KNOW THY PLACE – Part 3

"—wake all the others. We might need every hand."

"You really think they can come in?"

"I do not know, but if they do, we must be ready."

"What about the family? Their hut looked even more unstable than the barn. Shouldn't we get them over here? They will be safer."

"With all these animals in here? No. It's the sheep they're mainly after. There is more prey to be made in here. This will be their main point of attack. But you are right that we need to protect the family, just in case. A few of us should head over there."

The discussion was held lowly and occasionally drowned out by the rustling of moving animals, alarmed snorts, the occasional snoring of a sleeping warrior and the howling wind. For a while, Éomer had believed it to be part of the uneasy sleep he had drifted into after an eternity of listening to Éothain's laboured breaths and coughing close by, but as he opened his eyes to flickering twilight, he knew that it wasn't so. On the other side, the horses and sheep were moving restlessly around in their stands and stalls, and slowly, he woke to the feeling that something was wrong. Something else was howling outside beside the storm; something that sounded hungry… and big.

With a start, Éomer sat up as something scratched from outside against the wooden wall to his right. Then the sound of air being deeply drawn into lungs. Testing. Probing. Looking for prey.

"What is the matter?" He dared not to raise his voice.

"We've got company," his captain's dark voice answered him lowly. Slowly, Elfhelm turned around, the lantern in his hand eerily illuminating the scenery. Most of the men seemed awake now, and hands went in search for their swords.

"Wolves?" Collecting himself and grasping the hilt of his own blade, Éomer slowly came to his feet. He exchanged an alarmed look with Éothain, who had also just woken.

"Alas, I fear it is worse," Elfhelm grumbled, his gaze following the stealthy trail of movement from outside, slowly but surely moving toward the barn door. It was locked, yet the lock did not look very strong to Éomer. "They sound too big. I assume that it is a pack of wargs."

"Wargs!" The word passed in hushed and horrified whispers through the building. "What should we do now?" All men safe the two youngest members of their éored knew about the ferocity of the orc-wolves. All of a sudden, the sheltering wooden walls around them didn't seem so safe anymore.

"Let us see how many there are." Carefully climbing the long ladder to the upper floor, Elfhelm and his scout moved to opposite windows to risk a glance into the night while their men waited with baited breath.

"They are wargs." Arnhelm hissed, and then -- after a heavy moment of silence – added: "I see six. Around the barn and the hut."

"There are five more on this side." With a silent curse, Elfhelm turned away from the window, his mind reeling. Underneath him, the level of noise was rising steadily the more alerted the animals in the room became. It was only a question of time until the bleating and neighing would trigger the predators' attack. With fifteen riders, the outcome of the battle was unsure. And if they all climbed up to his position, they would be outside the wargs' reach, but would probably lose their horses and many of the family's sheep. And what of the family itself? He came to a decision.

"Arnhelm, get your bow and then take position at that window again. Éothain, you too. You are one of our best archers. See if you can hit some of them from up here. It may dampen their bloodlust or even discourage them from an attack entirely. The rest of you, ready your swords and take position next to the door. Arnhelm, this will be your command." He began to descend.

The scout furrowed his brow.

"What will you do, Captain?"

"I will see whether I can make it over to the family. I need two men to accompany me." He straightened and looked around as Éothain passed him on the way up the ladder, meeting only worried glances.

"Head over there? Through these beasts?" Arnhelm's expression was unreadable in the flickering twilight, yet his tone left no question open as to what he thought about his commander's plan. "How do you plan to achieve this?"

"With a feint. But first I need two men. Who will accompany me? It is dangerous, I can not lie about it. So I will not order you to. But that family needs our protection. If you need any further motivation, think of the children!"

"I will go," Éomer heard himself saying before he had consciously realised his decision, and his stomach turned to ice in response. Yes, he was afraid, but there was the memory of Freya's smile as she tended to him, and the gentleness she had treated her siblings with. He could not accept the thought of them becoming warg-prey, even if it meant putting his own life at risk. How many times had he promised Éowyn to protect her when they had heard the wolves circle their home in the hard winters of their childhood, and yet he had never been forced to follow through. Now it was time to prove himself, time to prove to himself that he was able to face his fear and not freeze in the face of danger, even if he expected Elfhelm to reject his offer in favour of a more experienced man. Yet to his surprise, no rejection came.

