In An Age Before – Part 304
In fury, Helluin had cast the spear she had taken from a cadaver in the city and it impaled a Dunlending seated on his horse close to Wulf. The Rohirrim continued galloping away from Edoras. Unsurprisingly, no further bolts came from the Corsairs. Perhaps surprisingly, the Dunlending cavalry did not choose to give chase. It seemed they were disordered by and more concerned with Wulf's wounding than pursuing their fleeing foes. In that, Prince Haleth's last act had spared his Men further fighting.
As they crossed the grasslands making for the entrance to Harrowdale, Helluin rode closer to the Third Marshal. She was fuming that he had been shot whilst she was sworn to protect him, especially after he had escaped the siege of Edoras unscathed. Now she brought Hildmearh shoulder to shoulder with his steed and saw that the stallion was only running by reflex whilst consumed with guilt and heartbreaking sorrow. She met his eyes and they shared thoughts.
My Rider, my lord…he is dying! was the first thought that came to the Noldo.
Alas, that may be so. I can only see that he is gravely wounded, Helluin replied.
I have failed my charge. 'Tis my fault. I could not keep him safe in battle!
Much cannot be foreseen in battle, she told him. The prince chose thy path and mayhap the Corsairs would have shot regardless. The blame falls not upon thy back.
'Tis hard to see it so, he admitted, canst thou give him 'aught in aid?
The thought of attempting healing at a full gallop when her patient was on another horse was so ludicrous that Helluin refused to countenance the possibility. More alarming to her was that the prince was beginning to list to his left and would likely soon fall from the saddle.
His balance fails and he shall be unseated, she told the stallion. By thy grace, I would ride behind him, to support him 'til we are safe.
The warhorse gave no thought to her added weight. He was set to run to his death to escape his sorrow and guilt.
Please, please…'aught thou can do I accept, he said, and began slowing. Helluin paced him on Hildmearh, but admonished him to continue at a gallop.
Maintain thy pace, I pray thee, for the sake of those that follow. Make for Harrowdale.
When he had resumed his gait and Hildmearh again matched him, Helluin leapt onto his back, settling behind Haleth's saddle and wrapping an arm 'round his waist. 'Twas slick with blood.
There was 'naught else that she could do 'til they stopped. She dared not pull the quarrel from his body lest it cause the bleeding to hasten. All she could do was keep a hand pressed 'round the wound and save him from falling as the entrance to the narrow vale of the Snowbourn drew closer.
It seemed to take fore'er to cross the mile 'til the highlands began to enclose them, yet all the Riders felt relief as they entered Harrowdale. They slowed their mounts to a trot, letting them rest, for they had endured much since leaving their stables. The Noldo swept her gaze o'er the survivors, thankful to see Captain Heaþolaf, Fostercyld, Beorhtwulf, Hroþulf, and Osbearn amongst them.
Five miles from Edoras, they finally came upon the hamlet of Upbourn. Thither, as Heorte had told Helluin, stood a gristmill, its water wheel slowly turning in a stone lined channel on the bank of the Snowbourn. Thither too, a ford delivered traffic 'cross the river where the road continued deeper into the vale along the southern bank. Another roughly two dozen structures spread out on both banks, the most notable a sawyer's shed for cutting lumber. None of this had stood in 2569 when Helluin had ridden through on her way to investigate the Paths of the Dead.
A half-dozen civilians stood 'round, apprehensively gathered at the sound of their approaching hooves. The Riders were glad to see them safe. Though she too was glad for that, Helluin was also unhappy to find them lingering in so dangerous a locale. Upbourn was all but indefensible to her eye. It seemed that Captain Heaþolaf had come to the same conclusion, and being the only surviving captain that Helluin had seen, she left it to him to engage with the villagers. He reined to a halt before the mill and questioned a Man that he must have recognized as the miller, ignoring the clamor of voices questioning the Riders' presence.
"Mylnweard, Upbourn is threatened. Whyfor do ye linger?"
"We take the last grist and flour and the victuals from the smokehouse ere rejoining the princess. We finish this hour, captain," the miller said, pointing to a wagon with several barrels in its bed and a pair of mules already yoked to the tongue.
