Nag Kath

by Gelansor

This is a sequel to The Lord of the Rings following a released prisoner at the beginning of the Fourth Age. He has to adapt to changes in his world and in himself as Middle-earth copes with life after the dark lords. All chapters have been loaded as of 2/9/2020. Reviews welcome. Thanks for looking, sh

18. Chapter 18 Fellowship

Chapter 18

Fellowship

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This section of the book is supported by the maps; Middle-earth Large, and Arnor along with the maps of the first chapters. Visit im gur period com /gallery/jHPIDU8

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Nag Kath traveled light. He was fully armed with his sword and bow but carried few clothes, some gold, Lembas and rain-gear. A new art tube replaced the one from Quastille. He was never armored. That would not seem like a good idea in a rain of arrows, but he did not need it in hand-to-hand fighting.

On the appointed day he waited at the switchback on the fourth until the royal train arrived. Lord Aragorn's escort was smaller than his first visit as King. There were two dozen riders accompanying him from the seventh and they would be met by a dozen more on the second plus animals carrying tents, provisions and other royal essentials. Not all were soldiers. Vundar of the Purse was along and Nag Kath knew him well. There were others skilled in lore or diplomacy. A scribe with experience in treaties was in the saddle along with cooks, an armorer and the King's travel handman. Nag Kath fell in with the main body after letting the vans pass.

King Aragorn moved fast. This was a chance for younger members of the court or administration to shine but they had better keep up. He did not push the horses. There was breakfast and dinner with occasional breaks along the way for relief or fresh water. Often the King would speak briefly with his people watching in awe from the side of the road. Occasionally Nag Kath spoke with the Lord but mostly he stayed to the escort. All of them carried swords but alternated with lance and bow. The royal progress arrived in Edoras seven days later, the same time it took Nag Kath riding alone.

The King and his advisors would stay with King Eomer for three days. Everyone else could stay in the tents. As it happened, Nag Kath had the offer of a bed in the modest part of town. Dornlas was out on an errand but Annlie invited him inside for tea as an old friend. Tomorrow night there was to be a feast for the entire company but he was theirs tonight and two days hence. One of their twins married two years ago. The other still lived here but was serious about a nice young officer in the militia. She worked in a store run by one of her parent's lessees.

Dornlas walked in after admiring the steed tied to the rail. Just as the last time, he gave the Elf a crushing hug and insisted on something stronger than tea. That was mostly for show since neither of them drank much. When Torenne got home after work, the women saw to a splendid fish dinner with greens and fresh loaves. Nag Kath thought very fondly of being able to see folk who were important in his life, as he was in theirs. He did not age in body but his mind had fully matured. He thought of himself of an age with Dornlas and King Eomer and all the friends he made over the years. After the last year in Minas Tirith, he needed friends.

Nothing in Edoras every worked quite as planned. In the morning he and Dornlas were drinking their tea on the porch in their stocking feet when a familiar Lieutenant rode down and dismounted in front of them. Dornlas called out, "Morning, Fellingas. You're up with the chickens."

He smiled and delivered the news, "With royal visitors we are at beck and call, Dornlas."

Torenne wandered out on the porch at the commotion and smiled at the young officer. She had her mother's looks, which was a blessing. Fellingas looked a bit self-conscious. She asked, "Can I get you hot tea?"

"Nay, fair lady. This is official. Lord Kath, the King and Queen would like a word before the banquet. Could you attend them at quarter of the seven-bell this evening?"

Nag Kath said, "Thank you Lieutenant. Please tell their Highnesses that I would be honored."

The three on the porch watched in agony for the young man to say something else to the waiting Torenne but all he could manage was, "Thank you, sir. Dornlas, your family is welcome too. This will be a gathering in the old style." As he was riding back to Meduseld, both men looked at the daughter who had a sip of tea and walked back inside.

Dornlas, Annlie and Torenne walked with Nag Kath into the Golden Hall. They were early but the room was already filling. An assistant chamberlain showed Nag Kath to the royal quarters which were located behind the throne. He was seated at a small table. Ale was brought but he would not touch it until raised in toast to his hosts.

Not long after, the King and Queen entered and dismissed the door guards. Nag Kath rose and bowed. King Eomer said, "My Lady, this is Nag Kath, recently of Gondor." The Elf bowed again. "Please, be seated."

Queen Lothíriel looked a great deal like her brother Erchirion of Dol Amroth. It was said their son looked very much like her father Prince Imrahil. She said, "Thank you for joining us, Lord Kath."

"I am honored, My Lady."

"It is I who am honored. You did my family a great service in saving my brother and possibly my father at risk to yourself. I am pleased to thank you in person."

Nag Kath graciously accepted the compliment and said, "I have not kept-up with the south. I hope all goes well with Lord Erchirion and his family."

"It has been some months since I last heard but his girls are strong and fine. He is restored and beloved once again." The Queen added with a little mirth, "And I understand the healer you left behind cannot retire for all of the lordly business coming her way."

That brought the Nag Kath grin, "I should imagine, Your Highnesses! Mrs. Hürna was probably the strongest of her kind left among free peoples. She will be safe in your father's fair land."

Eomer said almost as a question, "Not the strongest, perhaps."

"I am a work in progress, My Lord."

The Lady asked, "What did you do for my brother?"

"He had been influenced by two witches working in concert, much as Saruman had confounded My Lord's Kingly uncle. I interrupted their lines of power and Miss Hürna completed his treatment since she was the expert in restoration. Your Lord father's men watched where the witches were joined and discovered they were hired by a man of the court seeking to elevation his position."

Éomer then said, "And you brought water to the people as you said."

"Yes, sir. I think of that as healing beforehand. I am sure King Aragorn has told you but your Lady Sister is well and sends her regards." Faramir would be in Minas Tirith now as Steward until the King's return.

The King then asked, "My dear, have I told you the story about the wargs?"

"Many times, my love. We should join the others." With that they rose and walked into the Golden Hall.

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King Aragorn, his officers and staff were already there as were a dozen Lords of the Mark, some with wives. Unlike Gondor, ranking women seldom traveled the great distances necessary to get here on relatively short notice. The King's main properties were but two hours away and he spent more time in the capital than many of his predecessors.

The hall in Meduseld wore many hats. It was the throne room, the largest meeting hall in the Kingdom, seat of justice for a variety of grievances and could hold a grand party. Large tables were scattered throughout the room. Other than the royal dais, people sat where they wanted. Ale casks were at convenient tables with what must be the entire stock of mugs in the county. Before everyone sat for the meal, Nag Kath asked Dornlas if Captain Altheras' family was represented.

The lanky soldier-turned-landlord said, "Aye, I saw his grandson, at least, I think it was him, looks like his grandmother if that helps." In a land of tall men, their own height did not help in surveying the crowd. "We don't generally mix socially but if I see him again, I'll mention you. Look for the same Landsdown gorge patches on his collar." Nag Kath saw Torenne talking with friends. She caught his gaze but did not respond. When a tall soldier brought her a mug he realized that was the twin sister. Dornlas admitted, "I know. I can't tell them apart either."

Nag Kath wandered about looking for older wounded men but did not see any. He did run into Captain Altheras saying, "Excuse me, sir. I am Nag Kath and was known to your grandfather after the war. He was very kind to me."

The man did favor his elegant grandmother. Reaching out his hand he said, "Delthanas Whormandal, at your service, Nag Kath. Forgive me; I do not recall how you met."

"I was in the party that returned from the White City all those years ago. Your grandfather gave me a sword upon reaching Edoras and I value it greatly."

"Yes, now I remember him saying so. You are aging well, sir."

Nag Kath brushed his hair behind his ear. Wormandal nodded his understanding and said, "You were the one with the wargs."

It would take several more generations for that story to become a legend. Nag Kath asked, "I also drew a picture of the mountains across the plain here. Has that survived?"

The Captain's eyes brightened as he exclaimed, "Yes! That has an honored position in the great room. Every time I come here I look at the view in remembrance."

"Then it lives on." They talked for a time with the usual offer to visit when one or the other was close. Nag Kath mentioned he was returning to a home in Dale after a long absence. Dale was much in conversation here. As separate kingdoms with friendly Gondor between, they had become major trading partners in what was called the Reunited Peace.

~o~

The royals and dignitaries found their places at the head but remained standing as King Éomer raised a fine goblet. The Hall went silent, "Lords, Ladies, friends and patriots, I present to you King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor and Arnor!"

