To the King

Chapter Thirty-Eight

What Do I Do Now?

"As we know, there are known knowns. There are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns. That is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns, the ones we don't know we don't know." Donald Rumsfeld

Liam quickly organized his men as they gathered the prisoners from the mines together. Those most ill or injured were assisted by others. Dageth wanted to have a litter made for Erkenbrand, but the Marshal adamantly refused, glaring at the man who offered him a shoulder to lean upon. "There is still enough of a man left in me to fight," growled the Marshal.

Hamm whistled softly, and the man Liam assigned to keep watch out front, answered with the agreed upon call. Satisfied it was safe to proceed, Hamm sprinted back to the gathered group. "The way is clear. Let us get out of this hole." Being confined inside the mines for even this short time had brought back too many bad memories for Hamm. Even the smell of captivity seemed the same, and he felt it clinging to him with icy tendrils, as though wanting to drag him back to that place of horrors in the past.

The farrier jumped when a hand was laid on his shoulder, interrupting his morbid thoughts.

"Come on," said Liam, "we are going."

Hamm took a quick, calming breath, and forced his mind back to the present and the danger they still faced. "Gladly."

Dageth and Raolf led the group away from the mines and towards the village, picking their way carefully along the path in the darkness. As they neared a cottage, the owner's dog began to bark. The tiny house and surrounding yard was neat and tidy. Smoke curled from the chimney and light could be seen behind a shuttered window. To the wary and anxious men the dog sounded much louder than it really was, and they all ducked into the shadows waiting for discovery. The door to the cottage opened and a young woman stood silhouetted in the doorway. Several children could be seen playing behind her.

"Stay here, children; I will be right back." She stepped out warily and closed the door behind her.

"Hillis!" breathed Raolf. The warrior could not stop the name from leaving his lips as the young woman he loved more than anything in the world stepped into view.

"Who is there?" cried Hillis, afraid that the plans had gone awry, and Gilmóod's men were now searching the houses. Dear Béma, she had a cottage full of children to protect!

Raolf quickly stepped from the shadows before one of the others became fearful of her making too much noise.

Seeing the shadow move towards her, Hillis shrunk back in fear.

"Hillis, it is Raolf." He stopped his advance so that she would not feel threatened. "Do not fear me, love."

At the sound of his voice she stopped, but it was so dark that she could not see clearly. "Raolf?" The young woman could hardly breathe, so afraid was she that this could not be true.

"I am coming forward; do not be afraid." Raolf quickly covered the ground and caught Hillis as her knees momentarily gave way. "Here, love, it is all right."

Quickly recovering her spunk, Hillis threw her arms around Raolf's neck as though afraid to let go. "I thought you were dead!"

Liam sprinted over to the pair. "Later lovebirds; I am afraid there is no time now for a reunion. Where are we supposed to meet Barech?"

Hillis nodded and looked at Liam. "By the old potter's house... I cannot lead you for I am watching over many of the children."

Liam nodded. "We will find it. Lead the way, Raolf."

Raolf kissed Hillis on the forehead. "Keep the children inside until you know it is safe."

"I will," Hillis nodded. As he started to leave she grabbed his arm and pulled him back for a real kiss. "That is to remind you what you have to live for."

Raolf held her tightly. "What do you think has kept me alive all this time?"

Dageth walked over to join the trio. "Hillis, we have many men who are ill. Are there any women still in the village that can see to them?"

"Oh Dageth! I am glad that you are well." Hillis had not seen the scout since the last time she had treated his shoulder. His question finally penetrated her thoughts. So much was happening so quickly that the young woman was fairly overwhelmed. "Yes," Hillis replied quickly. "Bring them in here and I will care for them."

"No," Raolf shook his head, countermanding her idea. "They would frighten the children as they are."

"All right," Hillis said, thinking. "Lay them here beside the house and I will send one of the older children for women to help. Let your mind be at ease for them, Raolf. We will see that they are cared for."

The weakened and ill men were quickly laid down in the soft grass beside the cabin. After spending so many months on the rocky floor of the mines, the grass seemed as soft as a down mattress to the men, and they filled their nostrils with the fresh scent as they gazed hungrily at the stars overhead.

