For the Love of a Maia

For the Love of a Maia
Chapter 8: Intercepted
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 8 - Intercepted

Haldir turned back and looked. Behind them, and closing fast, came the three knights from Rowan Bold.

"Ulric!" Haldir shouted to the man behind him, "you must take the Lady Anysse and ride on!"

Ulric looked over at Haldir and then behind him. He could see nothing upon the road, but he knew the elf's eyes were unmatched.

"Are you certain they are that close behind?" Ulric called.

"Aye, now but three leagues, their horses are lighter and rested. They will be upon us in less than an hour. You must take the Lady Anysse and ride on. I will stay and give you time."

Ulric did not like being separated from the elf, but he knew Haldir was more than capable of handling the situation. He slowed his horse as did Haldir. Dismounting, he came round to help Anysse off Haldir's horse and his eyes locked with the elf's silver stare. "Remember, Haldir, some of these men are my friends."

Haldir nodded tersely and turned his horse around, "I remember, my friend." Haldir looked down the road and narrowed his eyes. "I can delay them so you and the Lady will be able to cross the river without impediment. After that, I cannot guarantee your safety. You must fly!"

Ulric had already hoisted a white-face, stricken Anysse onto his horse and he wrapped an arm about her waist. "Hold onto to the pommel, Anysse." He whispered and saw her nod.

Looking back at Haldir, he called out, "The River Wharfe is northeast of this road. Follow it for three leagues. Soon the river will be in view. Cross at any point for my uncle's archers are everywhere scattered within the deep woods."

Haldir turned briefly to acknowledge Ulric's words and then led his steed into the forest groves on the side of the road. In moments, the elf and the horse had disappeared and Ulric urged his own mount toward safety.

~*~*~*~*~

Hidden by the deep woods, Haldir dismounted and spoke quietly to his horse, hoisting his bow and quiver behind his back, and placing the provisions bag on the ground. With a few words of thanks and gratitude, he set the horse free and watched it canter off into the dark thicket until he heard the rapid thumping of horses rapidly gaining ground.

Rapidly, Haldir selected a tall tree which overlooked the path and there watched the road. Now the riders were less than two leagues away. He had to think quickly. How could he stop these Atani without drawing blood?

He turned his silver eyes toward Ulric's direction and saw his horse was quickly approaching the River he had called Wharfe and was urging the steed across it. The night sky was beginnning to yield to a soft dawn's light and Haldir knew moving in daylight was dangerous. So, he canvassed further ahead of Ulric and saw the heads of hidden archers not one league away from where Ulric had crossed. Haldir hoped these were the sentries posted by his kin. If so, then Ulric and Anysse were out of danger.

Grey eyes turned to look down the south path and he saw the riders approaching at a full gallop, the steeds nostrils flaring wide with the exertion and weight they carried. He did not wish to shed blood nor injure the animals, but he needed to slow these Atani and give Ulric more time as well as gain an advantage so that he too could cross the River.

Haldir drew two arrows from his quiver and nocked them at the ready, his eyes following the riders, his body relaxed, his aim precise.

In moments, the knights rounded a small curve directly opposite Haldir.

The first two arrows were let loose.

The riders, unaware of the danger trudged furiously on. Only their great warhorses bucked and slowed, sensing the hidden danger in the woods.

Two more arrows followed, past the lead Atani's head, losing themselves in the thicket beyond them.

At once the knights came to a halt and dismounted, running into the safety of the woods.

Haldir let fly two more volleys and waited, able to clearly see the knights as they crouched in the green darkness of the forest, their great broadswords drawn, their eyes scanning about and above them.

Haldir saw none carried a bow and he realized he held the advantage. These Atani were trained for face-to-face combat. Though he knew he could easily take on the three in hand to hand swordplay, he remembered his promise to Ulric. He knew he had the advantage. As long as he was able to keep the Atani from crossing the River, then not only did Ulric stand a chance to escape, but he did as well.

Haldir dropped lower to the ground, moving from branch to branch, following the course Ulric had given him, soon his keen senses detecting the scent of clean water. He stopped to look behind him and saw the Atani emerging from the woods, walking their warhorses onto the road, their swords drawn.

