Recollection

Baan's increasingly tighter embrace urged Eafrida to wakefulness. They were each on their sides, facing one another. His arm beneath her head curled around her shoulders, and his clawed hand gripped her hard enough to leave fingermarks. His other arm encircled her waist.

The grey light of morning filtered through the small window-like openings and their filmy fabric coverings, informing Eafrida that she must leave Baan's bed lest her family discover her indiscretion. But the Orc's state gave her pause.

He was trembling all over. Eyes squeezed shut and a grimace contorting his face, he appeared to be in the throes of a most disturbing dream. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and tears seeped from his eyelids. From his quivering lips, growling sounds could be heard.

To her shock, he sounded as though he were begging.

Leaning closer, she listened hard, and soon made sense of the seemingly random murmuring.

Not... me... no... no... I didn't... no... don't... I don't... I don't... no... please... not me... it's not me... it's not me... not me... not... it's not... it's not me...

He appeared terribly distressed. Eafrida wondered if he saw memories, not simply his own mind's fancies. What ugliness was he witnessing? What visions tormented him so?

She could not help but feel relief that, whether truth or lies confronted him, he denied it. He did not want to be what he was seeing.

Her heart full of worry for him, she gently patted his cheek. "Baan," she whispered urgently. "Wake up, dear Baan. Please..."

Baan started awake, crying out loudly in a panic. He could barely breathe, and lay still as a fawn in the grass for a moment. Horrors had visited him in the night once again, already fading, soon to be forgotten. Yet the feel of them lingered. The fear, not his; the blood, not his; the pain, not his...

And here in his arms lay Eafrida, her wide eyed gaze upon him...

"Did I harm you?" he asked desperately. He never recalled what he dreamed, only the sense of it. Waking left him disoriented, unable to be sure what was real and what was illusion. With her so close, had he done something to her? Had the foul ugliness that lurked behind his eyes somehow spilled forth to engulf her as well?

"Of course you didn't," she said softly, forcing herself to smile reassuringly. Hearing her grandfather and step-mother stirring, undoubtedly disturbed by Baan's startled cry, Eafrida winced. "You must let me go," she whispered urgently. "Before they see..."

"What is the meaning of this?" Alric roared, and Eafrida flinched. Baan swiftly released her, but she did not hurry herself leaving his embrace. Whatever would be the point now?

"Eafrida!" Eadgyd's voice sounded strangled, she was so shocked. "What were you thinking? Such behavior!"

Eafrida could not take her eyes off Baan, and not because of what they shared in the night. He looked to be on the verge of panic, the way his eyes darted about. He seemed stricken that Alric was yelling at the top of his voice at him.

"I offered you shelter and kindness!" Alric snarled. "I supported your petition to join us! I trusted you!"

"Enough!" Eafrida yelled, rounding on her elders. Holding her head up with as much dignity as she could muster, she said, "He is blameless, grandfather. I went to his bed. Eadgyd, I was thinking of but one thing. A simple truth that..." She faltered. It had come to her in the quiet darkness, her cheek pressed to his softly rumbling chest, his arms protectively about her...

There was a dark mystery about Baan that she found enticing in its forbiddenness. She had to admit to herself over the course of the night that she found the underlying danger of being close to him exciting. His gentle nature drew her to him, regardless of what the consequences might be. She fairly hungered for him. But it was more than that... much more...

She had mulled it over for a good deal of the night, weighing her heart against the opinions of her family and her people, against the mystery of his past and its effect on him when his memories returned. Concluding that her heart had never failed her or guided her to misfortune before, she chose to hear its plea, not anyone else's.

"A simple truth," she continued firmly. "I love him."

Even as the weight of such a burden lifted from Eafrida's shoulders, Eadgyd wailed in dismay and sank to her knees as though the burden had shifted to her own shoulders. Alric stood in shock. He glanced down at the Orc, now sitting up and looking from one to the other in bewilderment. It struck Alric that Baan likely did not know what 'love' was, much less recognize the word.

