Chapter 64
Into the Maw
~o~
Gathering more information would not be as easy in Middle-earth. Elves are too noble to be good spies. What little tidings they had of the southern realms came from occasional merchants either working the North/South road along the foothills or bringing things in from the ports. The conservative Caliquendi (light Elves who heeded the original call to Valinor) had not attended any of the regional councils that included Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn or Thranduil in thirty years.
Nag Kath's usual habit of loitering and looking innocent would be harder too. Elves do not travel like men. In Middle-earth, innkeepers worked for themselves. They had to pay their taxes and bribes, but it was their business and they kept that to themselves. The same went for those providing food and goods and fodder. As long as you paid and did not throw people out the windows, who and what you were didn't matter.
In Aman, there were inns in the big cities but in most places, citizens were expected to take travelers in under a code of hospitality for a night or two. Not all Elves liked other Elves or, even if they did, their lords might not. In some way, just about everyone reported to those above them. It seemed tawdry to say Elves gossip, but it would be hard for Nag Kath to stay anonymous or bribe useful facts in rare taverns. He was a traveling healer or artist, depending on the need, and did not obviously represent the interests of the mighty if anyone enquired. It helped that he didn't look particularly of one clan or another. The healer did take the liberty of shaving a few places on his handsome horse and dying the patches to make him look scabby.
The day before they left, Elrond and Nag Kath had a private conversation of gravity. Elrond counseled, "You take this errand upon yourself with poor explanations why. Please, discover what you can and return home safely to your lovely wife. I cannot hope to advise you as the conservatives become more rigid." The Elf Lord smiled, "If Gandalf should wander by; I will give him a piece of my mind for starting this business."
Nag Kath considered that before saying, "I hope not too rough on him, sir. I need to ask, do you have any known spies in your household?"
"Not known. Are you concerned?"
The changeling shook his head and said, "Not concerned, just practical. If they have reported me, being ordered to far lands as a traveling healer suggests I am not greatly esteemed here. That might loosen tongues hoping to bring me to their service." He grinned, "That or I'm a spy myself and it will be a short trip."
Elrond put his hand on his grandson-in-law's shoulder and said, "Use that story only at need and return to us for more of your entertaining stories."
~o~
The plan was for Nag Kath and Inariel to travel to Galadriel and Celeborn's land of Penethornost, a hundred and thirty miles south of Elrond's homely house in Harvién. Elladan led a dozen cavalry, one ohtar a little taller than the rest. When they rode home, no one would notice they were a trooper light.
Thornost, for short, had a grove of Mellryn with Telain platforms much like Lorien but also conventional buildings for the agrarian society of the lower Eldamar. The Kath's education intensified. Soldiers who fought Meliath's troops explained how they formed and attacked. Nag Kath got names of under-lords and known agitators there and to the south. Galadriel spent time with him going over magic, if necessary. Morgoth, even as a fleeting holdover, had her thinking deeply about what was left of sorcery in these lands. They walked off privately and he showed her some of his talents. 'The fast' was a revelation. Galadriel also worked with him on far-speaking. They both might need that.
Elladan and his troop rode home two weeks later. Inariel stayed with her great granna and granda waiting for her warrior to return. To their experience, she was still a child with wide-eyed wonder at the things around her. The Princess would be a proper little She-Elf when he got back from his doctor rounds. The traveling healer/artist left the day after Elladan along the fine North/South foothills road. Nothing he carried linked him to nobility of the northern corridor or suggested he had anything of value. He carried inexpensive objects from stable northern realms to suggest he had been there. That wasn't a precaution against thievery, just to make him as vague and unimportant as possible.
The lands of Thornost stretched another hundred thirty miles until reaching the forks of the Athradduin. There were three main tributaries and all were bridged in fine, arched stone. If Elves lived in those highlands, he did not see them. The last bridge put him in the realm of Farnëmar and Lord Lindareth. It was undefended on either side. From there he turned sharply to the east and followed the river to the capital Raniegal fully a hundred miles away. Keeping on the northern bank would have been safer, but he was here to understand the danger, not avoid it.
~o~
Until now, Nag Kath slept outdoors. The weather was fair. After crossing, dark clouds rolled over the mountains so he put the tradition of courtesy to the test. He beat the rain to a farm and asked if he could stay in their barn for the night. The folk were quite friendly and said he was welcome and could join them for the late meal. He accepted and had dinner with the farmer, his wife, a son and his wife. Zenatiur broke his thumb a few years before but pulled and splinted it himself. Nag Kath, using his real name, explained that was why he was also an artist and drew their pictures to thank them for accommodations.
No alcohol was served and using it to pump Elves for information was ineffective anyway. Nag Kath did say he was heading for the capital to meet the esteemed healer Corindelam and asked if they had been there. The son's wife was there only two hundred years ago for a wedding. Varien explained the road was as fair all the way. Asked about the hospitality, her husband made a face and said, "The city folk are not as cordial, but you will be welcome all the way there."
Rather than leave in the morning, Nag Kath said, "I see you are planting arthain. I will stay to help in thanks for your courtesy."
Zenatiur replied, "It would be proper to refuse, but that is a difficult crop to plant so we accept! Come, let me introduce you to our community."
This village was much like Emyn Vierald where everyone worked the large field and had smaller plots for the families surrounding their homes. Arthain is a vegetable that does not grow well from seed in the field so sprouts are started in small peat cups until they are four to six inches high and transplanted in rows that need frequent watering. The taste and nutrition is worth the effort, but planting the little beggars is a hard day's work.
The village of twenty-one souls was glad of an extra hand and hastily arranged an early supper for the tired workers after putting two acres in arthain interspersed with its sister crop califo.
Farmer Ignautir heaped another spoon on the visitor's plate and asked, "You are traveling through to Raniegal?"
"Yes, I am going to meet a fellow healer there. I was told we might benefit from each other's ideas. This is the first time I have been this far south and may visit Lord Thranduil's realm as well"
From across the table, a Quenda said, "I have seen Raniegal but never been to Thranduil's lands."
Nag Kath smiled, "That makes two of us." It was time to do a little fishing, "The same healer in the north said that a woman of Middle-earth with skills in child-birth came with Lord Thranduil. I hope to meet her."
Ignautir considered that and cautioned, "I have never been there either. Your reception might be different in those two places."
The healer was self-deprecating; "My reception usually depends on who is hurt. Are these southern lands so different?"
"Yes, our Lord Lindareth is not enamored of those who have crossed to escape Arda with their mannish notions and customs."
Nag Kath did not play the timid youngster this time, "Well, those who cure do not often move in lordly company. I hope my visiting will not cause alarm."
