In An Age Before – Part 203
Chapter One Hundred thirty-two
Norðr-vestandóttir Bý – The Third Age of the Sun
Following the slaughter at the hamlet of Vera, (whose name itself rang in his ears as a cruel jest), Captain Hrólfr bid his company stay the night, and in the morn his riders gathered and laid to rest the bodies of their people. It had been one of the grimmest undertakings he had e'er endured. They had counted two hundred forty-one men, women, and children slain in the small settlement, roughly half at the hands of their killers and the rest taken by smoke and fire. For most they learnt no names, but they gave the dead what honor they could, and then they rode for home consumed with sorrow and anger.
He deemed that the warning of the Eagle had only come in time to exact vengeance upon the Yrch, and he would have greatly preferred to save his people. Alas, he had not known whither the hamlet lay and they had lost valuable time seeking for it. It seemed that battle and death had followed his folk from the east, and as he rode home, he felt their flight to this new land had gifted them little peace.
When the captain arrived back at Sunnan Hǫrgr, he saw his riders settled and then spent the night haunted by troubled dreams, upsetting his wife and year-old son. On the morrow he took his personal guard and rode north to proffer a report to his king.
Captain Hrólfr and his dozen soldiers spent three days in the saddle to reach Nýrheim, New Home, which lay six leagues south of the Dwarf Road they had stumbled upon, and north of which their people had set no foot as yet. There King Marhwini ruled the great fortress of their people.
That great fortress, such as 'twas in those days, encompassed 'nigh twelve hundred souls protected by a palisade of tree trunks, with wooden watchtowers that guarded gates facing east and west. A trail led west two miles from the north-south track to the east gate. The city was out of sight from that trail by virtue of a rise and dip in the land 'til one was already 'nigh upon it and within bowshot of the watchtowers. T'would remain the principal city of the Northmen's realm for the next century, 'til the reign of King Frumgar, by which time it had been greatly expanded, gaining a berm and fosse 'round a much extended palisade with a causeway to cross it, and o'er three thousand souls.
In those early days following its establishment, there was no great hall elevated on posts above a platform of pounded earth. Rather, there stood a sturdy log house with a thatched roof and a stone chimney rising on one wall. 'Twas set upon the natural hillock at the center of the settlement. There, guards stood watch to either side of the door, and these saluted Captain Hrólfr as he and his riders hitched their mounts to the rail out front and dismounted.
The captain returned their salutes, dismissed his Men to find a meal and take some rest, and then entered his lord's hall. Now the lord's hall, such as 'twas in those days, encompassed a table before the hearth with six chairs set 'round it, and benches along the opposite wall for when the lord held councils with his advisors. In the far corner stood a bed frame with a straw-filled mattress and woolen blankets, and at its foot, a trunk of clothing. On a stand beside the hearth stood the king's armor, with his sword hung from pegs driven into the log wall behind.
The king was seated at the head of his table, with a map in progress laid out before him and a mug of ale at his hand. Attending him were two riders tasked with measuring the lands, thereby to fill in the large blank areas on the parchment. They were discussing a trip taken to the east of the road, for the king craved to know how far off stood the verge of the forest. Captain Hrólfr took all this in with a glance and then stood by at a respectful distance awaiting his lord's acknowledgement.
"Six leagues, thou say," Marhwini said to Alrekr, one of the two riders making their report.
"Aye, my lord, give or take perhaps thirty fathoms for the variance in my horse's stride," he replied.
"Due east," added Mǫrðr, the second rider. Alrekr nodded in agreement.
"Very well," King Marhwini said, dipping his quill in a pot of ink and making a short segment of line in the appropriate place on his map. "I thank ye both for your care in this, boring as 'tis."
The two Men dipped their heads to their king, who blotted the excess ink from his quill and set it aside. He looked up to see the captain as they took their leave and a smile shaped his lips.
"Come, my friend," he said, beckoning the captain forward, "what tidings have left thee so grim of face?"
Captain Hrólfr came to the table and bowed to his king, then sighed and shook his head.
"Dark tidings of fell deeds sure," he said. At his lord's prompting nod, he continued. "Five days past, a visitation most strange was received in Sunnan Hǫrgr. With the dawn there came a great Eagle who spoke a warning that Orcs had crossed Anduin in the night and threatened a small settlement twenty miles south."
"A great Eagle spoke…?" Marhwini asked in surprise.
"Aye, my lord. He named himself Landroval, vassal of Gwaihir the Windlord," the captain said. "A great upset he caused amongst the people by his appearance, and more so by his words. I could but thank him for his tidings and then gather a hundred to ride south in haste. Alas, none knew whither we were bound, for none knew that settlement." He stopped and shook his head again, and the king marked his frustration, sadness, and then anger.
"Twenty miles we rode seeking with care for a side trail, and only just ere dusk did we find it. We came but a mile west ere seeing fire and smoke, and soon a hamlet assailed, its people fleeing Orcs whilst their homes burned."
Hrólfr saw his king's lips purse and his jaw clench as he tightened his fists.
"My lord, we slew the Orcs, but not ere all in the settlement were lost to fire and sword. Men, women, and children, none were spared. We laid two hundred and forty-one of our people to rest the day after. Had we but come sooner…had we known where they dwelt…" He hung his head in sorrow and cast a longing glance to the partially finished map.
"Twelve score and one of our people fallen because we knew not their abode!" The king thundered as he slammed his fist down on the table, "and if not for the words of this Eagle, they would have died unmarked and unavenged!"
"I am sorry, my lord, more than words can tell. 'Tis my shame and t'will follow me to my grave. I have failed as Marshal of the South."
