as their old farm horse would only plod her way to Edoras and most likely arrive after the villager itself had got there.

Leof and she tramped home in a stony silence. He was angry that she had grabbed the blade from him and been counted among the volunteers; she was angry that he had thought to raise it on his own behalf at all.

o*o*o*o

Meeting at the Hall the next day

It was a tired Meghan who dragged herself to the Hall the next morning.

Her packing had not consisted of much – her few clothes, her cape, her stick and little bow, her knife, and of course, her knitting needles and her yarn. Gudryn had made her up a small packet of food for the day, knowing the march-warden’s family would see to her other provisioning.

She had said her good-byes, telling her mother not to fret. That she would soon be back and that Leof and Gudryn would take good care of her. Gudryn hugged her, whispering ‘thanks’ in her ear for making Leof stay with them. Leof, faced with the inevitability of her going thawed and clasped her fiercely to him. ‘You come back, you hear!’ he ordered her, his voice gone husky with emotion. ‘Or begads I’ll hunt you in the otherworld and drag you back to us!’

Meghan pushed herself a little away from him, and kissed him on the brow. ‘And you brother, take care of my goats! Else I give you a thump on that thick head of yours for everyone that’s gone missing.’

She pushed open the doors to the Town Hall and tromped in. Laying her pack and bedroll at her feet, she thumped her pole on the wooden floor to draw attention to herself. ‘Well, here I am; ready as I’ll ever be. Now if you’ll just show me to the horse you promised, I’ll get the both of us ready to be off . . .

. . . on this fool’s errand! she added to herself. Fools all, if we think we’ll make it . . . more the fool, if we think the King and his Riders will care about our outland problems at all . . .