[Firefoot]

By the time Harold finally left the inn it was past sundown. He mounted his mare and headed off at a slow trot, not wanting the horse to injure a leg in the deepening darkness. The darkness fit his mood. Negotiating with the mercenaries had not gone nearly so well as he had hoped. They had demanded more money than he had hoped, though not expected. He had been forced to pay them some money in advance, with the promise of more once the job was done. He had made it quite clear that he expected them at the estates early the next morning. He had not told them exactly who they were to kill, either; he had simply told him that a small armed group was coming to plunder his estates and kill him. He had given no reasons. Harold suspected that this was part of the reason the pay had been so high. Mercenaries usually liked to know what they were getting into.

When he finally arrived home he handed the horse off to a stable hand and hurried up to the house. He would be grateful when the day was done. He was surprised and slightly irritated to find his sons waiting for him at the house. Arthur appeared ready to leave and Samuel, if still hesitant about going, looked resigned to the fact.

“Do you need something?” he asked gruffly.

“No, not exactly,” said Arthur, seemingly taken aback. “We were just wondering how everything went, and what’s going on.”

“We have our mercenaries,” growled Harold. “And a bloody high price they want for the job. They had better do it right, or Sandrina’s head won’t be the only one I want. They are to be here first thing in the morning, and we will be leaving soon after that.” Silently, he added the words if all goes well. He had been unable to shake the earlier feeling that something was amiss, though he could see no basis for it. Harold continued, “Each of us will be bringing an extra mount in order to make better time. Be at the stables packed and ready to go by mid-morning. I don’t take kindly to waiting.” Arthur nodded, unperturbed. Samuel responded more slowly, but his answer too was in the affirmative.

“We will see you then,” said Arthur. With that both of them left the house. Harold climbed upstairs to his own bed and fell into a restless sleep.

~*~*~*~

The next morning dawned clear, despite the previous night’s ominous clouds. Harold arose with a groan and threw on some clothes suitable for travelling. Some dry bread was all he felt like eating for breakfast, and he bundled the rest of the food that would not spoil quickly into a bag to take along. He walked outside, expecting to see the mercenaries either waiting for him or riding up the road soon. Impatience rose within him as the minutes stretched on and they did not come. He had seen neither Sam nor Arthur yet, which also concerned and frustrated him. Does nobody but me understand how important this is...?

Harold was about to go round up his sons when he saw that a lone man was staggering up the road. He seemed to be exhausted. At that moment he picked up his head to look around. Harold could hear the relief in his voice when he called out, or tried to at any rate.

“Harold... thank Eru... I’ve gotten here... before... Sandrina...” With difficulty, the man was making his way up the slope towards Harold, and then Harold recognized him. It was Cerdic, the manager of the trading the estate did. He had been away to find out how much money people in other parts of Rohan were getting for their goods.

“Come up to the house, Cerdic, and tell me what you know, for it is clear you know something. You can have water and a place to sit as well,” said Harold. Cerdic nodded gratefully and followed him up to the house, still gasping for breath.

Once Cerdic had gotten his breath back up at the house, he began to speak. “I take it by the packed up state of the house you have received word of Sandrina?” Harold nodded, saying, “We had intended to leave this morning, as soon as the hired mercenaries arrived, but I have waited so long that we may well leave before they get here.” Cerdic continued, “I was in the same town as they were last night. Sandrina is gathering people to herself to come here and take the estate she claims as rightfully hers. She had intended to leave early this morning, and I fear they will be here soon. You see, I rode off as soon as I heard an adequate amount of their plans. I rode with speed through the night, but sometime around midnight my horse went lame and I was forced to leave him behind. I pressed on as hard as I could on foot, but I believe that it was slow enough that Sandrina will have made up a great deal of ground on me. If you want to leave before they get here, you must go soon.”

“Thank you, Cerdic,” said Harold. “Your news is appreciated, though it tells me little more than how little time I have. I had bargained on a couple days, at least. You may go now; you will want to get some rest, I imagine. If they should ask you, you know absolutely nothing about what is happening here. Say we left this morning without a word.” Cerdic nodded, and left. Harold sighed, rubbing his temples. Cerdic was one of the few people he felt he could trust. They had grown up together, as his parents had worked for Harold’s. He had no time to waste, now. He hurried outside to each of his sons’ houses.

“Hurry up, you lazy slowpoke! We are leaving in ten minutes! Get your brother too!” he yelled at Arthur’s door. “I’ll have your horses ready.”

With that Harold departed to the stables, retrieving each of the six horses he had selected last night. Three of them he saddled up to be ridden, saddlebags over their hindquarters. The other three wore only halters. They would switch off so that there were always fresh horses to ride. Within a few minutes Arthur and Samuel appeared, each dressed like himself for travelling on horseback. Harold almost expected Samuel to give one last argument, but he didn’t, much to Harold’s relief. He could not afford the time. They mounted up.

“We ride!” said Harold, and they were off, heeling their horses into a ground-eating canter.