Heaþolaf nodded in approval and asked, "Whither has the princess come?"
"To Underharrow and in doubt, captain, for most folk fear that place," the mill-keeper replied, casting a nervous glance upriver ere adding, "myself amongst them."
"Make haste. Foes may follow and we cannot hold this place," the captain said, and then he turned to the Riders and ordered, "We have wounded. We ride for Underharrow."
About damn time and past time, Helluin thought, for the prince's bleeding had slowed as they spoke and his heart was beating fainter with e'ery passing moment.
She leant down and looked the stallion in the eye.
Canst thou run? she asked. Underharrow lies three leagues ahead.
I shall come there if I must crawl, the warhorse said, though his breathing was already faster than ideal. I have now no other purpose.
When the Riders set out at a canter, Helluin caught Heaþolaf's eye and spoke to him in silence, mind to mind. If that seemed strange to him, he reacted not, for 'twas as if a strong feeling was shared 'twixt them rather than words. He saw his lord unconscious in her arms. He saw that the horses 'round him were tired and he gave her a nod.
"Run now, O great heart! Ahead waits thy rider's sister and the healers," Helluin cried out to the warhorse.
'Twas all that the stallion needed to hear. His hooves dug in and he came to a gallop, running like the wind and calling on the strength and will that had been bred into his sires through the centuries. Soon, the éoreds were lost in his wake as he disappeared in a cloud of dust.
The poor stallion was staggering when they reached Underharrow after the third part of an hour. Helluin was swift to dismount and swift to lift Haleth from his saddle. She laid him on the ground as people came at a run from the hunters' shacks and hastily raised tents. Amongst them were a healer, Princess Heorte, and at her side as e'er, the Shieldmaiden Agrona. Ere they arrived, she turned to the warhorse.
Rest now, noble steed, thy day's ride is done.
Lathered and heaving, the horse had barely strength to raise his head and meet her eyes. Had he needed to speak with voice, his panting would have made words impossible, for his strength was spent.
I fear we are come too late. His life wanes. I was too slow. The proud steed sank down beside the Noldo and the prince, lying on his side in the dirt, his muzzle resting on the prince's boot.
If thy haste served not, then none could, Helluin said. I too have failed him.
In the next moment, Heorte was kneeling beside her brother, and the sorrow in her eyes fairly broke the Noldo's heart. The princess could see the bolt piercing his side and the blood on his cloak where it had pumped from 'neath his hauberk. She clasped his hand and then looked to Helluin, begging for some hope.
Barely two inches of the quarrel past the fletching remained visible outside his body. There was little point in pulling it free, for it had surely pierced his lung through and barely missed his heart or he would already have been dead. Now the bleeding was but a trickle and the rise and fall of his chest was barely to be seen.
The healer kenned all this at a glance, and knowing the gravity of his plight, stayed her approach to give them space, her satchel of herbs and bandages useless.
"We were forced from Edoras, but seeing Wulf, the marshal rode against him. Alas, fate betrayed him and a Corsair crossbow struck him," she said. "He left his spear in his enemy's shoulder."
"So pale," Heorte whispered, looking down upon Haleth's face, "so chill his hand."
"'Tis the shock of the wound, my lady. He hath said 'naught since," Helluin told her. "Barely doth he cling to life, and that a wonder after five leagues' flight, though his steed was swift."
Helluin looked to the warhorse and marked that his lungs were stilled. He had run himself to exhaustion and his sorrow had done the rest. The stallion had passed sooner than his Rider and with not a mark from battle on him. Alas, that one bolt has taken them both, Helluin thought. Mortally wounded, Haleth had managed to outlive his horse.
A gasp from Heorte drew Helluin's attention. The prince's hand, aforetime limp in hers, had returned her grasp and his eyes had fluttered open, meeting hers. The look in them was of one who knows his own death is 'nigh and she read that truth in an instant. Haleth spoke no word, but the hint of a smile graced his lips, and then his eyes were listless and his breathing was stilled. So passed Helm's heir, at noon on 13 Nórui.
