Chapter 3
The Ginger Cat
Grimhelm lived alone. Something told me it had not always been so, for there were many rooms in his house, which seemed too much for one man. And there was a sadness about him, as though he had lost someone very dear to him.
It was Gram, the ginger cat, who caused our paths to cross, though I am loath to admit that anything good ever came from an encounter with a feline.
He was the same cat I had seen the day I entered the city. The one who sat pompously on the windowsill sunning himself.
He had had the audacity to steal my prey from me, and I swore revenge against him.
I soon found the fool, preening in the window, licking his precious hide. I would skin him and feed his carcass to the birds. Perhaps it was jealousy that caused me to act so brashly, for I could tell by his plumpness and shiny coat that he had a good home.
I ran and jumped onto the sill, pushing him through the open window and onto the floor. Considerably frightened, he ran through the house, and I followed, tipping over various items in my haste. But the chase came to an end when I found him in a corner, trapped.
'Ai! What is this?' exclaimed a man's voice behind me, and the cat used this distraction to flee.
I stared at the man, who did the same. But then his stern expression softened and he smiled.
'Gram got himself in trouble again, eh? Come here, miss.' and he knelt down, offering his hand to me. I stepped forward warily, accepting his touch. 'Fear not, I don't like him either, but promised Frea I'd look after the wretch.' he headed out of the room, towards the kitchen. 'Hungry? I can't let you eat Gram, but perhaps I can find something else for you.' he beckoned me to follow.
It was an opportunity I could not refuse.
He fed me well, and made no move to be rid of me. So I stayed, and took Gram's place by the fire. I saw his green eyes flash angrily as he watched me. I smirked, flashing my teeth and reminding him that I was not one to be toyed with.
Grimhelm laughed at us. I saw something of Aldo's nature in him, and knew I would be sad to depart and glad to stay. Even if it meant leaving Gram with all his limbs intact.
After a few days, it appeared that I would stay. And I realized, though sadly, that I was Môdig no longer. Grimhelm named me Earming, Wretched One, and although I didn't consider this a 'real' name, it is what he called me and I had no choice but to accept it.
'Well, Earming, it seems you shall be joining us for a while.' Gram purred one day. He sat back on his haunches and cleaned his paw, his eyes studying my face.
'Have you finally grown a spine, Gram?' I asked contemptuously.
'Peace, Earming. I am here to make friends.'
I laughed. 'Friends? Perhaps when you grew a spine you lost your mind.'
'Admit it, you can't touch me. It would displease the master and you'd be back on the street.' his eyes danced with mirth.
'Aye, Gram, but beware or I shall chance it.' I snapped in his ear threateningly and curled up by the empty grate, waiting for Grimhelm to return.
Grimhelm's expression was dour as he cleaned his hunting-knife. I watched him study the blade for a long moment before he sheathed it.
'Dark times ahead, Earming.' he murmured. 'Tomorrow, I ride.' he smiled down at me sadly. 'But don't fear, for Wena shall look after you.'
I rubbed my head against his leg and took my place at his right.
This time, he would not ride alone.
It was not the custom of the Rohirrim to take their dogs into battle. Yet I followed Grimhelm, though he tried half-heartedly to dissuade me.
The soldiers gathered at the gates, and some laughed to see me following at Grimhelm's heels. The Marshal, Eomund, whom I recognised as the buyer of Georn, only paused briefly to examine me ere he nodded his head slightly.
'If she causes trouble-'
'She won't, my Lord.' Grimhelm answered hurriedly. The Marshal continued on.
We were heading North and East, towards the Emyn Muil. I could smell the Orcs and see their tracks. We were hunting them.
After a few days travel, the scent grew stronger and the land rougher and strewn with boulders.
In my eagerness, I ended up ahead, when I noticed the soldiers had all but stoped and were eying me intently from a distance.
So that was their game. Warrior's first, friends later. They were going to see if the orcs would leap out and butcher me.
And then I saw one rise, large and terrible, from the ground. He had appeared very rock-like with his dirty grey skin. I howled, and the soldiers spurred their mounts forward, Eomund the fastest of all.
