A burning village in the eastern marches.
Entwash. Early Fall, 3017 of the Third Age.
''Healfdene! How many?'' Æschere, the horseman called, though not from a horse's back. The horseman stood upon ground wet by black blood and powdered by ash. His horse was nowhere in sight, so he stood on top of the embankment, hoping to see what his ears could not tell. The village was burning, ashes clouding the air and the people fleeing from the savagery made it all harder to hear Healfdene's course reply.
''Fourty, no fifty more! The blackened night air and chaos... I cannot tell difference between our own and the greenskins!'' cried Healfdene, a brown-haired Eorling from Stonedeans coughing from the smoke.
''Where is Hnæf?'' He quickly scanned the sullied streets strewn with bodies marred by their quarry. ''Where is my brother?''
''I saw him joining the Captain. Anfald Lord has given chase with a small company to slay the orcs that follow the refugees. Lad must be with him.'' replied the horseman. ''Hoist the shield now, we've got things to do with sword.''
To that, Æschere sprung from the ground like a bird and entered the village, unsheathing his sword as he went.
Healfdene ran his spear into the first orc he found upon reentering the village as flames danced with the grey shadows of the night.
All around them, their fellow comrades fought until last vile creature had been slain by sword, spear, axe or horse's hooves. 'Twas not far into the night yet. The heat of the fires flicked at what little skin shown on the men clad in mail. Their shining byrnie protected them under the Hunter's watchful eyes.
In the end, as was tradition of the éored, they assembled the bodies of the foul orcs to be piled and burned. Healfdene turned to nearest horseman and said ''Ecgwald, send word to Captain that is it safe for the villagers to return.'' The horseman nodded and left swiftly. Æschere's temperament began to fall, now with the excitement of the battle waning. He did his best to keep himself and the others occupied, for there was much to be done and saved. But his nerves wracked him. He felt restless as if some thought was gnawling on his heart. The Captain should have returned by now. Had something gone wrong?
At that, a horn sounded clear in the night. They turned to the north and saw men and horses rising over the hill up on the faint horizon. Their torches were lit and they drew nigh to village as if driving the unholy spirits off of the Eorling village.
''Anfald!'' He called ''My lord, what happened? Why is your arrival so late?'' His horse met up with the Captain along with the horsemen that followed.
''Boar's guts,'' the veteran Eorling spit into air, sucked in a deep breath, once again the bearded chin jutted and he began recounting the news, ''We were ambushed by a band of orcs awaiting us near the river bridge. They hid amongst the boulders until we passed, and then took us from behind. We lost three more, including a woman who was with child.'' his voice trailed off.
Æschere scanned the war-band, young Eorling warrior's eyes looking for one person, his brother. ''Hnæf, my lord. My young brother. Has he returned?''
The Captain didn't let his shoulders fall but his eyes fell downward before the man, ''He fell.''
Sky-blue eyes of Æschere glistened with somewhat akin to fury, he let a vague, crooked-grin crack in his face covered with black blood. 'Twas a smile of disbelief but with also fear. As the Captain gave a sorrowful pat to his shoulder, he felt a pain in the deep of his body-cave, albeit he uttered no words. The Captain retired to gather his things. The men separated to follow the command.
''Our need here is done. Ecgwald, gather a host of forty men. We ride for Snowbourne. The rest shall remain here and continue the repair. Mount up!''
Wyrd bið ful aræd!
to be continued...
All the artworks belong to Anke Eissmann — http://anke.edoras-art.de/anke_home.html
