For the Love of a Maia
For the Love of a Maia
Chapter 10: The Waiting
A story by Sienna Dawn.
Pairing: Haldir/OFC Heterosexual
Rating: NC17 for sexualitySummary: The Valar send Haldir to Arda in order to bring a stranded Maia back to Valinor. When he arrives, the possibility of civil war looms large. Will the Maia forsake Middle Earth and return to Valinor? A period romance set against the backdrop of Norman England.
Disclaimer: Based on characters from The Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien, (used here without permission), as well as historical events which occurred in York, England, 1173-1175 AD, during the reign of Henry II. Copyright remains with JRR Tolkien. For entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this work. All original characters are the creation of Sienna Dawn.
Chapter 10 - The Waiting
Wyat was rushed to the Healing House, his inert form placed on a straw pallet. His wounds were determined to be serious in the extreme, but not often fatal. It was the enormous amount of blood loss which had contributed to his fragile state.
Sir Edmund followed a grim-faced Robert into the Healing House, locating the youth and turning to the grey-haired woman whose job it was to tend for the sick and injured of Anstig Mote.
"What is it to be, then, good Meg?" Asked Robert.
The small woman turned to him. She looked at Wyat, lying deathly pale upon the pallet and she handed a bunch of dried mallow to one of her two daughters, who also served as Healers. Meg frowned as she came closer to the pallet. Her steady hand reached for Wyat's forearm to feel for his body temperature.
"My Lord," she began, a worried tone in her voice, "the boy's fate rests solely in God's hands, for I have done for him all I know to do." She walked toward the edge of the pallet. "The fatal blow came to the back of the chest. Though the arrow was taken out, it should have been left 'til he reached us, for it staunched the flow of blood." Meg's eyes took in Wyat's form once more before she raised her eyes to her Lord. "I've bathed, cleaned and poulticed the wounds, but I cannot give him back the blood he has lost. If he survives the night, then we can begin to given him strong broths and teas to reconstitute his strength. As it is now, I cannot say." She looked back to Wyat.
Edmund had heard enough. He knew that if there was doubt in Meg's mind, then the boy's fate was sealed. "Send for the priest and at least if he regains some consciousness he may be shriven before his soul leaves the world to the halls of his ancestors." He turned to leave the chamber, followed by Robert.
Meg nodded and replied, "Aye, Sir Edmund, I will send for the Father."
Both men exited the Healing House and stopped to draw a lungful of air. Neither knew what to say, for the loss of Wyat Fitzwalter at the hands of Almeric Atteford was an act of war. They both knew the Northern Barons would demand retribution for it. Yet, they also knew they had no proof the attackers were in service to Almeric for the arrows pulled from the boy's back and steed's leg held no identifying colors. This was usually the sign of an assassin or mercenary.
Edmund placed his large hands on his hips and then looked about him. The entire courtyard of Anstig Mote was still in the midst of preparing for attack. He looked at his son. "As much as he may despise us for this," Edmund began, "send word to Ulric that the Fitzwalter heir lies dying within the Mote."
"And what of Lady Anysse? She is his sister." Robert reminded his father.
"Aye,I know it." Edmund replied bitterly, " 'tis a hard blow to deliver, and I wont that it should be Ulric who tells her. He is now her husband."
Robert strode off toward the House, in minutes climbing the stairway to the upper chambers. Following a narrow corridor he stopped before a massive wooden door which he knew was Ulric's chamber. On the other side of the chamber sat the customary witnesses to the marriage act, one man and one woman. Both stood at Robert's approach.
"There's been no sound from within," the man volunteered.
Robert faced the door and then knocked loudly, "Ulric!" he called in a strong voice.
Inside the chamber, the couple had long discarded their clothing and now lay in a deep and langorous kiss. Anysse was spread-eagled on the bed, Ulric's hard body above her, and she returned his kisses with the same abandon he used to caress and pinch her swollen breasts and taut nipples. So deep were they in the throes of their passion that the banging upon the outer door seemed as if a distant echo of a memory long-buried.
It was Ulric who registered the sound of his name, called urgently by a familiar voice. Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth away from Anysse's lips, her groans of protest loud.
