Chapter 52
Gondor, August the 2nd, FO 4
The Easterling garments felt odd but comfortable. Dark brown trousers, a long black blouse and an oblong-shaped kerchief tied around the neck. The colours were carefully dull, but Lothíriel could see that with the right combination of dye and embroidery, a similar outfit could be easily turned into something beautifully ceremonial.
They had kept a good pace during the first part of their journey, reaching the border between Gondor and Rhûn in exactly two weeks. They rode hard, dawn till dusk, and changed horses at every occasion. Lothíriel wasn't used to spending long hours in the saddle and the first days, her body had been utterly wrecked by the intense journey. The corporal aches had been at least balanced by the fact that, upon leaving Edoras, she had felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest: being out in the open, for once not in charge but simply a follower to what others chose, had felt good.
As soon as they had crossed the Mering Stream however, the tightness had returned. And with it, the guilt. Yes, she had needed to leave. But the price she had had to pay was abandoning her country and choosing to be voluntarily separated from her son – again.
On the morrow they'd enter Rhûn and from there, their journey would take them further East for another four to five days. If they encountered locals, she'd pose as the Gondorian wife of one of the Easterlings travelling with them, visiting her husband's land together with her two older brothers, her sister and her husband. She hoped they wouldn't need to play the farce, that if they crossed anyone it would be from a distance and then they could simply pass for a group of Easterlings travelling across the plains. They might not be so lucky though: one of the tribes, the one led by the same Umrist who had sat at the negotiation table with Marshall Elfhelm and King Elessar, had set camp not far from the site of the landslide and it was likely they'd stumble into some of his people.
That evening, Lothíriel joined the rest of the group around the fire and ate her portion of rabbit stew. It tasted bland, which meant either the Gondorians or the Easterlings had cooked it – whenever Háca took care of the food, he somehow always managed to give it a twist. King Elessar's men retired early, leaving her in the company of the two Rohirrim. Her eyes had yet to get used to their dark appearance and Lothíriel dearly hoped the dye they had used colour hair and eyebrows would quickly wash away once their journey was over. It did not compliment them at all. They were both so handsomely Rohirric in appearance - tall and blond with deep blue eyes, that it was an affront to see them sporting raven hair.
Throughout the entire journey Aldwyn and Háca had been extremely discreet, so much she couldn't even remember one single instance in which she had witnessed them displaying affection, not even something as innocent as holding hands. She knew they were acting so to avoid upsetting her, and she appreciated it. It was hideous of her to say but back in Edoras, the mere sight of Amrothos and Ealith walking arm in arm was enough to send her into a state of sadness and anger that she ultimately moulded into cold indifference because what else could she do?
Watching Háca stitching one of his tunics, Lothíriel reckoned he was doing a far better job than what she and Aldwyn combined would be capable of. All riders could mend their clothes and fix a meal, but she could see that for him those skills originated from a different place, from the need to look after himself when nobody else would. The fact that for so many years the crown had been blind to what was happening in the Hornburg orphanage, was to her simply unforgivable. "Wídgel and Balmod died years ago. Fulthain, Holddig and Léogel still live and their days as free men are over", she told him.
Háca's body stiffed, his wide eyes locked with hers.
"I cannot change the past, but I can ensure justice is delivered. Your former wardens have all been arrested. A cramped cell in the lowest level of the Hornburg's dungeon is where they'll spend the rest of their lives. All orphanages across Rohan have been put under direct tutelage of either the Marshalls or myself directly. What you had to suffer, no other child ever will, I give you my word".
He kept staring at her, as still as a stone, the fire casting waves of flickering shadows over him.
"I… we had no idea", Aldwyn spoke for him.
"Nobody does, except myself and the Marshalls".
Háca put away needle and thread and stood, "Forgive me, your Grace, but I'd rather not talk about it".
"As Queen of Rohan and on behalf of my predecessors, I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness, surely not you. I just thought you should know".
He nodded and excused himself, leaving behind a troubled Aldwyn.
"You should go to him", Lothíriel suggested.
"No, I think he needs a moment. Please do not take his reaction as a sign of ungratefulness, your Grace. This is a topic that is difficult for him to address in presence of other people".
"Of course, I understand".
"He's ashamed of the secrets he kept, you know. Tortures himself thinking of the harm it might have caused not only to us as a couple, but to Rohan".
"I can hardly boast the high moral ground. My first months in Rohan after marrying the King, I kept so many things for myself, blamed on him everything that was wrong with my life. Unwittingly, I too almost caused terrible harm to our country. Háca couldn't foresee Wídca's actions, couldn't know he'd try to use his father. The only person he ought to ask forgiveness to, is you. But that's a done thing already, is it not?".
"It is, your Grace", Aldwyn said, timidly almost.
"You should stop calling me that. Tomorrow we enter Rhûn and I shall be Sílriel, wife of an Easterling refugee who settled in Gondor after the War of the Ring".
"And I your sister Myldes", Aldwyn confirmed, "I must say, these Rhûn garments aren't too bad".
"Better than Gondorian ones?".
"If we are talking about ladies, comfort and riding, then I'm afraid I'll have to answer with a yes. Though nothing can quite beat a Rohirric riding attire, of course".
"No, I imagine not".
"Perhaps I'm stepping out of line saying so, but I think coming here was the right thing to do. You have ensured all necessary precautions were taken and no one in his right mind should be allowed to call this journey a…".
"A folly? The selfish act of a grieving woman?", she chuckled bitterly.
Aldwyn scooted a little closer. "After the siege, Háca proposed we leave together to visit faraway places", she revealed, "I turned him down because I felt Rohan needed us. Leaving on a whim would have been selfish indeed, the fancy of someone whose means are so plentiful they can afford to treat themselves to the luxury of a prolonged holiday whenever they so wish. But this is not a whim nor a leisure trip, your Grace".
Lothíriel wasn't so sure anymore. She knew she needed to find a way to sort her emotions, that she couldn't keep them suppressed indefinitely for one day they'd eventually overpower her. At first, she had thought crushing the rebellion and being reunited with her son would enable her to do that. Then, when the siege had ended and she had discovered her love for Elfwine was just as fettered as everything else within her, she had shifted her hopes to Éomer's funeral. But as she stood in front of his tomb, she hadn't shed a single tear - just like she hadn't the many nights she had secretly visited their son's grave. Often her thoughts wandered to Lady Thédowyn. Was this how she had felt after Eomund's death? It scared her that while a part of her was horrified by the thought she might be following in her footsteps and rebelled against it in a visceral way, the other was indifferent, resigned almost. She was at the end of her rope, so much so that even something as drastic as embarking on a two months' journey into enemy land had seemed like a perfectly reasonable option.
