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The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter Two

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vison
Post subject: The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter Two
Posted: Thu 17 Mar , 2005 7:27 pm
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The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter 2….

Erik slept but fitfully. He was not much used to comfort and so it was not the hard earth that kept waking him. Truth to tell, his spirits were high. Such had been his life that until this day and night nothing of import had ever happened to him; he felt that he was setting his feet on the path to some better future than he had ever dared to dream of before.

In the dark all around him men slept. Sentries went to and fro and the horses on their pickets moved now and again, stamping a hoof, or speaking softly to one another in their way. The smell of horse was borne strongly on the cold night air, but it was not unpleasant to Erik’s senses. He was used to the sour smell of his unwashed bedclothes, and to the fumes of his mother’s drink. To be in the clean open air suited him.

Before first light the camp was astir. Horses were fed from saddlebags, and water was brought in leathern buckets. Dry meat and cheese with hard bread made the men’s breakfast, but it was good meat, and good cheese, and Erik had never had bread that was not hard, so he made no complaint. He saw that Theodred had gathered several men about him and he went to where they stood.

“Here is our scout,” Theodred said, smiling. He looked somewhat unkempt, for there had been no shaving or combing for anyone, but his bearing was that of a prince and warrior and no one seeing this Eored would mistake anyone else for leader. “Come you, Erik, and you, too, Olaf and Rolf. From yonder hilltop we will see what goes forth in the enemy camp.”

They lay on their bellies looking down at the far side of the river and saw that there was a host of Orcs on the right and a few score of horsemen to the left. Again Erik was afraid, but the Prince and the other two men spoke calmly of what they saw. “Maybe ten or twelve score of Orcs,” Rolf counted, “and about four score of horsemen. We are five score and one more, with Erik here.” He ruffled his hand through Erik’s hair and grinned. “These odds are the same as even, lad.”

“But, lord,” Erik said. “If you ride at them across the ford, they will come upon you from either side, and so get at you in the water.”

Theodred nodded. “Such indeed would be our fate, Erik, if we came at them straight across the ford. But see you that shallow sort of ravine there, to our left? There I will set maybe three score of my men and then make a sortie from the right, thus drawing them across thinking us so outnumbered. Once they are all across, we will fall upon them, the sortie turning to face them, and the other men coming from the side.”

Erik smiled. “I see, lord. It is a good plan.”

“Yes, I think it is, myself,” Theodred joked. “Now, can we get to that ravine without being seen?”

“Yes, lord,” Erik said. “If you go down there, just beyond that copse? It means backtracking about a half a mile, maybe, but no more.”

As they walked down to the camp, Theodred spoke to Erik. “You have earned my thanks, Erik, and more besides. Take you this coin. As well, I make you a gift of the roan horse. And I would have you return to your home now, and so be out of harm’s way. Battle is no place for an unarmed boy, no matter how bold. No, do not frown so at me, Erik. I know what you would wish, and when you are a trooper, you may fight to your heart’s content, but for today you must stay away.”

Erik tried to be grateful and he did not wish to dispute with the prince. But he could not stop the quick words that flew to his mouth. “Please, lord. I will stay back. I will not get in harm’s way, I promise you. I will watch, from the hilltop, and I swear I will go no farther.”

“It is an ugly business, Erik,” Theodred said. “It is not like the tales.”

Erik grimaced and looked away. “I am not a babe in arms,” he said. “I have seen ugly things before.”

“Have you seen a man try to run holding his guts in, Erik? Have you seen a man picking up his one arm with the other?” Theodred’s voice was somewhat harsh. “If you were one of my men, you would have to obey my order. That is the way of it, lad.”

“Yes, lord. I understand.” Erik tried to smile. “And I may really keep the horse, lord?”

“The horse is yours. No doubt it has a name, but I know it not.” Theodred’s horse was brought to him, and the roan. “See here,” he said, his voice clear and carrying. “This roan horse I give to Erik here, for showing us the way.”

The standard bearer handed the reins to Erik. He smiled grimly. “Good wages, my lad. A troop horse, from the king’s own Eored.”

Erik drew himself up, putting his chin out. “It suits my lord, so it ought to suit you.”

“Oho, little rooster!” The standard bearer laughed. But it was an honest laugh, and his smile held warmth. “Well, you are right. If it suits my lord, it ought to suit me, Harald Haraldson.”

Harald Haraldson put out his hand and Erik put his in it. “I deem we will meet again, Erik,” Harald said. “Come, I will give you a leg up. Maybe someday you will get a saddle for Ruadh, here.”

“Is that his name? Ruadh?” Erik asked. He bent and stroked the arched neck. “Ruadh. The red one, eh?”

He pulled on the reins and turned the horse and rode away, staying behind the line of the hill so as to remain unseen by the enemy. He did not turn around. He could hear, for a space, the sound of men and horses, then he could hear nothing but the wind in the gorse, and the piercing cry of a hunting hawk.

