Unanchored

Book Two of Nag Kath

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Chapter 1

Coming to Being

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The maps of Ithilien are helpful for this and future chapters. The URL for those is in my profile.

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Nag Kath took the Dwarf Road to Celduin Village and then back towards Dale. He did not make it that far. His plan was to discover more about himself. And he had to do that with the Elves. First he stopped to see Eniece's parents. She was still fit and strong but Elmos was failing. They knew he had to leave. He stayed an extra day to see Eniece's lifelong friends and then took the Forest Road to Thranduil's Halls. There were a number of Elves still there. He heard the birdsong as he approached the checkpoint and respectfully dismounted to watch the world go by.

Two ohtars soundlessly slipped out of the brush. They wore the same brown and green garments as past troops but their hair was darker. Nag Kath bowed in their manner and greeted them in his halting Sindarin. One asked, "Are you traveling through to the Grey Havens?"

"No, I came to visit the Elven Kingdom and learn what I may."

"The Ñoldor have all left."

"I am sorry, your tongue is not my own. Who are the Ñoldor?"

The sentries wondered if he had been left behind on purpose. The other said, "The Ñoldorin are those who returned. We are Nandor of the Silvan. We remain."

"Then I am pleased to meet you. I am Nag Kath. Are you the keepers of the Great Halls?"

The first one replied, "We are. And you should come with us. Do you know the way?"

"Yes, I do." Nag Kath walked Regaldin along with them.

"The second Elf said, "You must forgive our appalling manners, Nag Kath. It has been some time since we have seen an Elf coming from this side of the mountains. I am Destirfin and this is Legantiir. May I ask what brings you here if not passage to the sea?"

Nag Kath said amiably, "I want to learn more about the Elvish people. I know very little."

Now sure they had a simpleton, Legantiir offered hopefully, "Perhaps we can find answers ahead."

There were no guards, no livery, no exquisite robes. These were working Elves. The ohtars took Nag Kath to an antechamber and presented him to a tall, brown-haired Quendu with chiseled features. Speaking in a language he had not heard before, his escorts conferred with their chief and waited. The chiseled Elf squared up to Nag Kath and said in Sindarin, "I am Fearnold. Thought you to visit Thranduil's court?"

"No, Fearnold. I knew him long gone. I came to see the city itself and to learn more about Elfkind."

Not quite sure how to approach that from someone who looked like Nag Kath he wondered, "Are you new to the subject?"

"Yes, Fearnold. I am but one and twenty years old and have always lived among men."

It was possible. "Well, most of the libraries are gone. And the teachers with them."

"Please tell me if this is not my business, but why are you still here, Fearnold?"

We have chosen to stay in our home and resist the call of Valinor. We were subjects of the Sindar and do not want to continue that in a new place. The Nandor are …" looking to his Elves, "… more of earth and sky."

Nag Kath said, "In any event, I am most pleased to meet you and glad to learn what I can of your people."

Fearnold could not be insulted by that. "Very well. I'm sorry, your name?"

"Nag Kath"

"You may stay as long as you like. You must hunt or do other work, though. We are quit of table service in the Elvenking's halls."

"Thank you, Fearnold. I will make myself useful.

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And he did. He performed any task they asked except hunting. Fearnold had underestimated the books and other historical items. Not only were there volumes, two of the Elves were avid readers and historians. Nag Kath would spend three or four hours with them or exploring the Halls and the rest of the time he cleaned or worked wood for building and craft. That earned him his rations which was all he needed.

Eniece still pushed her way into his thoughts. He would have asked the Elves how to clear his mind but he wanted her there. She was with him, encouraging him. That was a legacy of love.

Two weeks into his visit, Nag Kath wandered up to the throne room. It was unused now. In a corridor leading downstairs he saw his waterfall picture. Most of the other pictures had been removed. He studied it for a time, both critically and as a measure of how time had passed. He hoped it would be there in a thousand years.

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Most of Nag Kath's learning was on healing. There were several volumes, perhaps duplicates of books taken, that dealt with Elvish medicines. Going through them was painstaking. Elvish languages changed over the eras. He read Sindarin better than he spoke it, but his learned friends did not mind being asked intelligent questions. Only one small chapter in one book was devoted to spells and applications of humors. Healers of that sort were as rare among Elves as among men.

Nag Kath established himself as the simple cousin of Elvendom which gave him excellent cover to ask oblique questions about supposedly sorcerous Elvish healers of antiquity. Folk knew of Elrond, now just as gone as Thranduil. And the Quenda of Lorien had greater powers but she was over the sea with her husband. That family had not been close to the northern Elves since the Second Age. None here had such talents or were much interested. They were very skilled in herbs and woodcraft. He had to tell himself; Elves did not need much healing.

