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

27. Chapter 27 Scars of Love

Chapter 27

Scars of Love

~o~

They were on their way after Carstor's second hip therapy. The Urbans were staying a few more days. Of all the many offers to return Nag Kath had received over the years, he would definitely remember this one. On top of the excellent company, he had his book and the Carstors had the second picture.

Last night's dinner gave Uncle Nag food for thought. He was traveling with a healthy young man of considerable station. He did not know if Reyald or Ardatha had thoroughly explained how complicated that could get when it came to females. A country boy; Shurran knew the basics. It would be a long ride home so Nag Kath just asked, "Shur, did you take them seriously about a lady-friend?"

"Sure. I might not wait as long as cousin Bain, but I am in no hurry."

Without taking his eyes off the road the Elf continued, "I was thinking more of the meantime."

Shurran cracked a large grin and said, "I've considered that too. To be honest, Nag, I don't meet a lot of women who think in those terms. They want to be wives, or mistresses at the very least. And Dale is a small place compared to the White City. Everyone knows everyone's business."

Nag Kath offered, "My own love life has had ups and downs but I learned a thing or two. If you want to talk without a lecture, let me know."

"Thank you. There is other meantime business too. I have tried not to look like an anxious heir. I think the less said about that the better."

"I noticed. No need to ask for a tour of the counting-room. I would have warned you against any of those arranged marriages looking too much like an alliance but you seem to have that in hand. Twas good you went with me to the orcs, though. A man of Dale is a soldier of Dale and that may count for something years hence. Have you seen Queen Delatha?"

Shurran replied, "Not since I was a child. She and mother get along well, being lasses of the Buhr."

"That is an exception I would make in your royal education. Without being too obvious, try to sit with her. Her experience is vast and she is a lovely woman. She will appreciate your situation."

Shurran asked a wise question for someone so young, "Should you be there?"

"I think not, unless it just happens that way. I have been of great use to the family but they have never known quite what to do with me. Old Uncle Nag is a dangerous fellow, making him a servant of last resort. I keep that quiet. Of course, that makes me handy to be near you. Have wine with Rosscranith too. I can arrange that innocently.'

Nag Kath thought a few moments and said more gravely, "We learned a few things this weekend. One is that you are probably an excellent successor to be waiting in the wings. You do not have the political contacts to organize a coup of your own or obvious ambitions, a bit like your cousin Dev that way. Without embarrassing you, you are a good age, size and temperament for the job, like Brand without the pigeon dougsh.

"Carstors will certainly abdicate to you should he outlive King Bain so you need to think of yourself as next-in-line. I should think to stay for Bain's wedding and make a life in Minas Tirith as if you might never get the sealed letter. Chose friends carefully, which you already do, and let your da know if anyone takes untoward interest. He has a horse in the race. So does your little cousin in Austar."

Changing the subject completely, Shurran said, "I think I know who thumped you for Eniecia's affections, poor Uncle Nag."

The changeling smiled before guessing, "Cal? And we had her dance with the man! Aye, I wouldn't doubt Talereth had a hand in that. Your sister is too young but in a few years that would be Tal's best match ever. Stay close to him. He will matter in this world of men. You will too."

Shurran wondered that Uncle Nag did not include himself. Was he already other than of the world of men? The last wizards were, thought that was by design. It sounded like they both needed a woman.

~o~

The coming of winter meant Syndolan. Nag Kath organized his party in the usual style. Lorens Brightens did not have children but Lotold had three and they were now adults, even by Hobbit lifespans.

The Elf's Dwarvish friends showed no signs that his disfavor with Thorin affected their outlook. The old King might not want that widely known after Nag Kath's recognized service to his halls. Erebor had too much gold and it had been lain-on by the worst of all dragons for nearly two centuries. Nag Kath did not know if the sickness could infect the metal itself but it seemed both Thorins had that malady.

One overdue chore was replacing his old bow. They look good forever hanging over a mantle but a bow is a living weapon and does not last forever. They best bowyer in the city now was Tunverid who had apprenticed with Fridth before opening his own shop. The man recognized the craft of the weapon Nag Kath brought with him. This one had history too. Men who make these watch their babies.

He looked down his spectacles at the wood and said, "This one still has life but you are right to come. With a Dun Breathen or Dun Aouwen pull, one day it will snap in your face. You are in luck, Lord Kath …"

"Just Nag Kath."

"I have one half done for a man who realized he had no business trying to draw it. Here, have a look." He brought back a weapon with the wood already curved but without the center assembly. It was fine work.

Nag Kath gave it a quick inspection and said, "This will be excellent."

"I can have it ready in a week. How are you set for arrows?"

~o~

When Nag Kath thought of arrows in Dale, he thought of Burry. The Elf went by his house after seeing the bowyer and caught the Sergeant returning home after helping his oldest boy repair a broken chimney grate. He was clean enough that the Elf suspected a supervisory role. "Oh, hey Nag! Heard about the fish."

"It went well, old friend. Orcs are easy to bribe. We threw in half a pig to sweeten the deal."

"You'll spoil them. Why the bow and no arrows?"

Nag Kath looked at his reliable weapon and said, "I saw Tunverid for another. This one has seen thirty years of mud, rain and trouble. Made a few good shots with it, though." He handed it to his teacher.

"Yes, I remember this well. If you can stand to part with it, Corporal Danthor needs one with this flex but can't afford it."

"Give it to him then. I won't need it before the new bow is done." He looked at it in his teacher's hand with reverence, "If it could talk ... How is your flock?"

"Four grandkids now. All boys. Lola is nanny oftentimes. Oh, Al Dedlan died. You remember him from archery? Dead a year but I just heard."

"He got his time in then. I remember him ready to throw me out of his tent when I came to learn."

Burry smiled, "Aye, got me a good smack in the tenders too. Are you back for a while?"

"Through the winter and the King's wedding. Shurran is staying too and his folk from the Buhr will certainly come. Old Conath died so Torrold is Thain now. He is a good man. But sooner than that, Lola will need her dancing shoes!"

~o~

Rosscranith was his usual self. The big Northman, even bigger in fur-lined robes, saw Nag Kath as soon as he presented himself. The Elf asked, "Any word from Frór?"

"Haven't seen him, which is odd since he is as close as we have to an ambassador. The King under the Mountain hasn't left it since Bards' funeral. Other friends have said Thorin is seething. Our local Dwarves don't seem the worse for it."

Nag Kath mused, "Makes you wonder how many of those rings survived. If that was Thror's ring I melted, I'll have to be immortal to outlive their wrath." More seriously, "Davet, if you need to put distance between Dale and me to stay in their good graces, do it. I can be the orc from Orthanc again. Your people needed those walls and might still."

Rosscranith shook his head, "It is not you. Thorin has the sickness. He was Ambassador here before the war and a good friend but with the crown he became a poor neighbor. They don't buy as much food as they used to, or ale, because he can't stand to pay any of that mountain of gold for his people's sweat. Thank you for your offer, but Bain would never agree. He is a better sort of King. Are you still staying for the wedding?"

Nag Kath brightened, "Wouldn't miss it. After that, Shurran and I are back to Gondor. Since I am in your good graces, you need to come to my Syndolan party this year!"

"I am getting too old for such entertainments. Those are for younger people, if you can drag them away from the pleasure houses."

Those had always been here but it was unusual for the King's minister to mention it. Rosscranith belonged to the age when men married early and only used such places for what they did not enjoy at home … or special appetites. Nag Kath played the innocent, perhaps this was an opportunity to further Shurran's education, "That is news to me, not blessed unions I should think."

"Aye, and not putting future soldiers to suck either." The big Northman laughed, "And it is all your fault! With exotic females from the east, lads aren't driven to the marriage bed. Still, I suppose it is better than spearmen on hairy horses."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath said hello to everyone but spent most of his time making sense of Elrond's notes. A few medicine and spell combinations were left as-written. Some had corrections but were not reentered. About half of the book was abandoned. Of that; half was substantially altered and rewritten on pages in the back. The other half must have gone to a sister volume now lost. He parsed through the discarded text just the same since it was considerably better than nothing. A lot seemed to be from much older text in Quenya so he could copy it but not understand it.

It took the better part of a week to create a working copy in his own hand, much of that time spent looking-up words he had never seen before or making learned guesses. This was a different sort of conjuring than the wizards used. He did not know how to summon the humors. It would be a long time before he could use any of this but he was that much closer. Nag Kath would ask Lady Arwen at her convenience and rummage through the usual Elvish places on the way south.

Shurran used his time seeing his friends and paying a visit to cousin Lilac. The Carstors had a very nice house "upstairs". Since the Conath home was only a hundred paces away, he had no trouble dropping by, ostensibly delivering a letter from sister Lillith that probably detailed some scheme to marry him into society. Not the usual delivery man, the maid showed him in and took the envelope to her mistress.

Lilac Iömendel looked just like her older sister but a shade shorter with dark brown eyes. She was a half-niece or half first-cousin once-removed, not that it mattered. Shurran knew she was twenty three with a small daughter who came running in a few steps behind her. He bowed and she did the same. The child never stopped.