But if this also didn't work, what then?
"Are you all right?".
Háca lifted his head from the cot. Then, with a guttural sigh, he let it sink back. "I'm sorry I left that way. I'm not comfortable talking about my childhood".
"The Queen understands, don't worry. I know your feelings are much more complex than mine, but I'm happy she prosecuted the wardens". It had always bothered Aldwyn that they had gotten away with it. Shortly before the War of the Ring, Prince Théodred had ordered the construction of a new orphanage at the Hornburg. Perhaps afraid that with the closer involvement of the King's son the abuses they had perpetrated might have been uncovered, the former wardens had all resigned in quick succession. Háca had once confessed it was the only reason he hadn't taken their lives: two years after leaving the orhpanage he had returned, determined to seek a bloodied form of justice, only to find his tormentors gone. Two had opened an inn in a nearby village, another sought employment in the mines, two worked as bouncers for various seedy establishments. None of them worked with children anymore and Háca gave up pursuing personal justice. She was glad for it, for she didn't think dirtying his hands with the blood of those villains would have done him any good. Aldwyn had often entertained the idea of ensuring they'd be prosecuted for their crimes, but after so many years the only evidence she could provide was the testimony of their victims, which would have been painful to obtain and perhaps not enough anyway. The Queen must have enforced justice the hard way. In fact, she doubted there had been a proper trial at all. Someone might call it the act of a tyrant but, after the events of the past months - the vile machinations, the betrayals, the civil war, Aldwyn was inclined to call it a much-needed clean sweep of all forms of dirt.
"I'm glad too. She'll rule with an iron fist, won't she?", asked Háca.
"Perhaps it's what Rohan needs".
"Perhaps. I just prefer the way she used to be. Sometimes she gives me the chills".
"How can you say such thing?", Aldwyn hissed outraged, "She's been nothing but fair and prosecuted only those who deserved it. You can't very well expect her to be all smiles and soft words after she lost the King!".
"Come now, that's not what I meant and you know it. I have nothing but admiration for her. If Éomer King were here, he'd be damned impressed with the way she's handled things but also, I think, damned worried. Something about her brings me back in time to when she first arrived in Aldburg - and you know very well that those were far from happy times for her".
Aldwyn huffed in frustration. It was an opinion many shared - once she had even overheard Éothain speaking about it with Amrothos. Half of her wanted to throttle them, because the death of her husband alone would have been plenty to justify the Queen's state of mind. The other half knew there were losses she had suffered they were not aware of, and therefore urged her to be understanding of their point of view, as faulty as it was. "It's why we are here, are we not?", she tried to defend the Queen, "So that she may find closure and heal".
"I always thought her choice to travel to Rhûn perfectly understandable, never comprehended why some in her family made such a fuss. Bema, I think I myself need closure and I was here, scouted the land for days on end in search of the King!".
"They were just concerned", she said lamely. Truth was, Aldwyn had viscerally detested Erchirion and Éowyn's reaction, and especially the subtle hints that a good mother and a responsible monarch would never have thought of embarking on such journey in the first place.
"Let's look at the bright side", Háca attempted steering them towards more cheerful topics, "We're at least getting a taste of travelling".
"That is true. I know it's not exactly what you had in mind…".
"It will do for the time being. And well, it may be hard for us to appreciate it given the circumstances of our visit, but I think there's beauty in Rhûn too".
"There is?".
"Why, of course! It's a landscape unlike anything you've ever seen".
"That stone you brought me looks very pretty indeed".
"Maybe we'll find you better one". Háca stretched out an arm and she happily joined him on the cot they shared every night, her head resting on his shoulder. An early wake up awaited them the next day and sleep did not take long to come.
Rhûn, August the 7th, FO 4
It took them five days to reach the site where the battle had taken place. The tension upon crossing the border into Rhûn had been palpable at first, especially because they had encountered numerous travellers. But they blended well and the rare times words had been exchanged, Lothíriel had let their Easterlings companions take the lead, the backstory they provided always the same, and did her best to look subdued and play the part of the obedient wife. Their pace remained brisk, not only for safety reasons but also because the scorching sun was making their journey an atrocious experience. On one occasion Aldwyn had removed her shawl for a few hours and remedied a burn where her hair parted, which had caused her next colouring session to tur into a painful ordeal.
It was around noon when Sedgon informed them they'd be at destination within a couple of hours and for the rest of the journey, they travelled in taut silence. After they arrived, Lothíriel asked the area to be scouted and once it was confirmed safe, she issued a stern order that she wanted to be left alone and set off on her own.
She approached the site slowly.
On her left were steep rock walls dotted with caverns, many of the mouths stained black were the smoke had poured out. The plateau itself was perfectly flat. Had she not known otherwise, she'd have never guessed it suddenly dropped into the river below. Halfway through, Lothíriel halted her horse and dismounted. It looked like the talons of a giant beast had dug into the earth, tearing away at the stone, leaving behind deep claw marks and giant displaced boulders. Shrubs were already sprouting through the cracks, mother nature not really caring for humans' tribulations and already set to work. Lothíriel dared not stepping on the debris, for she felt it would have been disrespectful to climb atop the final resting place of so many of her people. Because that's what that was, wasn't it? Many bodies had been retrieved in the aftermath of the disastrous landslide, but many more remained trapped under layers of stone too hard and too deep to be removed. Rationally, she couldn't exclude Éomer was there too - Éothain had found his sword not far from where she currently stood, the crushed body of his horse lying next to it. Yet she somehow knew he had not been so lucky as to find a tomb of some sort under the displaced earth.
Her heart picked up its pace as she followed the scars towards the edge of the plateau. Here and there she noticed carvings in the stone. Some written in Rohirric, others in the language of Rhûn - names of those who had lost their life that fateful day. Her palms were sweaty, her knees buckled. Far below her, the river run harmless, the water murky but calm. It had looked quite different months earlier, she knew, when its rowdy churning waters had swallowed dead and living alike.