"Who else?"

"I". Tolgor, the healer of their group and a very apt and swift-footed swordfighter himself, stepped forth. Éomer felt a little more confident at the sight of the two valiant fighters he would enter the warg-infested night with. "What about the diversion you spoke of, captain? What will it look like?"

"The rest of you, who will not take position at the door, will herd the sheep into the far corner of the barn. See to it that they make as much noise as possible. Be loud yourself. Do everything in your power to draw the wargs back there. Once you have succeeded, we will dash over."

"What if the doors are locked?" Arnhelm voiced his doubts. "I would be surprised if they weren't. Once you're outside, even the smallest delay could end in disaster."

Elfhelm nodded.

"You are right. We need to let them know that we are coming. Can you see anything behind their windows? I am almost certain that they heard the wargs, too, and that they are waking. Can you see light?"

"I can hardly even see the hut in all this snow." The scout inhaled deeply, not liking his captain's idea, even if he couldn't deny the necessity. Following an instinct, he waved his lantern across the window, hoping that at least the people opposite them could see him and would know that something was about to happen. While he waited anxiously for a return signal, two large dark shapes moved into his field of vision, scratching at the hut's weathered walls. Probing. No doubt picking up the human scent behind the sheltering planks. He cursed. "There are two of them right at their doorstep now. At least two I can see. I do not know, captain…" He swallowed as the first warg threw its massive body against the wood. "They are about to force their way in."

"Then we've got no time to lose!" With a gesture, Elfhelm motioned Éomer and Tolgor to follow him, taking position right behind the door. "Fraccas, Héaland, you lock the door behind us as soon as we're out, and be fast! The rest of you, move! Make noise!"

His heart accelerating to a frantic rhythm, Éomer unsheathed his sword, his fingers slippery inside the glove as he waited tensely for Elfhelm to give the command. Behind them, the remaining men of their éored formed a chain to herd the bleating sheep into the far corner, shouting and stomping their feet.

"Arnhelm?"

"The two in front of the hut look up…." Before the scout could continue his report, they all heard the loud bellow from outside, and then the movement of heavy bodies through the snow. "It's working!"

"They are here now!" Éothain reported from his position, failing at trying to sound calm as the first heavy impacts from outside made the wooden walls reverberate. Horses and sheep shrieked in alarm. Éothain had his bow in hand and drew an arrow from the quiver. "Shall I shoot?"

"No. Not yet. It could drive them away again. Do not shoot before we have reached the hut. Just try to keep them occupied! Come!" Tearing the door open with one powerful move, Elfhelm stepped outside, and the first gust of wind almost threw him down. Wordlessly, he motioned for the two men following him to run as fast as they could.

Éomer had never been so afraid in his life, even if he wouldn't have admitted it. The storm was severe, blowing into their faces and freezing them and knocking the breath from their lungs. Together with the knee-high snow, it slowed their supposed dash to a fast walk, and in the whirling white, it was almost impossible to see their destination. His own ragged breath echoing in his ears, Éomer plodded ahead, inwardly praying that the conditions would also make it impossible for the wargs to pick up their scent. Praying that Freya and her family were awake and seeing their approach, ready to unlock the door.

They had made it halfway over when, with a pained grunt, Elfhelm suddenly collapsed in the snow. His heart missing a beat, Éomer turned around, expecting to already find dark shapes jumping at them. Yet he could not see further than for a few paces. He was still trying to penetrate the darkness around them with his keen glance as Tolgor bowed over their captain, trying to pull him up.

"What is it? What happened?"

"Stepped into a hole!" the warrior pressed with clenched jaw. "I think I broke my foot!"

"Lean on me! Éomer?"

Taking another heartbeat to pierce the diffuse white and grey of their surroundings, Éomer turned back – and froze as he saw two gleaming yellow eyes behind his comrades. Apparently, not all wargs had accumulated behind the barn. The big predator rounded the corner and lifted its ugly head, seeing and smelling them at once. Without thinking, Éomer stepped away from Elfhelm and Tolgor and waved his arms above his head.