Guilt racked the Orc and kept him silent, unable to meet any eyes. Alric's anger could only mean that he'd done a grievous wrong. He should not have... what? Eafrida came to him, he reminded himself. She clearly wanted him, if only for closeness. It was not as though Baan went to her pallet, nor did he press his need for mating when she rightly reminded him of its foulness.

Yet still... Alric was the leader, and had told Baan not to feel such urges for Eafrida. Because of Baan's weakness, he failed to obey. He hung his head in shame. Then he paused and frowned. Something was not right...

Finding his voice after a brief struggle, Alric breathed, "How... how can you be?"

Eafrida shrugged helplessly. "I do not know. I only know... that I love him." Each repetition seemed to warm her heart and strengthen her resolve. "I do love him."

"You have... you... have you lain with him, then?" Eadgyd asked, a horrified expression on her face.

Frowning, Eafrida shook her head. "No. Not at all."

Clutching her heart, Eadgyd sagged with relief. "Béma be praised," she sighed. "We shall tell no one of this. When Deorwine returns, perhaps you will come to your senses..."

"What... what are you saying?" Eafrida flared up. "My senses? I have not gone mad! And I have no intention of hiding how I feel! He has proven himself. Did you not say last even that Baan's actions had more than satisfied you?"

Flushing guiltily, Alric stammered, "That was before this! I told him to stay away from you..."

"No, you told him to stop looking at me," Eafrida retorted. "That is not the same. And quite ridiculous, I might add. How is he to avoid looking at me when he lives in the same camp?"

"That is entirely beside the point!" Alric barked.

"Where is milady?"

Baan's question halted the argument as effectively as water dousing a flame. Eyes flaring wide, Eadgyd rushed to the girl's pallet and tore the blanket off the bundle. While they argued, Baan had felt 'wrong,' as if there was something in the very air, aside from the raised tempers, that did not sit well with him. It took him several minutes to realize it was an absence of scent rather than a surfeit of it.

Letting out a strangled cry, Eadgyd whirled around and stared at Alric.

Furious, he in turn glared at Eafrida. "See what your selfishness has wrought? Had you not been engaged in a tryst, you might have stopped her!"

"How can you say that!" Eafrida cried, yet with a thread of guilt for her inattentiveness. "You cannot possibly know when she left!"

Growing impatient with their meaningless arguments and accusations, Baan lurched to his feet and stretched. "I'll go find her," he announced. No one appeared to be paying him any mind, so he sighed and left.

The sun was still at least an hour from rising when Baan emerged from the hut. Pitching his nose in the air, he gauged the wind's direction. It was blowing to the southeast; not good. The old camp was in the same direction, so anything that might come from there was downwind. Still, he knew Aelfled's scent well, and picked up her tracks heading back toward the old camp.

Frowning, he drew his sword. He didn't like how quiet it was. He tested the air again.

The silence was broken by Eadgyd rushing from the tent, calling Aelfled's name loudly and wildly. Eafrida and Alric were fast on her heels, and their calls roused the rest of the encampment's folk. All emerged bleary-eyed and cross, but Baan had no thoughts to spare for them. A small figure was approaching as though all the bad people in the world were after it.

Running to meet her, Baan picked up the exhausted and terrified Aelfled and hurried back. Her small arms encircled his neck and held on tightly as she sobbed with relief. Eadgyd was the first to reach them, but was unable to get the girl to let go of 'her Baan.'

"Orcs!" Aelfled finally blurted breathlessly, and released Baan enough to point back over his shoulder. Then her eyes shot open wider and she screamed so loud she hurt his ear.

The camp erupted in chaos as children were rushed into Hengist's tent and everyone old enough to fight drew sword to meet the onslaught. Perhaps a dozen Orcs, annoyed beyond their tolerance for having to spend half the night chasing a little whelp just close enough to keep her moving, bellowed their war cries and swept into the camp.