Ignautir's wife said, "Go to both and see. You seem a stout traveler. How will you return to Alqualondë?"
That was encouraging. Nag Kath hadn't said where he started. If he appeared to be from north of Eldamar, so much the better. What they knew in the cities might be another matter entirely. "I am not yet sure. Either I will take passage with a ship of Lord Cirdan or ride through Naitë Mélamar and into Penethornost."
Out here in the hinterland, these folks had no strong opinions on those who had come in the last thousand years, or, especially, in the last two hundred. His host Zenatiur said from across the table, "Now there is a pairing! I heard Lady Galadriel's contingent explained their claims most forcefully!"
His wife scowled and tried to mitigate the unvarnished statement with, "You must excuse Zenatiur, Nag Kath. There was violence when her people came to the mountain havens."
Nag Kath replied, "I heard something of that above but people there did not mention it. One farmer said that if I was in Lord Meliath's realm during militia season, I might be pressed into training. That was why I was thinking about the sea if it is not too expensive."
A farmer he hadn't met volunteered, "Come, friends, here we are frightening a fine fellow who has helped us plant the beastly arthain!" He raised a cup of their pale red wine and called, "To those who serve, be they honored and blessed by those of good cheer!"
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~
Nag Kath took his time following the Arthradduin. After three days heading east, he was still well upstream of ground that often flooded. The land looked fertile. Farms were scattered and depended more on who wanted to live there than whether it would support them. On horse he overtook foot travelers and camped with a few or with those coming the other way. The closer he got to the capital, the more anti-exile their conversations became. Folk had taught Nag Kath a few typical Teleri phrases to slip into his banter suggesting he had nothing to do with the disdained Ñoldorin silmaril-chasers. From here-in he used his alias.
The capital Raniegal was home to about nine thousand folk, in and outside the modest walls. Far be it for a yokel from Middle-earth to criticize, but these fortifications would not stop a bull in rut. They were either built before or in contempt of modern artillery. It had been a while since there had been an honest war in these parts. Nag Kath found that encouraging. The main gates were open for a constant stream of walkers and small wagons. Just inside, a half-troop of regular cavalry trotted up and he veered out of their way. The Corporal, he thought, gave him a long look but he might have been admiring Shultö.
Raniegal was large enough to have real inns. First he had to find the healer Corindelam. Nag Kath knew the address but in Elvish places, there are no house numbers and the streets are only marked if there is a memorial. Townsmen showed him the modest home so he took a room nearby, stabling the horse a block away.
This was territory unknown. Part of his choice of lodging was that there was a restaurant four doors up the modest hill from the healer on the other side of the street. Two long, slow meals suggested the physician was exactly that. A woman left early to do the shopping. A fellow with what looked like a broken wrist arrived just before lunchtime with his wife. After they went home, another woman left with a satchel. He thought she might be the healer. Gandalf hadn't said much about him or her, or anything else, before Nag Kath had real questions.
~o~
The next morning after the cook left with her shopping basket, the Elf knocked on the door. An attractive Quenda answered and assessed him for injury. Most people who came here were hurt or came on behalf of someone who could not make the trip. He wasn't bleeding so she asked, "How can I help you sir?"
"A friend recommended I introduce myself to the healer Corindelam. My name is Solvanth."
In this trusting society, that was enough to get him offered a seat with tea to follow. He took both. When she returned, she asked again, "Now, what can I do for you?"
"I am a healer also. This is a letter of reference."
Nag Kath handed her Gandalf's sealed packet. Her face betrayed nothing as she read it carefully and exchanged it on the side table for her mug saying, "Your friend the traveler says you are skilled in the cures of wounds and also ailments of men in your former lands."
"Yes, though there is not much call for the latter here. I have worked with head and back injuries with considerable experience drawing poisons." He tossed-in the last deliberately using the word 'drawing'. It might not mean the same in Sindarin as in the common-tongue, but drawing implied pulling something out with sorcery. She called Orórin the traveler. What name had Gandalf used here? She didn't seem worried about whatever the wizard called him.
Corindelam looked at him with a combination of curiosity and concern. He was obviously of those who were here recently and he was very young. The woman had another sip and ventured, "Solvanth, were you aware that the Lord of this land discourages visitors from the east?"
"Bits and pieces, but my friend suggested I come and I am not of such consequence that the lordly take much interest." What mattered to him was if the healer did something other than heal or had political interests opposed to Lord Lindareth.
That was a murky area. Long ago, disagreements between Elf nobles could lead to great slaughter. Everyone else rest did what was expected of them. She considered the humble healer's reasons and said, "We must not make too much of things. Did Mithran tell you of me?"
Mithran, short for Mithrandir? Even his true name might not address what he really was. Nag Kath answered, "No ma'am, only that we might benefit."
"Very well. I am of the school of Falagierin; studied in herbs and humors of the nerves." She had the last of her tea and added, "You must have been in rougher places than me if you are familiar with poisons, young Quendu. What did you hope to gain from the exchange."
He admitted, "Some of the roughest places. I am always looking to improve the aid I can render."
"Very well. I am busy today. Come back tomorrow at this time and we will consider our techniques."
~o~
On the way back to his inn he thought there would be little benefit. She had shown no sign of being anything but a healer. Nag Kath would be earnest and on time, even if it was only for a few hours of things he already knew. In the meantime, he strolled to where the cavalry was housed. Whatever real trouble could be expected from the Lords of Farnëmar would start with the horse soldiers.
A disadvantage of observing these people was that there were no slovenly troops. In all but crack regiments across the sea, there would be a plump, older fellow who spent his day hoping he would not have to do anything strenuous, perhaps with a taste for the grape. Not this lot. These were Lindareth's professional soldiers. At Elladan's excellent suggestion, Nag Kath swapped his riding boots for farm boots to walk around the stable area and watch the troopers go about their daily business. There was no sign they were mobilizing or even in a hurry. A soldier's blood gets up when they know something is brewing and these lads seemed unconcerned.
That night was uneventful so he reported to the healer's house the next morning and was admitted by the servant. Corindelam showed him into her healing room. She wasn't expecting much either but when he described inductive bone-knitting, he had her full attention. Nag Kath also described aligning the back bones after a break that would normally be fatal. She knew a few tricks too and it was nearly lunchtime (by Hobbit reckoning) before a knock on the door broke their concentration. The maid/cook opened the healing room door and told her mistress, "Ma'am, a soldier needs a word."
Corindelam told her to show the messenger in. A few moments later, one of the palace guards entered and said rather stiffly, "Healer Corindelam, one of our company has broken his leg inside the palace walls and we ask you to attend."
