The Bastard. (Part Two)

Hooves clomped slow and steadily along the dusty path, overgrown with weeds as far as the eye could see. The North-South road, or the Greenway as they called it this far north, was beautiful in the spring. Flowers bloomed through the valley, the woods were verdant as could be, and grass rose as high as a Man in some places. The wagon rumbled along, pulled by only one steed now. A miscalculation during the winter months had forced Faegor to trade their second off in exchange for enough rations to see the small family through to the end of spring.

“Yeeeeeeeee!” squealed the nappy haired boy as he crawled out from beneath the canvas covering the supplies, and tried to scramble over the divide where his parents sat. Fortunately it was easy for a two year old to stay entertained while trapped in a wagon. No shortage of peek-a-boo and hide and seek to be played. Unfortunately they still had to deal with a two year old trapped in a wagon.

Danni smiled, lips turning up when she brought a finger to them, “Shhh, Falros.” The woman picked him up, his legs kicking playfully until she brought him over and set him in her lap where he squirmed and tried to reach for anything he could get his mischievous little hands on. “You need to be quiet, little one.”

Faegor sat with reins in hand and paid no mind to his mistress nor son, his attention fully focused on the old road ahead, and the tall grass and woods that lined it.

The boy nodded eagerly and kept his voice to a low whisper, “Yes, mama.” He settled without getting fussy, hands clasping in his lap when his attention was grabbed by a small flock of black birds flying in the distance.

It had been just over three years since they had left the great port city in Gondor far to the south, and now they were only a few days from their destination. The small family had traveled from town to town, and village to village looking for a proper place to settle. None of which could compare to Pelargir, and none would satisfy Faegor’s wishes for them. No, he needed a bustling trade center. He wanted the best for his young mistress and son. With trouble seeming to brew around Eriador, it was pushing both merchant and traveler steadily through Bree-Town. Or so Faegor had been told. High hopes had led them far from their home city, and after three long years the end was finally in sight.

Shadows grew long from the woods as the sun began to set, and Faegor encouraged his tired steed to pull faster. The stretch of valley and woods was not a place to safely camp and the father had hoped to see them beyond it before night was fully upon them.

It was not to be. As the woods drew nearer to the road and the valley narrowed, hooves came thundering out from the shadows. Two massive steeds whinnied as their riders halted them upon the road, blocking the wagon from a distance.

They had dealt with brigands before, and Faegor was quick to bark orders at his mistress. Despite Danni’s surging panic, she kept as calm as could be, plucked her son from her lap and swung him over to place him in the wagon. She lifted the canvas tarp and spoke low to the boy, “Falros. Remember what father taught you. No matter what happens, stay under.” The little boy nodded. He was oblivious to the danger facing them, but he did as told and ducked beneath the tarp to hide amongst the supplies.

The Man of Gondor pulled hard upon the reins and when his steed stiffened its hooves slid against the old dirt road with the weight of the wagon still pushing them. Once it settled, they sat in a thick cloud of dust, giving Faegor a moment of planning. Crossbow was drawn and bolt nocked with deft precision. The man turned to leap from the wagon and was met with a loud crack.

A club of gnarled oak smashed against the man’s face, knocking him unconscious in an instant. It came down again as the body crumpled to the road, and his skull caved in. The mistress had no time to scream. Another had stepped through the cloud to wrap an arm about her, palm smothering her mouth. The brute twisted with a grunt, snapping her neck where she sat, and dragged her limp corpse out to leave it in the road.

The two brigands leapt into the wagon and took their place. Leather snapped and the steed was off again, tiredly galloping toward the woods.