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Adventures of an Éored: Sins of the Father  by Katzilla

Adventures of an Éored: Sins of the Father


Chapter 15: To the Rescue


Note: Just some brief *casting notes* for your reading (I tend to imagine my stories like movies ;-)):

Éomer: A young Karl Urban.

Elfhelm: I always imagined him as a younger Stellan Skarsgard.

Bard: Chris Hemsworth (as I was rather impressed with him in THOR)

Arnhelm: An older Mads Mikkelsen.

Rest to follow ...


THE MOUNTAIN PATH

"What a rotten, steaming pile of warg-dung!"

"Béma's beard!"

"This cannot be true!"

But it was true: over the length of possibly fifty paces, a massive mud-slide had carved a deep chasm into the mountain's flank and taken the narrow path with it. All that remained was a steep, unstable slope that in the moonlight looked suspiciously like a shortcut to the halls of the warriors' ancestors, and the ten Rohirrim shifted uncomfortably in their saddles and exchanged dark glances.

"That is what I feared," Tolgor murmured to no one specifically, but as he met his captain's eyes, he already knew what Elfhelm's rule would be. Of course, there was no real question. Like the Mering, this was just another complication to be braved. Behind that chasm there was still at least one of their riders needing help.

"No matter what, we will have to cross it," Elfhelm, unsurprisingly, said, and to his satisfaction, he saw nothing but approval and acceptance in his comrades' expressions. Yes, it was a risk, but it was a necessary risk. "There is no other course of action thinkable. Yet perhaps not all of us need to cross, and of course we will need to leave behind our horses... and someone to guard them. We will only take along a few things we may need. Some provisions, water, blankets... bandages, so we'll be prepared for anything."

"I will cross first." It was almost insult that sparkled in Bard's eyes as he looked at the disaster before them. How dare the force of nature oppose them when they were out to rescue their fellow riders? Grinding his teeth because there was no one to take out on his accumulating frustration over the situation, the big warrior slid from the saddle. "Let's knot together our ropes, and I'll take them over. It should make the passage much easier for those who follow. Captain? Do I have your permission?" He looked at Elfhelm and received the reluctant nod he had hoped for. There was just no alternative, and the man from Aldburg was – despite his size – known for his sure-footedness in difficult terrain.

"Be careful, Bard," Tolgor warned as he handed him his rope. "The ground still looks loose." He received a grim smile that told him how much his younger brother-in-arms ached to do something more than to just follow an endlessly winding path in his captain's steps; to do something that counted. 'Béma have mercy on any foe he meets along the way; he's apt to go right through them!'

"Béolaf and Déor? You will stay here with the horses and wait for our return," Elfhelm decided as he swung out of the saddle. "We will signal once we found Arnhelm and, hopefully, Éomer, as well. You will hear from us should we need your help after all." Accepting one end of the rope from Bard, he slung it around the pommel of his saddle and clapped the younger warrior's shoulder: "Like Tolgor said: be careful on that slope. Even with that rope around you, you're a heavy burden. I'm not sure Éon could pull you up should you slip."

Bard's grin widened.

"Ah, but Captain, I was not aware you were riding a pony! What a brilliant disguise!"

Elfhelm snorted, satisfied to find his men still in good spirit even after these gruelling last two days. "Insult my horse again and you will see what this will get you! Now get moving, you Eastfold loudmouth!"


THE MOUNTAIN PATH – HIGHER UP

"Watch out, Éomer! Behind you!"

Alarmed by Arnhelm's warning, the young rider whirled around, and his raised blade deflected the stone that had been aimed for the back of his head. Yet two had already found him since the goblins had returned with their changed strategy, and while they had not drawn blood, they had newly awakened the pounding headache of the last night he had all but forgotten over the pressing requirements of their emergency.

After their chieftain's death, their attackers had retreated for a while, shocked and uncertain whether to proceed with the hunt or not, thus granting the two Rohirrim a short respite Éomer had used to look once again for Arnhelm's helmet, which had been lost in the rock-slide. Now he regretted not having searched for it more intensively while it had still been light, and of course, his frantic attempt to find it in the rubble was doomed in the darkness.

As he retrieved Arnhelm's arrow from the corpse of the goblin, Eomund's son had paused for a moment to take a closer look at their dead opponent despite its revolting stench. It was true that this thing bore some resemblance to an orc, from its dark leathern hide and misshaped form to the two rows of pointed fangs, but there were also differences, like the larger eyes and lighter build that told of its nature as a nocturnal scavenger. In any case, it was hideous, and the various bones and shabby fur it wore as clothing or armour did nothing to hide that fact. Shuddering, Éomer had pulled the arrow from its throat and trudged back to the scout to wait for the inevitable.