Beornflaede collared her son, staring with mouth agape. "Into Hengist's tent! Quickly!" she cried, turning and pushing Redwald along. Baan had dropped Aelfled quickly to draw his sword, and she now stood frozen in terror.

"Come on!" Osgar barked, taking her wrist and yanking her hard to wake her from her stupor. He likewise grabbed his cousin, Theodhilde, and dragged both shocked girls toward the safety of the elder's shelter. Once Beornflaede ensured the children were gathered, she fetched her infant daughter from Sighard's hut and ducked back inside to join them. She had to quickly shift Emma to one arm in order to grab Osgar before he ran back out, his knife drawn.

"Where do you think you are going?" she hissed.

"I can help," he replied, shaking all over and trying to free himself.

"You'll do no such thing," Beornflaede snapped. "If you wish to help, you will stay here and protect your mother and these children."

"What is going on?" Mildgyde asked feebly. "What is happening?"

"Orcs," Beornflaede replied. "Many of them. More than you faced." Mildgyd's face contorted with fear.

Osgar hesitated, caught between devotion to the only family member left to him, and defense of the clan. Seeing his conflict, Beornflaede softened.

"Your place is here," she said firmly. "Your mother cannot lift a sword. She needs you."

Glancing back at Mildgyd's helplessly terrified face, Osgar nodded. Too weak to rise, she reached for him gratefully as he knelt at her side.

"I could not bear to lose you as well," she whispered. He let her take his hand.

Beornflaede sighed with relief and finally drew her sword. Standing by the entrance, she prepared herself in case... just in case. She made herself focus on the rug over the doorway, rather than allowing her gaze to drift over the children, or worse, her new baby. She did not wish to imagine what terrible fate would befall them if...

Aelfled's entire family was engaged in the battle, and she felt completely alone. Theodhilde held on to her cousin Cearl, a boy too young to tolerate hugs from girls for long before fussing impatiently. Though Redwald looked nearly ready to pull her to his side, Aelfled was not remotely confident in his ability to defend her.

No, when the monsters came, or the wild animals threatened her, or bad dreams disturbed her, only Osgar was brave and bold enough. Aelfled scooted up against his other side and wrapped her arms about his waist. It pleased her that he only hesitated a moment before putting his arm around her shoulders.

She hoped Baan would not be jealous.

Baan's grudgingly tolerated companion, the bloodthirsty one, unleashed his full fury on the bad people. His sword drew their blood; in a frenzy of his own, Baan lopped the arm off one and clawed at the stump, soaking his fingers in gore. Sucking the blood off, he felt himself tipping over the edge, and this time let himself go. He bellowed with rage, and body-slammed the nearest Orc, forcefully interrupting its battle with Eafrida. Baan possessed just enough of his own will to check her over for injury, then he launched himself upon the stunned Orc.

Eafrida backed away from the display of Baan's violent fury, only to find herself in another fight. The sides were nearly evenly matched, yet the Rohirrim were better disciplined and so were at a slight advantage. They also had an even bigger Orc on their side.

Sighard matched blows with a wiry little Orc that seemed to delight in putting the elder through his paces. Never close enough to kill, the Orc darted in and out of reach, cackling wildly. To add insult to injury, he sometimes spun on one foot to deliver a strike with more flair. The elder had nearly lost his temper when he spied his wife behind the mocking trickster. Flicking his eyes back to the Orc, he pressed the attack just long enough to get the Orc's full attention.

Beornwyn's sword thrust through the Orc's chest put a comically stunned look on his face. Sighard smirked at him as he slid to the ground.

"Well played, my love," he called, and she saluted grimly before turning her attention to the Orc harrying Godgyfu. Sighard himself rushed to Cynburga's aid, for Hengist was engaged at Cynwise's side, one Orc already dead at their feet.