She nodded and put a few things in a large carpetbag sitting by the door. Our Elf gathered his satchel and invited himself to follow the guard past more of his kind inside an interior walled compound well up the hill. The palace proper was directly ahead but the guide veered off to the right and took them to a stone bench by a garden where a guard was laying trying to manage the pain.
The healer sat beside the soldier on the bench, confirmed where the break was and cut his pant leg up to the crotch to peel it away from the leg. Then she gave Nag Kath her shears to remove the boot as carefully as possible. The fellow's horse spooked and tossed him, breaking the upper leg in two places. The bones had not come through the flesh but they were not aligned.
She stood and said, "Dr. Solvanth, your opinion please."
He confirmed exactly as she had. It was also his practiced opinion that bones are easier to set when the patient doesn't know it's coming. In a blink, the man's leg was yanked straight and eased back into place against a howl through clenched teeth. Nag Kath made sure the bones were fitted and applied a knitting and pain spell above and below the area with hints of silver.
Corindelam took his place and felt the area finding all of the work was done except for wrapping a splint which she did from materials in her bag while Nag Kath held the injured leg up to wind the swaddling. Twenty minutes later they were done, except to tell the ohtar and his friends that he should not walk on that for a week and then with a crutch for another. A man would take two months bare minimum and would limp for life. She would return in three days to check his progress.
As the healers gathered their things and returned to town, an Elf who had been watching from the stairs called the ohtar who collected them and asked a few questions. Then he walked up to the palace.
~o~
It did not take long. At dawn, a pair of what Nag Kath called "quiet-men" instructed the innkeeper to fetch the healer. He came down hastily dressed with his satchel thinking it might be another injury. What he got was an officious guardi, "Healer Solvanth, you are here from unblessed lands against Lord Lindareth's pleasure . You will come with us."
He slung his satchel over his shoulder and followed them on the same route he had taken to heal the leg. That they knew his alias meant they had already bearded Corindelam since he hadn't used either Solvanth or Kath at the inn. The quiet-men took him up the palace steps and down a corridor until they turned into what would be a throne-room in a kingdom. There they stood at attention while the Lord of Farnëmar spoke with several counselors. He was a lordly lord, tall and grim, immaculately dressed in what Nag Kath understood was ancient Ñoldorin finery on a raised dais in an ornate chair. The Lord paid no attention to the new arrivals. The fellow who called the ohtar over was standing two courtiers to Lindareth's right. Their discussion finished, the ruler turned his attention to the wayward healer.
The second man took a step forward and announced stridently, "You are here without our Lord's leave from tainted lands. Why?!"
It was hard to tell among such august physical specimens, but in the world of men, this would be the Worm Tongue. Unimpressed, Nag Kath answered, "Ignorance, mostly. Who wants to know?"
Minister Rohier was not used to being addressed thusly. He stiffened and replied caustically, "We will ask the questions here. You claim to be a healer. What could a revered person such as Corindelam possibly hope to learn from a footloose youngster like you?"
Nag Kath was still not sure how these people would tell he was a babe. "I have experience in bone and head injuries as well as …" He was about to say poison but thought that was too close to sorcery. If these lads learned his sorcery, they would learn the hard way. He ended with, "… shocks to the spine causing mental disorder."
Rohier was about to say something when his lord responded softly, "Come forward." Nag Kath did with his guards behind him and gave another, better bow. Lord Lindareth looked at the tall healer in his modest boots and added, "It is the law of my land that those who are from Middle-earth or the renegade gardhs must declare themselves to the proper authorities."
Nag Kath replied, "Then I apologize and hope to make amends, Your Lordship."
"You say you have experience with injuries that cause mental distress?"
Interesting he said 'distress' rather than 'disorder'. If this Lord had a strong enough interest to let his henchman chew his tongue after the insult, Nag Kath would be at his most useful. "Yes sir. A blow or twist to the head or back can cause someone to lose memories or place them in the wrong order. I can sometimes help such patients."
Lord Lindareth became more aggressive, "Sometimes?! You make claims, do nothing and say it is beyond your skills?"
"I never make claims and or offer opinions until I have seen the patient." In other words; let me see your hole-cards, ancient Lindareth of south Eldamar. Rousting vagabond healers was not a good way to display lordship. Nag Kath has already calculated the steps to take his head with the side-guard's sword if this went badly.
Lindareth had a problem. His brother Vantieth was Lord Counselor. He should be returning from talking to his opposite-number in Naitë Mélamar right now. Vantieth's young son had been a sweet, loving child four months ago. Now he was listless and taciturn. None of the local healers, including Corindelam, had been able to do anything for him. His mind was disturbed suddenly and drastically. If this roughshod herbalist offered straws, he must clutch them.
Lindareth rose off his throne and walked past the healer saying, "Follow me." A hand gesture to the others cut his retinue to two liveried guards. They walked further down the original corridor to another that was equally ornate. From there, the ruler of Farnëmar opened a door to luxurious quarters and walked to the main room. A governess was instantly on her feet and bowing but a lad sitting on the carpet paid no attention. His Lordship said, "Harm one hair on his head and yours leaves your shoulders." The Quenda joined him and they were gone.
~o~
Nag Kath observed the child absorbed with a small wooden horse. He was about ten, the equivalent of eight in mannish mental growth.
The changeling sat cross-legged six feet away and was completely ignored. Finally he offered, "My horse is tan but I see yours is gray."
The child continued prancing his steed on the fine rug without looking up. After another minute, Nag Kath added, "Of course, the brown horses are faster."
That got the child's attention. He looked at the traveling healer with the same distant gaze Durnalath had when she was under Lostorin poisoning. To the untrained observer it might seem weak eyes, but this was confusion behind them. The child said, "My father has a black horse and those are fastest of all."
"Your father must be very lordly to have such a handsome mount."
The boy considered that, had no response and went back to playing. Nag Kath prompted, "What is the name of your horse?"
The child held the wooden toy up to examine. He knew it once but could not remember so he said, "He has no name."
The very image of avuncular care, Nag Kath asked, "Well, that will never do."
The boy looked back at Nag Kath. With every fiber of his being he wanted to say his toy horses' name, but nothing would come. It was locked inside. The Elf needed to touch him so he cajoled, "Perhaps if you give me your horse for a moment, I can think of a name your lord father would favor."
At the mention of his beloved da, the child offered the little gray horse to the stranger. Missing his reach, Nag Kath gently grasped the wrist and was stunned as badly as with the Princess of Thân zîrân. The boy was infected by darkness. Fortunately, he did not see the Elf recoil. Since the stranger did not take the toy, the lad resumed trotting it back and forth, trying to hum a nursery poem.
