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TheSaga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter 8: Erik Rides to Mundberg

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Post subject: TheSaga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter 8: Erik Rides to Mundberg
Posted: Mon 25 Apr , 2005 4:11 pm
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The Saga of Erik of Rohan: Erik rides to Mundberg

Never did the sun shine that day. Daylight it was, but the low gray cloud made it hard to see where the land ended and the sky began. Sound did not carry well, all sounded dull and distant. When the host stopped for the night the smoke from the campfires hung in the air, and at times Erik felt as if he could not properly draw his breath.

All the next day he rode beside Rolf and Olaf. They talked, as was their wont, lightly; complaining of small things so that one might think them other than they were, bold men and hardy, troopers of many campaigns. Oft did they return to the subject of Ulfwine the Fair and his missing hand. Indeed, this tale was on the lips of nearly all the troopers, the kind of tale they liked, one in which they could laugh at some great Captain, and one moreover that had naught to do with dread of what was to come.

“I saw it myself,” a man said to Rolf. “It is a golden hand.”

Rolf laughed. “Nay, nay. It is but a common glove gilded, I tell you! There was scarce time for a gold hand to be made and fitted while we lay at barracks!”

Other gossip there was as well. Olaf said he wondered why there was no sign of the strange Captain who had fought beside Eomer Eomundson at Helm’s Deep. Up spoke a man who said that he had heard that strange Captain was a Lord from far North and had taken himself off in a fey mood, he and all his party, and was gone.

“They say he went in under the mountain,” the man said. “If it be so, be sure he will be seen no more. But very likely he and Eomer had some falling out, it is ever the way with these great lords.”

But spoke another man, hot with anger. “Nay, ‘tis not so! There was no dispute, I tell you! Who that Lord might be I cannot say, but that he and Eomer parted friends I can swear! I saw their farewell, and they embraced like brothers.”

“Well, well,” Olaf said, ever the peacemaker. “Let us at least have no falling out, fellows. Let us save our heat for the foe.”

But the strangest tale was this: Olaf was now a married man. He scowled jokingly at Rolf, for spreading the news, but laughingly affirmed it. “Yes,’ he said. “The sad news must go out to all the maidens of the two realms, Olaf the Handsome is a bachelor no more!”

“That wind you feel,” Rolf jested, “is all those maidens sighing with relief. The snares of the fair widow Helga caught Olaf the Wary, you see, and so his wings are clipped and he is a barnyard rooster henceforth!”

It seems that the very day Olaf took Erik about to the shops was his wedding day, and not a word had he said to any. “I tired of living in barracks,” he said. “When next we are at Edoras, I will lie in my own bed in my own house and my own little wife will wait upon me hand and foot.”

“Little wife!” a man scoffed. “Helga Ivarsdattir? She is the kind of woman who is warmth in the winter and shade in the summer.” Seeing Olaf’s eyebrows go up, he hastily added, “But a fair woman, to be sure, and looks a right cozy armful.”

Olaf grinned. “Ah, well, at my age, I could not be too choosy.” Then, somewhat serious, he added, “I deemed the time was ripe to set my life in order, you see.”

He said no more, this kind of talk did not go down well with the riders. All knew what was likely to come, and it was held to be bad luck to speak of it.

Each day was hard riding. Ever were the horses their worry. Hard but not too hard was the pace, else would the horses break down. Where the way was steep, men dismounted and walked. Even Erik did so, and the troopers jested with him, saying that Ruadh need not be spared of so light a rider.

A long ride it was, and wearisome for man and horse. Yet it seemed good to Erik, to be riding with these men in the wild country of the mountains. The days wore on dark and heavy, yet for the most part Erik was content. Here he was someone, not a nameless brat living nohow in a nameless place. Here he was a man, here he had duties. Here he had friends. Never did he lie down hungry. He lay softer under the stars than ever he had in his mother’s house. Each day he woke with a light heart, he hummed bits of song as he groomed horses and carried corn and water and firewood. He put his hand to any task, and never complained.

Moments there were when he thought of what was to come, at the end of this ride. Some of the troopers had been in Mundberg before. “Minas Tirith” they called it, telling of the great city, greater than a score towns like Edoras, so vast that Edoras was like a hamlet in comparison. This city, it seemed, was built on a great river and that river ran to the sea.

