Chapter 35

Chûr

~o~

In the year 43 of the Fourth Age there was only one story. On March second, the Lady Arwen Undómiel presented the King with the Crown Prince, Eldarion Telcontar, a healthy baby boy. A general holiday was declared lasting two weeks. Taxes were suspended, rules were bent. Banners proclaimed the event as the city rejoiced.

The auspices were true. Aragorn would not be a single king followed by stewards. This was the line of Elessar, fabled jewel of Eärendil. Gondor and Arnor would be restored. Presents and well wishes flooded the city, so many that most were given to children who had nothing. Faramir and Éowyn came. Legolas came. Gimli arrived a few months later with a number of Shire Hobbits who made the long trip. The King stayed in the White City this year except for a brief trip to the horse farm. Everyone he needed to see came to him.

~o~

Shurran's romance did not go as well.

"She said no?"

"I did not ask. She was not ready."

"You need experience and confidence in a wife. That's not what gentry are supposed to want."

Shurran knitted his eyebrows and was considering a response when Uncle Nag continued, "You are so many different things; almost royalty, an heir, a working engineer, a soldier, well-traveled, not to mention your mad uncle." He grinned, "Any of those could come to the fore."

Leave it to the Elf to turn things upside down! Shurran did not need a homely society lass or rich father-in-law to move up in the world. He remembered the Khandian girls. What if a woman did not care for that? She might only marry to escape a horrid mother.

"Experienced and confident?"

"Aye, and it helps if they have more to do than worry and make doilies when you are away."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

In August the Kaths and Conaths were invited to a viewing of the Prince on the top of the prow. His naming day was still some time off but the lad was a healthy, cheerful sort and it helped for folk to know. It was the largest event up there since the King's coronation forty five years ago.

Everyone who was anyone and quite a few more crowded outside the lane that the King and Queen would walk. Tailors were booked months-out since everyone would be in their best. Nag Kath was tempted to avoid the crush but Phylless insisted. She did not mind crowds and wanted a look. Being tall, she had a better chance than many. They had preferred standing closer to the hall steps from the diplomatic area on the sixth so they squeezed in with Ardatha, Reyald and Shurran. Further towards the prow people were packed and helping themselves to mountains of food.

The royal couple was radiant; he; noble, grave and fit, she; lovely and gracious. Eldarion was carried by Aragorn and other than squinting in the sun, seemed to be in a good mood. Babies don't always appreciate the moment. He got a little fussy on the return trip. Aragorn handed him to his dry nurse who swept the lad back inside and then climbed the steps with the Queen to address the crowd.

"Good people of Gondor, Arnor and all of the places we call home, friends and neighbors come to visit and share the Queen's and my joy, thank you for being here to see young Prince Eldarion Telcontar, second in the new line of Kings."

A great cheer rose from the ranks.

It does my heart good to see you all here. We know you have waited long and faithfully for this day, that your leaders are strong and that your welfare is considered. Thank you all for coming and let us together join in the blessings of our new age!

Folk felt honored in the spirit of their country and gave another ovation across the anvil. All eyes were on the royals as they waved and followed the guards. Well, almost all eyes. Using his height, Nag Kath scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He saw one he wished he hadn't.

Nag Kath had no legal or administrative authority but he could pretend with the best of them. He turned to a rear-guard preparing to follow the royals and grabbed his arm saying in his Elf Lord voice, "Get them inside and lock that door. No one else gets in!"

Then he grabbed Shurran's arm and said, "We need to do something dangerous." To the Conaths and Phylless; "Watch for us." Then they were gone.

Nag Kath said to Shur, "See the one in the black jacket and light cap by the food tables?"

"A dozen of them."

"Walking towards the main gate in the crowd. On the short side, dark hair. He is alone but may pretend to know people as he makes his way."

"I think so."

"Stick to him like glue, but not so close he is suspicious. We only need to know where he goes. I will try to circle round and watch from the side. Whether you lose him or track him to earth, I'll see you at your house." Nag Kath nodded as the two hurried along and then were lost in the mass.

Being tall and powerful himself, Shur plowed through irritated citizens to stay about forty feet behind. The man did not seem evasive. There were no double-backs or window-shopping stops to see who behind him studied their shoes. Shurran did not see Nag Kath, which was no surprise. The guest made his way down the switchbacks but also used the short-cut stairs and eventually landed on the second at about the prow and started walking south.

A small crowd of folk left a drinking establishment directly in front of Shurran and then milled about while his quarry kept going. By the time Shur pushed through, he had lost the scent. He stood on a trough to spot the cap but it was no use. Climbing down he figured one of the skills Uncle Nag had not attributed to him was guardi. The young Northman pushed forward against the chance that the man in the black jacket had been delayed. Fifty paces further, the usual crowd near the switchback thinned and there was no one to be seen. Shurran punched his fist into his open hand in frustration and looked to the sky.

Standing by the guardrail on the third was Uncle Nag. The Elf pulled his head up and Shurran trudged back to the fifth. Nag Kath was waiting two doors down from the new Conath home. Shurran was fit and not puffing but still agitated, tempered by knowing one of them succeeded. With Uncle Nag, he might have been a decoy or hound to drive the hare. Knowing all would be explained, the two silently made their way to the house.

Phylless' patience was extraordinary. So was Ardatha's. Reyald's was learned, but he could not appear more anxious than the ladies so he sipped an ale and stared at finger-foods brought by Loral. They went better with tea. The two trackers walked in and sat down with the others. Nag Kath scratched his nose and Ardatha told the servants everyone had what they needed after cool mugs were brought.

This was Nag Kath's show so he started. "I saw a man who should be five years dead in Mordor. A young man, of the Visitors, not a likely guest for such an august occasion. I cannot imagine him here for any good."

Reyald asked, "The same Visitors from Dorwinion?"

"Aye, but this one from the nest itself. I would lay fair odds he is the son of the Assured, though how he escaped confounds me. I need to see the King as soon as I can get there." The Elf looked at Shurran, "Did he touch, speak or even look at anyone along the way, Shur?"

"Not until the second. A pile of workmen lurched out of the Wild Boar and clogged the path. They looked like they belonged there."

Nag Kath said, "I saw them, hard to stage that sort of interference. All I got was the building he went into but he could have slipped out again and made elsewhere. It will take sharper than me to ask without drawing attention."

Nag Kath softened, "Phylless, my darling. Reyald will arrange for an escort to Osgiliath tomorrow. I am not sure our home is safe. I will tell Turnlie."

