Revised June 2021

Breakup

:

III III III

In the early hours of the following morning, Anne woke up by someone shaking her roughly by the shoulder. It took her a moment to clue in the voice urgently calling her name, and then another to realise that this was not the element of a dream. Blinking her eyes open, she struggled to rise, coming to rest on her elbows. The room was still pitch black, save for a small pool of flickering light that came from a candle; Liecia's face seemed to be hovering above Anne in the darkness, looking pale and tense in the dim glow of the dancing flame.

"Quickly, get dressed," the young woman hissed.

"Wha's wrong?" Anne mumbled, her voice thick from sleep, while trying to shake off the drowsiness.

"I am not sure... Something happened. Hurry, you have to come down with me."

Anne fumbled her way into her borrowed dress and shoes, then staggered after Liecia out of the room and onto the dark landing.

"What happened?" she asked while following the other woman down a flight of stairs, nearly tripping over the hem of her skirt.

"I am not sure," Liecia repeated. "Saer, the Blacksmith's apprentice, came here, woke up Odo… Said, he heard screams and crashing noises from the Ashgroves' house. Fortunately, Master Dockleaf and the Ranger were still awake."

"I did not hear anything," Anne muttered as they crossed the dark, cool kitchen. The only light came from the still glowing remnants of the fire in the hearth.

"Neither did I," Liecia said. "Nesta woke up when Saer banged on the front door. She saw all four of them leave."

Both women entered the inn's common room through the doorway behind the counter. Nesta and three other women were huddled together at one of the tables, looking anxious and pale. One of them, with a long honey-coloured braid down her back, had a little boy in her arms, wrapped in a blanket. The child did not look older than two or three years and was clinging to his mother, his dark eyes huge and frightened. The other two strangers were both red-haired and looked very much like they might be mother and daughter. Liecia and Anne joined them, and Anne learnt that the women lived in houses close by. Apparently, Odo had knocked on their doors, asking their husbands to accompany him to the house of the Ashgroves, in case Dockleaf and Nardil might need help.

The atmosphere was solemn and tense; nobody spoke much, except for wondering aloud what was happening, and whether the men would come back soon. About twenty minutes later, there was the sound of hushed, deep voices and heavy footfall outside, which made them all turn towards the entrance. Only now, Anne saw that the heavy oak door was bolted shut. Seconds later, the rumble of Dockleaf's muffled voice could be heard.

"Careful now— Open up, it's us!"

He shouted the last part, but Nesta had already stood and swiftly strode to the door, where she was now hurriedly pulling back the deadbolts. A group of five or six people entered, with Dockleaf and Nardil leading the way. They were carrying a man who seemed to be unconscious. When the faint light of the candles and hearth fire illuminated his face, Anne felt like a clump of ice had slid down her stomach. The man's left temple, his eye and cheek were a mass of bruises and lacerations; his collar and most of his shirt were soaked in blood.

Right behind Nardil, Odo appeared in the doorway, half supporting a woman who was wrapped in a large cloak, which Anne thought she recognised as the Ranger's. The woman was very pale but looked unharmed, except for a small cut across her cheekbone - the thin red line stood out in sharp contrast to her almost colourless skin. Liecia was at her side immediately, putting one arm around the other woman's narrow shoulders.

"Idonea! Oh dear, what happened? Are you—"

But the woman mutely shook her head, not taking her dark eyes from the injured man.

"Let us get him in here," Nardil said, heading for the door to the parlour. "Nesta, would you please go and fetch clean linen, hot water and some salt… honey too, if you have any."

"Of course." Nesta, who had been bolting the door again after the men entered, nodded and disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen.

The landlord and Nardil carried the wounded man into the next room. Without so much as a glance at her surroundings, Idonea followed them. Liecia tried to hold her back, but the other woman simply shook off her hands. Odo came over to them, looking after the small company with a worried expression on his face, before turning to Liecia.

"Her clothes are all torn," he muttered. "That is why the Ranger gave her his cloak. Would you mind to... I mean, could you—"

Liecia nodded, her brow knit in dismay. "Of course! I will fetch her something of mine. Although I doubt that she will leave Herlewin's side any time soon." With that, she quickly left the room.

Feeling useless in all the commotion, Anne asked Odo if she could help with anything, but he only shrugged; there really was not much else to be done right now. Nesta returned with the supplies Nardil had asked her to bring and went straight into the parlour. Not long after that, Dockleaf reappeared in the doorway and approached the other two men, who had been waiting by the door.

