Second Reflections of Squire Ifllwine



Reflections of Squire Ifllwine of Rohan, as muttered to himself by a campfire

Alweard is alive! The young man has some fight in him. I do not know if he dragged himself up the sheer-rock face to reach us, but he stumbled into the outpost sometime during the night. He had battled more than just the mountainside, apparently, for he limped and held onto his ribs as if they greatly pained him. Haeneth, the huntress, bade everyone give him space and rest as he healed, though I saw them talking quietly around their own fire more than once. Another visitor, Lady Aleid of Stangard, on her own journey east, offered her help, but Haeneth seemed protective of the lad. I am under the impression they have known each other a long while.

He did not return empty handed, either. It is true, apparently, that trolls keep hoards in their deep mountain caves. Alweard led the Riders to its mouth, and I watched as they slipped into its maw, one by one. When they emerged, what they pulled out...I have never seen such wealth. Bushels of it. Coins and goblets and silver plates and golden candle-stands and torcs the like the waelisc chiefs wear, only ancient...but the grandest bounty I witnessed being pulled from the hoard was Alweard’s prize—a kingly belt, gold plates the width of a woodsman’s palm riveted into bright leather, each panel a city or hold of the Mearc, and on the last and largest, Meduseld in all its glory. More eyes than just my own coveted it, but it was Alweard who led us to the spoils, and it was he that should earn the greatest treasure. 

We returned to camp, and with the help of the outpost sent the lion’s share of treasure back to Fréasburg, then settled in to rest before continuing on our road. Gamforth seems to be healing, as well, watched over by his wife Rosehildda when she is not out scouting the field. Ordruin, who was in a state since losing of his comrade, has been aiding the outpost in tasks more quickly than they can think to ask of him, and the scout Adriwyn is barely to be seen...I wonder if she is often off on her own, secret errands, or if perhaps she is avoiding me herself. I worry she has noticed me looking at her a little too long over my dice…

We are almost out of the mountains, and I do not know how much comfort scouts find in cities. Edoras is so close. I ask the Hornwatch Riders if they have been there, but they speak of riding down into the Kingstead as if it were a tiresome errand. For them it might be, delivering messages between the holds, but I cannot wait to gaze on the Golden Hall myself. We are soon to ride down out of the mountains to the gorge in the Grimsdale. I shall be happy to be out of the territory of trolls, for sure...

The Oathsworn prepare to enter the troll-cave.

We were sent by the Hornwatch to a camp folded into the valley. After our ordeal, most kept quiet and to themselves for the night we rested there. Alweard and Haeneth again spoke in whispers, and I would have thought they discussed the road, had not Rosehildda been tending to her husband, and had not their talks lasted well into the night. It is not a squire’s business, though, to eavesdrop on those who make the roads their home. Our tents were nestled close, though, and I could not help but overhear them talk of Baldor of old—how in his travels with his father he came upon Dunharrow. Hearing the name gave me shivers. No child in Fréasburg is ignorant of that place, or at least the shadow of it. I confess it frightened me, and so I listened more…

The huntress told of how the king’s son had changed in the months since stumbling upon the ancient pass, how he’d grown somber and pensive, sour at times, and how his friends no longer knew him. At last his father Brego, King, completed Meduseld and celebrated with a feast. The mead cup was passed and gifts were given, and Brego gave his eldest a belt to commemorate the founding of all of Rohan’s strongholds. Baldor thanked his father, but there was no mirth in him as the rest of the hall made merry, until the end of the feast. Then Baldor promised he would cross through the Paths that were barred him, alone, and return with deeds worthy of being set in gold. He did so, apparently, and left his squire to return with the tale, who said when he saw his lord last he had shed the gifted belt and sheath, and carried his sword aloft. All the Mearc awaited him, but Baldor did not return, and Brego died of grief.

It would have been a better story told around a campfire, not overheard whispered through a tent. My mood spoiled, I picked up and wandered the camp myself, hoping to find a game of dice on which to bet a bit of my new silver.

Whispers around a campfire in the Grimsdale.

I dreamt strangely of a dark stone on a hill—huge it was, like a ship had grounded on an island, and the sea had sunk so far back that all it left around were grassy hills. I was glad when we packed camp early. In the pre-dawn a guide brought us out of the valley and onto the West Road. I wondered why we did not take the road directly east, for I knew it led right to Edoras, but instead rounded the foothills and headed south to Grimslade. It had not been long since arriving that I learned why—Lord Thorvall joined us at last. A wide-grinning man, greying, with as hearty an appetite as his laugh. He showed strange affection for the huntress, putting his arm around her and even settling a kiss on her cheek. I wondered at a dalliance—after all, a man grows lonesome on the road, and Thorvall is known to have no wife—but it is not my place to conjure gossip about such things. 

We settled for breakfast in the outdoor tavern-yard. It is truly spring, here. The grass has grown fresh again and the river that runs through town is raucous with melted snow. Whatever chill had lingered has been chased away by the heat of the oven, already at work fixing lunch for the townsfolk. It was then another—Wrecca son of Wiglác, a former knight of Snowbourn—joined our company. He bore a gilded helm under an arm, and Lord Thorvall welcomed him with honor, and we all drank our last mead before a fresh taste in Edoras the following day. 

Edoras, it seemed, was not always to be a stop along our road to Cliving. The Lord, the huntress, and the orc-slayer conversed quickly which was the safer road, and the one through Edoras was chosen. Why a road that went anywhere other than the King’s city would be safer, I have no idea. I trust they chose the right one, though, and I am eager to gaze on Meduseld at last...

Orduin, Thorvall, and Alweard meet Wrecca of Snowbourn

I do not know if the mead in Edoras is simply stronger than the mead in Fréasburg, or that in my excitement I had drunk too much of it, but I barely remember the King’s city. In my memory I catch glimpses of the tavern, two-storied, lumber and tools stacked about, and a handsome lass who looked honey-colored herself, her hair and frock blending together in my haze. There were many faces, even more voices as the walls echoed laughter back, but I could not name a single one. I felt sick quite early, and I must have made it back to our camp, for I woke as we were packing, thankfully in my own bedroll. 

We did not stay to sight-see, but rode out to follow the road along the southern bank of the Snowbourn. I hear we cross it further east to head north to Entwade, though as I’ve learned on this journey, plans can change. 

I did see Meduseld, though from a distance and over my shoulder. We were east of it when the sun finally crested the city walls and illumined the hall at its peak. I don’t know what I had expected. They call it the Golden Hall. I guess I thought it would be plated in gold, like Alweard’s kingly belt, and the sun would catch it and light up the fields for miles. Its roof is thatch, though, like every mead-hall in the Mearc, and it merely went from a cool to warmer color in the drench of sunlight. 

It is perhaps best I do not remember last night, now. I am not sure I could take the disappointment up close. Eyes ahead, then, on the road east, up through the Entwade, and then...who knows?

Wrecca, Alweard, and Orduin soak in the firelight at Edoras’ Tavern.