Chapter 28

Name to the Face

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The Old Forest Road was not built for forty years of peace. Merchant trains, some three or four wagons long, trundle at a snail's pace in the best of times. When they would meet one coming from the other direction on a one-lane track, they would often shout at each other like man-carters claiming the right of way until one or the other would back up or hitch a horse to the back of a wagon and pull it the other direction.

On horseback, Nag Kath and Shurran could usually slip through the forest but they never moved faster than a canter. Large campsites had been cleared in grudging trees to get men and beasts off the road at night. The two travelers usually stayed at those to hear stories of the path ahead. When they finally broke clear of the forest, the traffic continued either west or south and they turned north to Rosghobel to stay at the same site they had on the way up.

Waiting for wizards gives one spare time. Shurran gently asked more about his Khandian visitor. Nag Kath didn't mind. Shur was a grown man and ought to know how the world of men worked, to the extent the Elf knew. Nag Kath had not pressed on details but was sure the young man had more than a roll in the hay with a local tart.

Unavoidably, it brought up Graciel. The Elf was honest about that too, though it hurt. "I wanted her to come with me but realized that was selfish. I love women, everything about them. But she is a girl of Dale and I could not tear her away from everyone she knows and loves to follow me to the back of beyond chasing demons. The perfect man for her lives within a mile of her and they will find each other." Nag Kath didn't mention that he asked Bart of Grace's childhood remembrance to take her a few things she left at his house. It worked for Burry's lad!

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After three days of talking about women, both of them needed activity. Nag Kath said, "I am going into the forest to seek Radagast. I have only a general direction and I expect the trees will close around me to hide his home. It will be dangerous. You can stay or come."

"What else have I got to do?"

"We'll need to walk the horses."

The Elf remembered the trip at about four hours with the brown wizard leading the way. After eight hours they were still tramping through vines and ferns after several wrong turns and dead-ends. As the sun got low, Nag Kath felt something to his right and made for it, coming to the clearing around the ramshackle house.

It was neither the better nor worse for wear. Shurran, a consulting engineer, wondered just as his grand-da had how the place did not collapse in a cloud of dust. Nag Kath gave Shurran the reins and walked up the groaning porch steps for a look. The door was agar. He poked his head in and saw nothing different. His little bird pictures were still in mismatched frames by the small writing desk. No one was home. He walked back to the horses and they decided to make a fireless camp at the edge of the clearing. Shurran wanted to talk about women again but when he finally slept, he was out like a light.

The young man did not wake until the sun was already up. After a long yawn and stretch he saw his grandfather adding sticks to a small fire for porridge and tea. Shurran laced his boots and fetched water for the pot. It wasn't until after breakfast that Nag Kath felt the presence.

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No matter which way you sat, Radagast came from behind you. The Elf turned over his shoulder and said, "Hello, old friend. You are just in time for tea."

The old wizard shuffled closer and said, "Good." Looking at the Northman he asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Shurran Conath, sir." He had been coached that wizards are not lords and like to keep things informal."

Nag Kath added, "He is my grandson. Radagast, this is Shurran. Shur, this is Radagast."

The tea was very strong now and tepid but Shurran got a tin cup for the wizard who sat on a log and put his staff by his feet. Taking a long slurp he said, "Ah, I don't get many visitors. You may have been the last. How long has that been?"

"Almost thirteen years."

"Are you still drawing birds?"

"Not lately. I have been involved in intrigues, some with sorcery."

The wizard finished the little cup and said, "Well, I suppose you are here for counsel."

"That and some tidings in exchange."

"Then let us go inside. Young man, you can just leave the horses where they are. They will not stray." Shurran piled the saddles and tack under the porch eaves and both travelers brought their bags into the house. If the young Northman's eyes were agog at the outside, the interior made him sure the home was but a breath of wind from crumpling. Radagast sank in the same chair Nag Kath was sure would splinter with one more sitting all those years ago. The home and everything in it was not held together by pegs and nails.

The wizard filled a small pipe lying on the side table with leaf and made sure it was perfect before dragging a match across the floor for his first puff. Like Gandalf, that was done in complete silence. It smelled like Shire weed to the Elf, knowing that these wizards had their sources. As the smoke cleared Radagast said to Shurran, "You look like the bowman."