A pained cry was heard over the clash of swords and grunting roars of the Orcs, and Eafrida slashed the arm of her foe and ducked away to give what aid she could. Taking a leaf from Baan's book, she barrelled into the Orc getting the better of Ebba, and together the two young women put an end to the attack. Ebba could spare only a brief nod of thanks before the Orc Eafrida avoided caught up to her.

Though both women went on the defensive, the Orc seemed only interested in Eafrida. Deftly dodging Ebba's swing, he punched her square in the face, sending her sprawling. Then he grabbed Eafrida and flung her bodily away from the chaos. Before she could scramble back to her feet, he was upon her.

Baan's attention was sharply focused on an Orc he'd distracted from attempting to gut Wilburh. Deorwine's mother was not as accomplished with the sword as her sisters-in-law, and the Orc would have put an end to her had Baan not barged in.

Nothing could have broken through Baan's battle fury except the last thing he ever wanted to hear. Eafrida's scream, though difficult for others to distinguish from any other sound on the battlefield, cut so sharply through the fog that Baan froze where he stood, arm pulled back to deliver the killing blow. His head swiveled in Eafrida's direction.

He couldn't see much between the shifting bodies engaged in pitched battle all around, but he caught flashes of what he knew to be Eafrida's dress, and the dark form of a bad person...

Rage consumed him and he swiftly killed the Orc he held at bay. Breaking into a run, he pushed past or jumped over everyone in his path until his view was no longer obstructed, and he could see... The Orc had Eafrida down, tearing her dress to shreds, trying to get through the layers to what lay within. Her sword was gone, and though she fought like a wildcat, her assailant straddled her body and could not be dislodged.

The leering grin and frenzied assault told Baan the Orc had one goal in mind, and his instincts screamed a protest. What the Orc sought belonged to him, and no other could lay claim to it. With a roar, Baan sprinted toward them and leaped, hitting the Orc's torso with the force of a charging bull. The Orc was carried several feet by Baan's momentum, the wind knocked from his lungs. Though he held his sword in his hand, Baan punched and beat the Orc about the face with his balled-up fists. He did not stop until well after the Orc had gone limp.

Lurching to his feet, he turned his still-wild eyes on Eafrida and strode to her sobbing form. His blood ran hot enough to scorch, and he needed something to quench it. The familiarity of the woman with the torn dress, trembling in terror, drew him to her. With cold determination, he dropped to his knees and pushed her legs apart, then ripped her under clothes open.

"Baan!" Eafrida screamed, kicking at him as he moved closer. She tried to rise and he pushed her back down with a snarl. He didn't look at her face; he was focused on his hands as his claws shredded their way through what remained of her clothing. "Baan!" she cried again, and slapped him across the face.

He looked up at her and growled, curling his lip, then quite suddenly, his face changed. Horrified shock washed over him, and he froze, his mouth hanging open. He stared at her tear-streaked, terrified face, then slowly looked down at what he had done. Her dress was ripped wide open, as was her chemise. Her underclothes, the last bulwark against him, was nearly breached. He began to shake.

"Baan?" Eafrida whimpered, cautiously pulling her dress closed.

He appeared close to vomiting, and almost unable to breathe. Lips trembling, he whispered, "I... I... Eafrida... I... I'm not... Baan." Slowly backing away, he shook his head, his face a rictus of horror. "Not... Baan." His eyes pleaded with her, as though she might have the power to change what he now knew was true. "I am... I am Ashtakash." He flinched, as if the name alone caused him terrible pain. Looking toward the remnants of the battle, he began to gasp as though he could no longer breathe. "I'm... one of them."

Retreating further away from her, he staggered to his feet and stumbled blindly away.

Eafrida gasped for breath, clutching her ruined dress. Glancing back at the battle, she forced herself to note how her folk fared. The tide appeared to be turning; the Orcs' numbers were diminished, and no longer fought one to one, but were now engaging two Rohirrim or more each. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to her feet.

I must follow him, she told herself as she turned away from the camp. He is Baan, no matter what he may recall.

Yet she picked up her sword and clutched the hilt tightly. Taking a deep breath, she followed.