Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna

Rowenna's throat clenched in panic. Every nerve in her body urged her to scream, or because of the threat of death at knife point, to swallow the scream and weep silently.

No.

This was not the first time. It had been this way all the time those first few months, and then there were more incidents later; the last one had been Eric, one of the most rascally ones, who was now thankfully dead.

Make the best of the situation.

Using her silkiest voice she said, "You are just in the nick of time, my love." She leaned back into Ulric, using her body to remind him of his lust. "I was beginning to wonder if Ghem was going to remind you of his lockpicks."

"Lying witch! You betrayed us."

"Silly boy, I played the Eorl. You did not die. Why do you think not?"

Rowenna could see out of the corner of her eye that the young cook's eyes were widening with fear, not having expected such words from her.

"See, you even have a new wench for your pleasure."

"Don't trust her Ulric!" growled Withold.

"Girl," said Rowenna, her voice suddenly harsh, "hand over the knife if you wish to live. If you do not, my friends here will think nothing of slitting your throat once they've taken it from you. They've done it before. And don't be a little fool and scream, or you'll get yourself killed even quicker."

Rowenna wondered what the girl would do. Confound Ulric for not trusting her more and loosening his grip on her!

"Ulric, my dear, I would be so much more useful if you take your little knife from my throat."

Eodwine

None of the others wished to speak, Eodwine concluded after a short wait. He ordered Garwiné to stand honor guard over Rilef's body, and ordered Stigend to build a casket so that Lefun and Ritun could be buried in the back pasture that night. Then he indicated that the others were free to go about their duties. Eodwine remained standing where he was, reflecting on the strange events of the day. He was startled to realize that almost everyone had left without him aware; except for Falco, Garmund, Cnebba, and Modtryth. They were still standing where they had been, each of them eyeing their Eorl.

"Well? One of you wishes to say something now that the others are gone. Please speak your mind."

[Nogrod]

Garmund’s fingers were closed around the toy. Cnebba laid his own hands over Garmund’s and pressed them firmly as a mark of a deal. Cnebba looked at his friend to the eye.

“Friends…”, he said and pushed the toy towards Garmund. “You keep this. I’ll ask my dad to make me another one and then we can play with them together?” Garmund nodded approvingly and they gave each other a short smile.

---

“Stigend, I wish you to make a casket for the dead. They should be buried today.” Lord Eodwine ordered and Stigend rose up nodding to the eorl. “That will be done immediately” he said and turned away to get his tools.

The hatchet… I left it in the alder court in the morning… Stigend turned back and went out of the door leading to the yard between the hall and the new kitchen. He picked his axe from the pile of logs he had been carving in the morning when he heard voices from the kitchen. There were some rough male voices but also a female voice which was not that of Kara. Everyone’s at the hall so there shouldn’t be anyone in the kitchen…

Stigend crept carefully to the door and peeked round it.

Two men were bullying Ginna and one had a knife at Rowenna’s throat. Rowenna had just turned her gaze at the outlaw who was threatening her.

“Ulric, my dear, I would be so much more useful if you take your little knife from my throat."

For a second Stigend was confused. now what is this? My dear… being more useful? But there was no time to think.

“Alarm! Everyone alarm! The outlaws are loose, in the kitchen!” Stigend shouted from the bottom of his lungs and took a step to close the doorway. He had picked his knife to his left hand and in his right hand he held the chip axe.

“Allright brutes, leave the women and drop your knives. You have no way to escape.” Stigend was suddenly trembling with anger. It was not only because he despised outlaws in principle or even that these outlaws had attacked his lord… these things would have not triggered such a powerful reaction from him. But it was what they had done to Rilef and even more to the point how their deed had affected Cnebba and Garmund. Remembering the anguish in the eyes of the little boys made Stigend boil over with the brutes who were now bullying women.

Stigend raised his left hand fingering his knife and thence signalling that he was both able and willing to use it as a ranged weapon as well. Stigend looked at Ulric who was nearest to him. "Drop your knife and let her free!"

[littlemanpoet]

"This is all my fault," Falco declared. "I should never have talked them into comin' here," he continued in a low voice. "He was better off on his own."

"You blame yourself for their death, Falco?" asked Eodwine. "It's a fool thing to do. Bringing him away from the ruins might have saved-"

"Them!" Garmund deftly inserted the correction.

"What? Oh, sorry. Bringing them here might have saved their lives. I was the one asked them to go back there today, so if anybody deserves blame, it falls on my shoulders."

"Ah but don't you see," said Falco, "If he'd never left he'd have kept hid."

"They!" Garmund interrupted.

"Aye, they!" Cnebba joined in, grinning. It was great fun correcting one's elders.

