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

32. Chapter 32 Temple of Water

Chapter 32

The Templeof Water

~o~

Kieff, Fondiscar and Onathal were sitting at the governor's desk when the Elf arrived at the official start of the government day. He joined them without the usual bowing and protocol. Onathal was spryer than last he saw him and nodded to the city works manager who started, "Mr. Kath, I went back to the Hall of Records to see if I could find anything else commissioned by your Mr. Yvsuldor at about the same time." He smiled, "Put the archivists to work. They are still at it."

Fondiscar took a sip of tea, which reminded the governor his guest had not been served so he poured a mug and slid it across the desk. After his sip the manager continued, "Several gourds washed up here on Eärnil, straight across from the main well."

It seemed to those present that Nag Kath's sigh took an eternity. The Elf leaned back in his chair looking at the ceiling before gathering himself and saying, "Mr. Fondiscar, you are the very best of servants for the good of your people. Let us see your well"

All four of them went along with two hulking guards. People lined-up with water buckets made room but most stayed to see the august company. The winch-horse was stopped as the Elf walked up to the trough. Nag Kath did not often use sorcery in common view but he made an exception here. Civilians were asked to leave. The knife showed blue. No one left expected him to dump the bucket over his head. He raised his hand to the heavens and turned silver. Slowly the water about him evaporated into steam with a sickly green vapor swirling about his chest and flowing from his arm into the ether.

The effect ended and he knelt where he stood in the little puddle, staying there for fully a minute with his head down, eyes closed. Nag Kath rose normally and smiled to the lordly host saying wanly, "We should repair to your office, governor.

On their way in, the Elf asked for a pitcher of tea, knowing it had been brewed with Sirith water. He drank half of it in a swig, swishing it in his teeth several times. Then he folded in the same chair he had earlier and looked at the eyes looking at him. Speaking to no one in particular he started, "Gentlemen, this was not supposed to be common knowledge but you are the lords of this realm and deserve to know.

"I was in Mordor a few years ago to destroy a warlord bearing a ring of power." By now some of them knew. "They were a hapless lot trying to resurrect the dark lords of that land. This warlord was the chosen by a much older group, the descendants of Sauron's higher servants, I believe led by the Witch-King. They called themselves the Yvsuldor in the dark days." He smiled grimly, "It seems they have a taste for nuppers.

"They are all dead now, but I believe there is a source of power waiting for direction, holding the near-dead in thrall. We see it in the marches, Dunland, the Barrows, probably others, men and beasts that will not die. Your water is tainted by a pit used to make the fell-beasts. It might have never been found except the top of a mountain collapsed and now the river washes through it."

Nag Kath swallowed another slug of tea and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I believe that foul water is drawn to your harbor by whatever was, or is, under that temple. Mr Fondiscar, please keep looking for more of them, and I need to see every scrap of paper in those files again. I do not know if I have the power to defeat what may be found. Elves and other wizards capable of such feats are long gone. And if I can, wide berth will be needed for brave men to bear it away. I know not where."

The governor listened carefully and now said, "First things first." He called to a guard, "Send in Scribe Waltath." The scribe, one of the civilians here the first time Nag Kath came, was waiting in the hall and bustled over to take notes. Onathal continued, "That main well is condemned. I want all available workmen to bring in water from the greater Sirith channel for the southern arrows as far up as they can get it. All public events on Eärnil and Faithful are to be moved to suitable facilities elsewhere. Folk with complaints of the type we know are to be treated with such supply of those herbs as we can manage. Ask the healers if others remedies will serve."

The governor took a big gulp himself. Watching sorcery dries the palate. "Lord Kath, can you stay?"

"I think I should, sir. But I need to send a long letter to his Highness by fast rider. Mr. Kieff, can you detach young Lieutenant Houlmanath as my aide and find us quarters here on this island with a meeting room?" Kieff nodded. "Governor Onathal, I am at your command. I will make sure you are notified of my progress at your convenience."

The governor held his chin and finished, "There will be no containing this. I would rather look busy than stupid. Mr. Kieff, devise how to salve the worries of our people without them deserting their homes and farms."

"Yes, governor."

"That is all for now."

As Nag Kath and Kieff were leaving the soldier said, "Oh, nice party. Our hostess was lovely." Not all 'old friend's widows' were so comely.

~o~

Houlmanath's first assignment was to find clothes in Nag Kath's size. After pumpkins, undead vapors and Sauron's water, the bulk of his wardrobe should be burned. He had one last set of outer and underwear at the inn and he changed before checking out and reporting to his new quarters.

There was tension in the street. People sensed something was wrong. It wasn't actually worse than it had been for a year but some knowledge was more dangerous than none. Nag Kath and his aide went back to the temple. It had already been blocked-off. The guard outside started to say, "Sir, this building is closed until …" before realizing these were two of the few who had business here.

Houlmanath has still not gotten the blast of sorcery off the roof of his mouth. He stared at the flooring and waited for the Elf to say something. Nag Kath didn't. He stared too, wondering what could be down there. Was it living? Had it lived? Was it just nastiness in the arsenal of doom? One thing was certain, they had to be ready.

Fondiscar appropriated all of the records and had them sent to the Elf's quarters. They arrived before he returned from the temple. He started with the drawing of the floor stones. Houlmanath, who seemed to have Tumlen's ability to find anything fast, produced a large fire glass for examining the papers in detail. The floor-stone layout in the picture was different than on the ground. Was the difference between them the message?

At the late twelve-bell, Nag Kath wandered into his room. Houlmanath was snoring. The Elf shook him into another position and tried to sleep-off the water sorcery of the morning. He would finish his letter to the King first thing and have a note sent to Phylless. Today was supposed to be a cordial tea with the governor.