"'Tis I who have failed, Hrólfr; failed to know and protect my people. 'Tis I who have failed to order my realm," the king said. "The shame is not thine, old friend. I doubt not thy valor. From the time we were left to guard our lands when our fathers fell beside the King of Gondor, and then failed to defend them, thou hast been by my side, e'er loyal. I hold thee in honor still."
"My lord, these lands are vast and most still unknown. We came here but fifteen years past, and I wager 'twas many generations ere our old homelands were well known to our fathers.
The settlement was undefended with neither palisade, nor ditch. They were simple folk who lived in homes open to attack. They had no riders to defend them."
"And yet they were our people, and now all are slain," Marhwini said, "twelve score and one."
For a while the two Men lapsed into silence, staring down at the unfinished map. Save for uncertain lines demarking the river and the forest and the placements of their two settlements, most was 'naught but bare parchment.
Fifteen years and I have only just begun to know my lands, Marhwini thought, a fatal mistake.
"My lord, amidst all else that came to pass, I had forgotten. One of our people survived," Captain Hrólfr said. The king's head jerked up at his words and he hearkened.
"Indeed? Pray tell me that some good has followed in the wake of so much death."
"'Twas perhaps the only good to come of that day," the captain said. "As the battle neared its end, one rode in from the south, a lone woman who led a herd. I deem she was drawn by the flames and sought to discover the state of kith and kin, for she went from house to house finding only ruin and the dead."
"Then she was not in the hamlet during the attack. Fate was kind to her in that," Marhwini said. "Yet coming home to the destruction of all she knew…t'would be most bitter, especially if 'twas endured for a second time."
"By the look of her I doubt not that she was one of our people. To guess from her age, I deem she fled a lost home in the east whilst still a child. I thought it strange that after taking the measure of the slaughter she stayed not, but returned with her herd to the south whence she had come. My lord, I believe that she abode not in the hamlet."
"Say thou spoke with her and beseeched her to remove her family north to live 'neath the protection of the crown," the king said.
"My lord, no words did we exchanged. She acknowledged us with a nod at her coming and another at her leave taking, but said 'naught. At the time, I thought her silenced by sorrow, and with my Men, other concerns hung more pressing. Ere the battleground was secured, she had gone."
"So yet another of our people dwells beyond our aid, and where a whole village was razed, one alone or a family shall surely fall," said the king. "Tell me, dost thou recall 'aught else of her?"
The captain thought a moment, recalling that time amidst the chaos. The more he thought on it, the stranger his memories became. Absorbed in the concerns of battle, he had seen what he had expected to see, and now he deemed that he had made many assumptions.
"My lord, we heard what we thought to be a company charging from beyond a rise that lay 'cross a stream to the south, and so we readied ourselves for battle, not knowing if 'twas friend or foe. She came o'er that rise at a full gallop, one alone on the lead stallion, bareback, unarmed, at the head of a mixed herd of twenty steeds, none with reins or saddle. Just o'er the crest, they rode down a few Yrch who had sought to flee, and they ne'er stopped 'til they crossed the stream before us. There eight horses balked, unwilling to abide the fires, and she dismissed them. They returned south whence they had come, and then she led the rest through the hamlet, taking stock of the massacre.
At several homes she briefly stopped, but then went on to the next. Perhaps they had been known to her. She took her leave after the half part of an hour, and there followed another thing most eldritch that I clearly recall only now.
She rode out of the hamlet, her dozen horses following, and in their wake came e'ery living cow, sheep, and goat. Those not already fled from broken byres and folds, she had freed. All of them walked off to the south in a slow parade. The next morn, the chickens took wing, also into the south. My lord, I know not what to think. 'Twas some sorcery, perhaps."
Now 'twas the king who sat silent a while, digesting what his captain had declared to him. He was persuaded that Hrólfr had witnessed a display of supernatural power, but what did it mean? A woman of their people who commanded creatures might be a great threat or a great boon, for what else could she command besides? Amongst the Northmen there had long been lore and tradition regarding sorcery. Healers, seers, prophetesses, and soothsayers were all regarded as partaking of arcane knowledge, but so were necromancers, conjurors of daemons, perpetrators of curses or spiritual possessions, and priests of the hated Fire Worshippers.
"How felt thee in her presence?" Marhwini asked his old friend.
"Surprised and curious for the most part, but as I said, the concerns of battle and the welfare of my Men were foremost in mind whilst she tarried," he said. After reflecting a moment he added, "I felt sorry for her, for she had obviously lost some who had been close to her. 'Twas only as she left that I felt awe at the behavior of the animals."
"So thou felt not fear, threat, or subjugation 'neath the will of another?"
"Nay, none of that."
"I suppose she may be a völva or alsnotr-fljóð¹, but she has done no hurt undeserved to Man or beast so far as we know. Indeed she aided thee in slaying our enemies." The king chuckled at that, eliciting a smile from the captain. ¹(völva or alsnotr-fljóð, witch or wise woman Old Norse)
"Aye, my lord, 'tis as thou say. Should I seek for her after I return to Sunnan Hǫrgr?"
Marhwini gave thought to the question, for there were points both good and bad to that course. The woman might offer great benefits to his people, and as king 'twas his duty to provide safety to those of his people who acknowledged him. Yet one commanding arcane powers might also bring upset and disquiet, for people were e'er afraid of 'aught that they understood not.
Thus far they had no reason to suspect malign intent of the woman, yet they knew well 'nigh 'naught about her. Hrólfr had not recognized her, nor had any of his riders claimed to. She had simply looked like one of them and her appearance had aroused no suspicions.
He tried to imagine a company of riders searching the countryside for her, knowing only that she had left the hamlet heading south. 'Twas possible that she dwelt but a short ride away, or an Eagle might have also warned her of the coming attack and she could have ridden as far as had Hrólfr. There was no way to tell save by searching.