"Gamel! Come on, we have to go and tell Rathar. Osbert, bolt that door behind us, you never know if this scum might return."

Dockleaf and Gamel left, and Odo disappeared back into the parlour. The young man called Osbert hastily bolted the latch shut and then positioned himself next to the door, his nervous gaze darting between the shuttered windows. With the shaggy, dark hair that kept falling into his eyes and his red cheeks, he looked no older than sixteen.

Anne wished there was something she could do as well, to keep her mind off shadowy figures that might be creeping up to the house at this very moment. Soon, Liecia returned from upstairs and the five women started quizzing Osbert hurriedly about what had happened at the Ashgrove house.

"Who did this to him?" The woman with the small boy embraced the quiet child a little more tightly, her eyes wide and fearful. "When Master Dockleaf said, they might come back... did he mean—"

"They were already gone when we arrived," Osbert said, shaking his head. "I don't think Dockleaf and the Ranger saw them either. We only found Herlewin lying on the floor, Idonea kneeling next to him, and the room lying in ruins."

"They did not hurt her?" Liecia asked anxiously, and Anne felt like a cold hand was squeezing her entrails.

"Did she say—"

"She said nothing, but it did not seem so," Osbert muttered, looking uncomfortable. "It rather looked like they, er… went after her first, and when Herlewin tried to protect his wife, they attacked him."

"They could have violated her," the younger one of the redheads whispered, dismayed. "Are you sure—"

"We can not be sure of anything, and she probably would not tell us either way. All we know is that they left before we got there. Maybe they heard us coming."

At this point, he was interrupted by the return of the landlord, who was accompanied by Mayor Rathar and Gamel. There seemed to be a hint of grim satisfaction mingling with the outrage on the Mayor's face. After what happened, he probably felt vindicated in his intent to send people away from the town, Anne thought. And sure enough, the matter was reached within the first five minutes of the mens' arrival. Dockleaf kept insisting that a headless flight from the town would be a much greater risk.

"We do not have enough men to escort them," the landlord tried to reason, clearly becoming exasperated. "Women and small children travelling through unsafe territory… A venture like this is reckless without the necessary precaution! What of the people who don't wish to leave? Those who are too old or too young for such a journey. We have to make sure that enough men remain here to defend the town."

"I hope, you are not suggesting I would deliberately endanger the townspeople by acting negligently, Dockleaf. Have not this night's events made it clear that even in our own houses there is no safety?"

The argument went on for some time, until the door to the parlour opened and Nardil appeared, followed by Nesta and Odo; the faces of both men were very serious. Nesta's gaze was fixed on her hands, which she was wiping on her bloodstained apron.

"How is he?" Dockleaf demanded.

"He regained consciousness and it looks not as bad as we feared. The stab wounds to his neck and side worry me the most. If we can prevent infection, he should recover." Nardil paused before continuing in a dark voice. "It was them. Ashgrove says there were four. At least two of them were Men."

"The rest…?"

"One Elf. He did not get a proper look at the fourth." Nardil shook his head. "It makes no difference if you ask me. Those people are not Men or Elves anymore. What matters is this: Whatever it was that held them back until now — We must not rely on it anymore."

The following day passed in a rush of activity. It had been decided that Nardil and a group of men from Carrockton would escort those who wanted to leave for a town called Edoras the following day. Liecia was among them, and so was the red-haired girl who had been at the inn after the attack; her parents, it seemed, had insisted that she left the town ahead of them.

Anne had been unsure of what to do. When she realised that everybody seemed to assume she would leave with the group, she didn't object. Despite the dangers that might lay ahead of them, the thought of bringing some distance between herself and the forest was comforting. She had gotten used to the inn and would probably miss Nesta, Odo and even Master Dockleaf. Despite this, she did not exactly feel at home, but rather like a warily tolerated guest. There was no telling if Edoras would be different, but the way Anne saw it, she had little to lose.

The whole day she helped with the preparations for the departure; hauling crates with provisions onto carts, leading horses in from paddocks and fields, and did her best to keep herself as busy as possible. She did not have the heart to think of the future, and the past was nothing but a dark void that would occasionally nip and hiss at her mind if she let it. For now, she was content with the present.

In the early evening, Anne' arms and legs felt heavy as lead as she walked across the inn's courtyard, carrying the last pile of blankets and several water sacks towards the two long open carriages that had been wheeled in front of the building. She had just reached them when Nardil stepped out of the stables and called her name. She handed her burden to Odo, who was busy fastening the various packages and boxes on the vehicles, and then headed over to the Ranger. He motioned for her to follow him inside.