"Great great grandfather, on the other side. Nag is a step-grand-da."

The wizard considered that longer than idle chat and then said to the Elf, "Tell me of your quest, young fellow."

Nag Kath had thought his presentation through several ways. Gandalf would stay where he was, hardly eating or sleeping until his task was complete. When the Elf was last here, Radagast seldom spent more than two hours at a time with him before wandering off into the forest on some errand. Sometimes Nag Kath tagged along but usually he sat and waited. He thought he would start with his easiest conundrum.

Fetching the little book from his pack, he handed it to the wizard opened to the part in Quenya saying, "These are Elvish healing spells from Lord Elrond. I cannot determine how they draw the power and I cannot understand the older parts at all. I was hoping you might know.

He had a second reason for asking; he could just ask Arwen when he got to Minas Tirith. She might even have the finished copy. But she had known he was a healer for twelve years and had never volunteered a word of advice. This could be proprietary knowledge. He did not think he would even mention her da's book when he got there.

Radagast read the entire book and the Quenya twice. It took half a bell and Nag Kath was impressed by Shurran's precocious patience. Big with a beard, it was easy to forget he was not yet twenty. The wizard closed the volume and put it in his lap saying, "Quenya is never still. It changed many times. Sometimes I think the Elves made their own versions so they didn't have to understand each other. That did not end well. This is a newer version."

"It tells of a soothing spell to aid confusion after injury, else the patient succumbs for losing his vigor. Elrond is very good at that." The wizard thumbed through the pages with a combination of humming and muttering. "Now here in the back is a story that when Elves and men had children, sometimes the two bloodlines would fight for dominance and harm the person."

Shurran asked, "Then this is how to cure the malady?"

"I fear not. It was always deadly. But even in the Second Age, those unions were rare. I was not here then but this cannot have happened much."

Nag Kath had a personal stake in this, "Were there children born to women by male Elves?"

"I only knew of three half-Elven and they were all borne of Elf maids. But mind; the most famous of those were Elrond's own line so I can see his interest. His brother had enough Elf to be given the choice. These notes just end so he must not have made progress."

Nag Kath prodded, "And the power summoning …?"

"Oh, different than us. I think they pull from air but the incantations are much more important. We use feel. You know that. You need to say the ones written here correctly and trace the lines of power. You were air, like Saruman?"

"You said water."

"Oh yes. None of the wizards were of water. I do not think a staff would help you with water ... too dense."

Shurran was enthralled. Uncle Nag was honest to a fault but he did not say much about magic. Now here he was talking with a creature that might be twenty thousand years old like farmers discussing weather. The Elf was only forty.

Nag Kath asked, "Did Gandalf keep the piece of Saruman's staff?"

"That or he destroyed it. Goodness, did you ever light that up?! That was more because of Saruman than his spells. Poor Curumo. What a waste. We wizards were not made powerful, not meant to get above ourselves." He looked closely at the Elf and said more sternly, "I hope you have been behaving."

All he got for his admonition was a Nag Kath grin.

~o~

That concluded the session for the day. The wizard told them to stay where they were as he had a few things to attend in the northeast. Taking his staff he ambled out the door and was gone in far less time than it should take an old man to cover ground.

Shurran stretched and walked around the home. Like the Bombadil's, it seemed larger inside than could be told outside. He looked at the three bird pictures and then the confusion of bowls, herbs and vials scattered about a room split down the middle by a huge tree. Sunlight showed through large cracks in the ceiling and walls but they still blocked the breeze. Nag Kath went to the fireplace and checked the wood stocks. He knew that if there was housework to be done, he had better do it. The Elf also went through the food stores expecting them to be bleak. They were; good thing for the Lembas.

The wizard returned past midnight and lay on his bed fully dressed. Nag Kath watched him and wondered why wizards needed rest. Why had they been created as old men needing food and sleep? A clue was when Radagast said only this morning that they were not meant to be powerful, perhaps not to take power for themselves as Saruman proved he could not resist. His clothes could be as old as he. They were the worse for wear with few weavers of robes plying the Old Forest Road.

