The House of the Wolfings
gainsay this rule and order. In sooth they are a people mighty, but
unhappy."
Said Wolfkettle:
"And hast thou learned all this from the ancient story lays, O Hiarandi?
For some of them I know, though not all, and therein have I noted nothing
of all this. Is there some new minstrel arisen in thine House of a
memory excelling all those that have gone before? If that be so, I bid
him to the Roof of the Wolfings as soon as may be; for we lack new
tales."
"Nay," said Hiarandi, "This that I tell thee is not a tale of past days,
but a tale of to-day. For there came to us a man from out of the wild-
wood, and prayed us peace, and we gave it him; and he told us that he was
of a House of the Gael, and that his House had been in a great battle
against these Welshmen, whom he calleth the Romans; and that he was taken
in the battle, and sold as a thrall in one of their garths; and howbeit,
it was not their master-garth, yet there he learned of their customs: and
sore was the lesson! Hard was his life amongst them, for their thralls
be not so well entreated as their draught-beasts, so many do they take in
battle; for they are a mighty folk; and these thralls and those aforesaid
unhappy freemen do all tilling and herding and all deeds of
craftsmanship: and above these are men whom they call masters and lords
who do nought, nay not so much as smithy their own edge-weapons, but
linger out their days in their dwellings and out of their dwellings,
lying about in the sun or the hall-cinders, like cur-dogs who have fallen
away from kind.
"So this man made a shift to flee away from out of that garth, since it
was not far from the great river; and being a valiant man, and young and
mighty of body, he escaped all perils and came to us through the
Mirkwood. But we saw that he was no liar, and had been very evilly
handled, for upon his body was the mark of many a stripe, and of the
shackles that had been soldered on to his limbs; also it was more than
one of these accursed people whom he had slain when he fled. So he
became our guest and we loved him, and he dwelt among us and yet
dwelleth, for we have taken him into our House. But yesterday he was
sick and might not ride with us; but may be he will follow on and catch
up with us in a day or two. And if he come not, then will I bring him
over to the Wolfings when the battle is done."
Then laughed the Beaming man, and spake:
"How then if ye come not back, nor Wolfkettle, nor the Welsh Guest, nor I
myself? Meseemeth no one of these Southland Cities shall we behold, and
no more of the Southlanders than their war-array."
"These are evil words," said Wolfkettle, "though such an outcome must be
thought on. But why deemest thou this?"
Said the Beaming: "There is no Hall-Sun sitting under our Roof at home to
tell true tales concerning the Kindred every day. Yet forsooth from time
to time is a word said in our Folk-hall for good or for evil; and who can
choose but hearken thereto? And yestereve was a woeful word spoken, and
that by a man-child of ten winters."
Said the Elking: "Now that thou hast told us thus much, thou must tell us
more, yea, all the word which was spoken; else belike we shall deem of it
as worse than it was."
Said the Beaming: "Thus it was; this little lad brake out weeping
yestereve, when the Hall was full and feasting; and he wailed, and roared
out, as children do, and would not be pacified, and when he was asked why
he made that to do, he said: 'Well away! Raven hath promised to make me
a clay horse and to bake it in the kiln with the pots next week; and now
he goeth to the war, and he shall never come back, and never shall my
horse be made.' Thereat we all laughed as ye may well deem. But the lad
made a sour countenance on us and said, 'why do ye laugh? look yonder,
what see ye?' 'Nay,' said one, 'nought but the Feast-hall wall and the
hangings of the High-tide thereon.' Then said the lad sobbing: 'Ye see
ill: further afield see I: I see a little plain, on a hill top, and fells
beyond it far bigger than our speech-hill: and there on the plain lieth
Raven as white as parchment; and none hath such hue save the dead.' Then
said Raven, (and he was a young man, and was standing thereby). 'And
well is that, swain, to die in harness! Yet hold up thine heart; here is
Gunbert who shall come back and bake thine horse for thee.' 'Nay never
more,' quoth the child, 'For I see his pale head lying at Raven's feet;
but his body with the green gold-broidered kirtle I see not.' Then was
the laughter stilled, and man after man drew near to the child, and
questioned him, and asked, 'dost thou see me?' 'dost thou see me?' And
he failed to see but few of those that asked him. Therefore now
meseemeth that not many of us shall see the cities of the South, and
those few belike shall look on their own shackles therewithal."
"Nay," said Hiarandi, "What is all this? heard ye ever of a company of
fighting men that fared afield, and found the foe, and came back home
leaving none behind them?"
Said the Beaming: "Yet seldom have I heard a child foretell the death of
warriors. I tell thee that hadst thou been there, thou wouldst have
thought of it as if the world were coming to an end."
"Well," said Wolfkettle, "let it be as it may! Yet at least I will not
be led away from the field by the foemen. Oft may a man be hindered of
victory, but never of death if he willeth it."
Therewith he handled a knife that hung about his neck, and went on to
say: "But indeed, I do much marvel that no word came into the mouth of
the Hall-Sun yestereven or this morning, but such as any woman of the
kindred might say."