~o~

He slept well. The aide rolled over and snored again but Nag Kath didn't notice. He would insist his soon-to-be-promoted First Lieutenant get his own bunk. The letter to the King, in Sindarin, took half a bell for a single draft, scribbles, and mistakes included with a few pictures. He could tell Ambassador Reyald as much of this as he wanted.

His note to his lover was just that there was new excitement and he would visit when he could, or she could ride down and tear him away from his labors. Yes, Houlmanath needed his own room, but not until after he sent a messenger with authority to demand mounts at every changing station from here to Minas Tirith, and should see if the King was at his farm on the way by. The rider took the note to Phylless on his way out. This city works man who surprised them at the temple asked for and got some of Nag Kath's time about moving water inside the city. There was no slope to work with. The man had actually seen the aqueduct which helped in his deliberations. With respect; the statue was a poor likeness!

In the streets, people were taking things well. Kieff tactfully spread the story that taint from a tributary on the other side of the Anduin was causing a mild palsy here. Folk should get their water from the Sirith. Most of them did anyway. Only the better-heeled citizens were affected and they immediately solved the engineer's problem by contracting with barge drivers to take on ballast at the north point and pour it into troughs near the tethered barges that created the floating drawbridges. The cause and what was under the flagstones was still closely known. Folk complained but cooperated.

After lunch, Governor Onathol called a meeting including yesterday's men and four new ones. Colonel Vondenbrand was head of the local marines. Ostensibly under Minas Tirith control, he and his fathers had swept this area of Umbars before and after the unmaking of the ring. He controlled river traffic. Mr. Kempas was counselor of the public good. His office had supervised emergency measures with the same pirates Vondenbrand fought on the water. Public granaries were in his portfolio and he knew the private ones too, including Maedegon Mills. Lestar Punith was the engineer Nag Kath met the day before about water. His men would get the wretched job of dismantling the temple. He needed to know what to tell them, and when. Finally there was Lupar of the Guardi, Vondenbrand's opposite number on land. They were more police than soldiers but would have to fight whatever came out of that hole.

Kieff had already explained the situation in a morning meeting. This was about what to do. They talked for an hour with sensible questions and answers. None among them tried to be heroic or pompous or claim another's responsibility. Onathol had chosen his advisors well. When the conversation played-out, the governor said, "Lord Kath, what do you recommend?"

"First, sir, I think you are doing the right things now. Men should start dismantling that temple with great care not to disturb the floor. Tainted blocks can be stored on barges until we decide the best way to destroy them."

Kieff broke in, "It seems there are other herbs that can be used effectively. Word has already been sent to Osgiliath for more stores."

Nag Kath continued, "Sir, I will need to study what I can for guidance. If there are private libraries of Elvish texts, perhaps their owners can be persuaded to share?"

Onathal nodded to Kieff and Lupar. Then he cracked his knuckles and said to his scribe, "Prepare a council for the other four District Marshals in Lalomen as soon as possible. I want them to keep their ground free of troubles while we wrestle with this confusion, particularly Lebennivet. They get this water after we do. Lestar, we will need your stout lads to start taking those buildings down.

"Anything else? Dismissed.

Back at the Elf's quarters, Houlmanath did himself proud. A full wardrobe of quality apparel in Nag Kath's size was hanging or folded, including boots and shoes. He found a stall for Charlo too. The young officer was not a handman so his seconding would have more soldierly duties soon. Nag Kath told him to commandeer a horse after making sure the lad could ride.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The slow part had begun. Nag Kath took the rest of the day off to see Phylless. She had learned not to worry about her men but her new one was of the school that honored their partners. "I got your note. Thank you for that. I take it there are more troubles?"

"You could say that."

"You don't say much, do you?"

"I am sorry, dear Phyll. It is an old habit. I often find myself in neck-deep and do not want to jeopardize folk if I can avoid it. There are troubles, but the governor has good men and this will pass. How are you?"

"All agreed the party was a success, even if it does celebrate me being less young." She said suggestively, "I think I am holding up rather well."

He smiled, "We shall put that to the test shortly." More seriously, "I may be here much longer than anticipated. This was supposed to be a three-day stop to see Lentaraes. It went much better, but now there is you, and you are holding up so well."

She smiled too. "Thank you."

He said, "I could see this lasting some time, but I travel at need. How do you see your future?"

Oh my! She hadn't considered this conversation. Without knowing it, Phylless Maedegon was in a much stronger position than most of the Elf's loves. She had means. She could ride. She liked adventure. She wasn't much concerned about propriety. Nag Kath seemed to have resources and a deal more standing than she first thought. And when he said he could not father children; that was to the good in her ledger.

On the other end of the scale, would he abandon her as she aged? Phyll was practical about that. She would be old anyway so why start sooner than she had to? Mother and father were across the river and she did not want to be away from them for long periods. No, part of Nag Kath was better than all of most men. She knew that well enough. And she did not have to make any decisions while he was here.

She would have dragged him upstairs but he started pouring over his trove from the junkman. The Elf appropriated the large table and spread his treasures out according to the language, starting with the ones written in the strange, ornate script. Phylless was smart but a poor reader. On the river, women were seldom taught to read even their own tongue but merchants' daughters could always count. Watching her thumb-through the texts reminded him that a trip to the spectacle-maker was in order if she wasn't too proud.

They had dinner out that night. A pub just down the strand had blue Odar baked with their secret recipe. It was sublime with one of the wines from Caragost that was pale rather than red. They walked it off going home. The servants knew not to be underfoot or hear too much. Yes, she thought later, this was fine for now.