The lands beyond the Southern Sanctuary were a blank, even though many had fled through them fifteen years aforetime. In those days, the Northmen had been refugees, more eager to forget than recall the forest and the lands that lay 'nigh to it. Years later, the memories of those lands were fading from recall.
Now, not even a week had passed since a settlement had been obliterated. More Yrch could come down from the mountains and cross the river at any time. Were he to send Men to seek for this woman, they too would be at risk. Hrólfr would be forced to send half a hundred just to provide sufficient strength to keep his riders safe. And what then, if perchance they did indeed stumble upon the woman? Fifty riders girded for battle could seem a great threat, creating just the opposite impression from what he desired. T'would be hard to argue that she abandon her home for the safety of Sunnan Hǫrgr when that unwelcome suggestion would be made at swordpoint. She would rightly feel threatened whilst surrounded by strangers bearing spears. The king groaned and shook his head.
"My friend, I cannot order a search for this lone woman," Marhwini said. "T'would endanger many for the sake of one who might not even agree to join thy settlement, and t'would draw off forces required for the security of Sunnan Hǫrgr. We know not whither in all those lands to seek for her, and approaching her in strength could but scare her off.
Besides, I have another concern that I deem more pressing, and that shall bear fruit in days hence. Had we known the place of that settlement, thou might have arrived in time to save them. 'Tis my judgment that the time is better spent surveying our lands. This map I shall have copied fair for thee, and to it I bid thee add such knowledge as thy Men can obtain, north, south, east, and west of our Southern Sanctuary. I greatly desire to know the lay of our lands, the more so now than afore."
Captain Hrólfr bowed to his king. All that he had commanded was prudent, and so he would preside o'er the mapping of the south of their realm. And perhaps whilst afield estimating the lay of those lands, some of his Men might chance upon the dwelling of the good witch.
Following the slaughter at the hamlet of Vera, (whose name itself rang in her ears as a cruel jest), Einn rode away from the burnt remains of the settlement. There she left behind a name to accompany the many cadavers. She sat in a daze as Hestr-einn walked south, and all she could think of was the massacre of her friends. Had she not found the settler's abandoned farm and instead made her home amongst the other Northmen, she too would have been slain. There seemed no strength in numbers and she had survived by being alone.
The once again nameless woman was more than shocked when she realized that the livestock of Vera trailed behind her horses. She had taken it for granted that the armed strangers would claim possession of them as a spoil of battle. Yet of their own accord, the cows, sheep, and goats had followed her herd and none had stayed them. Those goodly creatures had continued in their wake the whole way back to her farm. She was scarcely less surprised that none of the Men had followed as well, but then, they had seemed quite occupied with the aftermath of the battle. She deemed that they cared more for the dead than the living.
Upon returning home, still stunned by the mayhem she had seen, the blonde woman occupied herself with settling the newcome animals. It seemed they took comfort from the company of the cows and sheep already residing on her farm. Her outbuildings would have to expanded, but she left all thought of that for the morrow. By then she was emotionally exhausted, and without bothering to make supper, settled on her mattress of straw and fell into a deep sleep.
On the following morn, whilst Captain Hrólfr's company began to collect the dead, the woman awoke to find her yard populated by the chickens from the hamlet of Vera. They had arrived shortly after first light and were now stalking the yard seeking shoots, seeds, bugs, and worms. She watched them a while, then went to break her fast with cooked cereal and an apple. It seemed that the next days would be occupied with enlarging the shelters for her new friends.
After constructing a coop on waist-high posts for the chickens, with a door sized so that only they could enter, she built a long, low shed for the goats. Much to her surprise, she found the goats lounging 'neath the chicken coop, but also leaping up onto the roof of their shed, the better to view their surroundings. 'Twas unexpected, but the woman saw no ill in it. At times, the goats and sheep would also visit with the horses in their stable, whilst the chickens ranged through all the buildings, but invariably returned to the security and comfort of their coop at night as their nesting instinct dictated.
Now whilst she was happy to see the chickens and the goats thriving after surviving the massacre of their owners, she was at a loss for what to do with them. The goats gave some milk at times, and 'twas richer and more flavorful than the milk of cows, but she had little need of it, for she now had more cows and more milk than she could drink. She was at no shortage of pasturage, and so one benefit of goats was of no consideration to her. The same was true of the sheep. They too gave milk she didn't need, but at least she had as much wool as she could use for her clothing, and o'er time she became adept at carding, spinning, knitting, and weaving. But for the chickens she had no need. The woman ate no meat, nor did she eat eggs. So ere the end of autumn there were many new chicks, and they grew rapidly into young chickens. The coops had to be enlarged before winter. She feared that ere a year was done, she would be o'errun.
The goats created other problems though. The billies became aggressive in rut, not to mention their stink, which came from their musk glands and their habit of peeing on their chests, forelegs, and faces. They also drenched their faces in the urine streams of the nanny goats during their estrus. The breeding habits of the animals made the whole farm reek. Just as bad was their penchant for eating the flowers her bees depended on. In exasperation, the woman finally moved their shed to the far side of the hillock a furlong from her cabin. The goats walked back and spent most of their time in her yard. Finally, just ere winter, she led the whole herd 'cross the wide stream and again rebuilt their shed on the far side of a hill half a mile south and well out of sight of her farm. She bid them a good life and hoped they would stay away.
The winter of 1871 passed and the new year followed as 'twas wont to do. When the weather grew warm again with spring, riders from Sunnan Hǫrgr resumed their task of mapping the southern lands of King Marhwini's realm. Usually they went about the countryside in threes, one tasked with the actual entries of mileage and topography, the other pair pooling their estimates of riding time and distance covered to achieve the most accurate additions to their maps. They made notes of landmarks, and with estimates gleaned from the positions of distant mountain peaks, the flights of birds, Anor's position, and angles of view marked on parchment by looking at two places at the same time, they produced arcana to which the king's mages could apply geometry, geomancy, and the use of esoteric instruments of brass to curate the data.