That brought a deafening thunder of cheers and applause. Éomer continued, "He is come today with his noble host to celebrate our victory together and look to great things in our future!"

King Aragorn waited until the din died. He was not as good as bellowing as his brother King but was still effective in a crowd, "Thank you for coming and sharing our festivities. Memories made here then and now from the courage and love between our peoples will live on for an age!"

Edorans could punish the pantry as well as anyone in Middle-earth. Nag Kath sat with Dornlas talking old times and watching Torenne bat her eyelashes at bashful young men. The Lieutenant had better make his move soon. When the last course was done, folk began mingling again or leaving for an early start in the morning. King Aragorn remembered and greeted many of the men who came to Gondor's aid, including Dornlas who was wounded at Morannon. They were the gray hairs and no hairs in this lot.

The next day was uneventful so folk could recover from the Rohan red. As was his habit, King Aragorn let half of his men enjoy while the other half stood guard. They alternated events. Nag Kath was invited up to the hall again on the day of their departure to be fared well by the King and Queen. She had a special smile for her brother's sake. This was the first time Nag Kath saw Prince Elfwine, who did indeed look like his grandfather Imrahil.

Two days later they rode to the Deep. Nag Kath should have gotten a chill in his spine from this place but it hadn't bothered him either time. He still thought of it as the place where Regalid got lucky. King Aragorn took a late lunch with the Provost Marshall but his purpose here was to see Gimli who had splendid meals planned himself. Most of the escort was billeted in the Deeping Halls as the King, his ministers and Nag Kath were shown inside the Glittering Caves, no waiting or surly junior Dwarves this time. Again a splendid time was had with feasting and Durin's Folk's version of the malted ale. The Elf did get a few minutes in with Gimli and presented him a sketch of the waterfall with a stone inscribed in his honor. Thurgin was also there and lauded among both peoples.

This was only a two-day affair. On the second morning, Nag Kath asked the King if they would be stopping in Isengard. At first Aragorn wondered if the Elf did not want to go there. It can't have been a place of warm associations. To reassure the Elf he said, "No, we will send a runner out today bringing the Provost to the Gap for discussions."

The famed grin emerged before he said, "Then may I suggest the man have a look through the stores. Gandalf kept his firework powders boxed in the kitchen, well away from flames. I do not think he took them when he left. With your permission, I could sketch the box in the event it is still piled in the back." Nag Kath thought for a moment and added, "It would help if the man can read and under no circumstance should he inspect it by torch."

Aragorn smiled as well and asked Nag Kath to do so with haste as the man would ride shortly. When the cortege reached the Gap, the Provost reported finding the small, strong crate. It was to stay where it was until the King passed this way again or sent to Minas Tirith if Aragorn took another route. The man did bring two of each color back as Nag Kath asked.

One of the first bridges built after the war was a joint project between Aragorn and Éomer across the Isen. Now almost twenty five years old, it was in superb condition, anchored in solid rock on either side over a chasm slightly upstream of the old ford. Crossing it brought him to a land of memory. He learned to fish here, was threatened by the Huntsman. He saved the Durgan cousins and met Tal.

This was no hard fight. Farmers lined the roads as the procession came by, throwing spring flowers in their path. There were still hillmen, but they stayed to their hills in pockets above and below the Meados holdings. Trum Dreng was even more prosperous and of enough size that the King agreed to a stately dinner.

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They arrived early which gave Nag Kath time to ride the streets and recall events that lived in his mind. The granary was now divided into shops but the little loading compound was still there. The cobbler's had a weaving sign out front. To his relief, the mayor was not named Cathad and no middle-aged men burned their stares through him. The Elf did ask if Elf Slippers were still the pride of the town and was assured they were but he was a month early.

Just when he thought he got away clean, a tall, elderly man arrived late and made his obeisance to the King before sitting five chairs from Nag Kath. It was Captain Marchand. The Elf leaned over his dinner and caught the man's eye. Marchand's hearty grin emerged and he called, "By thunder! It is the Scourge of the Revanthars!"

Everyone at the table went silent looking at the man who did not seem to mind. The Captain was as close to royalty as Trum Dreng could boast. Mayor Gurthan quickly said, "Sire, may I introduce Colonel Marchand of the Northpass."

The King defused the situation by saying, "It is good to see you again, sir. Thank you for your service."

"It has always been my honor, My King."

Nag Kath excused himself and sat on the end to talk old times with his fellow conspirator. He would have much to tell Talereth when he saw her again.

The barge camp was now a formal ferry station but still served the same purpose of accumulating loose logs from upstream or preparing them for use later. A third of the guard took the first trip. The King was on the second and the rear-guard followed. Two days further along, Nag Kath showed them where he met the Huntsman. There was even a crackle in the air. The King looked east and said quietly, "He did not care for me and my kin when we traveled these lands long ago. We were both trying to keep it safe for our own kind." Turning to Nag Kath he asked, "Do you think he is still out there?"

"We parted on good terms but I think we should let him sleep if he is at his great Hall. Sire, I would think of him as a watchdog. If he is roused to hunt, it will mean enemies have returned."

Aragorn agreed, "Then we will let him slumber."

The trip to Tharbad was just as dull and featureless. Even if the Huntsman was not awake, mosquitoes were. Men knew to bring sheer cotton gauze to wrap around their necks and faces. Horses swished their tails as best they could but everyone wanted to make the river as soon as possible. The city was largely un-restored. The south bank was in much better shape and the much of the center had been demolished to use the stones for quay. The Gwalthlo still flooded almost every year but it had not been destructive. They arrived early and crossed the bridge ferry the same way they did the Dusenorn.

Nag Kath looked for a little man selling pies and blessed his memory.

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He was on new ground. For three uneventful days they made for the market town of Thalion. It was a pleasant place. None of it looked newer than the war. Nag Kath wasn't sure how much marketing was done here since there were relatively few farms but the road was in good condition with well-established campgrounds along brisk streams. They also managed a much better dinner than they would have camping in the wild. Three more days took them to the Sarn Ford on the Baranduin River. Now late spring, there was still enough of a flow to get everyone soaked in the crossing. This had been a stronghold of the Dunedain until being driven out by the Ringwraiths in the war. The place had the usual crumbling Numenorean statuary but no one lived here. As they let their things dry on the west bank, King Aragorn sat next to Nag Kath and asked him to sketch the site with a view to building a bridge here someday.

The company cut overland to avoid following the bend in the river but rejoined it after skirting the Overbourn Marches and fording the Shirebourn Stream. Then the road more or less followed the Brandywine, as it was called here, to the town of Stock.

The crafty ranger King could have traveled any number of trails to Hobbiton but he had a good reason to take the long way. In Stock, Aragorn formally applied at the Town Hall for permission to enter. They had been hugging the inside periphery of the Shire for several days but not intruding. This was staged in advance. Master Veritude Blankfoot approved the writ with a flourish of his huge, carved stamp. If the King himself had to request passage according to his own rules, no one else could claim there were too busy to comply.

They politely declined the Master's offer of hospitality to cut the corner to a more sizeable Hobbit town called Whitfurrows on the East Road. The King and a few of the older members of the company stayed at a pleasant little inn and everyone else made camp. It was rumored that brewed beverages were brought to the soldiers by admiring subjects. Nag Kath never said.

Men were in the saddles at dawn for a hard ride to the heart of the Shire. They followed the south bank of the River Water through Frogmorton and the little town of Bywater. Turning northeast just past the junction of the three farthings, the horses clattered into the hamlet of Hobbiton. Along the whole way, citizens came out to cheer and watch. Some threw flowers along the road but most just smiled and waved. Captain Bessandol had the men secure the horses in a paddock several hundred paces from the village.

~o~

It was no secret the King was coming. A huge tent had been erected in a flat pasture with several smaller tents arrayed in a semi-circle around it. One was the barracks for the tall people. One was for the King. Hobbits of all shapes and sizes were preparing in no great rush. It was nearing dinner time for folk who took dinner very seriously.

A fine feast had been laid for the soldiers. As in Edoras, half of his security detail had to be on duty at any given time. The others could participate in festivities. They would be here two days so each tranche would take some leisure. The King, his officers and staff, including Nag Kath, would eat in a third tent with a few Shire notables. The Elf was last to join them after seeing to the horses.

