Naught but Ash
Theodred dismounted Brego, heavy-eyed, worn and hungry. He and his company had ridden all day to reach to small village, now that they were here, all he could think of was food and warm bed. The town's folk began crowding around; asking of the news from Edoras, and the men relayed what they could in return for food and drink. The leader of the small village, an old withered man, bent under a heavy fur mantle guarding him from the cold. Theodred saluted him and the old chieftain bowed.
"My good sir, my men and I seek lodging, would you permit us to stay?"
"I am Cedric of Westfield Farthing, Of course sire, we could not refuse the son of Théoden King. There are some empty huts near the edge of the village your men are more than welcome to. You however are welcome to stay in my lodge with my household, we have plenty of room in my hall."
"I thank you for my offer, but I will stay with my men."
The old man smiled.
"You are a good leader to stay with your men, but do come in for a little while, I wish to hear of Edoras and your father." Theodred offered his thanks and handing Brego over to a stable lad he ordered his men to house themselves in the huts, then followed the old man inside the large wooden hall.
It was warm inside the lodge and a roaring peat fire blazed in the fire pit sending cheerful rays about the room.
"Sit." The old man said, indicating a small table and stools. After they were seated, "So, how goes it in Edoras and what of your father?"
"Edoras is still standing, but we know not how long the enemy will wait before he strikes. We have had many raids on our borders, which is what brings us here. We were planning to use this village as a base camp for a time till we can vanquish the raiding party that's been sacking to border villages."
"Aye, tis a wise plan, and you are welcome to stay as long as you like. My people and I will be glad of the protection your men offer. We to have heard of the raids, though there have not been any for several weeks, I surmise because of the cold. Orcs do not like snow. Now what of your father? I knew him long ago, I was once a courtier in Edoras, though you were to too young to remember me."
Theodred's face darkened some.
"My father is not the man he used to be. He seems to be slipping father and farther away from reality. Much of the time he seem ill, then others he is well, but his good days are few and far between. My cousins and I do not know what shall become of him." Lord Cedric nodded.
"Well, I pray he receives his strength back. A good leader your father, a good king too. You I can already see will be a good king as well."
"I do not think I will be half as good a king as my father."
"You will, no need to worry lad. You've got time." Theodred nodded and rose from the table, his helmet tucked under his arm.
"I thank you for your hospitality, but must take my leave." He then made his way out into the cold night air. His breath caught as an icy chill went through him. "Gets colder every year." He muttered. He slowly made his way to the empty hut where he had ordered Eghan to place his packs. He looked about to see thin columns of smoke rising from the now occupied huts. The townspeople, grateful for the protection had brought them slabs of venison and what meager vegetables they could spare from the stores of harvest. The prince lit his own fire and was stowing his gear away when there was a small knock on the door.
"Enter!" he called, glancing at the entrance. The door opened slowly and a young woman slipped in laden with a large covered basket. She was small and thin, wrapped in a large cloak that was drawn over her head so he could not see her face clearly, but a pair of spirited eyes met his own and a few stray auburn curls straggling below the hood. She curtsied low.
"My father requested I bring you some food. Where would you like the vittles?" she said softly, her voice low.
"On the table is fine." He said as he threw another chunk of peat onto the fire. Wiping his hands on his tunic he straitened. "What is your name?"
"Mira." The girl answered coldly.
"Well, Lady Mira, you may thank your father for me. My men and I are very grateful for his hospitality." She nodded and then disappeared out the door into the gathering dark. Theodred sat down to a warm meal and then with a full belly stretched out on the small cot, covering himself with his cloak and a heavy fur mantle he had brought. He was soon snoring soundly while the fire crackled heartily.
The next morning when Theodred awoke, the fire was merely a lump of red coal and the hut was freezing. Pulling both his cloak and mantle about him, he fed the fire till a healthy flame arose and then added more peat. After making a breakfast of the leftovers from the night before he went to go see about Brego. He opened the door but was met with snow up above his knees. Sighing he found a cudgel that was propped up against the wall and began the arduous task of driving the snow away from the path to the stables. He stared about the snowy village, his breath making little puffs of steam like a dragon breathing fire. There was no wind; just a calm white stillness, cold and sharp that seemed to cut thought one with an icy chill. A few straggling flakes still fell and he looked up at the clear blue sky to see a white sun struggling to melt the white blanket below. The homes were all covered in thick layers of white, as though someone had spread large white fur cloaks over them all. Finally he made it to the stables and with a struggling effort cleared the snow away from the door and opened it with a mighty pull. It was warmer inside the stable, and Theodred was pleased to find Brego well and hungry. He took a bale of hay and forked some into the feeding trough for the stallion. The horse whinnied happily in thanks and then drove his face into the sweet hay, eating hungrily. Theodred gave him a friendly pat and grabbed his cudgel again. Back in the cold outdoors, he blinked against the now driving wind. He hurried to get back to his cottage before the track was covered in snow again. Before ducking into his hut, he glanced down the village's row of cottages and thought he saw a lone, cloaked figure, standing in the middle of the square, watching him.