(Many thanks to Alainn for playing the (invisible) Euhric and for making such a problematic character in the first place! Dialogue taken directly from RP logs, and much of the accompanying description, as well.)
It was surprisingly easy to find out where Alainn and her trailing Rohirrim had disappeared to – by all accounts, they had not exactly been subtle about it. Mathdor was not quite rude or reckless enough to go rushing into something that was none of his business, but he was determined to have a little talk with Euhric nevertheless. A small voice in the back of his head informed him rather bluntly that what he was doing was not only interfering, but potentially hurtful – which was even worse, but he ignored it. No matter what Alainn said, he didn’t trust the Rohirrim. Desertion and its subsequent fear might be the only motive, but somehow, he doubted that, and he was set on finding out the truth.
With this in mind, he found a large boulder – one of many scattered throughout Avardin and indeed throughout Dunland – and settled himself in its deep shadow. The spot was not far from where the villagers said they had last seen the strange couple, and they also said the hut was generally unoccupied, kept for guests or other purposes.
He didn’t expect that he would have to wait long, and in that, at least, he was right. Darkness had just settled fully over the village when Euhric emerged, stretching and adjusting his clothes. He stood there in the entrance for a good while before walking slowly up the hill, toward the tall palisade ring whose function Mathdor preferred not to know. Euhric paced along the wall for a moment before dropping easily onto a bed of thick grass.
Mathdor waited, planning his first move carefully. After a long moment, he slipped deeper into the shadow of the rock and called over, sharply, forming his lips into the Rohirric language. “You there – soldier!”
To his great annoyance, Euhric did not seem startled, or even much interested at all. He shifted ever so slightly, but otherwise made no move, not even opening his eyes at the voice meant to startle him into wakefulness again.
“If it is me you are calling for,” he replied, his voice a low, lazy drawl, “you may use my name. Euhric.”
“It’s hard to use a man’s name when he’s not been introduced.”
There was an annoyed grunt, and the Rohirrim sat up. “I have just spent the past hour riding a rather untrained filly. If you insist on speaking to me, say what you have to say. I wish to sleep.”
Rising, Mathdor strode carefully into view, until he was only a few paces away. He found himself eyeing the man with barely-concealed contempt. “It’s hardly my fault,” he said shortly. “I don’t arrange your schedule.”
Euhric yawned loudly and stretched his arms high above his head. His bare arms and chest, already tanned, looked even darker in the shadow of the palisade. “You might not want to be staring at me in that way,” he remarked, pulling himself up straighter against the wall, and on his feet.
It was a warning Mathdor decided to pay no attention to. “You’re unusual enough in these parts to merit staring, ” he responded pointedly, one eyebrow raised. “Terribly sorry if it bothers you.” He found himself ready and willing to kick the man, but restrained himself. For now, hostility was not likely the best policy.
The Rohirrim swore easily, seemingly more in impatience than anger. “Just say what you got to say.”
“Testy tonight, aren’t we?” Mathdor inquired mildly, in that tone he knew from experience was bound to annoy. He had slipped back to Westron – it was harder than he thought to recall some of the subtleties of the Rohirric tongue. He folded his arms over his chest, adding, “Though I suppose being surrounded by your traditional enemies might have that effect.”
“You’ll have to excuse this flaw in my character,” Euhric said, with another annoyed grunt, “but I don’t take to folks approaching me with that sort of sneer while I’m trying to rest off a mediocre lay.”
Mathdor felt something inside him twist and tighten. He let out his breath in a low, sharp hiss. “Then why don’t you find someone else to have your pleasure with?” he suggested, very quietly.
Euhric’s lips curled at the edges into a slight grin, and when he spoke, his words were thick with a playful sort of mockery. “Oh… I’m a man of Rohan,” he said, as though that were reason in and of itself. “Even with all my faults, that was bred into me. Any filly can be trained to be a proper ride. You just need a strong enough crop and the will to draw blood.”
“A poor excuse for a man of Rohan,” Mathdor corrected contemptuously, feeling the areas around his eyes and mouth tighten. “I know your people, and you’d not be honoured there. What do you want with her?” The last phrase was sharp and sudden, and even his own voice sounded strangely harsh to him.