Anne had not been in here so far and looked around curiously. It smelled of dust, fresh hay and horse dung, blending with the animal's warm, oddly comforting scent. The light was dim and it was slightly cooler than outside.

Along one wall, there were stalls with half-height doors. From inside them sounded soft chewing noises and the occasional sound of hooves scraping over straw-covered ground. Odo had fed the animals shorty before, so Anne was paid little attention. Only once or twice, a pair of pricked ears or a dark, shiny eye appeared over the edge of a door as she walked past.

Nardil stood at the far end of the barn, in front of a stall door that stood ajar. Utterly mystified, Anne stepped next to him and glanced at the horse inside the stall. It was of a wiry build and looked to be a little shorter than the others Anne had seen. The deep brown of the horse's coat was broken by irregular white patches.

The animal briefly lifted its dark head from the pile of hay and cocked its ears in Anne's direction. Anne looked from the horse to Nardil, about to ask what this was about, and found him watching her with a slow smile.

"He is yours," said the Ranger. "It is a pity that he cannot talk, don't you think?"

Not quite sure what to respond to this, Anne looked back at the horse, just as it stuck out its long head towards her. She took a tentative step inside the stall and reached out with one hand; her fingertips brushed over the soft, velvety skin between the horse's nostrils before it turned its head and attention back to the hay. Anne breathed in the warm, calming smell and timidly stroked through the coarse, slightly oily hair of the mane.

"I wonder what his name is," she muttered, directed at no one in particular.

"You could choose one for him." Nardil suggested with a smile.

Anne glanced at him, before looking back at the horse, and awkwardly raised her shoulders. "I don't know. It wouldn't be fair to him, would it? Having to get used to a new name because I can't remember what it used to be?"

She patted the gelding's strong neck. "Are we going to take him with us?"

"Yes. He does not have the build for a carthorse, but he can carry luggage. I do not suppose that you want to ride yourself?" Nardil laughed at the expression on her face. "No worries, there is plenty of room on the carts." He rested his elbows on the stall door, gazing at the skewbald. "I thought it might be comforting for you to know that there will be a former companion of yours on this journey."

Anne nodded, still stroking the horse's neck. She was not certain, however, that the thought of this horse being the only link to her past was very comforting.

They set off at first light the next morning. The sky was still a pearly grey with only a faint orange line on the horizon, fading into continuously darker shades of blue. The air was brisk and fresh, carrying traces of meadow flowers. Anne made her farewells to Master Dockleaf, awkwardly thanking him for his hospitality once more. Then she bade Odo and Nesta goodbye, thanking both of them as well.

Nesta took her hand. "You shall like Edoras. Liecia's relatives live there, so you will be amongst friendly people," she said with one of her rare smiles, even though it looked a little strained.

Anne nodded, striving for a wobbly smile in return, despite her unease. She had been trying not to think too much about what might await her in Edoras. Yet there was no time for doubts or regrets; before long, she climbed onto one of the wagons and found a cramped seat between crates with provisions and a pile of rolled-up blankets. Each cart was drawn by two tall, sturdy horses that endured the orderly bustle around them with unblinking stoicism.

Anne shared her vehicle with Liecia, the young, red-haired woman, whose name Anne learned was Goda, and two girls around the age of thirteen or fourteen. In the box seat sat Dagna, a resolute and slightly matronly woman in her fifties, Anne had met while helping out in The Rolling Barrel's kitchen sometimes. The silver-haired woman now gave a sharp command; the horses pulled, and the cart slowly rolled from the courtyard, accompanied by a low, constant rumble and the creak of the wheels.

Anne turned to look at the inn one last time, and then they were through the archway and on the main road, where a third cart joined them. This time they turned right, and after the next bend, Anne could see that they were heading directly towards the forest, which loomed dark and menacing in the twilight. She shivered in the cool morning breeze, grateful for her fur-lined cloak.

"Enjoy the coolness while it lasts," Liecia said to her, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "The sun will come out soon enough, and then it shall get nice and toasty out here."

Anne raised her face to the hazy sky, admiring the other woman for the ability to keep up her good spirits. When she turned forward once more, she noticed that the forest's outermost trees suddenly appeared to be much closer.

"We are not going into the forest, are we?" she asked Liecia. The road they were on seemed to be leading right into the woods.