The pause Arnhelm's shot had bought them had not lasted for long though, and when the goblins returned, it had quickly become clear that they had decided to use the advantage of their greater numbers to the greatest effect: again they had fanned out to encircle the two warriors, always just staying out of reach of the bow and alternatingly making their move. As soon as Éomer lifted his sword to fend off the attack from one side, the goblins behind his back would move closer, forcing him to spin around and chase them away, keeping him alert and on his feet without respite. Threateningly, they had stabbed their crude knifes and spears in his direction without moving close enough to actually engage him or to provide a target... and then they had started the stone-throwing.

With dismay, Éomer had quickly realised that he was helpless against that primitive tactic. Whenever he turned to ward off the rocks from one side, a hail of stones would rain down on him from behind, and it were not only the hits to his head that seeped his strength. Although the stones were not large, they were thrown hard, and even through his mail shirt, each impact he was not able to avoid caused pain, bruised him and stiffened him and slowed him down. With growing desperation, Éomer felt how it grew harder and harder to lift his sword, or to move fast enough with the weight of his armour on him.

He had already been at the end of his strength when Arnhelm had found him that afternoon, and while the emergency after the rock slide had – for a while – chased away his fatigue with pure necessity, he was by now rapidly nearing the point of breakdown. What little food there had been in the scout's saddle bags had not restored his energy, and the perhaps two hours of rest before the attack had likewise been a far cry from sufficient after the hardships of the last days and nights. If the goblins kept to their current strategy, it was clear where this would end: the moment he lost his footing, falling over his own feet because of fatigue, the goblin hordes would be all over him. Once he was down, there would be no getting up.

And that moment drew inexorably closer. Five times Arnhelm's bow had sung, each time taking a life with deadly precision when the attackers had felt bold enough to make their move, but by now, the enemy had adapted their strategy to move in a way that kept Éomer between them and the deadly archer. Stones rained down on the scout, as well, and as blood streaked over his face from two fresh cuts on his cheek and brow, the experienced warrior realised that their chances dwindled with each passing moment, while the rescuing dawn lay still far beneath the horizon.

"Captain?" Éomer breathed hard as he once again spun on his heels to survey the situation, and the creatures behind him jumped back with a shriek.

"You're doing great, Éomer. Your father would be proud to see you now. It's perhaps only two more hours until dawn, then we'll be safe. Take heart!" Arnhelm knew what he was saying, even if he had attempted to make it sound positive... to make it sound possible.

Two more hours? Two more hours of this? A cold shudder raced down Éomer's spine as he contemplated the scout's words, but he was not granted much time. Another glance over his shoulder revealed three creatures almost within arm's reach from his back which hastily retreated as he turned toward them. Yet this time, Éomer decided to follow them. It was intuition, a brief twitch of his growing warrior's instincts that told him to reclaim respect in this uneven battle. Two quick steps brought him within range as the goblins screeched and threw themselves to the ground, and with satisfaction, the young warrior felt how his blade sliced through something soft. A pained hiss rewarded his boldness and he jumped forward to finish off the wounded beast as it crawled away from his steel as quickly as it could.

"Éomer, no! Stay here!"

But Arnhelm's words did not reach his apprentice, who – for the first time since the beginning of the attack– saw himself in the position to actually punish the enemy. There was already blood on his blade, now it was time to claim his first life.

"Éomer, come back!"

He slashed down, but incredibly, the goblin flung itself backwards with sudden agility, evading the strike... and drawing him even further away. Too late Éomer realised their plan, and a cold chill raced down his spine as he spun around and saw the horde of goblins jump toward his wounded brother-in-arms.

"No! Captain!" He ran back, but instead of retreating as before, the creatures only straightened and lifted their spears in anticipation of his charge, and even as he jumped at them with swinging sword, Éomer heard them moving up behind him, tightening the circle. Moving in for the kill. 'Béma, help us!'

Another goblin fell to the ground with a feathered arrow-end protruding from its chest, but now the enemy was all around them, a bulging dark mass of advancing bodies in which their luminous eyes glowed with a sick green hue. With sudden clarity, Éomer understood that this was the last sight he would ever be granted as the creatures hissed at him in unison. And yet the final attack came from behind. As he heard the shifting of rocks under a great weight behind his back, Éomer spun around with his sword ready, determined to take at least his first assailant with him. Viciously he stabbed the blade against the towering dark shape – and found his strike deflected with the bright sound of metal against metal.

"Éomer, no! It's me, Bard!"

Unable to comprehend, Éomer stared at the silhouette before him, and from the recoil, his sword dropped from his fingers. A moment later, the son of Eomund found himself pushed aside and on the ground as his brother-in-arms charged past him. Like a force of nature, Bard came upon the goblins, and in the sudden moonlight, his swinging blade appeared like bolts of lightning as it punished the enemy. Three fell in his first fierce onslaught, and with dismayed shrieks, the creatures turned around to flee when a sharp swishing sound reached Éomer's ears from behind. Four more goblins fell with arrows sticking out between their shoulders, then darkness swallowed the rest as they escaped into the night. For a moment, their panicked shrieks could still be heard in the distance before a heavy silence fell.