During the previous autumn and the spring of 1872, Captain Hrólfr's Men covered the two leagues encircling their city and more due east and west. They could now fill in the shapes of the land, the placements of streams, the undulations of Anduin's banks, and the distance to the forest with acceptable certainty. Both the captain and king were glad for their increasing knowledge, and yet both acknowledged that they had far to go ere familiarity was attained. Their maps still showed more blank space than what was known. Still they could but persevere, and as the years passed, they filled in e'er more of the unknown. Eventually the distances became greater than the rations horsemen could carry with comfort whilst also bringing their maps and quills and ink and parchments for notes, and so they took to carrying their supplies in one-horse carts.
Now by their travels, the Men of Sunnan Hǫrgr came to know the places of some small settlements and the abodes of families of farmers and herders. These they endeavored to convince to relocate to more protected lands 'nigh the Southern Sanctuary. Some hearkened and others not. Some indeed removed to become townsfolk, but others had grown fond of their farms, for by then they had expended much labor to make them productive, and so they refused. None had heard aforetime of Vera, (nor of any other isolated neighbors), and they knew 'naught of the massacre. They had lived in peace since coming to the Vale of Anduin and they were slow to alarm. Captain Hrólfr's Men accepted their decisions, marked their positions on their maps, and continued on south.
Broad were the lands north and south of Sunnan Hǫrgr, sixty to seventy miles east from the verges of the forest, west to the banks of Anduin. 'Twas much land to survey and progress was the labor of years when combined with all else required for the safeguarding of a realm. Not 'til 1879 did riders come the twenty miles south to what had been the settlement of Vera.
By then, eight years had passed since the massacre. Remnants of burnt homes were o'ergrown with weeds and brambles. Fallen barns and sheds and the remains of fenced paddocks marked the land 'round the copse of trees. The stream still ran, grass still grew in the pastures, and the bridge to the rolling land south of the hamlet still stood. The Men recalled that night of battle, of flames and smoke rising into the dark sky, the bodies crumpled before their homes, and the shrieks of the Yrch. Wildflowers covered the mounds of the fallen now, still to be easily seen in the field 'nigh the copse. 'Naught grew on the blackened ground where the Yrch had been burnt. They found themselves consumed in those memories a while, standing silent and still whilst the breeze made waves run through the grass.
Despite the dark deeds done there aforetime, the riders understood the value of the location. There was clean, running water, plentiful grass for grazing, and woods 'nigh to supply fuel for cook fires and timbers for building. The site lay close enough to the north-south track to allow easy access for patrols, yet because of the forms of the land, was invisible from it. 'Twas an easy day's ride from Sunnan Hǫrgr, and so a good site for an outpost. They marked the place carefully on their map and then withdrew, for they had much land to measure east and west ere they proceeded 'cross the stream into the lands further south.
In the spring of 1880, the Northmen finally crossed the small bridge and began mapping the lands south of the ruins of Vera. The previous summer they had recommended to their captain that if an outpost was e'er required south of Sunnan Hǫrgr, the burnt hamlet was the most favorable location they had yet seen. Captain Hrólfr recalled the hamlet only from the night of its destruction and the day of burials after, but if his king commanded it of him, he would people a garrison there on the recommendation of his surveying team. In order to be prepared for that possibility, he dispatched two teams south, one to continue measuring the land for the map, and a second to more closely take the measure of the hamlet for its application as a defensive position.
Now the riders charged with measuring the land spent a fortnight working their way south from Vera. There they came upon a fence of split rails running o'er a hill and down to a stream, (or small river), that ran wider and deeper than the one south of the burnt hamlet. A furlong west along the hither bank, they marked a copse of trees and a herd of horses grazing 'nigh a sprawling berry bramble. The horses took one look at them and trotted off to the west 'round a small hillock. Intrigued, the Men followed, finding an open space 'twixt fence posts that allowed passage into the lands beyond. Strange it seemed to them, that the fence divided the land, but would not constrain Men or beasts from exit or entry. The herd they had seen could have come or gone as they pleased.
As they passed the copse they marked runners and shoots heavy with summer berries, a wealth of fresh fruit such as they had not seen aforetime. They walked their mounts forward in the wake of the wild herd, and so came 'round the hillock and beheld the fields of grains, the tall apple trees, the plots of vegetables and wildflowers, and the beehives raised on stilts 'neath their sheltering canopies. The horses they followed had joined with more of their kind and now stood before a large cabin with outbuildings behind, 'round which congregated several dozen cows and sheep, and a flock of chickens. Beside the cabin stood a stack of split firewood, many cords-worth that reached up almost to the eaves of the thatched roof.
No farmer amongst their people was so successful in the cultivation of such varied crops, nor any herder so successful in the breeding of steeds and other livestock. The riders stared at the farm in wonder, for they reckoned the families who worked that land were as rich as lords of their people. These farmers had food in abundance and variety, honey and beeswax, a couple dozen horses, some of riding age and others younger. The sheep would provide wool to clothe a dozen people. The chickens would provide eggs, feathers, and meat for just as many. Milk, butter, cheese, meat, and hides would come of the cows, and there were probably fish to be caught in the small river a short walk away. For a long while they stayed, taking the measure of it all in amazement. 'Twas some time ere they marked that they heard no voices and saw no people.