Nag Kath made porridge for all with tea and Lembas crumbles added for sustenance. Shurran looked to the horses that seemed content but would eat through the grass in the little clearing before long. He gave them a few handfuls of oats to show all was well in the world. Radagast wandered over for breakfast when it was ready and the Elf started the second of the three unknowns. "Old friend, I told you of residual sorcery. Three years past I journeyed to the east, starting in Rhûn then Khand and finally Mordor."

That got the old wizard's attention, and quickly. He sat on the edge of his chair and left the spoon in his mush.

Nag Kath continued, "I was following tales of a fell lord on the west side of the Nûrnen. My companions were from all of those lands. He had a ring of power, Radagast, a Dwarf ring."

The wizard considered that and asked, "Do you know which one?"

"I do not, but only because I have not been able to speak with any Dwarves without revealing its discovery. I fomented a terrible war among the rulers around the lake and the tyrant was defeated. The ring I threw into the last of Orodruin as I left. It was of less moment than I thought."

Radagast shook his head and said, "Mor … dor. A black and terrible place."

"It was, but now rain falls. Rivers bring clean water to all sides of the sea and people grow enough to eat. There are trees, Radagast, trees, all equally tall as if they had waited an age to sprout on the same day. Did you or the Ents have a hand in that?"

The wizard kept shaking his head and admitted, "Nay, it was not me, nor the Ents neither. They never found their wives and are too thin to mind their northern flocks." Radagast became more animated having hit on one of his own topics, "There will be trouble, mind. The trees have few shepherds. They are like men," looking to Shurran, "present company excepted, men without the Elves to guide them. I cannot see accommodation between the two!"

Nag Kath calmed him, "There, there, old friend. Even men of Mordor will listen to reason. Who can speak to the trees?"

The wizard kept shaking his head until finally saying, "I do not know. Do you speak treeish?"

"Not a word. My Black Speech and wargish will win me no favor there."

Radagast permitted himself the smallest smile, "So be it. But talk to Treebeard. You know him from Orthanc."

It was Nag Kath's time to doubt, "We never met. Gandalf kept me away from them, too close to my Uruk past, I suppose. I saw them from the balcony when they would come to repair the grounds. Do they speak Sindarin?"

"He does. I cannot say about the rest. Try Fangorn."

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The exchange seemed to take a lot from the wizard. Nag Kath knew Gandalf could do without sleep and food for long periods but must eventually restore himself. Radagast clutched his staff before rising unsteadily and saying he needed to tend things in the forest. No one asked why or when he would return.

Why was his own business but when was two days later. The two travelers found things to do in the meantime. Nag Kath studied the spells but got no results. It might be his orcish accent. He had learned the language by reading, not listening. The Silvans in the Woodland Realm and the Elf-keepers understood him but those were not the pure voices made to utter those incantations with authority. Elrond might have taken for granted what he alone knew.

Shurran managed a campfire stew of greens and oats and a root that looked a cousin to a rutabaga. They left the mushrooms alone. Before it was ready to serve, Radagast creaked up the stairs and seemed refreshed. Not for the first time the Elf wondered if he gained strength from the forest rather than the other way around. The brown one walked to the stove and smelled deeply, inhaling real cooking for the first time in who knew how long. At dinner, Nag Kath returned to the subject of evil, in a roundabout way, "Radagast, in my trip I passed the Dead Marshes."

"Wretched place. Whatever took you there?"

"Just the shortcut between Gondor and Dorwinion. Most folk stay west and use the Old Forest Road, even still." Very carefully he asked, "Do you know what keeps them preserved?"

The question did not trouble the wizard, "I am told they are not bodies, only the spirit of bodies."

The Elf thought that was as good an opening as he would get, "And yet they remain, have they found their ways to the Halls of Mandos?"

"I do not know. But some parts of them remain, else their appearance is just a memory for those who happen along that sorry path. You will learn; if you have not already, that it takes energy to maintain such an illusion."

"Tell me then, Radagast, whose energy is used?"

"I do not know." With that, the wizard sank further into his chair and slept.

