Several dark horses were drinking whilst their riders still sat on top of them. They bore the green cloaks of the Eorlingas and shared casual banter with one another. Underneath they wore leather protection while one of them with a white mantle even had a mail hauberk on. Their beards were tawny blond or ginger and they shared the height of Théoden's people. At their belts they had swords, on the flank of their horses were shields and all of them had a spear on the side.
Aedre was one of the many driven from her home, her father told her to run and so she had together with her sister Odella. They had chosen to run through the river to cover their tracks and perhaps their scent, but were now regretting it as they were sopping wet from shoulder to foot. The weather hadn't been kind on them and a cold wind was sapping their bodily warmth. Although now they had come upon these warriors, maybe twenty of them? Heavily armored upon massive horses that towered above many of their cousins.
"Ware! Ware! Fighting men, the Orcs carrying the White Hand are attacking our village! Help us please!", Aedre shouted with rising hope in her breast. Odella had her arms wrapped around her body, but it wasn't the cold that made her shiver when she looked upon them. Something was off. The battle could still be heard and if they had wanted it they could've charged in long ago. The Orcs were many, but wouldn't resist a few dedicated trampling of those mighty hooves.
One of the men lifted his dark helmet so the visor rested level with his forehead, beneath it was a friendly enough face. A handsome man with high cheekbones, a strawberry blond beard clinging to his jaw and chin and a winning white toothed smile. It were his eyes that told Odella something was off, a sinister light glistened in them. "Oh fair maidens, we are certain to help ourselves. You've availed yourselves well already." His men laughed low and mockingly. Odella grabbed for Aedre, "We should keep running.." Aedre looked at her sister, "Are you jesting?" The large man led his horse right next to the young women and he reached out with a gloved hand, "You're welcome to ride with me if you want." Aedre reached out but before her fingers could embrace his inviting grip there was a rumble of hooves. An eored was riding towards the battle from the distance, about fifteen men split off from the main group. The gloved hand of the man about to pick up Aedre grumbled something and Odella noticed that the approach of these other men caused a ripple of uncertainty in those present.
The small host that came on halted abruptly a short distance from the stream and one tall man on a small stocky horse was the one to break silence. He looked a little ridiculous his feet so comparatively low above the ground compared to most others. His dark iron helmet with some golden adornments on the visor obscured most of his face, but Odella could see his braided blond beard dangle from his chin and a far healthier shine in the shaded eyes whom were as blue as the other one who had thus far bothered to show his features. He spoke with an authority born from facing battlefield after battlefield, "You! Stay clear of the woman!" He would've looked comical on his stud if not for the grizzled aura he gave of and those men with him no less armored and armed in the same fashion aside of some having bows or javelins.
The leader of the earlier group clasped his hand roughly around Aedre's and pulled her on his horse, not to sit behind him, but to have her tossed over as if she were a bag of beans, "What are you going to do about it? Riding me down with your dwarf?" As if practiced the group laughed.
"Why bother with the charade? Do you think we cannot tell where your true allegiances lie?", the man on the smaller horse asked roughly.
"I don't know what you're talking about, we are about to save these ladies and will be on our way. Farewell brothers!", the man uttered with arrogant mockery as if untouchable. He gestured for one of his men to pick up Odella in the same manner, but she let out a yelp and rushed out of the water. "Noble lord, if it is by your permission I would have you ride me either to safety or into battle. But before that I ask of you to secure my sister." The one fighter didn't come within striking distance he had that much sense at least.
Aedre tried to wriggle up into a sitting position as this was going on, yet before she could two of these men were tying her by her feet and her hands. She protested, but what could she do as one woman against the rough brawn of honed fighters.
The man on his smaller steed loosened up his cloak which he tossed around her shoulders before he let herself be helped up. "Can you hold on to me or are you too cold?", he asked softly. She replied in kind, "I-I can hold on.", uncertain thoughts on her mind. Then the man spoke to the leader of the fighters, "Last warning. Give her over or there will be dying here!"
The fighter looked on with a predatory stare, intending to intimidate perhaps and believing himself to succeed with ease from so much higher up. But the grizzled one looked up with an eeriness that instilled a fear that wasn't going to be acknowledged. "Who is she to you that you would risk your neck?"