Sobbing, Heorte held her brother in a final embrace whilst Agrona, Helluin, the healer, and the gathered people watched, helpless. The Noldo reached out and gently closed his eyes. Then, still holding his body, the princess wailed her heartbreak and the people took up her lament, crying, wringing their hands, and shaking their heads in sorrow for their fallen prince. Somewhere a voice rose, shaky at first, to chant a song of heroism and loss, of good times recalled, fallen heroes, and death in battle. One by one, the Rohirrim joined in 'til a choir of ordinary folk sang their dirge in commemoration of the Third Marshal. The final verse ran thus:
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver?
Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup!
Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendor of the prince!
How that time has passed away,
Dark under the cover of night,
As if it never were.¹
¹(Translation of lines 92-96 of the Old English poem "The Wanderer", from the 'Exeter Book', c. late 10th cent., which was the inspiration for JRRT's "Lament for the Rohirrim", recited by Aragorn in LotR, TT, Book 3, Ch VI KotGH, pg 497.)
Into this somber gathering rode the éoreds with Captain Heaþolaf at the fore. It took only a moment for them to ken that what they had feared had come to pass. Then they dismounted and stood silent a while with heads bowed, but finally, they too joined in the song. Towards the end of their verses, Helluin finally drew the bolt from Haleth's chest so that he would not bear it to his barrow.
It fell to Agrona to comfort and raise the lady from her brother's body after the last strains of the song had died away. Then the captain and five others who had served long with the marshal lifted him and set three shields 'neath his body, and the six of them lifted this makeshift battle bier and carried him gently to the nearest hunter's shed. There they let him lie in state a while, 'til they could take counsel for the coming days.
The council convened only after Princess Heorte had recovered her composure. Being the last surviving member of the House of Eorl in the Eastfold, all deferred to her leadership. Whilst awaiting her, the mylnweard from Upbourn and his party arrived with their wagon of grain, smoked hams, sausages, and cheeses. When she was ready, the lady, Agrona, Helluin, Captain Heaþolaf, the healer, and a representative of the citizens of Edoras met in the princess' tent.
"As ye have come hither, I deem Edoras is taken and I would learn of it, yet ere that, selfish though it may be, I would hear of my brother's fate," she said. She glanced 'round the circle of faces with reddened, puffy eyes. Heaþolaf looked to Helluin and the Noldo dipped her head, preparing to say her rede.
"My lady, thy brother commanded the defense of Edoras against o'erwhelming odds, yet after three hours of battle and with his host diminished by the deaths of two in three, he was forced to withdraw," Helluin began. She was about to continue, but the princess made a request that stilled the Noldo from astonishment.
"Lore tells that by some enchantment thou, and mayhap all thy folk, can speak by way of visions, showing what came to pass aforetime without words," Heorte said. "'Tis said thou spoke thus to Frumgar King about Burg Blæcdry."
"What thou say is true, Princess, though I am surprised that any recall it now," the Noldo said. 'Nigh a thousand years had passed since that day.
"The experience was so singular that 'twas the subject of stories and songs in its time," Heorte said, "for 'twas witnessed by many, including the king's heir, Prince Fram."
"Prince Fram, his younger brothers, the Princes Arne and Leifr, and many householders witnessed the Ósanwe 'twixt me and King Frumgar, for so the sharing of thoughts and memories is called amongst the Elves. The king sought to see Dol Guldur and I sought to spare him enduring that place in person."
The princess nodded in understanding for now the scant accounts that she had read were confirmed. The Elves did partake of magicks for the sharing their memories, even with mortals.
"By thy grace, Helluin, I would see what thou saw that I may know the truth of my brother's final acts," Heorte said.
Helluin dipped her head, agreeing to the princess' request, for whether or not t'would being her comfort, she was next of kin to the fallen and denying her would serve 'naught.
"If thou art resolved in this, then thou hast but to look into my eyes," she told Heorte.
Whilst the rest of the council looked on with varying degrees of nervousness, the princess took a deep breath and then stared into the Noldo's eyes. For a moment, she felt as when she was a girl looking up into the summer sky as she lay on her back in a grassy field 'nigh Edoras, and then that sky rushed down to envelope her, or perhaps she was upward falling into it. In that blue expanse, there were no cloud pictures, only shouting, screaming, fire, and smoke. The abandonment of Edoras was all 'round her on a sudden and she was there.