"He! You! Here! Here!" Then, under his breath to his still kneeling captain: "Run!"

He had barely ended when, from the security of the barn, an arrow passed him by with a swishing sound and embedded itself in the orc-wolf's massive shoulder. Bellowing, it jumped at him nevertheless, its instincts urging it to follow the moving target instead of attacking the rigidly standing men close by.

For a moment, Éomer stood frozen with terror, the scene how the warg would rip him apart with those incredible jaws playing before his inner eye in all detail.

From one heartbeat to the next, he understood that flight was not an option. Footing was treacherous, and the snow too high. The warg would be upon him in an instant. So instead, he shifted his weight and lifted Gúthwine in defence.

"Éomer, no-"

More shouts from behind, where the men had opened the barn-door to yell and distract the predator. To him, they were in another world as those hell-blazing eyes jumped toward him with a furious roar. At the last possible moment, he dived to the side, spinning as he did so, and drew his blade over the passing predator's flank as the massive shoulder threw him to the ground. Roaring again, the great beast sat back on its haunches in an effort to turn, yet slipped on the icy ground.

"Éomer, run! Run!"

Somehow, he scrambled to his feet, pure reflex now. Sensing more movement behind him. It was not important. Important was solely the dark rectangle that had opened in the wooden wall to his right, and through which Tolgor was shoving a severely limping Elfhelm and then turned around to shout:

"Faster! He's almost upon you!"

He needn't have heard. The snow crunching under the warg's weight told him how close his pursuer was. The stench of its breath told him how close it was. He would not make it. Then, suddenly, another furious roar emitted, so close that he felt the warmth of the exhaled air. He didn't turn to see what had happened. The opening was directly in front of him now, and with a frantic effort, Éomer dived into it. The door slammed shut. Yet before the bolt could be secured, it flew open again under the impact of the beast, and a great head with maliciously blazing eyes appeared in the opening, biting at whatever was not fast enough to jump back. Its hideous jaws closed around Freya's tunic.

"Help me! Help me!" Freya's voice, high with terror as she was about to be drawn through the narrow opening.

Forcing himself to his feet, Éomer pushed her back forcefully and heard the ripping of cloth just before he threw himself against the door next to Elfhelm, Tolgor and their host. The beast's angry snarling and bellowing filled the narrow space, even drowning out the storm. Despite their combined efforts, the door was slowly being forced open, and now they heard another warg behind the wall.

"Push harder! Push!"

They were no match for the beast, four men struggling – and losing. Sweat beading his brow despite the cold, his muscles and sinew creaking under the effort, Éomer propped his feet against the ground, his back against the opening door – when he saw her.

"Freya, no!"

Although the warg's first attack had almost cost her life, she thought not of hiding, or moving out of harm's way, not even to soothe her crying siblings further down the corridor. No, she fought for them, suddenly returning from where he had pushed her with a hayfork in her hands. With all the force of her lean body, she thrust it into the opening, and an agonized roar answered her. The great head disappeared, tearing the fork from her hands.

"Push!"

For a moment, the pressure slackened, and they reacted as one. The door slammed shut, and Freya slammed the bolt shut before it could be forced open again. Yet it was not over. Again and again, the beasts outside threw themselves against the door in white hot rage, and the wooden planks groaned under the impact. With their backs against the door in support, the men stared at each other.

"This is a strong door," Féonwar, Freya's father managed to utter between two impacts. "We were attacked by wargs before, many times. They cannot break this door." Yet his eyes belied his doubts.

"Freya?" Trembling, their little faces glistening with tears of terror, the four children were standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the youngest ones clutching their toys to their chest. "Freya, we are afraid."

"They will not get in here, Willa." Another impact drowned out her words, seemingly in protest to her remark, then it went suddenly very quiet. Her eyes wide and ears strained, she stood rigid, staring at Éomer. All held their breath. Had the wargs lost interest in them? After another long moment of silence, she tiptoed over to where her siblings were standing, still shaking. Crouching, she extended her arms to encompass them all in a soothing embrace. "Don't be afraid. These men will protect us. They are warriors. They are not afraid of some wild beasts." They shook like leaves in the storm in her arms, crying silent tears of fear, while they all heard the movement of heavy bodies moving around the hut. Leaving the door they knew now to be well guarded and searching for another way in.

