Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

Falco

Fair enough, Falco thought to himself. The little conniver had more cheek than a hobbit in his tweens. Soon they were off trotting into the heart of Edoras, approaching Meduseld. It was not long before a general disturbance had been wrought on the grounds of the King's hall, and a small cadré of Eorlingas had been rounded up and were galloping down the main road of Edoras, past the Eorling Mead Hall, and out toward the the ruins. Nevertheless, they arrived there a half hour after Thornden's crew.

Falco had decided not to join the cadré, but to trot back east at a leisurely pace. Javan's horse trotted past the Eorling Mead Hall, and Javan questioned Falco as to why they were not stopping.

"We may be needed," Falco said simply.

Eodwine

Eodwine hunkered down in a nettle. He had considered holing up in that circular chamber, but having no bow and arrows, he had decided that his enemies would climb over the top in too great numbers and soon overwhelm him. He had thought of climbing a tree, but he would be no safer than a roosted bird and arrows could reach him, or worse, fire. So he had left the paths and half-paths and forged into the close brush and nettles, and had instructed Ritun and Lefun to do the same. He saw no sign of the twins now. He hoped that Falco had gotten away safely. Eodwine lay low and tried to calm his breathing. Are you being a coward? The stray thought didn't surprise him, but it most certainly did not help at the moment. No! he insisted to himself. This place is overrun with outlaws! There must be at least a dozen! He could hear the heavy thud of feet running hither and yon. It was best to lay low, if he could manage it, until help came; if it came. He hoped Ritun and Lefun were safe.

[Taralphiel]

The reassurance of the young boy made Lys smile. He did not know how the day would play out, but he was glad he had someone he may count as another friend to spend it with.

"How did Eodwine save you?"

Lys paused and fiddled with the chunk of bread he had set to eating. He did not like telling people what had happened. Lord Eodwine, Thornden, Hrethel and Léof seemed to have kept mostly quiet about his state. All knew a sickly boy resided at the Hall, but few took notice. He still felt uncomfortable and ashamed.

"Lord Eodwine...took me in." Lys said, noting he was being repetitive. "I have been..unlucky I suppose. And Thornden has cared for me also. He is as close to a father as I will ever have."

Lys felt like he was lying but did not say more. He looked up at the boy, wondering what else he might ask. Would it be so bad to tell him everything? He was not certain. Lys decided to turn to another subject.

"And what of you? You said that you have an Uncle? Is he here?"

[Nogrod]

Garmund and Cnebba messing with things too...

"Garmund, look!" Cnebba sprang up and let his grip loose of the sheep Garmund was shearing.

"Auch! You..." Garmund cut a small wound to his index finger as the sheep struggled itself away. But as soon as he saw what Cnebba was pointing at he froze.

The two boys were following the tiny rider in the distance with their eyes. They couldn't believe what they saw. The truth was just too demanding.

"That's master Falco! He's hurt!", Garmund shouted in the end as if Cnebba hadn't realised the fact already. They both screwed up their eyes to see the riding shape properly.

"Where are the others?" Cnebba asked insecurely. He couldn't hide the sudden fear that had taken over him from his voice.

Garmund and Cnebba had seen the four riding towards the ruins in the distance earlier in the day. They had been particularly jealous of the sight, both for reasons of their own. They had followed the riders keenly enough with their eyes then. But now after an hour or so the feeling was not that of an envy but that of an anguish. Even their young minds realised that something had gone bad.

"Should we..." Cnebba began shakily but Garmund was already on his feet and running.

"C'mon you sissy! I know the place!"

Cnebba followed Garmund through the long grass as fast as he could. He couldn't catch him but neither could Garmund make any more headway to him. Cnebba was soon panting heavily. He just ran without a thought, following Garmund who led the way towards the ruins more than a mile away.

[Mithalwen]

"And what of you? You said that you have an Uncle? Is he here?"

