"Well, I'm not the one with the two best-looking girls panting after him," the big man said, grinning. "Seriously, I know you're the one who looks like a prince, and I make people think of fee fi fo fum and grinding the bones of an Englishman. Which is a bit hard, innit, seeing as I am an Englishman?"
"Luckily, women aren't as fixated on looks as we males," Alleyne pointed out.
Hordle's grin got wider. "No, but looking good doesn't hurt much, does it? Still, I reckon my charm and wit will win out in the end."
They both laughed; Hordle's voice was like a monstrous frog croaking. "That was quite a display you put on with little Astrid."
"Christ! But it's not that which makes me hesitate."
"Her relatives?"
"No: no. I like her brother-in-law and most of the others seem good sorts at heart, though Signe Havel is just a trifle too carnivorous for my taste; and that man Hutton is a magician with horses. Nor am I so noble and pure as to spurn the thought of being related to the local royalty. And she's good company, we've got a good many common interests, she's clever, and a stunner: well, you've got eyes, don't you, man?"
"She's not pretty, sir. Eilir is pretty, pretty as a man could want. Astrid is like something you'd see in a painting, the type you're not allowed to get close to because your breath might pollute it."
He ducked and came up blowing and rubbing at his thatch of dark red-brown hair. "Let me guess. It's the fact that she's bloody barking mad that's giving you the collywobbles?"
Alleyne made a gesture, and tried to keep the defensive tone out of his voice: "She's not mad. She couldn't have put this Ranger thing together if she was mad. She doesn't actually think she's living in the Third Age of Middle Earth, or that she's a warrior elf-maid fighting the Dark Lord, though when you think of what that man Arminger is like: But she is: obsessed. The problem is that I share her obsession: in a very, very much less intense fashion. And seeing how it might flower into full-blown form is rather frightening." He sighed. "I meet a beautiful American heiress, I like her, she likes me : and then she turns out to be a fundamentalist with a more literal interpretation of scripture than I feel comfortable with. Only our bible was written by an Oxford don about sixty years ago."
Hordle thought for a moment, his heavy brows knotted in thought. Alleyne waited; one of the advantages Little John Hordle had in life was the way people assumed his massive size and strength meant he was stupid. It wasn't so. "Well, I wouldn't be quite so frightened as all that, if I were you. I would if this were the old world, but it isn't."
Alleyne's fair eyebrows went up further. "What difference does that make?"
"Look at it this way, Mr. Loring. If this were the time before the Change, what use would it be to be obsessed with horses, and swords, and bows, and living in the woods like a poncing elf and fighting bandits and man-eating beasts and evil kings? As opposed to here and now, where she can actually do all those things- has to do most of them, in fact."
Alleyne opened his mouth, then closed it again; it was his turn to frown. "You know, Sergeant, that is a very acute observation. If it's madness, it's a very practical form of insanity. Now that I think of it, even if she's living a fantasy she's gone about it in a very practical way."
Hordle shrugged. "Think nothing of it. Sergeants are supposed to figure things out and let officers take the credit."
"Of course, the fact that if I were to make a play for Astrid, her friend might have time to think about someone else has no bearing on your advice."
Hordle rolled his eyes upward and put his hands together in an attitude of prayer: "Of course not, Mr. Loring! I deny everything! How could you think such a thing?" He clutched at his chest. "I'm wounded, wounded, I tell you!"
Alleyne laughed. "We'll see what develops. What do you think of settling here? Father's giving it serious consideration."
"And I know why," Hordle said with a wink. At Alleyne's blank look he chuckled and went on: "Seriously, it's pretty country, right enough, nice climate-a lot like Hampshire, only better-there's plenty of land for the asking, and the hunting's good. I could get myself a bit of a farm, or even a farm and a pub. Incidentally, they're not bad, themselves, this Ranger lot, even the girls. I thought they were a bit, mmmm: informal-like, but they know what they're doing and they don't waste time talking when it's important."
"Not surprising, when you consider that Sam had a say in training them early on. Not to mention Mr. Havel. And they've had real work to do here, with bandits and raiders and the prospects of a pukka war hanging over them. More than we did in England, when we weren't sent abroad. Being in the regulars back home was too much like being a policeman at times for my taste, this last little while."
"Right. Never did want to be a copper. Still, at first I thought:
"
Alleyne grinned at him. "Thought they were too given to playing dress-up here, like me, eh?"
Hordle shrugged his massive shoulders. "I deny everything!"
That evening was pleasantly cool, enough for the fire they lit in the big fireplace to be welcome for more than the leaping flames. Dinner was a whole young pig just past weaning, butterflied and grilled with a hot sauce, potatoes roasted in the ashes, and a heaping salad of wild greens. The interior of the lodge was big enough for the full score of Rangers; everyone lay around on cushions after the meal, facing the fire and sipping at wine or cider, singing and talking as the flames illuminated the corners of the room with flickering ruddy light. The warmth of the flames brought out the spicy scent of the heavy myrtlewood furniture. A chorus ended:
"I watch the deer and geese go by, fox-foot in the snow;
Climb the peak of Washington mountain, looking to the valley below-"
"Hey, people," Astrid said when the tune died down. "Business for a minute. Look, we've been using this place for years, but only on and off. What the Dunedain need is a base. Someplace we can train new members, store our goods, an armory, have a few people always on hand. I've talked to Lord Bear about it: "
And I've spoken to Lady Juniper, Eilir added. She thinks it's a good idea.
"We could claim this whole area-the old state park, and say another ten thousand acres around it, and manage the woods. Nobody's using it much and we did run those bandits out of here; Mark got killed doing it. And it's such a good hideout more would be sure to come here if we didn't patrol."
The Rangers looked at each other. The redhead- Kevin, Alleyne thought. The one with the medical training -raised a hand. "How would we live?" he said.
Partly by hunting, Eilir said. That's good here even in winter-animals come down from the high country. We could swap the surplus for things, and eventually sell some timber, and things like nuts. And we wouldn't be here all the time, not all of us. Plus we could contract for special jobs. We already get paid for tracking down man-eaters, and we could do more guarding caravans south past Eugene, or out east over-mountain. We already get top rate for road-guard work, a lot better than the scruffy thugs who usually get hired. They'd know we wouldn't rob them.
"And since what we do here in the Valley helps everyone, I think we can get a contribution from the Mackenzies and the Bearkillers both," Astrid said. "Maybe from Cor-vallis and Mt. Angel, too. You know, flour and cloth and spuds, horses, some cash, too, that's only fair. There's enough meadow near here for our horses, and we could have a few milch cows and a garden, if there were someone here to keep an eye on things. Shall we try it?"