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Wulfham
‘Well, we . . .,’ he paused for a moment his brow wrinkling. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.’ He stepped to the side and let his hand move from one to the other of his companions. ‘This is Vaenosa . . . and this, Incana. And here’s Dorran. Leod you seem to know already. And I’m Brand.’
He nodded northward, saying they were from a village about her size called Wulfham. ‘About five days ride from here,’ he went on. His eyes darted quickly about the still smoking ruins. ‘Our march-warden had heard tales coming in from the north across the river that villages were being attacked by small roving bands of Orcs and sometimes Easterlings. And that the attacks had grown more frequent. He ordered the village packed up and is moving them toward the King’s Hall in Edoras. That is where we’re bound. With letters to the king, asking for help as we move toward the safety of his own town.’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘What has happened to your village has made it all the more real for us.’ He turned toward the others of his group. ‘I don’t think we knew the Orcs had crossed the River; that they were even closer to us than we thought.’
Brand noticed her glance at his bandaged face and he raised his hand unconsciously toward it. ‘We had an unfortunate encounter with a big cat several days ago. Or fortunate, perhaps, in that she is dead and we are still able to move onwards.’
‘Anyways, that is where we are going . . . and Leod, too,’ he went on, nodding toward the healer. ‘To Edoras; to the King.’ He looked at her questioningly. ‘There’s the old goodwives’ tale – that there be safety in numbers. Or so my Gran says and in just that way, too.’ He chuckled, thinking of her. It was an incongruous sound as it rolled out of him and over the razed village and the corpses.
‘We’d be glad of your company, wouldn’t we?’ he asked his eyes going to his companions. ‘Come along, won’t you Mistress . . .?’
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