Those men still remaining, including the ever stubborn Marshal Erkenbrand, steeled themselves for the coming fight. As Raolf led the way, they each made their peace with whatever was to come.

O-o-O-o-O

Upstairs in the Manor House, Faramir and Barech were ready to go back down to the kitchen. Barech had told the Steward of a back set of stairs from which they could access the rooms on the back part of the house without being seen from the Great Room., and the pair now prepared to leave.

Looking back at Éowyn, Faramir nodded. "You remember what I said." He looked at Hálith and added, "both of you."

Barech and Margeth needed no words. After so many years of marriage, as with many couples who lived a lifetime together, their eyes and hearts said it all."

"Éowyn," Faramir stressed, almost desperate to make sure she would not put herself in danger. "At all costs, Éomer must not be allowed to ride into a trap!"

Éowyn bristled, but held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to send Faramir off to battle with angry words between them. She was no fool; she knew the odds were against them.

Faramir saw her face flush and knew he had pricked her temper just enough. With a wink, he slipped out the door with Barech.

Margeth chuckled despite her fear for Barech. "He is a charmer, that one."

O-o-O-o-O

Faramir followed Barech down the back stairway. He paused while Barech went into the kitchen to check that it was safe for him to follow. It was rare for one of Gilmóod's men to enter the kitchens – usually they just shouted their instructions – but it was not unheard of. Once he determined that the way was clear, Barech motioned Faramir to enter.

The Steward was immediately concerned when he saw that none of the other group was here. He pushed the door to the great room slightly opened so that he could peer into the room. It would help him to get an idea of the layout. Faramir would press any advantage he could see.

Barech nearly had heart failure when he saw Faramir peeking into the great room and immediately pulled him back. "Are you out of your mind...my Lord?"

"I do not think so," replied Faramir dryly.

"What if you had been seen?"

"I am quite used to being not seen, my friend," replied the Steward. He scanned the room noting that the wily cooks had laid out an assortment of knives and utensils that would be suitable as weapons. He smiled his appreciation for their ingenuity to the ladies, and then signaled Barech to check the back door.

Barech went outside to look around and then came back inside. "There is no sign of anyone out there."

Faramir frowned at the news. "You had better take me to where the men were supposed to be armed by your people. If something is wrong it would be better to know it now."

"Come then," said Barech. He led the way back outside and the pair quickly disappeared into the darkness.

O-o-O-o-O

Gilmóod was sweating now, but thanks to the buzz in hishead, he did not care. The room spun slightly as he surveyed his table. Bewon was telling another of his stories that had several of the men laughing hysterically. That caused Gilmóod to frown, for he enjoyed being the center of attention. His fist slammed down on the table accompanied by a shouted, "Enough!" He glared as all gathered grew quiet. That was better!

The master of the manor stood and fixed Bewon, who only an hour or so earlier had been his new favorite, with an evil smile. "How would you like to join Scaro as my newest crow-scare? I understand you have another pole in readiness.

"I thought that was for Erkenbrand!" protested one of the ruffians, too drunk or too slow to pick up on the master's sudden shift of mood. He did not get the chance to hear the answer before he found Gilmóod's knife protruding from his neck. His breath rattled as his brain registered its last thoughts before his head dropped onto the table.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew chill as the men at the table sobered. Even through the wine and ale induced haze they recognized danger. Like animals of prey, their senses were honed from the many years at war.

"Barech!" hollered Gilmóod, without even turning around. "Remove this refuse from my table."

Áríc hurried forward to drag the much larger man from the table. While he wrestled with trying to get the legs untangled from the bench, Gilmóod's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" he growled, "and where is Barech?"

Áríc paused, fighting to remain calm. He lowered the dead weight back onto the seat so that he could bow to Gilmóod. "Barech has taken ill, Lord Gilmóod, and I am Áríc, his replacement."

Gilmóod eyed the man with suspicion. He had not risen to power without being a cautious man. "I did not give Barech leave to be away from his duties." He glanced back towards the kitchens. "Is his woman here where she belongs?"

Áríc bowed his head again. "Aye, Lord Gilmóod, Margeth is seeing to the Lady Éowyn."

Gilmóod's face brightened as he suddenly remembered his beautiful captive and the plans he had for her. "Ah yes...Lady Éowyn..." He turned to Bewon. "Bewon, bring the lovely lady downstairs to join us."