~o~

Nag Kath was a working man. Before she woke he was already on Charlo heading for the island. Men would start removing stones today. They did not know why but he wanted to be there for surprises. There were none, other than a man crushing his thumb. Nag Kath was able to save it. The beautiful, tainted blocks from the temple were hauled on wagons to the drawbridge and loaded on barges waiting in the still water around the monument. Even with a full crew, it would be a week to remove them since they could not just knock the walls over and pick-up the pieces.

He kept coming back to the floor stones; one drawn, one built. They were different shades of gray. Did they form a symbol, a number? It would be something too simple to understand. A thought formed in his mind; Orlo! Something to do with the old wizard in Rhûn, what did he say? "Lieutenant!"

The Elf put his boots on and collected Charlo from Houlmanath. A block before the Healing Guild office he tethered his mount to a post and walked the rest of the way. He did not want them to hear the clatter of hooves before he showed. The same little girl was counting deej berries to put in little sacks. Since he paid cash, she climbed off the stool and collected her granna in person. The old woman came to the counter and said, "I guess you found him, then."

"In plain sight, ma'am."

"I already told you, the man is not in the Guild."

"Nor should he be. I need to find someone who is, someone who can draw."

"Young man, I need to explain that is a dangerous profession. Not everyone who comes here on a government horse appreciates that."

So much for sneaking up. Trying not to make it sound like a threat, Nag Kath said, "You have a sweet granddaughter. Is there something in the back she can get for you?"

The blonde came up coppers last time so she took the risk, "Dear, would you go count those thistle leaves for me?"

The child smiled and said, "Of course, granna." Thistle was next to the sweet-cane stalks.

The Elf knew he would get little from the old woman without extensive vetting on her part and a sizeable bribe. Bribes he had. Time he didn't. Confusing her would not get her best recommendation either. His right hand slowly turned silver as he touched her hand. The pain of arthritis in her twisted fingers disappeared. His hand changed back to its usual color as he put his elbows on the counter.

"I need the best. Soon. He pulled a nipper out of his vest and slid it across the wood. "Now you know I'm not the sort to cause trouble with the guardi. You split that any way you like but I mean; soon."

Against every instinct she had, she left the quarter Florin on the counter and looked up to meet his eyes for a moment before saying, "No one gets hurt?"

"That's right"

"Who's the patient?"

"Me."

She slid the coin into her smock pocket and said, "Still at the Navigator?"

He pulled a slip of paper and stub pencil from his tunic and scribbled Phylless' address. "First thing tomorrow, she is there to help a gentleman with a sore knee." He wasn't sure he needed to add this but did, "I am sure you won't disappoint." The old woman did not look like here feelings were hurt.

When he reached Phylless' house she gave him a kiss and whispered, "My monthly bill arrived today."

That could be touchy. A lot of men would leave for the week or leave for good. He kissed her behind the ear and said, "What would you like to do for dinner?"

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

City-center bells were faint here, but about nine in the morning there was a meek knock at the door. Vergere opened it and let her in, knowing she was expected, a slip of a woman with a large straw hat carrying a carpet bag. She was shown into the picture room and asked to wait. A few minutes later, Nag Kath walked in with a tea pitcher and closed the door behind him. Under no circumstance was anyone to open it no matter what they heard. He gave her a friendly smile and said, "Please, sit right there." She did with the bag at her feet. He sat in the chair next to hers and said, "My name is Nag Kath. Have you heard of me?"

She nodded slowly, "Kath of the Water. Folk call me Scilla."

"It is good to meet you, Scilla. Can you tell me your gift?"

That was a hard one. She could pull an infection and heal deep bruises, so a bit better than average. But Mrs. Millitosh said this one drew pain from her bones so he was strong, stronger than anyone she had ever heard of. The problem was, Kath of the Water was from Osgiliath and two known witches from there were now dead as Durok. She also couldn't bluff her way out since he could not be fooled. Scilla needed the money so she took the risk.

"Fair. Bruises, cholic, hangover, the usual. What's wrong with you?"

She would do. He pointed at the pitcher and said, "That's vou tea if you need it. Have you ever countered a confusion spell?"

Oh no! Wasn't that what old Mrs. Ingralls did before she was poisoned? No, she caused them, not cured them. This was still dangerous. Scilla rasped, "No sir. Never done that."

The Elf sat back and said, "Then, I'm going to teach you. What was your split?"

He did not say of the nipper because that certainly never came up. Normally she would tell anyone who asked to mind their own business, or something more colorful. Not this one, "I got two silvers."

So; a fifth-share. The Elf reached in his pocket and gave her five more. "Scilla, let me tell you what I need. Seven years ago, I was fooled by a sorcerous glamour of great power. It was for the good. A much stronger wizard tried to give me a message but I could not tell at the time. I will try to show you how to pull that memory from me. I have never done this before. It should be safe and easy on you. Whether it works or not, you keep the money and maybe learn something you can use. Is that fair?"

Scilla blinked and gulped; ascent of sorts.

He added, "And this stays between us?"

"You got that right!"

"Please, give me your right hand."

A bony wrist slowly made it halfway there. He took it with one hand and put his other alongside her face. She only saw the hand on her wrist but it glowed! What seemed like an instant later, he released her. Scilla's head was a bit clearer. She wasn't so afraid of the towering blonde sorcerer either. He asked her, "Did you feel how I did that?"

With a strange confidence she said, "I think so. You were anchored in water and pulled in high from the neck vein and temple, yes?"

"Very good. I will do that again and I would like you to think of something you know you knew but can't remember anymore." He did it again but held the spell almost half a minute.

When it was over she said, "I still don't remember. I saw what was around me but not what I was supposed to do."