The man looked up, "She's a child of the Riddermark, that suffices. And had you been anything less than a dishonorable thief who merely looks like us then you'd need not have asked that question. Set. her. down."
The man lowered his visor, "Try me! Men, we make for the ford! Let these ragged beggars have their girl, we'll have fun with ours haha! Farewell dwarf-rider!" With that they all spun their horses and started. Aedre shouted with despair and anger, but she needn't have worried long.
"Yrminas.. we're not going to let them run of right?"
The man shook his head, "No.Watch this. Héaa Aesche, héaa!", the short blond horse shot from its spot like an arrow. Odella leaned against the rider's back, but was forced to lean aside as the man drew his bow. The twenty or so men were going in a blob and several of them were shouting out, "Hey! They're coming after us!" "It's only one of them, the dwarf-rider hehe!" Their leader turned around, "You simply cannot be serious, what is he going to do?"
The answer came swiftly as an arrow embedded itself in the neck of one of the riders. He fell from his horse dead before he landed on the meadowland. Another arrow already found its way into the chest of another man and Yrminas had raced in front of this horde. "Ride him down! Forth Eored!", their leader shouted and the massive horses sped up gradually. In the moment for them to gain speed a third fighter who slumped forward with a dying rattle coming out of his throat, a shaft sticking out where his heart is. "He knows what he's doing!", one of the fighters shouted. "How is he that accurate?", another asked while going for his shield. Their leader piped up again, "Are you all afraid of one man? Ride him down already!" They were capable horsemen, they rode with practiced ease and had no issue traversing the land, however this archer was simply outpacing them. Yet once more an arrow flew and a fourth went down with a cry of pain as an arrow was lodged in the left side of his abdomen. A fifth shaft landed beautifully in a visor and that was another who dropped instantly, carried onward by his panicking steed.
Odella would've probably been more afraid if she wasn't so cold. It had taken her every bit of strength to hold on to Yrminas' armor where there were cuts and gaps for her to dig her fingertips into. But could she last for as long as she needed? She kept trying to think of anything except the biting cold or the expectation to have a spear lunged in her back any moment.
Yrminas had been so thoroughly practiced that he could predict where a man would be with relative ease. How many arrows had he loosened by now? A hundred? No, a thousand maybe. Even now he let a shaft fly and a sixth of them fell with a backwards tumble out of his saddle with a heavy smack. These fools might've seen a fight or two, but they were no warriors by any stretch of the imagination. Outlaws, opportunists and men with vile spirits going in the garb of their fathers not caring one jot for it. They took what they pleased, Yrminas had once been naive enough to think that such individuals could not exist, because truly how long would they last in Rohan at its peak? No, he was wrong. There were definitely those who honestly were too dimwitted or too shortsighted to care about the next day or day thereafter. By the time a seventh dropped down and was being dragged along for the ride as his foot got caught in a stirrup now they decided to use their shields. A quick eight dropped with his knee impaled, he stayed in the saddle, but he dropped his shield and spear both in shock. "We're not catching up with him! Let him have the girl and leave! We know what we came for!" As if a return of the earlier mockery it was this man who could feel the sting of an arrow point in his hand, forcing him to drop his equipment too. He roared it out in pain, though it wasn't a lethal wound if bound proper. Nine so far. The tenth actually managed catch an arrow with his shield and sped up closely. He drove his horse to its limits and he could try a spear throw, which he was preparing for right now. He was a big man and clearly had the strength for it. Odella looked behind her, "One of them is closing!" Yrminas pulled gently on the reins to the left and grabbed Odella with iron strength. Then he pulled her with him and suddenly they were leaning against Aesche's flank. Overhead the spear of the man flew harmlessly, first sinking in the soft earth and then flipping out again from sheer velocity. Yrminas pulled himself back up and her along with. She hadn't let go. Then with a dextrous move he shot the man point blank in the side and he cried out in frustration and pain. Eleven.