Lilac smiled and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, cousin Shurran." She showed him to a comfortable couch in the great room. The girl followed shrieking in fun from a previous game. Her mother looked at the maid who clapped her hands with a face of delight saying, "Who wants a cookie?" That removed the lass as fast as feet could move for however long it would take to enjoy her treat.

Shurran said, "I apologize for coming unannounced. My family home is just on Vue Sorotten. I can return at a better time."

She giggled and said, "Nay cousin Shurran, or is it Uncle? It is always madness before her nap. I'll see if I can't manage proper introductions before you go. How are father and mother?"

"Both well. We had an enjoyable weekend with your family and the Urbans as well."

"Forgive my woeful family knowledge but you are from the Buhrs, yes?"

"Austar, but father has been posted in Minas Tirith these last three years. The family came for the wedding in Rohan and we continued up."

Shurran was right that the letter he delivered told he was single so when he said 'we' twice, she asked, "You do not journey alone then?"

"No, I am with my grandfather. By a strange twist of fate, I had four of them, thought he is the last one left now."

Trained to be perfectly polite, Lilac complimented him, "How nice it is that you spend time with him at an age when travel becomes slower."

Shurran wasn't sure how much he wanted to explain Uncle Nag so he just said, "He still moves at a fairly good pace, cousin Lilac. If I don't miss my guess, he is organizing his Syndolan party as we speak. I will make sure you and your husband are invited." The lad had to stifle a laugh. At least the Elf was out of firework powders and couldn't incinerate the wharf.

"Then I hope to meet him. My husband is away just now but we must have you to dinner when he returns. Will you be here long, cousin Shurran?"

"Please, just Shurran. I should be here at least until His Lordship's wedding."

New squealing sounded from the kitchen. Shurran was sure this was not convenient so he asked to be excused for other business and was shown the door. Walking back to the house he realized he knew nothing about her husband.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

He didn't hear back from Lilac. Oh well, one should not be hasty embracing long-lost relatives. A month later it was time to prepare for the end of the year party. As Nag said, many old friends brought their grown children, or the children were coming and the old friends were watching the grandkids. It did not matter. Uncle Nag knew how to throw a party.

Brenen and Bard came with most of their children. At one time there were as many as five Hobbits. Several of Master Golord's kin arrived early for the singing. Dwarves love to sing. It was said they knew how to play the echoes in their grand halls. A wine merchant militia man from Dorwinion insisted in bringing a small cask of the finest to go with two barrels of the local tan. The musicians were newly together but had long separate experience with the songs.

In the relative lull between the early and late-comers, a tall fellow of decidedly military bearing escorted two women inside wearing hooded cloaks against the cold. He hung those on the pegs revealing very attractive ladies of an age with Bard and Brenen's brood. One looked familiar. Nag Kath was wrestling with a finger-food table someone sat on and broke the leg. His usual greeting would have to wait a minute.

That job was filled by Shurran who spoke with them and then approached the table, now propped on the first ale keg. "May I present Lilac Iömendel and Graciel Iömendel. Ladies, this is my grandfather, Nag Kath."

Grandfather?! Everyone had heard Nag Kath stories, even if they were likely complete fantasy. The women had heard fewer of them since they did not frequent public houses, but even so, the strange Elf was known. For his part, he bowed and said, "Welcome to our celebration. Is that Lilac, daughter of Lord Carstors?"

"It is, Lord Kath." He would lose the lord another time.

"Well, I hope you can sing because we seem to have lost our Hobbits." He looked around the room for short guests and saw Bard approaching. The handsome Northman gave the other woman a kiss on the cheek and said, "Hello Graciel. You just missed Bart. Renelda is still here." He used his height to spot Brenen's daughter and waved her over for more cheek kisses.

Graciel was probably in her mid-twenties, so of an age with the next generation here. She had very long light brown hair and gray eyes. The attractive woman smiled and said, "Everyone, this is Lilac. Ren, how do you know our host?"

Renelda, Nag Kath had to remember not to call her Bugs, said, "He is my grandfather."

The grand-da asked, "On the subject Ren, where are your ma and da?"

"They left to watch my bairns. I'll just collect Gemmi and wake them up. Night, Uncle Nag." He got a kiss too.

Lilac gave a sly smile and said, "You seem grandfather to Dale."

"Most of them are here, except for Shur's two sisters. Shurran's grandmother and I were married for many years." He looked at Graciel as if to ask her relationship. Lilac caught that before it hit the floor, "Grace is my sister-in-law." Both women wore rings of matrimony.

Bard added, "And grew up with ours. Her da had the chandlers' concession in the Featherlight district." Nag Kath knew Lilac was raised at the lovely estate he just visited so she was fairly new to Dale.

Graciel smiled at Bard and said, "I am sorry to have missed Bart."

I will tell him, but Ros is just …" he looked around the room; " … talking with Mrs. Hinnith, I think. Come, let us say hello." As the women followed him towards the kitchen, Nag Kath looked at Shurran and asked, "Husbands?"

"Lilac said hers is away." Most family not here in Dale were somewhere else for a while since a bad winter would keep all but the most determined travelers safe by their fires. Their escort was still standing by the door surveying the crowd. Nag Kath took him a mug of tea since he was on duty and said if any of the finger-foods went missing, no one would mind. The first wave was the rowdy one this night and everyone was gone by the twelve-bell. One of Bard's cleaning crews would be here in the morning to assess the damage.

Whenever he drank more than a single beverage, Nag Kath might sleep a little before his wakeful rest. Tonight he slept until he heard Bard's folk 'screeing' furniture across the floor downstairs. The cook/housekeeper this year was Fern and she was preparing porridge and eggs as usual. Shurran was already up with his face over a steaming mug of strong tea. He did not drink much either but might have had an extra cup or two of that Dorwinion.

~o~

The Elf walked downstairs barefoot and sat next to him. Fern brought him tea and retreated back to the fire. Tea was not so hot that he couldn't take a long pull before saying, "Your cousin looks a lot like her sister. Did you say she has one babe?"

"Aye; a cute little girl with an ear-piercing squeal. They live in a grand house. Don't know anything about her man. It seems her friend knows your other family."

"That helps at gatherings. I left here twelve years ago so those your age had not come into their own. I have gotten to know them, but a little less each generation. If they are wedded sisters-in-law, they must be married to brothers. Sorry Shur, not a lot of single women last night."

Shurran took a long draught and smiled, "A few. Well; four months until Bain and Xondra wed. Will you be busy with your book?"

"Some, it uses healing I do not understand. Perhaps there is a scholar here who can help me with the Quenya. I will have to ask better questions on our way back to Gondor. There are a few more people left to see in town, and I need to learn that new bow ... Now, what about you, young man?"

"I thought to make myself useful at the city works office and spend time in the jewelry shop of Gerrulth. I was a bit surprised to see my cousin here after not hearing for a month. Their minder was an imposing fellow."

Nag Kath held his chin and said, "From Arnor, I'll wager. He would be watching Lilac if the other girl is from the Featherlight. It is a respectable neighborhood, but not overstocked with bodyguards."

~o~

Two days after the party, a week-long blizzard arrived from the northwest burying Dale under two feet of snow. That was followed by enough warm weather to melt it slightly followed by bitter cold so the streets were covered in ice until late January. When that finally cleared the weather warmed enough for Nag Kath and Shurran to chance visiting Mrs. Borrene in Lake Town. It was only nineteen miles away and on good horses with a clear road it was a two hour ride.

She was right. The cane was leaning against the door jamb. She still moved slowly but could get around her home comfortably and had an unending stream of friends to fill the time. They stayed two days and barely made it back to Dale before another blizzard arrived.

This one cleared more quickly thanks to a lot of warmer rain. Weather like this above Osgiliath caused fevers. That could happen here too but the drainage was much better into the River Running. On the first dry night, Nag Kath went to a soldier's pub two blocks down for a pint and pie. Three men from his old militia unit were fleeing two weeks of their wives' constant company. If he was interested, they said a master swordsman of Arnor was staying the winter and taught classes on his technique. Nag Kath had heard of these fellows before. They practiced very deliberately, the idea being that slow perfection could be brought up to speed without wasted motion. There was an element of mindfulness as well; perhaps something like Nag Kath's waking rest. The next class was two days hence at the officer's mess hall on the ten-bell.

It sounded interesting. Variags also had such disciplines and they were practiced at Hanvas Tûr by right-living folk, and not necessarily warriors. The slow, precise movements were said to bring focus to keep men from thinking of too many things at once. Nag Kath did not have time to participate then but he did watch them. In Khand that was done outside. In freezing Dale, space was reserved on Thursday mornings in the smaller officer's mess near the Erebor gate. Not sure what to expect, the Elf brought both his Elvish blade and a wooden beater. He thought about bringing the Rohirric weapon but only polished it and put it back in the case.