Reyald said, "Great River?" Nag Kath nodded and kissed Phylless softly. His first trip was up two levels. Then he would look at brass saddle fittings below.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

After such a momentous day, most of the palace guards were in their shiny best and sensitive to zealous well-wishers. It would take more than that to stop the Elf. He walked to the preferred side gate and said, "I am Lord Kath. I need to see King Elessar at once."

The guard was ordered to be polite but no one was being allowed in, perhaps because this very blonde gentleman said so. The man drawled, "Sorry sir. Their Highnesses are not receiving."

A faint yellow light shone in the guards face as the citizen said, "Fetch your superior right now. It is your duty."

The man blinked and tried to resist but the command was in his mind and drove all others from it. He turned as if on parade and walked to a nearby corridor to catch the attention of the Sergeant-Major. Both returned. Nag Kath did not recognize the Sarnt and repeated, "I am Lord Kath. I need to see King Elessar immediately. Take me under heavy guard as far as Minister Tarnbohl, but do it on your life."

His ears were showing. Elves were taken seriously. The Sarn't barked, "As you were, soldier" and pulled his head back down the corridor. Two more guards fell in at the first interior door at a bark from the duty Sergeant and they wound their way towards the royal apartments. Two doors away, a Lieutenant the Elf did not know came forward and the Sarn't whispered in his ear.

"So, you need to see the King? It must be important." The man was a dangerous protector of his Lord but there was a hint of humor in his comment. He wasn't there to rough-up the citizens on this of all days.

Nag Kath pulled his ruby pass and said softly, "Get Tarnbohl or die failing."

The officer looked at the Sergeant and guards commanding, "He doesn't even twitch." Then he turned on his heels and made it one door closer. Five minutes later, Minister Tarnbohl walked out with the officer and said, "Nag Kath? What's on your mind, man?"

"Trouble from my lake home, sir."

That took a second to sink in. Tarnbohl said, "Men, I've got this. Back to your posts, and not a word." The Security Minister pulled his head and the two walked towards the apartments. The man said, "They are busy. You know that. Wait here." Tarnbohl knocked and entered remembering his briefing after the Elf returned from Mordor discussing the black Visitors. And he spoke with Nag Kath less formally after the incident in Pelargir. No, if the Elf needed to talk to the King, the King himself would make that decision.

Not two minutes later Nag Kath was shown inside. He had always come through a working entrance to the King's study. This was the family apartment. Aragorn and Arwen were sitting beside each other. Both fixed their eyes on him as Tarnbohl shut the door and stood at attention. They royals were waiting.

"Sire, My Lady, I saw a high Visitor from Mordor four rows back in the viands at your Lord son's introduction. I followed him to a building on the second but that does not mean he is there. I rather doubt that. If I do not miss my guess, he is the son of Nulvanash and should dead three times over. I do not think he knows he was identified."

Now it was their turn.

Arwen asked, "Are you sure, Nag Kath?"

"Too sure to chance. I got a close look at him just before the battle. He can barely be twenty three, high by birth but unless he acts alone, not in charge."

Aragorn had not opened his mouth. He looked to Tarnbohl and said, "You were born for this." Turning to Nag Kath, "Take care, friend. Take great care."

~o~

Tarnbohl and the Elf stalked to the security chief's office. No guards here; no one wanted to be inside this room. They collapsed into chairs on either side of his desk in silence for a few seconds. Tarnbohl sighed, "Tell me again, everything."

With back and forth it took half a bell. Tarnbohl whistled loudly twice and an ordinary, plainly dressed man stepped in from a side door and stood at the end of the desk. Nag Kath had never seen him before. That was no accident. This fellow was not to be remembered. Tarnbohl said, "Nag Kath, this is Boradul." No lord or mister or anything else. "You said number 217A on the second path?"

The Elf nodded. Boradul asked in a careful voice, "Main door?"

"Aye, I saw nothing from the window and could not get down to the first to see if he worked his way out below."

Boradul said, "You know your business, Mr. Kath. There is a door in that building from the storage pit leading into the tanner's district. It is usually locked."

That last sentence meant something. Either the Visitor was able to free it before he chose his route or someone inside helped. Nag Kath was sure Boradul knew who owned it and what happened inside.

Nag Kath asked, "Minister, can you get me a pencil and paper?" The guardi almost never got assistance like this. The Elf sketched as if it was a cherished family portrait. Both men gathered round as he filled-in a surprisingly gentle face. Done in five minutes, Nag Kath said, "I can draw as many of these as you need."

Boradul invited himself to the other chair across from the Minister. He looked at his boss and said, "He's new."

Nag Kath said, "Half Khand, half Mordor. It is a unique look. Black hair, not much of a beard. He looks clean-shaved. He favors his mother of the Variag. I put him at five eight, eight stone, in Southron clothes, wearing boots with heels, early twenties.

"Mr. Boradul, you would not know it from this lad, but the Mordor men have close-set eyes, almost always gray, makes them look like they are staring. They are small too and sometimes a bit bandy-legged. It signifies little since his associates, if he has any, could just as well be from Khand. I speak both tongues."

Tarnbohl said, "How do we reach you?"

"I will stay at my house. My wife is elsewhere." They got a glimpse of the grin, "I will keep out of your way but there are a few questions only I can ask. If I find something, I will be here. May the Valar protect our Liege!"

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath walked seemingly unconcerned to his house. He was unarmed, as he always was in the city and especially after attending a royal function. He would stay that way. Miss Fennel had probably already been spirited away to Reyald's but Turnlie must have just come back with dinner-fixings and was humming in the kitchen. The Elf saw no one interested in him thought he tried not to appear looking either. He shouted in his usual voice, "Hello, Turn. What's for dinner?"

She turned and wiped her hands on her apron before replying, "I got some those nice gollisks from upriver, sir. They are fresh today."

"Oh, I do like those. Turn, come here for a moment first. There has been a change of plans."

She was allowed to sit at the main table with the master and mistress and made herself at home. Her master got a bit more serious, "Turnlie, there has been some trouble upstairs." She knew that meant the seventh. "Mrs. Phylless and Mrs. Fennel are leaving for a spell. I do not think it means danger here but you do not have to stay if you do not want to."

The stout cook put her hand over her mouth and said from behind it, "One of your old friends come to roost?"

"No fooling you, old Turn. I spotted a bad 'un. He may want to settle scores. You are welcome to stay with your ma as long as it takes. It will be just me here."