The faintest beam of yellow light hit the lad's face and he looked up reluctantly. Nag Kath asked gently, "When do your lord father and his black horse return home?"
The boy said succinctly, "Soon."
"Who does he visit?"
"Selvas of Naitë."
The Elf quickly stole through the empty apartments looking for other useful items and feeling for sorcery. Finding none, he crept to the kitchen and emptied a small envelope into the demi-cask of fine red wine set aside for Vantieth's personal use. Lastly he applied a strong clarity spell to the child, more than enough to offset the confusion and make him responsive for a few days. Nag Kath showed himself out as the governess rushed by and told the guard he would be back in three days. No one followed him back to the inn.
He would not bother Corin again. She was under enough strain already. She hadn't announced she was Gandalf's agent or where to find any other luckless wizard-helpers either. There would be no curing the boy. Taking that spirit from him would alert the wrong people. It made him sad, innocent Helien yet again. One thing was certain, dark lords or their minions were not investing children. The lad had gotten that accidentally from proximity to someone deeply in thrall. Nag Kath hoped Vantieth enjoyed the sweet wine.
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~
Not only did Lord Vantieth ride a black horse, a full company of his outriders did too. A week later they clattered up the cobblestones to the palace with people getting quickly out of their way. It was late. An attendant from the main palace arrived at his quarters shortly after with a cart of hot foods and was allowed in by the nanny. The attendant served his lordship at the dining table. After a while there was a series of irregular knocks on the office door.
"Enter."
The Worm-Tongued Minister Rohier oiled, "Welcome back, My Lord. How was your trip?"
Vantieth replied, "Effective. Things are falling into place. Our friends are better prepared in Naitë Mélamar. Selvas has a helper now, an astrologer. How are our efforts?"
"The soldiers train in secret. Your Lord Brother approves and lets me manage the details, as you said he would. One who spoke against antagonizing the unblessed was shown the error of his ways."
"Good. We will discuss this tomorrow. Now, how is Edelmath?"
"A bit better, sir. A traveling healer was able to make him more attentive, though it has worn thin. He was from unblessed lands. Your Lord Brother wanted him to examine your son. He is gone now."
"Very well, pour me wine and bring my son to me."
Rohier left and was shortly replaced by the nanny leading young Edelmath by the hand. The child saw his father and ran to his affections. The father's possession, mixed with the last of his remaining love, poured into the boy like water in his lungs.
~o~
Even on a good road it was a hundred leagues to the Elvenking's capital. He had no reason to push the horse. The lords of Farnëmar would think him another charlatan. Even if they wanted to find him, they would not look south across the length of their own country. Nag Kath ate Lembas, stayed in the wild and started no conversations until he reached the Panduin or Full River separating the old Elves from the new.
Even after crossing, it was still three days to the city of Cantalori nestled in the foothills. Thranduil was a king, more than any other Elf in Nag Kath's admittedly limited exposure could claim. How, exactly, was another mystery to the changeling, but Thranduil took it seriously and insisted everyone else do so as well. Unlike the Elvenhalls near Dale, these ways were not guarded secretly. Farms spread as far as the eye could see. The city was brand new and had no surrounding walls. The king had seen the futility of those in wars where wars still happened. Without the men of the middle Third Age, trolls hid behind the Rammas Wall while they broke off blocks for the trebuchets.
The palace itself had walls. Nag Kath rode to the gate and handed the reins to a groom. A senior attendant came out to ask his business and heard, "I am Nag Kath here seeking an audience with His Lordship."
~o~
The functionary said dryly, "That is most unusual, Nag Kath."
"Agreed, but I am just from Middle-earth and have tidings."
The fellow mulled that a moment and said, "Sit here. This may take a while."
A while was three bells. The attendant was back out to say, "You have been granted a few minutes. This way."
Gaining the royal compound was much like it had been with every walkway narrowing to single-file at some point. There were probably wider approaches hidden behind the rock faces of the first cliffs. The attendant led and two ohtars fell in behind the changeling as they wove their way to a more comfortable and less intimidating throne room than in Mirkwood. Thranduil was waiting as Nag Kath bowed and presented himself at the prescribed distance.
The King looked down and said, "Well, you finally made it. I cannot say I am surprised Nag Kath."
"I will take that as a compliment, Your Lordship."
"And you have learned our language too. Remarkable. My lands are not easily reached, young person. Please explain your coming."
"A small accounting matter sir. I thought it better done personally."
Thranduil, a notorious skin-flint, became agitated and said, "Think you to make claim against me?!"
Nag Kath grinned before answering, "Quite the opposite." He turned and nodded to the attendant to who took a small box to his liege.
Thranduil slowly opened the lid and gazed at the flawless diamond necklace Nag Kath traded for the mithril band. He shut the box very gently and uttered, "The proverbial king's ransom." The Elven King swallowed and asked sternly, "What are your conditions?"
"None, My Lord. One of my joys has been restoring things to their rightful owners. I know you lost this in heartache. Please accept it in thanks for treating me better than I deserved all those years ago. Perhaps we can speak privately before I leave."
The King opened the box again. This had been his wife's. The necklace, like her, had never been replaced. Thranduil looked back at the changeling and said softly, "Yes, yes we shall do that." He brightened a little to say, "For once you are here with Prince Legolas. He governs our sister city on our eastern border but is in my Halls."
"I hope to see him, sir. That reminds me, I should like to visit the resting place of Gimli the Dwarf." The King of the Elves was lost in the necklace again but had the presence of mind to nod to a guard approving a trip to the cemetery.
~o~
This was Legolas' doing. Elves have small burial grounds. Massive losses in the wars of Middle-earth might earn all the dead a single stela, if they were ever found. Without war, few died. Gimli's grave was properly apart from those who would eventually find the Halls of Mandos. There were two symbols in the simple gray rock, one in Dwarvish and one in Sindarin. Both were the number nine.
Nag Kath had been part of truly great things, but nothing he had done, not even all of them combined, could compare to the Fellowship of the Ring. He hoped that did not weigh too heavily on Legolas. Being the last legend should not linger forever. The Elf sat down by the marker and wrapped his arms around his knees to watch Tilion drift across the sky. It was nearly the crescent moon of July. He would light candles if he could.
He felt the footsteps. Looking over his shoulder, Nag Kath rose to bow when Legolas said, "No, remain seated. I will join you."
After the Prince sat a few feet away the changeling was thoughtful, "This is a quiet and honored resting place. I am glad he has found this peace."
Legolas looked at the stela and offered, "I come here often to remember. He was dear to me."
Nag Kath looked at the Prince and said, "You helped him too. You tempered his views with wisdom and perspective."
Legolas shook his head for a few moments before responding, "Perhaps, though it did not bring him closer to his own kind."