Sitting up, Ulric listened. It was Robert! "The devil take him!" Ulric muttered as Anysse sat up behind Ulric.
""Tis your cousin, is it not?" She asked, drawing the sheet to cover her bared breasts.
Ulric did not answer his wife's question, but instead, swung his legs to the floor and walked to the door. Without thought that he was still completely nude, Ulric drew wide the chamber door and frowned at the sight of his tall cousin.
"Robert, what mischief do you think to play?" Ulric nearly roared at Robert, the evidence of his arousal still painfully evident.
Robert gave Ulric a small grin, "Could not be helped, cousin. We have need of you at the Healing Hall."
Ulric frowned, "The Healing Hall?" Behind him he heard Anysse gasp.
"Aye," said Robert, his eyes suddenly growing dark and somber, "dress quickly Ulric," and here he dropped his voice so Anysse could not hear, "ill news comes to Anstig Mote. The lad Wyat Fitzgerald lies dying within our walls."
Ulric blanched. Wyat? Nodding, he said, "By God's word!" He met Robert's clear gaze. "I will come in but a moment." With that he closed the door and turned to Anysse.
"What is it, Ulric? What evil stirs now? Is is Almeric? Has he come to the Mote?"
Ulric stared at his wife. How to tell her?
"Come, sweeting," Ulric answered, sitting on the bed, holding his arm out for Anysse. Quickly, she scooted into his arms and dropped her head onto his bare chest, delighting in his maleness, feeling cold now that their lovemaking had been interrupted. She thought back to the sensations Ulric brought to her body -- the suckling, teasing, licking and kissing. She heard him speak and felt his chest expand in a great, deep sigh. Something terrible had happened. Raising her head, Anysse studied Ulric's face.
"Tell me, husband," she said softly. "What is amiss?"
With compassion in his eyes, Ulric told her the little he knew.
From outside the chamber, the man and woman sitting upon the bench heard a great wail of sorrow, followed by a cry of "My poor brother!" and then much bitter weeping.
~*~*~*~*~
Once the gate guards of Rowan Bold had recognized Elyen, she and Haldir were granted swift entrance. As they walked toward the open-air courtyard of the Bold, Haldir could see that already there was an air of quiet readiness and preparation. Gone was the boisterous atmosphere of days before. In its place an air of grim determination registered on the faces of all they passed. The kitchens were now closed. The smithy had roared into life and the mighty sound of anvil hammering against soft steel echoed in the silent courtyard. The livestock had all been ushered inside barns and sheds and even they too suffered a nervous stillness. Men garbed in bright armor and chain mail passed them on the way to whatever errands pressed them. Old and young alike, their faces betrayed no emotion other than to safeguard their home and loved ones.
As Elyen hurriedly walked ahead of him, Haldir looked about, his eyes raising to the Tower of the Bold. There he counted over thirty archers. He frowned and half turned toward the gatehouse at the entrance where he saw a row of horses and oxen being led inside the Bold's main gate. He saw no other soldiers about and wondered where they may be.
Taking a swift step closer to Elyen, Haldir spoke. "This house does not look well fortified for I see no other defenses save those within the Tower hold."
Elyen glanced at the Tower and without breaking stride she replied. "The knights' barracks are situated behind the Bold. Did you not see them when you first arrived?" She raised her arm in salute as a group of heavily armed knights spilled out of the main house. "Hail, Sir Hugh!"
Haldir did not have time to make comment to Elyen's reply but he realized that the bustling hive of activity on the first day of his arrival had indeed shown him the many devices within reach of this house's defenses. Why the knights had not been deployed to the front of Rowan Bold's arched gatehouse was a thing which caused Haldir much concern. He trained his eyes on the imposing figure of Hugh Malet, who abruptly changed direction and was headed toward them. His pace was brisk and sure.
"Ah, Lady," he began, his intelligent eyes glancing toward Haldir in undisguised suspicion. "How come you here?" He waved to a small enclave of knights who were directing a larger group of men. "Those are not for the front defenses!" Sir Hugh made to turn, half bowing to Elyen, but she stayed him with a quick hand to his arm.
"Sir Hugh!" Exclaimed Elyen, "where is Sir Godfrey?"