There were more than a few notables. Like in Rohan, the long, lead table had reserved seats but everyone else sat where they liked. There was certainly an unspoken protocol but Nag Kath did not know it. He sat towards the back with the Mayor of Tuckborough, his wife and three merchant couples from Michel Delving. As Nag Kath already well knew, Hobbit women had no trouble expressing their views, especially since ale had been flowing even before the King arrived. He offered the occasional view on the world at large but the conversation mostly turned on the local sensation that Mrs. Goodwallace, a reputable and comely widow, was considering marriage to Lestam Fairweather, of all people!

It was understood that the royal company would be tired with much to do tomorrow so the guests excused themselves after punishing piles of viands and more than a few goblets of wine from the Southfarthing. When his table emptied, he caught Aragorn's glance at the head table and rose to join them. There were three Hobbit men and their wives. He sat in an empty chair as one of the couples joined the townsmen leaving the room. The King said, "Ladies, Gentlemen, this is Nag Kath. Nag Kath, these are Meriodic and Estella Brandybuck and Peregrin and Diamond Took."

Nag Kath said, "It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your hospitality."

He wasn't sure if this was arranged but the women saw a friend near where Nag Kath had been sitting and excused themselves to say goodbye. Peregrin reached out his hand to shake and said, "You are welcome."

Merry did the same. The King was not sure how Nag Kath would be received but needn't have worried. There was very little about the changeling that was not known to these Hobbits and most of that was good. Pippin said, "As my cousin Lemuel Took has it, you were one of the White Hand Uruks of Helm's Deep!" He had his share of ale as well and was never bashful.

"Actually, Thain Took, I was one of the company trying to ambush your Fellowship. The main group went to Rauros and a small group of us backtracked up the Mering Stream in the event you went to Minas Tirith."

That was Boromir's recommendation. Both of the Hobbits evaluated the Elf for a moment. It had been thirty years since the war and they would never forget the faces of the Uruk-hai who captured and abused them fleeing to Orthanc. Nag Kath smelled better. Merry asked, "How did you survive?"

"Wiser minds than mine are not sure. The prevailing theory is that I have some of Saruman's blood in me that avoided the death of the ring." Aragorn listened intently. He had never heard more than the rough translation of this story in Nag Kath's interrogation and thought he should have talked a lot more with the Elf about other than water.

Nag Kath continued, "I was captured and in prison when the battle on the Pelennor raged. After Sauron was destroyed, I spent the next year changing. Now this is speculation; but I read in Rivendell that Morgoth captured Elves, mutilating them with sorcery to create his orcs. It took considerable time. Knowing what I now know of Elvish recuperation, the Dark Lord must have done this many times, waiting until the Elves almost healed and then subjecting them to worse torment. I did the reverse. I would be stricken by pain and then sleep for a few days, eat a little and then repeat the process, may be a hundred times. When King Aragorn ordered me released, I walked out like this.

"Gandalf said he had returned from death to complete his task. Perhaps I am here to continue in his footsteps."

Pip asked, "Will you go to Undying Lands? Elves come through here on their way to the Grey Havens, or they used to, making for the great ships."

"Nay. I have not felt the pull of Valinor. They leave because they must. And, I have not been invited. Elves tolerate me but I am not of them. I just turned 33 last week so I finally look my age. I have always lived among men and count it a good life."

The two Hobbits, looked at each other and thought they had better collect their better halves and find a bed. Merry announced, "We are off. Tomorrow we will have a grand feast to celebrate the return of the King."

Nag Kath said, "Tonight was no small event."

King Aragorn chuckled and chimed-in, "Then you know less of Halflings than you think! Gentlemen, I will see you in the morning." They made their way out.

~o~

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Being the only one in the Shire who did not need sleep, Nag Kath took his blanket out to a knoll near the little stone bridge and sat watching the stars. He was glad his meeting with the Fellowship Hobbits had gone well. One of them was missing but he still might meet him at the celebration. Looking at the tent by the half-moon, he wondered if this was where great Bilbo disappeared and set off to Rivendell. So much had happened here. Aragorn could more easily have made for Fornost and then to his incipient summer capital of Annúminas on the lake, but only three times in his long kingship did he bypass the Shire both up and down from the White City.

Hobbits aren't early risers. A few were up with the chickens but it wasn't until full light that the town began to stir. Nag Kath stood and stretched before walking by the paddock to scratch Charlo and collect his art satchel in the barracks tent. He then walked to the other side of the bridge to sketch the party tent and scenery. That was an ill-fated intention. He was not halfway through when children gathered round him whispering and giggling. The second plan was to give each of them a picture of their faces to universal delight. It took two hours. One little girl, hand-in-hand with an older brother, looked like a miniature version of how Helien might have grown. His heart grew heavy but he put it aside so the little girl could share in the joy with her friends. When the kids left he filled-in details on the Sarn Ford bridge for the King.

Dozens of Halflings were carting, rolling or carrying things to the party tent. These folk are earnest about their celebrations and sampled everything to be sure it was of sufficient quality. That slowed their effectiveness as the day wore on but not their enthusiasm. Nag Kath lent a hand carrying some of the heavier items and introducing himself to the woolly-footed little people. Near the stream, most of the soldiers had taken discreet swims to clean weeks of dust out of the pores and do a little laundry. Horses and weapons were cleaned too. Days of rest were rare when traveling with the King.

Aragorn was right. This was indeed a celebration to make his Syndolan Eve parties look puny. There must have been two hundred Hobbits at least walking to the tent when the hour approached. And unlike most free-peoples, children were invited and welcome. These were such well-mannered folk that their little ones needn't be excluded from conversation. Nag Kath walked inside the tent and introduced himself to anyone who cared.

~o~

There was Ambassador Higgenboth in the ale line. He had retired and returned home four years before but was, alas, recently widowed. They shared stories of Minas Tirith before the gentleman was swept away by well-meaning relatives eager to introduce him to a fine lady from Michel Delving who was visiting the Bolgers for a week. As with the night before, Nag Kath joined a table of townsfolk who had an endless supply of local gossip. It included the mother of the little girl from the bridge. Nag Kath waved at the child and she held her hands over her face only to peek through her fingers and see he was still there. She had her picture in a smock pocket.

The evening officially started with speeches long and short from the good citizens of the Shire and a few words from the King. With so many toasts, Nag Kath wondered that his fellow celebrants would be soused, but the clever Hobbits need only take a sip after crying; 'Hear, hear' to observe the forms. Everyone had a roaring good time. His table had an animated discussion between two elderly farmers that kept everyone's attention.

After the meal, parents began taking children home, some to return. Others mingled with friends they had not seen since lunch. Pippin and King Aragorn walked through the crowd saying hello to many. Merry and a shorter, rounder Hobbit came from the other direction and met near Nag Kath's table. The Elf gestured for them to take the empty chairs.

Merry said, "Nag Kath, this is Samwise Gamgee, another of our Fellows!"

Nag Kath stood and offered his hand. The Hobbit shook it somewhat haltingly but said nothing before finding his seat. Pippin had by now downed uncounted half-pints of the local tan. It was time for one of his oldest stories. Folk at the table secretly groaned but they stayed because Hobbits love old stories.

He began, "It was long ago at a great party right here! Merry and I were so much younger then!"

Merry cried, "I was a mere wisp of a lad!"

Pippin rejoined, "Gandalf was setting off his fireworks for Bilbo's birthday, not that we knew he was leaving that very night! And didn't you know; we made off with a great rocket and fired it ourselves. We must have aimed it wrong because it became a huge dragon that swooped down on the revelers and scared them silly. Then it exploded over the lake and all rejoiced."

Merry chided gently, "I told you to set it in the ground."

Nag Kath said softly, "I have a tale you can add to that." He knew that if you can make yourself heard; speaking quietly will get more attention that yelling over a din. The table became still. "Masters Meriodoc and Peregrin; the Ents restored Orthanc to a place of beauty and growth not long after you left. To clean up, Gandalf let iron miners from Dunland salvage the slag and leavings in the pits. It was hard, dirty work but still much easier than pounding the same amount of metal from solid rock.

"The understanding was that they could keep whatever they found but they had to take it far away for smelting so as not to disturb Gandalf's studies. Well, most salvagers complied, but not all. Then one night, a flock of flaming red Nazgul screamed down from the clouds directly over the former Dunlending quarters in retribution for the foul noise. The miners were terrified and behaved from that day on! Six months later, on Syndolan Eve, the wizard let loose his great silver and green rockets. The salvagers were sure terror was unleashed again but their little children came out and giggled. It was then they knew they had been fooled. Gandalf chuckled every time he thought of that!"