It wasn't all labor. Elves paid close attention to the stars – not as astrologers trying to divine the future. They looked to Queen Varda's pagentry and paid special care watching the Star of Eärendil when it appeared in the dusk sky. Work stopped when it shone. Some sang songs or recited verses in thanks for their many blessings.

Nag Kath also absorbed what he could of Elvish architecture. Largely in Quenya, he studied the pictures and made copies. Often he redrafted structures he had designed in Dale and thought he could have made better. Hard work away from the library kept him fit. After two months among these people, he was granted permission to use the Elvish trail that brought him to this place so long ago and saddled Regaldin for the trip south.

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The changeling remembered the turns even though the path was less used. Three days later he reached the Old Forest Road and turned west. Along the way he looked for the poisoned streams. Not only were they not fouled, they weren't even there, as if filled-in by wholesome dirt. Near the western edge of the forest he took a long break. For eight days he rested and sketched pictures of birds and other animals of the greenwood. His patience was rewarded. The area was called Rhosgobel and the old, brown wizard spoke to him as he boiled water. "Well, it seems I am just in time for tea. With whom do I have the pleasure?"

Nag Kath turned to the sound and bowed. "It is Nag Kath, honored Radagast. We last met at Orthanc."

"Yes, yes, of course." The old man walked right up to him and put his hand on Nag Kath's face. "You drew those pretty birds."

Nag Kath said softly, "I can only offer you a log to sit but my house is yours." The water was just hot enough so he pinched tea leaves in the pot to let it steep. Then he sat next to his guest.

Radagast looked him in the eye and said, "It seems you have done well."

"I have, thank you. I have been long in Dale living quietly. Now I will widen my horizons."

The old wizard considered that and mused, "Both good. It would have taken this long to sort all of the things you are ... perhaps long enough to for those on the route to forget old troubles. But tell me, Nag Kath, I sense a heavy heart. Is that something you should leave behind?"

"I am recently widowed and she comes to me unbidden. I do not regret that."

"Gandalf told me before he left that you were a student of right ways. I am glad to see they continue."

"While we are waiting for our tea, here is a bird I just drew. I thought you would like it for your home."

Nag Kath took the sketch-board leaning against a log and gave it to the brown wizard. He looked at it for the longest time. "That is a forest thrush. They are often close to me."

With that, Nag Kath poured the tea into tin cups and handed one to his guest. They tinked the cups in toast and sipped a little. Neither of them said anything else for a few minutes. Finally, Radagast asked, "What are your plans from here, young Elf?"

"As you said, though I did not know it then, I needed a long time to fit the pieces into place. I confess; I have been a bit lazy, always busy, but too much concerned with my little world. As Gandalf advised, I want to learn more about healing, and something of myself in the doing."

Nag Kath looked directly to him and added, "I sought you for a purpose. My healing skills amount to pulling common ailments from people and retching afterwards. I could not save Eniece." The Elf took a sip of tea and continued, "After I left Orthanc and was making my way across Dunland I met the Wild Huntsman. He came to slay me. I told him I was a mild healer, and that he should speak with you and Gandalf about returning home now that his labors were done." Nag Kath chuckled, "That made him want to kill me even more but I talked him out of it. The giant placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a rainbow of colors through his gaze, said I should take it for his sake. I think it was a healing gift. Do you know?"

"The Huntsman never found me. I do not know him very well." Radagast rose and lifted his staff leaning on the log. Magic staffs had not been enjoyable for Nag Kath but he would grin and bear it. The wizard simply set the butt of the staff in the dirt and watched the small crystal on the head glow. Then he whistled softly and muttered, "You don't seem particularly evil. Come with me."

Nag Kath was always surprised by how fast these wizards moved. To all eyes they were old men with walking staffs but he had to keep up with his long strides. Radagast led Nag Kath who led Regaldin along what could barely be called a trail. Four bells later they reached an amazing shack. Now with some building experience under his belt, Nag Kath could not see what kept it from collapsing. Radagast told him to make the horse comfortable in a small shed and waited to escort him in the home.

The inside seemed bigger than it looked from outside but in no better repair. Ever the landlord, Nag Kath saw a few leaks on the planks – no more than any old house. Radagast walked over to his kitchen area and somehow manufactured a warm meal in minutes. Bringing it to his small table he recalled, "Do you still not eat meat?"