She said, "I'll sleep there but come here for breakfast and dinner, make it look normal like."

"Oh Turn, you are a love. You see a handsome young man with black hair who doesn't belong, you keep walking, eh?"

"Yes, Mr. Kath."

~o~

Sulvarn had put some of his hard-earned into clothes, used clothes, mind, but a sight better than before. Nag Kath watched his stall for an hour from two angles before he went shopping.

The old boy wasn't sure of his eyes but gave a modest wave and got back to the customer considering one of his fine soaps. The Elf made a ham-handed effort to be considering wares while the merchant completed his sale. Sulvarn said, "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Neither did I. There's trouble. Do you remember the symbol Fûl?"

"Hard to forget that."

"There is a hard man of that order where he shouldn't be."

Nag Kath knew Sulvarn had nothing to do with that. The Visitor, he never got the name, would have been on his way, if not already here, before the Elf got back from the river. But Sulvarn knew where Nag Kath lived. If anyone was sniffing around, it might be because the Yvsuldor put the squeeze on him.

The vendor puffed up with importance, "Sir, I will be vigilant."

Nag Kath sidled to the counter and pulled a copy of his picture. Sulvarn commented, "Khandian! High Khand at that. Pretty lad. They don't mix with common Swertings unless at need. He shows; Venaris will come by for sweets."

~o~

Nag Kath took the long way to Reyald's. Phyll tried to pretend he was a bead peddler until her relief showed through and ran for her kiss. "You have some explaining to do, dearest husband."

He told her everything except Sulvarn. If his granddaughter ran an errand, they would not be there. He asked Mrs. Fennel, "Can you ride?"

"Someone puts me on and points it, I'll get there."

Phylless said sweetly, "And what about you?"

He shook his head, "I am not sure. This is for the guardi but I know the face. He won't know me. I had black braided hair and strange costume. How did they miss him?" That last bit was to himself. Of course, the man along the Nargil might have been son to neither of the chief actors, but he was still an officer of the Visitors. Rydovosh settled them proper. Nag Kath didn't recall seeing his head in the pile.

He came back to the world and said, "This is what he looks like. You see him, you scream. Better yet, slip a knife in his ribs." She carried a wicked little sash blade when walking the worse sections of Pelargir, which was most of them. Grooms were bringing the horses as he left.

~o~

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~o~

There was a small annex on the south side of the second where officers used to keep their horses. Now it was only used to store hay. At this time of year, stocks were low waiting for the fall harvest. Men with nowhere else to go often slipped in to get out of the rain. There were two smelly caves further back with stout doors left open, perhaps to hold valuables long ago. The rock floors were rough and uneven, always damp in one corner.

Vanteg Chûr took off his boots and poured the sand into the straw. It was clean straw at least. He took a piece of dried meat from his bag and tore off a hunk. After stuffing himself at the feast above, the rest might last through tomorrow. It went with a rolled wheat patty and a few swigs from his canteen.

Chûr had never heard of Nag Kath. He was listening to his chief on the river and did no more than glance at the four strangers. As far as he knew, they were just fellow losers at the disaster caused by the Assured and the head of his order, Uvuo. A fool with a magic ring was still a fool. Those two were dying when he rode his flatulent horse into the Nargil and swam alongside her, watching arrows plop harmlessly in the freezing water.

He forded a few miles down and drove the horse near death back to Ûniarra Nûrn. Fortunately he was light and a good rider. Reaching the capital half a day ahead of Rydovosh, he ordered the ferry to take him across, turning his tunic inside-out halfway there. At night, he rode unquestioned where Aômul's pickets should have been. In the morning, his saddle was replaced by a stolen sack across the horse to look like a merchant's lad returning home empty-handed.

Chûr did not know who his father was. He had only the faintest memory of a beautiful woman seen through the lattice of her garden. She looked like him. Any boy would wish for such a mother but she was gone years ago. Uvuo told him he was to become an Yvsuldor, very young. A subaltern by the rout on the river, he was never given command. One did not ask questions. The Assured occasionally inspected his regiment and would interrogate him, looking at him so strangely! He feared the Assured. Life was hard. His gentle Khandian features absorbed more than a few punches from ambitious Nûrns.

The young man made his way to Khand, stole food and trekked along the southern Ephel until he landed among the Southrons. A vile and swarthy lot, they left him alone unless they wanted his trim body. One man was slit from groin to ribs for the effort. The dougsh's clothes held copper coins.

It took years to get here after his horse was stolen, always walking, always a little further. His reasons for coming were unclear. It was proclaimed in Mordor that 'the Gondor' were the foulest of enemies, a hateful lot who would eat the babies of Nûrn. Uvuo himself said that the Yvsuldor's purpose on earth was revenge on the men who did this to them and stole their lord with sorcery of dead soldiers. With patience, always patience, he would be returned.

Chûr doubted that. The Nûrn ate their own babies. He was small and beardless, not vicious enough to be a Visitor among such vicious men. But they let him live, they let him stay. Now he was here and Gondor did not seem so foul. When he arrived a week ago, a large woman took pity on him and gave him food from her stall for none of his few remaining brown coins. People smiled. He saw no babies eaten, though quite a few sheep fared worse. And today, of all days, he just walked up the hill to see the great ruler and his woman show their own baby.

It was so confusing. As he often did in times of uncertainty, Chûr flexed his right hand. It created the soothing yellow color around it, quickly dying to the shade of his olive skin as the tingle eased his troubles. He had never told anyone about that.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Guardi scoured the city. The best of them were subtle but the big ones scowled and looked in honest peoples' businesses. Minister Tarnbohl had not slept in two days. The owner of the building the assassin slipped through was no more than drunk at the baby Lord's introduction. The key was left in the lock.

Their target did not eat. He did not know anyone. He spoke to no one. He was unseen. On the morning of the third day, Chûr wandered out of the hay. He had two groats left. Southrons made chew strips of dried organ meats and he could get enough to last today and perhaps tomorrow for one of his groats.

As he weighed his meager choices, an old, crippled man in a soap stall called him over saying, "You look hungry, lad. I have more of this than I can eat."

Beware Southrons offering something for nothing. He gutted the one but another time did not get away. No, the man removed a warm cholla patty from the leaf and put fresh meat in the center. A fair dipping sauce was right on the counter. Chûr never remembered anything tasting so good. He thanked him in Plainstongue, "Blessings, sir. My road has been long."

The old man replied, "It is the long roads that show us our blessings. You must come all the way from Khand."