He stopped and fired off two more rounds, making sure at least one arrow grazed close enough to one of the Atani's head, but inches away from doing injury. Instantly, the Atani scampered back into the woods and Haldir soon caught their conversation and looked back toward the river. He judged he was three leagues from it. He'd have to move at top speed to reach and ford it before the Atani implemented their plan.

Quickly and with great stealth did Haldir move, aware that below him, the three Atani soldiers were slowly closing a semi-circular perimeter about him and if they succeeded he would be trapped within it.

Rapidly he covered two leagues and saw the great River Wharfe come into view. Below him, one Atani soldier was already gaining on him. Haldir nocked one arrow and let it fly, and pushed forward, hearing the Atani's mild curse.

He reached the banks of the river just as sunlight was beginning to filter through lavender-colored clouds. Breaking free of the forest, he sprinted toward the river banks, slinging his bow behind his shoulders as he ran. He heard a called shout of warning from behind him and then came the heavy thrum of a warhorse as it approached him. Haldir knew that moving into the clear light of day posed his greatest threat, but there was no way around his dilemma.

Suddenly, a great spear hissed above his head, narrowly missing him and embedding itself into the moist soil. Haldir sprinted harder and splashed into the cold water, diving in at the deepest end, gathering a great lungful of air and swimming beneath the clear, glittering waters of the rushing river. He was a strong and practiced swimmer and knew that in this the Atani could not match him. He swam for a brief moment, following the shaft of light to the surface. Bobbing his head above water, he saw the three Atani hesitate at the river banks, uncertain whether to cross or not. Haldir wondered if their reluctance had anything to do with the fact that the other side of the river was patrolled by Ulric's kin.

Swimming quickly to the other side, Haldir chose a secluded bank covered with moss and roots, and there made his way out of the water. Crouching beneath a nearby tree, he checked his weapons and made certain he had lost none. His sword still hung at his side, and his bow and quiver were still in place, as were his concealed Noldorin knives. Even the provisions bag had survived intact, though he suspected that much of its contents were spoiled. He reached for his quiver and pulled an arrow out. The fletching on the arrows were still attached securely and because they were elven-made, would still fly straight and true though they be wet. Haldir thought back to the loosed arrows. Those, he knew, were lost for good, but he counted enough left in his quiver should another incident require their use. He missed his rope but knew that one item was hopelessly lost to him for good.

Silver eyes scanned the forest ahead of him and he detected the faint scent of burning wood. Atani were close by. He hoped that Ulric and Anysse had made it through while still under the cover of night. By now it was clear day, and the bright sun overhead warmed his skin and wet clothes.

With great stealth and care, Haldir stood, turning to see that the Atani from Rowan Bold still waited at the edge of the far side of the river, unwilling to cross.

Haldir took several cautious steps, already knowing he had been spotted and attempting himself to discover where the hidden Atani lay on this side of the river.

A sudden movement of leaves, no more softer than a lover's caress, came to him and he carefully looked to his right.

He saw them before they acted.

Four archers, well concealed within the highest branches of an oak, all four bearing longbows. All arrows nocked and aimed directly at his heart.

Haldir knew he had to make certain these men knew he was an ally, so he carefully extended his right arm away from his body and with the left hand unslung his bow, dropped the quiver onto the ground and then extended his left arm as well. Softly but with a note of haughtiness he spoke.

"I am allied to Ulric of Ormsby and am kinsman to Elyen of York. I have placed my weapons before you in an act of friendship and goodwill."

There was no answer from the Atani archers. Haldir cocked an eyebrow and waited. He could see a figure moving in-between the large trees. In seconds a tall, dark-haired man appeared. He wore a standard of a rearing golden lion on his chest, a large sword was casually draped over his hip.

"That may be, stranger," the Atani knight intoned, giving Haldir a very thorough look. "But spies and enemies of our Lord abound in these woods and pretty words are of little use to us." The Atani came to stand directly before Haldir and crossed his arms. With a slow nod toward the trees, he pointed out to Haldir what the elf already had seen: the hidden, armed archers.