The ten-bell found eight men waiting in the mess hall close to the stove. Ages ranged from sixteen to perhaps thirty-six. The quality of their cloth varied too. Several women and children were sitting on one of the table benches that had been pushed against the wall. These students had already been to the first two lessons and were limbering muscles but not saying much. Nag Kath did not recognize any of them and they didn't seem to know him. His hair finally covered his ears, even if he still looked like a Puklak pony.

The instructor arrived right on time with a grim nod and looked for a moment at his new student. Nag Kath put him at nearly fifty with hair and beard more white than dark. If he was from Arnor, he wasn't of the tall, northern folk but he looked fit and moved like a cat. The man walked over without introduction and said lessons were ten groats or six for a silver. The Elf pulled a silver from his vest and handed it to him wordlessly. Names could wait.

So could preliminaries, it seemed. The man growled in the language of sergeants everywhere for the men to take one of the beater swords from a bag in the corner. Nag Kath pulled his since he knew the weight. The instructor told them to assume the neutral position from last week with the dominant foot back and sword held at the ready from the center of the body to as far as the sword armpit. The Elf could use either side but generally worked right-handed since most people did.

As the students held their pose, the man walked among them to adjust elbows, knees, foot spacing and sword angles. Two looked like they had never held the weapon before. They were more-or-less in the right position but their muscles were frozen in place. The fellow did this for a living so he softened from the pure drill sergeant telling them to hold the pose with as little effort as possible. Burry would have done the same against needing them fit when the Lings came over the wall. When he got to Nag Kath at the end of the line, he pushed the sword to either side and said, "Hummph."

"Aw right!" All sergeants say that too. "The reason to hold the weapon in this position is not so you can leave it there. It is here so you can raise, parry or slash quickly. Sometimes you will go in already decided but we are talking about individual combat with an unknown foe. He may make a mistake and you will only get one chance. This week we will work on the raised defense. In the best of worlds you would be moving forward but that is not always possible. First I will show you the move and then we will slow by breath." The man put his right foot forward and then rapidly drew back a step as he gripped the sword with two hands and raised it parallel to the ground forward and over his head. That was the whole motion.

He did it several more times at speed to show the start and ending and then brought his feet together to explain, "Aw right. Now I will do this in steps. If ever you can, you want to be breathing in on the motion because you want to exhale for the strike. That is not always possible and you can't give your opponent an opening gasping for air at the wrong time. The man repeated his motion ten times slower starting with the inhale. "Aw right, you do it."

Students gave themselves space enough and started waving their beaters around much too fast. One student who looked like he had swung the sword for real and Nag Kath were as slow and deliberate as the master with their legs ready for the forward thrust. The man looked at them and then started taking the other five through it again. They all did the same move about twenty times until everyone showed some fluidity in motion.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Doing something that slowly taxes the muscles. In olden lore, tales of heroes fighting for hours make the legend entertaining but in a real sword-fight, even hardened veterans lose speed in fifteen minutes. They can still rely on power and stamina but they will not be as fast when the muscles are howling and the blood rush of the first attack is spent. The instructor walked over to Nag Kath and said, "Show me."

The Elf repeated the motion with a minimum of effort and held the raised position. The man walked around him shaking his back knee and pushing his thumb into the both sides of his back thigh. A quick nod was approval and then he was back to the greenbottoms who were holding their pose with great effort. Seeing they were tired, the man said, "Break. Good work. Loosen those limbs and we will try again shortly."

As the men straggled over to a water jug, Nag Kath tried one more move and followed behind. The instructor walked over and said, I'm Khellandar, Kurd Khellandar. You've swung a sword before or I'm a fool."

The Elf reached his hand saying, "Nag Kath. Swung one many times."

"Kath … Kath of Dorwinion?"

"The same."

Khellandar said cannily, "You're not here for militia practice."

"Nay, I've always relied more on speed than technique. My footwork needs attention."

"Hummmph."

A few minutes later the men were threatening the mess hall again. Khellandar took them through a more offensive version of moving the lead foot forward rather than the power foot back until he thought arms might fall off. Then with high praise he dismissed everyone one until next Thursday. The trainer was not the sort for ale at lunch. He collected a woman about his age from the viewers and walked out.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Next week's sword practice only had seven of the last week's eight but both greenbottoms were smiling and ready. Khellandar had arrived early to work with another man individually and he took his place in the line at the ten-bell. This lesson built on the last by adding a downward slash. For a right-hand attack against a right-handed foe, getting there first was of the moment. The Arnoran was less pedantic today with fewer repetitions, concentrating on breathing correctly for the stroke.

Nag Kath and the other soldier did well and the others improved. Students were expected to practice during the week and they had. By the eleven half-bell everyone was tired but that much more capable. The sixteen year-old's father was on the bench this time and clapped him on the shoulder before going home.

The Elf's third week started about the same as the first two except from the basic position they would work on the parry. Again, epic campfire stories are replete with the good and bad wading in for what seems like individual combat. In a melee, you look for gaps in the back of enemy armor and finish men or orcs when they are down. When your mate is cleaning-up, you have to watch their back. Either way, you may have to buy time.

"Aw right. From neutral you need to block an incoming blow. Maybe you can deflect it but you have to slow it, and better with your sword than your face." Khellandar went through a series of three defensive two handed positions; one high to protect from an overhead slash, one center for the chest and face and another if someone tries to hamstring you.

These motions were designed for use with the long infantry sword of Gondor and Arnor, the same weapon King Elessar carried. Straight and double-edged, they had a large hilt guard designed to stop a sword slash that ran down the blade towards the wrists. Nag Kath's Elvish and Rohirric swords were essentially cavalry weapons without pronounced guards. He would have to flick an enemy weapon away in the motion, not that it mattered much at his real speed. Khellandar only used the wooden beaters in his class. There may be more advance training elsewhere, but he wanted everyone's ears kept on the sides of their heads.

~o~

Two women joined the viewers half into the class. Nag Kath only noticed them peripherally since this was eyes-forward training. Khellandar tested their positions. Warriors might have to use any of the parries without notice. The man came at them at something less than full speed to make them react. The wrong response only netted a mild tap. The man wanted students to recognize the most likely point of attack. "Now listen, I am not being fair because how you defend depends on your armor. With stout greaves, make sure your arms and body are protected first. If you carry long shields, block with those and thrust through the gaps."

He kept testing each student individually for the first actual contact Nag Kath had seen. Beaters are made of good oak, cut so the grain is parallel to the imaginary blade and often hardened by fire. They make a distinctive report for a telling strike. Even when fooled, he had no trouble blocking the tepid attacks.

Dismissed, Khellandar stayed with Nag Kath after the others collected their coats and viewers. "You parried low even after you flinched up to start. Take me through the rise and then the three defenses."

The Elf did so very slowly, concentrating on his breathing.

"Now; do it live."

Nag Kath did not use the fast but even his Elf speed was nearly a blur.

"Hummmph."

Läis Owans, one of the older men in the class was talking with the two women who arrived during drills as Nag Kath walked over to the water jug. As he got closer, he recognized Graciel Iömendel at the same time she saw him. The Elf bowed and said it was nice to see her again. Owans introduced his wife Bettild who had brought her friend to watch her heroic husband work up a sweat. It being just past elevenses, in Hobbit dining, they would get a meal at the Brave Navigator along the high street.

Seated, Nag Kath said, "He doesn't say much, does he?"

Läis agreed, "Khellandar? No, but it is easy to tell his meaning. Northmen are often of few words but men of Fornost make them seem blathering. Now what about you, Nag Kath? You don't need to be told anything twice."

"I was hoping to learn the very slow motions in perfecting the basics. In Khand, groups of our size or greater work in precision as warriors and to clear their minds for the task at hand." He chuckled, "I do not think our lot is there yet, but we get closer every week!"

Bettild said, "Khand? Was this a troop come here to parlay?"

"Nay, good lady. I was there to parlay, almost a year and a half all counted."

Graciel smiled sweetly and asked, "Was that of your grandfatherly chores?"

The Owans wondered about that so he quickly brought them up to speed with Shurran and Brenen. Bettild raised an eyebrow prompting the rest of the explanation.

He said, "I went through Rhûn to talk with both rulers about troubles to their west. That went well and I returned last year." No one mentioned the Celduin fight. That had been the talk of the season but seasons come and go. Lunch was tasty they said goodbye until next week.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Shurran stayed busy at the city office. The works architect had four projects for the new King, including a monument to Bard. Dale did not have sculptors experienced in that scale so it was taking a long time to decide on the stone and how to get it there. It was too bad Timalen was so far away. The city also had to repair one of the little aqueducts feeding the upper eastern levels of the city. Uncle Nag lent a hand.

At next week's sword practice, the Owans were not there but Graciel came by herself. Good looking single women seldom attended soldiers' training unescorted, but this was during the day in a public building. They worked on a series of movements more like the ones Nag Kath saw the Variags do. The northern version was less artistic than the near-dance of the east but moving to the flow of the group helped the individuals. Afterwards, Graciel approached and gleamed, "You must practice often."

"I do, the hard part is how to not need to think first and lose time in peril."