"That might be good enough. "Now, you try. Do not let the wrist pulse confuse what you tell from my neck. Just for a moment, at first." Scilla had to move her carpetbag out of the way but she turned to the much taller healer and placed her hands as he had done to her. It was weaker and she only held the draw for a few seconds but she could tell something exchanged.

He said, "I've had to use that twice on people afflicted with a lostorin binder, made me sick as a dog. When someone is fine, it hardly leaves a trace. Now I would like you to try for as long as you can, stop if you become dizzy."

She took the same position and did her best, holding the spell for a quarter of a minute. Scilla was in no pain or confusion but the drawing felt complete. The strange man turned to a ready pad and pencil and furiously drew what looked like an eastern counting rack. She did not see that. What else was in that head? The blonde man quickly drew the little balls in position and then took a huge breath. She asked, "Can I have some of that tea?" He poured them both mugs. She drained about half of hers but was not ill.

Then the sorcerer said, "That was all I needed. Take it from me; you do not want to be known for the confusion side of that spell."

"I heard."

He rose, "Thank you for coming Scilla."

She lived, with another five silvers to boot! Her luck had never been that good. Scilla thanked him through a fog of new confidence as he showed her the door. Walking back to the room, he put his stocking feet on the low table with his hands behind his head.

~o~

Phylless minded his request to keep away while the healer was here but she was down the stairs the moment the door closed. Her Elf looked disgustingly pleased with himself. "Well, aren't you the cat that ate the mouse!"

He just sat there looking at the ceiling with that silly grin. Had the woman turned him witless and emptied his pockets? "Naaaaaag?"

He blinked and looked at her, "Sorry Phyll. I have a great deal on my plate."

"I should say. Did you learn anything?"

"I am not sure. I am going to find out. Are there any shops nearby that are owned by eastern people, Rhûn, Khand maybe?"

"They are everywhere. I think Voulad the baker on Vue Robald comes from there."

"Then come with me, dear woman. We will do some counting."

~o~

The man was beyond irritating. The healer had made him simple! He asked the price for four loaves and then wondered if he added two of the little rolls and took away one of the full loaves how much that would be. The poor baker's wife clicked the little balls on her bead rack for each of five possibilities until the insufferable creature finally said, "Fine, I will take four loaves and two rolls and give you another ten groats for your clacker." That got him an almost toothless smile as the woman put the loaves in Phylless' shopping sack and the handsome couple strolled back with far more bread than they could possibly eat, him chuckling at his bargaining prowess all the while!

She did not know whether to be amused or vexed. Managing to put the slightest trace of humor in her question, she asked, "And that solves the problems of Pelargir?"

He became serious very quickly. "If I can use what I learned, it might save thousands of lives."

~o~

Phylless had some thinking to do. At first she thought him a charming artist with certain physical talents. Then she thought him a foolish boaster with certain, well, talents. Then she discovered that his most absurd yarns were actually true. The man who brought his note had a King's mail patch on his shoulder, the highest authority to commandeer horses and food from anyone at any hour. And now he was fair silly because he overpaid for a clacker? Phyll was thought she had one in the cupboard that a Swerting gardener left behind. As soon as they got home, the Elf took his new toy to the Dukks table in the picture room and matched the beads with his drawing from the healer. Then he took two more drawings from his satchel and compared the pattern of the beads to the flagstones, both in the original drawing and his sketch.

Phylless sat next to him still trying to understand that infuriating smile. He knew she was there but his mind was elsewhere. He remembered the old boatwright showing him the simple counting device in the imaginary compound;

He placed the beads according to his count and showed

it to Nag Kath saying, "There, now you can remember."

The beads looked nothing like either pattern. Orlo had shown him the device held flat. Some of his beads were spaced apart rather than correctly up or down. Nag Kath did not get frustrated like men. It was only one more way not to be right. He had Vergere bring a handful of tooth twigs from the kitchen and stuffed them in the oversized bead holes to hold them in place. Setting the rack on its edge, he studied it for several more minutes while Phyll thought of a graceful way to leave. He shook his head and rose from the table, catching it with his thigh and knocking the clacker over.

Cook made lamb, Phylless' favorite. Nag Kath ate one of the rolls. They said little at the large dining table. Even the servants knew not to speak. Saruman's trip hammer was pounding in Nag Kath's head. It was there. It must be there. He saw the clacker just as the old man had shown him, storing that pattern in his brain until it could be remembered at need. He wondered if he had been given a message to be remembered with a clarity spell of another sorcerer. Later he took Phyll upstairs and held her chastely. No one had ever done that before.

She was uncomfortable. Normally her cycle made her irritable but did not always come with the cramping many women suffered. This was one of the bad days. The Elf nestled behind her and reached his lower hand under her face and his top hand over her womb. It the pitch black she saw a silver glow coming from the hand on her belly that was met by the faintest yellow at his fingertips. She thought she was dreaming. Then she slept.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

He was up with the dawn. Cook was too, but didn't the ungracious pleasure-man understand that fires had to be lit and water drawn? He was always polite and therefore mildly forgiven, but why couldn't he sleep late like rich people? Phylless was up earlier than usual too. That spell only lasts so long. She still thought it a dream but felt she was through the worst.

Nag Kath wandered into the picture room holding his chin and staring at the clacker he knocked upside-down. Realization slowly dawned and he yelled at the top of his voice, "By the scaly balls of Glaurung!"

Phyll and the servants ran headlong to the hall in time to see Nag Kath stuff the clacker and pictures into his satchel and speed past them out the door. He called behind him he might be a while. For anyone else, a guardi would have charged a fine for riding a horse that fast inside the walls.

