Heartha rode back into the village with a cursory wave and a nod to the guards on the gate. Her white horse looked almost fresh. No long, hard ride from Helm’s Deep then, one could easily suppose. Neither did the smith herself look overly drawn or travel weary.
The guards nodded back at the well recognised face, and waved her on.
“Anything I should know?” she asked as she slowed her pace to a trot.
“The guard she was level with rolled his eyes. The one she had just passed said “Lots happening, Master Smith, but you had best ask at the Garrison.”
She sighed, now allowing her stallion to walk the rest of the way up the hill to the path to the forge and rest. He knew well where he was going.
“Heartha!” Ymma gave her greeting as she overtook the rider, holding her skirts to one side so she could jostle past. The store keeper was carrying a large dish of what looked like honey cakes, but which smelt like they had added spices.
“Where are you so eager to get to my friend?” Heartha suspected someone was ailing a little, either at the Dragon or one of the houses or farms beyond, to warrant such a delicacy and such urgency. Didn’t all of Bancross know that Ymma’s honey cakes were the best?
“To the Roaring Dragon.” Ymma did not slow her pace, but she did take one of her cakes and hold it up in offering to the smith, who had to nudge her mount back to a trot to keep up.
“Thank you!”
“You are welcome. But I must press ahead. The Inn has been closed these past three days. No sign of any of the family. I fear they may all have sickened with something.”
Taking a bite of the honey cake, which must surely be as sustaining as any of the elven bread the legends spoke of, Heartha nodded. “I will catch up soon. If there is any fever or markings on them,” she called as soon as she had swallowed. “Best let the Captain know as soon as possible. I think Bancross has enough to deal with without a disease spreading. Let’s hope it is no more than a sprain or two, eh?”
And with that Heatha turned down to the barricades, raising a hand in greeting to the guards there, and then placing the remains of her cake to her mouth, while Ymma continued uphill.
As she drew up in front of the armoury and dismounted, a stable hand hurried forward to lead her horse to the yard, to food and water and a good rest. The master smith pushed open the doors and strode back into her favoured domain.
There was no sign of Ethel, nor of her cousin,Thilwend, but Heard was working away on repairing a standard sword. He stopped and turned to greet her.
“Welcome back,” he stated, a questioning smile on his bright face.
“I don’t know about that. One of the guards tells me there has been lots happening since I was away, and I see Ymma racing to the Dragon saying the place has been shut. Anything I should know about the Garrison before I take off my cloak and riding gloves?” Heartha removed her gloves none-the-less, and cast a critical eye around the forge. It was in a well-kept state.
“Weapons. You have been restoring weapons? Making new swords too?”
Heard tilted his head a moment. “I was going to take Agnes to the Dragon tonight. Closed you say? Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen Hild or her family for a few days.” He stopped what he was doing.
Heartha nodded for him to continue. “The metal cools. And I asked about weapons.”
Taking up his smithing hammer, Heard paused to focus for a fraction of a minute. “Aye, Master Smith. There have been more men joining the guards. Most already have weapons, but not all are in the best of conditions.” He raised both brows, but did not falter in his blows. “The sergeant will be able to tell you more than I, but it seems to me we are preparing for a bit of a battle.”
Heartha leant back against the stone wall. Her hand had been raised to unfasten her cloak, but she halted. For a moment her expression appeared drawn.
“You are going then? To Helm’s Deep?”
The Master Smith nodded.
With a deep nigh despondent sigh, Hearrd continued his work. “How soon do I...we lose you?”
The smith understood what her assistant was telling her. It pained her too, but she could not alter her course.
“Soon. A few days. While I am here I will give you a hand with the swords. I can’t have it said I left the Garrison short in a time of need. There is trouble in various parts of the Mark, it seems. Brigands, dissatisfied rogues and villains, Dunlendings in small numbers. Even Stoke suffered a small attack recently. Damn it that Bancross may be threatened just as I move to Helm’s Deep.”
Neither smith got another word in, as the heavy door opened a little and Ymma popped her head round the corner. Her normally cheerful face was tinged with concern. She still had the cakes.
“No Thilwend? I must speak to someone.” the woman said. “The Dragon is shut alright, shut and bolted, but all the horses and the wagon are gone. It looks as if they have all left.”