Haldir waited, calmly gazing into the Atani's eyes.

"What business have you with the Lords of Anstig and Ormsby? You trespass on their lands."

Haldir brought his arms down to his sides and saw the man slightly stiffen.

"I am kinsman to Elyen of York," he began, seeing the flicker of recognition on the man's face at the mention of Elyen's name. "I am escort to Ulric de Graville and Lady Anysse Fitzwalter. We were pursued by three knights from Rowan Bold. I remained behind to allow Sir Ulric time to ford the river to your Lord's lands." Haldir's silver eyes studied the man's face carefully, but saw there no trace of denial or confirmation.

The Atani captain sighed and turned his eyes toward the bank of the river behind Haldir.

"Aye," he answered, "we've seen them, though know not why they pursue." He turned and waved toward the trees. Haldir saw the archers lower their bows and retreat further into the trees.

The Atani captain spoke then, "Word from Lord Robert reached us before dawn to make ready for Sir Ulric and his party. Though we thought you slain."

"Then the Lord Ulric and the Lady are safe?" Haldir asked, not knowing who Lord Robert may be, but suspecting he was a kinsman of Ulric's.

The captain nodded, "On their way to Anstig Mote." He gave Haldir a hard stare. "You are Haldir of Lorien?"

Haldir was stunned by the Atani's use of his name and slowly nodded, "Aye, I am."

The Atani captain pursed his lips as if coming to a decision. "Come, then, Lord Haldir, for you must also make for the Mote. We ready for siege and soon entry to the castle will be forbidden."

Haldir grimaced at these news, but silently followed the Atani captain deeper into the forest.

~*~*~*~*~

When news of Anysse's kidnapping reached Rowan Bold a grim-faced Godfrey Fitzwalter met with his Constable, Hugh Malet.

"Did you not see their faces, Hugh?" Godfrey asked grimly.

Malet shook his head, "Nay, my Lord."

Godfrey thought for a moment. "Has news of this reached Carlisle yet?"

Sir Hugh frowned, "I know not, my Lord, though I believe Lord Almeric has taken residence there for this season."

"As I suspected," responded Godfrey, "for he came to feast with Carlisle's Earls." He rubbed his face and stood, gazing at the great unlit fireplace in the main hall. "Hugh," Godfrey began and turned to the man, "begin to store ales, beans and salt."

Malet frowned, "Are we storing for siege, my Lord?"

Godfrey sighed, "I am not certain, but this I see: Ulric de Graville and Haldir left the Bold three days prior to Anysse's departure for the Priory. Now you tell me Lady Elyen is nowhere to be found." Godfrey sat heavily on a wooden chair by the fireplace. He raised his eyes to the silent Malet. "We must prepare. My heart tells me Lord Almeric suspects I may allied to the Earls of Anstig."

Sir Hugh came to stand before his Lord. "Why would Lord Almeric siege this House and come to think of such a thing, my Lord?"

Godfrey stared at the cold fireplace. "Because I fear my daughter has run off with Ulric de Graville."

Sir Hugh looked away from his Lord for a moment, thinking of the words he had just heard. "Then the Lord Almeric should siege Anstig Mote and not Rowan Bold, my Lord."

But Godfrey shook his head, "I take no chances. Store up on these items I bade you and bring the garrison to the Bold as high as you can. Give orders to shut the Gates into the city by strike of nine each night. Place archers at the paths and watch for travelers on the Bridges."

Sir Hugh nodded, "Aye, my Lord," and swiftly left the room.

Sitting alone with his thoughts, Godfrey began to piece together many things which had long disturbed him. In this manner the hours passed and soon late afternoon gave way to early evening.

Just as Godfrey was rising from the heavy wooden chair, his son, Wyat entered and strode toward him.

"Father," he began seriously, "you must speak with Melissant at once!" His quiet blue eyes bore into his father's tired face.

"Melissant?" Godfrey repeated.

"Aye," Wyat said, "I've nearly gotten all of the story."

Godfrey frowned, "What story speak you of, my son? Your good mother perchance...."

"Nay!" Wyat cut off his father, "This is for you to hear!"

Godfrey rose and waved, "Very well, bring your sister to me."