"Within the house, my Lady," He shot Haldir a hostile glare, "we've had a visit from Almeric Atteford. He bids us 'till Lammastide 'ere he attacks unless the Lady Anysse is handed over." Sir Hugh's hand came to rest upon the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Know you that the Lady was taken on the road to Sempringham?" But his question sounded more like an accusation, one which Elyen was ready for.
"Aye, I know of it, Sir Hugh." Elyen was not willing to discuss the issue with Sir Hugh at the moment and so she released him and gathered her cloak about her. "I will seek Sir Godfrey." She turned and gave Haldir a meaningful look, one the elf understood but was loath to acknowledge for the last thing Haldir wanted was to trade wits with Hugh Malet.
Yet the Maia set off quickly for the house as a group of foot soldiers appeared from around the west side of the Bold and half sprinted toward the main gatehouse.
Haldir realized Sir Hugh was still watching him and he turned to the man. "I will lend my services for whatever use you may have."
Sir Hugh considered the offer and boldly appraised Haldir and rested his eyes upon Haldir's great bow. "Aye, I accept your offer. I can always make good use of another archer." He turned and said, "Come with me."
Haldir did not reply but instead follow the man. In a short moment they had rounded toward the back of the house and Haldir stopped in his tracks, momentarily halting to take in the sight before him.
Behind the great house, within the glade which spanned nearly a league and led toward the thick wood where he had at first hidden, the knights, archers and footment of Rowan Bold made camp. Here they had set up tents, small campfires, make-shift infirmaries and much more. The great warhorses were grouped within a large enclosure which was marked off by rope and wooden markers driven deeply into the ground. Squires and pages scurried about, some carrying parchments, others buckets and pails, some carrying weapons. The bustling activity told Haldir these Atani were battle-seasoned and used to the sudden call to arms. But their number was fewer than four hundred and this worried Haldir greatly.
Sir Hugh had begun to descend toward the camp and halted when he realized Haldir was not close at his heels. Turning he saw the blonde warrior surveying the encampment and the look of concern on Haldir's face inexplicably angered Malet.
"Come!" He crossly called out and saw Haldir quickly sprint toward him. Haldir's quick eyes glanced at Sir Hugh but he said nothing.
Again Sir Hugh led Haldir and in minutes they had entered the bustling hive of activity. Still Sir Hugh walked resolutely forward, leading Haldir toward a large tent above which flew a red and gold standard. Its chevron was the royal rearing lion.
Drawing the flap aside, Sir Hugh motioned for Haldir to enter. Ducking his head, Haldir slipped inside the tent. Sir Hugh followed close behind him.
The tent was empty but it was obviously set up to be Sir Hugh's command quarters. Everywhere there were tables, documents, weapons and maps. A small cot placed against a far corner signaled Sir Hugh's sleeping arrangement.
Haldir stopped and turned to Sir Hugh. The man walked around Haldir and sat heavily upon a small stool. He motioned for Haldir to sit.
Looking around him, Haldir selected a low bench placed before a rectangular table. He unslung his bow and held it before him, close to his chest as he quietly waited for Sir Hugh to speak.
The man observed Haldir for a moment and then spoke. "What know you of battle?"
Haldir's eyebrows shot up. "What do you wish me to say?"
Sir Hugh snorted and leaned toward Haldir. "I've no time for fancy words." His eyes scrutinized Haldir's bow. "I well recall the Lady Elyen's words 'pon the day of your arrival. Many pitched battles have you fought, if the Lady's word be true, and I've never known her to utter a falsehood."
Haldir relaxed somewhat. "I've seen my fair share."
Sir Hugh pursed his lips. "How many under your command?"
Haldir replied carefully, remembering then Elyen's words that this man would be hard to win over. "Near ten thousand." His voice was light but he knew Sir Hugh still had doubts.
Yet the man was indeed impressed though he said nothing. "Then ye shall prove it. Come" Sir Hugh stood and Haldir did likewise. Quickly the man turned and pushed aside the heavy drape which served as a doorway to the tent.
Haldir followed Sir Hugh out of the tent and past numerous campfires, away from the encampment. As he followed the man, Haldir surveyed the situation. Grim-faced he asked, "How is this house defended?"
