Part 138 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.
A/N: Have had the kernel of this idea for some time, but only now really got inspired to flesh it out.
Eadig
(January, 18 IV)
Garod raised his hand to bring the eored to a halt. In the King's lands, there were various men who kept an eye on the king's property and insured that it was unmolested. Three such stewards now stood before them, having another man subdued in their hold. All looked up at the approaching Riders, and the three nodded cordially to Garod.
"What goes on here?" he asked curiously, eyeing the man they held. He was clearly a peasant, dressed in ragged, worn clothing that barely kept out the winter chill. Even so, there was fire in his eyes.
"Captain, we found this man stealing from the king and will see that he is punished," one responded. Though they had responsibility for apprehending criminals, the task of punishing or imprisoning them fell to the Marshals of the Mark, and the Captains of the eoreds were the first line in that process. Thus Garod's presence meant responsibility now fell to him to deal with this situation.
Loudly he called out, "Freawine! Forward!"
Startled, the youth rode quickly to the front as his companions gave way. He pulled to a stop beside Garod and awaited further instructions. At only eighteen years, he was still rather low in the ranks, so he had not expected to be so summoned.
Garod said nothing further to him, instead directing a question to the prisoner. "Why have you stolen from your sovereign?"
The man struggled against the hands that held him, angrily responding, "My family is cold and hungry! The king has plenty! Does he begrudge me providing for my little ones and my wife?"
"What has he stolen?" Garod inquired of the man's captors.
"He has killed several rabbits, and cut down one of the king's trees," was the defensive answer.
Turning to Freawine, Garod asked casually, "You know the king rather well, lad. What would he do in this instance?"
Freawine shifted nervously, uneasy about being put on the spot like this, but in his heart he was certain of the answer. "He…Eomer King is most generous, sir. If the man's family is truly in need, he would gladly share, and offer more than was taken." He sat stiffly, awaiting Garod's response.
A slow smile slipped over the Captain's face. "I think you must be right, Freawine. I have never known Eomer King to indulge himself while others suffer." Turning back to the group before him, he asked the prisoner, "Where do you live?"
The man pointed off to his left. "That way, about half a league."
"Half a league?" Garod raised a surprised eyebrow. "That is quite a distance to go for firewood."
"There is nothing nearer!" the man spat defiantly. "Would that there was!"
Glancing at the captors, Garod instructed, "Help him up behind Freawine. We will go and see if his claims are true. The rest of you will wait here. Alric, come with us."
Once the man was settled nervously behind Freawine, and hanging on for dear life since he had never before been on a horse, they set out in the direction he indicated. On horseback, it did not take long to reach a ramshackle cottage. At the sound of hooves, a small boy peeked out the door at them, rubbing an arm over his runny nose. Not until they had dismounted did he spot his father and rush out to fling himself in his arms. "Papa!"
The man hugged him close, eyeing the others belligerently. Garod gestured toward the house, and the man led the way inside. A woman holding a toddler looked up with frightened eyes, shooting her husband a questioning look. "This is my wife, Maestfor," he introduced. "I am Fromscur and this is my son, Micellig. My wife holds our daughter." He hesitated a moment, then snarled, "Who may not be with us long if we cannot keep her warm. She already has taken a fever!"
Garod nodded to Alric to check on the infant, and he moved hesitantly toward the woman, reaching for the child. She reluctantly passed the baby over when her husband nodded consent. Alric's mother had been sickly for a number of years, so he was well familiar with the sickroom. Laying a hand against the child's face, he nodded confirmation to Garod that the baby was indeed unwell. There could be little argument about the other claim, that they were cold, for stepping into the house had afforded little change in temperature.
With a gesture, Garod had Alric return the infant and he moved toward the door, signaling his Riders to follow. Uncertainly, Fromscur set down his son and trailed behind them into the yard. The three men mounted their horses while Fromscur awaited his fate.
"Are there others around here who suffer as you do?" Garod asked quietly.
Fromscur seemed surprised by the question, but nodded affirmingly.
Garod sighed, then assured him, "Help is on the way. We will return as quickly as possible."
To Fromscur's surprise, the three rode away without further conversation, leaving him utterly confused. Not sure what else to do, he moved back inside with his family to wait and see if the Riders made good on their promise.
Returning to the eored, a group was dispatched to Aldburg to collect wagons of food, clothing and medicine. Three men set to work with small hand axes to cut up the tree into manageable portions and then they tied ropes to it and set off for the homestead. The three stewards stood sullenly watching the proceedings, a fact that did not escape Garod's attention.
Approaching them, he said, "Eomer King has given you responsibility to watch over his property, but he would not turn away those in need. If you encounter such again, and their need is real, you are to give them whatever they require, and notify Marshal Elfhelm or Captain Eothain at once. I shall check back periodically to see how things are going here." There was no mistaking the intent of his last remark; they had better do as instructed or suffer the consequences. Even without Freawine's assessment of what the king would wish, Garod felt certain it was the correct course.
Fromscur was astonished when the Riders arrived with the tree, and used his larger axe to chop it into firewood for him. Bundling some of the wood, they had him instruct them where to take it to others in dire straits, and set off once more. A few hours later, Riders again appeared, this time accompanying two bulging wagonloads of supplies that they distributed, taking Fromscur along to guide them where else it was needed.
When he returned home a few hours later, his wife met him with tears in her eyes, hugging him tightly. "The medicine is already helping!" she exclaimed. "The baby is now resting easier!"
He held her close and fought to restrain his own tears. The past few years had been hard, and he had resented it when he had heard their king called Eadig – blessed. He had wondered why a king should be blessed while his people suffered. Now he could only think the title appropriate for such a man who would care about even the lowliest of the Eorlingas. Never again would he think ill of Eomer King; never again would he allow anyone to speak harshly of the man. Here was ample evidence of his goodness.
THE END
3/12/07
Fromscur – "swift storm"; Maestfor – "great journey"; Micellig – "powerful flame"
End note: It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.