When I awoke in the Rusty Barge, tucked away in a corner no one could see. My head rang like the hammers of Dain’s smithy under the mountain. My eyes were gummed together and my mouth tasted of sawdust and grog. As strange taverns go this one wasn’t so bad, well, not as bad as some others I have woken in. Although the body by the front door and the blood on the bar left something to be desired but the tavern itself was homelike and warm, then I remembered. The hammers in my head gave way to the memories of the day before. The horrors of the fire. The escape of Mans. The death of Caine, poor Nik and poor me. Poor Eduwiges of Faldham whose perception of the past had been ripped asunder by the words of Ordan, founding member of the blood eye cult. The cult I had sworn to destroy. The one who had brought such pain to my life and murdered my father. The cult of robbers and thieves who had stripped Rohan of much of its strength and according to Ordan, my parents were active members of.
Is it any wonder I lost my mind to the grog? To shut out the information which had come too soon and too fast? Of course, Ordan being involved with a cult of Angmar cast doubt on his tale but too much of it rang true to be completely false. My mother, Rowenna, who died when I was a small girl, a cutpurse and thief? My father, Alfara, called doorknocker, thief of the armories of Rohan? My father rode with the Elfgard of Faldham. I know this to be true because I rode with him. The clues my father left after his death showed he was trying to uncover the thefts of arms and he was killed for it by the thugs of Thunar, leader of the blood eye cult in Rohan. My father was avenged when my Lethy slew Thunar with an arrow through his eye. My father was buried with honor in the mounds behind Faldham. Did not Simbelmyne grow upon his grave? A sign of worthiness among our people?
I stood up off of the floor where I had passed out the night before. The bruises on my body radiated into my skull and my muscles were not happy with the movement. Luckily, my friends had left well enough alone and placed no prankish signs on me as they did before at the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree-town. I raised my arms over my head in a stretch and my shoulders popped as they were woken up. I walked behind the bar and poured myself a hair of the dog to focus my mind and rid myself of the headache. My chest throbbed from where I had been burned the day before by the grassfire inadvertently started by Addie. If it were not for that strange old man Leon, Addie, Nik and I would have been roasted to a cinder. I must seek him out today and thank him for saving us.
I walked outside with my Ale. I took a sip, sloshed it around in my mouth and spit it on the ground. Then took a good draught and swallowed it. Say what you want about Linhir, the ale is superb and it stung the back of my throat as it went down. I needed to see Xanderian. She alone could help make sense of everything Ordan had told me. The biggest shock of all was that my father had brokered a deal for his thieves with Erech, Erech! The mage who had killed Xanderian and almost killed Addie and Nethrida.Yes, Xan was somehow saved but he killed her nonetheless with a dagger to the throat. Yes, I needed to see my Lethy. I needed her arms around me and her ears to listen. Her and Calidis had been away from us for far too long.
I walked into the square of Linhir. The bright morning sun forced me to squint as I approached the fountain. I sipped at the ale and considered dunking my head in there again. No, a proper bath is what I needed, with hot water, soap and a good rinse. I felt filthy and from the news I had received, dirty as well. I drank my ale, closed my eyes to feel the sun on my face and listened to the trickle of the fountain in my ears. I started thinking back to when I was a child. I needed to sift through my memories to see if there could be any truths or hints to what Ordan had told me. The town was waking up. Workers came out and started repairing the damage to Linhir from the fight. Folks were setting up their goods at the market and the sound of draft animals and horses clopped on the street. The people wandered around like they had woken from a bad dream. I suppose they had.
My mother was a pretty woman with flaxen hair like my own. I remembered her sweet face as only a child can. I can hear her soft lullabies lulling me to sleep. I recall a skinned knee and her kisses. There are memories of her and my father together, smiles and laughter filled our house. Strangely, I remember her teaching me strange exercises for my hands. Finger to finger I would touch them, or spinning sticks like a game. ‘Thats a girl, my darling Edu, thats a girl.’