Still smirking slightly, Euhric held his arms wide. “I am a poor excuse for a man of anyplace. But do not misunderstand my flaws for a weakness in body.” He let his arms falls again, and lowered his voice, speaking slowly. “Why don’t you ask the filly? She – not I – initiated that little ride through the furs and hide. What man would say no, to a woman with ample curves and jiggling breasts?”
The temptation to kick him – hard – was becoming very difficult to resist. Mathdor sought a track of conversation that was less likely to get him into trouble.
“You were supposed to be traveling north,” he said grimly. “And yet you’ve followed us here. Last I looked, this wasn’t north.”
The Rohirrim’s smirk grew wider. “The filly has offered to let me follow behind, until your brave Company makes it north again out of Dunland.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself about it.
The explanation itself was startling. Mathdor’s eyes narrowed, but he doubted he had looked surprised for more than a moment. “You would follow us south,” he began slowly, “risk danger from the Dunlendings and from your own people, trail behind us for weeks, just so you could come north again?” There was no keeping the skepticism out of his voice.
Stepping forward, Euhric nodded. “How else would I get through these lands? I got lucky, to escape this far without being run through. I go north alone – I die. I try to stay in Galtrev – someone will tire of having a Rohirrim in their village, and I die. But,” he went on, “if I stick close to your asses, let the folk of Dunland believe I’m allied with you by keeping close to that soft toy in the hut, I can eventually come out clean on the other side.” He flashed a lazy grin at Mathdor. “Way I see it, I got no fears save you lot falling in battle. And if that happens, I’m no worse than I was a few days back.”
Mathdor eyed the man with steadily increasing dislike. “I hardly believe you’re that unresourceful,” he said sharply. “And what happens if we turn you over?”
“You won’t,” Euhric whispered in his slow drawl, and Mathdor thought he detected a gleam of amusement in the other man’s eyes. “You’ll keep me secret, just like she will.”
“Right,” Mathdor said flatly. “Because I trust you just as much as she does.”
A laugh, and Euhric stepped forward again. “You will, because you are watching that wee thing. How will she feel, when a man whose company she enjoys is betrayed by someone she trusts and calls friend? You think that sort of hurt heals?”
Bastard, Mathdor thought, drawing in his breath sharply. “That would be my problem, not yours. She’s been hurt enough already, and she doesn’t need you manipulating her as well.” He had to force himself to bite the words off, terse and cold.
“We are at an impasse, then. Whatever will you do?”
Euhric was holding his arms wide again, still with that smug look playing about his lips. Mathdor stared back at him through eyes narrowed in dislike. “Looks like that will be for you to find out, won’t it?” he replied steadily, wondering what he was getting himself into even as he said it. “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out.”
The Rohirrim eyed him coolly for a moment, then laughed and returned to his bedding. “I wonder… would you be the sort to see a man killed, simply because you don’t like his way? I am no killer. No rapist. No thief. I am a man seeking a way north, and sex with an unfamiliar woman.”
Clenching his jaw, Mathdor pushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “You’ve gotten one,” he gritted out. “Now deal with the other and leave the rest of us alone.”
“I want nothing of you or yours, save a little time in your shadow.” Euhric was laying down again, his forearm over his eyes. “As for the filly…” A wry smirk appeared around his mouth. “Next time she comes to me, and she will, I will explore her body in the most unspoken of ways.”
Mathdor had to bite back an immediate retort to that, though he had no idea what he would have said. He took a slow breath and let it out again, before replying coldly, “Just keep in mind that my scruples aren’t hers. I won’t hesitate to do what I need to, so personally, I wouldn’t get too complacent.” The conversation had gotten almost nowhere; at least he would have the satisfaction of keeping the damn Rohirrim on edge for a while.
He turned away, with Euhric’s laugh echoing behind him. He waited until he was out of hearing range before letting out a soft but furious stream of curses – for the man was right. Unless he wanted to risk a severe misunderstanding with Alainn, there was little he could do.
It rankled, though. If he had learned nothing else, it was that Alainn was terribly worldly in some ways and fearfully naïve in others. He couldn’t understand why she was clinging to this man, this deserter who had shown nothing good and was clearly using her for his own purposes. Mathdor worried what Alainn might be like if this continued, and if it did, whether or not he would have the nerve to step in.
She had been right, when she had reminded him of her trust, and what he owed her for that. Mathdor was not at all sure if was prepared to relinquish that trust.