The Family Line Part 12 – Shadow’s Coup

The Family Line Part 12 – Shadow’s Coup

For what felt like a very long while, the band of riders circled the windmill, taunting and teasing Theomin. Their calls and threats were not being met by Theomin as he knew they would be met with death. So he just stayed inside, not buying into their taunts. All he could do was wait at the door of the windmill and be ready to fight them at the foot of the door.

Soon the loud rumbling and the laughter and the taunts turned to terror and cries. The cries were coming from those who were taunting him. An even greater set of thumping was heard and clanging from the men who had given Theomin the run of his life. Only a five minutes passed and the howls stopped.

With all caution Theomin looked out. The area around the windmill was clear. He looked around the windmill only to see a great band of rohirrim horsemen. One of them, the leader presumably, was a tall man, bearded, with a look of honor and bravery. The man dismounted from his horse and approached Theomin.

“It was brave of you to wander the planes of Rohan alone, stranger.” The man said with a deep, confident voice. “You must be on some errand of great importance.”

Theomin grabbed the man’s hand. “No more than yours I deem.” He looked at the group of riders and then back at the man. “If it was not for you and your riders, the same fate would have befallen me as those riders who stalked me.”

“It looks like we came in time. What were you doing by yourself out here?” The man asked.

“I am heading to Woodhurst by way of Stoke. I stopped there for rations, headed out and this was the outcome.” He continued after looking again at the man’s riders, who looked antsy. “And what are you doing out here?”

“These happened to be invading Dunlandings but my men and I are hunting orcs. The orcs we have encountered of late seem different than Mordor orcs. They bear the white hand. The white hand of the white wizard.” The man said in a low tone.

“The white wizard?” Which baffled Theomin. “Saruman? It cannot be. He has been nothing but an ally to Rohan.”

“It would seem his allegiance broke when he sent out his orcs and uruk-hai to terrorize and pillage our land.”

“Does Theoden King know of this?”

The man looked down as if feeling angry defeat. “Saruman has many allies. Though I know not directly, I believe Theoden King’s is under some spell. His advisor, I am sure, is in service of Saruman.”

“How would you know this?”

“I have seen it with my own eyes. I am his nephew, and the third martial of the Riddemark. My name is Eomir. My sister Eowen sees it too and day by day his mind is continually poisoned by his advisor.”

At that moment, one of Eomir’s riders came upon them very quickly. “My lord, a great party of Uruk-hai has been seen heading west through the Entash Vale.”

Eomir mounted his horse and started north with the rest of the riders. “Stay safe, friend, and keep clear of Edoras. That town is ill with spies.”

With that, the great host of horsemen road north toward the Entwash Vale and disappeared in the distance. Darkness was coming upon him. He knew he had to muster all strength to make it to Woodhurst before late. He mounted his horse and made his way west. He steered clear of Torsburry, breaking off from the path that headed toward that overthrown town. He continued west through the dry brushes of the Broadacers until he met up with the path and again continued along it to the Stonedeans.

In the distance he could see the mead hall of Woodhurst sitting upon the eastern edge of the Misty Mountains. Approaching the gate, the guard did not even seem to mind him passing through. He continued in and found an almost empty town. Very few people were out and about. Suspicious as it was, Theomin just wanted to have a drink and have a rest.

He found a general store not too far from the entrance, dismounted and headed inside. A few towns people were manning the shop, with what he thought was the head of the store at the back. Theomin approached him first.

“Hello, I have a few questions if you do not mind.”

The man just said, “Okay,” with his arms crossed impatiently waiting.

Theomin leaned over to the counter. “Is this the town of Woodhurst? I need a place to stay.”

“This is the town of Woodhurst. Ask Gifemund. He usually has a few bunks in the mill. Just head south until you see some rail tracks for rail cars. They will head into the mill. Remember, it is not a hostel, it is an actual working mill so do not be surprised if he says no.”

“Thank you, Theomin said and headed out of the store. He walked south to the tracks and headed into the mill where a man was standing, looking at schematics.

“Excuse me, sir.” Theomin interrupted him. He turned. “I am looking to use one of your bunks.”

