For the Love of a Maia

For the Love of a Maia
Chapter 11 - Siege!
A story by Sienna Dawn

Pairing: Haldir/OFC Heterosexual
Rating: NC17 for sexuality

Summary: 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 11 – Siege!

Haldir sat high atop a rampart facing the woods that rose beyond the Western Gate of Rowan Bold. Nearly two weeks had passed since he and Elyen had returned to the ancient house. There had been no siege from Almeric´s quarters though from experience Haldir knew that meant little. Siege and war often came when least expected. Though the Bold´s defenses were in many ways insufficient to maintain a long drawn out battle, Haldir was satisfied that with the fortifications made to the ancient house and its keep, these Atani could hold out for several weeks. Yet, he knew that death was their sure fate if reinforcements were not to arrive soon.

Haldir let his eyes wander toward the green trees that rose majesticlly before him. They reminded him of Elyen. He sighed and shifted from his position, taking a swift look at the other archers close by. The Atani were huddled close to the ramparts, all quietly observing the lands that stretched out before them, seeking signs of impending assault. Every four hours a fresh drill of men relieved those already at their posts. Nourishment, though rationed, was brought to them every eight hours. The atmosphere was calm but expectant and even the sounds of the ancient house itself was dull and muted. The animals, feeding off the anxiety of the humans, seemed to sense that not all was well and had become more docile. Children were kept indoors and even they too ceased their boisterous games. Rowan Bold waited, and it waited with patience and resignation.

Haldir shifted again and once more let his eyes wander past the tops of the trees beyond the Bold. It was a clear afternoon and a crisp western wind brought to Haldir´s keen senses the scent of horses and campfires well concelead within the great wood. He knew that leagues beyond the forces of Almeric´s men were marshalled. Waiting for what Haldir knew not. Yet with a grim foreboding he knew that they must be waiting for something. He prayed to the Valar that they waited not for reinforcements though his eyes had spied once a force of near one thousand men. He knew the Atani within Rowan Bold were no match for the superior numbers Almeric wielded. But why the delay? Haldir had asked himself this question many times over. And as always he had no answer. What kept Almeric Atteford from laying siege to Rowan Bold?

He thought back to Elyen once more.

Inexplicably and without giving him warning, Elyen had mysteriously departed the Bold the day after she had arrived with Haldir. Though Haldir knew better than to question her motives or actions, it saddened him that they had not had the time to bid each other farewell. News of Wyat´s life and death struggle had eventually swept the ranks of the Bold, yet none knew of his eventual fate. Thus, it was not known if he still lived or had passed to the halls of his ancestors.

A loud clattering suddenly interrupted Haldir´s musings and his eyes turned to the source of the sound. A silver helmeted head abruptly popped into view from below the killing holes. Haldir grinned. It was Sir Hugh, though Haldir needed not his eyes to tell him thus. Sir Hugh´s unmistakable scent wafted toward Haldir´s nostrils. The elf fought to not avert his face from the offending aroma. Why the Atani of this world refused to bathe regularly was a thing which perplexed him greatly.

“ ‘Tis an uncommon sight, Lord Haldir, to see you untroubled and taking the afternoon air.’ Sir Hugh´s large form was clearly visible between the slit of the killing hole.

Haldir grinned. He had long become accustomed to Sir Hugh´s taunts and knew now they were the Atani´s manner of speech. In the days that had passed both man and elf had developed a tolerance that to some nearly bordered on friendship. Sir Hugh had come to realize that in Haldir he had a reliable and seasoned warrior. Haldir, for his part, had grown to admire the Atani commander, both for his perseverance and loyalty. Haldir knew now that Rowan Bold would have collapsed long ago if not for the iron will of Hugh Malet.

“Aye,’ Haldir shot back, stretching his legs and focusing his eyes on the man below him. “No more uncommon than seeing you bathe, Sir Hugh.’ Haldir kept his voice light. He heard the man laugh.

“Bathing is for fish.’ Came Sir Hugh´s dry reply.

“No doubt the fish do not think so.’ Haldir taunted. He heard Sir Hugh grunt.

“No movement at the Western Gate?’ Sir Hugh asked.

“None that I can see.’ Replied Haldir. “What of the main gatehouse? Portends there?’

Sir Hugh shook his head slightly. “Nothing there. Too quiet.’