~o~

Despite the speed, governor Onathal was already in his opening staff meeting with Kieff, several of the folk from the water meeting and two more functionaries. Nag Kath told the guard he was here and had something folk inside would want to see. That would have gotten anyone else a buttocks-and-collar escort down the front steps but the tall blonde man was to be heard. The guard opened the door and the Elf walked inside to bow.

Onathal looked over and told the unneeded advisors they would take this up another time. Then he nodded for Nag Kath to sit. The Elf said, "Sirs, I have to beg your indulgence for a long story. I can only say now it will be worth it."

He outlined preparations for the Dorwinion campaign and the little man in the fantasy garden, a powerful wizard, perhaps as potent as his mentor Gandalf. That name still meant a lot on the Anduin. He described how Orlo had put the clacker in his face after calculating nothing at all. Kieff would know part of the next bit, "I hired a healer to go back in my memory to produce the exact arrangement of the beads. They are as shown here." He pulled the device from his satchel. "They meant nothing. I compared them to the flagstones as they were intended and as actually put in place. Nothing.

"Then the clacker fell over on the front side. The pattern from behind is the symbol of Orlo, of right-living combined with Patience and Calm." He admitted, "More or less, like how we embellish a constellation. That is the emblem of those who have quietly opposed Sauron for thousands of years.

"The original symbol means nothing to us because it is not for us. It was facing down to whatever is under that stinking dirt. This picture from the file is how it was meant to be installed. Inverted, and read from the bottom we have Fûl, symbol of power. The one next to it is Patience. The third; War.

"I believe the Righters replaced the original floors with their own design, then covered them over with the stones they removed to hide their own message. The reason they are upside-down is because they are not a message to those walking above. It is a ward against something beneath them. Those flagstones kept allies of Sauron from coming forth to join his armies.

"May I respectfully suggest, sir, that we leave stop removing the stones, lest even one of them falls and cracks that floor."

The men around the table just looked at each other. Having fell servants constrained had to be good, but that meant they were dangerous and powerful when unleashed. And all the while, sewage from Mordor was pouring into the Great River against little more than nettle tea! The governor said gravely, "I will write a letter to the King myself. With troubles in Ithilien and now here, this is for Gondor to solve. Every man here; do your duty and may the Valar bless and keep our sovereign."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Captain Vondenbrand was displeased. His family had lived on Eärnil for six generations. He was not about to start taking old women's elixirs for sleep sweating. This was just the latest niggling thorn on top of his barren wife's recent malcontent. Few babes had been born to any women in the better districts this year.

He believed Onathal would not come out of this well. Surrounded by blood Princes west and east plus the King himself barely a hundred miles north, Lebennin was disdained, merely a way to get from one important place to another. And now there was this beardless exquisite, who looked like a singer from Dol Amroth, ordering the governor to stay his hand and leave a bad situation for better men! For two days, Onathal had done nothing to protect his land. Vondenbrand would. He had the marines. He had the stomach. Lupar did not keep many of his guardi in the Quarter of the Faithful even now. The man would see the fitness of force.

His only problem was Kieff. Smart, loyal, incorruptable; Kieff knew every ear in the city. One thing Onathal could do was keep a secret. The Captain's Lieutenants would know little of the governor's womanish inaction. When ordered, they would fly to the threat. A hundred twenty stout marines surrounding that squalid little temple could manage whatever came out. Sauron was dead. Power now belonged to men of the west!

Vondenbrand called his chiefs the next morning, except for Vespule and Kalägin who were on ships patrolling the Ethir Anduin. He cleared his throat, "Gentlemen, the governor asked us to settle a problem. I call upon your discretion. A foolish foreigner claims one of the little temples along the Walk of the Faithful is cursed. Officially we are to leave it be. Unofficially, the marines are called to destroy it and put paid to any notion of sorcery before common men riot. Jrondigad, Ithel, I want your men ready at dusk tomorrow. Bows, swords and pikes. Lebellid, the flagstones of the temple need to be removed. Have a dozen stout men ready with pry-bars and picks. It is the third temple from the west. Most of the walls have already been removed. We meet there at half-past the six-bell. That is all.

"Uread, a moment." The quartermaster held back until the room emptied, "What ever happened to the smuggler Dousou?"

"Nothing. Kieff made it plain that he would go back to his strumpets on the Ethir or pay his shipping taxes."

"Spread the word he is back."

Uread, Vondenbrand's most political officer, tilted his head slightly. His Captain counseled, "The old men have had their turn, eh?"

Uread nodded just as slightly and saw to his labors, not knowing that Kieff was downstream talking with river-men there..

The next day saw nothing surprising. Two guardi stood vigil over the remaining temple during the day but did not interfere with folk visiting the others. Phylless was feeling herself again and took it out on the defenseless Elf when he rode to her house after a long day in the archives. Meanwhile, Vondenbrand and his officers approached the two fresh guardi sentries. He told them, "Soldiers, we are called to action. This floor must be destroyed to counter the threat beneath. Can I count on your bravery?"

They both snapped to attention in assent. The Colonel nodded to the men who would remove the floor and they started hammering and picking with a will. It wasn't two minutes later that they were all retching and puking with eyes and nostrils burning in pain. Lebellid told the same number of men to get in there and complete the work. They were fouled too but the first men took the worst. They recovered and twelve men piled the flat stones away from the center of the temple.

