No news from the soldiers had come so far, and Eolynd was getting more and more nervous that Leodred would not be home for the birth of the baby. Talking to NN had done her a lot of good and distracted her most of the time, but today she felt restless. She turned around in the little house, lifting every item and wiping off imaginery dust. She folded and unfolded every piece of clothing that had been made for the baby, cleaned the windows, and the pots and pans, refusing every offer of help that Nienor-Niniel formulated with harsh words.
Since four weeks that she had stayed, Nienor-Niniel and Eolynd had gotten along rather well. Both of them had made a lot of progress in the other's language, bust most of the time they were speaking Westron together and only the contacts with the other villagers had given Nin the opportunity to use the first sentences of Rohirrim she was able to say. She was no longer used to speaking often with people and was silent most of the time. Only to Eolynd had she told a bit more, mostly about her life on the roads and in the forests of Middle Earth. In return, the Rohirrim talked about her home country, her herb lore, her husband who did not come back as soon as he was supposed. Eolynd was talking a lot more, introducing Nin to all her family and to most of the rest of the village. The skinny, silent, blonde woman followed her rescuer and everybody got used to the two of them - and Eolynd felt comforted by the idea that if Leodred did not come back in time, she was at least not alone.
If Leodred did not come back in time.... Today it looked as if he would indeed not come back in time. Eolynd rose from her chair, holding her heavy womb and then suddenly turned pale. A tearing pain had gone through her body and for having assissted other women in childbirth, she knew that her labour would start soon. « Go to my parent's house and tell my mother to come » said the Rohirrim to NN, although Eolynd was still hoping that it was a false alert and that she would have another few days of rest and that Leodred would come hom. Leodred........ Eolynd had tears in her eyes, when she thinking of him.
NN walked through the light snow on the streets of the village. The air was cold and it was almost unnaturally silent. It must not be later than six in the afternoon, but it was dark already. Nienor had understood that maybe Eolynd's time had come and felt the worry because Leodred had still not come back. Of course, she had never seen her friend's husband, but the concern of the healer had been enough for her to make her concerned too. He should have been back already, as far as she had understood. Apparently, something was going in Rohan and many of the conversations seemed to turn around attacks on other villages, and often it was question of women vanishing, of lost troups. She did not understood it all, but enough to be frightened.
Cealynd left immediately for her daughter's house, when NN came to catch her, but Idreard offered her a cup of tea to warm herself up, before she would go back and help. Idreard was as curious as the rest of the village about the stranger her sister had found, but speaking only very little Westron, she had not been able to know more about her. So it came that Nin was not with Eolynd when the alarm was risen and did not assist the birth of her future niece.
Idreard had put the water to boil, and chatted quickly about first names, Nin following her with her eyes, trying to understand each and every word of the flow of Idreard's ideas. All of a sudden, the loud and clear sound of a horn resounded in the air, and Idreard dropped the cup that she had hold in her hands, the tea was spilled all over on the ground, and the cup broken in hundreds of pieces. Only then the Rohirrim screamed. But not Nienor-Niniel.
Outside, the few men left in the village gathered, around the rider who had just arrived, covered with strains of blood and holding the rests of a broken lance in his hands. « Hurry » he managed to say, « hide and hurry. They are hundreds - mostly orks - ten minutes and they will be here. He almost fell off his horse of exhaustion.
« We cannot leave » said one of the villagers « time is too short and we have women, children and elderly people. »
« No » said Nin, loud and clearly in Rohirrim « we cannot leave, but we can defend ourselves ». Heads were turning towards her - she thought of the time she had spent with the mercenaries the preceeding automn- and she nodded - « yes, we can defend ourselves. We can't defend all the village, but put the women and children into two houses close to Eolynd's house. Eolynd can't move out and then all effort can be concentrated. It is close to the forest and we will have to defend only one side. And - she added, already gone to search her sword - « light some fires. It will not be daylight, but all of the orcs hate all form of light! »
The barely had the time to rise a defense line. NN posted herself close to Eolynd's house and behind the close shutters, she could faintly hear the voices of several women talking and Eolynd moan. So indeed her time had come and the baby was to be born this night.
The attack arrived quickly and with a strength that few had suspected. The orks were by foot and some of the men had formed a circle of riders around the houses that they had decided to protect, of whom most were hidden behind other houses. The first vague of assaliants mostly fell under their arrows, coming from above. But then in the yellow light of the fires, Nin saw them coming closer, they were groaning and yelling, there were so many it seemed to her that a black wall of hatred was walking towards to them. Just before she could distighuish them clearly, she stretched her hand out for a torch, raised it high and from the depth of her mind came a scream, a yell, in which she put all her energy, all her wrath, all her fear. Holding the torch in one hand, her sword in another, yelling, she ran towards the attackers, she did not think any more, she just knew that she wanted to survive this night to see the baby, that she wanted this village to be entire - the first place where none had asked questions and where she had been welcomed.
She was the first to run towards the assaliants, but a lot of others followed her, all of them screaming with the same wrath. The first few orcs she hit, she almost did not feel them, only from time to time she could feel their fell breath, see their cat-like eyes glimpse and before she knew her clothes were soaked with blood - the black blood of the orcs. To her surprise, none of the attackers seemed to aim to kill her - or any of the other women who had taken the defense of their village. In fact, what would have been a disadvantage in usual times, turned out to be an advantage, the mission of the orcs had been like so often lately to try grabbing some of the Rohirrim women for a purpose none was speaking about. Arms stretched out to try to reach her, but she fiercly defended herself. When she felt for the first time the touch of a hairy hand on her arm, tearing her away from the battlefield, she lifted her blade almost in a reflex, sinking it into the forearm of the creature, and with a swift movement cut the claw from the rest of the body - the blood was squirting out of the wound, covering her face, and the hand was still there, cut off, but still grasping at her. She threw it down, not even thinking about it.
The air of the village was filled with the moans of the orcs and their filthy language, and their black blades seemed to come right out of the night as if the night had made them. Only, they had not expected any resistance. They always attacked the villages at the fall of the night, when all was quiet and most people home and rarely had they been warned before. Thus, they could walk back to their lair in the shelter of the darkness. As their aim was not to kill, but to take, they were used to hide, grab and leave, but not to fight. Regarding only numbers, a victory against the huge troup of orcs seemed impossible. But between those fighting for their homes and families and those just obeying an order which did not make them sense for them, the difference was not made in the amount of strikes, but in their strength.
The battles took less than the night, even before dawn the last orcs were running back to whatever punishment would expect them form their master. Nin was almost in trance now, tired, dirty, covered with the blood of the fallen orcs, of her own wounds, and still weary after her illness. She had been close to Eolynd's house all the time, hearing her sometimes moan, sometimes scream of pain. Now, that the quiet had almost returned, another sound rose from the tiny wodden house - just before dawn, the sound of a little new tender yet strong voice. The voice of a newborn baby.
Nin was tottering, opening it, searching for something to hold on. Cealynd was standing there. « It's a girl, » she said « a beautiful, healthy girl, born in as much peace as anybody could have this night » She turned to Nienor-Niniel, watching the young woman, covered with blood, and heavily breathing. Then, in a sudden impulsion, she took Nin in her arms. « Thank you. » was all she said.
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Nichts Schöneres unter der Sonne als unter der Sonne zu sein.
(Ingeborg Bachmann)