The Family Line Part 7 – Out of the Wold

 

Part 7 – Out of the Wold

Passing Langhold and seeing Harwick coming in the near distance pulled at Theomin’s sense of longing for home. He had never before traveled out of the Wold. All of his travels had taken him just as far south as the memorial of Eorl on the hill not too far from the boarder of the Norcrofts where he used to gaze upon the green grasses of the Norcrofts and take in the wonder that was Cliving, the capital city of the Norcrofts. Its palisade had always been adorned with many flags of a green horse on a white background. They fluttered in the continuous wind giving the city of Cliving a look of great prominence. But that was as far south as he had ever been. He had not even stepped foot in Floodwend and that is still in the southern reaches of the Wold.

As he approached Harwick, he removed the necklace he found from in the Easterling camp. He looked upon it with wonder. Just the golden leaves that surrounded the gem must have been something of great worth. He pondered pawning it off to a merchant in Harwick for a good sum of money. Something told him, though, that he must give it to the people of Langhold. He closed his hand around it, hoping that the necklace would be at least some kind of gesture of gratitude for helping him.

As he entered the city of Harwick the feeling he noticed just two days ago was much different. The heavy feeling of foreboding was not as thick in the atmosphere. Children were, again, playing through the streets, merchants were about selling goods and off duty guards were enjoying a nice ale and music. Life had seemed to be back to normal; that is except for one house.

Theomin reached the lonely house where the refugees were. On the outside it looked abandoned. The shutters were closed and weeds were starting to grow tall around the base of the house. He entered the house. It was just as stuffy and uncomfortable as he remembered when he left it just two days past. Cìllan was sitting next to the fire, longingly staring into it. Her eyes were heavy and dry as if she could not produce any more tears. Theomin approached her with the necklace in his hand.

“Excuse me, my lady.” He said with as much courtesy as he could gather for the Lady of Langhold. She looked up silently. “I just want to return this to you.” He showed Cìllan the necklace. “It belonged to the lady who was standing at the refugee camp.” He looked down. “She must have gone into the camp of the Easterlings. She did not make it out but this was left behind.” He placed the necklace into the palm of Cìllan’s hand.

Cìllan looked at the necklace with her tired eyes. By her look of wonder, it was the first she had ever laid eyes upon it. “Who was out at the tents?” Cìllan questioned Theomin.

“The lady, I know not her name. She was standing in the refugee camp just outside the city.”

“I know not who that is, stranger. Every last refugee who made it out of Langhold is here in this house.”

Confused, Theomin tried to remember back at the moment he saw the lady. He did not imagine her. She spoke to him just as plainly as he was speaking with Cìllan. She told him exactly where to find the refugees. It was no dream and she was not an apparition.

Cìllan’s hand stretched out to Theomin, “This belongs not to any person from Langhold, I am sorry.” She said with certainty and returned it to him. “I would say it was elvish but I know not for certain.” She placed it back into the palm of his hand and closed his hand around it. “It is yours now. Do with it what you feel is right.”

He opened his hand to look upon the necklace. He did not want to feel like a thief who stole a valuable family heirloom from somebody; but he also did not want to go through the whole of Harwick searching for the owner of the necklace. With a sigh, he placed the necklace back in his pocket. He looked back at Cìllan. “Thank you for your time, my lady.”

“Good day, stranger.” She somberly said looking back at the fire.

He exited the house, not sure what to make of the whole encounter with the lady of Langhold and of the lady who was standing just outside of Harwick. He made his way through the city and exited the gate where the refugee encampment was. He did not see any trace of her. Not one. He felt uneasy. He did not want to start off his journey marred with such a question. With great hesitancy, he mounted his horse and started to ride off south.

Theomin stopped half way between Feldberg and Harwick. He breathed in a deep sigh. He looked back, thinking it would not hurt to look for the owner of the necklace. How would his mother see him if she knew he had something that belonged to someone else. He felt filthy like he would look at a brigand with his plunder. “Do with it what you feel is right.” He repeated what Cìllan said. Harwick was not too far away. He could ride back to look for the owner of the necklace.

He started back but just as he moved his horse he heard from behind, “Where are you going, stranger?” He looked around to see a man in raggedy clothes. Holding in his hand was a bow with an arrow drawn back, ready to fire at any second. The arrow had already been stained with former victims’ blood. The man had a scowl on his unshaved dirty face. His hair was long, greasy, and unkempt. There was a peculiar smell about him, some type of alcohol permeated the air around him. “And do not think I will not kill you. Where are you going?”

