Early September, 3019 TA
"Lisswyn…we can not stay here. The cold winds will soon blow."
Looking up at Hilde from the dried beans she was sorting, Lisswyn kept her voice calm. "Others have survived here."
"We do not have enough skins to manage winter in the caves."
She looked around the cave. Both of them were correct. Their people had wintered here in years past. But it took far more provisions than she and the small group of women currently residing there had. Lisswyn turned, met the eyes of the third woman sitting with them. While it was Hilde's nature to worry and fuss, Maegwen's calm pragmatism encouraged all of them. "We have no where else to go," Lisswyn finally said. "We will find a way to survive." There was no other choice.
The year had not been kind to the village. Her uncle's words to the Third Marshal had been well-intentioned, but misguided. No matter how they tried to manage it, there had simply not been enough homes left to provide shelter for everyone in the village, even with most of the men dead, or gone to war.
Then someone had remembered the system of caves not far from the village site. It was not extensive, but was at least a form of shelter, for the warm months at least. Winter was going to be a problem, one Lisswyn did not yet know how to solve. And for reasons she was unclear on, the other seven women, of various ages and situations, were looking to her to find the answer, both for them and the nine children also living with them.
Technically, she did not have to be here. Her uncle had been quite willing to give her and Brynwyn space in his home, provided Lisswyn married him. Again, she'd refused. And he had ordered them both out.
More than once, she'd looked at Brynwyn and wondered if she'd made the right choice.
"What will we do?" Hilde's voice broke into her thoughts again. Lisswyn looked around. They had some food, as they'd had access to their gardens, though it wouldn't be as plentiful as in previous years as the fire had destroyed seeds preserved from the summer before.
And there was some wood for fires, harvested from the ruined homes. But they needed warm clothing and furs. And in the absence of furs, would need more wood, wood it would be difficult to come by.
"Those who remain in the village will share what they can," Maegwen said quietly.
"They don't have much, either," Hilde retorted.
Lisswyn sighed. She needed a loom and spinning wheel. If she could acquire those, she could make clothing for them, not just to wear, but to trade. But hers had been lost in the fire, and no one else had one to spare.
"Lisswyn!" Her head jerked as she heard her sister's voice, a moment before the little girl ran into the room, in obvious distress. "You must come. It's him. He's injured!"
"Child, what are you daydreaming now? You should never enter a room shouting." Although she had a fondness for Brynwyn, Hilde generally had little patience for children. Lisswyn often thought it perhaps a good thing the elderly woman had never had any.
Brynwyn ignored her, and pulled on Lisswyn's arm. "You must come."
Lisswyn, knowing her sister would not be so agitated over nothing, allowed herself to be pulled along towards the entrance to the cave. "Who is injured, Brynwyn?"
"Him! He saved us! The Marshal of the Mark!"
The little girl was too upset, pulling too hard to say anymore, and Lisswyn gave up. It didn't matter who it was, or who Brynwyn believed it to be – and obviously it was not the rider who'd saved them so many months earlier. But if there were an injured man outside, he needed help.
She followed her sister down the rocky path, through some scrub trees and across the little creek. The fact that Brynwyn had been much further away from the caves than she was supposed to be was not escaping Lisswyn's notice, and she figured that only added to the sense of urgency. Brynwyn would not manufacture something that was only going to get her in trouble.
They went for nearly a mile, with Lisswyn becoming more and more angry that Brynwyn had been so far from the caves without her being aware of it, when she saw him. A solitary figure, dressed in Rohirrim armour, slumped on the ground, an arrow protuding from his left shoulder and his horse nearby. Her heart, already overburdened by the run, skipped a beat. An arrow? Even as they moved closer, she was looking around anxiously.
Who would have shot him? Were they in danger? It had been months since there was any orc activity in the area, but the Dunlendings did not use bows.
Then they came close enough to the man to recognize him, and all thoughts of being watched by someone with a bow fled her mind. It was, indeed, the man who'd saved them from the wildman. But he was no longer the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. He was its King.
She dropped next to him, felt for a pulse, wanted to collapse with relief when she found one. He was still alive then. But how came he here, alone? Where were his men?
He was pale, but the arrow sticking out of his left shoulder was preventing much loss of blood. That would change when it was removed, of course, but first they had to get him back to the caves. The question was how.
She looked around. Brynwyn was sitting on the other side of him, silent tears streaking down her face. They had to have help. Perhaps several of them together could get him on his horse, or devise a litter to carry him in. He was so large – how would they manage? She started to speak, to send Brynwyn back for some of the other women, when he groaned.
Startled, Lisswyn looked down.
He opened his eyes, closed them. With a grimace, he lifted his right hand, and rubbed his eyes, then looked at her. For a moment, he almost seemed to recognize her. Impossible, of course. "Where are we?"
"Near caves that my people have been dwelling in."
"Caves?"
She nodded. "Sire..my lord…where are your men?" If any were nearby, as they must be, they could help get him to safety.
He looked at her, and she saw a flash of grief. "Looking for me…those who still live."
That didn't sound good. She looked at Brynwyn, prepared again to send the little girl for help.
"Help me sit up."
Startled, she looked back at him. "You should not move, sire."
"Probably not. But we need to leave this area…reach the shelter of your caves."