Freya's eyes widened as she stared at her father, the words escaping her lips in an almost inaudible whisper of fright.

"They'll try the other side again!" Féonwar exhaled. "They had almost forced their way through that door before you came. You distracted them just in time. But I fear it won't hold much longer…"

"Éomer, you stay here. Tolgor, come with me!" Hardly able to walk, Elfhelm followed their host to the front door while he already hear the predators' heavy breathing from outside. The door looked already partly splintered. "We must barricade it with something!" He had barely ended when the door shook in its frame, and the huge head of the orc-wolf appeared in the opening, wood exploding around its massive neck as it bared its cruel teeth at them. The two Rohirrim reacted simultaneously by cutting down their swords in a hacking motion and almost decapitating the beast. Spilling redness onto the wooden floor, the warg collapsed, and its eyes turned glassy.

"Don't look. Don't look." She could not cover her siblings' eyes, yet the soothing stream of Freya's words never ceased as the three little ones clamped their fingers into the folds of her tunic, sobbing. Behind them, Halad stood, lost, because he did not fit into his sister's embrace. A brief glance through the window confirmed to Éomer that finally, his comrades had succeeded in luring the remaining wargs back to the barn, where Arnhelm and Éothain were beginning to pick out their aims. At last, he felt secure enough to sheathe his sword and extend his arms to the trembling boy. He knew how the lad was feeling. Not too long ago, he had been in the same position.

"Halad? Come here." A wondrous look found him as Freya turned her head in astonishment, and then the boy was there, hesitant at first, but when his tear-streamed, pale face lifted to find nothing but affirmation in the warrior's gaze, he finally accepted the comforting embrace and closed his eyes. "It is good, Halad," Éomer said with a calmness he wasn't feeling himself. Yet telling it to the lad also helped soothing himself as he followed the battle outside through the window. "We will get through this. They will not get in here. I promise."

It was strange. All of a sudden he remembered the winter, when he had been forced to listen terrified to the sound of a host of orcs in their ambush of Aldburg, They had known that the marshal and his éored were not present, and had seized the opportunity to plunder the settlement and set huts on fire without having to fear resistance worthy of mention. Only men of too many or not enough summers had fought against them and eventually succeeded in making them turn and flee with their loot. Éomer had been ten summers old then, and much like Halad a lad who had tried to fight his fear and act courageous like the adults. And yet he had found himself in his mother's embrace,too, clinging to her and trembling while he had heard the fell creatures in front of their hut. Listening to her endless litany of how they were safe, that the orcs would not get in. His mother had promised it to them. And the orcs had passed. Éomer had never known what had made them turn away, but to a boy of ten years, the promises of an adult meant the world. He suddenly felt the weight of his words heavily on his shoulders as not only the boy was looking up at him now, but the little ones in Freya's arms, too. Thankfully, Elfhelm chose that moment to speak out.

"The carcass blocks the door. I do not think they can force their way in here now." He grimaced and groaned as he leant against the wall, favouring his right foot.

"I think they are all by the barn again," Éomer replied lowly, still staring out. He could not see much in the still driving snow, but it was also quiet in the hut now, and however much he strained his ears, he did no longer hear the sound of heavy steps or breathing through the walls.

"Then let me have a look at your foot, captain," Tolgor said in the same low tone, as he slowly sheathed his sword. "Perhaps I can splint it."

Elfhelm shook his head.

"Splint it, first, then look at it later when the danger is over. We need to be ready in case they return. We will hold watch for the rest of the night. Éomer, yours will be the first!"

"Aye, captain." Éomer felt the boy tensing in his arms in reaction to Elfhelm's words. "This is only a precaution, Halad. They will not come back. We taught them to stay away." Grimly, he stared at the dead warg whose ugly head and thick neck still invaded their refuge. The bleeding had stopped, but it was still a sight he would have hoped to have spared the children. Before he turned back to the window, he observed as Elfhelm lowered himself to the ground with a suppressed grunt, his back propped against the wall as Tolgor went to work.

It would be a long night.