[Arry]

It was nearly a fortnight before the two wounded men were able to travel. And if truth be told, it would have served them better had they had yet another week of rest. Their wounds had been deep ones and weakened them much. But still they felt the weight of their task upon them and as soon as they could sit their horses the companions moved westward.

As the Orcs and Easterlings had once been set against them, now the weather conspired to make hard their journey. Rain turned to icy sleet and then to light snow as they drew nearer the great mountain range. It was Osmod who led them as they made this final leg of the journey.

The Entwash was crossed in less than a day; the group seeking shelter in the little woods that marked where the Snowbourne River emptied its icy waters into the larger Stream. It was not a difficult day’s journey, yet the wounded men were tired by the long ride’s exertions. And there was talk the next morning of staying yet another day to rest. But Osmod rallied his little band of riders and urged them on recalling to them that the goal was now in sight - it was but a two day ride to Edoras.

As chilly as the weather was that heralded their way into Edoras, colder still was the reception the little band received from the sentries which stood at the entrance to the King’s Hall. With lances crossed before the high wooden doors, they barred the way in, saying the King was busy with matters of more importance and would have no time for a raggle-taggle group from the outlands.

When Brand and Osmod pressed for admittance, the King’s own advisor, a shrunken figure of a man, with a pale, knowing face, and heavy lidded eyes, spoke to them. His voice was at once softly insinuating and hard as an iron gate. And like a gate, he barred their way again.

‘....Why indeed should we welcome you?’ Grima Wormtongue asked. ‘Ragged crows! Beggars at the gate! You bring naught but ill news with your tales of Orcs and their attacks. Ill news is an ill guest they say. The King is busy with other, more important matters.’ He withdrew his pale hands into the sleeves of his gown, refusing to take even the pleas the village leaders had written to the King. Grima slid his eyes over Athwen. They glittered for a moment in their dark. oily depths, then just as quickly he dismissed her and Leod, too. It was as if they had no status now . . . their village and all in it were gone . . .

Hope fled the little band and they turned away from the Hall, seeking some place to think through what had happened and what they might do. Osmod led them to a small public house where there was at least shelter and the promise of drink and food.

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It was there that that the man found them. He had heard of their villages’ plight and of their own hard journey to seek help from the King. He was tall and fair and in his face shown kindness and concern. Others in the little stopping-house drew back as he made his way to where the companions sat, and there were whisperings that followed in his wake. He was a warrior of some note the companions thought and he took the letters the village heads had written and read them carefully. With a grim look, both for what he had read and how the messengers had been received, he then offered what help he might, what Riders he could, to see to their kinsmen’s safety.

‘If it is possible, they will come to Hengistham in the West Emnet. It is the hill fortress which old Sighebert commands.’ Théodred looked up from his discussion with the companions, his eyes narrowing as if taking counsel for a moment with his own thoughts. ‘Sighebert is still loyal to Rohan,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, that is where your families and villagers will be found, if we can shepherd them to safety.’

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It was a few more days before the remaining companions were ready to travel on. Sythric was the only one who knew the location of Hengistham and so led the way from Edoras. One of Théodred’s men bade them a brief farewell, bringing word from him that they would most likely reach Sighebert’s lands before their villagers did. And that they were to give the lord of Hengistham the note Theodred had written requesting that Sighebert take them in; give them shelter until those of Wulfham and Bregoware were brought to safety.....