A host of Dunlendings and Corsairs filled the partially open right gate and the ground inside, but many of them were aflame and fleeing the battle. The sight of Men burning was horrifying to the princess, their screams of pain and terror, bloodcurdling. From the one whose memories she shared, she felt no sympathy for them, scions of ancient enemies that they were, only a focused assessment of the potential for escape from the city. She heard the thunder of hooves and turned to see her brother astride his warhorse Eorlic¹, his Men following close behind as they charged the gates. ¹(Eorlic, Noble Old English)
Her viewpoint lurched forward as her own horse came to a gallop, matching her brother and riding at his side. Then they were driving through the fiery rout of foes, pitching them aside and running down others as they rode through the half-open gate amongst burning Dunlendings and Corsairs. She could smell the smoke of wood and their roasting flesh, the acrid scent of burning clothing and armor, and hear the dull thuds of impact as they were struck by the charging horses. 'Twas as if they fled through a nightmare tunnel of tormented souls, much as she imagined hell would look, and then they were outside the stockade. They had escaped the city. The last of the invaders swarming away from the palisade fell behind.
Down the dirt track towards the barrow field they rode, yet ahead amongst the mounds of the dead kings waited companies of Corsairs with crossbows. Her brother turned his Men away into the open grassland to avoid their deadly trap, for 'cross the track from them sat a column of mounted Dunlendings. The marshal would use these enemy horsemen to shield his éoreds against their own archers.
The plan was good and she felt the approval of the one whose memory she shared, but then Haleth veered towards the enemy cavalry. As Helluin looked at their front rank, she saw the weasel who had craved her hand in marriage when he had come to Edoras years ago, Wulf son of Freca, whose father her own father had slain. She gritted her teeth with hatred, but she felt the Noldo groan in exasperation as she too recognized the Dunlending prince.
Woe betide this evil chance. I have not the time to come 'twixt Haleth and his foe…I cannot protect him!
She heard the whistle and felt the wind of a bolt passing just o'er her head, then felt the stinging impact and heard the metallic 'ping' of another as it deflected off her shoulder armor, but both were forgotten when she saw Haleth's body jerk as a quarrel struck him high in the side.
Heorte watched as Helluin had seen the marshal regain his control o'er his horse and his spear and a heartbeat later, plant its point in Wulf's shoulder. She scarcely marked casting her own spear into the body of another Dunlending seated 'nigh her enemy. Then Haleth was struggling to keep his seat as they galloped past and away from the Dunlendings. By the time they were clear, her brother was slumped forward o'er Eorlic's neck.
Now the princess rode close to her brother and in her mind, heard the conversation 'twixt the Noldo and Eorlic, a thing that astonished her, for Haleth's steed spoke to the Ælf with such sorrow and devotion…such love. Though she knew the Rohirrim's warhorses formed a bond with their Riders, she had ne'er suspect its depth.
My Rider, my lord…he is dying! I have failed my charge. 'Tis my fault. I could not keep him safe in battle!
His balance fails and he shall be unseated, Helluin told the stallion. By thy grace, I would ride behind him, to support him 'til we are safe.
The warhorse had given no thought to her added weight. He would spare himself 'naught in his service to her brother, this the princess clearly understood. Please, please…'aught thou can do I accept, the noble stallion had said.
They had run 'til they came to Upbourn where Captain Heaþolaf had briefly engaged with the mylnweard. Those moments had been precious and Heorte felt Helluin's growing impatience as they waited on tidings of hams and grain.
Canst thou run? she had asked tiring Eorlic. Underharrow lies three leagues ahead.
I shall come there if I must crawl, the warhorse had said with fatalistic resolve. I have now no other purpose.
Finally, they had set out for Underharrow, but the Noldo had given the captain a look that conveyed her necessity for speed and he had given her leave to break formation. The miles passed 'neath Eorlic's hooves, swift, but slowing, for he was spending the last of his strength and 'naught but grit and determination kept him at a gallop. It seemed to take an Age ere they came to the refugee camp and saw the people gathering to meet them. Then the poor stallion stopped and Helluin lifted the prince from his back.