That was the safest mistake. Mentioning the Nûrn upset men further south. "Yes, from the Khur-Khand."

The vendor called a shy lass over. She showed Variag blood as well. He gently told her, "Dear, do granda a favor and go tell my friend that we will need more soap shortly."

She bowed and smiled, "Of course, honored grandfather."

Sulvarn appeared to wrack his memory, "Now, where were we? Oh yes, I have some of the sweet cane rolls. Do people of your lands eat those?" Chûr had no idea, but people from his lands ate anything they got. The young man nodded and was given the most heavenly taste known to any man. How could these people be so evil and have such things?

Knowing it would take the Elf at least half an hour, if he was even home, Sulvarn took a risk. He said, "See here, I do not move about so well. I need to put the boxes on the right to the left to make room for more coming. If you do that for me, I will pay you five groats."

Chûr would have done it for the food. He nodded and started the work. It would only take a few minutes at this rate so Sulvarn said, "Wait, I am sorry. They must be stacked so the blue marks are on top, facing this way." They were actually boxes of his neighbor's stall. Sulvarn was watching them for an hour. Arranging the blue marks up still only took fifteen minutes. Running low on ways to stall, the vendor said, "Well done. I am hungry again. Here are your five groats and two more to go over to that stall for more cholla. Off you go!"

The lad might just take all seven and be gone but he stood in line while another Haradrim argued that for such small rolls they should be three a groat! Taking forever, the buyer settled on five for two groats which was the same deal Chûr would have gotten but traded one for more dipping sauce.

When he got back, a customer was sniffing some of the vendor's soaps. Not wanted to interfere, but not wanting the cholla to get cold either, the young man unrolled the flat wheat patties and set the dish of sauce on the counter away from the customer. Sulvarn said in the strange local tongue Chûr was starting to understand, "Sir, you should try these. They are still warm."

The beardless blonde gratefully accepted and said, "Yes, very good. Young man, you should enjoy yours too." That was beyond comprehension but he knew the 'eat' signal in any tongue. The blonde man smiled at him.

~o~

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~o~

Chûr woke in a sturdy room with no windows. It was not a cell. Cells smelled worse. The Assured made the Ghoranduls take men in for questioning or kill them to prove their loyalty. Cell or no, he was not leaving. The blonde man was sitting on a chair reading something. Chûr would be very still. He was quick. If the fool turned away, he had already planned the fewest steps to the man's throat. Except, his knife was missing.

The blonde man set his papers aside and said in crude Mordoran, "Good, awake. Does head hurt?"

Chûr shook his head, the same in any language.

"I am Solvanth. You will tell me everything I want to know."

He said it so calmly! Like Uvuo. Nulvanash never threatened softly. He puffed large and made his voice painful. The man with long blonde hair said, "You were Richtren to Nulvanash. All of the Visitors are dead along the Nargil. I was there. How did you live?"

Chûr told him. The man never broke his concentration. Chûr could never get to his throat in time. How did he know, and how was he there? He spoke the tongue!

The blonde asked, "Why are you here?"

The young man knew a little of interrogation. They start gently. Pain begins either when you are false or to enjoy themselves. That should be a lesser question leading to one that mattered. He did not know it was the questioner's most important.

"I escaped downriver. Rode, walked through Harad, years to come. They said Gondor was evil. But people feed. I do not know why I came. I just kept going."

Nag Kath let him talk. In his narrative, the young man used a few Variag words so when it was time for another question, the blonde man asked in Khandian, "What is your name?"

It was the same anywhere, "Vanteg Chûr."

The blonde was interested, "Is that a mix of Nulvanash and Chûran?"

He knew of the Assured! Oh, this must end badly. Could he run into the wall hard enough to lose his mind? "Nulvanash is Assured. Dead and I spit. I do not know the other name, best of sirs."

Was it possible the lad did not know who his parents were? No bastion of family affection; Mordor. If the sorcerer thought he would live forever, he might not want his namesake looking for advancement. He might not have killed him either. There was no mistaking his mother, though. That was strong blood.

"Vanteg Chûr, what do you want?"

"Food. Not fear."

The tall man rose saying, "Food will be brought to you. You must stay here. I will come tomorrow."

As the tall one gathered his papers, Chûr made his desperate attempt. He rose and ran. Almost there; the blonde held out his hand. It glowed, but silver compared to his feeble yellow. The pain was unimaginable. Chûr felt as if every part of him had been crushed. He tried to scream but his mouth would not work. First he fell to his knees, then on his jaw.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Minister Tarnbohl muttered, "That could have gone better. What did you learn?"

Nag Kath shook his head, "Nothing I expected. He is just trying to get away. He walked here on his own. He has no idea who his parents are and it seems he got some of his father's sorcery, that's what knocked him out. I don't think he knows that either. He's not here to kill anyone."

"When will he wake?"

"I've taken blows like that and was out for twelve, eighteen hours. He will wake sore and starving. Trust me."

"Does he speak any Westron?"

"Not that I could tell. Mordoran Plainstongue and passable Variag. Southron too, but I don't know it."

Tarnbohl rubbed his chin, "We know the father. What of the mother?"

"One of the most beautiful women I've ever met. She was a slave of the Assured, a pleasure tribute from his vassal state. She got away the same way her boy did. Chûran is her name. She was the one who told us how to get in and how to hook Nulvanash. Without her, it never would have worked. The last time I saw her she asked if I saw someone who looked like her, would I spare him. Nag Kath shook his head, "I saw the boy at the battle but then it was every man for himself."

The Minister had a report to make. "What do we do with him?"

Nag Kath said practically, "Let him sleep then feed him a real meal. I will sit with him until he wakes. He will be confused."

~o~

The lad's color was good and his breathing was more even. That hand! He must have gotten that from da. The sun was a few hours up when Chûr woke and pretended sleep again.

"I know you are awake."

The young man propped his head on his elbow and said, "Awake, asleep, I'll be dead soon enough."

How could he think anything else? "Well, don't die too fast or you will miss breakfast." The Elf pointed to a plate on the table, too high up to be seen lying on the bed. The food was cold but by Ûniarra Nûrn standards; fine dining. Chûr stalked it slowly and then pounced using both hands.

The blonde man let him eat but had none himself. He did take sips of tea, the Khand tea that was everywhere as he made the turn into Harad. A sleeve wiped the wreckage from his mouth and he glared at the blonde. Clearly the creature had powers dwarfing Nulvanash. His own hand! Usually a source of comfort, it had betrayed him and paralyzed his entire body. Was this the evil that Uvuo said destroyed their beloved dark lord?