Her breath came in short chocking gasps.
So this was where it all ended, the place where the man in whose arms she had found love and happiness and a home, had been taken away from her. What did closure feel like? Should she cry? Should she feel angry? If so, then this trip had been a colossal mistake because all she felt was pain. All-encompassing and raw, the kind that makes you want to pass out but then the healer tells you must stay awake and so you brace yourself, put on a brave face and wait for it to get better.
Except maybe it never would and she'd have to learn to coexist with it.
Lothíriel pulled a leather cloth from her pocket. It was the very same she had used years past to honour Théoden King's temporary resting place in Minas Tirith. It had been spring back then, the Barrowfield was covered with Simbelmynë. This time, she had left Rohan well after the peak of their blooming season and only managed to collect a handful of small half-withered flowers. She held out her hand over the abyss, afraid to let go. By contrast, her voice sounded strangely calm. "Farewell, my love. One day, we shall meet again".
One by one she uncurled her fingers and observed the Simbelmynë glide away, a gentle breeze carrying them down towards the river.
Later that day, she returned to the camp her travelling companions had set up for the night and went straight for her tent. She did not speak a single word, she did not eat nor drink. She could not sleep either and as she lied awake in her cot, she numbed the pain the only way she knew, burying the grief deep within while her mind shifted focus towards what was expected of her as sole ruler of Rohan for the next thirteen years. Cold pragmatism took over, the sorrow shrunk until it became a distant pulse she could ignore.
After returning to Gondor, she'd of course pay a visit to the wounded Rohirrim and assure them they were to receive the full support of the crown in their long recovery. Once in Rohan, she'd have to decide what to do with the prisoners. King Elessar had already agreed to take charge of the Gondorians among the mercenaries. Lords and commanders of the rebel army were going to pay with a life sentence. But what of their friends and families who had not taken arms themselves, but had anyway supported and aided Wídca? What of the many common soldiers? It wasn't realistic to keep hundreds of people in the dungeons for the next decades. They all needed to pay, but some had to be given a second chance. Not a blind one though and Lothíriel was quickly coming to the conclusion the best course of action was to nominate Haleth to a kind of long-term supervising role. That left only Léored as candidate to take over Wolford, something he might not like but, she was sure, he'd succeed at bringing the city back in line. As for the families of the traitorous councillors, she was inclined to let them go, provided they publicly admitted their faults and accepted being stripped of titles and wealth. Once that was taken care of, she could start focusing on her plan to build outposts across Rohan. The construction itself would have to wait until next spring, but that itself wasn't an issue as it gave her time to study the maps and recruit the men.
Then she'd have to look into their supplies for next winter. Discuss with Ealith, the stablemaster and representatives from the Eastemnet about their horses, for they had lost many in the war. Not to mention, she'd need to travel to Dunland at some point. She was determined to keep her inner circle as small as possible and with Haleth and Léored already assigned to cumbersome tasks, she'd need Aldwyn to stay by her side and she had plans for Háca too. Trading headaches also awaited, not to mention dealing with levies, court matters, justice…
Revisiting the place where so many of his countrymen had died proved a panful experience, but one Háca was glad he had shared with his wife. He had always known it was no one's fault the earth beneath their feet had given in, but witnessing the scale of the natural disaster with clearer, more impartial eyes, did bring him some unexpected peace.
He wasn't sure it had had any effect on the Queen though, for she seemed just as detached as before - if not worse.
Their party needed to re-stock their provisions in preparation for the journey back and so it was decided they'd stop at the camp set up by Umrist's tribe. While the Easterlings set off to purchase what they needed, Háca tended to their horses and fixed the broken strap of one of Aldwyn's stirrup. He was testing the harness when someone materialized beside him and casually started brushing his horse. He turned sharply towards the stranger, unsure what to do or say, his senses alert.
"You are a Rohirrim", the other man spoke in the common language.
"Gondor. My sister-in-law is married to one of your people", he recited his part, hoping his accent wouldn't leak through.
"You can colour your hair all you want, but there's no hiding what grows on your face nor the colour of your eyes. I have seen enough Rohirrim in the last weeks and you are one of them, not a Gondorian".
Háca pondered what to do. It seemed pointless to keep denying - his dark blue eyes were indeed a flashing hint that he hailed from the land of the Horselords and despite he shaved every morning, he was the kind of man who grew a five 'o'clock shadow by noon everyday. As long as he kept his distance it was hard to notice, but this stranger had been observant enough to see it. "We don't want problems. My wife and I are just accompanying her sister…", he stopped mid-sentence, the man's words suddenly sinking in, "what do you mean you've seen enough Rohirrim in the past weeks?".
"Prisoners".
"They were released as part of the peace agreement between our peoples".
"Not all. Some were hidden away. Umrist does not know, I think. There were twenty-two of them. Four died – Frumheort, Léod, other names I don't know. One man named Eorl might have been killed when I escaped".
"Why should I believe you?".
"I don't give a damn whether you believe me or not. I'm only telling you because I'd like to see Gorgan dealt with. And also, because Eorl worked like a charm at distracting the guards when I escaped and so, I suppose, I owe him some. What you choose to do with the piece of information I just shared, does not concern me".
"You claim Umrist does not know. Then why didn't you inform him rather than waiting until you stumbled into a Rohir?".
"Because I care for my freedom far more than I care for the prisoners I left behind. Six years ago, I tried to steal from Gorgan. I was caught and imprisoned. When he decided to build a quarry, I was sent to forced labour. I have spent six years in chains, don't even know where my family is, whether they are still alive. I managed to re-gain my freedom and I'm not going to risk it by approaching the chieftain. In all likelihood he wouldn't even receive me. And Gorgan is an intelligent man, he may have moles buzzing around Umrist. Why should I endanger what I have just managed to seize?".
Háca gazed upon the other man, trying to discern truth from falsehood. What interest did he have in lying? What may he be aiming at?
The stranger surprised him then with a last attempt to dissipate his doubts, "There was a lad called Léod, he once told me he was the King's squire".
"Describe him", he demanded stiffly.
"Shorter than you - five inches at least, grew beard like a pup, had a burning mark on his right hand".
Háca felt his guts falling out from under him. They used to tease Léod for his uneven facial hair. And the scar on his hand was oddly specific, a burned patch right in the middle of his palm from when he had accidentally gotten his cloak on fire and then tried to douse the flames with his naked hand. "Earlier you said he has died?".