"Here?" Elfthain was startled slightly having been distracted by Lys' previous words, "Oh in Edoras but not in the Hall.... he is a knight of the kings guard ...and well he is the nearest I have to a father now ... he is very kind but it is not the same ..... and my aunt is having another baby - that is why we are here, my mother is good with that sort of thing - and if this one is a boy maybe he won't be so interested in me anymore".

Elfthain suddenly looked a lot younger and his lip quivered... he had part overheard his mother telling her brother that maybe if he had a son of his own to raise he would interfere less in how she brought up hers and taken it overly to heart.

[Firefoot]

Seeing everyone around him draw their weapons, Léof had followed suit, unsheathing his short knife and holding it awkwardly in front of him. The short weapon was of small comfort; even if he really had known how to use it for fighting, he imagined that it was too short to be really effective: it was scarcely half a foot long. He wished that they had not had to spread out so much, even if two or three of the others were within sight, if he looked for them. He felt utterly incapable, and, yes, scared. His knife hand was trembling slightly. Why had he come? He had known he wouldn’t be much use in fighting. He was more like to get himself captured like Eodwine, or killed, than to be of any help.

He walked forward slowly, listening carefully for any sound. Every dell, every tree seemed to hide an outlaw. Then somewhere off to his right there was a clashing; Léof jumped at the sudden noise. He hesitated; ought he to keep going, or run towards the sound? Did someone need help? Had they found something? Without thinking too hard about it he began to run in that direction. Before he had gone even three steps, he tripped and went flying, landing heavily on his stomach. Just as he was reorienting himself, something large landed on top of him. One word registered in Léof’s hazy mind:

Outlaw!

He began to struggle, kicking wildly and trying to get the great brute off of him. He felt crushed, unable to draw a deep breath of air. One of his kicks connected firmly and he felt the man grunt and move slightly off him. He managed a gasp of breath and cried out. Help! He needed help!

[Celuien]

Eager to come to Falco's aid, Garmund ran faster than he ever had before. He did not know what had gone amiss, but there had to be something wrong. Even from a distance, Garmund had seen that the hobbit had something wrapped around his head.

For a moment, Garmund thought of being glad to be away from the slow shearing and from the simmering fight with Cnebba, now pushed under a stony silence broken only by grumbled comments on their work. He chided himself. If there was trouble at hand and if Falco had been hurt, that was far more important than the quarrel.

The unkempt thicket near the ruins drew near. Not long ago, Garmund had approached cheerfully, ready for an adventure. Now the place seemed somehow forbidding. Falco was nowhere to be seen, and a quick glance behind showed that Cnebba had been left far behind. Garmund was alone.

Or so he thought. Whispered voices and footsteps came from inside the thicket and Garmund dropped to the ground alarmed. He crawled under a tangle of brambles and tried to peer into the deeper undergrowth.

Several pairs of booted feet paced just ahead. Garmund held his breath, not wanting to be heard, and slowly crawled back out from under the brambles. Cnebba was coming, and quarrel or no quarrel, had to be warned to be on his guard.

He headed back the way he came, first slowly and on tiptoe, then, once some distance separated him from the thicket, he broke into a run. He soon came back to Cnebba.

Out of breath, Garmund gasped out, "There are strange men in the thicket. We have to be careful. Come on."

[Nogrod]

Garmund and Cnebba reached the ruins undetected. First they had been covered by the tall grass and nearer the ruins they had taken to crawling beneath the underbrush. They were panting heavily, leaning their backs to the remnants of a once powerful tower giving to the east.

They had seen three rugged men dragging the twins by force into the mound from a half collapsed doorway. One of them had slapped Ritun brutally to the face when he had cried for help.

Both of them were trying to control their breath but couldn’t help it. Their cheeks were red from exhaustion and their hearts were beating on overrates. Cnebba’s hands were shaking visibly and he tried to bury them under his legs not to show the trembling to his friend. Garmund was pressing the shearing knife so hard in his hand that his knuckles were white. With one word, they were scared to death after seeing how the outlaws had handled the twins.

