Chapter 12. The exams are almost over, but I promise you, the action in Rohan is just beginning.
As soon as he could leave politely Jake did so, as keen to escape the incomprehensible silent conversation going on between the matriarchs as to tell Brasfain what he had heard. Racing up to the hall he was careful to watch out for any blushing girls he might knock down and be invited to lunch with. When he reached his goal he asked his friendly bake cook where Brasfain would be, as she had been baking his favourite honey cakes and would therefore almost certainly have seen him since Jake had.
"He's in the stables lad; a messenger's come from the army and you know the lad; he's all ears for any news of his father."
Jake quickly hurried in that direction, but when he poked his head around the doors he didn't see even a stable boy there. At the other end of the long room, flanked on each side with stalls there was a door that adjoined a guard's communal room and he made for it, guessing Brasfain was on the other side of it listening to the courier's stories.
He almost missed the quiet sound of muffled sobs from beside the legs of a brown horse (or bay as Brasfain would insist upon calling an animal with the dark mane and tail so common to the breed). He blanched when he saw who it was. His friend was sitting, half covered in the loose straw of the box, his back resting against the board wall between the stalls and his head on his chest.
"Brasfain?" he said quietly, unsure of how to help the younger boy.
"Go away." The sound was partly blanketed by the hands that had been stuffed in front of Brasfain's face to hide the tears and Jake was at a loss. He had never found Brasfain to be anything but cheerful and high spirited.
"Brasfain, what's wrong?"
"S'my Da."
"Your father?" Jake was horrified; had his friend's father been a casualty of army the two men near the inn had spoken of. "Is he..?"
"He'll never ride again." He had stood up, buried his face in the horse's mane to dry his cheeks and was now staring at Jake with a mixture of anger and shame.
"Well, at least he's alive." Jake knew the words were a mistake as soon as they fell from his lips
Brasfain looked up from the floor and Jake was quite shocked at his friend's face. "What kind of life is it if he can't ride a horse? How much better for him to die and save himself from the humiliation of being taken home in a cart like a cripple, hobbling when he walks, never to ride into battle again?! It's worse than death!"
Jake slumped down in the next stall, blocking Brasfain from his view and giving the boy some privacy. Finally, after perhaps fifteen minutes had passed and the sniffling had entirely stopped he ventured to speak.
"What did the messenger say about the war?"
"It's all bad. The enemy has many times the force we thought and the army under the command of Erkenbrand has been separated from the king."
"Erkenbrand?"
"Erkenbrand!" the anger was being directed full force at Jake, he suspected, in an attempt on Brasfain's part to relieve himself of his grief. "Why do you know nothing of the mark? A new born babe in its cradle knows more than you." Suddenly his friend was standing over him, blocking out the light from the stall. And he had a sword.
"How do I know you aren't the one who's been telling the King's movements to the enemy? Get up; I'll fight you, I will!"
He brandished the sword and Jake leapt up, realising that Brasfain was in earnest.
"How could I be feeding information to the enemy? I'm always with you- you'd see me if I did anything suspicious!"
"Oh yeah, and what about last night; you missed dinner, and today- don't tell me you stayed at the smithy through lunch, for I'll have none of your lies. I swear it; I'll run you through if you don't tell me exactly what's going on!"
"Brasfain I've done nothing. Honest. You can ask the innkeeper, or Gerthwyr, or anyone!"
The sword was still at his throat, and he was backed up against the wooden boarding separating them from the next stall, splinters pressing into his back through the shirt. As the blade forced him to lean even further back there was an almighty crack, and Jake was just in time to see the door to the guard room burst open before it broke entirely, the horse leaping out of the way in time leaving Jake to land in a heap of split wood, dirty hay and dung.
"What in Arda do you two think you're doing?" Brasfain cried out in pain as one of the guards twisted his wrist, making him drop the sword. Another hauled Jake to his feet none too gently. "You'll put that stall to rights yourselves, i can tell you that much!" The first guard had Brasfain by the scruff of his neck while he tried to get hold of his dropped sword, squirming to free himself.
"Let me go! Let me at him!"
The guard looked from Brasfain to Jake and back again.
"What's the fight about? Oh, oh Valar! You're Brasfer's boy aren't you? I'm sorry for your loss lad but I can't see as your da would be happy to see you scrapping like this. Now I won't tell Seorwyn, seeing as you've got enough in your pasture already, but i want to know what was going on." He had released Brasfain's collar but he had him in a formidable shoulder grip. The boy wriggled, trying to get rid of the firm grasp but was forced to stand there sullenly, glaring at Jake.
"He's a spy!"
"A spy?" None of the men wore their 'understanding' faces now; they were looking at Jake warily, and a sharp pain coursed down his arm as he too was seized. "What's this boy? What have you to say for yourself?"
"I'm not!" he looked around desperately, hoping to see a flicker of friendliness in any of the surrounding men, but they stared at him like stones. "Honestly! I'm not a spy! Why would Gandalf leave me here if I was?"
The man holding Brasfain nodded slowly. "That's true I suppose but…"
"Well Gandalf's left you hasn't he? That's what you were saying; he's gone off and left the army, and the King and the marshal! What's to say he's not a traitor too?" Jake was released and he glanced up in surprise, but his former captor was grinning across at Brasfain.
"You don't stay to listen at doors long enough do you boy? Gandalf's gone off somewhere, that's for sure, but he's not abandoned us; he's left us another King!"
Brasfain's attempted assault on Jake was suddenly halted. "What?"
"Aragorn; that fellow, the dark haired one who came with the elf and the dwarf, in fact he's come to this part of the world before, as Thorongil or something. Better than a wizard I can tell you, even if he did take Shadowfax with him. Anyway, he's a King, or so they say."