"No, there is a path leading south just beyond the edge of the town. It is an old road and travellers scarcely come that way these days, but it runs parallel to the Lasgalen for many miles."

After they had left the last houses behind them, Anne saw what Liecia meant. The carts turned off to the right, one after the other, and followed a narrow dirt track. Wheel ruts were still visible on the hard, cracked earth, though they were overgrown with grass and heather, and the ride became rather more bumpy for a while.

The sun rose, and the mists that hung over the meadows slowly dissolved as the three carts and seven riders made their way southwards. As Liecia had predicted, it was soon very warm, and the air became heavy and humid. Liecia told Anne that she had travelled to Rohan twice before, when her cousins had married.

"How long did it take you to get there?" Anne had been told that they would sleep under awnings for the duration of their journey, and she was not particularly looking forward to this.

"About three weeks, but there were fewer people, and we were not in a rush back then. My family can be exhausting," Liecia raised her eyebrows meaningfully as her lips twisted into a smirk. "We were a lot faster on our way back."

Around noon, they made a short stop to eat something and water the horses.

Soon, however, Nardil urged them to move on. Later, when Liecia was chatting with Goda, Anne's idly wandering gaze found the Ranger as he looked skywards with a worried expression. Grey, heavy clouds had gathered. The air was hot and smelled strongly, though not unpleasantly of dry grass and dusty earth. Hidden in the high grass on either side of the road, crickets were chirring their endless song.

"I wonder who will ride to that wood king, now that Nardil is coming with us," Anne muttered when there was a pause in the conversation around her.

Liecia followed her gaze towards the Ranger. "Forwin, I believe, Nesta's betrothed. Nesta is worried something awful, of course, but Forwin is brave and sensible. He will be all right, I am sure."

"Nesta is betrothed?" Anne asked, astonished.

"Yes, for almost a year now." The maid laughed at Anne's surprise. "She does not speak much of herself, but— Oh no, is that rain?"

Liecia held out a hand, her gaze turned to the clouds above, just when Anne felt a drop on her face as well. The drizzle soon became a steady downpour, and the women hurried to cover themselves with hooded capes and cloaks, which fortunately were not buried too deep underneath the luggage.

It was as though the rain weighed down on everybody's mood. No one seemed to feel like talking anymore as the little convoy made its way along the road, which became increasingly muddy. Steam was rising up from the horses' backs. When Anne's eyes wandered to her left, she had the disquieting impression that the forest was a lot nearer than it had been before. She confided that thought to Liecia, who nodded.

"Further to the west, the ground is marshy, the carriages would not get through there. A bit of a sinister sight in the rain, is it not?"

Anne agreed wholeheartedly. There was something else, though. Their cart was the last one in the queue; yet for the last half hour or so, Anne had felt the constant urge to turn around and look back, impelled by the strange sensation that someone was behind them. Of course, every time she did so, all she could see was the muddy road and the rain-swept meadow. She had just turned in her seat to look behind them again, when there was a sharp cry from someone at the head of the group. The cart came to an abrupt halt, and Anne almost toppled over the side railing. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the wet wood, she turned to face forward and saw that the other carts had come to a standstill as well. Nardil was riding his horse along the convoy at a slow trot until he had almost reached them. His searching gaze was fixed upon the forest.

"Why are we stopp—"

Anne's startled question trailed off when Liecia quickly held a finger to her mouth and gestured for her to be quiet, her eyes on the Ranger. The young woman's face looked pale beneath her hood.

Twisting around, Anne followed Nardil's gaze towards the trees. The forest loomed dark and silent beyond the curtain of rain, the shrouded sunlight barely reaching past the shaded trunks and dense foliage. Anne could see nothing that might have explained the Ranger's rapt attention. She leaned forward to address Liecia in a whisper, when she heard it.

A soft wailing noise, barely distinguishable above the murmur of the rain. The eerie sound rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic interval, too even to be the wind. It made Anne think of a rope being swung around and around. Her throat felt tight as she stared at the forest, trying to make something out through the downpour and the darkness beyond the trees.

Nardil had stopped his horse, still gazing at the forest, his back turned to the rest of the company. Then, abruptly, he spun around in the saddle; Anne's stomach clenched at the look of horror on his face. He was staring past the carts and riders, scanning the fields behind them. One of the other men started to speak, but Nardil silenced him with a swift movement of his hand, not taking his eyes from the rainswept pasture on the other side of the road. Despite the patter of rain, Anne had no difficulty hearing his following words — a sharp hiss in the silence.

"We are not alone."