Haldir nooded, understanding the meaning behind the words. He was about to swing down below the killing hole and join Sir Hugh, when a slight movement beyond the wood caught his attention. Abruptly, Haldir raised his hand and focused his sight on its source. All around him the Atani waited. Already Haldir´s keen sight was a thing of renown within the Bold. Moments passed and the Atani still waited. Haldir watched intently and though many of the archers turned their eyes toward the same spot Haldir gazed upon, none saw anything except tall rowans whose leafy spires were alight with the golden shards of the afternoon sun. It was Sir Hugh who could not stand the wait any longer. He rushed along the perimeter wall and climbed the high stone steps where Haldir crouched.

“My Lord!’ Hissed Sir Hugh. “What does thou see?’ He kept his voice low so that only the elf could hear. His dark eyes peered toward the wood but saw nothing. “Cursed be these human eyes that cannot pierce that green darkness!’ He looked toward Haldir again. “What does thou see?’ He asked again, this time with a great urgency in his deep voice.

Haldir´s eyes turned toward Hugh Malet. “ ‘Tis not what I see but more precisely what I hear.’ His words were unhurried as he struggled to comprehend what he had seen. Suddenly, the reason for Almeric´s delay became clear to Haldir. But why had he not heard the Atani as they mined the earth? Why had his eyes been blind to what he saw now? Why had his ears been deaf? Was this Elyen´s doing? If so, then why favor Almeric´s advantage? Finding no answers, Haldir raised his eyes once again toward the dark forest and added, “They are mining deep under the earth. They are burrowing forth.’ Silver elven eyes, full of meaning, bore into dark human ones.

Simultaneously, elf and man knew that the days of waiting were over.

Siege was now upon them!

~*~*~*~*~

Sir Hugh turned toward the green wood but he saw nothing. “Tunneling?’ He asked, “How many? Archers? Knights?’ His voice was a raspy whisper. He leaned against the cool stone wall, thinking. Mining toward the Bold? But how? What of the moat? Looking at the forest again, he turned his eyes toward Haldir.

“They cannot think they can dig their way to this house?’ His eyes dropped back to Haldir and he saw the elf still watching that which he could not see. “But what of the moat? They cannot dig under water!’

Haldir thought for a moment. “They cannot dig under water though there have been those who have tried.’ He turned and saw the confusion on the Atani´s face. “No, they cannot dig under the moat, but a tunnel would protect and hide them. They can dig to the distance of the water´s edge before the mud collapses their walls within. Then they can come and go in safety.’

Sir Hugh nodded, “Aye. Then, we must light the trenches now!’ He saw that there was a flicker of doubt on Haldir´s face. “You do not think this will suffice?’ From experience Sir Hugh knew the slaughter that threatened. Fighting under the ground, in the dark, with little space to move and breathe. Sir Hugh was loathe to bring this manner of death to his men. In his mind there was no honor in this. Yet, he was not surprised. Nothing about that cunning bastard, Almeric Atteford, surprised him.

“The fire trenches will deter them but not stop them.’ Haldir offered.

Sir Hugh nodded. “And their numbers?’

Haldir looked back. “Same as before,’ He answered. “Perhaps one thousand strong.’ He let his eyes wander over the scene before him before turning to look at Sir Hugh.

Sir Hugh frowned. “This I do not understand.’ He looked at Haldir. “In these short days how was this possible, that they can dig so far so quickly?’ He saw Haldir had no response. “Weapons? Do you see these things?’

Haldir looked again and nodded. “Yes, they have weapons. Within and without they carry death by flame, stone and spear.’ His people had no use for such things though he well knew that the Atani had long employed them in Middle Earth. It was told in the histories of the Eldar that one such weapon had nearly destroyed the outer wall of the city of kings, Minas Tirith.

Sig Hugh did not yet understand and he frowned in frustration. “What mean you?’

“ ‘Tis a weapon made by men to hurl death at their enemies.’ His eyes returned to the wood before alighting on the face of Sir Hugh. He could see that the Atani was beginning to understand.

“A trebuchet?’ Sir Hugh asked.

Haldir, unfamiliar with the word, began to describe what he saw. Quietly, Sir Hugh listened and when Haldir was done he simply asked, “How long?’

Haldir looked back toward the enemy´s lines. “A great number have already gone under the ground. The others approach on foot.’ He calculated. “Two days, no more.’

Sir Hugh frowned and looked at the green wood. “I must with haste to my Lord, Sir Godfrey, so that all may be made at the ready.’ He gave Haldir a curt nod. “Then we begin the battle in the name of God and Saint Denis!’

At this Sir Hugh turned quickly and ran down the rampart walls, issuing commands, walking with a great purpose toward the ancient house. His own constables and men-at-arms at once moved to their battle positions, grim determination on each face. Behind them, in the center of the great courtyard of Rowan Bold, stood the smaller versions of the catapults that Haldir had seen in Almeric´s camp. Mutely they waited and those who manned them were working quickly, gathering as much shot as possible.