I could not remember much more. Try as I might. Just a hazy idea of a wonderful presence; the smell of perfume, the magic of her laughter, and a soft touch.Then, one day, she was gone. I remember her coughing and looking pale. My father was frightened and worried. Strange people came and went in our home. I recall being shoved aside as the women of the village were in and out and then suddenly stillness. My father’s tears. Him saying his Rowenna was gone forever. I remember him telling me that Bema had called mother to hunt with him. My heart ached. I remember crying out for her and then, nothing. I used to come down the stairs of our small holding to find my father, deep in his cups, passed out, head lying on the dining table.
The next memories I have are of being with my father constantly. He would take me with him to inspect the eored. King Theodred had him seeing to the defenses of the Eastemnet. He would line the horse and riders up and troop the line. When I was little, the threat of war was slight. The orcs and dunlendings did not raid past the borders and the riders were all about the Eastemnet. I remember pointed spears, gleaming helms and sharp swords! There were colorful banners and lots of pageantry. Riders practicing with their bows while mounted. The earth churned by hooves! I wanted to be one of them so badly! I had a pony I would ride every day. The Elfgard adopted me as sort of a mascot or good luck charm. I wore boy's clothes and my pale hair flowed down my back. I had a wooden sword and a small bow I would practice with every day.
Dad also saw to my education. He taught me the history of our people, of Eorl the young and Cirion of Gondor, Fram the bold who slew Scatha the worm and Brego who built the hall at Meduseld. He taught me of a wider world, the history of Gondor, the different types of elves and even the strange Holbytla and skinchangers. To a wide eyed little girl these stories seemed like fairy tales! Who would have thought that someday, I would live with the elves, feast with the halflings and fight with the beornings!
As I grew into maturity I trained just as the sons of the Elfgard did. There were no other girls my age in Faldham. They wrestled and fought with me just like I was a boy. Practice swords smashed fingers, eyes were gouged and backsides ached from the tumbles from horses. My father did the best he could. Instead of teaching me the ways of the court at Meduseld, he trained me like a son. What did he know of braids, bangles and girlish things? My father’s maid would watch me when he had to go far afield. Esme was her name. What my father lacked she taught. Esme had been some kind of highborn banished to the outposts for some slight. I learned my letters and manners from her, when I would listen. When I grew into adolescence she was the one who taught me about my menses and how to cope. When, to my horror, my breasts bloomed she showed me how to swaddle them and how to ride without injuring myself. Boys and men started looking at me strangely so my green eyes would flash, I began cracking my knuckles and smacking the ones who ogled or made comments.
Everyday I practiced with the sword. A real one by now. I had my own bow and my own mount. I was the best shot with a bow from horseback and the with a sword in Faldham. I could fight with a broadsword or the greater two handed blade. My shoulders grew broad and my legs heavily muscled from guiding horses with my knees. My curves never went away despite my muscles growing, although I did become quite bow-legged from practically living on a horse. I could turn to the back of the steed at full gallop and hit a target with my bow at fifty yards. Gradually, when my father was away, I would sneak off to ride with the Elfgard. I killed my first orc at fourteen and my first bandit soon after. I grew arrogant and full of myself. Father and I began having great fights. I knew it all and he knew nothing as far as I was concerned. I could best him with a sword and did I not deserve to ride with the Elfgard? Nevermind they had not invited me as they would later. I was a fierce shield-maiden and nothing would gainsay me. I know now he was worried for me. I was all he had left.
One day, Esme vanished while riding back from one of the fairs that occasionally made their way through Rohan. Merchants and traders from all over would sell all types of wares from furs to weapons to produce. She had gone to purchase cloth and honey for our larder. They found her horse dead on the path back to Faldham from the fair. I had saddled up on Oenone, my horse with my lance, bow and sword ready to seek out who had done this and my father stopped me from going. My helm shined, my weapons sharp. I wanted revenge. We had a terrible row. I said some horrible vicious things to him. I named him coward, and he named me a selfish wastrel who knew nothing of the world. I last saw him riding through the gates with Elfgard. He turned back to look at me with a sad look on his face. Of Esme? I never learned what happened to her because that night, before they returned, the month before my sixteenth birthday I packed my gear and left.
I never saw him alive again.