“What do we do now?” Cnebba hissed from between his teeth.

Garmund was quiet for a while but then seemed to pull himself together and whispered back to Cnebba. “I have these...”, he raised his hand to show the shearing knife to Cnebba, “Pick some pebbles... we must get the twins out from here”.

Cnebba was about to voice his fear of the big men but decided to shut his mouth as he saw the determined look on Garmund’s face.

Armed with a shearing knife and a few pebbles the boys started crawling beneath the underbrush towards the doorway some twenty yards from them. They stayed close to the broken ancient wall that had been growing grass for decades for the vegetation was thickest just beside it.

“More of them coming! Hurry up guys! Giddyup!”

The sharp voice coming from the left froze them both to their positions. Neither dared even to breathe.

Suddenly there was movement all around the place. Four men appeared from behind the corner some thirty yards in front of them and ran towards the voice. Two of the men who had dragged the twins inside the mound emerged from the doorway and followed the four. There were also sounds of running feet behind them but they didn’t dare to turn their heads to see. For a while they just waited.

Eventually Garmund started to crawl forwards again. Cnebba had no choice but to follow. He didn’t wish to be left alone in this place anyhow. He was hoping, he was hoping indeed, that his father and Garmund’s father, and lord Thornden and all of the men from the Mead Hall would be here. He just hoped.

Garmund stopped abruptly and turned to look at Cnebba. “Okay Cnebba. Now we get up and run... we run fast but quiet. You understand? The doorway is just a few yards away.” He pointed carefully forwards. “You see it?”

Cnebba nodded slowly and pressed the pebble he had in his hand. He swallowed and then looked at Garmund to the eye. “We run then”, he said quietly.

“As I count to three...” Garmund whispered.

[Celuien]

Garmund could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He stared intently at the one man who remained to guard the mound, holding his breath and clenching the small knife in his fist. The guard's back was to the boys.

Garmund swallowed hard, worried that he and Cnebba had come into more trouble than they bargained for. But, with the other six men gone, this was their best chance to help the twins.

"One."

He clenched the knife tighter.

"Two."

Now or never.

"Three."

Garmund stood quickly and ran on tiptoe towards the doorway. Cnebba was just behind him. The guard did not turn.

The ground was covered with straggling vines from the surrounding thicket. One of them wrapped around Garmund's ankle. He fell, and as he caught himself, the knife slipped from his grasp. The guard turned sharply and gaped at the boys.

Without thinking, Cnebba flung his pebble at the guard, striking him squarely in the forehead. In the moment gained by Cnebba's quick action, Garmund caught his footing and snatched the knife.

"Come on!" he shouted and sprinted to the doorway.

The boys stood in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder, and faced the guard, who approached with a smirk on his lips.

"Come no closer," Garmund cried shakily. The knife flashed in his hand.

[Folwren]

The outlaw fairly laughed at Garmund’s threatening motion of the knife. Ghem enjoyed a good show of bravery and sport, especially when it posed no danger to himself. Regardless of their harmlessness, though, he slowed his advance and came on slowly and gently, as though he were stalking a shy horse.

“‘Ey, me lads, now, I haint gonna ‘urt you,” he said softly, a wicked smile twisted to get free and spring on his face. “You put up a nasty li’le foight, don’ yea?” His left hand brushed his forehead briefly, where the stone had struck him. A little blood showed on his fingertips, but he ignored it. He didn’t care.

He was glad these boys had come along. He was always left to guard prisoners and it was always the most boring job of the whole commission. Rarely had he had visitors, and rarely had the visitors been so small and promised so much fun.

And all the while the thoughts sped through his mind, he advanced slowly forward, ready to make a quick spring, capture that knife arm and put some sense into these brave, foolish, and very unlucky little boys’ heads.