"Now boys," Modtryth reprimanded mildly.

"Maybe and maybe not. Anyway, he's dead - I mean, they are dead. May we be the better for having them among us for a little while."

Suddenly a cry went up from the alder court. “Alarm! Everyone alarm! The outlaws are loose, in the kitchen!”

"Curse it!" cried Eodwine. "Modtryth, take the boys upstairs to your rooms and close the door, and block it! Falco! Grab a weapon!" Eodwine dashed to the armoury, grabbed a sword and throwing axe, and ran toward the back hall which led directly to the kitchen.

[Ealasaide]

Ulric, Withold, & Ghem

The blood rushed to Ulric’s head as Rowenna leaned her supple body into his, her familiar scent filling his nostrils as she purred, “Ulric, my dear, I would be so much more useful if you take your little knife from my throat.” She knew how to work his particular hungers well, having proven it many times in the past, but Ulric knew that now was no time for games. He had to keep his wits about him if he wished to live. The hand holding the tiny knife moved closer to her throat, rather than farther away. If she had indeed convinced the Eorl that she was a mere hostage, then that is what she would remain. He grabbed her roughly around the middle and jerked her against him as a booming voice exploded from just outside the kitchen door.

"Alarm! Everyone alarm! The outlaws are loose, in the kitchen!"

As the newcomer burst through the door, a knife in one hand, a throwing axe in the other, Withold made a lunge at the serving girl. Before she could make a move in her own defense, he had disarmed her and sent her knife skittering harmlessly across the floor toward the fire. Like Ulric with Rowenna, he spun around to face the newcomer, holding the girl’s slender figure between him and the threat that loomed in the doorway. He held the gleaming blade of his kitchen knife to her throat. A small bead of blood appeared against her pale skin as the knife grazed her just below the chin. Ghem, being the only one without a hostage, continued to brandish the meat cleaver he’d snatched from the wall only seconds earlier.

“Drop your knife and let her go!” ordered the young man, looking at Ulric.

Ulric laughed harshly. “Take it from me.”

As the man took a step in Ulric’s direction, looking as though he fully intended to carry out Ulric’s challenge, Ghem slipped behind him and slammed the door to the Alder yard shut, dropping the bolt solidly into place. The newcomer was surrounded.

“You shouldn’t have raised the alarm,” said Ulric. “That was a stupid thing. Now someone is going to die.”

“Yeh,” snarled Ghem at the newcomer. He reached down and picked up a piece of firewood from the pile just inside the door with his offhand. “Drop yer weapons unless ya want it to be you.” While the log he had picked up wasn’t much of a weapon, it could take a blow from the newcomer’s axe if need be and buy him enough time to counter anything his opponent threw with a swipe of the meat cleaver. Or it could make an admirable bludgeon if he got in close enough. Either way, it was better than nothing. Better than Ulric’s teeny little blade, anyway. He waited for the young man to make a move, his muscles coiled like a viper’s.

In the meantime, a great deal of shouting and pounding of feet sounded from the direction of the great hall. Ghem began to think of the door at his back and came to the abrupt realization that perhaps sliding the bolt had not been such a brilliant idea. It might be their only avenue to escape.

****************************************

Elián

“Alarm! Everyone alarm! The outlaws are loose, in the kitchen!”

Ah, blast, thought Elián as the call to arms echoed throughout the Great Hall. Ghem and the blasted lock picks. Neither wanting to take part in the recapture operation nor wanting to be accused of inaction during a time of danger, he reluctantly put his mead aside and trotted dutifully behind the Eorl to the armory where he had been forced to leave his weapons on the way in. He found his own sword and dagger where he had left them and, pulling both from their scabbards, followed the Eorl down the hallway toward the kitchen. Inside, he could hear a commotion, voices. Something about women.

Women?

Well, that wasn’t right. If Ghem and the boys wanted to menace the local gents, that was one thing, but if they were going to pick on the pretty little serving girls he’d seen earlier, that was too much. He was definitely going to have to throw in with the Eorl on this one.

“Sorry, Ghem, mate,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re on your own.”

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna

So Ulric was going to play it like a rogue. Rowenna had more than half expected it. She had been playing both sides against the middle so far, to see which side came out on top, but she had secretly been hoping that she could leave outlawry behind. If it was not to be, she would have to make the best of it that she could.

When the man yelled and charged into the doorway, Ulric grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him roughly. The only movement she could do now would be to strike at Ulric's face blindly with her small fists, or feebly kick her heel into his groin. Had he given her more freedom of movement, she could have surprised the man before them by kicking his sword hand, possibly disarming him. But that would be too decisive and ruin her chances at leaving outlawry. She held her tongue and stilled her body; it was time to wait things out to see which side won out.