Minutes later a cowering Melissant was brought before her father. His blue eyes rested kindly on the child and he asked, "Meli, my dear, your brother Wyat says there are things you wish to tell me?"

Meli looked at his brother once and was rewarded with a cold stare.

"Oh father," her eyes misted, and she felt the sting of betrayal. Still, she felt she was doing this for Anysse's welfare. "Anysse swore me to silence, but silence I cannot keep for her life is in danger!"

Godfrey eyed his youngest daughter with concern. "What mean you, child?"

Meli twisted her hands together. "Before leaving for Sempringham Priory did she tell me of her plans to escape to Uncle Baldric's castle, but she also spoke of her love for Ulric de Graville and how she had hoped he would claim her."

Godfrey suddenly understood that his worst fears were indeed a reality.

"Holy God," he uttered, "does she not understand the betrothal to Lord Almeric was made in public and is therefore binding as a marriage contract!?" He stood and turned to Wyat.

"Call for Sir Hugh, Wyat." and then he turned his gaze toward a quaking Melissant.

"Do not fret so, daughter, you have done the honorable thing. Is there else you know?"

Meli shook her head, "Only that Anysse made no plans to enter the Priory, 'tis was only a ruse to delay her marriage to Almeric Atteford."

Godfrey nodded and reached out to touch the child's head. "This much your Lady Mother and I suspected." He smiled when Melissant locked her gaze onto his. "Go to your room now, child, with my thanks."

Meli nodded and turned to leave the hall, hoping that she had not hurt Anysse far too much, but grateful her secret was out.

~*~*~*~*~

It was hours later, while Godfrey, Hugh Malet and Wyat discussed their next defensive moves, that a knight entered the large hall and spoke quietly to Sir Hugh.

"My Lord!" Sir Hugh's normally impassive face was alit with nervous tension. "The Lord Atteford has gained entry to Rowan Bold!"

Godfrey stared hard at Sir Hugh, thinking quickly.

"Wyat!" He turned to his youngest son.

"Father." Wyat's response was immediate and he stepped closer to his father.

"Ride to Anstig, avoid the main roads. Warn them siege is coming." Godfrey's eyes turned to his son. "Ride fast, son, take no chances, for much depends on their gaining an advantage."

Sir Hugh sighed silently. He did not think it wise to send an untried youth with such an important errand, but in reality there was no one else. At seventeen, Wyat knew as much about weaponry and self-defense as any other knight in the Bold. Eventually, he would be tested in battle. Sadly, thought, Sir Hugh, he doubted Wyat would make it through to the lands of Anstig.

"Make haste, son," Godfrey urged.

Wyat nodded, "Aye, father. I leave at once."

Both men watched Wyat stride rapidly out of the great hall through a side door just in time to hear loud and heavy foosteps echo outside. In moments, the confident Almeric Atteford was crossing the hall, approaching Godfrey. Sir Hugh noticed the Earl did not offer Godfrey the usual bow of courtesy and instead stood erect, defiantly staring into Godfrey's eyes. A shudder involuntarily ran down Sir Hugh's spine.

"Godfrey of York," intoned Almeric, dismissing the usual greetings. Behind Almeric stood two heavily armed knights and four of his advisors. Almeric's voice was calm, controlled, even friendly. But there was no friendship in his eyes, nor in the set of his mouth.

Godfrey bowed in respect, "My Lord." His clear blue eyes came to rest briefly on the men behind Almeric and then on Almeric's face.

"My good Lord Godfrey," Almeric began. "By now you must know that your daughter, my betrothed, has been taken on the road to Sempringham Priory."

Godfrey nodded, "Aye." he confirmed and added, "though news of it but reached me a short time ago."

Almeric turned to give Sir Hugh a cold stare. "I have taken the liberty of inquiring with the Prioress of the place." Almeric turned away from Sir Hugh and gave Godfrey an almost kind look. "Did you know the Lady Anysse had made no arrangement to take Holy Vows?" His eyes grew colder as he said the words and his usually bland expression turned hard.

Godfrey shook his head, "Nay, my Lord." He lied. "I knew naught of it."