"Aye".
"How?".
"He and the one named Eorl got flogged for cheating in the arena. Their wounds festered. Happened about two months ago, I think".
It was a unique form of cruelty to be told someone you had known for many years and mourned, had been alive until not long ago. Háca tried to focus on dissecting the stranger's words. "Why did they cheat? And what's this arena for?".
"You dumb? What do you think it is for? Fighting. Gorgan has a tournament planned, he will force your people to butcher each other. Not sure how Léod and Eorl managed to cheat, but they paid dearly for their treachery".
Háca appealed to all the self-control he possessed to keep from blowing up. "What kind of depraved sick bastard does such thing?".
"One who has no qualms using children as workers in his quarry. One who disposes of them at will".
"How can your people tolerate…".
"Watch your mouth, Rohir", the stranger spat with vehemence, "Few know about the quarry's existence and even less about how it's run".
"How do we find it?".
"South-east, a week's ride from here, five miles north of the nearest permanent encampment - Yöltud's the name. The whole place is well guarded, you won't be able to simply stroll in if that is what you are planning".
"How would you advice we approach it?".
"Don't know, don't care. I've done my part. It's up to you now. But may your people be cursed for all eternity if you force our folks to pay for the actions of one man", the stranger warned. He dropped the brush and turned, managed all but one step before Háca had his arm held in an iron grip. Despite the difference in height, there wasn't an ounce of fear in his fiery glare, "Let go of me or I'll make sure every last soul in this camp know you are a Rohir. Do you know how many around here have lost someone at your people's hand? Think you and your travelling companions will make it out alive?".
Háca instantly released him. A moment later, the mysterious stranger had vanished in the maze of tents.
Lothíriel showed no outward sign of the rage blazing inside her. Had she had an army with her, she'd have ordered the entire camp razed to the ground.
It would not be right, she had to remind herself. There were women and children there. We don't do this kind of things.
Aldwyn stood as still as a stone, Háca appeared calm save for the fact his right hand was curled in a trembling fist at his side. Their Easterling companions looked torn between incredulity and fear, the Gondorians advised caution. "We don't know whether what this man says is true. He didn't even give us his name".
"Would you like me to return to Rohan and pretend none of this has never happened? Ignore the fact eighteen of my people might be kept prisoners, instruments to satisfy the debauchery of one of the men who caused the war in the first place?".
"No, of course not. I'd just like to advise against taking hasty decisions and…".
"Thank you for your valuable contribution", Lothíriel cut him off, her tone both sarcastic and authoritative at the same time, "Before making any move, we need to be certain. We know Umrist is nearby, but I can't approach him to make accusations I cannot corroborate in any way. This Yöltud settlement, is any of you familiar with it?".
Sedgon shook his head, "In name only. But if it's true there's a quarry inside which Gorgan keeps prisoners of war and child workers, then I have no doubts it will be well guarded indeed. With all due respect, taking you anywhere around his turf would be a far too greater risk. It is no secret Gorgan advocated against the peace treaty, he and his men will not take kindly to any westerner trespassing their borders".
"I understand. This journey has already been fraught with perils as it is, for me to venture further East would be unwise. Yet we need a way in, somehow".
Háca cleared his voice. His eyes were set on his wife, apologetic. "There is only one that will grant us easy access to the quarry, and that is if we had a valuable prisoner to sell".
"No!", Aldwyn shouted.
He kissed her hand and pulled her to him, "I'm sorry but we have no choice", he spoke gravely, "I will stop colouring my hair, within a week it should become clear they are not really black. And as the stranger who approached me rightfully said, it is anyway hard for me to hide my heritage once examined from up-close. Sedgon and I can travel as captor and captive to the quarry, where he will try selling me. If what we learned about Gorgan is true, I'd wager I should be worth a decent sum.".
"You would be taken and…".
"I would be taken and in exchange we'd obtain proof for the Queen to approach Umrist and demand our release. I'd be able to give the prisoners hope, assure them help is on the way".
Aldwyn looked at her, teary eyes imploring her to reject Háca's plan. But she didn't have much of a choice, did she? In an ideal world, they'd travel back to Gondor, appoint a delegation of diplomats and arrange an official meeting with Umrist in which they'd demand to visit the quarry to ascertain the truth. But that would take weeks if not months and by then, how many of the prisoners would be dead already? "It is a good plan, but a dangerous one. I will not force you to take part in it, nor will I hold it against you should you now decide to change your mind. Are you sure, Háca?".
"I am".
Lothíriel switched to Rohirric, so to keep the conversation private. "Are you doing this because you think you have something to prove? Because you feel you must somehow offset Fastfa's betrayal? If it is so, then you must know I do not hold you accountable for anything that has happened".
Háca's jaw clenched, the next words he spoke with an effort, like it always was whenever they approached that topic. "I feel the burden of my lies, but that is not why I am volunteering for this mission. Those eighteen men are my brothers. I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror again knowing I left them to die". In his arms, Aldwyn had come to terms with it and no longer asked he changed his mind. She just held him, eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out.
How many times had she felt the same, done the exact same thing with Éomer? At the eve of a battle, or a dangerous patrol. How many times had she quieted the urge to beg him not to leave her and tried to focus on the here and now, to savour those last moments of intimacy before the unknown descended upon them? It flooded Lothíriel with bitterness and sadness, the pain she'd never experience those feelings again was like a dull thud in her ears. "Thank you, Háca", she just said and bowed her head as a mark of gratitude. Switching back to the common language, she asked, "Sedgon, will you help us and bring Háca to the quarry?".
"Of course".
"Do you think our plan will work?".
"It may".
"Yöltud's really a week's ride from here?".
"If we purchase fresh horses, we can push them and make it in five or six days, plus another week for me to return".
"A fortnight then. What about Umrist? Do we expect him and his clan to remain in this area?".
"I think so. He's supervising things at the border and this is as close as he dares to bring his people. I advise you set your own camp nearby".
It was a sensible plan and Lothíriel knew she'd need those two weeks to decide how to approach Umrist. Both King Elessar and Marshall Elfhelm had deemed him trustworthy, but even if the rumours about Gorgan proved true, she couldn't simply march into his tent and declare who she was and what she wanted. The risks were too great. They'd need to isolate him somehow - no matter how much it would outrage him, and then she'd need something to tame his anger and make sure he kept his word about the release of her people.