As they sat their horses, silently watching the animals and surveying the farm, a mare appeared from a field, walking towards the cabin. A large sheaf of lucerne was strapped to a travois that was hitched to her flanks. Soon a woman was revealed, striding along beside her. The horse chuffed and bobbed her head and the woman looked towards the cabin where the other horses waited. Her eyes scanned the yard and came to rest on the three Men, seated on their mounts staring back at her. She waved to them and then continued down to the byre where she unloaded the sheaf and spread it in a feed trough for the cows.
Once the feed was offloaded, the woman unhitched the travois, standing it up against a wall of the byre whilst the mare trotted down to join the rest of her herd. The woman came towards the three riders unarmed and unafraid. The horses watched her, as did the cows and the sheep. 'Twas uncanny.
"Good day to ye," she said when she stood before them. "Whence came ye? I have seen no others in these lands for many years."
Now that she had drawn 'nigh, the Men recognized her. After nine years, she appeared unchanged to their eyes from the night she had charged down to the burning hamlet. Finally, the rider who was charged with writing notes on the map found his voice.
"Hail and well met, m'lady. I am Broddr son of Skáld¹" he said. "We come from Sunnan Hǫrgr, twenty-two miles north. Our lord, Captain Hrólfr, dispatched us to accomplish an errand for our king, Marhwini son of Marhari. He hath commanded that the lands hereabouts be mapped that he may know the count and dwelling places of our people." ¹(Broddr son of Skáld, Spear point son of Poet Old Norse)
To his explanation the woman seemed to give thought for a while. She remained silent and a look of concentration shaped her features.
"I have met none of our kindred living in these lands save for those who once called the settlement of Vera home. That place was destroyed nine years past and all its people slain," she finally said. "Only on that night did I see any others, many horsemen who came to fight the attackers. They were the last 'til thy arrival."
"We were amongst those who came then, hoping to save the folk of Vera. Alas, we were too late," he said, shaking his head in sorrow. "We had heard tell of a coming attack, but knew not whither Vera lay. In seeking for it, we were too slow, hence our king's desire to know these lands and their people."
She nodded to him, understanding his errand now and the reasons for it.
"So how many abide hither?" One of the other two riders asked.
"None save I."
"And thou hast dwelt hither, alone these past nine years?"
"I have dwelt hither, alone for the past twenty-four years," she said, and the look of shock on the Northmen's faces gave her pause. "It hath taken me that long to order this place, for only the horses have aided me. Most recently I have fenced the lands they require."
"M'lady, a score and four thou hast abided hither alone? Thou seem no older than that," Broddr said in shock. "Wast thou born on this farm?"
Yet even as he asked it, he realized it could not be true. She had appeared to be the same age when he had seen her ride into Vera nine years aforetime, and she had certainly not been of mid-teen years then. There was but one explanation he could think of.
"The blood of the Dúnedain must flow in thy veins, as much as our own to which thy looks cleave," he said, and bowed his head to her. "That folk are blessed with long life, thrice the count of years of our people."
"Art thou truly a daughter of Gondor as well as the north?" The third rider asked, speaking for the first time.
Again the woman fell silent a while, her brow furrowed in concentration. She recalled the aging of her friends, Thyra, Leif, and Smiðr o'er the fifteen years that she had known them. Far less aware had she been of any changes in her own appearance.
"Alas, I know not," she said at last. "My first memories are of waking in a strange hall in 1856. The kindly lord there sent four of his servants to lead me from the forest, two days walk west to these lands. I met six horses and a family of dark-haired farmers that first night, and then walked north 'til I came upon the hamlet of Vera. Having found no kin there, nor any who knew me, I walked south 'til I found this place, a ruined farm of settlers akin to those I had met on my first night. I reckoned it abandoned a score years or more by then.
Of 'aught that may have been aforetime, I remember 'naught. When I woke in Lord Khamûl's hall, I knew not my name, nor my people, and I have recalled neither since."
The Men fell silent, trying to digest her tale. Her plight was hard to imagine, remembering 'naught, waking nameless in strange surroundings. She had been lucky to find so many helpful and kindly people whilst in so vulnerable a state.
They were called from their thoughts when she asked, "Whence came these Dúnedain, and whither lie their lands?"
Those questions were at first a shock. The Númenóreans had been allies now for 'nigh seven centuries and the Northmen had long known their tale, for their kings were kin by blood. Many of the Northmen had fought beside them, and many of their people had long dwelt in Gondor. Yet just as quickly, the riders understood that for one who knew not her own life story, the lore of Gondor was but another unknown.
"The Dúnedain came from o'er the sea, great captains of ships, yet from the last Age they have dwelt in mighty cities of stone," Broddr said. "Gondor is their southern realm. 'Tis vast upon the coast beyond the White Mountains, one hundred eighty leagues from where we stand. Lore tells of a sister realm west of the Hithaeglir, but none of our people have come to Arnor, of old, the lands of their high king.
They are tall Men, dark-haired, pale of skin and eye, fell in battle and fast in friendship. Their kings live o'er two centuries, and 'tis said that their span was once longer still. And their royal house is akin to our own, for long ago a king of Gondor wed a princess of Rhovanion."
She nodded and said, "I thank thee for thy tidings, Broddr. There is much I know not."
"There is much we know not, else we would not ride hither and thither, measuring the miles and noting the shapes of the land," he said with a smile, and his two companions laughed at that. "We have been nine years upon this errand now."
"Aye, and here we find the best farmer in our realm, not a long day's walk south of our city," said another rider, shaking his head, "and unknown for two dozen years."
They stood thus, speaking a while of the woman's farming and of the state of King Marhwini's realm as it then stood. During that time it became apparent to the riders that whilst she had grown adept at the cultivating of fields and the care of her beasts, she knew not many skills and methods commonplace amongst their people. Despite their initial surprise, they came to understand that she had taught herself most of what she knew, drawing on a single evening's visit to Baron's farm a quarter century ago.
