The Second Servant

"...and she came like a Fury, down from the north, and the land quailed at her coming" - Tome VII "The Legends of the Ironfists", Azanulimbar-dum II 2805

The sable horse bucks and tosses its head as Valdo brings it close to the drystone wall of the homestead. The young ranger also, steps down from the running board of the cart and walks forwards a little, in a relaxed and calm manner.

Eyeing the man before him warily, Valdo speaks up in a brusk manner: "We were ambushed by goblins and many of my men were slain before we drove them off. We have one man wounded who is in bad shape. We were wondering if you could look out for him until we return?"

Before the man replies, Lochan also speaks up:

"Mornin' good Master, forgive us but, as you said, we are far from the shelter of Buhr Criocha and seek aid from fair and sturdy folk". He pauses for a moment before continuing in a matter of fact tone: "As my people say 'The storm comes swiftly' but we have endured the trial. However, only three of us remain. As the Guardcaptain says, the third is sorely injured and in need of care. I have done the best I can for him with what little skill I possess but we dare not risk the return journey with him for his body is not equal to this test. Can you help this man?".

"Aye, I may be able to help him but you look almost as bad yourselves." He eyes the rents and torn aspect of their clothes and leathers. "Why do you plan t'leave in such a hurry?"

"We feel we must track the goblins to see where they are from. And would like to do so before dark falls again. Since goblins are foes to all men what say you to looking after my wounded man?" repeats Valdo, watching the man carefully.

The homesteader returns his gaze steadily and for a few moments no answer is given. Then, as if coming to a sudden decision, the man shrugs and turns, waving for the others to lower their weapons. From out of the main building come three women in light coloured skirts and shawls. They run forward as the big man opens the wooden gate wide to let Lochan drive the cart through. All the others gather around as the cart pulls up before the door of the main building where a large oak table and benches stand. Jumping down, Lochan goes to aid the semi-conscious militiaman being lifted from the cart by three of the other men.

Shortly, the women come forward with cloth and a large copper basin which they fill from a water pump over in the grass, scattering chickens and geese as they do so. The militiaman groans as the shaft of the goblin arrow is cleanly snapped in two with a swift flick of the wrists and both sections are drawn out neatly leaving a deep hole which the women quickly plug with soft muslin. Peering into the wound for a moment and pressing the raised flesh around it gently, the eldest woman, a middle-aged woman of fair features and curly brown hair falling to her waist, nods to Lochan: "It doesn't look too serious a wound. It should heal soon enough if kept clean. You did a good job."

Her husband humphs at the man on the table then turns to regard Valdo who still remains upon his horse nearby.
"It's true we have no truck with Goblins and like you, would care to rid these lands of 'em, but strange things walk under the stars at night and it pays to keep to oneself. We agree to look after him until this time again, when the sun has reached over yonder trees once more. If you do not return in that time, then I will assume that the Goblin's have finished the job and you will never return. After that, this man is on his own. But..." and to this the man holds up one gnarled finger, "I will not have dead men residing in my homestead above or beneath the earth. Either you find somewhere to bury your dead that is not on my land or you return to the village with them first. This is no cemetery." With this, he folds his arms and stands waiting for the Guardcaptain's response.

********

"Hold it right there little one, or your friend dies!"

The Hobbit halts his rapid flight into the nearby foliage and hunches up in fright, turning slowly towards the woman. The other one remains tense under her arm, not moving.

"Alright you two, start talking! Who are you and why did you let the Szreldor into Buhr Criocha? Speak quickly or I kill you and your next!"

Muffled by the woman holding his throat Billy exclaims:
"WE HAVEN'T HELPED THOSE AWFUL PEOPLE!!!"
"Oh no.... Please let me go...We have just escaped the town, we mean no one no harm."

Billy looks tearful but strains to get away from the woman. She holds on to him tightly, her blade wavering near his throat. He gives up.

"We are not criminals," he humpfs, "we are friendly folk who just ... hum," Billy glances at Raddish, "assisted the guards in the city when these horrible people attacked us."

Raddish, looking worried adds: "Don't harm us, madam! We are simple travellers, not spies! I'm Raddish Smallfold, an ambassador from the beautiful town of Rushy-meadow far to the south and we were only visiting your town. We were ..err... aiding the guard in finding out what were the noises over by the door! But we were completely surprised! They came from the door and chased us and the guards... For the life of Spring, please don't do us any harm!"