~o~

Nag Kath thought himself a poor guest. Here he had imposed on the shy old bird-friend, interrogating him with the gleanings of a world best forgotten. He lost himself in reproach until he saw Shurran's face freeze in apprehension. Following the Northman's eyes, Radagast's hands were almost melding into the arm of his chair. Come to that; the chair was not flimsy at all. It was growing, part of the network of vines and roots that snaked throughout the rooms, carefully trained over centuries with a nudge here and a pull there to just his shape.

The two visitors looked at each other and rose to take the conversation outdoors. Shurran started, "Did you see it?"

"Aye."

"You said he was a creature of the wild. Is he becoming one with it?"

"I think so, Shur. Gandalf sailed away. Saruman molders here. I think there were other wizards or Maiar in their ranks but who knows how they were to be recalled? Do you remember me speaking of a Wild Huntsman?"

"I never quite believed it, until now."

His grandfather smiled, "It would be the worst sort of Ale-house yarn. But it is true and that fellow may still be stalking the graveyards of those just as dead as in the marshes."

"What about Radagast?" Can he go home?"

"I think he is becoming a part of his home. Let us leave that unless he asks. It is a subtle thing and, methinks, still some time off."

The two collected more sticks for the fire and went back inside.

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The wizard slept soundly the whole night, only twitching or smacking his lips for motion. He did snore quite loudly at times. In the morning, the Elf apologized, "Old friend, thus far I have come unbidden and not asked how I can help you. Please, tell me what I can do."

Shurran had already given him tea. He took a long pull and rose, looking around the room before saying, "I do not need anything, Nag Kath. But I do appreciate that you are not taking this new world as your due. Even as cleanly as Sauron and his ilk were excised, you are right to beat the hustings for what may have been left behind in haste."

He took another long pull and said, "But now you should tell me the real reason you are here."

The Elf smiled, "I should not flatter myself that I yet have tact. Very well, I did not gallop off to Mordor in search of lordly campfire stories. I was drawn there by powerful and yet benevolent sorcery far beyond my ken." The story of Orlo took nearly a bell. Radagast drank in every word. Shurran had not heard this version with gardens that weren't and walls long crumbled. Nag Kath pulled the sheaf of papers with the enigmatic Orlo grinning on the top sheet.

Radagast did as everyone else had; looking intently, seeing something familiar, only to talk himself out of recognition. Nag Kath watched every line on his face. When the wizard looked back to him and shook his head, the Elf said, "I think that is only his appearance to me."

The wizard said firmly, "I see a man of wisdom and mirth, in their measure. That is only what you remembered. There may be even more you did not consider at the time."

"That thought will not leave me. I am certain to return. The spirit of those people kept them from fighting, dying and possibly winning at the Pelennor and Morannon. They are brave, so it was not cowardice that kept them from the field."

Radagast smiled, "You have time. Go forth. Do as Gandalf counseled. You will discover your answers."

The wizard started sorting through the other sheets, perhaps looking for more birds. Then he stopped with a look of abject horror. Radagast jerked his face up at Nag Kath, back at the picture and to the Elf again. In barely more than a whisper, "Where did you see this?"

It was the cruel Elf. Nag Kath answered, "I saw him in Galadriel's mirror a few years ago. The Elf-keeper told me it was still in Caras Galadhon when I visited. I saw several faces. This was the last and strongest. Do you know him?"

"Oh, by Eru himself, I do indeed. This is not your usual work, Nag Kath."

"The image was unclear, as were the others. Whether they were past or future I can not say."

Radagast shook his head yet again, "This is the face of Melkor, lo I have not imagined it this way since before time."

"I know not of him, worried sir."

"You know him as Morgoth."

Dinner that night had no idle chat. Radagast found all of his energy and asked every possible question about the cold, handsome Elf of the sketch. The wizard was troubled. It might be nothing; a floating image no worse than one of the forsaken thousands staring to the sky in the Dead Marshes. If the original and darkest of lords had been consigned to the void, might there not be residual enough to visit magic mirrors?

The wizard wracked his brain; why would he come to Nag Kath, Nag Kath his last living Uruk-hai?! Was Arwen right? Was he the unwitting servant of one who would make his way back to the hell he created? Did Radagast have the strength to kill him now and snuff the risk?

He decided he did have the strength and would not. As he had told himself a thousand times, Melkor could never have drawn those tiny birds.

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