Feedback has been good, so it looks like Averell's adventures are continuing - for the moment! - Philip
The journey back to Edoras was punishing. The horses wouldn't come within ten feet of Averell's steed, making escorting her the hundred miles back to the city a long and treacherous march. They rode through the night, their path lit by the moon and stars, and still had not reached Edoras by sunrise. The riders had begun to tire, and some of the younger men were begging for respite by the time the walls of the city appeared on the horizon.
"What do we tell them?" Wulfstan muttered to Eothed as they drove their horses gently up the slope towards the gates, with Averell and her Warg boxed inside an oblong of horsemen behind them.
"Leave the talking to me," the old man replied gruffly, geeing his horse and speeding on ahead.
Averell watched as the old man shouted up to the guardsmen in the towers above the gate, pointing back towards her. After a brief, yet heated, exchange, the gates began to creak open. Her hand ached to stretch to the sword at her hip; once those gates closed again, she might never leave. She and Eadwulf crossed the threshold of the city in silence and the gates slammed shut.
The horsemen fanned out and formed a wall of spears in front of the pair, pinning them down. Eothed cantered forward and addressed them.
"Averell, daughter of Hild of Edoras," he boomed in an officious tone, "by the laws of the land of Rohan, I am hereby placing you under arrest." Averell's blue eyes hardened, her knuckles whitening. "You will be taken to the dungeons of Meduseld, and there held until Eomer King deigns to hear you."
"What?" Averell growled through clenched teeth, her stomach turning somersaults within her.
"Is this really necessary, Sir?" Aelfling asked Wulfstan under his breath. "She is-"
"I know who you think she is," Wulfstan cut him short. "But you don't know who she really is. None of us do. What if she's an assassin, hm? Here to kill the King?" Aelfling frowned, biting his tongue.
"Relinquish your weapons and we will escort you to your cell," Eothed continued. "Do not resist and you will not be harmed."
Do not resist and you will not be harmed? Averell's lip curled in disgust. "I've heard that before." She drew her swords and spurred Eadwulf into action, the great Warg rising to his hindlegs and roaring. "Never again!" she cried.
Within a second thirty bows were primed and ready to loose a volley of enough arrows to kill them both.
"Averell, please!" Aelfling interjected, trotting his horse forward as Averell scanned the towers and walls, counting archers. She wouldn't get very far at all before they cut her own. "There's no need for this. You're a stranger to our lands – this is just our way. You have my word, you will not be harmed."
Averell's chest heaved with indignation and their eyes locked. "I will not be bound," she said after an agonising silence. "I will go, but you will not lay a hand on me. None of you."
"Of course," Eothed replied, motioning for the archers to stand down. "There's no reason to be impolite here."
Averell frowned as she sheathed her sword and dismounted Eadwulf. Aelfling advanced his horse on her, arm outstretched to collect her weapons. "I had better get them back," she grumbled.
"What shall we do with the Warg?" Wulfstan asked Eothed. "We can't keep him with the horses, he'll terrify them."
"No, he won't," Averell interjected, stroking Eadwulf's scarred muzzle. "The men, he'll terrify. The horses," she said, "he'll eat."
Eothed coughed uncomfortably. "Well, what would you suggest?"
Averell shrugged. "How big are your cells?"
The old horseman let out a bark of laughter. "You can't seriously expect us to fit a Warg in the dungeons!"
"I fit him in a cave," Averell retorted. "It's that or let him roam free. He wouldn't hurt anyone…unless they upset him. Which they would."
Eothed swore and spat on the ground. "Alright, damn you," he growled. "Escort them both to the dungeon," he ordered his men.
The presence of a Warg being led tamely through their city piqued the interest of Edoras' residents, and before long on their short journey to the dungeon the news of their arrival had outpaced them. Children peered between the legs of their parents, shielding them away from the line of horsemen that flanked Averell and Eadwulf on either side, gasping and pointing. A single growl was enough to send them scattering back to their homes amid grim chuckles from the horsemen – and Averell herself.
"None of this lot would have been much good on the road to Helm's Deep, eh?" Wulfstan said to the soldier by his side. "A whole troop of Wargs, blood-crazy and hungry for Man-flesh, each ridden by a stinking, murderous Orc!"
"Oh, don't you start," Aelfling groaned.
Reaching the dungeon took no time at all, but getting Eadwulf in proved harder than they'd anticipated. "I thought you said he'd lived in a cave?" Aelfling asked impatiently as the Warg stamped and grizzled, refusing to descend to the cells.
"It's the smell," Averell explained, holding tight to the leash around his neck, her wiry arms keeping him in check. "It's spooking him."
Wulfstan laughed mirthlessly. "What could possibly spook a Warg, I wonder?"
"The smell of death," Averell replied, looking daggers at the old man.
"Let go," Eothed told her, digging through his saddle-bag.
"What?" Averell said incredulously.
"I said, let go!" Eothed barked as he tossed something down into the dungeon. Like a hound after a scent, Eadwulf leapt after it, bounding clumsily down the tunnel. "Black pudding," Eothed said, dismounting. "I was looking forward to that, too."
The cell, it turned out, was no less spacious than Averell's cave had been. Eadwulf had taken little coaxing inside, mollified as he was with Eothed's sacrificed treat, and had immediately curled up in a corner to rest. "You won't be held long, I promise," Aelfling told her as he locked the cell door. "Eomer will want to speak with you as soon as he's able, I'm sure."
"Why would he be so interested in me?" Averell asked, studying the young soldier's face. He – indeed, the rest of the Rohirrim – were like no other Men she had seen before; fair of face and noble of bearing, they seemed a world away from the grim, menacing Wildlings that had so terrorised her and Mother. And yet, there was something unmistakably familiar about him – like she had known him in another life. He smiled, hesitating.
"It's not often we get someone from beyond our borders who isn't a Wildling," he said nervously. Silence passed between them for a beat. "Well, if you need anything-"
"Why did you ask after Mother?" Averell asked, moving to the bars. "That was you, wasn't it? I remember your voice."
The young man's mouth opened and closed dumbly, eyes darting to the door. "It really would be better to wait until Eomer King sends for you," he said, backing away. "It won't be long, I promise." He turned awkwardly on his heels and headed back up, leaving Averell and Eadwulf alone.
She sighed and turned to her Warg, his paws twitching as he dreamed peacefully. She smiled despite herself, and lay down on the straw beside him, nuzzling into his warm, furry belly. The exhaustion of her day-long ride began to weigh upon her all at once, and within minutes she was asleep, destined to dream of blonde hair.