They left the building together in a light drizzle that became a torrent not forty feet from the building. Graciel flipped up her hood and said, "This way." They hurried another fifty paces and she unlocked a door leading to an upstairs apartment. The fire was nearly out so she hung her cloak on the door-peg and added kindling to build it back. She looked at his riot of wet hair and got him a towel from the bedroom. There were two small rooms with a glass window in each. Modestly furnished, it was clean and cheerful, or would be if rain wasn't blocking the sun. They sat close to each other to hear over the din.

For lack of something interesting to say he thanked her, "Fortunate you are here or I would have gotten a good wetting!"

"She looked at his wild hair and smiled before saying, "Just give me a minute." Graciel went to the stove and added larger pieces of wood from a bucket alongside and then put an iron kettle over the grate. While she was busy, he noticed the masculine elements of the main room. There was a sword hanging from a traditional wall mount, a man's coat next to hers and a weed-pipe on its stand next to a leaf canister on the kitchen table. He also noticed that Graciel's damp dress revealed a very attractive shape. She had offered him kind protection from the storm so he would mind his manners. Graciel walked to the window and looked up into the gray before sitting. "The tea will be a while."

"I do not mind. Thank you for thinking of it. I did not get details on Syndolan but you are Lilac's sister-in-law, right?"

"Yes, her husband and mine are brothers. She is from the lake and only married four years ago."

He paid her a compliment, "You cannot have been married much longer than that."

"Five years, well, five years in May."

"Does your husband work close by?"

Her face fell slightly. She collected herself and said, "His business often takes him away."

"With the winters of Dale, that can get you a freezing as well as a soaking, or tall waves sailing the Long Lake."

"Yes, I do worry sometimes. The lake is a harsh mistress." She looked at the kettle but no steam was showing yet. The fire was doing its job as the small rooms warmed enough for Nag Kath to remove his sweater and put it on a chair to dry.

There was tension building, a good tension. He said, "Shurran and I were recently in Lake Town. His great grandmother lives there as she always has, in her eighties and still quick of wit."

Glad of something safe to say, Graciel replied, "And you said you saw Lilac's people further south. I only know her from here. I confess; I do not travel much, Lord Kath."

He smiled and said, "I do not wear Lord well. Call me Nag Kath. May I call you Graciel?"

"Or Grace."

"Grace it is."

The kettle started rumbling. Grace grasped it with a large, padded mitt and poured two mugs through a wicker strainer. She returned to put them on the low table sitting as close as she had when it was raining harder. The young woman smiled and asked, "Are you part of the Kingly wedding in April?"

The tea was too hot to drink so he set his mug down and modestly said, "I will attend, but I have no part to play. Shur will be seated near the throne, probably with Lilac's da if he is here. I think Brenen is planning a party at his home."

"That is right! You know Bard and Bart. We lived close to them when I was small."

"Will you and Mr. Iömendel attend?"

This time she could not keep her pretty smile. Nag Kath's first instinct was that they were not invited and he had embarrassed her. This wound was deeper, much deeper. In barely a whisper she said, "I do not think Geordon will come."

His eyes had tricked him. He saw the sword and pipe and dry coat but not a stray shoe or clothes or smell of meals lovingly prepared for two. All he could say was, "Forgive me. I did not … "

"It is not your doing, Nag Kath." Her sweet smile returned, "Though, this is." She removed her own sweater, "I came to watch you move slowly this morning."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The neighbors probably didn't hear anything for the rain. He held her close in the small bed, her head on his shoulder as he looked at the ceiling. It had been a very long time, for both of them. She wasn't sleeping but was very still, a dozen thoughts unable to dislodge the feeling. He enjoyed a woman's fulfillment, the way they breathe, they way they radiate afterwards.

The rain had stopped, or slowed to dribbles off the roof tiles. Nag Kath rose and wandered over to the window. It would be about three now. He climbed back in bed and kissed her.

He wondered what happens now. She was not Flor; inexperienced and unsure how to take what she needed. Nor Eniece; just emerging into life after long healing. Grace seemed very close to Tal, the only difference being how they had been left alone. Kataleese? Whilmina? No, but the thought had him roll over for more affection.

They dressed for early dinner and found their way to a small restaurant she knew. No one there seemed to know her. He thought eating out might not be in her budget, or anyone else's in the neighborhood, since they had the room to themselves. This was probably a place for ale after work.

Grace was distracted, in the best of ways, and said, "I suppose I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything. I am curious though."

"I married the elder son of Vordon Iömendel. My father was a respected businessman of the quarter and it was a good match. Geordon is a handsome, charming man who understands a woman's heart, much as you do Lord Kath." She smiled having said that on purpose. "It wasn't until after we married that he discovered my father's partner owned most of the interest.

"Geordon drifted back to his first love, now a widow of independent means. She's thrown him out a couple times and he crawled back to me swearing undying love."

With genuine interest Nag Kath asked, "Why do you not divorce the man and have done with this?" He had forgotten he was not in Minas Tirith.

"Money. Father suspected the all too solicitous bounder so he left me his estate as a trust to be paid to me at thirty. The trouble is; I cannot gain it to pay for a divorce and as long as Geordon is still my husband, he can lay claim to it then. For now; I get a silver a month and I work in a shop two days a week. It is enough.

"Now, you seem very mysterious, grandfather of Dale."

"I am indeed. Here you see a wayward Elf allied with both Dale and Gondor. I am warrior, diplomat and healer, depending on who you ask. I confess; it had been some time since I held a woman close. That was wonderful."

"You seemed to remember most of it."

He chuckled, "Perhaps you can show me what I forgot?"

"Yes, I hope so"

He held his chin, usually reserved for momentous thoughts, "I have a few chores tomorrow but would you join me for dinner on Saturday?"

"You are not worried about being seen in the company of a married woman?"

Nag Kath showed the infamous grin, "It could only help my social standing."

"Shall we say six?"

He walked home without noticing the drizzle. Fern made fish, which Shurran largely devoured himself. On a different day, Nag Kath would have reminded him that Northmen and limitless food were not good company.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

When a man has been deeply satisfied, the men around him can tell, even in the absence of smells and complexion and occasional fingernail scratches, but they have to know that of themselves. Shurran didn't give that sense. The young man fiddled with a drawing of the water trough by lamplight without once betraying a hint of understanding. This was more a White City sensibility than the forest clans of Dale, but at nineteen, it seemed to Uncle Nag that Shurran needed to learn more than bearing-loads. What had Rosscranith said; eastern lovelies were in supply?

In the morning he strolled to the scholar's quarter. His two experts had passed on but one sign was promising so he knocked and waited until a crone opened the door and stared. Nag Kath suspected staring with those eyes did not yield much so he said, "I have to come to see if Master Leddifur reads Elvish languages."

She shook her head meaning either he didn't or she didn't know. Closing the door without a word, it was reopened by a man of about forty who had not understood his mother's account. Nag Kath took the lead, "Good morning, sir. I came to see if you read Quenya or can recommend someone who can."

He shook his head too, saying only, "Your best chance is with Scholar Welshorn. He has a little Sindarin. That is as close as I can get you. Third door on the other side of the street."

Welshorn, it sounded like a Hobbit name, was having a late breakfast before visiting his students for tutoring. He was sixty at least so of an age when there were still Elves here. The man was dressed to leave but listened patiently as Nag Kath explained.

After thinking a moment he said, I know a little Quenya, or I did. What do you need?"

"I need you to do some translating, sir. I should like to retain you to help me decipher an old text that has come my way. That would include your normal charge and expenses."

Scholar Welshorn did not get a lot of cash offers. Nag Kath gave him a card and the man said he would come by after his two-bell student.

Welshorn arrived just before the four-bell. He puffed to the door and Fern let him in. The man carried a satchel like Nag Kath's and looked around the main room before the Elf walked down the stairs to shake hands and show him to a chair at the table. Welshorn waited as the blonde man presented an old book with no outer markings. Nag Kath flipped through several pages before turning the book so the scholar could see. Then he said, "I came by this recently. I can read the Sindolan, not the Quenya. Some of the words are the same but I have no context."

The scholar was at home with old books. He glanced through most of it and returned to the page his benefactor showed him. Without saying a word, he rummaged through his sack and produced his own notebook. Finally he said, "I do not mean to cheat you, Mr. Kath. What little I knew of that tongue is hidden in the recesses of my poor mind. In the days of Elves, I made these pages that gave Quenya words along with the Sindarin or Westron equivalent. The structure is the issue. It may take me quite a while to make sense of this, if I ever do."

Nag Kath considered that for a minute and said, "That is the best offer I have gotten." He slid his own notebook over to the scholar and said, "This is what I have made of it and I believe the Quenya is fairly rendered." Then he slid a nipper alongside saying, "Take as long as you need."

The scholar's only problem was how to make change on that coin without his shrewish wife's knowledge. The man was leaving as Shurran came home from the city architects. Recognizing the cap he asked, "Can he read it?"

"A little. I am running out of people to ask."