The food was gone. "Chûr, do you remember the scholars at the Nargil?"

"No."

"Four men, captives of Uvuo, there to read maps and scrolls?"

"Yes, weaklings. To be killed after our victory." He said that in complete despair, one more chore in a short lifetime of miserable chores.

"Take a closer look at me."

The small soldier looked, blinked a couple times and leaned in slightly as comprehension came into his face. Completely reversing Nag Kath's solemn script, Chûr began to laugh. "SO, they were even more foolish than we thought!" Only slightly more seriously, "Now, do you kill me?"

Nag Kath shook his head, "I hope not. Someone I cherish asked me to save you if I could."

"Who gains from that, Solvansh? There are no friends in Nûrn."

"Your mother."

When the young man was speechless, Nag Kath filled the air, "She was Nulvanash's concubine. She bore you and escaped the same way you did. You might have passed her on your way here. You were taken from her as a toddler, given to the Yvsuldors. But she never forgot you. She always hoped you would live."

"Nulvanash is father?"

"Sorry."

"So now you kill me?"

"That is not up to me."

Chûr sat on his cot. His mind was full beyond capacity. The Assured was his father! That was awful. Some woman from that terrible land would have borne him, not so hard to believe, really. That she was alive and found; less so.

And what was the blonde man? A sorcerer like Nulvanash, father Nulvanash! Not cruel though. Wasn't that what those powers were for, to control men to your will? Chûr had no will. He only survived. He survived there and on the way. Perhaps he would survive here too. It seemed a long way to go to die now. He could not know that his interrogator asked the same question of the same King after a year of torment in the young man's hiding place.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Aragorn held his chin an extra long time. Tarnbohl said nothing. The Elf explained the situation. Nag Kath made it sound neutral, just facts, but there was a bias to let the young man live. A sorcerer! Weak like his father but a holdover of when that was more common. Nag Kath had no idea what to do with him either. Teach him to paint?!

On the bright side; this was not a conspiracy of fell legions trying to destroy the country one flatbread at a time. Arwen! Ever vigilant Arwen, finally with a child to make her staying bearable. The King flattered himself that he alone was worth the sacrifice, but the prospect of Eldarion sealed her bargain.

King Elessar rose. "Let us have a look at him."

Elf, Minister and Liege walked back to the holding cell. The guard let them in and stood by the door. Chûr was still sitting at the table thinking he might get out of this alive as the three approached, not recognizing the King in the dark without his crown and regalia. Nag Kath came closer and said, "Chûr, this is, uhm, Strider. He is going to ask you some questions."

It had been a while since that name was said on the seventh. Strider asked, "Did you come to the ceremony to kill the King and Queen?"

Chûr looked at all three faces, "No."

The King then asked, "Then why did you come?

The Elf's translation; "In the market, they said there would be free food."

Aragorn cracked a Nag Kath grin and chuckled before saying, "He is all yours. What will you do with him?"

"I will teach him right-living … and I will learn every secret the Witch-King left behind."

~o~

He felt like an archery Sarn't, "Aw right, follow me. Don't run away or I will curse you." Could he do that? Might come in handy. The tall, ageless man and the shorter, young man walked out the seventh gate, the sixth gate and made for Nag Kath's house. Chûr's head was on a swivel looking at all the people. As an Yvsuldor, he was feared, his red collar could mean pain, or worse. Here; no one seemed afraid of anyone. They looked at each other!

"Hi Turnlie, this is Chûr. He is staying for a while. Everything is fine now. I expect the lad is hungry."

"I got more of the gollisks. They were fresh and the others, well, maybe a bit long in the bin, sir."

"Chûr doesn't speak a word of our tongue but the sooner he learns, the better for all."

"Yes, sir."

"We are going to get him some clothes and run a few more errands. Be back by dinner."

"Very good, sir."

~o~

Their first stop was Kathen Properties. Secretary Stewant was putting the rental records away. "Oh, hello Nag Kath. You almost missed me."

"I need you to send a runner to Osgiliath and fetch Phylless and Miss Fennel back. All's well."

"I think Wallendorn is here. Can he use Charlo? His horse threw a shoe."

"That's fine. Please have someone tell the Ambassador too."

The two found Gurren's general store where was purchased as much as they could carry of outer and undergarments, a hat, boots, belt, jacket, socks, and everything else a young Visitor about town needed that spring. The cargo was redistributed after a young woman looked at Chûr and he walked into a donkey. Man-carts nearly got him twice.

~o~

When they struggled in the door, Reyald was relaxing on the couch with a goblet of Dorwinion. "Out marketing, eh? This had better be good."

The shoppers dumped their loads on the dining table. Reyald thought the young man was a bearer but he just stood there. Nag Kath said, "Reyald, may I introduce Vanteg Chûr? He is a sorcerer visiting from Mordor."

The normally smooth-tongued Ambassador gaped for a few seconds and then said, "I supposed I asked for that. Does Mr. Chûr come with an explanation?"

"It's a beauty. Is gollisk all right?"

"I've eaten, thank you."

Nag Kath said to the pretty young man in Khandian, "Chûr, this is Reyald Conath."

The Visitor bowed and said, "Mr. Conash."

Ambassador Conath asked, "Do the girls know about this?"

"Wallendorn is getting mine now. The only ones who know are you, me, Tarnbohl and the King. Arwen will know soon and that's one more call to stick my head on a pike. Officially, he is from Khand." Reyald heard the updated version and went home to tell Ardatha about the Variag here for a holiday.

Phylless was home by the three-bell, relieved that her husband had said all was well. She had a hundred questions. When she walked in the door and saw a clean, well-dressed young man stuffing his face with cucumbers and bread, she had a hundred and one. Chur already learned that one stands and bows to women much like one does for superior officers. After the shortest possible answer to her newest question, Phyll walked over to the young man saying how pleased she was to meet him. He smiled hoping that was the right thing.

"Dear, could we have a word?" They went into the kitchen area where the Elf was asked, "Will our son be staying with us long?"

"No, but I have to keep him close. I will think of something."

Phylless had her clever-face on, "Show him his mother's picture."

The orc thought of saying something then he dashed upstairs to thumb through the hanging folio. He came back down with his portrait of Chûran. Taller, with a stronger chin, he could be her brother. Nag Kath sat down next to his unexpected guest and said in Variag, "This is a picture I drew of your mother. Her name is Chûran and she lives in Lhûg."