Everyone laughed except Samwise. A fellow at the end of the table toasted, "Now Pip, you have a better ending for your story!"

Nag Kath spoke thoughtfully, "Gandalf was very fond of you two, although he would get sore frustrated as well."

Merry objected, "We were perfect gentlemen!"

The Elf countered, "It was more the situation. This is a funny story too. The whole time I was there, Gandalf was forever fussing with inferior Cardolan pipe weed. He did not care for the taste and could never keep it lit. Radagast sympathized, which only made it worse. And all the while, he would lament that both of you made off with the best leaf!"

Pippin cried, "It was his own fault! He should have been quicker off the mark."

"Oh, he would agree with you. It think it was more that Saruman had scolded him for his liking of Halfling weed and secretly had a stash of the finest. All Gandalf could get was what he called, well, we'll leave that description for when the children are abed." Looking at the unrepentant Pippin, "And yours was gone by Edoras."

Aragorn chuckled, thinking of his old friend, and lit a pipe of his own followed by several around the table. Nag Kath never smoked himself but enjoyed the aroma. Merry boasted; "See, Pip! I was always his favorite."

Nag Kath said quietly, "Nay, Master Meriodic. He loved you all, you and Frodo and Mr. Samwise too, but his favorite was Bilbo. He had his big, heroic Gondoran and Rohirrim guards with him but they were no hands at ferreting out the secrets of that nasty old castle. Many are the times he wished he had his burglar. I found a few things." Looking to the King, "I hope you got Elendil's miter." Aragorn nodded.

~o~

The Elf became more subdued, "But there was more. He said he knew when Bilbo relinquished the One Ring that there was hope for free peoples. His own mood was black, but that one act of selflessness rekindled his spirit and gave him strength for what was to come."

Just as his tale ended, the young woman from the table came up to Samwise and kissed him on the cheek before saying, "Rosa is ready to sleep, da. I'll take her home." Looking at the little girl she said, "And what do you say?"

The child walked to Nag Kath with her picture and said, "Thank you, Mr. Kaff." Duty done, she ran to her mother and showed her grandda the sketch. He looked at the sweet face on the sheet for a long moment before the Gamgees bowed to the King and made for their homes.

King Aragorn and Nag Kath also started for their tents. On the way, the King asked, "Will you return to the White City, Nag Kath?"

"I intend to, Sire, but it may be a while. My family there is lost to me. I will travel, learn and make what I can of myself."

The King said thoughtfully, "Now that you have been abroad, do you think your talents are more Elvish or sorcerous?"

"More sorcerous, but both are weak. I have had no real training. When I think that the great Elvish healers or any of the wizards are many thousands of years old, I suppose that is to be expected."

Aragorn continued, "If you think to continue Gandalf's work, I have heard reports of stirrings in the barrow downs. Before Bree, to the right, is where Angmar soldiers were buried and said to be made murderous ghosts by the Witch-King. Merry and Éowyn killed him but some of his foul spells linger."

Nag Kath said, "There seems no shortage of dead Angmaris. We trod on them in east Dunland."

"You might be the only one left in Middle-earth who would notice if something's amiss. Keep your eyes peeled. Come see me when you can. Thank you again for bring the water to my people."

The Elf bowed and blessed his liege, "I wish you all the best in your governance and will help again as I can. Go in peace, My Lord."

"And you, Nag Kath."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

As usual, Aragorn's company was off early. He would take the three day trip to Annúminas where, hopefully, work was being done on his summer capital. It had not been a working city for almost two thousand years but many buildings were salvageable.

Nag Kath was at leisure. Charlo was concerned at being left behind so his master scratched behind his ear and soothed him. The Elf had some left-over porridge and cut a cane to try his hand at fishing in the little river running along the town. Two large trout, unfamiliar with string-wrapped hooks were quickly taken and wrapped in a wet towel for tonight's dinner.

He wandered around the town to get a sense of the place before taking the road back the way he came. Up one of the hills he saw Samwise Gamgee sitting in a comfortable chair in his front garden enjoying a pipe. The Hobbit rose to no towering height and shook hands over the fence saying, "I hope your visit was a pleasant one, Mr. Kaff."

"Indeed, Master Samwise. Your home is as fair as described. Was that your granddaughter last night?"

"Rosa."

"Oh, here is another picture." Nag Kath handed Sam a sketch of the older brother who brought Rosa to the bridge. "He was not much interested but perhaps his parents will like it."

The sketch was on the back side of a sheet of old aqueduct notes with a doodling of an arch. The Elf seldom threw paper away. Sam looked at both sides and asked, "You are a historian?"

"Oh yes. I have no past so I borrow others'. My next stop is Rivendell to visit the library."

Master Samwise Gamgee paused for a moment before saying, "Follow me. Do you like tea?"

~o~

Nag Kath stooped low to get through the round door and then stood to almost his full height. He must be the tallest person to ever be inside this hole. Because the ceiling was arched to support the weight of the soil above, he could stand at the center of each room. A tousled, middle-aged woman wandered in wearing her robe looking shocked at first and then slightly piqued at her husband for not announcing guests. She was introduced as Rosie and she volunteered to get tea for the visitor after changing into something more presentable.

Sam showed the Elf into another room where a large book was open on a purpose-built stand. Sam nodded towards it but said nothing. Nag Kath carefully flipped backwards a few pages. Samwise said, "That is the Red Book of Westmarch. Bilbo started it, Frodo continued and I have added a few things over the years. You might enjoy reading it."

Nag Kath picked it off the stand and looked for a place to sit without hitting his head. One chair looked taller than the others and he sank into it holding the red book in his lap. Rosie returned with a mug of tea and the two Hobbits left him alone.

It took two hours to read and another to go back to places he bookmarked with scraps of sketch paper to make notes. His tea was cold by the time he noticed. Nag Kath rose and carefully put the volume back on its stand. Then he wandered into the main room and cleared his throat. Rosie came from a back room and curtsied. Sam was in moments later.

Nag Kath said, "That was very generous of you, sir. Most of what I read is old and long completed. This is alive. Please take good care of that. It is special."

The Elf did not wonder at Sam's reticence. There was no reason to think he had been forgiven or forgotten by all in Middle-earth. Merry and Pip were abducted and mistreated by his own pod-spawn before being rescued by Éomer. They recovered from their wounds and trauma. But Sam saw his best friend stabbed in the soul, so deeply that he needed to leave with folk he hardly knew hoping for solace in a faraway land. Nag Kath did that himself. It was a basis for understanding.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Hobbiton did not sound bells for the time. They had water clocks of course, good ones too, but how folk managed their time was their business. Nag Kath made it about ten in the morning when he pointed Charlo east. For the next few days Nag Kath would retrace his route on the East Road. Folk were not used to seeing big people. Quite a few remembered him with Aragorn's company days before and waved, or did not care and waved anyway. Nag Kath always stopped to chat. Older Hobbits remembered days when all used their roads, but no one under thirty-five was used to seeing anyone as tall as him or full-sized horses.

With the late start and no particular hurry, they made Frogmorton by dinner. He gave his fish to the kitchen and enjoyed a good meal with cheerful companions. Nag Kath was past needing sleep except after magic, which was good since the inn had no beds even close to his size.

The next day brought horse and rider to the Brandywine Bridge. This was one of the oldest bridges he had seen in Middle-earth. Friends and foes used it rather than burning it. Nag Kath took some comfort in that. The river was the border into Arnor. Just to the other side was a small village whose sole purpose was trading with Hobbits. Both sides took their sovereignty seriously. Large carts exchanged goods with small carts. Almost every place had ale on tap.

When he wasn't well-wishing, Nag Kat thought about the King's admonition about troubles just south. Anything Aragorn said was serious by itself but Frodo's entries in the Red Book also mentioned the Barrow-downs. By loose accounts, the Numenorean Witch-King sent foul ghosts to inhabit honored graves of the fallen. Now that the Chief Nazgûl was dead; were his spells failing? Or were former servants taking powers unto themselves?

~o~

They stopped at an established campsite along the road about ten miles east of the bridge with enough light for Charlo to graze. Nag Kath claimed a smaller fire-ring, the larger ones already taken. Three camps over were several Dwarves who led stout ponies when loaded and rode them after deliveries. He approached them as noisily as possible and introduced himself asking if they had tidings of Dale. These fellows were from the western side of the Misty Mountains but amiable and knew or knew of folk Nag Kath had met.