"That is as well, My Lord. They have a hard road now that their rings are destroyed. Ages of ambition for wealth have not been replaced with fairer aspirations. I am very fond of them and my heart is torn for their future."
Legolas smiled, "You needn't tell anyone but I am fond of the red beer as well." The Prince stretched his legs and continued, "Now then, your long history seems to be repeating."
"I fear so. Gandalf sent me to the conservative gardhs, supposedly to confer with healers. I knew better before I left, but came just the same. There is deep trouble in Farnëmar."
"They agitate against those who returned later."
Nag Kath said emphatically, "There is a dark lord backing them. Melkor, I think, same as I removed from Lady Celebrían."
Legolas was very still. "You are sure? No, of course you are sure. Have you told father?"
"Not yet. We only met for a few minutes. I gave him back a necklace from the mithril exchange. Arwen said it was likely his. I did imply that I would like a private audience, but, I only impose on royalty after asking nicely first."
"He will see you. If not, I will. It seems none of us are quit of dark lords."
~o~
There were not many inns in Thranduil's city. As dawn approached, Nag Kath rose to get Shultö only to find the guard who brought them had waited. He said rooms had been prepared at the palace. His horse was already stabled so the two soldiers joined a number of Elves having the first wave of breakfast served in the commons.
Cantalori was an eye-opener. It was the first modern Elf city. The history, as explained by Elladan, was that only about a thousand of Thranduil's retainers held the area for the entire Third Age. It was well south of the more desirable regions near the only useable gap to the interior and not in demand. Thranduil and the bulk of his woodland people returned through Cirdan's southern harbor along the Panduin. Urthanos' lands directly east were the better coastal farmland and he had no trouble with a friendly neighbor colonizing into the foothills. Urthanos qualified to be one of the conservative lords but fell into the neutral category with quite a few Sindarin Elves as subjects.
Most of the Elven King's woodland folk had only arrived in the last five hundred years, including eight thousand after the Ring War. The climate and forests of the southern mountains were much like northern Mirkwood, although the stars here were those of Thân zîrân. Nag Kath supposed they were about the same distance south of Gondor.
With a great many people and no real place to put them, a massive building effort was set in place to make a new civilization of woodland folk. Plentiful rock from the mountains was quarried along with a great harvest of good (and cooperative) timber. It reminded Nag Kath of a huge Emyn Vierald. Below the Harnduin or Southern River began much colder and less fertile ground. It had farmers too, but they were few and isolated.
The Elf presumed His Lordship knew where to find him so he wandered the city proper looking for folk he might know. First on his list was Denethiur, the artist. He lived in the supported community just south of the palace. His young daughter Inhai opened the door and smiled but did not recognize the guest. Nag Kath said, "Good morning. I am Nag Kath calling to see if the artist Danethiur lives here."
"He does indeed sir. Please come in Nag Kath. I will let him know you are here."
While he waited, the Elf walked around the main room, more spacious than the old quarters, and looked at the art on the walls. The artist had followed his spirit of not including what wasn't needed and was much the better for it. One of Nag Kath's better watercolors was hanging as well.
Danethiur had no trouble remembering his collaborator and rushed out to greet him hands clasped in the western fashion. The missus, whose name was Inhura, also came out for a more conventional bow. Inhai, who at only one hundred fifty years old was not yet of marriageable age, served tea and joined them. In the way of modern women, she was allowed to speak at table.
They enjoyed each others' company for several hours talking about art, history, battles, art again and many of Nag Kath's unbelievable adventures. Danethiur knew Gimli a little from his years here after the Dwarf lived with Galadriel and Celeborn. The ground in between was not hospitable so when he came here with Legolas, he stayed. The scholar Tulferath lived only a block away and Danethiur would be sure they met. With promises of a grand dinner, the changeling was on his way for one more visit.
Loniel, the healer of Emyn Vierald lived in one of the lower city neighborhoods. Most injuries came from the fields so it was usual for physicians to be close to their patients. Nag Kath knocked on the door which was answered by a handsome Quendu as large as him. Nag Kath smiled that the beautiful woman had found a husband. The smile was misinterpreted as general good nature, which was also true. The visitor said, "I am Nag Kath, a healer from foreign lands and I wanted to say hello to Loniel if she is here."
The tall Elf smiled as well, "Welcome. Please come in. She is getting fresh herbs in the stalls but should be back presently. Would you like tea?"
Nag Kath had enough tea already but accepted to be polite. This tasted different than the other brews he had in Aman. The fellow sat down as well and said, "I am Heziathar. Loniel and I are recently married."
"Congratulations Heziathar. I met your wife in Emyn Vierald." He did not add the circumstances. Heziathar was a civil administrator for city upkeep so they talked about what Nag Kath had done around the east. Elves considered the aqueduct to be a blight so he left that out too. It was only a quarter-bell before the lady of the home returned with a basket. Both males rose.
Upon seeing Nag Kath, she put her hand over her mouth in surprise and then the two bowed equally. She said, "My, this is a surprise, Mr. Nag. I did not think to see you on this side."
"I am only just arrived a year ago in Harvién and had business here. I hope you do not mind my asking after you."
She smiled, "No, not at all." Somewhat tentatively, "Was your journey without incident?"
Heziathar was interested in that too. Nag Kath replied, "A bit of bother in Farnëmar. It seems they are not enchanted with Dark Elves."
Heziathar commented, "Correct. We have what we need here and were used to that in the woodland realm. Our neighbor Urthanos trades with us gladly, so we are removed from northern tensions."
Loniel knew a deal more about the wandering healer's political past than almost anyone here in Aman. His business was almost certainly those very tensions. On that assumption she probed, "Are your healing powers the same as before, Mr. Nag?"
"Please, just Nag Kath. Stronger, considerably stronger."
She said primly, "You had other skills as well."
"Also stronger."
Loniel told Heziathar about the healer who showed her the clarity spell, but not by name and not much about the beast pool. Here among the most recently arrived, Nag Kath had no trouble explaining his quest, "There are concerns that old friends seek to return. I wanted to ask if you have needed to repair confusion in your practice, especially lately."
This was important and in the interests of her Lord so she answered, "I have not, but I have heard there are those to the northeast who have shown symptoms like the tainted water. Understand, not much from those lands filters to our ears."
Nag Kath pressed, "Recently?"
"Yes, in the last five seasons."
Heziathar was concerned for his wife and asked firmly, "Dear, is this something you would rather not discuss?"
She realized the line of questions might make it seem the visitor was imposing. Loniel said quickly, "No, husband. Nag Kath is very much on the right side of difficulty, if difficulty there is." She lilted the end of that sentence to make it a query for the guest.