This was of enough moment that the man stopped eating. His eyes bore into the paper. Somehow he imagined she had left him. Other children had mothers. Some had fathers. He had the Visitors. Nag Kath told him what he guessed about Chûr's beginnings. He would leave her involvement in the coup until he had a better chance to gauge how the young officer felt about the outcome.

Chûr asked, "You drew this?"

"Yes, that is one of the things I do." He took Chûr's picture out of his jacket. "This was from the ceremony and what I remembered from the Nargil. Your mother asked me to save you if I could. There wasn't much I could do about that."

"Did you murder the Assured?"

The Elf would rather have saved that question but he would not avoid it either. "We tricked him. He sought more power. That was bad."

"Yes, the dark one. Uvuo?"

"A knife in the ribs."

That revelation was not so upsetting that he could not have more cucumber slices. "And now you are sorcerer?"

"There are many. I am on the side that wants people to be free."

Cucumbers stopped again. Chûr stared at the woman's picture on the table. A tribute woman. He had never had a woman. Men had taken him and he did not care for that. Hopefully, women were different. Phylless joined them. She had no Khandian but was a keen observer of emotions. Fennel was hovering as well. She and Turnlie were standing at the kitchen door when Nag Kath gave his condensed explanation to Phyll. Somehow they imagined dark servants practicing foul arts and avoiding vegetables.

After the last slice hit bottom Chûr asked, "What do I do now?"

Nag Kath became the King. Phylless was not the Queen. A creature who was more than he seemed was newly released into the White City. All the Elf remembered of his first couple days out of gaol was how pretty things were. It informed every step after that. Did he need a Quastille, a Tallazh? He asked, "What do you like to do? What do you want to be?"

Those were grossly unfair questions for a Visitor or an orc. Nag Kath supposed Chûr knew a great deal more of the world than he did but this must all seem so large, so distorted. The young man tried anyway, "I do not want to be dark. I will learn, then decide." In the raw, transactional world of his birth, there was a price. "What do you want?"

Nag Kath was ready for that one. "I want you to be light, and tell me all about the dark ones. They are the enemy."

As much as he wished, more cucumbers did not appear on the plate, a weak sorcerer! Yes, he would gladly tell of his training. The clean clothes felt nice. The basin bath was not so terrible either. The woman did not cower or divert her eyes. Were they all like that? This one was taken. Even he knew not to interfere. Finally he said, "Yes, I will do that."

Practicality arrived in the form of Shurran Conath. The big Northman was about the same age as Chûr although the newcomer did not know how old he was. Shur, pronounced with a soft 'sh' rather than the hard 'ch' and long 'u' of the Nûrn, smiled at the young man and was introduced. Uncle Nag asked, "Shur, how's your Khandian coming?"

"Never better." He didn't have a word.

"How would you like to take our guest out for a meat lunch?"

"Glad to. Anything I need to know first?"

"Not really. Lose him and we'll dock your pay." Nag Kath turned to Chûr, "He will take you for more food."

The Nûrn walked out and smiled at Shurran. Shurran gave a half smile back to the Kaths as he shut the door behind him. Phylless took a sip of her tea and said, "What will you do with him, Nag?"

"I think the same thing they did to me. I will be the teacher of light and dark. Someone else has to teach him how to live free. With my understanding wife's permission, he can stay here for a little while but the hard part is where to put him. What do you think?"

"He can stay here."

"I mean after that. I was in the art school. Maybe there is some other kind of school for foreigners come to the White City for learning."

Phyll said casually to her simple orc, "It is a sorry thing that between us we don't know anyone who knows everything going on in the White City."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

"Dear Nag Kath, Phyll, where have you been. Phyll, Deniise asked after you at tea. And you …" directed at the changeling, "haven't seen you in weeks."

Phylless sat on Tal's comfortable couch and said, "My husband has been up to his usual adventures." That was followed by a kind but prompting glance.

Even in his concise manner, the story took fifteen minutes. The ladies sipped their tea and had a few of the finger cakes. Tal summarized, "So, you have a wizard from Mordor who people thought came here to cause trouble but he is just a refugee. He is smart, doesn't speak a word of our tongue, is unmarried, pretty to look at and has no idea what to do."

Nag Kath gulped his assent.

"What about learning a trade?"

"I need to keep my eye on him, a small matter of being the last Visitor."

Tal offered, "How about in the Khandian sector?"

"That's the last place. They would spot him as a Nûrn in a blink. It has to be someplace where he can meet people his own age and learn they are not his enemy. If he was just a lad from the provinces, this would be easier."

Tal would think about it.

~o~

Shurran solved it a couple days later. They went to lunch at a workingman's pub on the third almost directly up from Timalen's house. Two of Shur's builder friends lived in a boarding house four buildings over. Their boss was waiting for his customer to pay him so he declared the day over and the lads would put in longer hours tomorrow. That called for ale!

Visitors of the order of Yvsuldor did not drink. It invited weakness and false notions! Peoples of Khand and Harad did drink after dark but that was a rich man's pleasure. Those folk were few and far between for a Nûrn trying not to attract attention. But when the dusty workman thumped a pitcher on the table to go with the mutton stew, well, what could one say?

Shurran had done design work for their boss two projects ago and they talked about that while the young guest listened. He could not determine their protocol. In his world and the one he had traveled through; any group of men was defined by their relationship in the pack. One was highest, one lowest, most jostled for position in-between. These men did not do that. His host was better groomed and therefore of higher status, but they carried on as equals. How strange! When it was time to go; all three counted out copper coins and left them on the table without fear someone would steal them. His two groats were not included.

Shurran and Chûr got back to Nag Kath's house after the fish was served so they both had another plate. It reminded the Elf that he had to have the same talk that failed with Brenen about Northmen and meals o'plenty. Shur mentioned meeting his pals at the Rusty Wheel and that they lived in Mrs. Zepruldan's boarding house. That was good because the old lady did not allow alcohol and his friends didn't need any more.

Phylless raised her eyebrow. "Shur, is that a place where young men can stay while they sort-out their situation in our fair city?"

Shurran looked at the eyes around the table assessing the question in context, "Aye Phyll. Men only, they get a room or share. Sizes depend on price. Some have windows. Most guests are tradesmen who don't have to live in the shop anymore, so they aren't poor. Old Mrs. Zepruldan washes the sheets once a month. If it isn't that one, there are three other houses right there, two more for women."

Phylless asked Chûr, "How is your dinner?" Gollusks are a small whisker-fish that taste more like trout. The Nûrn inhaled them.

