In An Age Before – Part 292
As the Helluin and the Tatyar watched, the Yrch encircled the first home in the hamlet. There a group of six separated themselves from their band and came to the door, demanding entry by pounding upon it so hard that the Elves clearly heard each blow ringing through the night from two furlongs away. When their summons went unanswered too long for their scant patience, they broke it down. Then there were screams and curses and in short order, fire. A family of five were dragged into their yard and with yet more screams, slaughtered without mercy.
The sounds of violence carried through the stillness and immediately, heads poked from windows, doors were flung open, and folk strode out. They saw the home afire and in its glare, the Yrch. The Elves marked that some Men bore weapons and others turned back inside and reemerged armed. Moments later, the fighting began.
'Twas now obvious that there was no love lost 'twixt the Yrch and the settlers and any notion of their confederation died as bodies began to fall. Soon, a pitched battle was joined in the lanes and along the road. Homes, barns, and livestock sheds went up in flames whilst Men wielding spears, ancient swords, youths bearing hunting bows, and even women and gaffers armed with farm implements fought for their lives. By firelight and starlight, Yrch and Men clashed and died, but the defenders fell the quicker.
The people of the community had made no choice save to survive. 'Aught else had been made for them with fire and murder. Whether these Men were friends or foes of Rohan now mattered little, for they were foes of the Orcs of the Misty Mountains.
"We may ne'er be allies of these Dunlendings, but we have enemies in common," Ngandáro declared.
"We ride to destroy the Yrch," said Helluin, "and if the witches oppose ye, slay them too. If not, then we shall sort this quandary after."
Then the Elves urged their warhorses to a gallop and closed on the hamlet as they set arrows to their bowstrings. Into the hamlet they came with a staccato rhythm of hoof beats, ignored by the combatants 'til they were close enough to see their foes' eyes in the firelight, and by then, Orcs were already falling to their shafts.
Helluin and the Tatyar charged down the road, but the hamlet was so small that they rode straight through it and out the far side having only been able to loose two arrows apiece. Though these proved deadly, leaving a score and ten fallen in their wake, they were forced to turn and reverse their charge. Again, they galloped into the hamlet and more Yrch fell to their unfailing aim.
Since coming to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý in 2464, the fourteen Avari had spent two and a half centuries perfecting their warcraft as mounted archers. They were far more capable and far more deadly than any Ranger of Gondor or Rider of the Eorlingas. As they turned from their second pass through the hamlet, three score foes lay dead and the remaining thirty-odd finally moved to cluster on the road to oppose their mounted enemies. Sprawled on the ground and lit by the flames of homes and outbuildings, a score and seven settlers lay stricken.
The Yrch knew not yet who their attackers were, but being mounted defenders of the western border of Rohan, they deemed them Riders of the Westfold and warriors of the king. They were far more formidable adversaries than the farmers, whom they reckoned they would deal with after slaying the horsemen. And they had marked that they were few, for though they knew not the count of their own slain yet, those gathered now in the center of the hamlet saw that they outnumbered the riders at least two to one.
Emboldened by their advantage and excited by the prior bloodletting, they grasped their weapons and awaited the onslaught of the mounted archers with jeers and lustful anticipation, imagining pulling them from their saddles and eating their faces. Their blood and their shrieks of horror would feed the Orcs' hearts as much as the meat would feed their bellies.
There was a disadvantage for the Elves in charging down a road waylaid against them by more numerous infantry. They bore no spears or lances. Unlike the Rohirrim, who charged with spears leveled to try the mettle of foes, the Elves would only get a single shot off ere riding into the press of their enemies. Then they would be left holding bows rather than swords or axes and their chosen weapons would turn from a deadly threat into a liability. In the center of the hamlet, they lacked the free space to encircle the Yrch at a safe distance whilst shooting inward towards their enemies.
Though their options were reduced, Helluin the Tatyar still held the advantage of mounted warriors, indeed more than one. Aside from greater mobility and speed, their bows conferred the virtue of being able to slay from a distance and they were not obligated to charge into the midst of their foes. Therefore, they advanced at a trot 'til they came within twenty yards of the Yrch and then began shooting them, and when in frustration the Yrch charged forward towards them, the Elves simply retreated to maintain the standoff distance and continued shooting.