"We are soldiers of the king, and know not the ways of farming," said the second rider, "yet I wager thy life could be enriched by learning of cheese making to preserve milk, the churning of butter, the use of thy chickens for eggs and meat, the tanning of hides and the working of leather. Cows, sheep, and even horses grow old and can no longer work, yet they may still provide for thee even when their days of labor are done."
E'er practical, the woman nodded in understanding and yearned to know such things. Her cows produced more milk than she could drink, and with the loss of Vera, she had none to trade her surplus with. Already, she had baskets of grain not yet ground into flour, sealed containers of honeycombs, and baskets of honeyed fruit, dried apple slices, dried onions and potatoes.
"I would welcome the chance to speak with other farmers and learn that of which ye tell. Yet more than this, I would welcome neighbors to trade with again. Would that some could come to live again in Vera."
Now the day grew old and Anor sank towards the peaks of the Hithaeglir in the west. The woman invited the riders to camp in the yard, and she provided them with fresh berries, apples and honeyed cakes freshly baked, and fresh milk in plenty to drink. In the morn they showed her the wholesomeness of boiled eggs to go with her oatmeal and apple sauce.
"South 'cross the stream lies Hafrland¹," she said, hoping to aid them in their map making, "but I have not explored the lands east or west." ¹(Hafrland, Goatland Old Norse)
They deemed that they had learnt enough for this trip and declared their intent to return to Sunnan Hǫrgr, for they had great tidings to share with their captain. When they rode for home, they took with them many cuttings of raspberry and blackberry, and many apple seeds that would take root 'nigh their city and provide fruit in years to come.
"As thou claim no name, we shall call thee Norðr-vestandóttir, Northwestern daughter, and thy estate we shall mark as Norðr-vestandóttir Bý on our maps," Broddr said as he turned his horse from her yard. "Thereby shall thy claim be acknowledged by our king."
Broddr and his riders returned to their city and made their report to Captain Hrólfr, and he was amazed at all they had to tell. The next day he took his guard and rode to Nýrheim and told all he had heard to his king. Marhwini too was gladdened by the tale of the farm and its mistress, and at his captain's request, gave leave for some to remove south from Sunnan Hǫrgr and repopulate Vera. Into the king's hands, the captain gave small pots of fired clay with cuttings of raspberry and blackberry, for he knew his king's enjoyment of those fruits.
In the years that followed, many farmers removed from the Southern Sanctuary and made Nýr, (New), Vera their home. Thither too did many craftsmen and tradesmen find their way. There a new city of the Northmen rose within a sturdy palisade, with watchtowers and a growing company of riders for its defense. Much aid they had in establishing their fields, orchards, and herds, and much they shared with Norðr-vestandóttir, and by their exchange, both were enriched. Yet she removed not from her farm, but traded her surplus with the expanding population of Nýr Vera, which in latter days would come to be known as Suꝺriborg, the Southern Fortress.
By 1896, Nýr Vera had grown, quickly and steadily, so that its population surpassed that of Sunnan Hǫrgr. This migration was welcomed by King Marhwini, for it placed more of his strength further south and he wagered t'would aid the scheme that had taken root in his mind. T'would still be years ere he was ready to act, yet he had ne'er forsaken the hope of liberating his old homeland. Two score years he had dwelt 'nigh Anduin, enduring what he still thought of as an extended exile. The son of Marhari would be three score and five ere year's end, and his vigor would not last fore'er.
During the years 'twixt Broddr's first visit and the renewal of Nýr Vera, Norðr-vestandóttir learnt from the Northmen better uses for her livestock and poultry. Soon she slept on a more comfortable mattress, restuffed twice a year with feathers. She felt stronger for eating eggs and some of the chickens, though none still laying. The eggs too added body and richness to her baked goods, as did the butter churned from excess milk. The making of cheese had taken her many trials to learn. There had been some disasters and some peculiar results along the way, but her new friends helped her greatly and she was thankful. Now, rather than hauling raw flour and fruit to trade, she brought pies filled with berries, jars of jams and preserves, butter, cheeses, and apple sauce. Honey was still welcome, as was beeswax.
She traded for containers of fired clay, a butter churn, boxes, and furnishings of wood, a hat, boots, and work gloves of leather. A froe and some chisels she commissioned from the new blacksmith. The saddler ne'er ceased trying to sell her horse tack, but she would only trade for panniers of leather, more durable and weatherproof than the ones she wove.
After nine years alone, the years that followed were increasingly happy for Norðr-vestandóttir. Now at last, she had a name and a place amongst her people. If some whispered that she was forty years older than she looked, they were also quick to recount her Dúnedain heritage, which none could prove or disprove, but which all accepted. The truth, that she was closer to five thousand one hundred fifty years of age ne'er crossed their minds even in their wildest dreams, and they would not have believed it in any case.
In the spring of 1897, when 'twas confirmed to the king that six in ten of his people now dwelt in Nýr Vera, he decreed that New Refuge would thereafter be the seat of his authority in those lands. The results of that proclamation were two-fold. First, the king's regent in the south would move his home to Nýr Vera, and second, another two in ten immediately prepared to migrate.
O'er the years since he had last seen the hamlet, and especially following Broddr's account of her farm, Captain Hrólfr's curiosity had grown regarding the strange woman he had met on the night of the massacre. Alas, during the ensuing twenty-six years, he had been given no cause to return and duties aplenty to stay him from riding thither for his curiosity's sake. Now, he was commanded to do so. And so a fortnight after receiving his king's decree, he packed up his family and escorted a cart south with the Men of his guard about him.