Had Nag Kath been there instead of in Phylless' arms, his magic eyes would have seen black and green plumes rising from the stink. A hundred apple-sized spiders scurried about from the surprise and then burrowed into the rank mud. And that was all. Two companies of marines stood-by staring at the festering ground. After a few minutes, archers were told to un-nock but hold at the ready. Fifteen minutes later, even the mud spiders were buried. Vondenbrand tried to recover some dignity from his bold action against the blonde alarmist and called, "Well done lads. Someone will pay for calling us here under false pretenses!" More softly to his officers, "Send them home. We'll considering this at the morning meeting." Men trudged to turn-in their weapons before finding a public house in the fading light.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

What the vainglorious Colonel did not know is that trolls do not wake until well after the sun goes down, especially trolls who have been sleeping for thousands of years. By the nine-bell, the mud spiders would have alerted them that the ward spell had been broken. It was time to come forth. They were two of the large, old trolls, a cross between cave and mountain beasts common at the time of their creation. Slow and stiff after their long nap, they clawed their way to the surface for air. No one was about in the temple sector after dark. Naked and unarmed, they could see lights in the homes of their next meal.

Vondenbrand got one thing right; Sauron was dead. These lads were of the Witch-King and knew nothing of the dark lords' reduced circumstances. That did not matter now. They were fierce and hungry, perfect for their intended role.

They moved north to find water. A closed public trough served. Gate posts were wrenched from the ground as cudgels. Another block down they reached the home and shop districts. One of them slammed his post through a door while the other bashed the hole large enough for them to fit. It was not enough so they hammered the walls to shake the screaming residents down. The parents were eaten. The children were in the rubble.

Guardi whistles began shrieking throughout the Quarter, followed closely by horns sounding for armed troops. It was of no moment to the trolls who saw people fleeing on foot and easier dining in the row apartments. Gate archers fired on them but the arrows could not penetrate their thick hides. A few that hit flush stuck head deep, fleabites to the twenty-five foot monsters as they crushed anything in their way and sent cinders into the night. The alarm was now sounding city-wide through a series of horns and bells to identify the quarter in jeopardy. It just so happened that two companies of marines were unexpectedly in town. In various states of sobriety, they returned to the armory and reclaimed the weapons held only a few hours before.

Pelargir generally and the Faithful particularly had mostly stone or brick buildings but the roof rafters and interiors were of wood. Slate roofs resisted burning debris but structures further from fire ballista ships in the river were flammable. Those homes and shops became furnaces inside their stout walls.

Lieutenant Ithel was first to the drawbridge between the Eärnil and the Faithful. He could see the fires but realized this was what his men were to stop before finding the ale-houses. Ithel ordered his troops across and that the bridge barge was to be pulled open so no one else could get across. With luck, the commander of the Ancient Quarter guardi would make the same choice above.

~o~

Nag Kath heard the whistles, and then the horns. He abandoned his lover and ran to the house roof trying to get a glimpse of the trouble. In later recollections he was not sure if he felt the presence or heard the troll scream. Flying downstairs he dressed, got his bow and sword and saddled Charlo with the 'fast'.

The fastest way to get to the fires was through Eärnil. He took the Ancient Market road instead thinking that would be the last drawbridge to isolate the Faithful triangle. There would be the drawbridge on the other side but that was the problem from Eärnil too. The decision gave him a broad avenue from one side of the arrow to the other but it was poorly lit. Charlo had to trust him.

By now, Vondenbrand had mustered the remaining marines on Eärnil and ordered two patrol boats off main Sirith to contain trouble on the bank. Unlike Ithel, he did not suspect more than a fire or pirates run amok. Reaching the drawbridge, he ordered it winched for crossing and waited while the terrified horses were calmed enough to pull. Most of the other sixty men along with thirty guardi ran across as soon as the barge touched the stationary pier.

~o~

Onathol and his house guard of another forty were not five minutes behind. Vondenbrand stopped to survey the wreckage behind the northbound trolls long enough for the governor to reach him. Onathol shouted, "What happened?!"

A wounded guardi struggling back from the fires yelled, "Trolls, sir. Two of them. Big as sin and powerful. They are fighting their way towards the Ancient. Onathol turned to his aide and said, "See if that temple is breached." The man was off like a rocket and back three minutes later.

"The floor is gone."

"Dougsh! Hornsman, sound 'open the drawbridge'!" He knew if the monsters had crossed, no one could obey.

Nag Kath heard the horn but did not know the various calls of the city. He was pushing Charlo across the moveable middle section as men on both sides began to untie the cleat ropes. Not yet! He kicked Charlo and put his head down hoping to make the span before it pulled away from the permanent foundations. Fortunately, those bridges were meant for routine traffic, not emergencies, and he only had to jump five feet as the center barge lumbered alongside the pier.

The trolls had stayed to the lit sections of the quarter and were now closing on the navigational Guilds and mausoleums near dense residential sections. One of them roared in pain as a toe split in the rampage bled a trail of black. Following the window candles had the creatures boxed-in near where Nag Kath had just crossed.

He saw them. How did they escape? Was it lifting that flagstone the other day? No matter now. There were these two and who knew how many nearer the temple. Boats along the quay were filling with townspeople and making for the other side. The wind was against them from the north so they tacked east as hard as the sails could hold, trying to make the Eärnil. Most subjects were trapped. Ithel's company closed from the south past the great monuments near the base of the arrowhead. Archers were told to only shoot if they had a chance of hitting the beasts' eyes. One of them had as the monster's hunger turned to rage. Like Nag Kath, they were made to die.

~o~

Ithel had not met Nag Kath but a charitable interpretation of Vondenbrand's description told him this was the one who understood what actually happened. The Elf approached him and shouted over the din, "How many of them are there?"

"Just these two. They've burned a swath up from the temple sector. I think we have turned them towards the Eärnil bridge. I ordered it left apart."

The tall blonde man seemed collected and surveyed the bridge sector before asking, "Are there any ballista?"