Now swiftly the end came of the Orcs and the last, Helluin shot through both knees so that he could neither flee, nor stand and fight. Then she dismounted and approached him, and coming 'nigh, kicked away his blade, leaving him sitting on the ground helpless. Defiant to the last, he snarled and stared her in the eyes as if daring her to finish him. Yet he received neither the taunts of a victor, nor a swift stroke to end his suffering.
His final thought ere the night-darkened lands disappeared was that, this is no knight of the straw-heads. Then his world was subsumed in her eyes and his thought was laid bare. No secrets could he withhold even though no questions were asked of him. Helluin invaded the Orc's mind, plucking what she would whilst holding him thrall. Immobilized and divorced from his body, he collapsed before her on the ground, panting his last breaths. When she had learnt all he knew, the Noldo drove his spirit from his body with her Light and he went limp, the last of his company to die in their failed raid. By then, some of the settlers had dared gathered 'round, but they were held at bay by the arrows of the Tatyar who bent their bows to guard Helluin's back during her interrogation.
Now after the Orch lay dead, Helluin returned her attention to the hamlet. Roughly half of the surviving farmers stood in a loose circle 'round them, whilst the rest, spread out through the settlement, knelt to minister to their fallen, or wailed in woe o'er their dead. Some of the gathered faces were familiar from her weeks of spying, but Helluin greeted none of them and for a while, they stood speechless, staring at the Elves. Finally, seeing that none had raised their weapons against her friends, the Noldo bid the Tatyar lower their bows and all relaxed somewhat from the tension of the battle.
"This Orc named himself Glumog¹," Helluin said, gesturing with one hand to the corpse at her feet, "and he dwelt in the caves of Methedras with many of his kind. When these fallen here return not, more shall come to avenge them and ye shall be slain." ¹(Glumog, Pissmouth = glu(piss) + mog(mouth) Orkish)
The people stared at her, and finally a few whispered comments about what they had seen. Yet rather than fear of the Yrch or despair for their future, they spoke of shock at the strangers and not because they had appeared unheralded to save them.
"Witch!" shouted a farmer, pointing at Helluin. "She slew the Goblin without touchin' him!"
"She spoke to him in silence! I saw it with my own eyes!" an old woman cried out and 'round her others nodded, for they too had heard no words pass 'twixt Helluin and the Orc.
"The black-scaled demon cnāwen¹ the enemy's speech!" accused another farmer. ¹(cnāwen, knew v. past part., Old English)
"Demon! Sorceress!" The crowd took up their cries and accusations. "Maðelere¹ o' devil's tongues!" ¹(Maðelere, Speaker Old English)
Already agitated after fighting for their lives, their mood turned ugly, and as a mob, they advanced a step closer. Hearing the shouts, more settlers gathered, and some began brandishing their weapons. The Tatyar raised their bows and drew, choosing targets. Helluin groaned to herself at the absurd turn the situation had taken.
Me? A witch? Nonsense! What a superstitious lot they are, she thought to herself.
"Ye think me a witch? And for weeks we have listened and heard ye casting spells o'er fell dishes and children singing dark verses whilst playing at being Orcs," Helluin said, loud enough for all to hear. Again they stared at her, this time sputtering in disbelief that would soon to turn again to rage. Ere they could resume their accusations, the Noldo raised her voice and recited the first spell she had heard in their hamlet.
"Sing a song of wiccecræft,
A kettle full o' lye.
Four an' twenty blackbirds,
Baked inside a pie.
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When the pie is opened,
Dead birds began to sing.
What an āwierged dish,
To set before the king."
"Darest thou seek to poison Déor King with thy bespelled pies?" she asked, having marked Aida amongst those new come from mourning the dead. "Wouldst thou curse Edoras with blackbird wights or worse, perchance?"
The woman's mouth dropped open in shock as Helluin stared at her, and the other settlers turned to face her.
"'Tis a nursery rhyme meant for children, to warn 'em against the ensnarements o' witches or any that offer 'aught unearnt an' too appealing for reason lest it reveal too late its evil," she sputtered. "My cousin an' I recited it for our amusement as we'd done as girls, an' the pie held chicken an' vegetables. Two dozen blackbirds'd be far too much work to catch, pluck, an' dress."
Helluin shook her head, hardly believing a word she had said. She would e'er think of Aida as a witch.
"And what of the dark amusements of the children in this settlement? We have marked their cruelty and morbidity, and even their emulation of such as assailed ye this night. Their sentiments sprang not without a source."
Then she sang the trio of children's' songs that Lirulin and Nieninque had o'erheard.