It was Arnhelm who first recovered from the sudden change of events.

"Bard? Elfhelm? Praised be the gods, you could not have arrived at a better time!" Sitting up with an effort, the older warrior watched as his comrades ascended the slope. To his left, Bard turned around, and the hard gaze that grazed him as the powerful warrior slowly walked back told Arnhelm all he needed to know about his fellow rider's disposition. He swallowed and fell silent, not certain what to expect.

"Are you all right? Éomer?" Coming to a halt before their stunned apprentice, Bard squatted down and, with a brief glance over Éomer's shoulder, acknowledged his captain's arrival before his measuring gaze fell on the young man's face.

"I am not sure," Éomer confessed, still disoriented by the sudden turn of events. "I suppose..." He received a grim smile and then hissed when his shoulder was painfully squeezed in admiration.

"You were a sight to behold fending off that scum, son of Eomund. I couldn't have done better in my first year. Now come, let me help you up. On your behind is not the position to greet your captain when he personally comes to your rescue." With one quick move, Bard pulled Éomer to his feet, and they turned around to face Elfhelm who had finally reached them and, to the younger man's embarrassment, threw his arms around his apprentice for an embrace that would not have shamed a bear.

"Éomer! In Eorl's name, never, never run away again, or I swear when we find you, I will wring your neck myself! That aside – I have never been granted a happier sight that of you here before me, on your own two feet! When we found those dead orcs by the river and your tracks leading up to the cliff, I was near despair. In my mind, I began to say farewell to my loved ones for I was certain that your uncle would cleave off my head if we returned to Edoras without you. Which reminds me..." With a last, keen glance at his recruit, a glance that showed endless relief over having found the young man alive and in well-enough condition, Elfhelm turned to the silently waiting scout behind them, and the smile dropped from his face as he became aware of Arnhelm's condition.

"How bad is it, Arnhelm?" He braced himself for the other man's answer, fully excepting that the rock had ground his old friend's bones to dust.

"The rocks keep me trapped, but hopefully, they haven't done much damage. I'm afraid I cannot tell; my legs are rather numb." The scout swallowed as he beheld the hostile glances the other warriors were giving over Elfhelm's shoulder. Bard especially regarded him with the same disdain he had held for the goblins as he spat on the ground and growled: "What a shame! It would have only been just to have you suffering for what you did to the boy! This whole situation is your fault!"

"I understand that. And I regret what I did!"

"And you should!"

"Not now, Bard!" Elfhelm said sharply and with a deep breath. "This whole matter will be thoroughly addressed, but now is not the time to do it! We will see that we get Arnhelm out from underneath the rocks and then make our way back to the éored as quickly as possible. Ís that understood?" His admonishment was met by a sullen look.

"Why not just leave him there? He deserves it."

"Bard!" Sparks seemed to fly from Elfhelm's eyes as the éored's leader straightened to his full height. "Béma knows I've had enough problems these past two days without you becoming another one! You will do as your commander tells you, or I swear you will get to know a side of me you didn't know existed! Am I making myself clear?"His gaze tore into the younger man's, and for the longest moment, the tension mounted as the two warriors regarded each other. Three years younger than his captain, Bard stood half a head taller than Elfhelm and had not received his byname "The Bear" for nothing. Combined with the legendary stubbornness of a true Rohir, it made the man from Aldburg a formidable opponent even for the most skilled of warriors. There were even rumours saying that Bard had once killed a Uruk-Hai with his bare hands.

For the eternity of ten heartbeats, a row between the two riders seemed inevitable to Éomer, but at last, the basic rules among the Armed Forces seemed to dawn on Bard through the red curtain of his anger. Elfhelm was his captain, the decisions to make and responsibility for them were his. He could not very well challenge his commanding officer without serious consequences. The dangerous glint in his eyes faded, until at last, the giant from Aldburg lowered his gaze and allowed his comrades to breathe again with relief.

"Aye, Captain. I forgot my place, and for that, I apologise...to you. Not to him!" A quick glance at Arnhelm to let the scout that this was not over.

Would this accursed night ever end? With a deep sigh, Elfhelm indicated his brother-in-arms to step over to his side.

"We will speak about this later, Bard. When we're all rested, and tempers have cooled. For now, I need you to push against this rock when I tell you to, but first, we must build some kind of ramp, or we might crush Arnhelm's bones after all. Tolgor, help me with this! Éomer, Brytta, Gerolf, you keep an eye on our surroundings. I do not believe that the goblins will return, but there's no reason to become careless now."






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