"Yes, honored Radagast. Since the gaol I cannot abide the smell or taste."

The wizard said, "Hummph", and sat with the portions. There was no meat on his plate either.

They had said little on the trail. Now with dinner served, Radagast explained, "Power springs from many places. Saruman reached his through air. That was probably how he could change the weather. Gandalf controls fire. Mine comes from earth, mostly. I can't say about the Huntsman but I sensed in you power coming from water. He may have been simply testing you. Most healers find theirs in water also. Yours is stronger. How much remains to be seen."

Nag Kath asked, "And the colors?"

The wizard furrowed his brow before saying, "I do not know but I can't help but think that the colors identify sorcery. Do you see colors in healing?"

"Yes. I am silver. Men are shades of yellow. I feel evil in green, green and black combined." He had another bite, "I have worked with two female healers and they both said that for the longest time, the dark Lord dominated fell influences. Saruman hardly signified. That did not mean they owned or controlled all magic. Some humors were malign and yet unaffiliated with the Lords. Some wandered off on their own so long ago that they were not controlled by the rings of power."

Radagast nodded, "I agree, serpents and beasts hiding in foul pools answer to no one. We have friends too but they are only seen when they choose. Don't suppose you have met any Balrogs?"

Nag Kath shook his head and then thought out loud, "Miss Quessan said that with the Lords gone, powers would seek me."

Radagast hardened, "That is why you must be strong! Ancient forces need someone up here to wield them. That can go very wrong. You must trust to your nature. Never accept abilities without a reason or because it is easy. That is your lifelong test, Nag Kath."

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Radagast was content to let the Elf stay as long as he wanted. Most days they only spoke for an hour or two because the wizard was abroad in the forest. Sometimes they went together but said little. Nag Kath wondered if the wizard's very presence healed the hurts of Dol Goldur.

In his third week there, Nag Kath had sketched how he could repair a storm shutter on Radagast's largest window. The pencil rolled away on the lopsided table. The wizard told him to call it to him. The Elf strained his head trying to influence the stubborn pencil but it would not budge.

"You are trying too hard, Nag Kath. Draw from water and imagine the pencil pulling to your hand through your feet, as if on a string." The pencil sat there mocking him. "We will try that again."

He left the pencil on the table. He tried to bring it for the next three nights until it moved half a roll. Radagast was right. The 'Fast' came from water as well. It was something drawing through him. As with the brown wizard's ability to nurture plants and beasts, the power was not inside him. He was the conduit. That was what Miss Quessan called it too.

Another thing the brown wizard told Nag Kath was that freed powers from earth and water were finding their way into trees that could think, talk and move in greater numbers than before. The Ring War had woken them from millennia of slumber and they were flexing their muscles, in a manner of speaking. The balance between forests and the tree shepherds was broken. Ents were few and dwindling. It might be long years before trees challenged man for territory, but it was coming.

When it was time to go, Nag Kath sat next to the wizard and said, "I want to thank you for your trust. There can't be many of me in this world to try your patience."

Radagast wondered, "Probably just you."

"Where do you think I should go for more answers?"

"Gandalf thought to keep you from Elves early on but they are largely gone, except for your new friends in Thranduil's halls. I think you should try Rivendell. Some of you comes from Saruman but most of you is Elf. To understand yourself you must understand them."

Nag Kath gave a small smile, "Not an easy place to find."

Radagast said, "True. And it is that way on purpose. Take out your map and your new magic pencil. There are several turns that cannot possibly be correct that you must take regardless."

They parted the next day as friends with promises to meet again. Nag Kath nudged Regaldin towards the pass.

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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_

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A half-day's ride brought horse and rider to the Old Ford. At this time of year the Anduin was not as treacherous as spring but he was not looking forward to swimming it. He didn't have to. Merchants along with regional governments had built a new bridge. The river tightened and ran deeper because of solid rock faces on either side of flow. It would have been an exciting project and for the first time in oh so many years, he wondered if the huge oliphaunts had helped.

From there he was only another day and a half to the foothills climbing the Misty Mountains. The High Pass was as he remembered. He also remembered it was steeper on the windward side so he paced Regaldin who made it with only minor slips in the shale. This was also where he had to start looking for trails that should not be there. Nag Kath memorized the map but still referred to it frequently.

There it was. The crushed rock looked no different than any of the crumbles sliding down the hill. They turned left and started back up a steep grade. After several turns, the path became much smoother, almost manicured. They walked slowly up for another half hour when they hit the side of a mountain. That was good. Unwelcome folk who got this far would turn around.