"Maida had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow.
An' e'erywhere that Maida went,
The lamb was wont to go.
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It trailed her up a greening hill,
Then down into a dell.
An' last into a quicksand pool,
Where it followed her to hell."
"Baa, baa blackguard,
Hast thou any wool?
Aye sir, aye sir,
Three bags full.
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One for the turnkey,
An' one for his dame.
An' one for the crookback,
That's poxy, deaf, an' lame."
"Tingle, tingle puckered scar,
How we wonder what thou are!
Branded on thy forehead high,
Like a staring lidless eye.
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All the black night's sky thou keep,
An' oft through my curtains peep,
Thy master ne'er shuts his eye,
He watches 'til the day we die.
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'Tis thy shuffling in the dark,
Servant's cries that bid us hark,
Tho' we know not who thou are,
Ye that bear the puckered scar."
Helluin laid the toe of her boot on the fallen Orc's forehead and lo, it bore the brand of service to the Dark Lord.
"Here is the puckered scar of the Lidless Eye, the emblem of Sauron Gorthaur with which the children gaily anointed one another in mud, in anticipation of the day when they shall swear fealty to the faithless Lord of Mordor! We have thought they learnt this from their parents whose allegiance we suspected 'til we saw those we deemed ye shared league with attacking and slaughtering ye."
Silence filled the road as the circle of villagers looked at Helluin in astonishment.
"They're all three of 'em nursery rhymes an' each teaches a lesson to the children," an old farmer finally said. He lowered the pitchfork he had borne as a weapon and shook his head as he leant on it. "The first shows the ill fate that can come o' blindly followin' those unfit to lead. The second admonishes the robber, for his ill-got gains shall be taken from him an' he be sentenced to serve even the most unfortunate honest citizen. The third is for the relief o' tension an' warns o' the Goblins.
Hast thou ne'er seen soldiers mock their foes to assuage their fear on the eve o' battle? One girt as a warrior as thou art should've seen such aforetime. The children here live in fear, for we've been assailed aforetime."
With that explanation, it all made sense, though 'twas not the way any Elf would teach such lessons to their child. Still, what had appeared suspicious and damning was simply a different way of presenting the values and wisdom of their people to children quick to grow and then short-lived.
Helluin sighed. She had been ready to accept that the settlers were dangerous foes of Rohan and Gondor and to slaughter them unjustly, with no more mercy than the Yrch. The thought made her ill and it took her many deep breaths ere she could master her gorge. Looking 'round at the Tatyar, she saw that they too were racked by contemplating the atrocity they had been so close to committing.
"Who speaks for the village?" the Noldo asked. "We would take counsel with ye o'er the threat of Methedras and this Lord Freca from whom we have heard some fled."
The old farmer shrugged and the rest stood silent, looking back and forth 'twixt each other in indecision. Finally, 'twas Aida the witch who spoke.
"There was Cap'n Brandir, but he an' his were first to die." She looked pointedly at the house just beyond the hamlet whence the Yrch had pulled the family of five into their yard and slaughtered them, and where the fire was already dying down.
A leaderless collection of victims waiting on their next tragedy, Helluin thought, O joy.
"Who then amongst ye have lived here longest or have seen attacks aforetime?" she asked.
The old farmer and several other elders raised their hands, but also some younger folk including Aida the witch and her husband Seabert who bore an ancient sword. They had all been born in the hamlet and dwelt there for their entire lives.
"Have ye a space used for meetings?" Helluin asked them.
"Sometimes we'd hold councils in Beldon's barn, but 'twas burnt this night," one of the elders said, shaking his head.
"We've the granary, mostly empty after winter save for the mice," suggested Seabert. "At least 'twas spared the flames."
Helluin caught the attention of the Tatyar, pointed to her eyes and then swept a hand 'round the hamlet. The Avari silently broke into four groups to keep watch with three riding to each end of the settlement on the road and four riding to the edges of the fields bordering each side.
Helluin joined the farmers as they walked to a two-story building of planks just off the market. Within, she saw many empty bins for storing grain and several cats lounging in the shadows, but not a single mouse.
The old farmer's name was Ives and he gestured them to sit on crates that they pulled into the center of the granary. The cats studiously ignored them because they offered no food, but a quad of curious kittens tumbled from a pile of straw and gathered 'round the Noldo's boots. When they tried to climb her greaves, she lifted them to her lap and absentmindedly stroked their fur.