Lothíriel gave Sedgon a small pouch. "Will it be enough to get the horses?".
"Yes".
"Go then. You shall leave at dawn".
Aldwyn followed him inside their tent, head hung low and eyes fixed on the ground. "I will be all right".
"You are willingly entering the lion's den".
"Would you rather I stay and do nothing?".
"No", she sighed, "doesn't mean I have to be pleased though".
Háca filled a bucket with cold water and washed vigorously his hair with abundant soap. They were still black when he looked in the mirror afterwards, but here and there he thought he detected the most subtle hint of a lighter tone. From the ring finger of his left hand he removed the golden band he and Aldwyn had exchanged when pronounced man and wife. It was a simple jewel, he had chosen it because he wasn't used to wearing one and anything larger he feared would have hindered him when handling weapon and shield. He had wanted something he'd never have to take off, not even once. But he wasn't going to wear the ring to the quarry. They'd for sure take it and that, he could not accept. "Will you hold it until I have returned?", he asked his wife.
She handled it like it was made of crystal and could break at any time. "I would come with you".
"I know. You can hold your own against any man on the battlefield, but as a prisoner you wouldn't be treated nearly as kindly. For once let me play the overbearing male and tell you I won't allow you anywhere near that quarry".
"For once let me listen to what the male says". She stepped into his arms and let him hold her. "What you are volunteering for, there aren't many who'd have the courage to do".
"Not true. I know the rebellion has been a sobering experience, but you shouldn't let it ruin completely the trust you once had in the Rohirrim. I can think of many who in my place would do the same".
She sniffled, her hands reaching for his tunic, slowly working each button. Háca sensed her need to be in charge and accommodated her. Clothes pooled at their feet. He stretched over the cot and helped her settle on top. It was a slow burn, the pleasure building one tiny spark at a time, his senses keenly aware and focused. Every inch of skin she touched came alive and it wasn't long before Háca felt his grip loosening, his control slipping. He was no stranger to it but this time, he felt utterly powerless as it swept him higher and then higher still, the peak never quite coming, like it was firmly lodged somewhere just out of his reach. It started with a prickle, a tingling at the base of his spine, so subtle it barely registered. Without warning it burst, setting ablaze every nerve in his body, from the root of his hair to the toes in his feet everything became a white searing pleasure. When he came back, the tent was filled with naught but the sound of their laboured breath. His arms were tightly wrapped around his wife's hips, their bodies slick with sweat. Even as realization dawned on him, he was still too dazed to react with the shock he had expected.
All the times they had made love. All the times he had been intimate with other women before meeting her. Never, not even once had he allowed it to happen. "I'm sorry, Aldwyn. I didn't mean to…".
"Don't say it, I beg you".
They hardly moved the entire night, Aldwyn sleeping crouched on top of him, her weight the most pleasant burden to bear. When the sky outside tinged with first light, he rolled her on her back and slowly dressed. She was instantly awake, he noticed, her eyes quietly following his movements. Once ready, Háca kneeled by the cot and kissed her, "I must go".
She made for rising but he held her down.
"I want to see you off", she protested.
"It would only make you sadder, and I don't want that. Stay here, sleep a little longer. Be watchful while I'm away, look after the Queen and don't forget to care for yourself too. I love you, Aldwyn. I promise I will find my way back to you".
A bold thing to say and a promise someone his age should know better than to make, but he told it nonetheless.
For the next five days he and Sedgon made good use of the fresh mounts he had purchased. The landscape around them was astonishingly monotonous, endless plains turned barren by the unforgiving heat. In winter, he knew, the weather could be bitter cold, and even now that they were at the peak of summer, temperatures could be scorching at day and then plummet to freezing at night.
Rhûn truly was a land of extremes.
A watchtower in the distance was the harbinger they had been waiting for. Sprawled around a lake was the camp the local folks referred to as Yöltud. Three dozen tents, a few ox roaming around, some chickens. Hills extended to the north and there, somewhere, eighteen of his fellow riders awaited salvation.
That evening, Háca approached Sedgon and demanded, "Hit me".
"Sure?", the Easterling asked, more out of the courtesy because it was clear it wouldn't be credible to deliver someone you have kept prisoners for months and reveal you hadn't given him a single scratch.
Háca clasped his hands behind his back and willed his body to remain still. "Yes".
The first three punches landed on his face, the next five barrelled on his abdomen and chest area, a kick cut his legs from beneath him. Háca coughed up blood as he got back on his feet, the pain easily tolerable. It was hard to believe but despite all the battles he had taken part in, he had never been seriously injured. A small cut here and a bruise there, perhaps. Nothing more. The beatings he had gotten at the orphanage were by far the ones that had inflicted the greatest pain and Sedgon could try all he wanted, his blows would never compare.
"You all right?".
"I've had worse. How do I look?".
"Hideous".
"Good. Now give me those cuffs". For the next hours and then throughout the entire night, Háca pulled at them relentlessly, until the skin on his wrists broke and started bleeding. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he barely drunk. When they finally determined the exact location of the quarry, two days later, he looked as drained and beaten as the situation demanded. Sedgon fixed a chain connecting the manacles at his wrists with those at the ankles, another he tied to his horse. They entered the quarry premises like that, the Easterling riding his horse, he trailing behind like a dog on the leash. It took perhaps five minutes for two guards to approach them and although Háca couldn't understand what they were saying, he heard the word Rohirrim thrown around and saw their interest was instantly piqued. They stepped closer and pulled sharply at his hair, scrutinized several days' worth of blond beard growing on his cheeks. He passed their test and soon they were following them deeper into Gorgan's territory. Just as they crested the next hill, the quarry suddenly materialized in front of them. A burly man signalled to come closer. He and Sedgon spoke fast. Finally, King Elessar's spy turned towards him and smiled cruelly, "I told you you'd be in good company here, didn't I? Don't worry, I'll be back in two weeks for the tournament and bet some on you. I saw the fight you put up the day I captured you. You'll do well and my pockets will be thankful for it".