"Possibly, and forgive me for being so forward. I will travel to those lands before long. Do you know the healer Daelor?"
Loniel replied, "Know of. She is famous among our people."
"I've been advised to seek her counsel. A word of warning, fair healer, if you come across the kind of confusion I mentioned, do not use the clarity spell and do not touch them. The confusion is not of their making nor can it be cured by the craft we discussed. If you encounter it, send a message to King Thranduil that a Mr. Yvsuldor is visiting."
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~
Nag Kath had lunch and went back to the palace in the early afternoon. The King had not sent for him. He would stay until then or two weeks. That was probably harvest time in Naitë Mélamar. If there was militia activity, he wanted to see it. It was possibly a time when farm workers would be traveling to assist in neighboring fields and not seem so out of place on the roads.
First he would visit the harbor of Lord Cirdan. The road was safe and he might get excellent counsel before entering the dragon's lair. That was a hundred leagues from here, like almost everything else. Men might resent traveling a month to give away a priceless necklace but Thranduil's cost was information. Nag Kath would give him the opportunity to participate.
It was another two leisurely days of looking at architecture before an ohtar, this time a Captain, came to request his presence.
This was not an audience in the great hall. Thranduil was sitting on a stone bench in a side garden. The ohtar pointed the way and withdrew. Nag Kath walked forward and bowed. The King waved his hand at the bench next to his then said softly, "At first I was excited. Then I realized how much the necklace reminded me of her. I will not marry again, but I will treasure your gift and the kindness of your gesture.
"You have grown, Nag Kath. You became what you should have. I am closer to my son and through him I developed a fondness for Gimli as Gimli had for you. It was he who told me you took only a handful of the jewels of Frôr. He did not know they included the necklace. What both Gimli and Legolas did know was that you were often fighting the darkness left behind." The King paused a moment, "Is that why you are here now?"
Nag Kath nodded, "It is."
The King said, "Tell me of getting here and of my friends to the north."
That took half a bell. Thranduil asked intelligent questions here and there but mostly let the changeling recite his oft-said story. And like all of the lords who should know, he asked, "Morgoth?"
"Yes sir. Twice now. The first was old and lost. The one above you was newer. It would help me to know how Meliath and Lindareth get along."
The King held his chin before answering, "Until lately I would have said poorly. I know from hard lessons that those who hold the past over their enemies do so to their supposed friends too. In the last few years I think they sharpen their tongues against those of us who are newer or returned to this place."
"Sir, which of them holds the stronger hand?"
"Meliath. He has more people, soldiers, access, that is the largest gardh in Eldamar. His weakness is that he talks bolder than he acts."
Nag Kath tiptoed in, "Sir, do you know of a Selvas?"
Thranduil grinned, "He is new to high counselor but nothing is known of his family. That is unusual where people need provenance."
"Is he a wizard?"
"That I do not know. What do you think?"
The changeling answered, "My money is on him with sorcery afoot. Can the two lords between them field enough force to crush Galadriel and Elrond?"
"Certainly, but they will take a beating for it. Those miserable Silmarils still set our destiny."
Nag Kath asked a question he had no right to, "Sir, if Lindareth marches on your old allies, will you harass his rearguard?" Nag Kath was a junior ambassador without portfolio, sent by a meddling wizard. The King thought the changeling could be trusted, but that single issue determined the safety of his realm.
"I cannot say yes or no. I tell you this; my armies never truly stood-down. We train to defend at the bridges. We also train to take them. Galadriel or Celeborn and Elrond have to make that request. My son watches from his city as well."
"I can ask no more, Your Highness. There is a healer of your people I met in Emyn Vierald who suspects dark sorcery in Meliath's lands. If you receive a note that a Mr. Yvsuldor is visiting, I respectfully suggest you hear her concerns."
Thranduil rose, "Thank you for coming, Nag Kath. I mean that."
~o~
That night, Nag Kath left a candle burning until dawn for the new moon. The next day he had dinner with Danethiur and made for the coast.
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~
This road was not to the standard of the older ones. It was fine for a horse but not for an army with their supplies in wagons. The roads coming down from the Panduin bridges looked sound. After a week, there were fewer farms. This was the border region between Thranduil and the neutral Urthanos. Like the rest of this vast plain, it looked like it could grow anything one planted. There just weren't enough people to eat it.
Four days east he reached the confluence of the Athradduin and Panduin. Roads on both sides of the river were busy with merchant traffic hauling goods to and from the harbor. Many craftsmen and smiths were included among the farmers. People looked more at his horse than him and the folk of neutral Urthanos were friendly. He shared an ale with some of them at a tavern that was the most like those of Middle-earth he had seen in this reserved land.
~o~
It was another three days to reach Cirdan's harbor and fief of Miquhwesta which included an extra day of being ferried across the bay to avoid Naitë Mélamar soldiers on the north side of the main bridge. The city Vílënost was exquisite, Mithlond in the west except with vibrant people. It included the bay and sea-side of a peninsula. The river wasn't a wild mess of deltas like Gondor. Rock banks kept the flows contained but it was clear they could rise quite a bit in spring.
Nag Kath thought there might be four thousand people in the fifty mile length of Miquhwesta. The northern half of the strip was farms like everywhere else. The south bay was the best anchorage below Alqualondë. As with the rest of Elvendom, there were no signs to say where folk were. Nag Kath bounced through several likely offices until he found Lord Cirdan's headquarters. He was told the great mariner was in port but seldom here. The Elf wrote a quick note, added it to Gandalf's and asked for the name of a reputable inn. For dinner he had some sort of Odar. It didn't matter which. It was sublime after inland food for a year. A stroll through the city had Nag Kath thinking he could easily live here.
Dawn did nothing to change that view. He told the innkeeper he was going to the wharf and took his sketch pad to draw gulls circling the fishing boats. Perhaps sentient beings needed approval to get here, but these birds looked just like their cousins in Dol Amroth. The work flowed and he was well into his third sketch when he felt the presence. Nag Kath tucked the board under his arm and walked to a small grove of trees lining the quay road where a lone figure was sitting on a bench. Gandalf told him Cirdan was one of the few Elves with a beard. He was unimaginably old and wise, of the Sindar Elves and the ferryman for returning Quendi since time before time.
The changeling walked close and bowed in silence. The old Elf's face split into a wry smile to say, "I saw your little boat."
That earned a smile in return, "I shamelessly borrowed from your designs, My Lord."
"Come, sit here next to me so I can decide what to make of you."