Haldir could smell the pungent odor of hot tar and he knew the tower keep was well stocked with that, as well as hot oil and sand. He shook his head. He looked over at the archers, some old and some so very young. Was it ever going to end? Were the Atani and this world condemned to war, pestilence and death? Had the shadow of Morgoth and Sauron so utterly tainted this world that men would never shake free? He could not believe that the Valar would forsake the children of Illuvatar. Not like this. Then, unbidden, came Elyen´s words. That the future of nations yet to be depended on this one moment. He took a deep breath and decided it was best not to think anymore. Waiting was all they had now.

From his vantage point Haldir continued to watch the approaching army with growing dread. This was not the same sort of weaponry used by the Atani of Middle Earth. Though he recognized what Sir Hugh called trebuchets as catapults it was the projectiles attached to each of the four machines that caused him to worry. He checked his own quiver, knives and sword, allowing his eyes to lift themselves to the enemy camp.

He knew that Atani used catapults to bring down even the most formidable fortresses, but he knew that most often the ammunition used were stones or lit torches, though even hot tar was at times flung at the enemy. Yet these Atani were not using these weapons. Instead, he had seen bodies affixed to the long arms of the catapults. Atani corpses. Animals too, and bundles made of some material his keen eyes could not pierce past. From experience he knew that rotting corpses could bring death by disease and he knew not how to combat this. He was no Healer.

Again his thoughts rose to Elyen and he wondered if she knew what was at hand.

~*~*~*~*~

South of Rowan Bold, in the great Templar stronghold called Martell-in-Landing, Gregorie de Martell pondered his next move. In the weeks since Gilbert de Poynes had come to him and made known Almeric Atteford´s true desires and aims, his loyalties had been sorely tested. Templar spies and runners kept him well informed of the many plots buzzing about the kingdom. And now the many pieces of this royal puzzle were beginning to form a grander mosaic; a dangerous mosaic and one in which he truly wished no part to play. Yet, for the honor of his order and their great legacy, for the honor of his name and those of his ancestors as well as for the honor of his men, he must come to a decision. Tiredly, he lifted his eyes to the men waiting before him. Each Templar captain standing within the great hall commanded a force of twenty. He saw de Poynes watched him carefully. Slowly, he began to speak.

“The earls of Anstig and Cobham and the Lords of de Graville and Ormsby
and other desire us to make haste to Rowan Bold for in that place are they fiercely menaced by the marshaled forces of Almeric Atteford and his allies from Carlisle; wherefore they desire us that we come and aid them.’

There was a great silence in the chamber as each Templar knight thought upon these words and their meaning. At last someone spoke.

“By sworn oath we obey the commands of the true king, my Lord.’ This was said by Sir Thomas de Montfort, a younger son of a great noble family. “And by whose leave do we marshal our own?’

There was a slight murmuring in the room.

“Robert de Lacy.’ Replied Sir Gregorie quietly.

The others started at the name of the royal regent, the one man who next to King Henry wielded as much power as the king himself.

“de Lacy?’ Asked Gilbert de Poynes incredulously. “How come you by this knowledge, my Lord? Methought that de Lacy was beyond reach.’

Sir Gregorie shook his head. “Nay, he follows the command of the King, of whom we know little these days, save he presses forth against his own son in challenge for the crown itself. de Lacy pursues Almeric Atteford and his allies unto their death. ‘Tis the only way to secure the land from civil war. Almeric desires the crown for himself.’ He looked sternly at each man. “My own knowledge of this comes from de Lacy and Elyen of York. By de Lacy´s leave we press forth to Rowan Bold.’

Gilbert de Poynes stared hard at Sir Gregorie before speaking. “Then you think her not a sorceress?’

Sir Gregorie smiled thinly, “What I think or desire makes not for peace in this land. The Lady´s spies are accurate. Of this I am now certain. As is de Lacy. She has his ear.’ He added.

At this statement, Sir Gilbert made no further comment.

Sir Gregorie raised his hand in blessing and in a strong voice called out, “May strength, power and honor ride with you and maintain you.’

The knights understood these were their final orders. Making no further comments, they each bowed in respect to Sir Gregorie and took their leave. Quickly, they strode out of the great chamber, their footsteps eerily echoing in the hall.

Sighing, Sir Gregorie closed his eyes and leaned into his chair. Suddenly, he felt very old.

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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.
Graphics copyrighted Cari Buziak