~o~

Chûr stayed with them for a week, giving Nag Kath time to structure teaching Westron and start a long, thorough probe into what the young man was taught. The Elf remembered he had a Richtren collar even as a lad. That and his parentage; he must have been being groomed for higher things. Did they know about the gift? Chûr did not think so. He did not even know what that was and hid it to avoid punishment. Nag Kath thought if his father knew, he might even murder him. Immortals do not need successors.

The Nûrn was unlettered. There was no written form for their slave dialect. But he knew every one of the rock symbols by heart; their function, how they played off each other and when they were to be summoned. He also could recite long catechisms that included more than a little Black Speech about their storied history. They followed in the style of the Rhûnic Lore-Sayers with cadence to emphasize important passages and stimulate accuracy. It would take a long time to draw and write them all.

On the eighth day, the Elf and Visitor strolled down to the boarding block with Shurran who took a few hours off. The better choice was a smaller place run by the estimable Miss Oppenlieght. It had a fellow from Pelargir, two brothers from Dol Amroth and five more from the city. Room and dinner was thirty-two groats a month for a fair sized room with a window, desk, basin and raised bed. Elf-eyes looked for bugs. The door locks could not stop even an honest man. Being caught in someone else's room without leave was grounds for eviction. So was having a woman unless approved with the door open. Like most of these places, a strapping fellow on the block saw to enforcement.

Most days, teacher and student would get together for two hours, there, at the Elf's or over a meal. Chûr was used to much longer and rigorous study but Nag Kath had other duties. The young man came to dinner once a week.

One of the most important things was that he made friends, slowly at first but after a month, he had things to do. He liked the plays and singing which were in full-swing in public parks. Sometimes he would stop by Shurran's office to say hello. Being quiet, he wasn't in the way and the architect let him watch when his partner was out.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

As happens to all attractive young men, he caught the eyes of females. Why not? Chûr was well-dressed, clean, relatively unscarred and did not talk much. He, Haldess of Pelargir and Regandir of the glass trade went to visit friends on the second. Today was the holy day of an ancient prophet who encouraged folk to cast off their cares. An absurd notion, but then, these people had few gods who called for sacrifice. How did one sate them?

Evidently with ale. The tall Solvanth, also known as Kath, had given him an assortment of copper and even a few silver coins to buy meals and things he needed. They would not be meeting today since the Kath had solemn observances of his own. Haldess, whose parents sent things on boats for him to sell, knew a place of worship. It seemed like many places nearby but Chûr respected their queer beliefs.

When they arrived, services had already begun. The tables were all taken so they approached on foot and asked the burly counterman for three mugs. Already poured, they left coppers and moved back to the middle of the room. Haldess saw several women he knew and introduced his friends from the rooming house. For some unfathomable reason, females were allowed out, unchaperoned, and permitted to share in the ale. It made them friendly. It made them very friendly.

The following day, his concentration during the right-living lesson lagged. He forgot sayings and put words in the wrong order. The tongue of Gondor was not difficult as long as one remembered there were only so many sounds. There were no nuances. If you could make the sounds, you could make the word as long as your tongue cooperated. The Kath leaned back in his chair and smiled, as he often did, wide enough to show his teeth. Then he asked, "Did you enjoy the feast?"

Chûr was not sure what to say. He had been here long enough to think he would not be punished or struck for drinking and being taken to a woman's room. He found women much preferable to the forceful Southron. It was unfortunate that the holy day was only once a year.

He murmured in the common-tongue, "Yes, Nag Kath. I joined friends. I regret I did not learn the proper sayings."

The Elf stuck to Khandian, "Well, they are complicated. The holiday is to forgive transgressions. I am sure you showed respect to others?"

"So I was told."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

As summer became fall, the Elf increased the depth of Chûr's emersion into the dark lords' instruction. So far, he concentrated on Westron, concepts of right living and writing. The last improved quickly when he realized the young man was left-handed.

The dutiful husband also spent more time with his bride. They went to Osgiliath for several days at a time, enjoyed plays and songs, he took her to the private dance clubs on the fifth and enjoyed themselves. As he told Shurran, a wife needs things to do. Her parents would visit in October.

After the first couple reports to Minister Tarnbohl, interest from the palace slackened. An organized gang of thieves was keeping the guardi busy. Umbars were suspected, as usual, but they arrested a nest of men from the Lebennin side of the delta. Chûr took some leisure time to explore more of Minas Tirith and wandered into a Khandian enclave. He looked enough like the transitory folk that some called to him in greeting. He replied. By now he had learned to smile too.

Some nuance in his voice set hairs on end. As he waited to buy Nag Kath some of the tea he liked, two men attacked him with weighted sticks. Chûr ducked the first blow but the second cracked his forearm raised to defend his head. No one was coming from the other side so he ran as fast as he could, which was faster than his assailants, and made it to the yarn mall before pulling back his sleeve to look at the angry bruise. Unbuttoning his shirt so he could put the arm in as a makeshift sling, he trudged up to his teacher's home.

The sorcerer hummed tonelessly as he looked at the wound. It was a minor fracture. Since it was easier not to let patients know it was coming, he used a touch of the 'fast' to set the bone. Chûr flinched but did not cry out. Then he watched the Kath hold his arm to either side of the bruise with both hands. They turned color, silver on the backs and yellow on the palms until the silver displaced it.

Chûr heard him tell the fat cook to go upstairs and get one of his socks and cloth. Then she went to the kitchen and mixed a bowl of wheat paste. Nag Kath cut the end of the sock with his little knife and put it over the break. Then he wrapped it loosely with cloth soaked in the bread fixings to dry. Only after he was done did the Elf ask, "Meet some unpleasant folk?"

The young man's Westron was good enough to say, "In Khand town. They heard my accent and then two men came at me with clubs."

For any other man in the world, it would have been chalked-up to regional animosity. Not here. Were they right-livers who recognized a fell enemy? Were they losers in the fight? They were probably among the thousands who had a grudge against the capital of all grudges and took it out on a refugee. Nag Kath had him describe exactly where he was and what the men looked like. Chûr did not think Nag Kath would disembowel them, but he would investigate. He was to keep that arm dry.

~o~

"Fûl or Orlo?"

His manhood was in a vise, gripped by someone across the dark path. He knew if he screamed the pressure would become unbearable. His family was inside. Durachuv was at his home. He was alone. The grip tightened. Oh please, if life was meant to be lived in harmony and protection of those he loved, please let this stop.