"Ye have been attacked aforetime," Helluin said, looking at the faces of the farmers.
"Last afore this night was twelve years past," said Ives and the others nodded in agreement.
"We were attacked a score an' seven years past when I was a child," Aida said.
"'Twas just shy, for they came in summer then," said Cady, one of the other seniors, and Aida dipped her head, conceding the point.
"More came three years ere thy birth, two score an' four years past," said Ives.
"They attacked the fall I was married," another old farmer named Siddel said, "fifty-six winters past." Thereafter, the farmers sat silent for it seemed none recalled an assault ere that.
Save that the Yrch had ne'er attacked twice in a decade, there seemed little regularity to their assaults though they were far more frequent than the slaughters at Helrunahlæw had been.
"Have ye lore telling of earlier attacks if none here recall any earlier from memory?" the Noldo asked. To this, all the farmers vigorously nodded their heads 'aye'.
"'Tis said that seven centuries past we had respite from 'em for o'er a hundred years," Siddel said.
"'Twas 'nigh a century an' a half," corrected Cady, "or so my ealdfæder¹ told." ¹(ealdfæder, grandfather Old English)
Seven hundred forty years aforetime, Helluin had exterminated the Yrch of Methedras ere meeting Glorfindel, Galadhon, Thórá, and Gwingion and returning to Eriador. She was glad to hear that her rampage through the Hithaeglir had gifted these people a hundred fifty years of peace. She was less happy to learn that by 2125, the Orcs had repopulated their warrens.
"We have a legend," offered Aida, and Helluin thought, O here we go, whilst she resisted rolling her eyes and nodded for her to continue.
"In the beginnin' came a great Die-Off. The first of us only survived after Goblins ate some of our dyin' an' died themselves. We had 'nigh two centuries o' peace after," she said, though the Noldo could hear the doubt in her voice. Strangely, her legend was true.
"Thou speak of the Great Plague of 1636," Helluin told her, "and at least some of thy folk had been here ere it started, soldiers of Gondor tasked to guard the fortress of Angrenost."
"The people of the sea-kings? Sauron's outpost? The Devil's Black Tower? Soldiers from Stāningeard? They don't come here!" the farmers exclaimed in shock.
Helluin gaped at their expressions of disbelief. They thought Orthanc an outpost of the Dark Lord? Truly? Yet she realized that perhaps no solders of Gondor had come to this hinterland in almost nine centuries, for the kings and the stewards had been occupied defending the south and the east. Nine centuries was well 'nigh fore'er to the Middle Men and the Men of Darkness.
"Then who made slain Brandir a captain?" she asked.
"His sire an' his sire's sire?" Cady guessed, shrugging in uncertainty.
"The head o' that family was always named Cap'n. It didn't mean nothin'," said Aida.
"And whence came thy sword, Seabert?" Helluin asked.
"From my sire an' his sire and his sires afore is all I know," the farmer said.
"Pray show me thy blade," the Noldo requested. Seabert drew his sword and handed it o'er so Helluin could examine it.
She saw at once that though the farmer was no warrior, he and his ancestors had kept the weapon well. 'Twas not a speck of rust on its length, and 'twas honed deadly sharp. Just past the crossguard on its ricasso were inscribed a couple lines of Tengwar.
"Here is writ in the Quenya tongue, 'Forged in Minas Anor to serve the Line of Eldacar. 1463 May the hand that wields it know strength and honour.' I deem this sword came from the garrison of Angrenost and was once issued to a soldier of Gondor, thine ancestor, perhaps," Helluin said.
She handed the sword back and Seabert received it with an expression of shock and disbelief.
"Forged twelve hundred fifty years past," he muttered as he stared at the blade, "long ere the Die-Off."
"I wager an ancestor of thine served an ancestor of Captain Brandir," Helluin said, "who commanded the garrison."
"'Tis said the people of the sea-kings are long lived," Aida said, "but Seabert's sire lived no longer than any other here'bouts." Beside her, her husband nodded in agreement as he sheathed his sword.
Helluin nodded to this, for not all Dúnedain were of the line of Elros and perhaps their longevity had faded with the repeated mingling of their blood with lesser Men, just as Castamir and his followers had feared.
"How long lived thy sire, Seabert?" the Noldo asked, expecting to be proven correct.
"Four score an' twelve, much like his kin," the farmer answered.
Ninety-two years, a couple decades less than many a Dúnadan of Gondor these days, Helluin thought. So then, do all the folk of this settlement live such spans?