Fern did not live-in. She arrived early for breakfast, did light housekeeping and made the evening meal before washing and going home. Nag Kath told her he had other dinner arrangements tomorrow. Shurran gathered he should make his own too.

~o~

Graciel arrived well before six. The former tavern he converted to his home was different without forty people all talking at the same time. It featured a large great room that took most of the first floor with the sleeping and storage rooms upstairs. After she was seated on the couch he asked, "What kind of food do you like?"

"I love lamb."

Not the perfect answer, but Millikens served it along with things he could eat. He helped her back into her coat and they walked a block to the little restaurant. It would get busy in half an hour but they got a table right away. He ordered wine for two.

The woman gave him a long appraisal and said, "I have inquired about you. Did you know you are famous?"

"Here and other places too, though for different things."

"That was you in Dorwinion?"

"Guilty as charged. I was on the Gondor front. Shurran's da and the Buhric troops closed the trap from the north. It could have gone the wrong way. Enough about me, I want to hear more about the lady from the Featherlight."

"There is not much to tell. I am a merchant's only child, born to my parents late in life. They were a loving couple and died within a year of each other. I have friends, no enemies and I work at Fedro's Linens on Mondays and Tuesdays, nice folks."

Their wine arrived and he held his cup up in a silent toast. Her cup tapped against it with a dull click and they sipped. She said, "Back to you. How old are you?"

"Thirty eight."

"A bit young for a grandfather."

"I was born in the service of the dark wizard Saruman and became an Elf in the war, full grown but too late for them to claim. I travel around the world exploring, sometimes in peril. I think it a good life. My step-children are older than I am."

She guessed he would not answer and teased, "And what does a girl make of you?"

He did not take the bait, answering softly, "I have been married twice; once to great joy and once to sorrow. As you know, I enjoy the company of passionate women but cannot give them children."

Their food arrived. She had not had lamb in two years. He ate very little but told her he wouldn't so she could enjoy her dinner. Somehow it came up about her estranged husband being brother-in-law to Lilac of the South Lake. Grace wasn't offended. "If you can tell me you were a dark servant, I suppose I can say that Lilac has the same trouble with her man that I have with mine; greedy boys, very good looking. Fedrandol thought Lilac's da might be the King of Dale with things coming his way. Now Bain will marry a fertile Northwoman and the Carstors girls split a home on the lake in twenty years. I think Fedrandol casts a wider net than my Geordon. Haven't seen either of them in four months."

"So she needs a gentleman for the wedding or has to tell da?"

"Fraid so. Lillith probably knows. I met Lilac through the brothers, ordinarily too lordly for my lot. But we like each other and it is good to have someone to cry with." Graciel was trying to be tough but that was the threshold. She daubed her eyes with her sleeves and said, "Forgive me. I keep asking you that."

"Do not fret. We all have troubles. The King of Erebor is enraged with me. I hope he does not start a war before the wedding."

The man simply would not be serious! She slowly laughed at his jest. He meant it, but it was good to hear her laugh.

~o~

The next morning, Shurran was having porridge and Fern was humming in the kitchen. Nag Kath wandered down with his hair in more disarray than usual. Shurran asked, "Have a good time?"

While the Elf considered that, Graciel followed wearing his heavy socks and his towel robe. Shurran didn't stare before rising as she sat at the main table. She looked tousled too with a pleasant smile. Good for you, Uncle Nag! Fern walked out as if this happened every day and asked if the lady would like breakfast. She would, so extra eggs were scrambled directly.

Grace stole a look at Shurran. Lilac said he was the one to pair, not for Grace but some hill lass with no current husbands. The Elf did not figure into the calculus at all. Strange how that works.

Eggs were a luxury for the poor girl. As she made short work of hers, Nag Kath wondered once again what he had gotten himself into. He decided he had gotten into exactly what he liked most and devil the rest. He still planned to go to Gondor in May and would see what happened with Graciel. She would know everything about him first. The woman went back upstairs to dress. Shurran watched her closely. When Grace returned, she gave Nag Kath a soft smile and went home. The plan was to have dinner again in two days.

There was no food left on Shurran's plate so there was no reason for him to study his reflection so intently. The Elf had not spent much time worrying about the young man's needs. He was pushing twenty and had been in the company of well-off lads his own age in Minas Tirith, no bastion of country values; Minas Tirith. Throw in a couple Feasts of Tellarian and he might have learned a thing or two. Nag Kath said, "Shur, you look unwell."

Shurran snapped out of his reverie and said, "Sorry Nag, I am fine, too many thoughts at the same time."

"I know the feeling."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Reyald and Ardatha might not forgive him any sooner than Thorin Stonehelm, but since the young man was in his care, he would see to his continued good health. Nag Kath took a stroll to an area of Dale where Khandian immigrants had been settling. It was not the habit of those people to put signs in front of their businesses. What sensible person would not know what they did? He found what he was looking for and went in.

This was a depot, of sorts, servicing merchants plying the new trade routes this very Elf had expanded a few years before, not that they knew or cared. In the common-tongue, he asked a porter at the desk to speak to the Dulpachur. The man offered a truly insincere smile and said there was no such person at this humble establishment. Nag Kath leaned in and murmured in Khandian, "Perhaps my friend in Ûbésêsh was mistaken."

The smile stayed glued in place but the eyes reconsidered. "I will see if such a person is known here." He disappeared through the door into the go-down. A few minutes later he was back and said, "Please follow me, best of sirs."

They walked through the usual storehouse hallways until reaching a strongly reinforced door. His guide gestured for Nag Kath to go inside. The door was unlocked. The interior was much better appointed with tapestries beside glass windows above the street level and thick carpets. There was a table with chairs on one side of the room and the deep sitting pillows favored further south than Nag Kath had been.

Sitting at a desk in-between them was a thin, soldierly man in ordinary dress looking through papers. He seemed about forty with short black hair and a thin, trimmed beard. The Khandian looked up without expression and then rose to come within eight feet and bowed. Nag Kath did the same. The fellow said in heavily-accented Westron, "The porter said you were looking for a government official of lands beyond the Rhûn. Of course, there is no one here in that capacity."

Nag Kath replied in Variag, "That is of no moment." He handed the non-government man a fine, sealed envelope saying, "This is a note for Juegesh, Chamberlain of Khagan Yigresh. It is not urgent or secret. I was hoping someone might take it to him in your normal course of business. I do not need to be paid. This is just tying up loose ends."

The letter simply thanked the Chamberlain for receiving the Broric embassy and that troubles to their west had been resolved to the benefit of his Excellency. They already knew that, but the Variag here was well down the ladder from the palace. If the tall barbarian wanted to send a letter to an esteemed person, he could manage that. He could also invite him to sit for tea.

Nag Kath would like to have tried the soft pillows but he was taken to the table for fresh Telandran, instantly brought. To reinforce how important this unimportant message was, the Elf took a nipper out of his vest pocket and gave it to the gentleman saying, "I know the long and dangerous road someone must take. Perhaps this ensures their safety." They both knew whoever would take the letter would do so with whatever else they were taking home for considerably less than a quarter Florin.

That bought an introduction, "I am Jealhouz. You are wise to insist on secure transportation."

"Thank you, Mr. Jealhouz. I am Mr. Solvanth."

"Very good, Mr. Solvansh. It seems you have experience of faraway places. Are you a native of Dale?"

"No Mr. Jealhouz, my business brings me here but I keep households in the south."

Household did not mean the same thing in Dale and Khand. A Northman could only marry one wife, have no concubines and must endure shouting brats under the same roof, an intolerable situation for a civilized man. This Solvansh would know that. Jealhouz offered understandingly, "It can be hard to find life's necessities when one travels, yes?"

The tall blonde man considered that carefully before saying, "It is good to find one who understands that health is essential for successful business. Where might a man inquire after such necessities?"

"Pelighur, seventeen, Alley of the Arrow. You might say Ostren referred you."

Nag Kath rose with a bow, knowing a handshake was offensive, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Jealhouz. Blessings grace your day."

Mr. Solvanth ambled to the furnishings district and looked at wares. That carpet in the non-government man's office was much nicer than anything he had ever owned. He paid quite a bit for two comparable rugs to be delivered to his house later in the day. Nag Kath also stopped by a modest building with a Dalish seventeen painted on the door and asked a young man for Mr. Pelighur. The fellow nodded and retreated into a back room. Less than a minute later, a Variag of about fifty came out with the young man and said, "How can I help, best of sirs?"

The Elf answered in Westron, "Mr. Ostren recommended your services."

Pelighur considered that a moment. Nag Kath supposed that 'Ostren' was the name to be given for the most important referrals, the sort that paid well and should have no comebacks. There would be different names for lesser clients. The man told his clerk in Khandian to attend something in the back. Just then, a very attractive young woman came downstairs with a pleased-looking Northman and showed him to a side door.

Western men were supposed to eschew such impulses, not that all did. The Elf knew Khandians viewed them as normal and that constraining them brought trouble.

Pelighur asked, "Sir has special needs?"

