Brothers In Arms: A Middle Earth Story

Chapter 9: The Cottage

"Get back or I'll put an arrow though your skull, I swear to Eru!" A shrill voice cried. 

A young woman stood before me, a fully drawn hunting bow in her hands. She couldn't have been any older than twenty years old, and her small frame struggled to keep the bow pulled back. Nonetheless, I could tell that she meant what she had said, and seeing that I was no orc hadn't eased her nerves.

A split second later the back door broke off its hinges and Eradan and Uirion entered, fierce expressions on their faces. The woman turned her aim to them, slowly backing into a corner of the cottage. The sudden wail of an infant made me realize why she was being so protective, and I noticed that she had backed in front of a small cradle.  I immediately held my hands out in front of me in a gesture of goodwill, careful to move slowly so she wouldn't fire upon the others.

"Stay your aim!" I exclaimed, at the same time motioning for my companions to lower their weapons. "We are soldiers of the White Tree and mean you no harm!"

"That's exactly what the others said!" She cried. "Where's your device then, soldier??"

I slowly held out my sword pommel-first, displaying the White Tree clearly engraved into it. The woman didn't falter.

"You easily could've stolen it," she said. It seemed as if nothing would convince her.

"Please," I pleaded, gently setting my sword on a nearby table. "We need help. One of my men is mortally wounded and may soon die if we don't make an effort to save him."

Her expression softened almost imperceptibly, but she made no move to lower her bow. "If you speak the truth, tell your men to back out of the cottage slowly. Bring your wounded man to the window, that I might see him." 

Despite their apprehensive expressions, I nodded, indicating for them to carry out the order. A moment later they returned, rapping lightly on the shutters. I displayed my empty hands to the woman, and she finally lowered the bow, instead drawing a small knife as she moved to look out the window. 

She practically gasped upon seeing the condition Ohtar was in, and almost immediately rushed outside to help Aerel bring him in. 

"He's close to death," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Soldiers or not, I'll see what's left in my larder to aid him." 

I followed her to the larder, which was soon revealed to be practically empty. "I apologize. Outlaws came three weeks ago, and..." She trailed off. "I had to use most of my medicinal supplies on myself. There's not much left."

I now understood why she had been so wary of us. Clad in a mix of Haradrim armor and our own ragged uniforms, we must have looked like outlaws ourselves. 

"No need to apologize m'lady," I said with a slight bow. "War has left no home untouched. Are you still injured?"

"Nay," she replied quietly. "At least, not physically. Some scars will never heal, I'm afraid." At this she looked away, as if some things were better left unsaid. "But forgive my rudeness, I never asked for your name."

"I'm Captain Turin, son of Altirion. My soldiers and I were sent on a mission behind enemy lines. These are all that remain." I motioned to the others. Eradan gave a slight nod of acknowledgment but the others were focused on Ohtar, watching Aerel as she worked to stay the flow of blood. 

"I'm Miriel," the girl replied, morbid curiosity drawing her gaze to Aerel's work. 

"Tell me, Miriel," I began, trying to draw her attention away from the blood. "Why do you dwell alone, far from all others?" 

She looked down at her feet. "I wasn't alone. My husband Faranor dwelt here with me, but war called him away a month before the birth of our son. Several weeks later..." Her tone faltered. "A messenger arrived. He had been killed at Osgiliath, as had his brother and father."