Therewith fell their talk awhile, and as they rode they came to where the
wood drew nigher to the river, and thus the Mid-mark had an end; for
there was no House had a dwelling in the Mid-mark higher up the water
than the Elkings, save one only, not right great, who mostly fared to war
along with the Elkings: and this was the Oselings, whose banner bore the
image of the Wood-ousel, the black bird with the yellow neb; and they had
just fallen into the company of the greater House.
So now Mid-mark was over and past, and the serried trees of the wood came
down like a wall but a little way from the lip of the water; and
scattered trees, mostly quicken-trees grew here and there on the very
water side. But Mirkwood-water ran deep swift and narrow between high
clean-cloven banks, so that none could dream of fording, and not so many
of swimming its dark green dangerous waters. And the day wore on towards
evening and the glory of the western sky was unseen because of the wall
of high trees. And still the host made on, and because of the narrowness
of the space between river and wood it was strung out longer and looked a
very great company of men. And moreover the men of the eastern-lying
part of Mid-mark, were now marching thick and close on the other side of
the river but a little way from the Wolfings and their fellows; for
nothing but the narrow river sundered them.
So night fell, and the stars shone, and the moon rose, and yet the
Wolfings and their fellows stayed not, since they wotted that behind them
followed a many of the men of the Mark, both the Mid and the Nether, and
they would by no means hinder their march.
So wended the Markmen between wood and stream on either side of Mirkwood-
water, till now at last the night grew deep and the moon set, and it was
hard on midnight, and they had kindled many torches to light them on
either side of the water. So whereas they had come to a place where the
trees gave back somewhat from the river, which was well-grassed for their
horses and neat, and was called Baitmead, the companies on the western
side made stay there till morning. And they drew the wains right up to
the thick of the wood, and all men turned aside into the mead from the
beaten road, so that those who were following after might hold on their
way if so they would. There then they appointed watchers of the night,
while the rest of them lay upon the sward by the side of the trees, and
slept through the short summer night.
The tale tells not that any man dreamed of the fight to come in such wise
that there was much to tell of his dream on the morrow; many dreamed of
no fight or faring to war, but of matters little, and often laughable,
mere mingled memories of bygone time that had no waking wits to marshal
them.
But that man of the Beamings dreamed that he was at home watching a
potter, a man of the thralls of the House working at his wheel, and
fashioning bowls and ewers: and he had a mind to take of his clay and
fashion a horse for the lad that had bemoaned the promise of his toy. And
he tried long and failed to fashion anything; for the clay fell to pieces
in his hands; till at last it held together and grew suddenly, not into
an image of a horse, but of the Great Yule Boar, the similitude of the
Holy Beast of Frey. So he laughed in his sleep and was glad, and leaped
up and drew his sword with his clay-stained hands that he might wave it
over the Earth Boar, and swear a great oath of a doughty deed. And
therewith he found himself standing on his feet indeed, just awakened in
the cold dawn, and holding by his right hand to an ash-sapling that grew
beside him. So he laughed again, and laid him down, and leaned back and
slept his sleep out till the sun and the voices of his fellows stirring
awakened him.
CHAPTER VII--THEY GATHER TO THE FOLK-MOTE
When it was the morning, all the host of the Markmen was astir on either
side of the water, and when they had broken their fast, they got speedily
into array, and were presently on the road again; and the host was now
strung out longer yet, for the space between water and wood once more
diminished till at last it was no wider than ten men might go abreast,
and looking ahead it was as if the wild-wood swallowed up both river and
road.
But the fighting-men hastened on merrily with their hearts raised high,
since they knew that they would soon be falling in with more of their
people, and the coming fight was growing a clearer picture to their eyes;
so from side to side of the river they shouted out the cries of their
Houses, or friend called to friend across the eddies of Mirkwood-water,
and there was game and glee enough.
So they fared till the wood gave way before them, and lo, the beginning
of another plain, somewhat like the Mid-mark. There also the water
widened out before them, and there were eyots in it with stony shores
crowned with willow or with alder, and aspens rising from the midst of
them.
But as for the plain, it was thus much different from Mid-mark, that the
wood which begirt it rose on the south into low hills, and away beyond
them were other hills blue in the distance, for the most bare of wood,
and not right high, the pastures of the wild-bull and the bison, whereas
now dwelt a folk somewhat scattered and feeble; hunters and herdsmen,
with little tillage about their abodes, a folk akin to the Markmen and
allied to them. They had come into those parts later than the Markmen,
as the old tales told; which said moreover that in days gone by a folk
dwelt among those hills who were alien from the Goths, and great foes to
the Markmen; and how that on a time they came down from their hills with
a great host, together with new-comers of their own blood, and made their
way through the wild-wood, and fell upon the Upper-mark; and how that
there befel a fearful battle that endured for three days; and the first
day the Aliens worsted the Markmen, who were but a few, since they were
they of the Upper-mark only. So the Aliens burned their houses and slew
their old men, and drave off many of their women and children; and the