House of the Wolfings: The William Morris Book that Inspired J. R. R. Tolkiena *s The Lord of the Rings (32 page)

E’en so is the tale now fashioned, that many
a time and oft

Shall be told on the acre’s edges, when the
summer eve is soft;

Shall be hearkened round the hall-blaze when
the mid-winter night

The kindreds’ mirth besetteth, and
quickeneth man’s delight,

And we that have lived in the story shall be
born again and again

As men feast on the bread of our earning,
and praise the grief-born grain.

As she made an end of singing, those about
her understood her words, that she was foretelling victory, and the
peace of the Mark, and for joy they raised a shrill cry; and the
warriors who were nighest to her took it up, and it spread through
the whole host round about the garth, and went up into the breath
of the summer morning and went down the wind along the meadow of
the Wolfings, so that they of the Wain-burg, who were now drawing
somewhat near to Wolfstead heard it and were glad.

But the Romans when they heard it knew that
the heart of the battle was reached, and they cast back that shout
wrathfully and fiercely, and made toward the foe.

Therewithal those mighty men fell on each
other in the narrow passes of the garth; for fear was dead and
buried in that Battle of the Morning.

On the North gate Hiarandi of the Elkings
was the point of the Markmen’s wedge, and first clave the Roman
press. In the Eastern gate it was Valtyr, Otter’s brother’s son, a
young man and most mighty. In the South gate it was Geirbald of the
Shieldings, the Messenger.

In the west gate Thiodolf the War-duke gave
one mighty cry like the roar of an angry lion, and cleared a space
before him for the wielding of Ivar’s blade; for at that moment he
had looked up to the Roof of the Kindred and had beheld a little
stream of smoke curling blue out of a window thereof, and he knew
what had betided, and how short was the time before them. But his
wrathful cry was taken up by some who had beheld that same sight,
and by others who saw nought but the Roman press, and terribly it
rang over the swaying struggling crowd.

Then fell the first rank of the Romans
before those stark men and mighty warriors; and they fell even
where they stood, for on neither side could any give back but for a
little space, so close the press was, and the men so eager to
smite. Neither did any crave peace if he were hurt or disarmed; for
to the Goths it was but a little thing to fall in hot blood in that
hour of love of the kindred, and longing for the days to be. And
for the Romans, they had had no mercy, and now looked for none: and
they remembered their dealings with the Goths, and saw before them,
as it were, once more, yea, as in a picture, their slayings and
quellings, and lashings, and cold mockings which they had dealt out
to the conquered foemen without mercy, and now they longed sore for
the quiet of the dark, when their hard lives should be over, and
all these deeds forgotten, and they and their bitter foes should be
at rest for ever.

Most valiantly they fought; but the fury of
their despair could not deal with the fearless hope of the Goths,
and as rank after rank of them took the place of those who were
hewn down by Thiodolf and the Kindred, they fell in their turn, and
slowly the Goths cleared a space within the gates, and then began
to spread along the wall within, and grew thicker and thicker. Nor
did they fight only at the gates; but made them bridges of those
tree-trunks, and fell to swarming over the rampart, till they had
cleared it of the bowmen and slingers, and then they leaped down
and fell upon the flanks of the Romans; and the host of the dead
grew, and the host of the living lessened.

Moreover the stay-at-homes round about the
Speech-Hill, and that band of the warriors of Up-mark who were with
them, beheld the Great Roof and saw the smoke come gushing out of
the windows, and at last saw the red flames creep out amidst it and
waver round the window jambs like little banners of scarlet cloth.
Then they could no longer refrain themselves, but ran down from the
Speech-Hill and the slope about it with great and fierce cries, and
clomb the wall where it was unmanned, helping each other with hand
and back, both stark warriors, and old men and lads and women: and
thus they gat them into the garth and fell upon the lessening band
of the Romans, who now began to give way hither and thither about
the garth, as they best might.

Thus it befell at the West-gate, but at the
other gates it was no worser, for there was no diversity of valour
between the Houses; nay, whereas the more part and the best part of
the Romans faced the onset of Thiodolf, which seemed to them the
main onset, they were somewhat easier to deal with elsewhere than
at the West gate; and at the East gate was the place first won, so
that Valtyr and his folk were the first to clear a space within the
gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for can this that and the other
sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?) they drew the death-ring
around the Romans that were before them, and slew them all to the
last man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward of them of the
North gate, who still stood before Hiarandi’s onset. There again
was no long tale to tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning the
gate, and the wall was cleared of the Roman shot-fighters, and the
Markmen were standing on the top thereof, and casting down on the
Romans spears and baulks of wood and whatsoever would fly. There
again were the Romans all slain or put out of the fight, and the
two bands of the kindred joined together, and with what voices the
battle-rage had left them cried out for joy and fared on together
to help to bind the sheaves of war which Thiodolf’s sickle had
reaped. And now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they
still fought in knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed
and thrust without more thought or will than the stone has when it
leaps adown the hill-side after it has first been set agoing.

But now the garth was fairly won and
Thiodolf saw that there was no hope for the Romans drawing together
again; so while the kindreds were busied in hewing down those knots
of desperate men, he gathered to him some of the wisest of his
warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf and Grani the Grey, the deft
wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously hurt by a spear and
was out of the battle), and drave a way through the confused
turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made straight
for the Man’s-door of the Hall. Soon he was close thereto, having
hewn away all fleers that hindered him, and the doorway was before
him. But on the threshold, the fire and flames of the kindled hall
behind him, stood the Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned armour and
surcoat of sea-born purple; the man was cool and calm and proud,
and a mocking smile was on his face: and he bore his bright blade
unbloodied in his hand.

Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their
eyes met; it had gone hard with the War-duke, and those eyes
glittered in his pale face, and his teeth were close set together;
though he had fought wisely, and for life, as he who is most
valiant ever will do, till he is driven to bay like the lone
wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. His helm
and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought
coat, but the work of Ivar’s hand: the blood was running down from
his left arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar’s
sword in the medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman
short-sword, and his feet stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the
Man’s-door.

He looked into the scornful eyes of the
Roman lord for a little minute and then laughed aloud, and
therewithal, leaping on him with one spring, turned sideways, and
dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed left hand,
just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the Captain
staggered forward on to the next man following, which was
Wolfkettle the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword
and shoved him aside as they all strode into the hall together.
Howbeit no sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for
Thiodolf’s side bore it into the Hall of the Wolfings.

Most wrathful were those men, and went
hastily, for their Roof was full of smoke, and the flames flickered
about the pillars and the wall here and there, and crept up to the
windows aloft; yet was it not wholly or fiercely burning; for the
Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and hasty in their work.
Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the others off at a run
towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who went slowly and
painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound for the
burning, and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick, and
is weak, up on to the dais, and said:

“Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the
kindreds have vanquished the foemen, and the end of strife is
come.”

His voice sounded strange and sweet to them
amidst the turmoil of the fight without; he laid down his sword on
the table, and drew a little sharp knife from his girdle and cut
their bonds one by one and loosed them with his blood-stained
hands; and each one as he loosed him he kissed and said to him,
“Brother, go help those who are quenching the fire; this is the
bidding of the War-duke.”

But as he loosed one after other he was
longer and longer about it, and his words were slower. At last he
came to the man who was bound in his own high-seat close under the
place of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun, and he was the only one
left bound; that man was of the Wormings and was named Elfric; he
loosed him and was long about it; and when he was done he smiled on
him and kissed him, and said to him:

“Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of
the fire, and leave to me this my chair, for I am weary: and if
thou wilt, thou mayst bring me of that water to drink, for this
morning men have forgotten the mead of the reapers!”

Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his
chair, and leaned back his head; but Elfric looked at him for a
moment as one scared, and then ran his ways down the hall, which
now was growing noisy with the hurry and bustle of the quenchers of
the fire, to whom had divers others joined themselves.

There then from a bucket which was still for
a moment he filled a wooden bowl, which he caught up from the base
of one of the hall-pillars, and hastened up the Hall again; and
there was no man nigh the dais, and Thiodolf yet sat in his chair,
and the hall was dim with the rolling smoke, and Elfric saw not
well what the War-duke was doing. So he hastened on, and when he
was close to Thiodolf he trod in something wet, and his heart sank
for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped therewith and as he
put out his hand to save himself the more part of the water was
spilled, and mingled with the blood. But he went up to Thiodolf and
said to him, “Drink, War-duke! here hath come a mouthful of
water.”

But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and
Elfric touched him, and he moved none the more.

Then Elfric’s heart failed him and he laid
his hand on the War-duke’s hand, and looked closely into his face;
and the hand was cold and the face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his
hand on his side, and he felt the short-sword of the Roman leader
thrust deep therein, besides his many other hurts.

So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast
the bowl to the earth, and lifted up his hands and wailed out
aloud, like a woman who hath come suddenly on her dead child, and
cried out in a great voice:

“Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the
War-duke of the Markmen is dead! O ye people, Hearken! Thiodolf the
Mighty, the Wolfing is dead!”

And he was a young man, and weak with the
binding and the waiting for death, and he bowed himself adown and
crouched on the ground and wept aloud.

But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight
outside the Man’s-door was darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the
threshold in her ancient gold-embroidered raiment, holding in her
hand her namesake the wondrous Lamp; and the spears and the
war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her; but the men tarried on the
threshold till she turned about and beckoned to them, and then they
poured in through the Man’s-door, their war-gear rent and they all
befouled and disarrayed with the battle, but with proud and happy
faces: as they entered she waved her hand to them to bid them go
join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their ways.

But she went with unfaltering steps up to
the dais, and the place where the chain of the Lamp hung down from
amidst the smoke-cloud wavering a little in the gusts of the hall.
Straightway she made the Lamp fast to its chain, and dealt with its
pulleys with a deft hand often practised therein, and then let it
run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof till it gleamed in its due
place once more, a token of the salvation of the Wolfings and the
welfare of all the kindreds.

Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm
and solemn face, though it was very pale and looked as if she would
not smile again. Elfric had risen up and was standing by the board
speechless and the passion of sobs still struggling in his bosom.
She put him aside gently, and went up to Thiodolf and stood above
him, and looked down on his face a while: then she put forth her
hand and closed his eyes, and stooped down and kissed his face.
Then she stood up again and faced the Hall and looked and saw that
many were streaming in, and that though the smoke was still eddying
overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched within; and without the
sound of battle had sunk and died away. For indeed the Markmen had
ended their day’s work before noontide that day, and the more part
of the Romans were slain, and to the rest they had given peace till
the Folk-mote should give Doom concerning them; for pity of these
valiant men was growing in the hearts of the valiant men who had
vanquished them, now that they feared them no more.