"Four score and twelve…pray tell, is such oft the lifespan of the people here?"
"Aye, more or less," said Ives. "I've seen three score an' seventeen winters an' Siddel four score an' two."
"And the folk from 'cross the river in Dunland?" she asked.
"They live a harder life," Aida said, "and most pass ere reachin' four score, by then oft sickly. We deem those that come hither ne'er recover from their harsh times in childhood."
"So thy cousin and her family?"
"Greta, Kenley, an' Whit came o'er the river, fleein' strife an' Freca's rēafian. 'Tis sad, but I reckon they'll not recover." The witch shook her head in sorrow o'er the fate of her cousin's family, but no spell she knew could redeem them. They had grown up living a harsh life.
What Aida saw as the legacy of their environment, Helluin guessed had more to do with mixed Rohirric and Dunlendish blood, or perhaps a pure Dunlendish ancestry. Their lineage had not yet married into the old Dúnedain strain that might buy them another score years of life. The Noldo nodded and passed to the next topic.
"I would know of this Lord Freca of whom I have heard some rumour. What can ye tell me of him and his realm?" The farmers looked to one another, but offered 'naught.
"All o' us grew up here an' none came from o'er the river," said Cady, reminding Helluin, "as thou asked." To this, she could only nod, having requested those long residing in the settlement.
"We should ask o' my coz, Greta an' her husband Kenley," Aida finally said.
"Would thy cousin and her husband join us and tell of their experiences ere coming hither?" the Noldo asked the witch.
Aida nodded 'aye' and said, "They chaff still for havin' to flee their homes. I reckon they'll be blīþe sprecan¹, especially after this night." ¹(sprecan, to speak inf. v. Old English)
"Pray invite them to attend us then, Aida," Helluin asked. The witch nodded and took her leave of the granary.
During their council, the kittens had curled up and dozed off, but now they woke from their nap and began mewling. Soon, a tortie with a crooked tail sauntered o'er and leapt up to join them, licking their faces, then lying on her side draped o'er Helluin's tassets with her back against the Noldo's fauld. There she took to nursing her brood and licking her jowls.
To reduce the awkwardness of their time waiting, Helluin again asked if any knew 'aught of Freca. The farmers knew only what those recently come o'er the Isen had told them, for Freca's lands lay well south and to the west. Still, they had heard that he was yet young, barely o'er score years of age, and that he had taken the lordship on the death of his sire in 2708. He had immediately begun raising an army, indiscriminately conscripting men and youths, and assailing any he thought aligned against him. 'Twas said he that was unsubtle in pursuing his goals of increasing his prestige and expanding his holdings. Eventually, Aida returned with Greta and Kenley, who still bore a spear. They sat, sharing a crate and eyeing the nursing kittens in Helluin's lap.
"What can ye tell us of Lord Freca?" Helluin asked them. "'Aught ye know would be of aid."
The witch and her husband nodded to her and then looked to each other. Finally, 'twas Kenley who spoke first.
"Lord Freca is now a score an' one an' succeeded to his sire's lordship three years past at the age o' eight an' ten, youngest to rule by all account amongst our folk. None opposed him tho', for he is lord by blood."
Lord of his folk at eighteen, Helluin thought to herself, and she could not but recall Araphor son of Arveleg I who had taken the throne of Arthedain at that same age in time of war.
"So, say ye that this Freca is truly a lord of the Eorlingas?" Helluin asked, just to be sure.
"Aye, his grandsire had to wife Lady Hertha, second sister o' King Frëawine, grandsire o' King Déor, or so Freca an' his sire oft repeated," Greta said.
"Proudly repeated an' repeated an' repeated…," Kenley muttered.
"So 'tis claimed, an' we know 'naught to gainsay it, for that tie o' kinship came ere our time," Greta said.
The Noldo nodded and asked, "Whither lie his lands?"
"South 'an west," said Kenley, "upstream on Adorn from its juncture with Isen. The lands 'twixt the two are part o' Rohan, an' thither lies a village he calls home, but he holds great sway 'cross Isen amongst the Dunlendings whom he also claims are his people."
"Many there acknowledge his rule for they followed his sire aforetime, an' now they follow him as he seeks to conquer more," said Greta, "an' for that, he takes men from their farms for his war bands."
