Vail shrugged.
Tip laughed bitterly and, at Vail's raised eyebrow, said, "Is it often the case that much of life is spent running in great large circles?"
Vail smiled in empathy and said, "At times, Tipperton. At times."
They stood and peered westward a long moment more, and then mounted up and rode out into the open wold.
In late afternoon the trees bordering the Argon River came into view, and the Landover Road fell down a long and gentle slope toward the unseen flow ahead.
Vail slowed the horses and turned to Tipperton. "Be wary, my friend, and keep a sharp eye." As Tip set an arrow to string, Vail urged her horse onward, drawing the other three behind.
The sun was just sinking beyond the distant Grimwall as they neared the band of riverside trees, and Tip's heart leapt as a huge figure stepped out into the road… but then Tip calmed when Vail called out a greeting-"Is bred an la e!"-and the buccan saw that it was another of these tall Baeron men.
"It is at that!" he called, and Vail kicked the horses into a trot.
As they sat on the east bank of the Argon, nigh where the road crossed the ford, Bren gestured toward the Grim-walls and said in his deep rumble, "We fight to free Crestan: Baeron on this side, the Elves of Arden Vale opposite, the Spawn trapped in between. Yet the winning goes slowly: they are deeply entrenched and have hurled us back several times."
"I hear the Foul Folk tried to hold this ford too," said Tipperton.
Bren's hand dropped to the mace at his side. "They did at that, but we hammered them free. 'Twas a shame to pollute the waters with their dark blood, though not a shame to kill Wrg."
A grim look came into Tipperton's eye. "I pity them not."
Vail looked long at the buccan, her expression unfathomable, and Tipperton became uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny. Finally she turned to Bren. "Hast thou aught word I should bear to my Coron?"
The big man took a deep breath. "Just this: from the tidings you bring and from what I know, I deem we fight this war in too many places. Modru controls all the choke points: Crestan Pass, the Black Hole, Gunarring Gap, even the Straits of Kis-"
"I say," interrupted Tip, "where's this, um, Black Hole?"
" 'Tis Drimmen-deeve he speaks of, Tipperton."
"Oh."
"Drimmen-deeve to Elves," rumbled Bren, "and Kraggen-cor to the Dwarves, but to the Baeron and other men it is the Black Hole."
"I see," said the buccan. "But I interrupted."
Bren shrugged. "There's not that much to say. Just that those of us who can should come together and choose which of Modru's forces to crush, for he too is spread thin. And by fighting in one place at a time we could break through Crestan, or lift the siege on the Black Hole, or some such… allowing more and more of the allies of the High King to unite, and then when we've enough, we can go cast down Modru himself in Gron."
Vail nodded. " 'Tis a splendid strategy thou hast proposed, Bren, and when we leave on morrow morn I will indeed bear thy words unto my Coron."
Bren grunted in acknowledgement, and in that moment one of the Baeron called; stew and bread and tea were ready.
There was no moon in the night, yet Tipperton sat by a river with stars glimmering in its depths, and he watched the water flow by, ever there, ever new, ever the same, the buccan remembering… remembering… as tears spilled down and down.
Chapter 31
It was late afternoon when Vail and Tipperton returned to the host, and together they sought out Alor Eilor and reported in, and together they bore the news to Coron Ruar.
"Well and good," said Ruar. " 'Tis meet the Baeron command the ford. Would that the Crestan Pass were free as well. Yet as to the strategy offered by Bren: there is much to recommend it. E'en so, there is also this: were the Free Folk to gather all forces and march upon Gron, much would be left vulnerable, and the Foul Folk free to bring destruction unto those thus exposed. Still, could we move swiftly, mayhap we could cast Modru down from his iron tower ere he could combine his Hordes to stay our hand."
Ruar peered at the ground. "Yet, 'twould not be easy, for the iron tower is a formidable fortress and Modru a powerful Mage. And not only does he command Foul Folk, 'tis said in the season of cold he has winter at his beck. If true, we would need many a powerful Mage at hand to counter such a foe.
"Still, the plan has merit, and I will think on it."
Eilor cleared his throat. "But first, my Coron, we must break the siege at Mineholt North."
Ruar looked up. "Aye, we must at that."
Tip sought out Beau and took back the coin, and the rest of the day they spent wandering about the encampment, gaping up at the huge draft horses of the Baeron, and they helped a wagoner feed one of them, marveling over the amount of food it took.
"A goodly measure of the cargo we bear is for the horses," said the Baeron, slapping one of the large animals on the flank. "Else we'd be hauling the freight ourselves."
Beau looked up at the towering man and horse and over at one of the massive wains. Then he grinned and said, "Well, it's not as if a pony would do."
The big man laughed, but Tip turned to Beau. "Speaking of ponies, bucco, it's time we fed and watered ours again."
They strolled to where their own animals were penned, and as they poured a ration of oats into nosebags, Beau looked at the little steeds and said, "I wonder just how they feel, here among the Elves' big horses and the even bigger horses over there?"
Now it was Tip who grinned. "No different from us, I should think, Beau. No different from us whatsoever."
Later that eve, Tipperton strummed on his lute, playing it for the first time since hearing of… of the fall of Caer Lindor.
A deep melancholy ran under the tunes.
The next morning, a day early, five hundred Baeron mounted upon huge horses came riding into the clearing. Their chieftain was Gara, a redheaded man, short for a Baeran, standing just six feet three. Yet there was an air of command about him, and he seemed not at all diminished by his taller kith.
Once again Ruar called a council, and Beau and Tip watched from afar, Tipperton picking out songs on his lute. And the sun walked up through the sky and over as the council went on. And the buccan fed the ponies and led them to water, and then watched from afar again, Tip once more lightly strumming doleful tunes. Finally Vail came. "We leave on the morrow, Tipperton, thou and I on the fore left flank. As for thee, Beau, thou wilt ride among the healers' wains, or so Melor did say."
Beau sighed and looked at Tip. "It seems as if we've seen little of one another, especially these past few weeks, less and less as the days go by."
"Oh, Beau, it's not as if we are parted. I mean, even on the trail I'll see you in camp each night."
Vail shook her head. "Nay, Tipperton. Once we are underway, as scouts we'll oft be days on our own, searching, seeking, probing for foe. And we will rendezvous daily with a message rider and tell him what we have seen, and 'tis he who will bear word back unto Eilor and thence to the war council. -Oh, we will return at times, in haste when and if we find the enemy. Yet for the most, we will be long on the track and short within camp."
Tip looked at Beau and turned up his hands and shrugged, and Beau returned a faint grin.
Tip glanced at his friend and then took up his lute, and a lively tune sprang forth from the silver strings: it was "The Merry Man of Boskledee," Beau's favorite.