Part 14

As the two men led her and Belecthor across the blue yard towards the blue-stained buildings, Eowyn reached out to Legolas and, through their mental bond, tried let him know that things were going according to his plan.

The twins stopped at one of the wooden sheds, and the first opened the door and courteously stepped aside to let Eowyn enter, then—obviously feeling the need to re-assert himself—he shoved Belecthor in after her.

To Eowyn’s surprise, the shed appeared to be some sort of counting house. Shelves of ledgers lined its walls, several stout wooden chests, of the kind used for storing coin, stood in a corner, and an ancient desk, carved and leather-topped—though the leather showed distinct traces of blue—filled the remainder of its small space.

And behind the desk sat ‘Ma’, scrutinising her accounts.

When Eowyn entered, she leaned back from her work, and looked her up and down. “Well, you’re a pretty one and no mistake,” she said, “even if you are a bit skinny. What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

She was a large woman, and well-upholstered, her blue eyes merry in her round face and, although her clothes were simple, her thick, blue-white hair had been teased and tortured into an elaborate style. Eowyn could see that she had once been a striking beauty.

Ma discreetly signalled to her sons that they should leave.

They remained oblivious.

She jerked her head towards the door.

They did not notice.

“Go,” she cried, waving them away. “They’re good boys,” she said to Eowyn, as the door closed behind them, “but a bit,”—she mouthed the final word—“slow.”

Eowyn found herself completely wrong-footed. “Um,” she said, “I believe you have Arador, son of the Reeve of Newhome.”

“Yes,” said the woman, brightly. “Nice boy.”

“Well,” said Eowyn, trying to get things back on track, “his father is coming for him, and bringing the Watch. He will be here in a matter of minutes.”

The woman leaned right back in her chair, folded her arms across her massive bosom, and looked up at Eowyn, shrewdly.

“He means to use force,” Eowyn explained.

“I’m sure he does.” Ma smiled. “Him and me have some old scores to settle. But my boys love a good scrap.”

“But the Reeve’s soldiers,” Eowyn insisted, “are experienced fighting men—they will take no prisoners.”

Ma did not respond.

“I can prevent the attack,” said Eowyn, feeling like a little girl pestering her mother.

“And how would you do that, sweetheart?”

“By taking Arador to his father.” Eowyn leaned forward, hands on the desk. “The Reeve does not control this part of the forest, Mistress—I do. He cannot make you stop doing... Whatever it is that you are doing, but he can storm this place and kill you and your sons.”