The sea! Erik had never even heard of the sea, and he scoffed inwardly at the tales of these men. Water in the sea was salt, they said, and it rolled so far out of sight that boats upon it fell over the horizon. Monsters lived in this salt sea, the men said, and beautiful maidens with tails like fishes. Erik thought he would like to see one of these beautiful maidens, they were said to wear naught but their own long hair, and were also said to sing very sweetly.

At times as they rode, the men would sing. One would begin, and then would the rest take it up, and this did Erik love. Little music had he ever in his life. These songs lifted his heart and made his blood race. He began to sing along, learning the words as he went, and he found to his delight that his voice was musical and good, that those riding near would cease their own singing to hear his.

They rode on open land and rocks, but came at last to the forest where old tales had it that the wild Woses lived, man-like creatures who turned themselves to stone when a man’s eye fell upon them. Whatever the truth of that tale, it was true that all could hear some sound like drumming, and the troopers muttered among themselves, and watched warily as they passed under the trees.

Such was the weather now that they rode in a dimness like twilight; heavier and heavier seemed the air, warm and close. Scarce had half the month of March worn away, and yet there were no frosts in the nights.

Came Harald Haraldson back to where they rode. He greeted his old companions and rode for a space beside Olaf and Rolf and told them what was decided by the King and Eomer Eomundson, that after a short rest they would ride, that they would make no camp. The King had taken counsel of the Woses, it was said, and these beings would guide them to a secret road that led to Mundberg.

Men stared at each other and shook their heads. The Woses! Harald said he had seen one, had seen him speaking to Theoden King. “A man, surely,” Harald said, “but near naked, and looking as savage as a wild boar.”

Erik wished he had seen the Wose talking to the King. He thought it must have been a strange sight, and wondered what the white-haired King made of it.

They stopped and took a bite standing. Many men looked to their spears and swords, though surely all were sharp and bright. Straps were inspected. A loose horseshoe was quickly tended to. Came the order to move, and on they rode. No singing now, and such was the low, close air that they rode with little noise.

“Curse this gloom!” a trooper swore. His mount stumbled, and he swore again under his breath. All were weary and all knew the end of their journey was near. Came the order to halt and make a rough camp. No fires, the order said. And closer watch than ever before, sentries going on horseback and foot, and not singing out the hours.

It seemed the gloom lifted a little during the night. Stars shone briefly in wracks of clouds. A breeze stirred the air, then died away. To the East the sky glowed red along the horizon. “The city,” one man said.

“The city is burning then,” another man answered.

They moved long before dawn. The order came and horses were saddled and gear stowed. Erik watched as his friends made ready to ride. Their faces were grim and set, and they looked far, across the still-dark land, and across the hours to come.

Erik did not beg to ride with them. He knew that it was like that he and the few others coming behind with the spare horses and gear would have fighting enough, if the reports were true and the enemy as numerous and fierce as was said.

The Riders of the Mark galloped away behind the King’s standard, the Captains had given them all word of where they were to place themselves, and who was to command each arm of the host. Erik watched them in silence. After a time he took himself to the trooper whose duty it was to lead the horses and the mules carrying the tents and other gear.

This man, a grizzled trooper named Walda Bryttason, had chosen the ground where he would picket the mules and horses, and where the tents for the wounded would be set up. Near water, and with firewood handy. “Yet who can say,” he said dourly, “whether any of our fellows will find us? I never saw such a sight in all my years, I can tell you that.” As he spoke the wind rose, coming strongly from the South, from the sea, and a roar went up on the field.

************************************************************************

All know how the day ended. A great victory was won, but no one has ever counted the number that fell. Even the King fell, and now was Eomer Eomundson King of the Mark.

Long did Erik labour that day and into the night. Scores of men came to have their wounds dressed, some walking, some riding, and many, many borne on litters. He stumbled with weariness hauling buckets and firewood. He learned not to turn away at the sights that came before him, and he remembered again the words that Theodred had spoken, “An ugly business. Not like the tales.” This was victory, but he thought that it was nearly as hard as defeat.

Not only men fell. Horses were wounded, and many too hurt to live. Men went about with swords, to still their suffering. And there were men, as well, who begged for that mercy. Someone came and said that wagons would come and bear the wounded into the city, yet few would go. Those who could refuse, did, saying that men healed ever faster away from hospitals.

Erik lay down to take some rest about midway through the morning after the battle; he spread a blanket near the picket line and drew his cloak up and lay his head on his saddle. The sun shone. It was a fair day.

_________________

Living on Earth is expensive,
but it does include a free trip
around the sun every year.


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