The man looked at another man, scrubbing his hands as he walked into the mill. “Can I help you stranger?”

“Oh,” Theomin looked at the other man, and then back at the person who just walked in. “Are you Gifemund?”

“In the flesh and at your service.”

“Well, sir, I need a place to sleep and I was told…”

“That you can stay here.” He finished. “I am always the bunk man.” He continued, “I can offer you a bunk for some coin.” The man said shrewdly.

Theomin looked down. “I have no coin to offer. I am sorry.”

“Well,” he continued, “you must have something of value on you. Or you can work in the mine. Or you can help me collect bear skins if you are up for the task.”

None of the options sounded enticing for Theomin. It was too late and it was too long of a day to go hunting or work in any mine. He dug into his bag to scrounge for coin while asking, “How much are you offering the beds for?”

“Ten coins.”

“Ten?” He said with shock. “Who walks around with ten coins in his bag?” He looked deep in his bag but could only find six. “I have six coins here.”

Quickly Gifemund took the coins, “I will take those.” He motioned him toward the bunks. “Welcome to Gifemund’s Bunk Land.”

Theomin thought that was a terrible name but was not about to argue with the man. He thanked him and continued on to the bunks. “Will my property be safe?”

“My good stranger,” Gifemund shrewdly said, “That is what the four extra coins were for. If you wanted your belongings safe, you should have paid the full price.”

Theomin held his bag and staff closely. “Thank you.” Was all he could say to the man who took all his money. He just hoped nobody else would bleed him dry. Before turning in for the night, he asked one more question, “What is the closest town to the Gap of Rohan?”

“That answer will cost you.” Gifemund answered again shrewdly. “But seeing as how you gave all your money anyway, I will waive the fee and offer the answer as a bundle to your already existing bunk purchase.”

Theomin just looked at Gifemund confused. He was not sure what exactly the man was saying. He understood the words he was saying but not in the order or context he was saying them. “Does that mean you are telling me?” Theomin gave up trying to figure out what the man said.

“Of course I will. I was trying to let you know that the offer…,” he saw the confusion in Theomin’s eyes, “forget it.” Gifemund gave up. “Marton is the closest town. Your safer bet would be Helm’s Deep or Gapholt, as Marton is too close to the gap.”

“I will remember that. And thank you for the free advice.” He did not want to pursue further as he did not want unintended fees to be included on his tab. He turned to his lumpy, hard bunk, holding his belongings close, and after the day of chaos, he fell to a quick sleep.

Night was long as the bed was horrible. He could not believe he had no money and the bed he was sleeping in was so lumpy and too hard. Each time he came to consciousness he checked for his belongings which were still there.

As the night progressed over the typical chirping of the crickets, whispering outside of the mill woke Theomin. He tried to ignore them but the sound continued to nag at him. He started to listen to what they were saying. It sounded like two men. One shushed the other.

“Shh,” he whispered, “we have a guest in one of the bunks.”

“So how will this all happen?” Whispered the other eagerly.

“We walk into the mead hall. They will not expect anything. I plan on first slitting the throat of the thane. You then kill his son as the other four kill the rest of the family and anyone else who’s remaining in there.”

Theomin could not believe what he was hearing. A few steps were heard outside and then one of the men peeped from around the door. Theomin acted as if he was peacefully sleeping. As he pretended to sleep he could hear one of the men walk close to Theomin and look in his face. He braced himself for some kind of attack which never came. He could hear and feel him breathing on him. In a few moments, Theomin could hear the man move away and went back outside. Sweat was dripping from his head as he was almost sure the person was going to harm him in some way. Theomin was glad he stayed his hand as they could most likely over power him.

The whispering continued, “He is out. So, what about the guards at the front of the mead hall?”

“Have no worry. Guards in this town are paid with scraps. It was not tough to pay them off.”

“Tomorrow, eh?” The other said. “I am in. How many are helping?”

“I own the muscle in this town. I have enough.”

It sounded like the conspiring stopped as the two stopped talking.