Nag Kath did. What started as an avuncular assessment changed as Cirdan looked closely. He held the Elf's face as Elrond had done with Inariel and said, "How is this possible? You are the very image of Nomaral." The mariner shook his head, "No, he perished with his entire company so very long ago." Cirdan took his hands from the motionless Nag Kath but not his gaze. Then he slowly said, "Forgive me. The resemblance is remarkable."
The changeling forgave him by saying, "I may very well be Nomaral reborn. It is an interesting story, but will take all day to tell."
Cirdan rose from the bench and said, "Long stories are my favorite. Come to my home and tell me over tea."
~o~
In direct contrast to other Elven lords, Cirdan lived quite simply. His home here was a mansion, yes, but not a fortress. There were a few guards in civilian garments and an adequate assortment of household servants who took one look at the guest and brought tea and cakes to the master's minimally-appointed office. The two Elves sat in chairs and attended their tea mugs waiting for the maid to shut the door behind her.
Cirdan took a sip and said, "Reborn you say?"
"At least twice." Nag Kath would have told Cirdan anything. Even as much as he got out of his mouth took four bells. In a life with few surprises left, the mariner was very interested in the sorcery. The changeling saw him turn the ring Narya on his finger a few times as if it was too tight. Cirdan bore it at the heights of its power, trusting it to Gandalf's wisdom and need against Sauron.
Cirdan noticed Nag Kath's eyes on his hands and said, "So, you know of this ring?"
"Gandalf let me wear it. He wanted to see if it enhanced my powers."
"Did it?"
Nag Kath grinned, "Not that we noticed. Saruman's staff head was another matter."
They were nearing the dinner hour when they got to the mithril band and removing Morgoth from the blood. It was clear the story was nowhere near complete so they took a needed break after so much tea and sitting. In the hall, Cirdan called for his steward and said, "This is Nag Kath who will be staying with us for a while. Please see to the green room and dinner, and have someone fetch his things and horse from his inn."
The Quendu nodded and started to turn when Nag Kath said, "My Lord, I need to go as well. There are strong wards on my bags that will keep even the clear-minded from them. I shouldn't be long."
When the changeling left with one of the household staff, Cirdan took off Narya and looked closely. The power was gone but it once had the ability to inspire resistance to tyranny. There was no need after the One Ring was destroyed …
… no need until now.
Yet again in the last fifty years he wondered if Morgoth was seeping into the world from a pinhole in the curtain. Cirdan never met Gimli. He met Legolas at a large gathering with no mention of Nag Kath. Gandalf mentioned him when they sailed here together but at that time, the changeling was still a gangling half-orc.
The oddest thing was that Nag Kath's powers had grown, not greatly, but against an age when the ability to summon humors unto oneself had diminished. Cirdan would keep the curious creature here as long as it took to discover what he needed because he and Gandalf usually agreed on the nature of threats. The mariner was witness to the astonishing hubris and childishness of the firstborn, their blindness to the damage they did themselves. It had been long years since they had done anything truly foolish. The time was ripe.
Such contentions were supported. Meliath's advocates agitated against Cirdan's colony here because of the transporting Elves back to the land where they belonged. Most of Thranduil's people came to this very harbor. If even a half-dozen Naitë militias attacked his modest outpost, they would overrun it in days. Unlike the more recently arrived Lords, the mariner had eyes in the world, including Meliath's capital Arnost. His lads also watched Meliath's spies here, at least, some of them.
What made this fascinating and horrifying was the possibility that the haughty fellow-Teleri Meliath was in league with the blackest and most powerful Ainu who ever stalked the earth. Morgath would still need help. He was a dog scratching through a door. Having someone open it would be easier. The Kath creature's contention that there had been an older attempt to secure his freedom with that mithril band had merit. It alone was not enough or it would have been done. But enough of him squeezed through the crack to suggest he was waiting and, possibly, watching. Meliath was just witless enough to hitch his star to darkness.
Yes, Nag Kath would be staying as long as it took. That was not so onerous. The youngster seemed a very nice fellow and the most interesting thing that had happened in a while, a new grandchild finding his way. The grandson returned about a bell later with his horse and travel bag. Dinner conversation got away from the dark-side. Nag Kath talked about his art and what it had meant to him. He glowed described building and healing. There was no subtlety to his expressions. He warmed when describing his wife, Elrond's granddaughter of all people! Tomorrow they would talk about the practical aspects of the coming fight.
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~
Nag Kath stayed in Cirdan's home and they usually spent two hours a day mostly discussing the new Elf's quest. Nag Kath said he was now one-hundred forty-six, too young to have wed once, never mind at the age of four. What the ancient mariner was not expecting was the changeling's grasp of military strategy and tactics. He was of an age to be a very junior officer but the Quendu had generalled, and done it well. He knew siege defenses better than Cirdan who had never ridden in cavalry.
Nag Kath knew quite a bit about sailing too. That was refreshing. Elves only plied the deep blue sea at great need. His tale of building a ship and sailing to the lands below Dol Amroth kept Cirdan on the edge of his chair. The supposition that there was a like bay coming in from an eastern sea supported evidence Cirdan had heard before the Dark Numenoreans even got there. Hurling fire and tossing sailors off enemy ships was handy.
Nag Kath received wise instruction and was deeply grateful that the esteemed Lord had granted him such precious time. Cirdan gave the young Elf something he had been seeking almost his whole life during an in-depth conversation about Orlo and his resistance to Sauron. Nag Kath described the eastern retreats, including his own. Those were astonishing. How could a secret sect of opposition have survived the harshest conditions on earth? Elves and Valar had given up on their fate.
Almost in passing, the changeling said, "Orlo also had adherents in the lands of Nurad, though he used a different name."
"And what was that, Nag Kath?"
"Stámo."
Cirdan beetled his brows and asked, "Stámo as in Rómestámo?"
Nag Kath shook his head, "I have no idea."
The mariner folded his hands in his lap as pieces fell into place. The youngster waited more patiently than one might expect at his age. Cirdan said softly, "Rómestámo was one of the wizards. I sailed him to Middle-earth with his order-brothers Alatar and your old friend Saruman."
The elder Elf ran his fingers through his beard, deep in thought, before continuing, "He and Alatar were the blue wizards, Istari. There were five of them. I took Gandalf and Radagast on the previous Swan-ship. Now, what was his other name … Pallando, he was Pallando. The blue wizards went to the east and were never seen again. When Saruman's treachery was discovered, we wondered if he had betrayed them."
Nag Kath was able to shed light on that, "Perhaps. Orlo told me that before Sauron could destroy him, he was reduced to a spirit only to return three days a year, the crescent moon of July. I lit my candle a few weeks ago in his memory." The youngster brightened and said, "Ah!" Then he collected his satchel and started sketching. Cirdan had not paid any attention to boats and birds but he was impressed by how Nag Kath could draw from memory. The first portrait was the old boatwright with his enigmatic smile. Cirdan seemed to recognize him just like everyone else. The second was the bearded face Nag Kath thought might be a younger Gandalf.