Raddish, nearly beside himself with fear, sobs and sighs, waiting for the woman to answer.

*********

The tall man known as Saelvach steps out into the street and glances
around for signs of activity. Satisfied that there is no immediate danger he strides purposefully down the wider street which runs past the guardhouse, heading back towards the inn.

An eerie calm has descended upon the village and as Saelvach nears his destination, he begins to see the first signs of villagers reappearing from their homes, faces pale with shock at the events they have been witness too this night. Two militia-men make their way slowly back to the barracks; the first, a Sergeant, is supporting his comrade who
has obviously suffered a wound to his leg. It has been hastily bandaged with some white cloth but a faint red stain is slowly seeping through. Neither man pays the tall man any heed as they pass.

Upon reaching the inn, Saelvach quickly surveys the extent of the damage. It appears that Balneg has been fortunate; much of the roof has been badly damaged by the blaze but the main structure of the building appears intact. Skill and hard labour will restore it to its former glory in time, he thinks.

Pushing upon the door of the inn, Saelvach steps inside. The strangers are assembled over one side of the commonroom and Galgwen is making herself busy attempting to straighten out the room to as it was before; placing chairs back on their feet and setting to cleaning the blood stains from the wooden floor with dried straw before it soaks in.

The gambler strides across the common room and out to the rear, ignoring the stares directed at him. He leaves the building and heads for the stables, spotting that the horses are loose in the yard as he does so.

Soon enough he returns, just as the hulking Northman, despite his injuries, is expressing his wish for revenge on the Szreldor and is looking around for any who wish to aid him in his task.

Gwalchmai sits up, swinging his sturdy legs off the table and raising his arms to test the new bandages. They hold well and not too tight.
The mercenary spits out a fragment of mossy herb from his mouth before addressing the group in the inn.

"Well, does anybody know what all that was about?...
Oops! I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Gwalchmai ... and be sure that I have nothing to do with what has happened. I came here from the North, hoping to find someone hiring. Instead I found revenge! This injury will cost the Szreldor dearly! Unfortunately, I can't beat the whole Szreldor force by myself. But at least if I find out what are their plans, be sure that I'll do my best to thwart them!".

"Very proudly said," says Tewo coming forward, offering his hand in greeting. "I am Tewo, son of Lerno of the Iron Hills and although I am no fighter, I have many years and wisdom to count it. Perhaps I can be of assistance in other ways in these difficult times. It is the least I can do to you all." He steps back to let another come forward.

Boldor appears to have been overtaken by exhaustion as the previous dose of alcohol has been burned from his system during the fighting.
He lets the others make fancy introductions for themselves as he reaches behind the bar. Pulling out a large tankard made of tin, Boldor waves to Galgwen who is dithering nearby. Her years of training as a bar-woman overrides any interest she might have in the discussion unfolding before her and she leaps to pour the Dwarf a frothing pint of ale.

Arekhel, having washed her hands and put away her needles and spare herbs, turns round towards Tewo, Gwalchmai and the others and says, sitting down:
"Well, since it is the time of presentations, let me introduce myself. My name's Arekhel. I just arrived in Buhr Criocha by chance and I wish I took another path! Do you know why this horde of idiots decided to attack a place like this?! What's the point of destroying everything systematically? They hardly took any booty, they just came, slaughtered the people and left! This world is really turning crazy!"

Arekhel's eyes go glassy as she gazes somewhere into the distance that only she can see. She continues to grumble, mostly to herself, in Elvish.

As the others continue their discussion, Boldor only half listens to the babbling woman before him as he drains his third tankard, a line of beer froth evaporating slowly from the beard over his upper lip. Suddenly, he butts in with a loud toast to his dead friend, the man named Morgral. "...a true friend, with a kind word for all."
The other patron's look round surprised at the outburst but Boldor continues his littany. "An honest and incorruptible man, you know lady. He was a man to look up to, that one. And those bastards took his life away from him. He never did me no harm, he was allright. All...right." The Dwarf lapses into silence as suddenly as he began, staring into the amber coloured liquid in his jug.

As the others finish their introductions, the tall elf limps from Gwalchmai's side. Apart from some slight scratches across his right cheek, the Elf's face is already almost fully healed. Arekhel smiles. "I am Heladil," he announces. He looks across at Gwalchmai, "Well fought and well said northerner. I agree. The Szeldor have raided this small hamlet for no known reason. I say we ask who we can and see if we can find the reason for this attack."
The burly Northman nods in assent, clearly pleased that at least someone shares his thoughts.