Rest now, noble steed, thy day's ride is done.
I fear we are come too late. His life wanes. I was too slow. The proud steed sank down beside the Noldo and the prince, lying on his side in the dirt, his muzzle resting on the prince's boot.
If thy haste served not, then none could, Helluin said. I too have failed him.
Helluin blinked and the vision ended as Heorte saw herself dropping to her knees before her brother's body. Suddenly, the princess was back in the tent with the council 'round her and Agrona looking at her with fear and worry in her eyes. She reached out to take the Shieldmaiden's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"I am unharmed and have seen what came to pass more clearly than any words could tell," she told her, and Agrona gave a sigh of relief and a brief nod of thanksgiving.
"My lady, ne'er would I seek to deny thy sorrow nor the mourning thy brother is due, but soon we shall face a host of foes with odds worse than at Edoras," Helluin said. "Despite their losses, they number still o'er four thousands, and the captain has not even five éoreds at his command."
Captain Heaþolaf nodded in agreement and said, "There are five hundred sixty fit to ride and seventy-odd wounded who should recover. There are another eighty infirm and unfit for war."
"The enemy may spend this day securing Edoras, but we have slain hundreds of them, set Men afire, and escaped after wounding their chieftain. They shall seek revenge," Helluin said. "We must move."
Princess Heorte looked at Helluin and Captain Heaþolaf and gave them a sad nod of agreement. She wished for 'naught more than the chance to lay her brother in a barrow 'nigh those of his sires, and yet they were at war and Edoras was occupied by enemies. Those foes would be enraged and eager for vengeance when they came against the remnant of her people…people she was now charged to defend. Her father the king was campaigning from Súthburg in the west and as the sole noble of the House of Eorl in the east, she would not fail the folk of Edoras and the Eastfold regardless of what her heart desired.
"What course do ye recommend for the safeguarding of our people," she asked, though she already suspected what the Ælf would say.
"I have not the Men in Harrowdale to ensure the defeat of so great a host," Captain Heaþolaf admitted. Even here at Underharrow, the land was 'nigh two furlongs in breadth from cliff to cliff and the river ran too slow in this season to be a defense on their northern flank. "We are in jeopardy hither."
"My lady, we have but one choice, fearsome though many deem it," Helluin said. "Thou must lead thy people up the climbing road to Dunharrow."
The princess closed her eyes a moment and sighed. Agrona gritted her teeth and the healer shook her head and looked away. Captain Heaþolaf took a deep breath. None of them wanted 'aught to do with the haunted high meadow that lay on the doorstep of the Dwimorberg, and yet tactically, 'twas the only sound choice. Helluin had told her just so on the night ere her father had set out for Súthburg, in a season just past that seemed a lifetime ago.
M'lady, has the refuge of Dunharrow been provisioned? I have long deemed it the strongest fastness in all of Rohan. Should war approach Edoras, t'would be a strong redoubt for the aged, the young, and the infirm. Its ascending trail could be held long by few Men against many.
War had come and Edoras had fallen. She had led four hundred souls from the city, but she had been joined by another seven hundred-odd, mostly Riders, though a hundred and a half of them were wounded. Her best guess at the full count, including the last from Upbourn, tallied o'er eleven hundreds now.
"Is there space in Dunharrow for so many?" she asked. "And what of their belongings, our provisions, livestock, and horses. What shelter can we find, and what of water and firewood?"
Of them all, only Helluin had come thither, and that more than a couple centuries aforetime. Still, they all looked to her for she had voiced the suggestion.
"There is sufficient space and forage in the Firienfeld that lies before the fir wood of Dimholt," she said. "Behind that wood lies the entrance to the Paths of the Dead that no Man should tread. Thither a procession of standing stones leads to a narrow gorge. Crossing the Firienfeld is a rill of snowmelt whence rises the Snowbourn. Men, horses, and livestock may safely drink of it." For a few moments, the Noldo sat thinking, and then she said, "Carts may pass the switchback trail more easily than wagons, and its steepness may require lighter loads. 'Tis the tight, narrow turns that favor a single axle."
"The hardest part, t'would seem, shall be convincing the people to follow," Heorte said. "We have all grown up fearing the ghosts in the Dwimorberg. Desperate we shall needs be ere most would willingly take that road."
