The Maiden and the Star - Part Seven

Several hours passed. Arodiel bought bread and honey at a stall when she got hungry and ate them, sitting on a small wall near where the mule was tied up. Once or twice she tried to start a conversation with a townsperson, but they seemed quite uninterested in talking to a stranger.
When the sun started to ride low in the sky she started to worry. The man had not returned yet, nor had he sent word.
She walked around uncertainly, trying to spot him on the road or in the vale.

But it was not until after the sun had set that he returned into town, leading the horse. He looked tired. His shoulders were hanging and his eyes bloodshot.
"Are you fed?" He barely looked at Arodiel, turning to the mule and rummaging in its saddlebags. He also unslung the spear that was hanging by his side and hung it on the saddle.
"I used my money to buy bread." She looked worried. "Have I done wrong?"
"No... no." He shook his head. "Here. Get us food for the evening. We ride some more hours tonight, while the horses can see."
She took the offered money, unconvinced. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." He turned away brusquely.

He kept his sullen silence as they rode.
The night's camp was made at the edge of the swamp, a bleak affair on a spot of damp grass and frozen mud. For once she did not mind his silence. The second ride had been long and exhausting in the dark, the roads so gravelly and thin Grimm had to get off and lead the steeds one by one by the bridle. By the time they made camp she almost fell off the saddle by herself. She wrapped herself in the blankets and fell asleep immediately.
Morning dawned grey and cold. She shivered despite the warm furs, unwilling to wake. There was no fire.
Grimm was already awake, offering a meagre breakfast of biscuits and dried fruit. After she had swallowed it he helped her up on the mule again - not that she seemed to need much help any more. It did really seem like riding was another skill she had forgotten but her body remembered easily.
The road was even harder that day. After a while he led horse and mule off the road and deeper into the swamps, heading east.
She eyed him warily, wondering if she had done wrong.
"How of a song, Grimm?" She tried to sound cheerful, to return him to his usual cheer.
He grunted.
"Come on. Are you not on the road? Is not the wind in your hair?"
"Not now." He still sounded tired, despite the rest.
"Grimm." She looked at him worriedly, guessing a deeper reason to this new inhospitality. "Are you all right?"
He shook his head and unmounted, navigating a treacherous stretch of the swamp for the beasts. She sensed his concentration and held her tongue.
Towards evening, the ground became steadier again and finally opened into forested area. Grimm seemed just as relieved as herself by that, remounting and taking a bit of a rest on the horse instead of constantly eyeing his surroundings.
They passed a lumber camp and later, a village of Hobbits.
Grimm ignored both. "The people of this land dislike foreigners." he told her.
"Where shall we camp, then?"
"There is a miller I know who sometimes deals with... visitors. He does not mind us using his property for shelter in winter." He indicated a building ahead. Its dark crouching bulk turned, as they approached, indeed out to be a windmill, ancient and disused now, on the edge of the forest.
Grimm kicked open the warped door. Inside it was cold but dry and not too dusty. "Will you be all right?"
She nodded, unsure of what to say.
"Good." He returned outside to take care of the animals while she prepared a sleeping spot for herself and the man in a clean-looking corner.

The next morning, she woke up and the man was still asleep. He had come in late at night, stumbling into the darkness and going to sleep immediately.
Now, in the grey light streaming in as she opened the door, his face looked worryingly pale. She bent over him, warily touching his skin. It felt at the same time warm and clammy.
He stirred at the touch, opening his eyes. For a moment, his whole body changed and became tense - as a wild beast tensed to attack. She flinched, stumbling backward.
The moment passed.
"Ah, you startled me." He passed a large hand through his hair. "I... overslept?"
She looked at him. He was getting up slowly, unfolding his body carefully not to bump into the low roof of the Hobbit mill.
"The sun is already rising. I thought you may have wished to leave early. Are you all right?"
He grunted, peering out of the door. "Yes."
He set to work saddling and packing the mule. She noticed he was working slowly, favouring one arm. "Let me help you."
He shrugged but conceded her to steady the bales of fur and wares. As he reached out to tighten the last strap she thought to catch a glimpse of a dark stain on his fingers, starting below the sleeve and down the side of the hand..
He turned, removing his hand from her view, offering her the other hand to mount the mule.
"It is all right." She put a foot into the stirrup and swung her leg over. "I think I have it figured out by now."
He shrugged and turned. He still looked tired and feverish to her.
"Grimm. At least eat something." She held out the last of the bread she bought at the market to him, urging him to take it.
He shook his head, pulling himself onto the horse with some difficulty and urging it to start walking immediately.
The mule followed its master loyally, without her needing to command it.
"Grimm!"
He ignored her. After a while, they left the forest road and entered a path through a wide green meadow, lined by trees on its edges. The grass was bright even in this season, and riddled with rabbit holes. Despite its lushness it seemed wholly deserted of civilisation, a no-man's land between countries.
Crossing it took longer than she had expected. She could see the road winding on ahead until it vanished into a gap between the foothills. Looking at the man riding in front of her, she pointed it out.
Grimm did not seem to react. He sat slouched in his saddle, looking forward with unseeing eyes.
She called his name again. "Grimm - Grimm!"
He stirred, lost balance, attempting to keep himself straight on the unsaddled horse.
"I'm quite all right."
"You are clearly lying. You cannot even sit straight! Come, let us rest."
He did not answer, clinging to the horse's neck with his one hand. The other was hanging down, a dark liquid dripping from his fingers.
She pulled on the reins to bring the mule forward, reached out for the horse. But he aws already slipping, sliding from the horse to the ground and landing there with a thud.
His eyes were closed and his breath shallow. He made no attempt to get up again.