Cirdan stared before saying, "That is your fellow."
So the wizard had not failed. He weakened Sauron's forces from deep in their heart. He would never have a carved statue here or Middle-earth but Rómestámo finally qualified. Nag Kath did not mention the gureeq seed in his pack. Orlo told him that was his decision alone.
After two weeks, Nag Kath's entire brain had been poured into the wise Lord's ears. Cirdan liked the youngster and also saw the wisdom in Gandalf sending him to stir the hornets. The young Elf asked after the healer and the likely dark candidate. Cirdan decided he had to share secret information if he was truly in this intrigue so he said, "The healer is indeed a healer, though I do not know if she is in accord with her ruler's policy. Selvas? He is new. He keeps himself from view."
Nag Kath said grimly, "I know the type. My Lord, to get close to him I will need a better disguise than itinerant healer. I got my horse in Alqualondë. Will these Naitë lordlings spot that?"
"I should think so."
"Good. I'll need better tack and merchant's apparel of that city. Is there something from the north that commands fawning attention in the provinces?"
Cirdan considered the youngster and allowed himself a small smile, "Jewels."
Nag Kath asked while he stroked his chin, "Jewels like Traybor diamonds?"
"You took the words right out of my mouth, young Quendu. King Thranduil said he has an astrologer assistant. What do you know of that craft?"
The youngster nodded slightly, "Enough to look gullible. It has been my approach to appear an earnest but inexperienced adherent, just the sort that those who claim expertise like to take advantage of. With a little magic here and there I can make things seem the way I want and make people do what I want."
Cirdan cast a little doubt with the healer's boast, "And if those fail?"
"I'll kill them. If it keeps Melkor in the bottle, I will take every head in the room."
Cirdan finally understood. As much as Nag Kath's healing and caring and love sustained him, he was a born assassin. Gandalf chose well.
~o~
It was time for the mariner to cast his lot. "Young Elf, I will help you. Riding a horse from here will taint your entry into Arnost. If you are a diamond merchant from the prestigious city of Alqualondë, you need to impress the rustics by arriving in style by ship at their port of Huorëlorn. I will take you myself."
"This is too kind, noble sir."
"Kind; no. Needed; yes. What else do you need?"
"Spices."
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~
It seemed impossible Nag Kath knew something that Cirdan didn't, but the great Elf got an education in the weasely art of advance publicity. A quiet-man was dispatched to Meliath's capital spreading rumors that a representative of Yandieth and Solvanth would be arriving to speak to the fancy about jewels recently on the market from the great mines of Middle-earth. The Elves from Middle-earth they could do without, but they had no compunction about the baubles.
Cirdan was familiar with widespread rumors. Captain Penandoth told Nag Kath that the object was to make high lords think someone in their city was getting precious objects they were not. Who was excluded in the ruse was more important than who was told. Aman did not have mercantile empires as in the east, but even more so, there was a hierarchy for anything worth having. Seeding information in the middle would reach the top confused.
Nag Kath showed Cirdan the gems he brought for bribery. One of the few red stones would fit in Narya. The changeling gave it to him as a spare. An impressive saddle was made to re-hide coins and gems against a hurried exit. Clothes from Alqualondë were found and fitted. One poor attendant was charged with the changeling's unfortunate hair. It was long enough for the woman to actually make it look Elvish. Cirdan's steward wondered if he had a touch of Vanyar blood.
It was time to talk about that blood. Nomaral was a young Teleri Elf of Thingol's army whose troop was slain by orcs at the first battle of Beleriand. The tide turned when Thingol's troops arrived attempting to rescue Denethor's Laiquendi but it was a fearful slaughter. If Nomaral was taken and tortured into an orc, it was done well after the common orcs were already bred in strength for that war. That seemed possible since Nag Kath was of the powerful Uruk strain that did not appear until later. Morgoth would have constantly improved the herd. Cirdan met Nomaral when the young officer was the quartermaster's aid for transporting supplies from the fleet to inland troops. Nag Kath seemed taller and broader across the shoulders but it was a long time ago.
The changeling took all of Cirdan's suppositions about his heritage in stride. Cirdan found no particularly loyalties or animosities towards the varied peoples of Aman. Thousands of generations of orc breeding had removed the Elvish draw to this continent so he was an Elf in body and mind only. Did he have a soul? Was it the soul that was pulled Elves to the Undying Lands? The only ones who could answer that were in their halls with unknown interests in the children of Eldamar.
For another week, Nag Kath learned how not to trip in Teleri robes, studied astrological terms in Quenya and spent a great deal of time with Cirdan's Spymaster Elurín, who would be his new Listracht. There was a lot to know, or excuses for not knowing it.
At first, Cirdan's head of 'ears and eyes' thought the lad was hopeless but then began to see ability. A few days before they left, the warrior joined Nag Kath in the courtyard for morning slow-swords to see what the greenbottom could do. Making the same mistake as everyone else, the teacher became the pupil with purple bruises that would take even an Elf a couple days to heal. Nag Kath needed his 'assistant' to understand so for the last move, he was suddenly behind Elurín with his beater under the warrior's throat. Skills like that could overcome walking like a farmer. With some revulsion, Elurín also watched the sorcerer curse a fresh batch of Lostorin from local ingredients.
~o~
It was time to go. Cirdan used a known ship that plied the coastal routes. Shultö had little trouble getting on board and into a well-designed stall. The great mariner kept well offshore and looped around the Naitë port so he would appear to have come from the north. With a sea voyage of two hundred leagues, the three had a lot of time for final planning. Ostensibly, Captain Quendül was in charge, but he was first mate until they docked with Cirdan below-decks.
Cirdan wanted to know if the arrogant Meliath actually meant to use his army to back his boasts about removing impure elements from the land. It sounded like Lindareth was involved too. If those two had patched their rivalries, there was nothing to stop Lindareth from crossing the Athradduin except tradition.
The question in everyone's minds was the contested ground between Meliath and Galadriel/Celeborn. Meliath would have to cross it whether he gave it back or not. Meliath's gripe was more with Galadriel than Elrond. Taking his war further north got him too close to the neutral Teleri Lord Felaour who controlled all of the land between the northern rivers except Elrond's mountain crags. Meliath had to go through Galadriel and Celeborn's Penethornost to reach Elrond or pass through Felaour's southern lands, and that would mean a real war. Neutral was not the same as unwary.
~o~
~o~o~o~
~o~