Back at his camp, the Elf made a pot of tea and nibbled way-bread. Two men in the camp just east were having an animated discussion about disturbances in the water. The conversation ended with one man shouting; 'Aughhh!' and the other saying, "Here, let me see."

Nag Kath brought his little medical kit to offer aid. By firelight he saw two small people, perhaps Dwarf-height, but much leaner and balder with no beards. One stopped to look at him while the other hopped from foot to foot holding his left hand tightly and hissing in pain.

Nag Kath said, "I heard distress. I am a healer if I can be of assistance."

The injured man said more in anger than shock, "Cut myself on a loose wheel rim."

The other scolded, "I told you that needed fixin'."

"I know! Let us wait until this is cared-for first!"

Nag Kath offered, "Let me have a look."

The Man released the grip of his good hand and opened the other. Then he wiped the blood on his trousers to display a nasty laceration down the palm that had not reached the artery in his wrist. Nag Kath nodded and said, "I've got something for that. Is your tea water hot?"

The uninjured man said, "Aye, but it is already tea."

Nag Kath told the hurt man to gently squeeze a clean cloth from the bag and said to the other, "That should be fine." Then he fished two small bottles from the bag and asked for a quarter inch of tea in a cup. Mixing a pinch from each bottle, he stirred it into paste with his finger and then smeared that on the wound. The bleeding man yowled but held his hand firm. Nag Kath closed the man's fist around the cloth again and applied a pain spell in soft silver. Neither man liked the look of that but with relief came acceptance.

The healthy man said, "We are in your debt, sir. I am Lembert Fellens and this clumsy fellow is my older brother Wenbert. I have frequently told him to repair that wheel rim but he needs memorable lessons."

Wenbert was in no mood to discuss it. The Elf rejoined, "I am Nag Kath, just recently in the Shire and now making for the mountains. Mr. Fellens, I need to sew that tear shut. The silver you saw will kill the pain for less than a bell so we should do this now. The man nodded and held steady as Nag Kath used one of his fishhooks that had been bent half open with the barb ground flat on a rock. It took seventeen small loops.

The Elf said, "I am afraid that your brother will have to do the heavy lifting for a week or two else you might pull the stitches. Replace the bandage twice a day and apply that poultice until it is gone."

Wenbert ventured, "Lembert often does the work that does not require thinking. What do we owe you for your medicining?"

"Please, do not think of it. Heal well and hoist a half-pint when you can grip it."

Lembert said, "We can offer you no better than the tea you just used, but you are welcome to more."

The Elf smiled, "That is a generous offer! Let me quench my own fire and I will rejoin you directly."

The brothers were River People. They did not volunteer any specifics of their race or where they were from, at first. Not all merchants left home on the best of terms. They could not have known he overheard their concerns about eastern waters so Nag Kath took the roundabout way to that conversation. "I was just in the Shire and am traveling to Bree. Do you know it?"

Lembert said, "Course! Can't hardly get from here to there as you don't go through Bree."

"I was traveling with a company from the south and parted ways a few days ago so I am new to these lands."

The pain spell was wearing-off and Wenburt was trying not to open and shut his fist against the throbbing. He still managed to say, "With the King, were you?"

Since he knew there was no reason to dissemble, "Aye, he makes for Arnor while I travel to Dale."

Lemburt grinned, "No secrets here, Nag Kath. We are bringing salted pork from Bree to replenish their stocks after what must have been Lordly gatherings. Are you a counselor to King Aragorn?"

Nag Kath enunciated carefully, "Yes, I helped with an aqueduct in Osgiliath. Now that the taint of Mordor is past, a stream from the Ephal Düath is clean to drink."

Lemburt probed, "Know you of darkness in water, then?"

"A little."

Lemburt looked at his brother who was trying to stay quiet and then followed with, "There is a small lake south of the east road. It is no great body of water at all. Folk there are fishermen but they are sore worried about it."

Wenburt interrupted, "It is not the water. It is something in it. Fish on hooks come out bitten in two. We came up the crossroads at Nylar's Grove and passed by yesterday, no, two days ago."

The Elf asked, "Is it something to be vanquished or avoided?"

Wenbert; "Depends on your sense of propriety."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath gave the Wenbert another pain spell in the morning and then steered Charlo south to follow the stream to Nylar's Grove. At his speed, the lake wasn't more than four hours out of his way. He checked the stream for contamination before letting Charlo drink.

There was a small village on the west bank of the lake where he saw an assortment of farmers, merchants. Children played hide-and-call along an ancient stone fence. There was nothing that looked like an inn or tavern so he asked one of the lads where he might get a bite. The bravest of them said the larger house at the corner had fare.

You had your choice of fresh loaves or fresh loaves with butter. He took the latter and munched one sitting inside a small, fenced patio. The lad who mentioned the place walked by and Nag Kath asked him if the lake offered good fishing to catch his dinner. That was a roundabout way of asking if local folk minded strangers pulling fish out of their lake. The boy said it was fair but not to go out in a boat.

Nag Kath tore the end from his buttered loaf for Charlo and collected his line from a tube strapped next to the art tube. He had no worms and he wasn't really trying to catch anything so he cut a cane pole and selected a hook tied with green thread.

The water had a strange feel. Pretending to wash his hands, he felt it and let colors wash over him. The water itself was fine but felt there was something below, a presence. None of the fish of Nylar's Grove were interested in green thread but he kept tossing it out and watching the surface. A hundred yards down on the same side of the long lake several other fishermen suddenly pulled their lines and scurried up the bank. They were too far to hear but clearly not enjoying their sport. He wandered their way tossing his line twice before reaching them and saying, "I declare; these fish are smarter than I am today!"

Two men and a lad of about fourteen gave him a hard scowl. He did not think that was because he was trying to catch their fish. Acting embarrassed as if he had interrupted something private he said, "Excuse me, fellows. Is something wrong?"

One of the men growled, "No, nothing. This place is open if you like." The others looked at him as if not sure that was good advice but they kept their lips buttoned.

As fishermen often do, Nag Kath asked, "What are they biting?"

The father of the boy said, "You'll catch nothing worth eating here today."

Nag Kath changed to his Elf Lord voice, "Tell me of this place."

If the men weren't frightened before, they were now. Neither man could mouth the words but the lad had no trouble, "There's something fell under the surface, been there some months."

The Elf asked, "Just one?"

His father found his tongue, "Far as we can tell."

"What is it?"

The fellow who offered him their spot said, "Rendovas said he seen it, though he isn't reliable after his ale. A mating of man and fish or beast. Eats the fish off the line."

Nag Kath; "And you just saw it?"

The lad answered, "Saw the ripple. Scares the fish away. We'd rather eat fish than gruel, but this is no bargain."

"Tell me, then, is this creature flesh or spirit?"

The boy's father ordered, "Go fetch Rendovas." As he dashed for the village his da added, "And bring him back dry."

~o~

No one said anything for the ten minutes it took to bring a shambling old fellow with a halo of ginger hair around his gleaming head. Rendovas gave a courtly bow and waited well away from the shore.

Nag Kath did not want to scare him so he said softly, "Tell me, friend, what apparition lurks in this lake?"

The man reached for his head to remove the cap he had forgotten on the peg and shuffled slightly before saying, "Saw him plain as day. That is, as plain as a man can see what should not be. Rose and stood on the water, dripping but not wet. I ran home, left my line on the bank, I did."

Nag Kath gently coaxed a better description from the frightened villager. The other three listened intently. He would not have been surprised if one or both of the men were leaders of local folk. Then he asked what no reasonable being would ask, "How do I bring it to me?"

They all looked at Rendovas who would not look them back. Nag Kath thought it was for fear of monsters but some of it was that the man was the best fisherman in the village and he was being asked to divulge his secret bait. As if confessing the blackest spell of Angmar, the man groaned, "Deer jerky; soaked in barley spirit."

The lad's father ordered, "Better go get some for the man." Rendovas, followed closely by the youngster, trudged back to his home and returned with a small leather pouch. He threw it to the Elf, from the trail. Nag Kath took the pouch to the water's edge and tossed a pinch of the bait twenty feet out.

Nothing happened. He tried again. The third try brought a ripple that sent the men another ten feet up the bank. The next bit of bait landed closer in. This time they caught a glimpse. There wasn't much left in the sack so Nag Kath chose a target ten feet away in a deep pool and threw the rest.