"Oh?" Almeric raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. He carefully studied Godfrey's face. "Indeed." He turned his back to Godfrey, and Sir Hugh hissed slightly at the implied insult.

Slowly, Almeric walked toward a colorful tapestry which he inspected in great detail and then turned to Godfrey.

"Let us be clear on the matter, Sir Godfrey," Almeric began, "the betrothal to the Lady Anysse was made in full witness of over one hundred persons beneath this very roof. As such, this is a contractually binding marriage and in effect, under Norman law, she is already my wife and as such these lands and all its shires and estates are now mine."

Godfrey blanched for he knew Almeric spoke but the truth. It was Sir Hugh who stepped in and quickly said, "That may be, my Lord, but under Norman law it is also made clear that the marriage must be consumated physically before it is legally enforceable." Sir Hugh spoke quietly and then added, "York is not yet yours, my Lord."

Almeric turned a vicious glare to the tall Malet, and then glanced at Godfrey. "My Lord," Almeric began casually, but the edge in his voice sharpened with every word. "I shall return at Lammastide. At that time you shall produce the Lady Anysse, who is already by contract my wife, or forfeit the titles of these lands."

Godfrey stared hard at the younger man. "I know not where Anysse may be, my Lord. Your demand is unreasonable. If your plan is to lay siege upon Rowan Bold then allow the women and children to leave peacefully, for this is not their quarrel."

Almeric laughed and began to don his riding gloves. "I think not." came his non-chalant reply. Without glancing again at the two men before him, Almeric turned and followed by his men, strode out of the great hall, and called out behind him, "Lammastide, Lord Godfrey, is all the time you shall be given." In seconds he and his men had exited the house.

Sir Hugh looked at Godfrey then. "What now, my Lord?"

Godfrey began walking out of the hall, "We make ready for siege, Hugh. See your men inform the kitchens, smithies and tanners. I will speak to my wife."

Sir Hugh nodded and left the hall in the opposite direction Godfrey had taken.

~*~*~*~*~

While Rowan Bold was making preparations for a siege, a lone rider pushed toward Anstig Mote, a fresh horse tied to the reins of his warsteed.

Wyat was familiar with the backroads that led to the great fortress and calculated that with luck he'd reach the outskirts of the Mote by moonrise.

Cautiously, he avoided the popular paths and roads and skirted around these, often slowed down by the thickets and groves he followed parallel to the road. Close to sunset he knew he had made more than half the journey's worth and had seen no dangers about. He had taken no provisions with him for he had no intentions on breaking camp. His one thought was to reach Anstig as quickly as possible.

By nightfall, Wyat had released the original steed and set him loose, knowing the animal would head back to Rowan Bold of its own accord. The fresher horse he pushed with greater speed and soon he calculated the Wharfe would be within sights. Despite the dangers of the situation, Wyat began to see hope at the end of his journey.

But what Wyat did not know was that two leagues behind him, spies of Almeric Atteford had intercepted Wyat's warhorse and familiar with the chevron of the flowering rowan tree had realized a rider from Rowan Bold had slipped past them. Their own pursuit followed and their horses rested and well-fed and watered, they tracked Wyat easily, silently catching up to the youth as he approached the River Wharfe and prodded his steed to cross it.

Almeric's men took position behind the cover of the woods by the river. Their one archer brought his longbow to the ready, nocked an arrow and let it fly.

Abruptly, Wyat felt a great burning, searing pain spread slowly from his lower back to his shoulders. Then he saw an arrow sail past him and he knew he had been struck. Despite the pain, he flattened himself against the great steed and raised his eyes toward the Anstig side of the Wharfe. A third and fourth arrow sailed past, one striking the horse's front leg. Yet both horse and rider pushed on, as volley after volley came. Another arrow grazed Wyat's leg just as his horse reached the other side of the river.

Bleeding profusely and feeling weak, nauseated and disoriented, Wyat marshalled all of his remaining strength and gave a great shout: "Sanctuary for Rowan Bold!" After that he knew no more, his unconscious body sliding slowly off the great warhorse which too limped and bled from its injury.

Key:

Lammastide - August 1st

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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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