Raucous laughter erupted from the men at that pronouncement. Several banged their hands on the table in approval as shouts of encouragement rang out.

"Bring her down..."

"Let us see this flower of Eorl..."

"Let us see what she can do!"

Gilmóod, his mood much improved by the enthusiasm of the men, motioned for Áríc to hurry in the removal of the dead body. It would not do, after all, to have the Lady's appetite spoiled by the grisly sight. He warmed to the idea of humbling the King's sister before his men. 'Perhaps,' he mused, 'he might even tame her.'

O-o-O-o-O

Upstairs in Éowyn's room, Hálith heard the sudden burst of laughter and had the bad feeling that it did not bode well for them. He had been listening intently at the door for the sounds of battle; ready to protect Éowyn and Margeth or lead them to safety should things go badly for Lord Faramir's attack. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and hissed at the women. "Hide the weapon." On impulse, Hálith ran across the room and gave Éowyn the dagger Faramir had given him, while Margeth dropped the cleaver into the deep pocket of her apron.

Éowyn took the dagger from Hálith. "Quickly," she cried, "hide under the bed."

"No," argued Hálith.

"Now," the Shield Maiden commanded, and there was no arguing with her tone of voice.

Reluctantly, the boy slid under the bed not a moment too soon.

As the door to the room slammed open, Éowyn slipped the dagger up the sleeve of her dress, thankful she had worn one that had the sleeves secured at the wrists by ties. Both women spun to face the door, surprised at the forceful opening even though they had expected someone to come.

Bewon's huge body filled the doorway and the brute stood there a moment just leering at Éowyn. "You are a pretty thing..." He licked his lips in anticipation.

Éowyn was not about to be intimidated. She threw back her head defiantly and stepped in front of Margeth. "How dare you enter my room uninvited!"

"You are wanted downstairs, my Lady." He spat out the last word.

Unmoving, Éowyn glared at the man.

Bewon smiled. He had hoped for an excuse to get his hands on her. He crossed the room in three quick steps and grabbed Éowyn's arms in two bruising grips. Slowly he pulled her against his chest until his foul breath was in her face.

Instead of cowering like he expected, Éowyn brought her knee up in a quick jab to the man's groin.

The maneuver, taught to her by Éomer, had the desired results. Bewon's eyes bulged out and the breath exploded from his lungs as he released Éowyn and fell to the floor in agony.

"Margeth, come..." Éowyn turned back to take the woman's hand. She almost called for Hálith when laughter from the doorway stopped her cold. Straightening her back and composing her face, Éowyn turned back to the door and found who she expected.

Gilmóod was leaning casually against the frame, his legs crossed at the ankle. He tilted his head and clapped his hands in a mock salute. "Oh well done, Shield Maiden. I should have expected no less, but I find that I am quite...aroused...by your skills."

His oily voice made shivers of disgust roll down Éowyn's back.

Gilmóod strolled over to where Bewon lay writhing on the floor. "Get up, you miserable cur. You had better hope that I forget seeing you put your hands on her or you will not have to worry about such an injury ever again. Now get out!"

Bewon half crawled and scurried as quickly as he could to the doorway and pulled himself up there. Before leaving he looked back at Éowyn, his malevolent glare full of the promise of retribution."

Gilmóod gallantly held out his arm. "My lady, please join us."

Éowyn refused the arm. "Your manners cannot mask what you are, Gilmóod."

The handsome face hardened. "Very well... I had hoped to do this the easy way, but if you prefer I can be as coarse as you want." He grabbed her arm and started across the room, dragging Éowyn behind him.

Margeth caught sight of Hálith trying to crawl from beneath the bed to Éowyn's rescue and quickly moved to block him from Gilmóod's view with her skirt. She stood squarely in front of the bed so that the child could not get out, for she knew if he was seen that it would mean his death.

The woman's movement gained Gilmóod's attention. "Get back downstairs, crone, or I will have you beaten to death."

Hálith scrambled out from under the bed as Margeth followed Gilmóod and Éowyn from the room and closed the door behind her. The boy sat on his heels, his mind a mass of swirling emotions…anger, fear, guilt, uncertainty. "What do I do now?" he asked in the silence.

TBC