The riders from Harwick enter the town of Floodwend after a long trek across the Wold and are grateful that the gates open for them; after the tidings on the road that Floodwend might be barred to them, the welcome sight of the opening gates fills all hearts with relief. The dozen riders reined up at the stables and dismounted, stable-hands taking their mounts and farriers seeing to their state and care. And as is now commonplace, the new wonder of never having beheld an Elf before puts all eyes upon Seregrían. At first she was both amused and uncomfortable by the attention; but now, she has learned is can be a cunning and disarming weapon when dealing with these Men.
The Harwick troop is quickly seen to, as the riders are shown a barracks and billeting; but the captain of the watch bids Heruding and Caeorwulf to a hasty council to report on the ride. Heruding bids Seregrían to follow, and she listens more than speaks.
“The lands appeared to be empty,” Heruding reports, “save for rumors and tidings on the trail. No sight or sound of any enemy riding was to be found; that is, until we encountered the flying dread just outside your walls.”
“Ah, you heard and saw that, too?” the captain says. “Many thought it the cry of some mournful beast in the wild; but this had a tone in its cry that struck men with dread, as if something wicked was watching for far off.”
“We saw it much closer,” Caeorwulf adds. “The fear that cry caused made men cringe, men I had known to be battle-ready. Our companion, the lady Blodcywn, deems it to be from the Black Land, and I would agree with her.”
The captain turns to look at Seregrían, and his reaction to her is the same as many others. “Strange times we are seeing. Fell creatures cross the River and menace us far afield, and now an Elfling steps out of legends to ride with the Rohirrim. What else might you know of this thing we all saw, lady? Elves have long knowledge of the Enemy’s devices, so the soothsayers tell us.”
“I know what it is that harries you from the high airs,“ Seregrían says, “and indeed it comes from Mordor. But as to its errand or purpose, who can say? A scout, or a harbinger of assault? These things you cannot learn yet, not in the night, for that is its right home and not yours. You must wait for the dawn before the hunt, for then you will have an even chance, if not the advantage.”
“The dawn will not help us that much”, the captain says, “for among these intruders are these great orcs, some warriors among their kind who can move and fight by sun or moon. And there is one who seems greater than the rest, a chieftain or captain: he rides a giant wolf, one of these Wargs we have seen in growing numbers, Perhaps if this one falls, the others might see the folly of assailing our walls.”
“We stand ready to ride alongside you,” Heruding says, “as soon as men and mounts are rested. Come, let us see to the company.” And the council breaks, each going separate ways, with Heruding seeing to the comfort and quartering of his men, while Caeorwulf and Seregrían repair to the tavern to refresh themselves with food and talk. The tavern of Floodwend is little more than a tented pavilion near the city wall, with an open firepit beneath the stars.
The scene is as the norm, with the folk of Floodwend gawking in wonder as Seregrían approaches. The pair also find that four of the riders from Harwick are here, commanding a table near the firepit, one of them she recognizes as the bold talker from Harwick, who sought to test her in archery. Two of the men smile at them, and one beckons them over to join them.
“Hail, Caeorwulf, and you too, Lady Blodcywn! At last, we leave Harwick to bring tidings of war to the other towns and crofts. We stayed overlong in Harwick and it is well that we ride with you.”
“And who are you,” Caeorwulf says, “speaking as if merely sellswords seeking gain for yourselves?”
“Nay, none such are we! I and my companions are charged by the lord Eomer, to ride the Wold and lands afar, spreading the alarm and harassing the Enemy where we can.” The man introduces his companions who nod one after another, “Leofdag, Hutha and Ulf, along with myself, are the Riders Four, who seek the strike a blow for Rohan as best we may!”
The one named Hutha speaks, “We have yet to see if the challenge of the lady Blodcywn has teeth, have we not? No swords have been drawn; no arrow loosed – yet. Perhaps on the morrow we shall see the mettle of our Elvish spitfire, eh lads?” The others smile and laugh - as does Seregrían, with a wicked tilt to her smile and a growing light to her eyes, which Caeorwulf sees and causes him to step back a pace.
“Hmm, ‘spitfire’, is it now?” Seregrían smirks. “You mean, like this?” She leans towards the firepit, and blows a kiss to the burning logs, sending the flames leaping high in a sudden rush and roar. Men cry aloud in alarm as they jump back in haste, and all eyes are now on Seregrían as she stands alone, slowly turning to face the startled men, framed against the bonfire that slowly settles back into the coals.
“What care have I for your dares and boasts?” Seregrían says in a sultry voice. “I, who can turn your arrows to ash as they leave your fingers? Who can bathe your steel with lightning from the clouds? These are the tools by which I shall forge death to whoever stands between me and that which I hunt. For I am the Blood-queen - and let all beware my kiss!”
All there look upon Seregrían in new dread, save Caeorwulf who had known of her fire though had yet to see it; and one of the Riders Four, the first who spoke. “An Elf-witch is among us. Glad I am that she rides at our side, and not against us. Your pardon, Blodcywn, and forgive us the rash words. Burnoth, son of Baldeg, is my name; and the Riders Four shall be pleased to ride in your company.”
“And now that I have proven myself, O Burnoth son of Baldeg of the Riders Four”, Seregrían says haughtily, “it is up to you to prove yourselves to me. The coming days shall show whether bravery and brag go together, and this is but part of my business among you: to judge whether Men are worthy of my aid. Do not be found wanting – again…”