The creature was not as large as a man but seemed longer, more like an eel. When it came up to the bait, Nag Kath locked it in his bringing spell and raised it from the lake. It shrieked an oath and immediately released gallons of foul liquid, like a wineskin slit from the bottom. The monster withered and died moments later. The Elf drew it towards his hand and then released the spell to let it collapse on the bank.

He leaned over and inspected it closely. This was no fish. Its scream was as if from a man. It had arms and hands like a man but the rest was a water animal with scales. And it smelled worse than anything in Orthanc. Rendovas threw-up. With as straight a face as the Elf could manage he said, "I have no idea how to cook one of these."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

That broke the pall just enough for them to gather themselves and make for the house where Nag Kath got his buttered loaf.

Inside were three tables. An old fellow sitting at one of them saw the five men enter and remembered pressing errands elsewhere. Locals at the other two tables cocked their ears.

The Elf asked, "Ever seen one of those before?"

The lad's father said, "Course not. Who and what are you?"

"I am Nag Kath."

"That's who."

The Elf added, "I have small powers. That creature was hungry. Has he eaten all of the fish?"

"The other of the two original men cleared his throat and said, "You will excuse us, Mr. Kath. We have clearly forgotten how to thank someone who had done us a service." With that he glared around the table to admonish the others whose manners had failed them. "My name is Zurzies. This motherless ingrate is Jergiens and to his left is his son Beliviens. You've met Rendovas already.

"And to answer your appropriate question, no one has caught more than bait for months. More concerning; farmer Dilvenees lost a lamb last week."

Nag Kath thought for a moment and offered, "I have no lore of purging water monsters but this one seemed rather stupid. Are there other, older spirits nearby that might be responsible?"

A large grizzled man at one of the other tables took that question; "Barrow-wights, further south, ancient dead who have not found peace."

The Elf turned to him and asked, "They were not destroyed with the Ring?"

The grizzled man's companion said, "Lore says a witch-king inflicted them to haunt the graves of good men. They can assume shape but cannot bear the sun. Heard tell those old spells linger."

Nag Kath said this to anyone who might offer aid, "Do you have any friends against this sorcery?"

Two said at once, "Tom."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

After assurances they would burn the carcass, Nag Kath continued south towards an area called the Barrow Downs. These were crypts and mass burial sites much like the ones of eastern Dunland, with much the same men as casualties. It has a nasty feel but streams flowed clear. Veering southwest towards the Old Forest of Buckland, he found an area that was very fair and lush along a good trout stream. There were no roads or houses of any sort.

The men said this was where dwelled a spirit so ancient that he came before Elves or Lords, possibly even the Valar. None of men in the store had ever seen him. None had ever volunteered to come here either so that was neither here nor there. Nag Kath made camp on the edge of the forest and waited. A doe walked up to him and accepted a treat. He did not fish but he did enjoy some tasty strawberries along with his Lembas.

For five days he waited and sketched and wrote a little, inspired by the red book in Sam's study. Was that Bag End? He never thought to ask. At mid-afternoon on the sixth day, he heard singing from the trees. He could not tell the source. Merry and forceful, if not particularly melodic, it came from everywhere at once. After a while the sound seemed to consolidate somewhere nearby and asked, "Who visits us on this lovely day, a dil a day?"

The Elf stood and called, "It is Nag Kath, a traveler new to these lands."

From the wood, seemingly near enough to touch, "I have not seen your kind before."

"I am an unlikely breed."

A figure stepped into the light from upstream. He was a stocky, bearded man with a face that was both old and young. Nag Kath thought at first he was in colorful, homespun clothes before he noticed fine embroidering in unlikely places. The man wore a feathered hat that could rival Gandalf's for weight and hard use. He could only be Tom Bombadil of Frodo's narrative. The man was appraising the changeling just as carefully.

Despite as badly as the offer had gone before, Nag Kath asked, "Can I offer you tea? It is a bit cold."

Bombadil beamed a smile of strong teeth and said, "Yes, that is just the thing! Then you can tell me about your visit." The creature made himself at home on a log while the Elf poured two cups of tepid tea. His guest served, Nag Kath sat on the log a few feet away and sipped silently.

Nag Kath thought this being was much like the Huntsman. He would not measure time since it had no meaning other than to order events. Mortals measure time in their lives, such as a great storm when Sophie was two. Nag Kath did too, for now.

Frodo's entries in the Red Book were vague until he reached the Barrow-downs. From that point they became much more detailed. Nag Kath supposed that was because it was here that the Hobbit was first called to leadership. Tom took a large slurp of the tea and smacked his lips in satisfaction. Then he observed, "You have been waiting long. That is unusual in those who walk with two legs."

"Aye. I was taught by those who value patience, though it sometimes eludes me."

"And what are you waiting for?"

"You, sir." Folk in a village to the north said I should seek your counsel. I am called Nag Kath."

Bombadil took another sip of the tea and shook his head. "I cannot think why. I live here with my wife in peace and contentment. Folk know me as Tom Bombadil, minder of green and gold."

Nag Kath had his own theories. He wondered if this being was nature made manifest so such as he could understand even a little of the wide world. Would he fade back into the forest? The Elf would rather have listened than talked but, like all hasty folk, he had questions. He reached into his satchel and pulled a picture of the monster as he remembered it alive. Handing it to Tom he said, "I destroyed this creature a week ago sixty miles north. When it was exposed to daylight, bilious liquids poured out as it withered and died. It only took a moment. And here …" pointing in the corner "… was a tattoo or mark on its arm."

Tom looked at both quickly and smiled. It was a curious face of both mirth and gravity that Nag Kath could never describe or draw later to his own satisfaction. Handing the pictures back, Tom said, "Well, we must be off if we are to get warm supper!" Then he rose and traipsed back into the forest leaving Nag Kath to collect his things and horse.

A Hobbit could not have caught the man but the Elf, walking Charlo, pulled even with him about fifteen minutes later. There was no losing him, though. Tom sang a combination of new verses and repeating choruses that could be heard no matter how far ahead he got. The lyrics made no sense but Nag Kath listened to every word in case the meanings became clearer.

~o~

That continued for two hours without rest or real conversation. As the sun was setting they reached a large, round house with light streaming out windowed doors. Nag Kath tied Charlo to a post to look at the home for a minute. He came out of his reverie when he noticed both Tom and his horse were gone. He could count on one hand the times he hadn't heard something as noisy as a horse. Well, he was here for dinner so he walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. No one answered. It was unlocked so he let himself in.

Nag Kath's first impression was that like the hall of the Elf-keepers, it seemed larger on the inside than one would guess from the outside. There was a long dining table near the center of the room. A kitchen was in the far corner and there were at least two visible hallways. He waited by the door. A few minutes later, Tom Bombadil walked in through the back door and handed him his pack.

The large main room was arrayed with plants and flowers, something like Radagast's home except much tidier. Tom called, "Goldberry, my water-daughter, I am home with a young guest. We will dine tonight, sing songs of old and delight in good company!"

From one of the halls emerged a vision of loveliness. She was a tall woman with blonde wavy hair and fine, soft features. Nag Kath would have thought her an Elf but she had a more open, understanding face. Frodo had described her more thoroughly than he had her husband. Nag Kath's heart froze because she looked so much like Flor. He was not as over Flor as he thought. Goldberry was taller than her husband and wore a pale green gown girded by a thin gold belt.

Seeming to glide across the room, the woman said, "Welcome, young Elf, if Elf you are. I am Goldberry." She smiled like Flor too. He would have to mind his manners.

The changeling bowed gracefully in gratitude, "I am Nag Kath, My Lady. Thank you for your hospitality."

Tom returned from hanging his extraordinary hat on a peg near the front door and announced, "Your fine horse is dining as well." The man gestured to one of the halls, "Please, good sir, come with me and you can wash and relax after our journey here." He took Nag Kath as far as the door and then the Elf continued to a lower back room of stone with a large clay basin of fresh water. There were pond lilies floating in it with soft towels laid nearby. He only rinsed his face and hands, having taken a Kath bath the day before. Returning to the main room, Nag Kath got the sense that there was magic in its maintenance. Keeping a home like this in Gondor would need two servants, at least, even if the master and mistress did much of the work themselves. Tom and Goldberry were clearly unattended out here in the forest. Perhaps their home kept itself; and considerably better than Radagast's.