Hrólfr was then three score and seven years of age, and he deemed t'would be his last migration. Rekkr¹ Hrólfrsune, his eldest, was ready to take his place, whilst his younger son and daughter were both ready for betrothal. More than e'er he regretted the years of fighting and flight in the 1850s that had kept him from wedding 'til the age of thirty-eight. Now he hoped he would live to see his grandchildren prosper in their new home. ¹(Rekkr, Warrior (m) Old Norse)
The captain's company entered Nýr Vera in the late afternoon, and they moved into a cabin built with haste o'er the past fortnight in preparation for the lord's arrival. 'Twas the minimum acceptable accommodation and expansion would begin the next morn, but for that night, the family 'camped' in their empty home and made plans to explore the settlement the next day.
O'er the following three weeks, the cabin was expanded fourfold. Captain Hrólfr and his son Rekkr were given a full tour of the growing city. They heard reports from the riders, learnt of the security of the surrounding lands, and met the people. They saw the fields, the pastures, the horses and other livestock, the market, and shops of craftsmen, and so they came to understand the productive capacity of the place and its people. Plans for defense and further expansion were discussed. The schedule of patrols 'twixt Nýr Vera and Sunnan Hǫrgr were confirmed and companies assigned to ride them.
Finally, after what had felt like some of the longest weeks in years, Captain Hrólfr called for Broddr to be his guide, and with his son Rekkr, he rode out of the palisade and 'cross the stream heading south. Much as he loved his people, he was glad for the quiet and peace to be found outside the city walls. The three Men climbed the rise and the captain recalled watching the woman with her herd of horses explode o'er the crest, running down the fleeing Yrch ere descending to the bridge. That night, the grass on the rise had been undisturbed. Now they struck a track with wagon ruts that began at the south side of the bridge. It ran on, up and o'er the crest and they followed it with their horses at a walk. In the past few years a road had been established leading south towards the small river, but well downstream of Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, for by virtue of the water volume and current, a grist mill had been established to grind the grain of the farmers of New Refuge.
Soon a wood surrounded them and the land gently rose and fell. They came a mile and a half ere turning onto a side track, far less traveled, that led due south. In another quarter-mile they found a fence of split rails stretching off through the trees in both directions, but with a gap for traffic on the track. Eventually they rounded a hillock standing to their west and came in sight of the river, and there stood a copse of trees and a wide swath of berry brambles. Broddr led them 'round the hillock, and turning away from the stream, they finally saw the cabin 'neath its apple trees, the grain fields and gardens, with the horses and cows and sheep mingling unpenned, whilst chickens scratched and pecked at the ground.
"Captain, t'would seem the cabin is enlarged since last I saw it, and now I mark a separate stable for the horses, where aforetime they were housed in the larger portion of the cabin opposite the chimney. The wildflower garden has 'nigh doubled in size and I count a dozen beehives within it," Broddr reported.
Past the cabin and its yard, the track continued on towards the mill that stood out of sight 'round a curve downstream. A wagon was parked, resting empty and idle in the yard. As aforetime, one wall of the cabin was lined with split firewood, stacked 'nigh the height of the eaves, enough to last more than a winter. They rode into the yard and dismounted.
"Norðr-vestandóttir," Broddr called out, "thou hast visitors."
After a few minutes, during which he repeated his call, the woman appeared from a small shed where smoke seeped through the roofing thatch. She saw them straightaway, waved, and came o'er smelling of wood smoke.
"Good day, Broddr," she said, then stopped to stare at the captain. "I have seen thee aforetime, many years ago."
"Good day, Norðr-vestandóttir," Broddr said with a smile. "This is Captain Hrólfr, lord of Nýr Vera, and his son Rekkr."
If the woman was surprised to see him, the captain was shocked to silence to meet her again. At first he could but stare at her and nod in agreement with her recognition of him. She recovered herself and offered the lords a bow.
"Greetings, Captain Hrólfr and Rekkr Hrólfrsune" she said. "Thou led the riders who came to aid the settlers of Vera on the grim night of their slaughter."
"Greetings, Norðr-vestandóttir," the captain finally managed to say. "Twenty-six years have fled, and to my eyes thou art unchanged from that night. I can scarce believe it."
Beside him, Rekkr looked the woman o'er in amazement. He would have sworn she was a few years younger than he, yet his father claimed her unchanged from when he had been a babe in his first year.
"So said my friends in Gamall¹ Vera, whom I first met in 1856," she said after a few moments. "Perhaps I am unchanged after forty-one years." ¹(gamall, old(adj) Old Norse)
"We must be of an age then," Hrólfr said, "for I can count sixty-seven winters."
"Such may well be, lord, yet I knew not my age when I awoke in the forest and I am loath to claim 'aught that I cannot prove."
The captain nodded to her, then shook his head, still amazed.
"How stands thy farm, Norðr-vestandóttir?" Broddr asked, turning the conversation to more comfortable subjects.
The woman smiled and joy lit her eyes.
"All things are improved since Vera is renewed. I have learnt much and made many friends. The herds thrive. Some I have traded away, but still there are thirty-three horses, though some come and some go, nineteen milk cows, six calves, two bulls, one young and one mature in paddocks o'er the hill, and twenty-six sheep," she declared. "The chickens I count not," she added with a shrug. She then paused, making some calculations.
"I have fenced roughly a half-mile square, three hundred twenty acres, though it hath been the labor of several years," she admitted. "On that land, I cultivate two acres each of wheat, oats, rye, and lucerne, in upper and lower fields of an acre, with equal acreage fallowed each year. Ere the building of the mill, I cultivated less than an acre of each crop because hand grinding the flour was too time consuming. Now, the miller and his family are my closest neighbors.
From the past harvest came two hundred twenty stone of wheat flour, one hundred fifty stone of rye flour, two hundred stone of oat groats, and of the lucerne, supplemental forage for the horses, cows, and sheep through the winter and early spring.