"Nay, only on the Anduin corner-points and those face the river."

What neither knew was that Vondenbrand did not order the bridge-barges separated when he crossed. Eärnil was wide open if the trolls turned the corner and made east. They did know the beasts would be trying to flee and that was the path of least resistance. The Elf said, "Lieutenant, you have no idea who I am but I hope you will take your men back to the bridge. I will ride there now and make what I can of the ground." When Nag Kath arrived, the bridge was still in place. He screamed for the men on the other side to winch it apart. When they stalled, he used his Gandalf-voice and the two men whipped up the horses.

It would not be in time. The trolls rounded the bend of the center triangle and were bearing down with nothing in their way. Nag Kath turned his horse and gathered himself before projecting in the Black Speech for all to hear, "Stop now. Your work is complete."

They did stop to look at each other. Then they decided Charlo was the tastiest thing on this miserable island and began limping towards him. Nag Kath slid off his horse and slapped him hard across the rump. He climbed the drain-spout of the three-story Pilot's League building. One troll was looking side-to-side as his one-eyed companion stared at the bridge.

Ithel's archers began shooting from the south which distracted the monsters enough for Nag Kath to put an arrow in the wounded troll's other eye. It bellowed in pain and anger, groping its way to the bridge. The other followed close to the building. When they were close enough, Nag Kath took a running leap astraddle the sighted beast's nose and buried his sword between its eyes, hilt-deep.

Not being terribly smart, trolls don't need their brains as much as men. It took a few seconds before the muscles and nerves realized they were dead. In that time, the monster waved his hands about his face as if shooing flies and knocked the Elf into the street and up against a cornerstone.

He could not move his legs. He could not feel them. Everything went black.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Eye-witness accounts agreed the blind troll rampaged along the canal bank doing considerable damage but not killing anyone else until the sun rose. A modern troll, one of the Olog-hais, could have withstood the breaking day. A two thousand year-old troll was only made for one night without finding shelter. With the dawn, his muscles began to solidify, followed by his bones and finally his internal organs. He toppled into a bank of market stalls.

Two hundred seventeen people were lost that night. Twice that many were hurt, mostly burned. A goodly number of marines were numbered in those tallies. Nag Kath wasn't found for a few hours. His crumpled body was breathing but his back was clearly broken. Men carried him as unbent as they could to a stretcher and he was evacuated with the wounded soldiers back to Eärnil. His Elvish regeneration could not pull separated spinal bones back together. He lay unconscious as healers occasionally poured sips of water in his mouth. They knew it was only a matter of time.

While Nag Kath waited for Mandos, Onathol asked questions. Maybe the trolls had dug their way out, but they hadn't neatly piled the flooring stones near the entrance afterwards. It wasn't long until plenty of marines said they were ordered to destroy the circle in the center of the temple.

That night, Vondenbrand considered his father's sword, a fine weapon that had brought honor to their family for generations. He lovingly polished the blade as he had almost every night of service. Then he stood with the point to his chest and fell forward. Onathal later declared that his fortune be distributed among the survivors and the victim's families.

Nag Kath opened his eyes two days later. At first he stared at the ceiling and timed his breath. It was not strong. He tried to move but his body did not respond. An orderly saw him wake and rushed over. The creature was not expected to regain consciousness. In the armies of the Anduin, it was considered good luck to be aware in the final moments, to make peace and instruct one's heirs.

As the young woman approached he whispered, "Where am I hurt?"

She said nothing, instead hurrying to a doctor not far away. He came close and was asked the same thing.

"Your back, Lord Kath. It is broken just below your shoulder blades."

The Elf closed his eyes for the longest moment and said, "My jack … jacket."

The young woman fetched it from the stand at the footboard. He breathed, "Pocket … pockets."

There were several. First she found his counterfeit service insignias, then a notebook and pencil, a small sack of reddish leaves and finally several slips of paper in a strange eastern script. She had to hold them over his face since he could not turn. With what strength remained he croaked, "The woman, big woman, heals in … in …" The Elf coughed and specs of blood shot over his bedding. "Bring her." Then he slept.

~o~

When he woke the next morning, the powerful body healer was sitting at his bedside. The man had been kind to her so she came and waited. Phylless was sitting with her, knees together, hands folded; the universal female position of concern.

His lips would not unstick until the orderly gave him a sip of cold tea. "Hello, Phyll. Rough night."

She was near tears. The physicians said there was nothing that could be done for him. That he woke at all was amazing but would only lengthen his pain, if he felt anything at all. She found her courage and replied, "Rough night, Nag."

Then he said the healer's name incorrectly. She hovered over his face. Nag Kath concentrated very hard and said, "P, p, put bones together."

Beshugya of the Nûrad knew the bones would not rejoin. Men were not built that way. But the nice man asked and she would comply. The woman drew the blanket and sheet off and flipped the casualty like a rag doll so he was facing down. He did not moan or flinch. She tore his sleeping gown away and used her powerful arms and shoulders to push the lower half of his body in alignment with the top, asking for help from the doctor to keep the torso still. Nag Kath said nothing. They could not even be sure he was alive. Beshugya gently felt his spine to be sure the bones were touching, even if there was no connection between them.

With reactions ranging from astonishment to terror, Nag Kath's visitors watched his back glow pale silver, most intensely below his shoulders. His face grimaced in silent agony for nearly a minute until his body returned to its usual pale complexion. Then he slipped into deep sleep.

~o~

It was dark. No one was there except wounded soldiers in beds to either side. He tried to move his toes. He couldn't tell.