Nag Kath led Regaldin downhill to the right another league and saw the crack in the stone. From the path it was only a shadow. Staying on foot they followed the seam until it cleared into an opening. To the eye it was just more shale but he could hear the Bruinen now, flowing strong and fast as it washed a thousand feet down in less than two miles. He felt a wind pushing against him but there was no breeze ... a ward against men perhaps?

Pressing on, another half hour brought them to the most amazing view he had ever seen, the valley of Imladris and the last Homely House of Elrond. By this point he expected to see sentries. He had also heightened the 'Fast' if he had to pick arrows out of the air. Ten years before he had an archer shoot cloth tipped arrows at him to see if he could snatch them. He got about half. The problem was that the condition only lasted a split second and arrows could come in waves. Hearing them in flight was the trigger.

It took another half hour to reach the courtyard using paths that concerned Nag Kath more than Regaldin. They were made for Elves on horses and his horse understood that sooner than he did. Tying Regaldin to the post he saw several Elves walking into the building beside the great hall. They looked at him but kept about their business. As long as his luck was holding he thought to see the library first. That was just off the main hall in the second level if Radagast's memory was right.

It must have been magnificent twenty years ago. It still was for just the architectural elements but there were only perhaps two hundred books or paper boxes left on the shelves. No matter! They took what they wanted but that did not mean they took everything worth learning! Keeping an ear out for his horse, Nag Kath walked the rows looking at titles and box labels. Many were in Quenya which meant they would just have to wait.

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Rounding one row of shelves he almost ran into a small creature beyond his experience. The fellow was between the height of a dwarf and a hobbit but rail thin with a huge hooked nose presiding over a long wispy mustache and beard. He thought this might be a gnome. The creature was dressed much like the Sylvan Elves but had breeches with hose ringed in red and white and a tall hat.

The fellow stared at him for a moment and rasped in Sindarin, "Who are you?"

"I am Nag Kath."

"Orc six?!"

"So I'm told."

"Hughmmmm, Very well, six, what are you doing here?"

"I have come to read and learn about my people."

The gnome, if that is what he was, walked a few steps closer, almost as if sniffing the changeling and growled "Hummm, don't remember seeing you before."

"I am just come from Dale."

His questioner did not seem concerned. Nag Kath supposed that since he looked an Elf and had gotten here, he must be entitled to visit. The gnome ventured something along those lines, "I thought Thranduil's people already gone, not that they spent much time here. Straight for the coast, they went. Took their books with them."

"Ah, good sir. I was not of their company, though I knew some of them. If it would not be impolite, may I ask who you are?"

"Hummmm, you are a strange one, Orc Six. I cannot place your accent."

"Stranger than you know, good sir. I confess; I am not familiar with your kind. But then, I am not well-traveled. Please excuse my ignorance. May I ask your name?"

Courtesy dawned on the creature and he said, "I thought everyone knew. I am Logass, chief Elf-keeper. We protect the sacred places. There are seven of us here, though I am the one mostly in the library."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Logass. Only just arrived, I have not considered where to stay or what to eat. I do not want to impose."

"If you are here, it is our duty to feed and house you. Did you arrive on horse?"

Nag Kath said, "Yes, he is tied below."

"Well, let us get him settled and then deal with you. You have some explaining to do, young Orc Six."

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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_

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Regaldin was placed in a very large stable with only three other horses that did not look like they had been ridden in a while. They had been fed recently so that was comforting. Nag Kath stayed along side Logass who walked on his tiptoes with a great deal of bend at the knees. He also crouched forward slightly giving him a hunched appearance. It did not seem painful.

He led Nag Kath back up a side entrance to the main hall passing by a variety of gardens and nooks that were looking the worse for neglect. There were flowers and bushes but they were volunteers and not trimmed. Whatever else the keepers kept, they were not handymen. Logass looked over his shoulder and said, "You have your choice of accommodations; either you can stay in the old Elvish quarters or you can stay with us."

Nag Kath answered, "I supposed it depends on food. What is most convenient for you?"

Elf-keepers are not often asked about their convenience. What could this number six possibly be? He looked of the Teleri Elves but had such a difficult accent. And he was dressed as a man. After so long away from the looms of Elfkind, he supposed one made due. "Well, we stay in the back rooms close to the kitchen and there is plenty of room."

"Then I would be honored to stay with your folk."

"Very good." Logass knew the other three Elves here now were riders from Lorien staying in the highest of Elf apartments and leaving for the Grey Havens in the morning to sail on one of the Phaeroe ships now that the swan vessels were gone. Should he introduce this one? No, they had kept their own counsel so it was none of his business. Few Elves could even see the keepers. This one spotted him right away. "Follow me, Orc Six."