Theomin was taken aback by the man who seized the chance to take advantage of his lack of vigilance on the road. He just stuttered, “Ba…back to Harwick.”

“Empty your pockets. Give me everything you have.” The man commanded with a growl still with his arrow drawn back.

If there was any time for Eotheron to find him on his way to his farm, that would have been the perfect time. But he did not come at that time or any other time after. He was on his own. So Theomin did as he was told. He dismounted from his horse, opened his horse’s bag, and threw out his water bladder and his rations. He did not dare drop the necklace. He then took out the book and dropped it on the ground. It opened to a particular page called “Light of the Rising Dawn.” He looked at the words on the page and then back at the brigand who was impatiently waiting for his booty. He was not about to be robbed by that filthy brigand so as he raised his staff he looked at the brigand and yelled out the words on the page.

A sudden tingling sensation engulfed Theomin’s body then a light, seemingly out of nowhere flashed and came from the heavens striking the man in front of him, knocking him to the ground and out cold for a few seconds. During that time, Theomin was able to regain his wits, flipping to another page as quickly as possible. He knew there was something else he could use to incapacitate the man. The brigand got up too quickly and started for Theomin. With the staff, he struck down the brigand, hopefully incapacitating him.

Theomin did not wait for him to rise. He quickly gathered his belongings, mounted his horse and rode as swiftly as he could away from the brazen brigand. He periodically looked back but did not see anyone following him. Theomin slowed his horse. He was breathing heavily but felt a sudden exhilaration he never before felt. His readings of lore finally came to him. He started to remember the teachings he was given as a young man. He now had a way of channeling all those teachings through the staff he was given by his father. Theomin looked at his staff and gave it a kiss of approval. “I will name you, Eölf, after the only father I have ever known and loved.”

The necklace passed from his thought as he reflected on what just happened and that exhilaration he felt though it started to subside. He thought about all he could do to protect himself on the road south to the tower. Theomin started with small simple skills like signs of power. He then moved on to more potent and deadly skills such as sending burning embers at a target, wind-lore, and setting things a-blaze. He looked around for targets and noticed boars. He was close to Feldburg where there were a large number of boars, whose populations needed to be controlled. He targeted one and sent a flame toward the boar. It caught on fire, which enraged the boar. He sent a gust of wind which slowed the boar but did not stop it. Finally, it was too close so he decided to smack it with his staff. It hit with such a force that a bolt of lightning shot out from the sky, struck the boar and killed it.

After shielding his face from the light and boom from the bolt, Theomin stood still trying to take in what had just happened. He recovered from stunned feeling of the lightning bolt he looked back at his staff. That was the second time he hit something with his staff. He looked at it and said aloud, “Incredible! But I am going to break you if I am not careful.” He knew he had to improve on his timing and potency of his skills. He targeted another boar and sent a fire-ball at it. It enraged that one too and he then sent a gust of wind. Again, neither of those skills stopped the boar. Quickly, he sent out a blinding flash, stopping and confusing the boar. Theomin excitedly took that opportunity to run away, and quickly sent another fireball toward the boar, and finally finished it off with flash of lightening; in effect killing the boar and sending a massive amount of charged electricity through his body. With amazement, Theomin’s excitement grew exponentially.

“If only I was able to do this while finding Eotheron.” He mused.

Through the afternoon, Theomin tried out a number of new skills and combinations at his disposal on unsuspecting boars and even a band of wargs that were invading the southern area of Feldburg. He was told at a young age these skills were powerful if he had a way to channel them but he never knew they were so awe-inspiring. Taking his skills to a warren of wargs proved even more successful wiping them out and sending the rest fleeing. Not even the guards of Feldburg could accomplish that task and he did it in the course of only a half hour.

He wondered how well he could do on horseback. He climbed onto Bragga and rode down even more wargs at a faster pace. He had great excitement but not for bloodlust. It was excitement for his journey ahead for the foreboding and regret he was feeling earlier in the day had washed away with his new found abilities. He knew that whatever came his way he would be okay.

Practicing his skills took him all of the afternoon and with the sun sinking in the west, Theomin decided to continue on south through the Wold. As his journey continued, he was delighted to see the flickering flames of the outpost of Twickenburg coming. Though he was feeling confident with his skills, his confidence continued to fall as the light of the sun’s rays glimmered away. At night anything could jump out at him.