Sir Hugh stopped and turned to Haldir and crossed his arms. "Yonder," he pointed toward the Bold, "is Rowan Bold" he began. 'Twas built atop this high mound which slopes away on all sides." He gestured toward the gently rolling grassland which surrounded the house. "The moat spans twenty, mayhap thirty feet, and as you see surrounds the entire area." Sir Hugh turned to Haldir and saw the elf was observing the area with a calculating and experienced eye. He continued. "The moat can only be crossed from the main gatehouse, and at the rear." Haldir turned around as Sir Hugh pointed. Haldir could see the rear gatehouse, and realized it was a smaller duplicate of the main entrance.
"How are the gatehouses defended?" Haldir suddenly.
Sir Hugh looked over to the gatehouses. From behind them came the pungent odor of burning wood and Sir Hugh turned to see that the tanner was busily stoking a large fire. He knew this would be used to sit a large cauldron into which would be boiled the many leather strips used as armour for the peasant staff. He turned his attention away from the tanner's task and answered Haldir.
"Atop the main gatehouse are built several hidding holes called murder holes. From here we can drop hot sand or boiling oil on the heads of those who try to bring down the gate." He pointed and Haldir looked. He could easily see that already several soldiers crouched within the well concealed murder holes.
"The rear gatehouse also has these openings?" Haldir asked, loath to call them as the man had: murder holes.
Sir Hugh shook his head and crossed his arms again. "Nay, the rear gatehouse is too small to place a man over it. Most likely it would collapse under the weight of anything smaller than a squirrel."
Haldir pursed his lips. That was very bad news. He turned to look at Rowan Bold itself and then back to the rear gatehouse. "Why was it so built?" He turned his gray eyes onto the man.
Sir Hugh shrugged. "Most likely because at the time the Lords of Rowan Bold had no thought as to siege ever tainting their lands." He looked at Haldir with a near sardonic expression. "When I was a boy all of the Lords of the northern lands vowed allegiance and so not much was done in the way of defenses." He saw Haldir's shocked expression and smiled sourly. "Aye, I know," he added, " tis inexcusable. But this is what I contend with each day."
Haldir nodded. "You must give thought that attack may come from the rear and not from the front." He studied the forest beyond. "You may need to erect a barrier between this house and the enemy."
Sir Hugh frowned. "I agree. I've given it some thought as well." Like Haldir he studied the woods beyond the rear gatehouse. "We might need to set the woods alight."
Concealing his distaste, for Haldir was a Galadhrim and the woods were his home, he instead suggested, "Nay, do not burn the woods for they are your safety net. Make a line of fire before you reach the woods. Keep it well banked and with care you can maintain its fires without causing damage to the woods beyond."
Sir Hugh was intrigued. "How can this be?"
Haldir turned then to Sir Hugh. "You must dig a wide trench of perhaps two or three spans, pour oil into it about the depth of one span and then place leave, branches, twigs or anything that will burn atop it. When the enemy approaches use your best archers to set it alight. It will burn for hours, give light at night to reveal the enemy's whereabouts and deter forward movement."
Sir Hugh liked the idea. "Aye," he said, "this is not a thing I would do myself, but it is a sound suggestion." In that instant he realized Haldir may have not exaggerated his own battle experience. He would avail himself of whatever knowledge this blonde stranger could bring.
Haldir pondered a moment, letting his gaze turn to the men encamped below. "When will it come?"
Sir Hugh knew what Haldir meant. "'Tis to be by Lammastide, but I suspect Almeric Attford will not conduct himself with honor and siege will come much sooner than that." In his voice there was a grim determination as of one ready to face battle and death.
Not knowing when Lammastide would be, Haldir asked, "When is this?"
Sir Hugh shot Haldir a brief stare and answered, "First days of August, not six weeks away." He eyed the blonde stranger, "Do you not observe Lammastide amongst your people?"
Without turning Haldir shook his head, "Nay," he crossed his arms. "But this gives us little time to prepare." He turned then to Sir Hugh and found the Atani was watching him with a curious look to his face.