"King of where?" Jake could see Brasfain had lost all thoughts of spies, but understood his continued sulkiness; embarrassment and chagrin were probably battling his curiosity.
"Well, not King yet you understand, and he doesn't like to talk about it himself, but he's supposed to be the rightful King of Gondor."
"Gondor? Hat's the use of him then; the Gondorians didn't help save our horses did they?" He turned away and the soldiers winked at each other.
"Well, I suppose not much now I think about it. Not interesting enough to talk about certainly. In fact, we'll just leave you to get on with your little carpentry job shall we?"
"No!" the boy spun around so fast the straw around his feet were briefly lifted by the breeze. "I mean…well you'd better tell Jake, he's foreign and such so he'll probably want to know about it."
"Well Jake had better come with us into the guard room, so as not to bore you with the listening you know." Brasfain's face split into a sly grin; he had evidently caught on to the game.
"Oh but you forget he's supposed to help me, and if you'll be telling him then you'd better do it now before you forget and everything."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, oh and maybe you could help us, with your soldierly strength and all, I mean it'd be no trouble at all to you…" he was rewarded with a friendly clip around the ear but it was not long before the guards were indeed pitching in to help.
Unfortunately, they were left to finish on their own, for half way through the job they were interrupted.
"What in Arda are you doing?" All four looked up, and were met by an irritated glare.
"Oh, my lady! Er, there was a slight accident, we were,"
"Leave it! I wish to know the exact course of our forces." She was just turning to go when she caught sight of the guard, "Are you not supposed to be at your post at this time? Get to it quickly, and you two," she stared slowly at Jake, her gaze moving painfully slowly from his tanned leather boots, now covered in mud to his hair, which he suspected was filled with all kinds of muck, most of it rather more organic than what he got if he fell over on the Astroturf at home, "Make sure you don't leave any extra work for the ostlers in here. They have enough to do already."
Brasfain nodded, bowing his head. "You're Brasfer's boy aren't you? I am sorry for your loss lad."
Without another word she was gone and the two boys were left alone in the stables. Jake breathed a sigh of relief, for so far the Lady Éowyn had hardly proved a friend to him, but when he glanced at Brasfain he was surprised to see the younger boy gazing at the door with a dreamy look on his face.
"Brasfain?" his friend glanced up startled from his reverie and a blush spread over his features. "You know Brasfain if I didn't know better I'd say you were a bit sweet on Lady Éowyn."
"Me? Oh no, I mean it's because of her brother you know, because he's such a great fighter and all. Though she's nearly as good I would say." His voice, though as scornful as possible was not forceful enough to belie his face which was still red, but Jake was no longer thinking about romance and did not notice.
'As bad as her brother?' where had those words come from? "The men outside the inn!"
"What?"
"As bad as her brother! The men outside the inn; they were talking about the lady Éowyn!" Brasfain was staring at him with raised eyebrows, and Jake, confused as he was, endeavoured to provide an explanation for his outburst.
"These two men, near where Gertwyr's staying. They were talking about the Lady Éowyn when they said she was as bad as her brother! And that's why one of them was worried, because she might be able to get away and then…and then…" Jake trailed off as the other remnants of the conversation he had heard came back to him. "no one will hear her"
"What are you going on about?" Jake grabbed Brasfain's shoulders fiercely in realisation.
"Those men; they're planning to kill Éowyn then take over Edoras!"
"What? Are you crazy!"
"No, honest; the blacksmith is involved, and, and that eastfolding you said didn't look like an eastfolding, and at least two others and, and… and not Seorwyn!"
"Not Seorwyn? And why wouldn't the housekeeper of the golden hall not be involved in a plot to overthrow the house of Eorl? Look Jake, I'm sorry about what happened before but there's really no call for you to make fun just because I suggested you might be a spy."
"No! No, no, no! At the blacksmiths the eastfolding turned up and him and the blacksmith were talking about killing her horse first, and that the, the 'distraction', had agreed to the plan the night before, and Brasfain I heard him agreeing last night outside the inn after I took Gertwyr home, then missed dinner, remember? And honest to god, I bet that more of those new refugees are part of it, and there were saying as how they'd get their weapons straight from Seorwyn herself because,"
"Because their going to be part of the new guard!" a look of disbelieving credence dawned on the other boys face. "Are you sure about this? Totally sure!"
"Yes!"
"Well if that's right then… When did they say they would do it?"
Jake racked his brain but couldn't remember any dates. "I don't know; they didn't say." He thought of the men in the smithy, remembering the apprentice quaking as the blacksmith took his anger out on him, of the threats he himself had received of beatings and the feel of the knife. He hadn't liked the sound of the men by the inn either, the worried whining voice of the man he now knew as 'the distraction' and the bullying certainty of the other. Even the Lady Éowyn had never done anything to him that was cruel, as such. His life here was good, if not easy, and any tasks he found hard were not that way intentionally, but through necessity. He would not have her dead, but could he prevent it if what the men had said was true; that even the army of the King would be obliterated. He shivered at the thought of the men's words 'like rats in a trap'. He thought of how many other boys would be like Brasfain soon, or worse, without fathers and dead themselves. "Brasfain do you think they could really do it then?"
Brasfain was chewing the nail of his index finger, his brow wrinkled in thought.
"Well not if we stop them!"
Thankyou to all my reviewers, with special mention to Larner, who has written a brilliant fic about Frodo's childhood. Hasten there if you wish to find a stunningly written piece, with non smutty or offensive humour and sweet little Merry and Pippin. Link's on my favourites list (or will be in a sec)