Yrminas looked ahead and gasped as he saw that these bandits had split into a line that was now sweeping towards him. He could've chosen to spin again and outrun them, but it had been a long day and he could tell his steed was tiring. Flecks of foam on Aesche's lips flew everywhere. Yrminas tucked his bow away and pulled out his spear, it was a marvelous looking weapon. Not a mere wooden shaft with an iron spike at the end, there was a true craftsmanship in this one. The blade shaped like a leaf and upon it was a beautiful image of a woman and her children. That was all she could see before she felt a lurch in her stomach. Yrminas was charging headlong towards the line, his pace steady and his weapon held at the ready.
The long line now curled inwards like a crescent about to crumble upon them, trampling man, woman and steed to death with those massive horses of theirs, they'd barely need to use their weapons like this! Odella could see death in the four horses right ahead of them, a few more moments and they would run into the line like a moving wall.
Yrminas suddenly shouted something and Aesche sped up even faster, earth was kicked up high behind the small horse. The man shouted as swiftly as he could, "Lean very low!" They both did and two spear tips missed their stabs, a third handled poorly however hurled a twelfth man out of the saddle with a ripped open side. The man was rolling on the floor and crying in anguish. Yrminas had managed to keep his spear ready for a strike and went for a hard turn that made Aesche snort in surprise.
The leader of the fighters roared with frustration.. in the span of heartbeats more than half his men were dead or wounded. It was only in the last moment his eyes barely having time to widen when this man on his small steed was mere feet away spear tip aimed true. Then pain flashed through his body. He wanted to grab his right arm but his left grabbed nothing but air. Before his men could turn around another felt the cutting power of Yrminas' bloodied spear across his back slicing his cloak in half, but other than that doing naught but leave a long line in the man's leather armor.
Their leader shouted with shock as he tried to keep the wound from bleeding. It was a gruesome sight and his men looked at one another. "Every man for himself!" Then they scattered.
The men following Yrminas came riding in and with practiced ease split themselves in groups of three's and four's to go after those in flight. Odella her eyes went wide as she caught sight of the man who would have taken her sister and herself away to who knows what sort of vile fate. In spite of her anger to see Aedre still squirming to get out of her bonds she felt queasy. Yrminas let out an angry grunt, "Any last words?" A whimper came out of the man, "Don't do this. You needn't let me die. I can share many secrets." Yrminas didn't even blink, "We'll catch the other brigands and they'll tell us what we need to know." The man was starting to slump forward a little and groaned, "Please.." Then his eyes fell shut and he fell off his steed in the long grass.
Odella could hear the breath of the man she was sitting in front of and having a sense for people there she could tell he was calming down, the exterior ease by which he acted not wholly truthful to his inward state of mind. Yrminas cut Aedre's bonds then and spoke, "Can you ride?" Aedre was shivering, the cold finally starting to take its toll on her.. Yrminas gestured to one of his riders and he offered his cloak in the same fashion before taking her on behind him too.
Odella then spoke, "Thank you.", letting out a breath of relief as she said it. "Too soon.", the man answered, "We've on more fight to win this day. All of you who are with me, we ride for the village!"
It was a strange leadership, none of these men seemed particularly beholden to the one at the head. "Why are some of your men staying behind?", Odella asked curiously. She had to. He answered, "They're not my men. They follow me as they see fit or leave as they see fit. If they refuse I won't make them."
It needn't have mattered. The horsemen saw Orcs about to break into the now half torn down palisade, they were starting to get in. Reluctantly so as even from the distance it was clear some bigger ones with whips in hand were bullying them into the fight. The villagers were fighting hard as much out of fear as desperation. Then an archer saw Yrminas and a handful of riders he cried out towards his own and some Orcs looked up. But it was too late for any maneuvers. By spear, sword and hoove did the Eorlings carve a path through the warband that was scattered along these wooden walls to break their way in. All clumped up it might've been dangerous, but not as such. Odella could hear the tormented gurgles and the splintering of wood and bone beneath the horses. And then within the span of a few heartbeats the Orcs did as the brigands and fled in any direction that might seem the path towards safety.
"How can we repay you?", Odella asked. The man snorted and spat the mud from his mouth, "Last through the night daughter of the Riddermark."