Falco

Maybe Eodwine was right, maybe not. Falco was still convinced that Rilef would have been able to hide from the outlaws had he stayed in the woods around the ruin. But he was dead, and the outlaws were trying to escape. Eodwine and Elborn had run down the kitchen hall, effectively blocking off that escape. That would mean that the arbor court was their most likely means of escape, unless they planned to climb out through the hole in the cone shaped roof of the kitchen, which was frankly too small even for himself. That or dig a tunnel out of the cellar. Falco looked again at Lefun and Ritun.

"I'll avenge your death on these outlaws if I'm given the chance. Seein' as Eodwine plans them to hang anyway, it wouldn't hurt if I hurry them along."

He did not go to the armoury, but walked steadily past the firepit and the Eorl's Seat, past the tables and benches, past the door to the guest rooms, past the stove in the south wall of the Great Room, and through the door to the Alder court. The kitchen door across the court was shut tight. Had the outlaws done that? Where was Stigend? For it had been he who had yelled the warning, no doubt.

Falco stooped and searched the ground. The lawn was new and rough here where the kitchen had once been, and it had truly been small, fitting into the tiny space between the Hall and the Alder tree. Rocks were plentiful and he had his choice. He picked up four of them, holding three in his left hand, testing one in his right, feeling its weight, its edges, its curves, for just the right throwing grip.

The story of Mayor Samwise's "Apple Toss in Bree" was famous in the Shire, but also here in Rohan where the Master of Buckland had been a knight, and told the King, who had laughed heartily; his eorlings had liked the tale and the story of the halfling's skill of the target had spread across Rohan. It had been the same in Gondor.

"So let's show 'em, Master Shirriff of the Shire," Falco said to himself, "that it's not summat only the Mayor is good for, but most every Hobbit west of Bree."

Falco Boffin waited at the door to the Great Hall for his chance, should the outlaws come charging out of the kitchen into the Alder court; a deft and deadly shot to the side of the head would fell 'em, and maybe kill 'em, and if not kill 'em, then someone else could finish 'em off with a sword. Or tie 'em back up to contemplate their hanging on the morrow. Either way would be just as well.

[Nogrod]

Stigend had been concentrating too much on Ulric who held Rowenna on the blade. Ghem had managed to leap to the door bolting it. When Stigend retreated a step towards the wall and turned lightly to have both of them within his view he heard Ulric calling him from his right: “Now someone is going to die.”

Glancing swiftly back from Ulric to Ghem on his left he saw him grasping a piece of firewood. He did not see Withold or Ginna properly as they were behind Ulric and Rowenna.

“Drop yer weapons unless ya want it to be you.” Ghem said in a firm voice.

There was a noise coming from the corridor that united the Hall and the kitchen and it grew louder. Stigend saw how Ulric turned to hastily glance at the doorway at the other end of the kitchen as well as catching Withold’s nervous look as he was the closest one to the corridor with his hostage.

“You drop your weapons! You’re only making this worse for yourselves if you don’t!” Stigend yelled at the outlaws.

“Worse than going to the gallows? What might that be for you?” Ulric grinned to Stigend and took a firmer grip from Rowenna’s waist.

That was the moment Ghem striked. Stigend felt that something was coming towards him and fast from his left. Immediately he realised he had forgotten Ghem for a second too long – and Ulric had taunted him for that. Fool!

The backhanded hit was aimed at his throat. Stigend had barely time to turn enough to parry the swing of the cleaver with his left hand so that it only inflicted a cut into his left shoulder. His grip of the knife loosened with the impact and the knife went flying to the floor. With the momentum of his leftward movement Stigend brought the chip axe to fall down on Ghem with full force but he had clearly taken that into account as even partly unbalanced by Stigend’s parrying move the axe fell straight to the billet in his left hand. Ghem fell backwards towards the door with the thrust of the blow and Stigend fell forwards as the force of his movement and the sudden weight of the log now sticking with the axe draw him.

It took Stigend two steps to balance himself. Ghem had arisen to a defensive position at the door still holding his cleaver that now had blood on it. Stigend swang his axe in the air to get rid of the log of firewood. It clattered to the floor. From this new position Stigend was able to see all the outlaws as he now was standing more near to the fireplace in halfway between the two doors.

“The Eorl is coming and all the men… So drop your weapons…” There was a frozen second when no one moved or said anything..

“Now!”

Stigend looked at the outlaws challengingly while the rumble from the corridor came louder. He had to bite his lips from pain. His left shoulder was bleeding heavily.