"Quite ordinary. A healthy young man I know needs seasoning. I am reliably told that this is the right address."

"A friend of Mr. Ostren can expect the best."

"Can you have the right lady visit this address tomorrow at the late five-half bell?"

The fellow looked at the otherwise blank slip of paper and said evenly, "I believe so. The right lady will be rigorously selected according to our strict standards. For such a talented person, the cost is a mere two silvers."

Nag Kath had expected this. He did not know a great deal about such economies. That was an exorbitant sum compared to tending soldiers on payday. It might be that haggling was part of the process but it was also possible that the highest references meant he would not be gouged. As usual, the Elf figured that he really didn't care and this was a one-time expense. He took three coins from his vest pocket and handed two to the man. Then he held his finger alongside his nose before vanishing into the market crowd.

Before Shurran returned home, Nag Kath walked into the kitchen where Fern was preparing the evening meal. She was a spare woman, nearing fifty, who had been a servant since she was fourteen. Fern was in Rosalin's pool of reliable cook/housekeepers if tenants needed ready help. She didn't hear him walk in before he said, "Fern, I would like a minute if nothing will burn."

She had gotten used to not hearing the master float around the home and wasn't startled when she heard his voice, "No, Mr. Kath. I won't start the fish for a bit." She dried her hands on the apron and turned.

"Fern, I just wanted to say that I think you are doing a fine job. With the wedding we may be doing more entertaining. Here are three silvers." He handed her the coins saying, "I would like you to get yourself new clothes and shoes in the event we have dinners with esteemed persons. Spend most of it and keep the rest in thanks for your fine work."

This was a fortune to the domestic. Five months' salary out of the clear blue sky! She curtsied again and whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Kath."

"Shurran and I have plans for tomorrow night so after breakfast, do your shopping and take the day off. Come back the next night for the usual supper."

Fern was sharper than dear Tella. She floated, "Your pardon, Mr. Kath, the spare room still has many of your late wife's clothes. They won't fit me or your recent guest, probably need a good cleaning, too. Should I find new homes for them?"

The orc blinked, realizing just how slow he could be. A room full of Eniece's old things did not set the right tone for Grace, should she wander in there. He was only keeping them because he hadn't thought about them. He looked at Fern in appreciation and said, "Good thinking. Have a man-cart take them to the Woman's Care charity at the wharf before you go shopping."

"All of them sir?"

"Keep the ones you like, but yes." He didn't want to see them again. "I'll sort through the other things later. I suppose …"

That sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Fern opened it and four burly lads asked permission to bring in the two rugs. He had completely forgotten about those. Walking behind Fern he said, "Oh, good lads. Put the green one right there by the table and follow me with the red one." With that he led them upstairs to unroll the plush pile next to the bed. That would feel good between the toes first thing in the morning. He gave the men ten groats and they grinned from ear-to-ear. At this time of day, those would be converted to ale within the hour.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Shurran seemed to be very busy at the city office. They had to rebuild two arches under one of the wall-walks. When you talk about arches in Middle-earth, you talk to Nag Kath so Uncle Nag spent time with his young charge and visited the city office last week. He knew it by heart. Shurran was away after breakfast and did not expect to be back until six.

When he got home, Uncle Nag was sitting on the couch next to an exquisite eastern beauty dressed in their traditional gown showing hints of red and lavender underneath. The young man was flabbergasted. After all those long years of abstinence, the Elf was not only rolling in the hay with the pretty local girl, his lusts had driven him to the tender ministrations of a pleasure woman! Shurran would move up to the family home as soon as he could.

Nag Kath did not act 'caught red-handed'. In fact, the silly Elf brightened and said, "Hello Shur. Come sit with us. This is Teurven."

The astonishing doll face smiled and said, "I am pleased to meet you, sir."

Shurran recovered his manners, "The pleasure is mine, Teurven."

Uncle Nag kept the conversation flowing, "We were just talking about Khand, lovely place; Khand."

Teurvan smiled again, "You are too kind, sir."

Shurran had no idea what to do. Should he leave? Fern didn't seem to be around so there was no dinner and Nag Kath's new girlfriend wasn't here either. What could one say to Uncle Nag's amusements?

His confusion grew worse. Nag Kath rose and so did the young woman. Both bowed to each other and the Elf said, "Well, I'm off. It was a pleasure meeting you, Teurvan." With that he took his coat and hat from the peg and sauntered into the dusk.

The woman sat back down and said, "Mr. Solvansh says you are a fine young man." Her face formed the perfect smile.

Nag Kath chuckled all the way to Grace's apartment. There was a candle burning upstairs. He knocked and waited until she walked downstairs with coat in hand. They had dinner at the King's Arrow Inn, the very first place he stayed in Dale. Not much had changed.

After ordering, Grace looked at him closely and said, "You seem much more pleased than you should. Is that from expecting my charms?"

"In part."

"Yes?"

"I did someone a favor."

"That is a habit of yours."

He grinned, "One of my favorites."

They talked about small things over the meal. Grace explained what she liked to do at leisure, her friends, hearing the singers in the park during summer. As usual, he listened more than he spoke, watching the woman grow animated describing her favorite things. He drank her in. Graciel was taller than average but not as tall as his wives or Tal. She had a fuller-figure with some wave to her light brown hair. Grace had the same enigmatic smile, though. Was that what brought him to them?

As they finished, she said, "We are equal distance and not near either of our homes. I suppose we should be walking."

"I have reserved a room here."

Grace kept her smile but said, "I fear this is not my week for your attentions, dear man."

He took her upstairs and sat her on the bed before taking off her shoes. Then he removed his and lay beside her. This was unusual in her experience. Her husband was a good lover, but not the first, or the last. Those men had needs and expected her to accommodate, no matter her cycle. Paying for a room at the Arrow without release would not have suited them. This Elf-fellow just snuggled and kissed her ear. Nag Kath had gathered most of her intimate secrets from clues. She was too experienced to be another of his sheltered flowers. And she enjoyed herself too much to have been coerced.

When her breathing was quite still he asked, "What do you want for yourself, Grace?"

"Oh, I don't know. I am comfortable now. I see my friends. I enjoy pleasurable company. I am twenty-four, so, no babe in the forest. At some point, I may want more constancy. It has all been so confusing since I married. Everyone told me this would be the best time of my life. I hope not."

It was none of his business but that had never stopped him, "Is your husband causing you troubles?"

"Geordon? No. I cannot support him on my silver a month so he looks elsewhere. Never met his widow-lady. I would rather not. You are awfully curious."

"It is my nature. Would you think it patronizing if I offered to pay for your divorce?"

She rolled over to his face. He could tell in the candlelight that her eyes were wide open. "Yes, that would be, well, I am not for hire. Think you to free me for your own needs?! I hardly know you."

"I thought that was what you would say. I would do this as one of my unknown favors. You wouldn't owe me anything. It is just that I will journey south in the summer and this is the only chance I have to help."

Grace said firmly, "I do not like being dependent. Men always think they can control me with silver. They cannot! It would make me no different than one of those Easterling pleasure girls! I think I should go home."

Nag Kath begged to differ but that conversation could wait. He held her close, "I hope you will stay with me tonight. I am really a nice fellow."

Mollified, she rolled over so they were resting like spoons again. "Very well. But now you must tell me all the things you have so artfully avoided in your charming banter."

He kissed her ear again and said, "It seems you have me dead to rights." He spoke for half a bell of his life, leaving out none of the blood and intrigue. Grace felt a chill in her bones. Had she not believed him because she did not want to? She knew he was important but had no idea he was so dangerous. She believed it this time. Now here he was; not taking her as any other man would or interested in her monthly silver. Graciel thought she knew all about men and their uncomplicated ways. But this creature was not a man, not by a long-shot.

She had not said a peep. Nag Kath added even more softly, "So you see, dear Graciel, I cannot expect any woman of man to wait me home from a market stall. I am not of this world. I am in service of powers I do not yet understand. So when I offered to free you, it is not for my pleasure, except that it would make me feel useful."

Grace started to cry. She did not know why. Was it that all the things she thought herself over came due? She was not sad or distraught or ashamed. She felt release. She indulged her tears and the warm man next to her did not interrupt.

Graciel slept soundly. He felt her breathing. The sun was well up before she yawned and stretched her arms, almost hitting his face with an elbow. He said, "You dreamed last night."

"You were watching me?"

"I seldom sleep."

"Oh." What does one say to that?

This was the point where either she would decide to see him again or part forever. It could wait until she swished cold tea in her mouth to remove the night-taste. After adjusting all of the twists that come from sleeping fully-dressed, she sat on the bed with her back to him and was very still. They both knew she would have to speak next. He waited. "You frighten me, Nag Kath."

"I frighten everyone."

No flowery attempt to dispel her conceptions, no smooth assurance of safety and comfort. He was not making this easy on purpose. Grace was a clever girl. His former wives and lovers, surprisingly few given the time, had joined him in the most human, earthly circumstance. Neither he nor they had another frame of reference. He had bared his soul with her so she would not be surprised, or trapped. She could put on her shoes and walk out the door.