Uneasy, she looked around, wondered again who had wounded him.
"Help me sit up." A command, more than a request. She looked at him, saw he was holding his hand out to her.
Wondering why such a simple touch should feel so intimate, she clasped his hand, pulled. Despite obvious pain, he managed to brace himself with his useless left arm and allowed her to pull him to a sitting position.
Lisswyn watched him anxiously, wondered how he could remain conscious with that lethal looking arrow sticking out of him. Wished she could yank it out, knew she dare not. Not yet.
He leaned on his right hand, took several harsh breaths before looking around. And she saw his relief when he spied his horse nearby.
For the first time, he seemed to notice Brynwyn sitting on the other side of him. As unsteady as he was, he reached out with his good arm and brushed the tears from her cheek.
"Do not weep for me, Brynwyn. I will be fine once the arrow is removed."
Startled, Lisswyn simply stared at him when she heard him use her sister's name. He remembered them. But how could he? So many villages...she nearly missed his next words.
"Will you go get my horse for me? He will let you lead him. His name is Firefoot." He was still speaking to Brynwyn, and the little girl, glowing at the idea of being asked to help, jumped up with a nod and moved toward the horse.
The King looked back at Lisswyn. "We must get out of the open. How far away are the caves?"
"About a mile."
He nodded, grimaced.
"Who shot you, sire?"
"Orcs. Orcs on wargs."
Lisswyn opened her mouth, closed it. The orcs in the area were nearly all gone, had scattered after the destruction of Isengard. And the wargs had all been killed. Hadn't they?
She didn't realize he was watching her. "Exactly." His voice was weary, and full of pain. "I do not know where they came from, or how many of them there are. Which is why we need to find shelter quickly."
Brynwyn walked up, carefully holding the reins of the big horse. The animal leaned over and snuffled at the man on the ground, and the King responded by reaching up with his good arm to touch the beast's nose. Then he looked back at Lisswyn. "You need to help me stand. Once I'm in the saddle, you can help your sister up in front of me, then come up behind me yourself."
Startled, she simply stared at him, then looked at the horse.
"He can easily carry us all, and we'll cover the distance that much faster."
Lisswyn slowly nodded. He certainly knew his horse better than she did; he also had a better sense of how much danger they were in than did she.
"Help me up."
She stood, held out her hand to him.
He took a deep breath, took her hand, and allowed her to pull him up…then she watched in horror as it seemed he would simply tip over, onto his face. She quickly moved to his uninjured side, put her arms around his waist, tried to steady him. Tried not to think about the muscles she could feel under the armour, or who it was she was holding so closely.
He leaned on her for a moment, what felt like his full weight. "Sorry about this," he murmured. Then he took another breath, and to her alarm it sounded shallow.
He made a clicking noise in his throat, and the horse came to him. The animal seemed huge to Lisswyn…how were they going to get him on it?
The King glanced at her, and she noticed how much paler he seemed now than when they'd found him. However it happened, it needed to happen soon. He must be on the brink of losing consciousness.
He gripped the saddle with his good hand, and before she could even guess what he intended, his foot was in the stirrup and he was hauling himself up, one handed.
But it had cost him dearly. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he wavered as if he would fall.
Lisswyn leapt forward, tried to stabilize him. "Sire!"
He looked at her, nodded to indicate that he was still conscious.
"Brynwyn."
Lisswyn still had doubts about getting all three of them on the horse, but wasn't prepared to argue with him. At least not about this. If Brynwyn, at least, was on the horse with him, and danger came, the two of them could possibly make it back to the caves. Though how much protection the caves would provide in an attack was dubious.
She motioned her sister over to her, then cupped her hands, indicating she should settle in front of the King. "Try not to jostle him."
Brynwyn, her eyes wide with fear, nodded, and stepped into Lisswyn's hands. Fortunately, she was small for her age, and light, and settled easily in front of the injured king. Lisswyn had only one moment of concern, when she feared the little girl would bump the arrow. And again wondered if she'd made the right decision in not already trying to remove it.
Then she hesitated. It was only a mile. She could walk along beside them, and they'd be there with no chance of her jostling him.
"You're not thinking of disobeying your king, are you?" The words, seemingly intended as humorous in tone, came out on a gasp, and she looked up at him in alarm. His face had changed from merely pale to grey. There was no more time.
Getting on the horse when she was afraid to touch him wasn't going to be easy. But then she noted he'd pulled his foot from the stirrup. That would help. She reached in front of him, grabbed the mane, and used that to pull herself up behind him, grateful her skirts were full enough that it was even possible. Riding sidesaddle would not have been.
"Hold on to my waist." Lisswyn wrapped one arm around his waist, as he'd commanded, and reached forward to grip Brynwyn with the other. She noted that he had the reins in his good hand, with that arm also around her sister.
He spoke softly to the horse, and they started to move. Lisswyn heard her sister giving him directions, which was just as well, as it would have been too hard for her to do so, with her face pressed into his back.
She could feel how unsteady he was, and marveled again that he'd managed to mount the horse, more so that he was still conscious.
Tightening her grip, she tried to think, to plan what she would need once they arrived back, what kind of medical care he was likely to require, but couldn't. Her mind, for the moment, seemed completely shut down, aware only of whose back she was tucked so closely to, of whose waist her arms were around.