Two hours later, Haldir was busily directing a group of fifty foot soldiers as he selected an area behind the rear gatehouse, some two leagues away from the woods beyond. Here they began to dig, as a steady line of pages and squires carried jugs and ceramic amphoras of oil. Carefully the oil was poured into narrow wooden troughs that they had hastily crafted and lowered these into the trench they had dug. In this fashion a dividing line between any invader and the rear gatehouse was slowly but meticulously created. As Haldir watched, he saw a young squire stop and frown.
"Will the earth not soak up the oil?" He eyed the work with a dubious expression.
Haldir nodded, "Aye, it will," he explained, "but that is not the end of it. Leaves, branches and even rags will be added. We will light it and continued to stoke its fire."
The squire snorted. "Fancy idea don't sound too good." He gave Haldir a grim look. "You've done this before sir?"
Haldir nodded. "Many times." He placed a reassuring hand on the youth's shoulder. "It will work."
Shaking his head, the squire heaved the now-empty jug and walked back to Rowan Bold.
~*~*~*~*~
After leaving Haldir with Sir Hugh, Elyen rapidly approached the house, crossed its courtyard and directed herself toward Godfrey's library. As she neared the great chamber, she could hear muffled voices.
Without preamble, she opened wide the heavy wooden door to the library itself and stepped inside. With Godfrey was Matilda, Myles and two other knights Elyen recognized as subordinates of Hugh Malet.
When Matilda saw Elyen, she turned her stricken face to her husband. "See? Elyen comes when ill news bears on an ill wind."
Elyen stopped in her tracks and frowned, "What news speak ye of?"
Matilda frowned and then turned to face Elyen. "Do not tell me you had no hand in this?" Her voice was still but cold.
Elyen cooly observed Matilda's flushed face. "I merely gave your daughter an opportunity for happiness while securing your husband's estates and your safety, Matilda Fitzwalter!" Elyen finished the last with a touch of annoyance in her voice.
Godfrey put his hand up. "Peace!" He glared at his wife. "'Tis not for us to condem Elyen of York, wife." He motioned for the two knights to depart. Bowing, they quickly exited the room. "These matters are best discussed within the bosom of the family's hearth."
Not truly understanding, Elyen looked over at Matilda, who still stood, an accusing light in her eyes. "I've returned with news of import, and whether ye shall hear it or not, 'tis best you prepare yourselves for not all bodes well for ye!" She watched Godfrey's shoulders slump.
"Whatever you have come to say," he began wearily, "say it then leave this house forever, for ye are surely not welcome any longer." He turned and slumped heavily into a wide chair.
Elyen had half expected this. "I shall go and ne'er return, as you wish," she saw a glimmer of triumph in Matilda's face, "but know you this." She saw Godfrey's eyes raise to her face. "Your daughter was taken by my design, aye, 'tis true. She awaits within the safety of Anstig Mote and Ulric has wedded her." Godfrey's face showed shock and he turned to Matilda who also watched the Maia with a look of horror upon her face.
Elyen continued, "You should not have sent Wyat to Anstig, Godfrey, for he is an untried youth. He was intercepted by Atteford's men."
Godfrey rubbed his face, "Say what you wont and then leave." His voice was weary.
Elyen crossed her arms. She felt no anger toward these mortals, for she well knew they had been pushed to the limit of their endurance and well understood why they behaved thusly. She was loath to bring more pain to this family, but she knew she must tell them all. "Wyat lies dying within the walls of Anstig Mote, victim to ambush by order of Almeric Atteford." She saw the grief upon Godfrey's brow and her heart was pained. She continued quietly, "Though I have no proof of it, my heart tells me Almeric's hand has risen against this house." She said the words as gently as she could, but the immediate impact was cruel and harsh.
Matilda sobbed and turned to Godfrey, her eyes watering, but she said nothing. Godfrey still sat, his eyes downcast. After a long pause he spoke sadly, "Then 'tis over."
Elyen shook her head, "Nay, 'tis only begun!" She came to stand closer to the man. "You have Anysse and Melissant, your lands and estates. These shall not, cannot, fall into Atteford's hands!" Her voice was tinged with worry, but they carried power.
Slowly Godfrey raised his head and stared at Elyen. "How can we win?"
"Through sheer perseverance, and with some help from quarters you did not expected to receive." Elyen replied enigmatically.
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Disclaimer: All familiar characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and are used without permission. No monies are being made from this work.
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