Another dwarf now steps forward, his long beard ever so slightly left and right across his belly. "Froin, Son of Dain of Durin's Line. I, the same as my friend over here," he points at Tewo, "hail from the Iron Hills. Excuse me for my outburst there, but I was not happy with the situation. But there is nothing we can do about that one for now. I have come seeking an audience with the Lord of Buhr Criochâ, Marhdricks."
<Froin becomes a little agitated at his mention of the Lord.>

Looking around at the people in the tavern, Froin's eyes loosen just a little. "It seems as if none here is having a good day. As for the Szreldor Army...I am no warrior but an engineer, although I have been known to use a crossbow with skill." Looking up at the bolt above the door that could have stopped the Szreldor. "Well, most of the time. I may not be much help, but with one more person we are bound to succeed in something." A smile comes across his face. "Now where is that bartender...I could use another ale."

"Welcome friend," shouts Boldor a little too loudly and slams his tankard onto the bartop. "Another for my friend here," he demands to Galgwen. She beams from ear to ear.

Saelvach approaches Boldor, who is rapidly downing his fourth frothing pint, and says in a low but clear voice: "have you asked if any of the names we were given are significant?"
As Boldor raises faintly bleary eyes towards him, the Gambler suddenly falters and reaches out to the bartop to hold himself from falling. He tries to speak but only a dry croaking comes out. Without asking further, he grabs what remains of Boldor's pint and drains it. "I...I think, I'm in trouble..." he says and sits down heavily.

********

Relg turns to the few women remaining where the battle took place and says, slightly bowing:
"You have fought exceptionally well today, although you certainly cannot call the battlefield your home. Your braveness shall never be forgotten. But now it is time to leave this behind and look for safe places to hide. Flee to your homes or seek better shelter out in the wood. I cannot say whether there are more Szreldor nearby but I cannot protect you further."

For a second he watches them go, then he kneels beside Coru, inspecting the man's injuries. His chest wound is oozing dark blood and Relg assumes that his comrade is in urgent need of treatment. Looking up he suddenly notices one of the women has remained. Before he can speak, she answers his question before he can utter it.

"I am Lorrelinde and yes, I can take your wounded warrior to somewhere he can receive treatment for that wound. If you can carry him, follow me."

As Relg drops into line behind this strange woman, he notices her massaging her wrists as if she had suffered rope burns. He realises that this woman, Lorrelinde, was the one tied to the Szreldor he had killed. After a moment he can't help but ask her.

"I wonder why you were the only woman with tied hands. Did you do any harm beforehand to make the Szreldor dogs consider you a threat?"

Without turning round, she replies:
"I, just stand out from other women unfortunately, that's all. Perhaps its my name but then, I didn't go quietly when they kicked in my door either. Ah, here we are. Bring him in here."

The woman gestures to a doorway which she pushes open before entering into the darkness beyond. A hand gestures from the interior and Relg doesn't wait to carry in the wounded man.

...
While the woman cares for Coru's injuries, Relg stands at one of the windows observing the part of the road which he can see from there.

<The house is situated in one of the side streets of the village and roughly half way towards the summit of the low hill upon which it stands.>

From time to time, the Gargath war-seeker moves to the other windows and the door to check the rest of the road. He notices the door has been forcibly opened from the outside recently. So far the woman's story seems true. With the growing daylight, the room in which they stand does not need any artificial light, only one candle on a rickety bedside table provides enough for Lorrelinde to work and Relg has the impression that she likes to keep the room dark and musty normally anyway. The light is not enough to throw shadows on the walls or tell any Szreldor on the outside that someone is inside. His shield leans against the wall beside the door and Relg carries his bow and one arrow in one hand, in case any of the enemy might approach the building.

Relg watches the woman for a while, neatly cleaning Coru's wounds while he sips from a water jug she offers him. Breaking the silence finally, he asks:
"You are well equipped with herbs and other medicine I see. It also seems that you know how to apply them."

"Yes, I suppose I do know a fair amount about such things," she answers cryptically. "I was taught by my mother and by her mother before her. The locals say that we have skills that only the Elves could know. I can't say much about that. I know what I know and am happy with it. It's why I live here in Buhr Criocha and why I shall be sorely needed before too long this day."