Sleep did not come to Theomin after that. He just wanted out of that accursed town he was in. There was a foul stench of revolution he did not want to be witness to. As dawn came he crawled out of bed, still stiff from the hard, lumpy bed and the lack of sleep for fear of what was going to happen. He left the mill and looked for the nearest guard. He approached the guard, with the news. “Excuse me, sir.”

The guard, tired and warn, looked at Theomin. “What is it?”

“I heard of some talk of ill tidings for the thane.” Theomin said.

“Take that up with the captain of the guard. He’s usually around the fountain.”

“I will, and thank you.”

Theomin found the captain at the center of town. He looked like a rough type, perhaps half Rohirrim and half Dunlanding. He did not look too kindly which made him think twice before approaching him with the news.

“Excuse me, sir.” Theomin said with all kindness.

The captain of the guard snapped at Theomin, “What is it?”

“I have heard word of a revolution in this town…”

“I need no rumors here.” The captain sharply said. “I hear things like that all the time from people who live here. I certainly do not need it from some stranger in my town.”

Taken back, Theomin tried his best to convince the captain, “But I heard it last night outside the mill. It will happen today I know not…”

“And who was talking?” The captain interrupted, waited for an answer. “Hmm?” He waited more. “I have enough on my plate than to worry about what some foreigner believes he heard from people he did not see.” Theomin said nothing, he was flush with embarrassment that he could not convince the captain. “Leave me, stranger.”

Theomin left, a lump in his throat formed from the ugly way the captain lashed out at him. A tear came to his eye which he quickly brushed off. A tear for the people of Woodhurst and the horrors they were going to see there. What good would a revolution do with such unspeakable horrors happening in the rest of Rohan.

As Theomin approached his horse he saw a small family waiting beside a wagon. The man looked as if he was exhausted. The woman was talking to her daughter who was sitting on a barrel. She looked familiar. She strangely reminded Theomin of his little sister back on his farm. The way she innocently looked her mother for loving affection and solace for whatever pains she witnessed on the road to Woodhurst. They looked like they had just arrived at Woodhurst since they were just next to the entrance.

Compassion flooded Theomin’s body as he wanted to tell them to leave. He knew what was going to take place. He knew not why the family was there but he knew they needed to leave. He approached the family. The woman saw him first. She looked at Theomin. “Can I help you?”

“I…” It was difficult to say anything after what happened with the captain. “You have to leave.”

“Sir,” the woman said, “we just arrived here. We are not leaving this place.”

“This place is not safe for you. Go back to where you came from.”

The woman looked at Theomin as if he was crazy. “We are not going back there. We came here to be safe behind these walls.”

“These walls will not shield you from within. There is talk of revolution but I know not from who. It will happen some time today.”

The husband finally spoke up. “Then where do you propose we go? Back to Torsbury? I think not. We just arrived here. Our rations are low and we are in need of supplies.”

Theomin walked to his horse, stabled next to the wagon. He removed whatever rations he received back in Stoke by the generous tavern keep there. “Take mine. I can find more on the road but I urge you to leave this town and not to look back.”

The man shook his head, “We cannot accept…”

“I am giving it to you. Leave this place.” He pulled out his map. There is a town I believe just south of here. Brockbridge is the name. I believe you will find safety there. Now, please leave this place.”

The man and woman looked at each other. Their daughter stared at her parents, waiting for a decision from them. The mother shook her head, as if she did not want to leave. He took the rations. “Brockbridge you say.” He sighed. “Thank you for your help, sir. My wife and I have a decision to make. Leave us.”

Theomin left the bewildered family.  There was so much despair in Rohan. The one place that seemed immune from the horrors of the rest of Rohan was suffering from internal conflict. That seemed unfair to Theomin. The town could have weathered the storm. Now it is left vulnerable. He had to leave.

He finally mounted his horse and left through the closest exit to the stables. He turned south to travel along the eastern foot of the Misty Mountains as far south as he could to reach to Marton or Helm’s Deep. Looking back he felt pity for those still stuck in the accursed town. He just hoped that family he sent away was going to find safety in Brockbridge.