It did not. Finally he grimaced and squealed, "Orlo!"

The pain was gone. The man was gone. His wife would be disappointed tonight.

~o~

Nag Kath increased his studies. Twice, he slipped the young Visitor into a confused state for the clearest rendering of his indoctrination. He also found Chûr never really believed it. Fanatics were few but ambition and fear were persuasive. In normal mind, he finally asked of Orlo. For some reason, the Elf thought this would bring visions of raging hatred and vengeance. It seemed Righters, as he called them, were more of a nuisance, harmless peasants who were easily crushed before their women's eyes, folk to be whipped for lighting their puny candles. That was more the job of the field Ghoranduls. In the capital, most men were line soldiers; either as guards to the Assured or outriders. Only the very few were higher Richtrens, eligible for the top position. He was made to attend some of their Sayings. He would rather ride his horse but when told, one did.

Orlo? It was the symbol the Kath showed him. All knew that. It was forbidden to write and, of course, excluded from the glyph. No combination of other symbols could eliminate its taint. Was Orlo a man, or a sorcerer? It was said by those who came long before that there was a man but he was destroyed or reduced to spirit when Sauron first came to the Nûrn. Who could stand against that? Chûr knew absolutely nothing about the wizards or the Valar or anything of creation as men and Elves knew it. There had been rings. His inattentive father had one. The Kath destroyed it so it was not very powerful, though he was punished by the Dwarves, whoever they are.

Nag Kath cross-referenced his archives for anything to do with the right-livers going back in time. The journal from Dol Amroth was invaluable. By winter, he had extracted as much as he thought the young man knew. Reduced to spirit? That was different than dead, and the Yvsuldors knew their dead. Chûr's arm was fine. He had friends. He avoided Khand town though he would have been as safe there as in the palace after his tutor applied the squeeze. His Feast woman seemed to be a one-time union. He might not mention it to the imposing Kath but he hadn't said anything to Shurran either, and young men talk.

Syndolan was time to introduce his ward to the regulars. The Elf had kept him at arm's length. But he was a citizen now. His Westron was understandable. He could read a little and make change of a silver. And he was a nice young fellow. It was the usual colorful affair. Chûr stayed close to Shurran or Phylless who always treated him well but he would venture off into the throng. So these were Dwarves! They were short but the Hobbits were shorter. They could both drink to shame him. Khandians are not good drinkers. He had a terrible voice, but for Syndolan songs that was not disqualifying. The King's rockets were amazing. Was that what happened to the famed tower said to be above Barad Dur?

Tal had heard a lot about the young man but this was the first time she had seen him. "Oh, Nag, he is pretty."

"I've told you Tal, men are handsome, women are pretty."

"I've seen plenty who weren't either. He's pretty. He's not evil, is he?"

"Less than most."

"Whatever will you do with him?"

"He is almost ready to tell us."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Of all the many things they discussed, Chûr's magic was never included. The young Nûrn kept it hidden. He did not know the Kath had discovered it the day they met. Two days after the party they studied at Nag Kath's. The ladies found something else to do. The Elf said, "Chûr, I need you to tell me about your ability to draw the color from your hand."

There was no pretending with the Kath. Chûr was now sure that this was not a confession to a mortal crime. The man already knew. He probably always knew. The young man started slowly, "When I was little, my hand would shine when I was punished. It made the pain smaller. Sometimes it would go away."

"Does this feeling come for other things?"

"Oh, no. I have kept it hidden away. I was not punished much as I grew, but was glad of it."

Nag Kath unfolded the blade on his little knife and cut a small, jagged slice in Chûr's forearm, near the healed break. The young man held his arm firm and did not make a sound. The Elf said, "I want you to think of that healing. Be calm and imagine the wound sealing."

He tried and appeared to be straining. Nag Kath coaxed, "Relax, let it come to you." There was no color but the bleeding stopped. The Elf wiped the cut with a dinner cloth and looked. It would leave a faint scar, but it was a day or two ahead of where a man with the same laceration would be.

Chûr thought it took forever for the Kath to speak. When he did, he said, "You have some healer in you, young man. Does your land have healers?"

"No. It was said some women could, but the Assured slew them all."

"I suspect he had that power but turned against it and used it to harm. It is good that you kept this to yourself. Now I have to ask something I asked the day we met. It is a fairer question now. You have been here, and many places, seen much in your short life, some of it very cruel. But some fair as well ... Have you thought of what you might like to do in this world?"

"I should like to meet my mother."

Nag Kath said, "I thought you might. I did not tell my friends in that land because your test might not have gone so well. But I will use such tools as I have to hand to help. You could invite her here or go there, with no guarantee that she would get the message or come."

Chûr smiled, "You cannot fly me there with your powers?"

"Nay, sorry, I am very young for my kind and not strong. Even the greatest had to walk or ride." Nag Kath was glad the fell-beasts had been destroyed. "On good horses we can get there in three months by circling from the north. Through Mordor would be faster but not safe. It is still a hard and dangerous route. My friends will help."

"You will take me there?"

The Elf said, "I have a few loose ends to attend." Nag Kath looked the Nûrn over and added, "We need to work on your tale."

They were early. The route was warm but could get snow until March. That would give them time to prepare. Nag Kath bought him a good horse and was impressed by how well he rode. At his weight, he was no burden. He had clothes and knew what money was. It went a lot further in Rhûn. The plan was to travel through Dagorlad and track south of the Rhûn Sea to Mistrand, possibly Yhammâs Fruhir, at their invitation. After all, his was not preferred blood.

From there they would take the same route Nag Kath did to Lhûr, hoping Chûran would be there. The route avoided the Bror but not his southern troops. He was fairly sure with his experience he could pass through on good terms, or win if not. Chûr had not held a sword since losing his in the Nargil. It took some looking but Bessandal's quartermaster dug a cavalry saber from the pile that fit the young man's arm and eye.

Phylless took it well. She knew her man lived his life on these quests. This should be a short one with no intended wars. Nag Kath tended to cause wars. She told him, "I know you must go, but I will miss you terribly. Please tell me what draws you there?"

"I know more of the sorcerer I met in Rhûn. It was his symbol kept the trolls asleep so long. I would keep them all buried, or worse. And the peoples of those lands do not have anyone of power. I was there briefly, successfully, but they are closest to where trouble may brew. Chûr seems to be exactly what they need."

~o~

She would wait. She had things to do, perhaps visit her folks for a while. He was glad she took the long view but they were much together in the meantime.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~