"You live alone? Aren't there enough men in this village to find one caring for a woman as brave as you are?"

She doesn't look up but he sees her smile. As she does so, it is as if the years fall away from her face to reveal a much yonger countenance. Relg is not sure how old this woman is but she certainly has the aura of wisdom beyond her years.

"I have been courted in the past but to no avail - for them. My work is my life and for that I am satisfied. Until I have taught another to a sufficient standard... perhaps then I shall settle and take a husband. You will find soon enough, warrior, that the men of this town hold a special fear of me. I am rumoured as a witch and a wyrd-woman but neither of these things are correct. What these men don't understand, they fear. It is a natural failing of men."

Relg bridles at this comment but then detects a hint of sarcasm in the woman's voice. She glances up with a twinkle in her eye, perhaps to check that he has understood. He smiles. She returns to bandage Coru's chest.

After a moment, Relg asks a further question: "I wonder if any resistance against the Szreldor has been organised. Do you have any idea where they could possibly meet. I have heard of the inn - is it far from here?"

"The inn is at the bottom of town. It is not far. If any organisation occurs it will be down to Mahrdricks, our Lord and his guards. The Watch-commander, Raigorn might well be mustering his men even as we speak. He is a good man and will demand retribution - if he still lives. Why do you ask?"

Relg suddenly becomes very taciturn and answers only: "They are my enemies," but after a few seconds adds: "They must be hunted down!"

Lorrelinde shrugs, apparently satisfied with the comment. At that moment, Coru groans and awakes as the woman applies a cold wet compress to his forehead.

The first impression that pervades the young warrior's mind when he wakes, is a strange and exotic smell of spices. As his nostrils follow the strangely flowing odour, his eyesight slowly returns until he becomes aware of his surroundings. His mouth is dry and he croaks as he tries to swallow but water suddenly trickles across them and smooths out the roughness in his throat. A figure is bending over him with a wooden bowl and the taste that accompanies the drink is sharply cold and refreshing. A voice comes from the figure above.

"Ah, the hero is awake. Do not fear young warrior, you are safe within the house of Lorrelinde".

"Wha..."

"You remember the women who you and your companion defended from the Szreldor? Well, I was one of them. I am somewhat skilled in the arts of healing therefore, and on the insistance of your warrior friend here, I feel it my duty to aid you in return."

"Relg?"

"You are safe, my friend. We are in the house of this woman. She has treated your wounds and you will be up again soon." Laying a hand on Corus shoulder he continues: "You have fought bravely today. I will tell the story of this battle of yours for a long time at the evening fires."

Lorrelinde speaks again as much to the Gargath war-seeker as to her patient. "Do not make him talk too much. He is still very weak and his body needs much rest if he is to recover soon. I know that he has far yet to travel, as do you, before you solve this mystery and both will need all the stamina and courage you possess. So rest now, the time for talking will come soon enough."

"I cannot see what you can lady but the wolf must always follow the deer. We cannot tarry long in this town when the Szreldor are making leagues away from us. What of the people we could not rescue? Should we leave them to their fate?"

"Ah, I cannot blame your motives warrior but I cannot either speak for those who have been lost. I know that they travel south towards Szrel Kain; you will know of it perhaps as Szrel Arkasa - in your Eastern tongue. As for the poor prisoners, it is up to our Lord, Mahrdricks to make the decision as I said. He will no doubt call a meeting very soon in the Council Hall."

The woman gets to her feet from where she has been kneeling beside the injured man, and Coru gets a first chance to look around the room.

It is small and square, with solid stone walls and a roof with darkly sooty beams crossing from above Coru's head to the window beyond his feet. Light filters through the half open shutters revealing wisps of fragrant smoke drifting from the coals inside an iron grate. The ceiling is hung with many strings of plants, bulbs, bunches of herbs and copper implements for cooking. A stone plinth runs along one wall and a shallow basin in it holds water from which Relg refills his flask. Coru's head falls back onto the feather-stuffed pillow as the smell of burning incenses makes his head feel light and his vision swims.

"Coru, you need much rest. Lorrelinde will care for you while I try to find out if there are others still wishing to fight the Szreldor. I will be back within two hours."

And with that, the war-seeker bids good day to the woman and steps out into the morning sunshine.