All day long one standing on the Speech-hill of the Wolfings might have
seen men in their war-array streaming along the side of Mirkwood-water,
on both sides thereof; and the last comers from the Nether-mark came
hastening all they might; for they would not be late at the
trysting-place. But these were of a kindred called the Laxings, who bore
a salmon on their banner; and they were somewhat few in number, for they
had but of late years become a House of the Markmen. Their banner-wain
was drawn by white horses, fleet and strong, and they were no great band,
for they had but few thralls with them, and all, free men and thralls,
were a-horseback; so they rode by hastily with their banner-wain, their
few munition-wains following as they might.
Now tells the tale of the men-at-arms of the Wolfings and the Beamings,
that soon they fell in with the Elking host, which was journeying but
leisurely, so that the Wolfings might catch up with them: they were a
very great kindred, the most numerous of all Mid-mark, and at this time
they had affinity with the Wolfings. But old men of the House remembered
how they had heard their grandsires and very old men tell that there had
been a time when the Elking House had been established by men from out of
the Wolfing kindred, and how they had wandered away from the Mark in the
days when it had been first settled, and had abided aloof for many
generations of men; and so at last had come back again to the Mark, and
had taken up their habitation at a place in Mid-mark where was dwelling
but a remnant of a House called the Thyrings, who had once been exceeding
mighty, but had by that time almost utterly perished in a great sickness
which befel in those days. So then these two Houses, the wanderers come
back and the remnant left by the sickness of the Gods, made one House
together, and increased and throve after their coming together, and
wedded with the Wolfings, and became a very great House.
Gallant and glorious was their array now, as they marched along with
their banner of the Elk, which was drawn by the very beasts themselves
tamed to draught to that end through many generations; they were fatter
and sleeker than their wild-wood brethren, but not so mighty.
So were the men of the three kindreds somewhat mingled together on the
way. The Wolfings were the tallest and the biggest made; but of those
dark-haired men aforesaid, were there fewest amongst the Beamings, and
most among the Elkings, as though they had drawn to them more men of
alien blood during their wanderings aforesaid. So they talked together
and made each other good cheer, as is the wont of companions in arms on
the eve of battle; and the talk ran, as may be deemed, on that journey
and what was likely to come of it: and spake an Elking warrior to a
Wolfing by whom he rode:
"O Wolfkettle, hath the Hall-Sun had any foresight of the day of battle?"
"Nay," said the other, "when she lighted the farewell candle, she bade us
come back again, and spoke of the day of our return; but that methinks,
as thou and I would talk of it, thinking what would be likely to befal.
Since we are a great host of valiant men, and these Welshmen {2} most
valiant, and as the rumour runneth bigger-bodied men than the Hun-folk,
and so well ordered as never folk have been. So then if we overthrow
them we shall come back again; and if they overthrow us, the remnant of
us shall fall back before them till we come to our habitations; for it is
not to be looked for that they will fall in upon our rear and prevent us,
since we have the thicket of the wild-wood on our flanks."
"Sooth is that," said the Elking; "and as to the mightiness of this folk
and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from the songs which our House
yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide about in the Mark; for this is
the same folk of which a many of them tell, making up that story-lay
which is called the South-Welsh Lay; which telleth how we have met this
folk in times past when we were in fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of
like customs to ourselves: for we of the Elkings were then but a feeble
folk. So we marched with this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the
cities, and whiles we overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last
in a great battle were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red
blood rose over the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with
the work of the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the
swathes are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and
there they stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not
whether they were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been."
Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side of the
Elking, reached out over his horse's neck and said:
"Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning how ye
and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the South, and
dwelt there long."
"Yea," said the Elking, "Hearken how it is told in the South-Welsh Lay:
"'Have ye not heard
Of the ways of Weird?
How the folk fared forth
Far away from the North?
And as light as one wendeth
Whereas the wood endeth,
When of nought is our need,
And none telleth our deed,
So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan
The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man.
All lonely the street there, and void was the way
And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay
Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high,
All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.'
"Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship, but such
as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both man and
woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the Kymry, and
left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay:
"'Glistening of gold
Did men's eyen behold;
Shook the pale sword
O'er the unspoken word,
No man drew nigh us
With weapon to try us,
For the Welsh-wrought shield
Lay low on the field.
By man's hand unbuilded all seemed there to be,
The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea:
Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall,
But _they_ lived and _they_ said us the song of the hall;
The dear hall left to perish by men of the land,
For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.'
"See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the men, who fled
from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with in the days gone
by?"
Said the Wolfing man:
"And as it was once, so shall it be again. Maybe we shall go far on this
journey, and see at least one of the garths of the Southlands, even those
which they call cities. For I have heard it said that they have more
cities than one only, and that so great are their kindreds, that each
liveth in a garth full of mighty houses, with a wall of stone and lime
around it; and that in every one of these garths lieth wealth untold
heaped up. And wherefore should not all this fall to the Markmen and
their valiancy?"
Said the Elking:
"As to their many cities and the wealth of them, that is sooth; but as to
each city being the habitation of each kindred, it is otherwise: for
rather it may be said of them that they have forgotten kindred, and have
none, nor do they heed whom they wed, and great is the confusion amongst
them. And mighty men among them ordain where they shall dwell, and what
shall be their meat, and how long they shall labour after they are weary,
and in all wise what manner of life shall be amongst them; and though
they be called free men who suffer this, yet may no house or kindred
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.