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The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter 10: Erik in Love

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Post subject: The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter 10: Erik in Love
Posted: Sun 08 May , 2005 12:22 am
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Erik Chapter 10: Erik in Love

Finally, Rolf tipped the mug he held and drained it. “What say you?” he said to Olaf.
“ Will you have another?”

Olaf shook his head no, watching Erik’s face, and then he laughed. “Well, maybe a half. I will get it.” He moved as if to rise to his feet, then laughed again and handed his mug to Erik. “Here you go, youngling. Now, make hay while the sun shines, if you take my meaning. We cannot hang about here all night. And mind those feet of yours!”

Erik took the two mugs in his hands and made his way to the bar. There she was. But standing beside her was a tall young man who was scowling at Erik, and Erik’s heart sank.

“Miriel,” the young man said, “Mother says you have been at this work long enough and bids you go upstairs. I will serve this fellow.”

Miriel smiled saucily at her brother. “But I know he would rather it was me,” she said. “You frown so much you frighten folk away.” She pushed at her brother’s shoulder and he moved along.

She took the mugs from Erik and her fingers touched his hand and he felt as if some wonderful bolt of lightning had flown through her little hand to his. “My friends want only halves, if you please,” he said.

Very slowly did she draw the ale. Sliding the first mug across the bar to Erik she said, “Are you really a Rider of the Mark?”

“I am not really a trooper,” Erik said. “But I have a horse, and I will ride with Eomer King. I am in the Eored of Grima Sigurdson, and he was second to Theodred son of Theoden King.”

Miriel nodded. “Theoden was the King that fell in the battle, wasn’t he? An old man, my Father says.”

“Old, but very valiant,” Erik said.

“Oh,” she said. “I think you are all valiant.” She looked up at Erik with her big dark eyes. “I was so frightened! My Father took us all into the city to my Aunt’s house, and we stayed there until it was all over.”

Something touched Erik on the shoulder and he turned to find a tall surly trooper there, holding a half dozen mugs. “Step aside, lad,” he ordered. “Let a man get his ale.”

Now Miriel lifted her pretty chin. “My Mother says I am done with serving for tonight. You had better go along to my Father down at the other end.”

“But you are serving this boy!” the man protested.

“Oh,” she said, with one of her saucy smiles. “That is different. He is my friend.”

The man would have doubtless said somewhat unpleasant but Miriel’s brother stepped up and the look on his scowling face stopped the trooper from hasty speech. “Miriel,” her brother said, “ Mother has bid you go upstairs.”

“Yes, I will, just as soon as I am done with this,” she said. She wiped the outside of the mug very carefully and set it down on the counter. “If we are to be friends,” she said, “I had better know your name, had I not?”

“Are we to be friends?” Erik croaked. Then, hastily, before she could think what a fool he was, he said, “I am Erik.”

“I am Miriel,” she laughed. “But I think you already know that, don’t you?”

He nodded. He stood for a moment, staring down at the foaming mugs in his hands. What could he say? He could think of nothing.

“We ride out tomorrow,” he said at last. “Maybe—you could watch us ride by?”

“Maybe I could,” she answered.

“Miriel!” her father said. “Upstairs with you, my lass!”

Rolf took the mug with a look of long suffering. “I thought you were lost,” he said. “Now I wish I had asked for a whole pint and not a half, I got so dry waiting for you.”

“Now, now, friend Rolf,” Olaf said. “What is a little suffering in the cause of love?”

Erik flushed, and said, “Her name is Miriel.” He said nothing about the word “love”, but he felt it, like another of the little lightning bolts.

“ Ah, a pretty name for a pretty lass,” Rolf said kindly.

Olaf nodded. “Yes, a pretty lass. You have a good eye, lad.”

Long did Erik lie awake that last night at Mundberg, thinking of Miriel’s pretty face, and the touch of her hand on his. He felt truly that he had been felled by her smile, and that he would be taking a wound should he ride away from her. Could it be that he would ever see her again?

Always had his heart pumped away in his breast in quite the common manner. But now was his heart not his own any more, he had given it away at the first sight of this maiden smiling at him, nay, not even that, at the first sight of her, her shapely form and dancing eyes. Even her dark hair; and yet ever, ever had Erik favoured golden hair. As he fell into sleep he wondered if she would care to watch for him, as the Riders moved out on the morrow.

The 18th of March dawned fair and fine, with a brisk seawind catching the pennons and standards of the Host of the West as it mustered on the Pelennor.

Erik was awake betimes and he groomed Ruadh until the roan horse shone and he cleaned his gear and he put on his clean garments and scrubbed his face and tied back his hair in a neat club on the nape of his neck. He knew it not, but he was a fair youth. Taller than the common height already, he still had a boy’s lanky frame and would likely be taller still one day. He had the golden hair of Rohan, and clear gray eyes set in a comely face.

But little did Walda Bryttason care for Erik’s looks or the looks of any other man, for that matter. He paced about, his odd hat pushed back, the wide brim turned up. Such was his care and industry that all was in readiness for the order to move, but Walda fretted and chewed his lip, thinking he had surely forgot something of import. “Salt,” he muttered, “horseshoe nails. Coils of strapping. Linen for bandages.” He cast his eye over all his charges, two and four-footed both. Much fell to Walda, and he had never yet been found wanting. But never had he set out on such a road as this.

Erik saw the great Lords assembled, with their standards snapping in the wind. There was the green field and white horse of Rohan, and there was Eomer Eomundson on his great horse, armour gleaming. There was a blue standard bearing a swan, and an Eored of splendid knights with their Prince. And there was a Lord with a black banner bearing a white tree and Erik knew that Lord, he was the warrior that had been with Eomer at the Hornburg. “The King of Gondor,” Walda said, in answer to Erik’s question. “Aye, he was at Helm’s Deep, ‘tis the same man for sure. A mighty man, all say.”

The road was lined with folk and they cheered as the host began to move. Erik looked this way and that. Then he saw her. She was standing with her brother and when she saw Erik she ran up to the column and held up her hand to him. He bent and took from her hand the blue ribbon that had bound up her hair. She put her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss as he passed by. Turning in the saddle, he looked longingly at her. He pressed the blue ribbon to his lips and then thrust it in under his shirt, and on he rode.

_________________

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


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