Undómë’s post
-- Late April, 3019 --
Word had come of the War’s end to the people of Hengistham when Lord Sighebert’s herald rode into the city crying that the Lord’s hall be made ready. There were cries of ‘Tell us! Tell us Sighebert rides before his men and Rohan is victorious!’ The herald had paused his mount before the lord’s mead hall and spoke loud so that all might hear the tidings he brought to the household.
‘Lord Sighebert returns, as do his sons!’ A cheer rose up, though beneath it ran the low murmurings of how the other families had fared. ‘And Rohan is victorious! The foe of the free peoples is o’erthrown by the spears and blades of the Riders of the Mark!’ Hands reached up to touch the messenger of such good tidings, as if to take some sort of luck away upon themselves. He waved them back, though, his face taking on a tired look as if some heavy burden weighed in his eyes now.
‘Lord Sighebert will tell you more of this when he arrives, but he bade me give you this news. King Théoden has fallen in battle.’ A pall of silence fell over those gathered about him. And then the whisperings. ‘Who is King now.....now that Théodred has also gone?’ The herald raised his hand so that he might be heard. ‘Éomer Éadig, he who was Third Marshal of Riddermark, sits in the Golden Hall!’
There were cries of approval that such a worthy man would now be King.’
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-- August, 3019--
In the early weeks of this last-of-summer month, Lord Sighebert had ridden out with his sons and a small retinue of his riders to Edoras. The old King must be laid to rest, and the new made formal welcome and allegiance. Those of the refugees from Wulfham and Bregoware had waited until Sighebert returned to tell him of their wishes.
Meghan’s family had decided to stay in Hengistham, on the small homestead they had farmed and raised their livestock on for the past two years. It felt safer here to them, near to the King. Meghan’s mother is now an added consideration in their choosing to stay; she is too old to be traveling back to the site of the old village. Rædwald’s little herd of goats has been added to theirs and they and their owners are thriving in this new place.
Brand’s family has grown fond of Meghan, and she of them. And it was with great sadness that she rode out with them to the edges of Hengistham’s eastern boundaries as they prepared to journey back to Wulfham.....
‘You’ll come of course in a year or two, won’t you Meghan?’ Winifred rode to her left, and Brand’s other sister, Hilde, to her right. ‘If the Orcs and Easterlings bypassed our little village, it shouldn’t take long for us to get the farm back into shape and the sheep fattened up in the pastures.’
Hilde clucked at her sister reminding her that it might all depend on Meghan’s mother’s health. ‘She can’t very well go haring off on some trip not knowing how her mother will fare while she’s gone, now can she?’
In the near distance where Brand rode with his mother and father, Meghan could see the three of them deep in conversation. She would miss them sorely, and already her heart was grieved at the thought they would be so far away.
The miles passed easily enough, the three women sharing little stories of their time together and hopes and dreams of what might come. At the mid-day mark, she stopped and bade them farewell, saying she would send letters as she could with the errand riders.
Meghan sat stock still on her horse, watching as the group grew small in the distance.....until at last the tall brown grasses of the plain swallowed them up as their figures dropped behind the gentle curve of a hill. With a heavy heart she turned round her mare and headed back toward her new home.....
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It was later that evening; the sky darkening just enough for the first of the stars to shine through. Meghan sat wrapped in her thick cloak, near the small fire she’d made. She’d taken her goats to the last of the summer’s pastures, northeast of the hill fortress.....soon the snows would come and there would be little freedom for her charges.
They were a pleasant company for her as the sun began to set. Their voices were soft, and oft times one or another would crowd near her, curious to see what she was doing. She pulled out her wooden flute, the one her brother had made for her when he’d learned how she’d lost her other. The flickering flames and the late autumn setting brought back memories of that journey two years earlier......sad memories, though tempered by time so as to be now bearable. She put the flute to her lips recalling an old tune she had played on a chilly night in that time ago.
The
music wove softly into the night air.....
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Arry’s post
‘Quiet now,’ the figure beneath the shadows of the trees said softly to his mount. The woman’s back was to him, her seated figure wrapped in a cloak. Backlit by flame she seemed another shadow herself as her head dipped and rose with the effort of the music, her nimble fingers playing up and down the length of her flute.
The dog who sat patiently near the horse and rider whined low, his brushy tail thumping wildly in the dirt. ‘Go on, then,’ the man said to him, smiling. Freed from his restraint the dog barked a loud greeting as he ran toward the woman. The force of his greeting nearly knocked her off her feet as she attempted to stand. Her flute flew from her grasp and went skittering across the grass and dirt.
‘I remember that melody,’ Brand said, stepping into the circle of light. Lady nudged past him to find what last clumps of grass the goats might have left for her.
Retrieving the errant flute from the ground, he made his way to Meghan, grinning widely at her. ‘I believe that was when you began your devious campaign to show the merits of goats over sheep. Never mind that I was wounded and unable to defend myself against your insinuating arguments or your spell-winding music.’ He drew her into the circle of his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. She turned so that they both faced the fire and leaned back against him. They made a comfortable pair as they watched the flames crackle along the logs.
‘Father left us a third of the flock,’ Brand murmured, breaking the easy silence between them. ‘Your brother has them in one of his pens for now. Until we can build one of our own.’ He spread a blanket on the ground and bade her sit down with him.
‘My sisters both told me you promised them a visit would be happening in a year or so.’ He picked up a broken twig and cast it into the fire. ‘You know there will be letters as oft as they can find riders to bring them.....and they’ll try their hardest to get us to stay once we’re there, don’t you?’ Meghan shrugged her shoulders and smiled up at him. ‘Ah, well, little bird, we’ll cross that bridge when it’s come to.’
Brand reached for the flute he’d placed on the blanket beside him. ‘Play a song, won’t you?’ he said. ‘The one you were playing when I rode up. Little Rædi is safe in his blankets, tucked in with his cousin, I’m sure. There’s no need to get back soon.....’