His host and hostess showed him to the long table that had been laid with delicious foods including; fresh loaves, cheese, butter, jams and spice. Some dishes were hot but many were just picked. There was no meat or spirits of any kind. Just the same clear water as in the basin.

Nag Kath had a rough plan to learn as much as he could from these two fascinating creatures but they found much more about him by asking seemingly casual questions. It wasn't until they were almost done with the meal that Tom Bombadil said, "Let me see your pictures again, young Kath."

The Elf collected his satchel by his bag and laid the contents on the table so that the pictures he wanted were on the bottom of the stack. That was on purpose. Flipping through them in front of people often started useful conversations. One was a picture of Flor when she first moved in. That was quickly covered by a sketch of water pipe fittings but Nag Kath was sure both of his hosts saw it.

"Ah, I started on the wrong side. Here he is. This one won't win the fair lady's heart!" Nag Kath slid the drawing to Tom as Goldberry walked behind her man. The Elf rose in courtesy to his hostess' rising but she softly held her palm down for him to remain seated.

Tom said with his strange gravity and humor, "Tell me how you took the beast."

"I lured him near the bank of the lake with fishing bait. Then I used a bringing spell to raise him from the water. I cannot claim to have killed him, though. Merely being in the light seemed to empty him within moments."

Tom asked, "A bringing spell?"

"I have some powers as a wizard. Other wizards tell me it is probably from Saruman. He created me. How; no one knows."

The ancient leaned back in his chair and looked up at his wife. "And here we thought you would be a merry visitor." He laughed just the same. Her expression did not change. "Very well. Here is what I think; that mark on its arm was a brand from the army of Angmar. Soldiers, generals, doesn't matter; they all got one. So it was probably a wight"

That was along the lines Nag Kath had been thinking from Frodo's description and the men at the lake lodge. He ventured, "Perhaps without the Witch-King they are casting about for new employment?"

"Um hum. Beautiful wife, love of my life, you know waters."

Goldberry returned to her seat before saying, "It did not come up from water. I can only think a wight fell in the lake and transformed, thought what he was doing there is a mystery."

Tom said, "Yes, he would have stolen a body. Strange that the brand stayed with him."

Nag Kath fought the temptation to keep quiet and failed, "I should think the brand was more than a sign of ownership. It may have been a binding so the soldier could never be free, in this life or any to come."

Both of his hosts gave him another long look. Tom finally asked, "And how is it that you are righting wrongs?"

That earned them a Nag Kath grin, "Pure accident, so far, good sir." He became graver, "I know something of transformations. I was one of Saruman's orcs and became an Elf of old. What kind of Elf is unknown." He let that hang in case Tom or Goldberry had something to share. When they didn't, he continued, "I am very young by any counting, just three and thirty, but I have learned some healing and how to defend myself. King Elessar told me of disturbances in the area and I investigated on my way to Dale. With the Dark Lords gone, older, lesser powers are stirring. I wouldn't go so far as to call a wight-fish a power, but it seems to be an expression of lingering spells."

Bombadil said gleefully, "You are a puzzlement, my young friend! Now, let us speak no more of foulness. Tell me of the Halflings."

True to his wish, they spoke of pleasant things. Nag Kath did not know any of Tom's songs but he seemed to make them up anyway. Goldberry had a fair voice and was still almost drowned-out by Tom's lusty baritone. Nag Kath told them of the Elf-keepers who he thought to see soon and then they all retired.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath's rest was unusual that night. He seldom dreamed, not that he remembered in any event. Most nights, his thoughts slowly fell away leaving a core consciousness. Tonight he dreamt of longing but without remorse or obsession. It was simply the understanding of desire. That thread vanished, replaced by contact from far away. There was no sender or message, just that someone had called to him. The rest of the dream was spent trying to find the source in vain.

He woke strangely refreshed and later than the sun. After dressing and rinsing his face Nag Kath walked into the main room where Goldberry was weaving river reeds into a small basket. She had no trouble hearing the silent Elf and put her work down to return his bow. Unbidden she murmured, "You are a water spirit too, Nag Kath."

"So I am told My Lady. I can divine its nature by touch."

"That is unusual. Most men are of land or sky. Water is left to women. It moves and flows."

He said cautiously, "I am sorry to have brought unpleasant tidings to your happy house."

Goldberry giggled and soothed, "It was not a burden. Such things have long been here. We see them come and go. Tom attends his great gardens that provide for us. We endure." She said more gently, "Did you imagine me before? The picture?"

He had to think about that for a second. The sketch of Flor would be as close as the average artist of Middle-earth could get to Goldberry. He raised his eyebrows and answered, "Oh, no, she is my wife, or, was my wife. I lost her."

Goldberry was a picture of poise and grace, though that was not the answer she expected. Their home, mostly through Tom's influence, was near to the imaginings of Irmo, Vala of dreams and visions. She wondered if he had thought of her before coming. Most guests were visited by dreams beyond themselves, some of which had yet to happen. Some never did, but who can say the future?

Was this incipient wizard so reserved because she reminded him of a lost love? Elves are always reserved but he said he was of the society of men who are not known for subtlety. She would see how subtle, "Did you have a restful night, Nag Kath?"

"Indeed my lady. I woke refreshed."

She brightened, "Good. This is a peaceful home, though sometimes noises of the forest waken folk not used to deep woods."

Nag Kath caught her drift and said softly, "I was touched by desire, not for anything or anyone, just a sense of longing. I wondered if I would follow it or understand that I should not. It was replaced by the feeling that something was calling me from afar. I could not find who or where. It was not a voice or tongue known to me."

So he was subtle, odd in someone so young. There were older humors in this one. "My Tom is gathering things for our breakfast. Must you leave soon?"

"I have no schedule at all, My Lady. If breaking our fast is as joyous as dinner, I am pleased to share it."

~o~

As if waiting for his cue, Tom Bombadil was heard outside singing a rambling song. Not for the first time, Nag Kath thought those might be spells or wards to keep unruly beasts and plants, or who knows what, in their natural order. The man entered the back door and left a basket of berries by the basin. Then he walked to the table and landed with a thump in his same seat. Tom was not a chin-pincher because it was defended by a massive beard so he tugged at strands of that in thought before saying, "Good morning, Nag Kath! I hope you had a pleasant sleep."

He said he did. Goldberry looked at her man. Everything else they needed to say was done through thought. Then she rose to wash the berries and warm loaves with butter while Tom and Nag Kath went out the back door. Tom split some kindling for their next fire and the Elf walked over to the stable for a look at Charlo. The horse was comfortable next to a pony sized just right for his owner, a well fed critter to be sure.

Returning to the house together, Nag Kath asked, "Tom, do you know Radagast?"

"Does not ring a bell, a ding a dell!"

"You might know him as Aiwendil, Bird Friend."

Tom grinned, "Oh yes. Brown fellow, bout my height. I've not seen him in ages."

The Elf kept on that line, "You seem very like him, tending for forests and creatures in them. He is busy restoring damage in Mirkwood after Sauron's mischief."

Tom said lightly, "You are probably right, though he is sent there and I am simply here."

Nag Kath said tenderly, "Then I hope you always are. If I visit every so often, perhaps I will learn your songs better."

As a parting gift, Nag Kath drew a picture of Tom and Goldberry sitting together in thought. It was not posed. It was just how he remembered the interplay of their faces. Both declared it the finest gift ever and he would make a proper frame for it ere the day was out!

~o~

Riding back to the East Road, Nag Kath wondered what he had learned. He felt stronger, as if the power of the couple had touched him unintentionally. No, that wasn't it. It was more of an awareness – power in another form. Meeting immortals would get rarer as the Elves left for the Undying Lands. He would not get many more chances to view the world that way. As he laid-bare to Goldberry, he had yet to reconcile himself to love with those who could not follow.

In wrapping a bow around this package, he thought the essential lesson was Tom saying that he was simply here. Was that how it must be? Did the merry soul now know so much about this small place that there was no room for the larger world? As a couple, they were like moderately well-to-do retirees still possessed of energy to enjoy themselves. It just lasted for thousands of years. He wished them well.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Bree is a market hub. It was almost the size of Trum Dreng though not as pretty or welcoming. That might just be that the streets were so narrow. Arriving in late-afternoon, the place was teeming with vendors and merchants and a few travelers using the last of the light. There were a fair number of Hobbits, though the quality of their clothes varied more than in the Shire. He saw several companies of Dwarves keeping to their own affairs.