The confirmation that everything they suspected was true caused Háca a moment of unexpected dismay. He tried to hit Sedgon because it seemed the right thing to do, but was immediately forced on his knees and kicked brutally. He watched him depart and let his captors load him on a sort of platform connected to a crane. The ascent was slow, the whole device shaking like it might crumble at any moment, so much Háca almost sighed in relief when they made it to the highest level. There he was taken inside a tunnel, deeper into the earth until they reached a block of cells. He was unshackled and hurled into one, tripped and fell, almost landed on his face.
The guards left, their snickering laughter ricocheting off the walls.
Steps approached and as Háca looked up at his cell mate, his first reaction was to doubt his sanity. He tried to stand but either the recent beatings had done more damage than he had initially thought, or so great was the shock that his knees just wouldn't cooperate.
"Not you as well", the King muttered ruefully. He helped him to his feet and Háca couldn't help but embrace him.
"How can this be? We searched for you, scouted the riverbanks for days!".
"The river dragged me downstream. I lost consciousness and when I came back, I was severely injured and held prisoner by an old couple. I was sold and then sold again, until I finally arrived here. That was… I don't know anymore. What day is today?".
"August the seventeenth".
"Almost three months then. I had hoped I'd be the last to be taken here, that I wouldn't have to see any more of my men enslaved… but what happened to you? You said you looked for me, were you captured in a later battle?".
Tears almost spilled from Háca's eyes. "I was never captured. By the gods, I returned to Edoras and carried your coffin on my shoulders! The Queen…", the words hurled out of his mouth at full tilt, there was so much he needed to say! "She wanted to visit the place where you had fallen and so we travelled back to Rhûn and while…".
Háca never finished the sentence. All air was forcefully expelled from his lungs when the King slammed him into the wall. He held him by the collar of his tunic, his toes only barely able to scrape the floor. "You brought her to Rhûn?", he growled and there was something feral in his eyes, something that terrified Háca. Even so, he found himself chuckling at his next question, "How could you allow it?".
"No one allows the Queen to do or not do anything. After what happened in Edoras, she could have asked us to escort her to the moon and we'd have started building an airship".
"What does that mean? Wídca! Do you know of his whereabouts? He's a traitor and…".
"Léored killed him, Elfda put his head on a spike at the city gates, stayed there for a good couple of hours before the Queen saw it and ordered it taken down". The King's grip loosened, Háca's feet returned to the ground. "How do you know about Wídca? We only found out after the Queen sent word of the rebellion…".
"Wídca's son is the reason I'm here. After the landslide, Korul tried to save me. Balca killed him and cut the rope on which I was hanging. Imagine my surprise when I arrived here and discovered he was an inmate too".
Háca glanced at the nearby cells. He spotted several Rohirrim, but none was Balca. "Where is he now?".
"Dead. I killed him in a fight last month". He then gestured to a filthy cot and sat, "I want you to tell me everything. Start with my wife and my son, I beg you. Are they well?".
Háca took his first real look at him. He had lost weight, though not as much as one might expect after months of imprisonments and forced labour. There was a scar crossing over his right shoulder and disappearing behind his back. Two toes were missing from his left foot. His beard was long and matted, his eyes haunted. He glanced again at the other prisoners and thought they all looked dreadfully alike, as if captivity was slowly stripping them of everything that made them their own persons and turning them into empty shells. "They are, Lord. Elfwine is in Edoras. Your sister Lady Éowyn, Prince Imrahil, Amrothos and Erchirion are with him. The Queen has set camp in a valley not far from the place where we thought you had fallen. With her are two Easterling spies, two of King Elessar's commanders and Aldwyn".
"She came to Rhûn with only a handful of people as escort?".
"We travelled under cover, it was deemed safer that way".
"That the reason why your hair is black?".
"Aye. Aldwyn coloured hers too".
"And you visited the battlefield?".
"We did. It's looks so peaceful today, it's hard to believe what happened there only months ago. The Queen bid you farewell, or at least she tried. I don't know whether she succeeded. You see, while you were kept in here, starved and forced to fight one another, the people of Edoras faced a horrifically similar fate. It's left its mark on all who lived through it, I fear".
"Tell me what happened – in details".
"After she received news of your passing, the Queen locked herself away in the Royal Apartments together with Elfwine, mourning you like any spouse would. Amrothos was the only one she allowed in. Wídca was waiting for it and planned to have the Council declare her unfit to rule. He needed a unanimous vote to do so, which he knew was unattainable because of Haleth's loyalty to the crown. His plan was to resort to something called a leaders' vote to oust the Queen. Marshall Elfhelm's presence – along that of many others, would be required, which meant the vote would be stalled for several months, until the end of the campaign in the East. However, the leaders' vote was naught but a red herring: Wídca's true intent was to remove Prince Elfwine from the Queen's care under the pretense a precautionary measure was made necessary by her grieving state. He'd then force her to abdicate and take the throne for himself". Háca continued talking for the King was visibly shaking with rage and the sooner he got to the end of it, the better. "To do so, Wídca needed the majority of the Council on his side. What he could not know, was that Léored worked for the crown. The Queen was informed. She had Théocanstan, Beyrith and Prince Elfwine flee Edoras under the cover of darkness and instructed them to travel to Ithilien - which they safely did. The next day, with the Prince out of harm's way, she forced Wídca to backtrack and then proceeded to dissolve the Council for good".
Someone in the next cell sniggered. "Serve them right. Would have loved to be a fly on the wall and see Wídca's face…".
"Did she have them arrested?", asked the King.
"No. She feared it would antagonize too many powerful families at once, at a time when she did not have enough men to keep them at bay. It did work in the sense that most of the councillors gave up on their ambitions, with the exception of three of them".
"Let me guess. Wídca, Dernwine and Elfere".
"Yes".
The King's fist slammed hard against the ground of their cell. "Should have dealt with them a long time ago".
Háca knew better than saying things such as you could not have known - it would only fuel his liege's rage. Instead, he continued his tale, "The traitors gathered four hundred men in the woods north of Wolford, along the banks of the Isen. Sure enough, a few days later Mata barged into the Hornburg demanding an explanation. She followed Marshall Erkenbrand to Edoras, where he argued the best tactic was to ambush the enemy, take advantage of the fact they had discovered its hideout. The Queen rejected his plan fearing Wídca was trying to lure her into emptying Edoras of the few soldiers she had. She reached an agreement with Mata that would preserve peace with the Dunlendings, spread word of Wídca's treason and waited". Háca carefully avoided mentioning the Queen had also discovered a mole in Edoras and was cunningly using it to her own advantage. One day he'd have to confess to the King about his father and hope he was going to be as understanding as his consort, but not today and not in front of so many other people. "About a week later, an army of six hundred mercenaries was discovered in a valley a day's ride from Hadleigh. She did order an ambush then, one of fire and blood. Twenty men we lost and some of the mercenaries managed to flee, but it was nonetheless a hard blow she dealt Wídca".