So, a legitimate lord with distant ties to Rohan's kings vies to build a realm on the fringe of the Eorlingas' lands, Helluin thought, and if tradition holds, then he hath a seat on Déor's council. Perhaps since he campaigns in Dunland and subjugates Dunlendings, Déor deems him not a threat, or even a beneficiary of Rohan for vexing their hereditary foes. I wonder if he hath any fealty to the king or if he seeks to rival and perhaps supplant the right lord in Edoras one day.
The Noldo was drawn from her ruminations when a tabby leapt up onto her pauldrons and settled there, lying 'cross her shoulders. It began to clean its face by licking a paw and rubbing from brow to chin. Helluin sighed but left it be and returned her attention to the farmers.
"Can ye hazard a guess as to how many follow Freca in battle?" Helluin asked.
"We left rather than join his cause, so I'm unsure," said Kenley, "but if I had to guess, I'd say he claims the allegiance of three to four thousands."
"An' more are compelled to join him each day if they would live on their ancestral lands 'neath his rule," added Greta.
"And they campaign only in Dunland 'cross Isen?" Helluin asked, just to be sure, and both nodded 'aye'. The tabby had begun purring and nibbling on her hair, but she paid it no mind. The farmers cast surreptitious glances at the cats draped o'er the Noldo.
"Already he also claims some land south o' Adorn, but none dwell thither an' he hath less to gain campaigning thither, I wager," added Kenley, tearing his eyes from the cats.
"The land 'cross Adorn is part of Gondor," Helluin said. Though 'tis known as Drúwaith Iaur and the Dúnedain seldom tread thither.
"'Tis a land o' ill-repute an' we've heard it hath long lain empty," said Ives.
"The Dunlendings are shy of traveling thither," Cady agreed. "They say 'tis a land haunted an' its ghosts're unfriendly to Men." The other elder farmers nodded in agreement.
Maglor, Beinvír, and I were shy of traveling that land twelve centuries ago, Helluin recalled, and I imagine t'would be terrifying to the ignorant.
Whilst she had been distracted by her memories, a marmalade cat had sauntered o'er and leapt up to sit on her cuisses just above her knees. It touched noses in greeting with the tortie and then looked Helluin the eyes. She stared back, finally curious.
Fair night to thee, O hunter of mice and birds. Whyfor art thou and thy companions given to settling upon me?
Ahhh…she speaks! Fair night to thee, O bright one, despite the fires and slaughter. Thou art warm and solid and feel secure 'neath our paws, whilst the woolens of the farmers feel itchy, draw sparks, and smell poorly. Also, they shy from us as though we would bewitch them.
I have learnt that Men are oft slow to trust cats, much as they may depend upon ye for your prowess o'er vermin. I deem 'tis in part because ye catch them so easily at unawares, and ye fear not the darkness as they do.
Thy points are good, and they agree with our observations. Still, we are thankful that they labor growing grain and provide so much bait to draw mice hither for our nourishment. 'Tis far more pleasant to hunt herein than out in the fields, especially when the weather is foul.
I understand, and I agree, O hunter on silent paws, they are useful at times.
The marmalade cat yawned, breaking their connection, and then curled up and pretended to nap. Helluin felt dismissed, but returned her attention to the farmers who were looking at her with thinly veiled suspicion.
"Has Freca e'er crossed the Fords to trouble ye, or the Eorlingas?" she asked.
The farmers shook their heads 'nay' and Ives said, "We reckon him full occupied in Dunland an' 'naught augurs any change in that."
"An' may he stay in Dunland," Kenley said, "we've the Goblins to trouble us."
"Then I thank ye for your counsel," Helluin said. "The Yrch I shall remove from Methedras, though doubtless they shall return after, yet for a time, ye shall have peace from them. As Freca is kin to Déor, I shall leave him to the king."
"How shalt thou remove the Goblins? They are many and hide deep in the mountain," asked Cady.
"I shall destroy them in their lairs as I did in 1973. I shall catch them at unawares and make them fear the darkness," Helluin told them, and her voice was cold. The cats raised their heads at her words and looked at her. After 'aught else, they are just big rats, she told them. I bid ye a fair night. Now I must take my leave.
One by one, the cats leapt to the floor save that Helluin lifted and set the kittens down beside their mother. Then they slipped away into the shadows. The farmers watched it all and began muttering again of witchcraft and Helluin groaned.
"Have ye woad and the husks of walnut drupes or 'aught else with which I might dye my cloak black?" she asked.
To Be Continued