A prosperous-looking inn on the high street had its own stable so he took a room for the night. Charlo would get a few carrots with his oats. Dinner, if he chose to eat it, was still a while away so Nag Kath wandered along the high street to see if there were herb or healing shops. He did not need anything but was always prepared to be surprised.

He also tried something new. The inn was nice enough but he had cash and a few other things he wanted to keep. Nag Kath placed what he hoped was a confusion spell over his bag. The witches had done that directly to people with considerable success. Mrs. Hürna showed him how but he had not tried it on a person. Could objects be warded with confusion? He wanted anyone who got close to his things forget why they were there. There would be no knowing if it worked without testing it on an unsuspecting fellow but it seemed worthwhile in this rough town.

There wasn't much to see. Dinner wasn't bad. Taking a stroll afterwards he heard familiar music. In an open square the next block over a theater troupe was performing a Catanard. He remembered little of his first, enjoyed as an escaped prisoner, but later shows always had the same theme; a local boy and girl, hopelessly in love but not very smart, are separated by evil uncles. Each area wrote-in their own fresh gossip poking fun at local luminaries. The cast were all townsmen or women. The villains were shown the error of their ways without bloodshed and the young people would soon be married with optimistic leering from the crowd in anticipation of their nuptial night.

Nag Kath stayed until the end at a table with local folk. They left and the bench refilled with the baritone villain and his friends who had been standing closer to the stage. Verdand Vixtrous was a leather merchant during the day. The fellow and his friends were in good spirits after his standout performance. He guzzled the regional tan ale in-between wiping his face-paint off with a towel.

A tall, skinny man called out, "Say, VV, you scared the widow-ladies silly!"

Triumphant VV roared, "It is the part. We bad 'uns always get the best lines!"

Two women joined them, each carrying a full pitcher and topped off their company's mugs before sitting. One lady cooed, "Oh darling, I am glad you are a nicer man than you play. Do not get any ideas, now!"

He kissed her to laughs and slurps round the table. Eyes fell on Nag Kath. One of the audience apologized, "Forgive us, young man. We have invaded your table and run riot. Fortunately, this is only performed once a year."

Nag Kath offered his un-Elvish grin and retorted, "Pray do not worry, kind sir. I enjoyed the performance and offer a toast to your triumph!"

The second tenor asked, "Have you seen Catanard before?"

"Indeed I have. Twice in Minas Tirith, though I was very young the first time. And in Dol Amroth there are good singers who entertain in taverns using the same songs."

The baritone announced to every table nearby, "We have us a patron! Up here in the hinterlands folk do not know this music but in the last few years, it has grown popular. I myself am from Anfalas, where every lad woos his sweetheart with the gentle Trevalid!"

Nag Kath raised his mug again and cried, "Then you are well-schooled, my friend. I am especially fond of the Freron when Juvash is sure his love is lost." In truth, it was because a sultry version of that was often used in private dancing clubs with delights to follow. His tablemates did not need to know that to proclaim Nag Kath an all-round promising young man and never let his mug get less than half full.

~o~

Commerce would come with dawn so the players wished each other well and Nag Kath returned to his inn. As he stepped on the porch, a dazed fellow wandered out the tavern door and bumped into him. Neither was knocked down and a discreet pat on his pocket said his purse was still there. Nag Kath apologized and waited for his key at the desk while the innkeeper carried empty mugs back to the kitchen.

The fellow was florid after bustling to and fro. To make conversation, Nag Kath said, "Seems the poor man just leaving had a few."

The innkeeper said, "No one's left from the bar in a while. Here's your key, sir."

Upstairs, the hair he pasted with spit between his door and the jamb was missing. Nag Kath turned the lock quietly and looked about the room in just quarter-moonlight. He was alone. Lighting a candle, all was where he left it. He would remember that spell.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Rivendell was a hundred and twenty leagues away. Traveling lightly on a good horse he made the River Hoarwell in eleven days, including waiting under shelter for a day watching a hailstorm. A few days later he reached the north road of the Angle he had taken fighting his way up the Greyflood. Nag Kath didn't look this time but there was still a well-worn trail to Bilbo's trolls.

Eighteen days from Bree he led Charlo to the secret passages into the Imladris Valley. The horse was not as comfortable on the ledges as Regalid. Gladly on wider ground, Nag Kath tied him to the post in front of Elrond's former quarters and climbed the stairs to the library. If there were any Elves here, they were laying low. He checked a few book spines recalled from nine years ago and went out the back looking for keepers.

They were not in plain sight either. Barging into their quarters he saw one couple he remembered as the Grellars and greeted them. In their fashion, Mr. Grellar uttered a high-pitched nasal, "Hmmmmm. Good day. Can't say I remember you."

"I am Nag Kath and I was here nine years ago. Logass will stand for me."

"Oh yes, Orc Six! Logass is back in Lorien, or is it Gondolin? Just two Elf-keepers here now, and our wives, of course."

Nag Kath tried to salvage the situation, "I hope we will still sing songs and tales of old. I knew a few more."

"Hmmmmm, I suppose so. Mrs. Grellar will see to your rooms. He nodded to the plump, hook-nosed gnome watching from the kitchen. She came out and said, "It is nice to see you again, Mr. Six. If you will come with me."

This time he stayed in Elvish quarters. It was still nice and would have been exquisite before folk stopped waxing the woodwork. High summer felt like fall for all the leaves trapped in windless walks and nooks.

Mrs. Grellar was chattier than her husband. He gleaned from her that they had not seen any Elves in seven years. Travelers before that were headed for the Grey Havens after snuffing out the candles in Lorien. Nag Kath didn't mind sleeping in a full-sized bed but he didn't want to be fed alone so he insinuated himself into the evening meal by saying, "Is dinner served in your hall at the usual time, Mrs. Grellar?"

"Why yes, Mr. Six. We are having trout tonight."

Charlo had already been taken to the stable. His bags were leaning against the hitch post. Nag Kath fetched them back up to the library and claimed two tables for his studies. He calculated it would take two weeks to leisurely reread what he failed to grasp of magic and healing last time. There was no time like the present so he started with the creation of the orcs.

Meals were more sedate. Grellar was considered a boring storyteller, even among the Elf-keepers. Houk was better but only knew a few. Their women did not participate. With Nag Kath present, the four keepers made a good show but evidently, the Elf had caught high-season for lore the last time. No other Elves arrived. He covered the ground sooner than expected and was headed for the High Pass in ten days with a few pounds of real Lembas.

~o~

In Rosghobel, Nag Kath waited in the same clearing for a week to see if Radagast might appear. He did not. Nat Kath did not get a sense of his presence either. That sense was better honed than last time. The Forest Road continued to improve with use but the Elf trail would have still been invisible but for remembering a large rock forty paces from the turn.

One approached the Elven Halls noisily. Charlo was a fairly loud horse but Nag Kath removed some of the padding from his tack for extra jingling. Sure enough, a pair of the brown and green-clad dark Elves walked in front of him in a clearing with another pair nocking their arrows in the brush. The taller of the two said in Silvan, "What business brings you here, friend?"

In Sindarin Nag Kath called, "Forgive me, brother. I do not know the local tongue. I have come to pay my respects to Fearnold and other friends in these lands."

"You appear to know the way," this time said in Sindarin. "We will escort you."

They traveled another hour to the great halls with few words exchanged. His guard walked him to the doors after tying Charlo and spoke with the interior guard. That fellow nodded and gestured for Nag Kath to follow.

The place hadn't changed. The Sylvan Elves preferred life outdoors. There were still offices and storerooms here but this was not a hive of courtly activity like in the days of Thranduil. His ohtar told him to stay in a corridor and returned shortly with Fearnold. The chiseled Elf smiled and said, "Welcome back, Nag Kath. I thought you might have taken the ship."

"Too crowded, Lord Fearnold. I like elbow room."

"I was of the same view." The Elf Lord led him into the central lobby which still had plenty of folks busy preparing for whatever was next. Fearnold asked, "Are you staying long?"

"Nay, sir. Just to say hello and take the short-cut around the Great River."

"There is plenty of room in the west wing. Join us for dinner and share tidings of the wider world." The meal was pleasant. Nag Kath spoke of Rivendell and asked if Lorien was empty as well. Not at all! Sylvan Elves had stayed there too. It being so close, they met occasionally. Both were Moriquendi bloodlines and their purpose was very much the same.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~