In the opposite cell, a man stepped forward, both hands gripping the iron bars. "My brother serves in the city guard, Hágrim's his name. Is he among the fallen?".
"I don't know. I'm sorry", Háca apologized, words always feeling inadequate in such circumstances. "Wídca regrouped his men and marched on Edoras. On the way he suffered considerable losses at the hands of the Westfold farmers. He could not take the capital by force, so he laid siege".
Someone gasped. The King held his head in his hands. "Our stocks…".
"Yes. We were running low on food provisions. Wídca knew, of course".
"How long?".
"The day the Queen was informed of the army gathered in Wolford, she sent word to Marshall Elfhelm to return forthwith to Rohan. We reached Edoras on day twenty-two of the siege. Food supplies had run dry three days prior and before that, rationing allowed very little to eat anyway".
The next words seemed to cost the King an actual physical pain. "People died of starvation?".
"Eleven died, either elders or individuals whose body was already weakened by pre-existing conditions". It could have been much worse, but nonetheless it was eleven too many, Háca knew. "We trampled the rebels, lost twenty-one in battle and killed many more. All those who surrendered were taken prisoners. The Queen hasn't yet decreed their fate".
"Lothíriel…", the King asked in a low voice and Háca recognized the pain and the anger. It was the very same he had felt upon discovering what Aldwyn had suffered while he was fighting a war in a distant land.
"She endured famine like everyone else in the city. She…", he paused, wondered what he should say for he himself did not quite know what was with her, "She feels lonely, I think. Even with all her family around. She travelled to Rhûn looking for a way to part from you, to bid you one final farewell, there where we thought you had fallen. Had she not insisted about coming, we would have never found out… was Léod really here, Lord?".
The King's eyes shifted towards the other cot in the cell. "How do you know?".
"Before journeying back, we stopped to gather provision at a nearby camp. While we were there, I was approached by someone. He didn't say his name, only that some of my countrymen were held prisoners in a quarry, awaiting to fight one another. I didn't know whether I could trust him. Then he told me that among the captives was a young man named Léod, former squire of the King. He described him to a tee, said he had died alongside three more and that someone named Eorl might have been killed during his escape…".
"Distal. The name of the man you met is Distal and I am the Eorl he mentioned, it's the name I go by here. Can't believe he came to you. I'd have sworn him the type of man who doesn't care for others… did you turn yourself in to discover whether what he told was true?".
"Yes. Now that we know, the Queen will seek Umrist – he's the one with whom we negotiated peace with Rhûn, and demand that we are released. Time is against us, I fear". He held the King's gaze and revealed, "The tournament will start in two weeks".
Rhûn, August the 23nd, FO 4
For fourteen days Lothíriel and her companions had studied Umrist's movements and discovered the Easterling chieftain was, surprisingly, a creature of habit. He rose with the sun and broke fast with clotted cream and tea. During the day he'd either travel closer to the border or oversee activities within the camp. He returned to his quarters after dusk, when together with his wife and four guards they'd visit an altar located about two miles away, on an outcrop overlooking his camp. A dinner normally consisting of mutton followed and shortly afterwards, he'd retire to his tent.
After lengthy discussions with King Elessar's men, they agreed the safest way to approach Umrist would we while he was en route towards the shrine. When at last Sedgon returned from his mission and confirmed everything the stranger had told Háca was true, they sprang into action.
"Once we have taken control, whichever order I will give you'll obey without hesitation", Lothíriel warned in a tone that brook no argument.
They were as fragmented a group as you could get, an odd blend of Easterling, Gondorian and Rohirrim, and she knew the importance of showing a united front. Just like she knew some of her companions were not going to like how she planned to bind Umrist to his word.
About two hundred yards from the altar the road twisted in a sharp bend. They chose vantage points to hide and waited, bows at the ready. When the chieftain party of six was halfway through, Aldwyn and the men emerged from their hideouts and aimed at the leader and his wife, their arrows ready to be set loose at any moment. The four guards unsheathed their swords and stood around their chieftain to shield him, but they were at clear disadvantage: one volley of arrows and they'd be done, no chance to reach the archers before the damage had been inflicted.
Aldwyn fired one single shot at their feet as a warning. At that, Umrist emerged from behind his men and yelled something.
"He demands to know who we are", one of the spies translated.
Lothíriel revealed herself. Clad in Easterling garments, her skin tanned after days spent riding under an unforgiving sun, she hardly looked the part. "Lothíriel of the Riddermark, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, Queen Regent of Rohan".
There was a moment of astonished silence. The laughter that followed did not surprise her, but she knew how to douse the unwanted humour. "On May the seventeenth you met with King Elessar and Marshall Elfhelm to negotiate the terms of a peace treaty between our peoples. It happened two hundred and thirty miles from here, on a rainy day. You approached the tent with your wife and four guards, perhaps the very same that are accompanying you today. Inside was a map showing the locations of our armies, horse pawns for the Rohirrim, swans for the Amrothian and trees for Gondor. You had a bitter exchange of words with Marshall Elfhelm, you gazed for a long silent moment at your wife before eventually agreeing to our conditions. One of them being, I'd like to remind you, the immediate release of all prisoners of war".
The smile vanished from the chieftain face. "Why did King Elessar and Marshall Elfhelm summon me specifically?", he tested her.
"They didn't. Our scouts spread word that we were seeking a party to sit at the negotiation table. You showed up to represent the six largest tribes".
"Why would the Queen of Rohan travel to Rhûn, unannounced, with only a handful of guards to escort her, none of them Rohirric".
"A very personal matter. I wished to visit the place where my husband the King fell, and I wished to do it privately, without the ruckus a Royal escort would irremediably cause".
"And you don't think attacking me and my wife would cause an even bigger ruckus, Queen?".