Grace rose and kissed him passionately. "Come, I will make you breakfast." They bought fresh eggs on the way to her apartment.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath got home about lunch time. Shurran was sitting on the couch in his towel robe and heavy socks eating yesterday's bread. Unusually, he was upright rather than conforming to the cushions in his usual teenage slouch. Uncle Nag hung his coat and hat on the pegs by the door and walked in looking at the new carpet. The air still held subtle perfume.

"How are you doing, Shur?"

Shurran oh-so-slowly bloomed into his grandfather's infamous grin. "Not bad, Nag. Not bad." As all men but few women know, there is nothing better in this world than 'not bad'.

"Did Tuerven get the little envelope on the coat peg?"

"Aye, she put in her pocket this morning." Shurran would not have known there was a minder waiting outside to escort her back to Khand-town.

The Elf pulled a mug from the cold-tea jug. He brought it back to his usual chair and kicked his feet on the low table. Shur took a sip of his tea. They kept their own counsel for several minutes until the young man said, "You are a devious creature, Uncle Nag."

"Dead to rights."

Shurran smiled again, "Where did you … no, never mind." He sipped more tea and stared at the stove.

Uncle Nag said, "No need to mention this to anyone I know." Meaning anyone Shurran knew as well. Of course, this put the young, almost-heir to Dale in play. He might pursue this or use the experience to gently teach a blushing bride. At two silvers plus another for a tip, this would not be part of the young Lord's regular amusements. Shur decided he didn't need to stay at the lonely family home as much as he thought last night. He stammered a little, "Nag, I mean, Nag, is that what drives men to such madness? … Like my grandfather?"

His spare grandfather took a sip and said, "It can, but also money, or power since money is power up to a point. Though it has not worked for me; folk want to leave their mark. Another generation is always needed. Making children must be enjoyable else men would not bother. Women can enjoy themselves too but that is not certain and they take the pain and risk. Always feel for women, Shurran." He thought about Grace. "Yes, women take all the risk."

Shurran asked, "What is next?"

Nag Kath wasn't sure if that was about females or a new subject. He took the latter, "I suppose we get ready for your cousin's nuptials. What's Brenen doing? I haven't seen him since my own entanglements."

Shurran thought of females and steered them back, "Entanglements, yes. None of those with Teurvan, I suppose. But you are seeing a married woman known to your family, your other family."

Uncle Nag squinted as he tongued a piece of tea from between his teeth and said, "I don't have the same problems as men. I can't be embarrassed or taken to court or have my guild membership revoked. No, Shur, I don't want to hurt the woman, because she, or any other, has to live in a world I only visit." The Elf raised his eyebrows, "I like Grace and she seems to like me, knowing full well that I may leave for Mordor to destroy foul rings. And that, dear grandson, is why I protect innocent dancers."

Shurran sighed. Eniecia would be back in Minas Tirith silently dreaming of the aide from Dol Amroth, or someone new by now. Thinking of that made him appreciate the Elf even more. Reversing usual coming-of-age homilies he said, "Let me know if you need anything, Nag."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Late March is always important in Dale. Folk can expect one last miserable storm but the crocus flowers will push their way through the snow knowing if it defeats them, the daffodils will endure. Farmers won't plant until the first of May but decent weather allows all the chores needed to prepare. Soldiers can march and ride and clean after playing cards in the barracks all winter. Businesses wash their windows.

Nag Kath kept seeing Grace and they became very close. She stayed over some nights but lived in her apartment. They had dinner with Brenen and Bard one evening. She went to see him practice swordplay every Thursday morning. It made them both amorous which sometimes hurt his concentration knowing they would go to her home immediately afterwards. Khellandar had done a little research of his own to discover the man was some sort of orphaned Elf and responsible for a great deal of sword-work, much for his own King Elessar. They still had not shared an ale but his training was now peer-to-peer.

On the first of April, Grace rolled over to him and said, "Nag, did you mean what you said about helping me be shot of Geordon?" At the time it could have been a ploy to seduce her. It did not seem so now which made her reconsider.

"Sure. It could take time but I knew a few people in the city office."

Here true fear showed, "My trouble is that Geordon will contest it. Unless he agrees, the union cannot be sundered. Northmen have their rights." This was the main reason she had not pursued this by herself or taken Nag Kath up on the offer. If her husband stood to come into her modest inheritance and was not pressed by his widow-woman to marry, why would he disclaim either? Grace tried not to think of this or she would become melancholy. When the inheritance was paid, her silver a month stopped.

But Grace was not used to having a sorcerous paramour either. He mulled that over and said, "That should not be an obstacle."

Oh dear! Would he murder Geordon or drive him mad? What she now knew of Nag Kath, he could probably rain lightning bolts down on the man's house or plunge him into the River Running. Geordon was a swine, but Grace wanted a peaceful way out. Resolutely she said, "No, you must not rend him or turn him into a whisker-fish!"

"If I could make the arrangements without blood or lasting harm, would you sign the paper?"

Grace had to think about that. When she thought hard, her lips pursed and she made a terrible frown with her eyebrows. There was no confusing the expression. She looked at her Elf and said, "Yes, but it does not mean I will marry you or, or anything else. You must not ask that of me!"

That netted half a grin, "Fair enough."

~o~

The next day he presented her with the Bill of Separation, a document dating before the nation of Dale. It was designed to make life miserable in hopes of keeping child-bearing couples together. She wondered if Nag Kath had this prepared in advance. He didn't say. She was in the store today so she signed it quickly and saw to a lady who was confused about which of two widths of linen was the better price.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Gertrudath Kingspor was forty-three. Married young to the incorrigible Faeron Kingspor, they had no children, no debt and properties that produced regular income. She was a plump, matronly woman who enjoyed marital pleasures with her older husband and with Geordon Iömendel as Faeron's ardor flagged. When a blood vessel in Kingspor's brain burst, Geordon moved in, leaving his pretty but déclassé wife in their modest apartment.

Gertrudath knew she had the man by her favorite parts, but she was past her prime and jealous of Graciel or any other woman who caught his eye. She could marry again since the terms of her legacy kept her money away from future husbands. That was no accident. It did pay for his fine clothes and three meals a day on top of stabling his horse and pocket money. And she liked Geordon for more than his attentions. Gertrudath knew nothing of the modest sum he might see if he could only stay married to Graciel, since he would not see a groat if he married his financially-invulnerable bundle of love. Grace knew little of this either. When the man emptied his dresser, she cried and got over it. The sword and the broken leaf pipe were his spares.

Nag Kath knew even less but he knew people who knew people, starting with Brenen. Nag Kath had freed Brenen's own mother from his abusive father when no one else would feed her. She was still hale and looked after his increasing stream of grandchildren. Brenen would understand, "Bren, I need some personal help."

Coming from Nag this was rare. People went to him for help. He listened. "What do you know of Geordon Iömendel?"

"A bit. He is the kept-man for Mrs. Kingspor. She bought one of your apartments a few years back. He seems nice enough but not our sort." Brenen put on his thinking face and asked, "Gracies's husband?"

"Aye, lad. She is ready for better and I agreed to help."

"You aren't going to drag him through the River Running, are you?"

Nag Kath smiled, "I'd rather not. But Grace is sure he will never sign the Bill since he stands to inherit something her da put by."

Brenen was much more practical than his step-da and was sure the well-meaning Elf was considering intricate schemes to trick the gigolo into divorce. The businessman asked, "What is the estate?"

"Five Florin or thereabouts."

Brenen shook his head. Uncle Nag could be so thick about such things, "Bribe him. Cheaper than whisker-fish, I'll wager."

Nag Kath sat up straight. Brenen continued, "Take four of those old Florins to the man and say, "Sign this and these are yours. Bring pen and ink with you."

The next morning, Mrs. Kingspor took a man-cart to see her dear friend Heldiene Flourshal, now of the Landreth district. A few minutes later, a fellow knocked on the door and was admitted while the maid went to fetch the man of the house.

Geordon Iömendel had heard his dearly beloved was seeing a tall, blonde soldier. He stood in the hallway and said, "What do you want?"

Nag Kath replied, "I am here to get your signature on Graciel's separation papers."

Iömendel was a fit, athletic man but the stranger was half a foot taller and looked capable of serious damage. A glance at the maid sent her quickly somewhere else. "And what keeps me from throwing you in the street?"

Nag Kath pulled a Florin from his vest pocket and slowly twisted it through his fingers as if considering it for the first time. He rolled it into his fist and said, "I think we can come to terms."

They did, and quickly too. People imagine gold ringing like baby cymbals. It is really a dull clank. Nag Kath dropped three coins in the husband's hand. If Iömendel tried anything untoward, there were all the possibilities his conspirators talked him out of. Grace's husband was a sharp man of commerce and saw the solemn Numenorean Kings as they should be; surrounded by knurled edges, two with tooth marks in their foreheads. The dissolution specifically waived claims to anything from his former wife. He took it to a desk in the room that had pen and ink. Mixing the latter with a splash of water, he signed the sheet with a flourish. Handing it to Nag Kath, their business was done without another word.