The remaining acreage is mostly open pasture or preserved woodland, with about an acre for the yard 'round my home and outbuildings, an acre for the wildflowers that host the beehives, and a half-acre for the vegetable garden."
"Thou hast done well, Norðr-vestandóttir," Broddr said with a smile.
"Of late I have learnt the smoking of cheeses," she said, waving a hand o'er her shoulder towards the shed from which she had appeared.
Thinking more strategically, Captain Hrólfr realized that the woman's farm was built 'round a core of 'nigh twenty acres, and could support a company of thirty riders, or perhaps a score of knights and their families, more if some fought afoot. She could probably double that if she had but a half-dozen field hands to aid her at farming. 'Twas potentially a lordly estate capable of projecting significant military power, a safeguard to protect the mill and his southern flank. He thought of his dozen guards and family of six, eighteen souls all told. He recalled the farms of Nýr Vera, most of them mono-crop with perhaps a couple horses and a cow for milk.
"Norðr-vestandóttir, we must speak of a matter dear to the king," he said. "Being the most southerly of our people, it may bear upon thee in days to come. Wilt thou hearken and hear tell of it?"
After an expression of surprise, the woman nodded 'aye' and led them into the cabin. 'Twas an open space with the hearth along one wall, with a sleeping alcove and chest opposite the door. A cabinet of cookware and dishes stood to one side of the hearth, and to the other, a spinning wheel and loom 'neath the single broad window. He could see the remains of the wall that had once separated her living space from the horse shelter, now reclaimed, and an opening in the wall past the hearth leading to a pantry. A large table and chairs stood in the center of the room, and another bench was set before the fire. Had he known her history, he would have realized that she had duplicated the home of Baron and Minya, seen for a single night after she had first come from the forest.
They seated themselves 'round the table and she brought them mugs of cider. Then she set her elbows on the tabletop and rested her chin on her hands, and she cast her eyes upon him, giving him her full attention.
Captain Hrólfr sighed, but he proceeded to speak of what had been a closely held desire of his king.
"Thou hast heard that many of our folk remained in the east, subjugated and enslaved by the very same Wainriders that drove us hither. King Marhwini still keeps hope that the fortunes of our people may be amended and the Easterlings driven out that we may reclaim the lands of our fathers. Seventeen years ago he gave leave to repopulate Vera, for it lies 'cross the forest from the bight that is home to many of our people. In the last year we have sent some of great courage back through the forest, mapping trails and the shapes of the land, and now these have made contact with some of our folk in the east."
A smile shaped Norðr-vestandóttir's lips and she cast her eyes to those 'round the table. Broddr smiled and gave her a nod and a wink by which she knew he had been one of those who had surveyed the forest.
"I pray thee keep watch for any of our people coming from the east," the captain said. "They may be agents of the king, or even some few fled from the East Bight who can offer tidings. One day, we hope that they can rise up against their foreign masters, and on that day we would stand ready to aid them."
"Lord, I shall do 'aught that I can to aid any such as may come to me, and direct them to thee in Nýr Vera," she said.
The captain took his leave shortly after, and Norðr-vestandóttir sent him off with her good wishes and apples, honey, and some of the hard, smoked cheeses that she had learnt to make.
Now the woman went about her business and in truth, she doubted that she would see any fled from the east, for they would be rare indeed. Of those sent thither on the king's business, they knew the way to Nýr Vera and would not appear at her farm by mistake. 1897 faded and 1898 began. The year slipped past with the cycle of the seasons and the progression of growth, harvest, and winter's rest. 'Twas 'nigh the end of the second month of 1899, with winter's chill still frosting peoples' breath, that a desperate pounding came on her door. Night had fallen a couple hours earlier and so she was rousted from sleep. She donned a cloak, lit a candle, and answered the knocking.
Before her in the low light cast from the doorway by the candle and the remains of her fire stood a ragged Man in a tattered cloak, with a bow o'er his shoulder and a haunted look in his eyes. He well 'nigh fell onto her floor, so exhausted was he by his flight. She hauled him in front of the fire to warm him, and then brought water and bread and cheese.
For long he sat before the fire shivering ere he would even take water or sustenance. Rather than pelt him with questions, Norðr-vestandóttir sat silent, waiting on him to speak when he felt able. In the meantime, she rebuilt the fire and wondered if perhaps he too had lost his memory. Finally, after sipping of the water and having a bite, he sighed and tried to compose himself ere he spoke.
"My lady, thou hast my heartfelt thanks for thy aid. Much longer and I reckon I would have perished, for cold and exhaustion had already brought a drowsiness that only leads to death. I have run three days and nights to escape through the forest and the lands west. Dire tidings I bear. I must warn the king. Please, I beg thee, aid me to come to him."
She marked that even after the better part of an hour, his teeth chattered when he ceased speaking, and he hugged himself to warm his body as he sat in front of the fire.
"We shall go nowhere this night, sir, for if thy tidings are truly so dire, then I shall not risk thy passing by again venturing forth into the cold. Stay, rest, and recover thy strength. In the morn we shall ride to Nýr Vera to meet Captain Hrólfr. 'Tis but two miles, but thou must be able to keep thy seat riding bareback. Thy words shall come to King Marhwini three days hence, for he dwells in Nýrheim, forty leagues north."
At first he tried to rise, and it seemed he wanted to argue her course, but finally he sank back, knowing he was too weak to ride. A sigh escaped him and he shook his head, accepting his plight.
"I am Bláinn son of Glámr, of late a slave of Brodda, a prince of the Easterlings. They plan to attack Gondor when the weather clears. Word must come to their king in Minas Anor."
"Word shall come to them, Bláinn, but not tonight," she said, thinking it ironic that to send a warning one hundred eighty leagues south, those tidings must first come forty leagues north.
To Be Continued