He rode quickly, and was in the hamlet before noon. The few folk that were out and about stared at him, and he rode past them to the cottage he shared with his mother. Tying Ruadh to the ramshackle fence, he went up the stairs and into the front room. Kneeling by the hearth was his mother. Erik could see that she was already well on in drink, for she staggered against the chimney as she rose to her feet. He felt the old disgust churn in his belly, and could not look at her for loathing. He sat himself down at the table and stared dully around the filthy room and thought of the clean night air and the sharp smell of horses and the Prince’s keen grey eyes meeting his. What had he to do with this squalor? He was now a king’s man, he thought.

But how was he to get away? True that he had a horse to carry him, but whither could he go? One gold coin lay heavy in his pocket, it was all his wealth. He wished to be away, away anywhere, riding Ruadh over the great East Emnet, a spear set in rest on the saddle, the wind of his passage lifting his hair. Almost he could see it, and he clenched his hands together, to keep from shouting out. Somehow he would follow Theodred when he returned along the road. Somehow. Somehow.

His mother said nothing, but moved about in sullen silence. She put some cold porridge to fry, setting the iron spider in the coals. She had a jug of some kind of spirits near to hand, and now and again would tip the jug up and take a drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. When the porridge was brown on both sides she slapped half of it onto a plate and thrust it under Erik’s arm. He wished he was not hungry, but he was, and he ate it, washing it down with water. After a time his mother lay down on her pallet in the corner and went to sleep. Erik waited, and waited, but he knew not what he waited for, only that there was something coming, something was about to happen. He wondered how it fared with Theodred at the ford.

Near dark the first horsemen came to the hamlet, men of Theodred’s Eored. They rode at a walking pace, and when Erik went out he saw that some were wounded, and that there were two or three horses bearing bodies that lay like long bundles across their withers. He saw Rolf and Olaf riding side by side, and saw that Olaf had one arm bound up. He ran out to the road and hailed them.

“It is I!” he shouted. “Erik, who led you to the hilltop.”

“Eh, lad,” Rolf said heavily. “I know who you are. We are going to bivouac here this night, some of the men need to be indoors, and to have their wounds tended. Will you go about to your neighbours, and get them to prepare what is needful?”

“Of course I will,” Erik said eagerly. “I will do whatever is called for, sir. And the battle? Did you beat them?”

“Aye. We beat them, boy. Beat them. They have fled, those that still live, back to their warrens, back to their master. It will be a while before they dare to try the fords again.” Olaf stared into the distance. “But we paid a long price, Erik. Theodred son of Theoden King has fallen, and they bear his body, the men coming behind us.”

As if turned to stone stood Erik, unmoving. He felt the blood of his body go thick and run slow and his hands felt as if he had dropped something. His mouth was dry so that when he tried to speak he could not. For the space of some three score heartbeats he stood still and then he turned away, biting his lip so hard the blood ran down his chin.

More men came, among them Harald Haraldson, the standard bearer. He rode beside Theodred’s horse that carried Theodred’s body. The prince’s standard was furled, and the handle stood where the prince’s spear had been. The folk were there now, some helping hurt men down from horseback, some carrying water. Erik could do nothing, he sat on the step and stared at the ground. He heard people speak, heard even his mother roused and coming outdoors.

Some few of the men were put up in houses, and those who were unhurt camped in the open space before the smithy. Erik put Ruadh in the half-ruined byre behind the house and got some corn and water to the horse. He leaned against the warm beast as it ate, and wept sorely, clutching the horse’s mane in his hands. That night he slept heavily, wrapped in his wretched blankets and lying on the rude cot that was his bed. Once he woke. He heard the sentries calling to each other, calling the hour, calling that all was well. He groaned in misery. All was not well. Theodred was dead, the bold tall Prince. Those long limbs stilled in death, the bright braids caked with blood. His body lay on a makeshift bier in the forge, and a trooper stood at each corner, spear in hand.

In the morning the Eored made a mound for Theodred and the other fallen. “Be sure,” Harald Haraldson said, “that we will return for the body of our Prince, and the bodies of our comrades. Now must we ride to Edoras and bear the tidings to Theoden King.”

The folk of the hamlet watched as the troopers worked to raise the mound. Erik watched, too, and waited. The day wore on and night fell and then the next morning the Eored prepared to ride out. There had been speech between the Smith and Grima Sigurdson, now in command. Three score of horsemen were left behind as a watch on the fords, and they were to billet in the hamlet. Erik rode to the East and lay hidden in a thicket, Ruadh’s reins in his hand. He watched, and waited. Harald Haraldson asked where he might be, but no one could say.

The weather changed. Cold rain fell as the Eored rode out, the men riding with the hoods of their cloaks drawn over their helms. Past Erik they rode, in orderly ranks, silent under the slicing rain. He waited, and watched, and then they were only a dark blur ahead and he got himself up onto Ruadh and rode after them.

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theduffster
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Posted: Tue 22 Mar , 2005 3:07 am
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Hey, here's chapter 2. Found it!

I was surprised Theodred died so quickly. I was hoping he'd be a part of this a bit longer.

I'll read chapter 3 tomorrow. It's getting late, and I'm tired. But this is very good.

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