"My lady, we lost Edoras whilst outnumbered three to one," Captain Heaþolaf said. "Hither we shall be outnumbered five hundreds against four thousands. Hither we have no stockade, no gates, no room to fight on horseback, and we shall be driven against a cliff with scant possibility of flight. And…and the marshal is lost. My lady, I am desperate and I shall follow thee."
"We have well 'nigh no arrows remaining to loose against their crossbows," Helluin said, "and most of the invaders already fight as infantry. In a melee afoot, their numbers shall prevail."
"I cannot gainsay these arguments, much as I wish I could," the princess admitted. She shook her head as she accepted that her fears would become real. "I shall force none to follow me, but I shall take my brother's body and ascend to the Firienfeld, and there I shall lay him to rest that he may look out o'er the lands he loved and stare down upon his enemies."
"Thou hast my aid, my lady," Helluin said.
"I reckon more shall follow thee than not, my lady," Agrona said softly, "I for one, though I fear that place."
"I shall follow thee, princess, for many are wounded and shall need tending," the healer said.
They looked then to the last member of the council, the head of a prestigious family of Edoras who had been chosen by the other refugees to represent them. Inwære was his name. For many moments, he chewed his lips in indecision whilst fear of the Dunlendings warred with fear of Dunharrow in his heart. Yet in the end, he would counsel those who had entrusted him to chance uncertainty for a certain death at the hands of their hated foes.
"I too shall follow thee, my lady," he finally said, though his hands trembled still.
Heorte nodded and offered him a thankful smile. Then she said, "I thank ye for your counsel. I shall speak to the people." Thereafter, she stood, and with Agrona beside her, took her leave of the tent.
Much to the princess' surprise, 'twas Inwære that stood beside her and aided her argument for the people to follow her to Dunharrow. Where she had spoken of the military reasoning for their withdrawal to the Firienfeld, he spoke candidly to their fears.
'If ye stay, ye die," he began, making people gasp. "Our enemies crave blood after so many fell whilst taking Edoras. Seven hundred Riders they have slain, but they have lost twice that count and were I they, revenge would drive me. Save some few they might spare for slaves, they shall slaughter the rest of us and I would not stake my life on their mercy. Their spears and their crossbows are real. Our fear of the ghosts may be 'naught more than fear for none has seen them, but the Dunlendings we have all seen. I am leaving."
For a while, the people stared at him in silence, and then a few turned away and began packing. A few more followed, and then a few more 'til after a few minutes, well 'nigh all had gone to prepare to ascend to the high meadow. Heorte offered him a grim smile of thanks and he dipped his head to her, silently mouthing, "My lady," ere he turned to gather his family.
At that time, the two largest wagons pulled away from Underharrow, headed back down the dale at a trot. The sawyer and his apprentice drove with several other Men of Upbourn seated in their beds whilst Helluin, Beorhtwulf, Fostercyld, Hroþulf, and Osbearn rode beside them.
Heorte cast a questioning glance to Captain Heaþolaf who said, "They go to empty the sawyer's workshop of tools, boards, hardware and 'aught else in the hamlet that may serve for the betterment of our exile."
The princess nodded, thinking no more of it as she turned to ordering the flight of her people to Dunharrow whilst still dreading their arrival on that haunted ground. She wondered how long they would have ere their enemies assailed them. Then, with effort, she banished that thought too and began aiding her householders in striking their tents.
It took but a few hours 'til the people were ready. They had not even been in Underharrow long enough to unpack. Now they stood ready to march with sacks o'er their shoulders, wheelbarrows filled with possessions, and carts or wagons loaded as they had when they came from Edoras just yestermorn. Herders readied their flocks. At the fore waited the princess and behind her, a column of Riders sat their horses, accompanying the wounded.
E'ery eye watched the progress of Captain Heaþolaf and the first éored as they reached the top of the switchback trail to Dunharrow. Then, one by one, the Riders vanished o'er the rim of the Firienfeld and disappeared from sight. 'Neath them in Harrowdale, the people held their breath, waiting for a sign that 'twas safe to join them.
To Be Continued