Nag Kath skipped the usual line at the city clerk and saw a man who knew he knew Rosscranith. "Hello, Soldalars. Hope you are the picture of health."

"Couldn't be better, Lord Kath. What brings you by my little dungeon?"

"I need a favor. A lady friend of mine has been ill-used by her husband and wants to end the union."

Soldalars put on his spectacles and said, "Hmm, drafted by Uvaldas. He knows his business. This all seems in order. Wait here." He was back in fifteen minutes with the official stamp of Dale, his own signature and that of the head magister, who also worked for Rosscranith.

Nag Kath was waiting outside of Grace's shop when she closed at five, not expecting to see him until tomorrow evening. She saw him sitting on the bench across the street and sashayed over. He really loved that about her. Grace sat next to him and he asked her, "How was your day?"

"I sold three bolts of the linen and two of wool, a good day. And yours?"

He seemed to struggle with other thoughts but managed, "Productive."

They had an early supper and enjoyed intimacy at her apartment. He was quiet and urgent, more needful than usual. She enjoyed herself but noticed the difference. "What is it Nag?"

He got out of bed and pulled a certified proof of the separation out of his jacket; the original staying at the clerk's office. As she read it, she began to tremble. Grace looked at him in amazement tinged with terror at gaining choices she had forced from her mind. Her mouth would not work.

He filled the void, "You are free. Please come to me soon."

Nag Kath dressed, kissed her softly and walked home knowing he would never see her again.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

His was the misery of inevitability.

Tal was young love sundered by great force. Eniece was the loss of someone so perfect for him. He would have been constant to her as long as she lived. With Flor, he was in love with being in love, with the idea of her. Losing the child was much harder at the counting.

Flor set the stage for Grace. This failed because it had to. In his own mind he offered everything a woman could want but there was too much more, frightening and powerful and not of this world. That must eventually apply to all else. Nag Kath was a friend for life. But the closest friends are bonded in shared experiences. He was sharing fewer of those. He was not the hapless changeling needing help tying shoes or riding a horse. No one took him lightly.

That worked against everything he wanted in love. He wanted the intimacy of two equal people sharing the same life and goals. But he loved as a man at the speed of an Elf. Unless a woman wanted the power or position he brought, or exchanged some of her youth for his coin (much the same in his view), he could not be beloved. He could be wrong. Graciel might knock at his door tomorrow knowing nothing of his anguish. He would certainly meet women who were attracted to him and they might be different. But would he let them get close? Would he simply be waiting for the inevitable?

When he got home almost home, Nag Kath stopped at the stable for a look at Charlo. He rode whenever weather permitted. The horse was twitchy if he didn't work-up a sweat fairly often. It had been a week so Nag Kath saddled the handsome steed and cantered out the Erebor road along the wheat stubble.

The wind in his face felt good. Charlo did not talk about sorrow or loss or worry about what might have been. It was just the sort of conversation Nag Kath needed. Two hours later they rode back to the stable. Unusually, neither the stableman nor his son were there so the Elf brushed the horse down himself and put his blanket back on.

He was late for dinner. Fern kept half a trout near the stove knowing Nag Kath showed when he liked and was never fussy about his food being served whenever that happened to be. As far as anyone needed to know, things were as they had been.

~o~

In the next week when Nag Kath was sorting through all this, the city of Dale was preparing for their King's wedding. This was a grand event and unlike his investiture, wasn't a funeral in disguise. What made it all the sweeter was he was marrying one of their own! No foreign Princess with an unpronounceable name; this lass. She was a commoner and one of seven children which boded well for a royal family.

Nag Kath held out hope he would see Grace but began preparing to travel south. There were a lot of goodbyes and this time he would say them properly. It felt different. After Eniece died, he always felt he would be back. He wasn't sure now. If time was indeed stretching before him, he could not count on being local and dashing between safe cities of the west. Something was drawing him to the power of Orlo, perhaps as the Elves were pulled to Valinor. At some point he wanted to see what was keeping victims of the Witch-King restless. It was a big world.

Torrold and Gerda arrived the week before the wedding. This was the off-year for the Thainmoot but the country gentry would mostly be here and talk among themselves. Haldieria and Gerruld stayed home since their youngest wasn't ready to ride. They had seen Shurran last fall. He stayed with his Uncle and Aunt in the family home while they were here.

Thain Durnaldar pulled-in two days later with Thain Gorhannda from Celduin Village joined en route. There was buzzing in Dwarvish enclaves as well. It would not do unless there was a dinner reliving the Dorwinion adventure with Torrold and Shurran deputizing for Reyald. The hairy horses proved to be good draft animals.

Since he and Shurran had come back from Buhr Austar in the fall, neither of them had seen either the King or dowager Queen. Nag Kath was used to that but Shurran was a bit surprised he had not been called for tea and cakes at least once. They had lunch a couple times with Rosscranith. That changed when Shurran was invited to the Groomsmen's party two days before the ceremony. As a member of the entourage, they practiced their parts and had a casual dinner afterwards with about twenty five of the King's friends. Bain and Shurran spent a while together as the event ended and Shurran was glad of it, but did not share what was said.

~o~

Nag Kath had plans to go to the ceremony but did not plan to stay long at the reception. His outlook had improved in the last two weeks. This would be a good chance to farewell acquaintances. His close personal friends would come soon enough.

All that went well. Everyone remembered their lines. No one fainted or drank too much before the readings. The congregation saw their liege wed the lovely Xondra and made for the reception room where a host of eats and drinks were waiting. Stonehelm did not attend. Neither did Frôr. Deputizing was Tombor. Nag Kath missed seeing him at the ceremony since he was near the front and short. At the reception they nearly bumped into each other. Nag Kath greeted him, "Good day old friend."

"Good day, Lord Kath." That was not promising.

"I was about to get another ale."

The Dwarf Lord finally smiled and said, "I'll join you."

They found a nook in the big room. Tombor had a swig and dealt with the inevitable foam on his moustache before saying, "Good to see you. Thank you for your assistance in the east … and north."

"I seem to have been born for the job. It will be up to Durin's folk to cook the next pig."

"Muhaa! Then you are gone?"

"Back to the White City with my grandson."

The great lord stared in his mug for a moment before confessing, "It is not your fault, you know. In this Fourth Age we should be past the darkness. I will tell you this, though; gold sickness lessened when that ring hit molten stone. So did energy. We must learn to draw inspiration from ourselves now."

The changeling nodded slowly, "Your peoples' courage will stand you in good stead, my friend. Stay close to Gimli. He has seen something of this world."

"I will, young man. I will."

~o~

Laying back to let the first flush out the door he heard, "Hello, Nag Kath. That was a grand thing!"

Behind him were Devoran Carstors and his wife Lil. Lillith and Lilac were talking with friends. Lillith was with her husband. Lilac was not. No doubt that had been discussed thoroughly, but Nag Kath did not imagine it came as a surprise to anyone. Getting rid of that husband would be no harder than his brother.

Nag Kath bowed and shook their hands. Dev continued, "I enjoyed seeing Shurran in uniform. He is a man grown."

"Aye, Dev. I've enjoyed his company this last year. We'll be going back to the White City within the month so his parents can have a look."

Carstors smiled and said, "Good. I'll have a word with him. His parents should visit me when they come this way. It is just off the trail if you know where to look."

They parted as friends. Folk like the Carstors made the best of friends.

Two partings would be harder. Master Sarnt Burry was in his sixties. His full head of white hair and beard made him look like a prophet of yore. They sat on the bench in front of his two-story house and looked at the last of the snow melt trickling down the cobblestones. Neither said much. Nag Kath thanked him for all the years. He might be back. Burry would know when he saw him. Burry would not know this until the Elf was gone but the Royal Bank of Dale had a small retirement stipend ready. Nag Kath thought that since he was immortal, it was unfair to make people wait for a legacy.

The hardest goodbye was Brenen. Brenen was his son in every meaningful way. He would never leave Dale. His health was not robust. Bren might be here but this was the leaving with no guarantee of return. They spoke long of things that did not need to be said, memories that would never die. They cried.

Bard was in the office with Ros. If Bren was a son, Bard was a nephew. They talked old times too, thought it seemed more likely Bard would live to great age. Bren and Bard's sons would take the business over this summer and let the old-timers enjoy their retirement. Bard did ask if only Shurran and he were leaving. Nag Kath was afraid so.

~o~

Other than a surprise gift for Burry and a draft for the Bank in Minas Tirith, Nag Kath left everything the way it was. Dale was still home.

They stopped two days in Esgaroth wishing Mrs. Borenne farewell. She was walking almost normally, making good on her promise to be on her feet again. There was sadness here too but Shurran and his family would probably be back in two years at the end of Reyald's posting, even if they were only visiting. Post service was good enough that letters between Dale, Rohan and Gondor came almost monthly when the weather allowed. Shurran promised to be a better correspondent.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~