~o~

A different female orderly walked by in the morning with tea for the other wounded. Someone had covered his nakedness but he was still face down in the pillow. Nag Kath was able to turn his head and watch the pretty girl tend the others. Two beds over, she saw him looking at her and froze. Then she ran to get the head physician. He was in the other ward and took what seemed like forever to arrive but he knelt beside the bed and took the Elf's pulse. It was stronger. The doctor turned to the lass and said, "Help me roll him over, gently now."

She had never seen a naked man before, let alone touched one, but she did as told and put Nag Kath on his back. He was able hear his toes wiggle enough to make a scratching sound on the blanket.

~o~

Beshugya came every day for three weeks to align his back, always followed by his own healing. He sat up in the bed. In that time, Oronthal visited several times. Phylless was there every day, feeding him with a spoon. Sometimes she stayed in his quarters a few doors down. Kieff and Houlmanoth came by frequently, thought they were sore busy tending to the damage among the Faithful. The broken troll-stones were used to reinforce the breakwater at the western tip of the quarter. One workman spent two days chipping the fine Elvish sword out of the creature's head, though it would take a talented swordsmith to grind out the scratches.

~o~

When he was strong enough, Phylless took him home in a hired carriage and installed him in a bed brought to the picture room. Two weeks later he took his first steps. Beshugya kept coming even though her shop was suddenly very busy. Even Onathal was persuaded to have his balky back straightened by her understanding hands. Phylless read to him which improved her skills and he spent time on his hoard of big and small books, making sense of the old Sindarin.

Two months after the rampage, he was walking stiffly. Charlo was found the day after he was, grazing in the graveyard of the heroes along the western bank. It took a while to discover where he belonged but he made it back to the granary before his master did.

Nag Kath did not feel up to riding just yet so he took the long, slow walk to the government island. Kieff met him at the office and they shared tea. Houlmanath made full Lieutenant. He hadn't loosed a shot but he did take charge of the fire crews and saved quite a few folk trapped on burning streets. The only man responsible was quietly buried and his wife pensioned off among her people downstream. The rest of the officers were absolved with Ithel promoted to Captain. He earned it.

Elf and Lieutenant walked across the bridge to the Quarter of the Faithful. It would be a long time rebuilding and not the same. There was no cry to duplicate monuments for men who died so long ago. They would build a few new ones, though. The restaurant that served the delicious nuppers was untouched so they ordered a basket with fine ale to wash them down. Life would go on.

Nag Kath sprawled on Phyll's couch in the main room after walking both ways. The servants had softened their view of his being there, especially when personal letters from the King and Prince Faramir arrived with thanks with wishes for a speedy recovery. Lentaraes never got royal letters! Family and friends in Minas Tirith wrote too.

When Phylless got home from shopping, her Elf was still on the couch. He was now past sleeping but took more waking rest, sometimes twice a day. Making sure cook and Vergere were out if sight, she sat on the edge of the cushion and put her hand on Nag Kath's thigh. A soft kiss on his lips opened his eyes and she said, "Now that you are better …"

Phylless was curled against him. He woke her gently and said, "You have nurtured me back to health."

Thinking of the evening she smiled and said, "Yes, a complete recovery."

"Tomorrow we should have a picnic."

~o~

Nag Kath spent most of the next three weeks helping heal the injured. He learned to work with burns. Many people still needed help, even after his long convalescence. He also rode, ran, swam and built his strength, an unfair advantage for his kind, as Mrs. Skilleth pointedly told him. He enjoyed his time with Phylless. She marveled at how he could take her monthly pain away with the lightest touch.

By the end of October, the White City called. That night he held her close and said, "Phyll, I must return. I would dearly love for you to come with me. The only life I can offer you is what you have just seen. If you can find in it what you need, I hope you will become my wife."

Phylless had been expecting that for quite a while. She had grown a great deal in caring for the changeling, even if not quite ready for spectacles. The woman turned to face him and said, "Yes, but now you have to tell me all the things you haven't." He started. It took days. After confirmed reports of him leaping off a building and stabbing a troll in the forehead, the rest did not seem that outlandish. He treated her like a lady. That was enough.

As they prepared to go, she said, "I still get my stipend from the mill but I cannot help much up north. Can you afford this?"

The Elf looked like he was calculating how to make ends meet but he was really considering the cost of maintaining this home and the three servants. Nag Kath walked over to his satchel and returned with five gold Florin. When he dropped them in her palm he calculated, "That should keep the place up for a while and let you buy-out Missy from your niece, unless you would rather get a horse when we go by Lossarnach."

He did it again! Money hadn't come up in his explanation of wizards and orcs. He seemed to be doing all right. She was. But five full Kings lolling in his art bag? They would take the ferry upriver and get married in Minas Tirith near Syndolan Day. He had a few things to attend first. And her parents must come up!

Phyll put her foot down. Even though she knew many people who went up and down the river, she always imagined it to be like hiking through Dunland. Her parents were old! She told him firmly, "Mother and father are not fit for such a harsh trip!"

"Harsh? Dear Lady, taking the transport to the Rammas gate is like driving your living room with three good meals a day and plenty of Dukks. If they use man-carts, their feet don't even have to touch the ground. This time of year; seven days up, four back, we'll rent the boat both ways and you can have all your friends visit."

Phyll lost confidence for a moment. She was considering a move to one of what seemed several homes and realized how little she knew about the wide world. In a meek voice she murmured, "I won't know anyone there, Nag. Will I be alone?"

He grinned the famous Nag Kath grin, "You'll have more friends than I do. My mother hens will put you right." Mother hens? Who were they?

Missy stayed. Her niece loved that horse and rode her much more than Phylless. Phyll could get another. Most of her things stayed too, to be here when she came back, often, she imagined. The newly built River Goddess took them in comfort to the City of the King.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~