Although, mere moments earlier, they had been willing to forsake me, I felt obligated to protect them. So I was torn when the main party remained slaughtering the orcs among the boulders and Eomund continued onward, chasing a small band of Orcs towards the foothills of the Emyn Muil. I felt certain he was riding into danger.
I made up my mind. Eomund needed me more.
The rocky crags towered above me, eerie grey spikes jutting up into the sky. And I wondered how Eomund could not smell the danger, for there was the stench of many hidden orcs ahead. I barked crazily, yet he took no heed.
I cursed my helplessness and his foolishness.
As a last resort, I snapped at the heels of his mount and tried to force it back. Yet the beast was seasoned and had seen more fearsome things than me in battle. He kicked out slightly and resumed his course.
I called after the hapless animal.
'Orcs! Orcs in the foothills!'
But it was too late.
Eomund slaughtered the Orcs as they approached the next line of rocks, and there, lying in wait, was another, larger, band of our foes.
I turned my back on Eomund, knowing there was no hope. He had been steadfast to the point of foolishness, and he would pay for it with his life.
I remembered Grimhelm then, and where my loyalty truly lay. With a last backward glance, I saw Eomund, lifted high on the back of his steed, engulfed in a sea of foes, soon to drown.
The rest of the é ored passed me as I ran back towards them. I looked for Grimhelm's steed and his familiar face. Yet he was not there. I continued to run, back to where the battle began.
In a state of panic, I sprinted hither and thither across the field, passing bodies, none of which was Grimhelm's.
Then, I heard a low moan of pain, and there was Grimhelm, white-faced and propped up wearily against a rock. An arrow protruded from his right shoulder.
I licked his face and his eyes fluttered open.
'Earming,' he smiled. 'You came back.'
With his left hand, he reached up and scratched my ears. I knew his fate would not be unlike Eomund's. I never should have left him.
Dejectedly, I curled up on his lap, and he stroked my back.
'I fought well, Earming. I shall die knowing this.' he sighed, and began to recite a verse from an old war song.
'When the blood has dried,
And tears been wiped from weary eyes,
We shall girt our swords again,
And seek revenge until the last.'
'But who shall weep for me, Earming? The ones I love are gone. I've no friends. Only you, Earming.'
I licked his face again. Yes, I was his friend. I settled on his lap again, and listened as his breath grew shallower and the rise and fall of his chest less noticeable.
The sun was setting when the soldiers returned, more sombre then I had yet seen them. Suspended between two of them was a bloodied cloth, and I knew it held the body of Eomund.
I licked Grimhelm's face to wake him, yet his cheek was cold and lips were blue. The breath was gone.
I howled, as I had never howled before, and the horses baulked while the soldiers shivered. They came towards us, and I sat possessively by Grimhelm's side, willing him to open his eyes.
'It is Grimhelm's body she guards. That be his dog, Earming.' one man stated.
'Make haste in burying the dead.' another ordered.
I do not know how many died by the foothills, but three brave men fell beside Grimhelm.
They came to move his body, placing it in the ground. I whined, standing at the edge and looking down at Grimhelm's pale form.
'Good girl.' a soldier cooed to me gently. 'You stayed with him until the end.'
When he was covered with earth, I lost the will to move, and sat on his grave.
The soldier who spoke to me came and picked me up, sitting me on the pommel of his saddle.
The soldiers of Eomund's éored from the Eastfold took his body back there, while those from Edoras parted company with them at the Entwash.
So I found myself back in Edoras. Alone again.
I did not stay with that soldier, kind though he was. I was not yet ready for a new master. Instead, I went back to my old life of scavenging and starving.
A few weeks after my return, I decided to seek out Gram, in respect of Grimhelm, who had wished him to be kept well.
I spotted him one day with a child scratching his over-large belly, then she called him inside her house. So I did not approach him, finding no need to chance him thinking I was actually concerned about his well-being. His ego was already larger than his stomach. And that was saying something.
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A/N: I was going to post the last chapter as well, but I'm not quite happy with it. It should be up soon, I promise ;)
