Reckoning - Part I

So we travelled West, on the great West road, north of Ered Nimrais; the white mountains. I remember the ghostly, horned peaks looming in the distance, disembodied above all in the fog, like great snow shrouded colossi - perhaps portentous of the impending repercussions of our flight from Malrond and Minas Tirith… The first few nights were hard and the lady sought solace, away from the campfire in the dark of night, to console or berate herself; I do not know. I was humble indeed for the sacrifice she had made to be with me, to risk all for our love, and respected her wishes to be alone. We had procured a rough cart and some hardy work horses for our journey North-west and though we endured relative hardships, the further we travelled from Minas Tirith and Gondor, the more our moods lightened and the hope of tomorrow blossomed within us both. The journey was arduous but relatively free from calamity and peril, perhaps echoing the promise we held for the future. We dared to dream lofty dreams of finding happiness together in the bliss of our union, settling down, even starting a family. On our passage through the East-fold she came to me one night, after one of her communions alone in the dark and told me the most wondrous news; of the child she carried, our child, the consummation of our love. We learned to hope, to love anew; to put our trust in life and each other and the shadows of the past were dispelled… And so, after an onerous, momentous journey we happened upon the rolling green pastures, meadows and forests of Bree-land and we decided together to find a home in which to bear and raise our expected child. As chance would have it, we found a wonderful farmstead, away from the town of Bree and though it was somewhat dilapidated, we knew it was perfect. We used all of our remaining gold to purchase the property and set to building a home. Now heavy with child, the lady took to settling herself within the homestead while I managed to find employment as a blacksmith in and around Bree. Though I initially held the town of Bree in mild contempt, to be approached with caution, I soon made acquaintances, one could even say friends, with some of the local folk and all was looking promising… I remember the last time I saw her… She stood in the doorway, clutching her stomach, ripe with child and smiled to me as I cast a look back at her. It was the same smile; that enigmatic, secret smile she had blessed me with the very first day of our meeting. I imagine now, in retrospect, that there was a hint of consternation there, a knowing of the gathering cloud… They came to the farmstead while I was away… Will; a local farmboy who had taken a shine to us came to me late that afternoon. He had run all the way from the farmstead, out of breath and flustered with panic. He hurriedly told me of the ‘visitors’; a band of foul looking armed men that had arrived at the Farmhouse. Between catching his breath, he said there was a commotion, a fracas and then the lady was seen fleeing into the Chetwood with the mercenaries in tow. I was stricken with dread and fear. Grabbing a forester’s axe I dashed home as if all the hounds of the enemy were upon my heels. I pushed myself, hard and fast, drawing upon some preternatural reserve to make it back to the farmstead in good time, back to her… The farmhouse stood still as the grave in the twilight of dusk, empty and bereft of all previous warmth and character. The front door stood ajar, dark and gaping. I pictured her there as she had been earlier that day… The chairs and table inside were out of place or knocked down; signs of a struggle. I left the house and hurried into the forest, rapidly scanning the earth and undergrowth for signs of their passage… I can not say how long I searched, but I found her… She lay there in the encroaching shadows of the growing dark; huddled motionless, her broken, bloodied body contorted at perverse angles. I looked momentarily into her eyes – glassy wide, vacant eyes staring up, her face frozen in a rictus of pain and fear – and was lost in their indifferent, dispassionate, unfathomable emptiness. The blood; it trickled slowly, reluctantly, into the earth, the colour too rich, too real for such a scene. I took her in my arms, cradling her broken cadaver and wept to the indifferent trees.