"Meeting you was not part of my plan - in fact, I had intended to be already half-way home by now. Alas it became unavoidable after I discovered you breached the more than generous conditions we offered you that day".
"Speak plainly. What do I stand accused of?", Umrist snapped.
"As I already mentioned, prisoners of war were to be immediately released. Hundreds of your men were allowed to return to their wives and children because we held up our end of the bargain".
"Perhaps grief has turned you both mad and forgetful. We freed the men we had captured".
"Some, yes. But not all. Twenty-two of them remained, enslaved in a squalid quarry and forced to fight one another like rabid beasts. Do you know how I felt when I was informed of it? Like the only proper answer to such affront was mustering the Rohirrim and flatten each single one of your camps! Then I took a deep breath and decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I suggest you appreciate the effort and take down a notch the hubris and anger that I hear in your voice".
"You want me to calm down? Tell your men to lower their weapons!".
Lothíriel gave the signal. The tips of the arrows shifted towards the ground. She took a coin from inside her pocket and tossed it at Umrist's feet. "They hit a gold vein in one of the sections of the quarry. Recognize the engraving?".
"Gorgan", the chieftain growled. His wife emerged from behind the guards. She studied the coin and muttered something nasty – whether directed at her or Gorgan, she wasn't sure.
"Were you aware of the existence of a quarry?".
"I heard about it. Gorgan is not one to share details of his endeavors and his lands are well patrolled. I don't even know its exact location. This still proves nothing though".
"Oh, but it does. See that is more than just a coin. It's an admission ticket to a tournament that will start in only one week, one in which my people will be given no choice but killing their own brethren. Eighteen of them are still alive, nineteen now. Because see, I didn't just receive a tip and jumped at your throat without second thought. This is Lady Aldwyn. She may not look like one because she coloured her hair to go unnoticed, but she's a shieldmaiden of Rohan. Her husband Lord Háca travelled with us too. We were told the approximate location of the quarry but we still needed a way in to verify whether some of our people were held in there. Lord Háca gave himself up and thanks to his courage, we were able to prove what an anonymous informant had told us was sadly true".
"And I'm supposed to believe all of this, just because of this one golden coin?", Umrist challenged her. He held himself with confidence, but something in his body language had changed, the seed of doubt slowly taking hold.
"You asked I speak plainly, and so I shall. There is only one scenario in which the Rohirric army won't return to finish the job we started last spring: my escort and I are allowed to return to Gondor; within latest one month, exactly thirty days from now, the nineteen Rohirrim are returned to us, alive and unharmed; I will not demand Gorgan to be executed, but I want him to pay for his crimes in the way your justice sees fit; also, I demand a collateral. Accept my conditions and the peace treaty between our peoples will stand. Don't and you'll face the full extent of our wrath".
Umrist took a deep breath and walked to the edge of the path. "After we signed the treaty, Gorgan refused meeting its terms. Me and other three chieftains had to force him to collaborate and release the prisoners. We emptied the cages in his camp, but it is plausible he managed to spirit away some of them before our arrival. Like I told King Elessar and Marshall Elfhelm that day, I was only there to speak on behalf of the majority of the Easterlings, certainly not all. Certainly not Gorgan and those loyal to him".
"While this is precisely the reason why I sought to speak to you before mustering the Rohirrim, I must admit such technicalities hold very little interest for me at the moment. All that matters is returning those men to their families. Do you accept my conditions?".
"All but the collateral".
"Non-negotiable".
"Not much as token of trust goes".
"Four of my men have already died at the quarry. Demanding a collateral as a means to ensure you won't fail the nineteen that still live is a far more generous approach than exacting compensation for those who were butchered by order of Gorgan".
"What do you want?".
"I believe you already know".
Umrist glanced briefly at his wife before speaking again. "What would you think of such proposal, had our roles been exchanged?".
"Nothing good", she admitted without hesitation nor shame. "Your wife will receive a far better treatment than the one Gorgan is bestowing upon my men, I assure you. She won't be cuffed, we'll share our food and water with her. I know that by the customs of your people it is considered inappropriate for a woman to be alone in the presence of men which are not her kin. Your wife will never be put in such situation, either myself or Lady Aldwyn will always be with her. At night, she'll have her own tent. At day, she'll ride her own horse".
"But she'll not be able to leave".
"No, she will not".
The chieftain addressed Sedgon and the other Easterlings that were part of her escort. "I thought you deserted to Gondor because tired of the war and violence our past association with Mordor has brought upon us. Yet you will stand by and watch as my wife is taken prisoner by this foreign Queen?".
The spies showed no sign of discontent, but Lothíriel knew better. "Return those men to their families and your wife shall be returned to yours", Sedgon spoke.
Umrist's consort walked up to him. They spoke in hushed, sombre tones. Moment later, one of his guards brought her horse. "I accept your conditions, but you better keep the word you have given me, Lothíriel Queen of the Mark, or else Rohan will bleed. That is my oath to you".
The threat did not impress her. "Nineteen men, Umrist. Not one less. The tournament starts in one week, Sedgon will provide you with a map with the exact location. While you are there, you may want to inspect the site and seek justice for your people too. Gorgan has little children working in the quarry. I'm sure once you ask around, you'll find all sort of dreadful stories confirmed".
On the look of horror the chieftain gave her, Lothíriel turned around and mounted her horse.
They rode through the night and only stopped to rest the following evening. She showed Umrist's wife – Kari was her name, to her tent and addressed her for the first time since they had departed. "Do you speak our language?".
"Yes", the woman replied.
She was as stern and proud as Marshall Elfhelm had described her, something Lothíriel found congenial. In other circumstances, she might have been intrigued and asked questions about her people and her customs. But as it was, she was fairly sure they each preferred keeping their distance. "You will sleep here tonight. Supper will soon be ready. Should you need anything, please call on Lady Aldwyn and she'll assist you".
Kari's gaze shifted to the shieldmaiden, a ghost of a smirk crooking her lips. "I have a request for you: kindly remove the Queen from my tent".
A few years past, Aldwyn would have surely jumped at the other woman's throat. Fortunately, she was a much more controlled person now and a slight curl of her upper lip was her only visible reaction.
Lothíriel had no issue complying with the request and left the tent. Outside, Sedgon gave her a hard stare, "What we are doing, it is not right".
"I know", was her laconic answer.
ACH: thank you for taking the time to review!