As he was passing the outpost, some of the guards paused only a moment to give a wave to Theomin. They quickly went back to their vigilance, watching for anything suspicious. Theomin nodded toward the men on post as a kind gesture for their help in giving him the gift of ease. It took him close to a half hour before he approached a fork in the road leading either to Floodwend or on south to the Norcrofts. Either he could turn left into the town of Floodwend for the night or he would continue on south to the Elthengels. Remembering the map, he knew if he continued on to the Elthengels it would be a long and treacherous ride through foreign terrain he had never traversed.

It was becoming too dark for him to navigate around paths and so after some deliberation with himself he made the decision to stay in Floodwend for the night. He had never set foot in Floodwend so he did not know what to expect. Making his way into the small town he noticed, like all other towns of the Wold, there was one dominant structure, that being the mead hall. Theomin stabled his horse and approached the stable master, “Excuse me, where can I find any lodging here?”

The stable master seemed bothered by Theomin interrupting him. He continued without answering, ignoring Theomin. As Theomin cleared his throat loud enough for the stable master to hear, he growled through his teeth, “We do not treat with visitors here. Find another town to bring your bones.”

Taken back by the sheer rudeness by the man, Theomin tried to pursue his questioning as he did not want to spend the night outside the safety of any walls. “Is there some other person I may speak with?”

Visibly aggravated the man stopped brushing his horse and looked at Theomin, “You can bother the tavern owner by the market.” he said with a growl. “Now allow me to finish brushing my horse,” he went back to obsessively brushing his horse and counted three times in one spot, then three times in another, then three times in another.

Completely turned off by the man’s rude and unusual behavior, Theomin turned and looked for the market. Crossing the small Floodwend Bridge he turned right toward the only place people seemed to be gathered. There was loud music and stomping and thumping around as some of the residence of the town were in the middle of some type of party. Ignoring all the ruckus outside, he entered the structure and it was indeed a tavern. He approached the tavern keep.

“Excuse me, do you have any accommodations?” Theomin asked, hoping not to receive the same reception but half expecting it.

The tavern keep looked at Theomin, seemingly trying to determine if he was a friend or foe. “After that attack on Langhold, Floodwend has not been lodging strangers.” Theomin looked visibly upset by the news. “You are not from around here, are you stranger?”

“I am really from just north of Langhold. At a little farm close to the northern border of Rohan.”

“Are you?” The tavern keep said, warily. “I would not have thought you were from Rohan with from the look of your dark hair.”

Theomin did not want to go through the whole story about where he was from. “In fact I am, and I saw what happened in Langhold too.” He said hoping to stem the tavern keeps suspicion but really made his suspicion worse.

“And what were you doing in Langhold?”

“I told you I am from a farm north of Langhold.”

“You did.” The tavern keep still seemed suspicous. “Where was this farm you were talking about?”

The tavern keep did not seem trusting in Theomin at all. He finally broke down and decided to tell his story anyway in the hopes of the man letting him stay somewhere in Floodwend. “Northern border of Rohan. In truth, I really miss my family. I know I do not look like a man from the Wold because I was adopted. That is why I am out here. I am looking for my real family.”

With a drop of sympathy the tavern keep leaned next to Theomin whispering, “Look, I mean no offence. After Langhold, we have all been on edge, you most of all I am sure. I doubt anyone will be checking behind this tavern. How about you sleep back there for the night.”

Theomin had hoped for something he was more used to, like a bed, for his first night on his journey. He smiled and thanked the tavern keep.

“I wish I could do something more for you, young lad. That is the safest place for you these days.”

With that he thanked the man and left the tavern. He stood next to a fence looking around, hoping nobody would notice him hopping over the fence. With all the merriment, drinking and loud conversations, there was no chance anybody would see him. He hopped the fence and quickly slipped to the back of the tavern.

A thick bed of uncut weeds covered the back of tavern ground. Theomin looked at the weeds with gloom, wishing he was in his own bed in his own house on his own farm. With reluctance he decided to lay down in the weeds and stared up at the stars. A soft cool breeze of the coming fall came through rustling the leaves and fluttering the Floodwend flag in the nearby watch tower.

Theomin’s thoughts drifted to his family. “How are they coping with my absence?” he wondered. He remembered all of the times he and his mother would stay awake lay in the wagon next to the house and stair up watching the stars in the sky, occasionally seeing a shooting star cross the heavens. He exhaled and wondered if his mother was looking at the same stars as he was. As the night rolled on he thought of the last memory he had of his mother running out and hugging him. If she only knew this first night he would be sleeping outside like a beggar.

Dwelling on his family started to chip away at his mental strength he had developed through the course of the day. He cleared his mind with the attempt to finally fall asleep. He was exhausted from the journey thus far. He closed his eyes and the last thing he envisioned was the face of his mother as he drifted to slumber.