Nag Kath was shown to a small room that had a long bed, dresser, wash basin and a small desk with a real glass window overlooking one of a dozen waterfalls. He would worry about organizing his studies tomorrow. For today, he took his sketch book out to a bench and started drawing pictures worthy of a gallery.

Rivendell had a variety of bells but they were rung for reasons, not times. Folk were supposed to know the time. Not wanting to risk being late, he went to the mess hall. It was pandemonium! Logass said there were seven of them but that did not count their women who were carrying steaming vittles of all sorts around a long table. The same food had been served to the Lorien Elves in their own dining room. Nag Kath took a chair against the wall and marveled at how none of these remarkable creatures ran into each other busting to and fro.

As if on cue, they all stopped dead in their tracks and looked at him for several moments before resuming frenzied preparations. When the table was laid, Logass returned and sat at the head. "Friends, joining us tonight is Nag Kath; who is Orc Six. He is come to study in the library and other things. We are the first Elf-keepers he has met so please explain what we do, should he ask."

With that, food started flying around the table. He was served all manner of viands he had never seen before. And like with Radagast, there was no meat. There were eggs and cheeses of different colors. And ale, but only one mug each. Nag Kath took the largest chair among many sizes. A fellow three closer to the head said, "Hughmmm, I am Norgarn. Welcome to our table, Mr. Six. Are you traveling to the west?"

"Thank you for your hospitality, Norgarn. No, I plan to be here for a little while and then make my way south, perhaps to Ithilien and thence Belfalas."

They had to consider that a moment. That was the wrong direction for the flow of the Firstborn who generally moved north and then west to Linden. The last of the Lorien Elves were still active but they were not expected to be here much longer and would cross the Misty Mountains much further south. Some of the northern Sylvans were staying but this curious fellow was not either of them. Orc Six said as much since he had just stayed there.

In his favor, he seemed to like ale, rather then the wine of the Eldar, and had chosen to dine with the keepers so he must be a fine fellow indeed! Nag Kath leaned forward to see around two women who were much stouter than the males and asked, "Forgive my provincial upbringing, Norgarn, but what manner of beings are you keepers?"

"We are simply the keepers. We have always been such. Our business is keeping the spirit of the Elves alive in their high places if they cannot do it themselves."

"That is a noble goal."

The woman next to Norgarn offered, "It is what we have always done, Mr. Six."

"Thank you, ma'am. I look forward to hearing your tales."

A keeper across the table from him regaled, "Then you will get your chance in just a moment. The telling of tales is our entertainment after the evening meal!"

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And so it was. Fencïl, a mere sprig at barely five thousand years old, sat in an Elf-sized chair near the fireplace and opened a book in his lap. Nag Kath did not know but it had been chosen for being in Sindarin, the only language they knew him to understand.

It was a tale like the ones Gandalf read to the guardian children in Orthanc with shining knights in battles against the worst sorts of foes. It was not a fairy tale. There were casualties on both sides and sorrow for their losses. Nag Kath did not recognize any of the names. Elf names and titles were fairly long and they did not use nicknames. Often they had several names and one should know that. No matter, he enjoyed the story. Then it was time for bed. It seems Elf-keepers actually slept so after making sure it was permitted, he walked out to a balcony and listened to the water falling everywhere around him.

In the morning he made his way to the library. The valley did not get full sun even now in high summer. Men would have a hard time reading in winter without lamps. The remaining books were arranged by subject rather than language so he had to thumb through several in the first shelf he reached to find one in Sindarin. He did not find any in the common-tongue. In the courtyard he heard horses so he rose from the couch and watched the three Elves preparing to leave. Lorien Elves didn't speak much with the Silvans so they waved but were soon on their way.

Returning to his book, it was a history of Elf migrations in the Second Age. The language was very courtly which made it repetitive. His halting understanding of Sindarin was unusual because he did not say it to himself in his head as he read. These old books were meant to be read aloud. Many of them were written after the stories had been handed down orally for thousands of years. Mannish troubadours of today repeated their verses to establish a rhythm and remind listeners of aspects they should not forget. Men did not do that when conversing. No matter how long someone's name was, there was something shorter. If a man was the King of four realms, people accepted he still was a chapter later. Nag Kath imagined he might return here many times over how long his life might be so for this trip he wanted to concentrate on healing and origins. A quick conference with Librarian Logass explained these books were in the order they were left but he did not care if Nag Kath rearranged them. He could not take them though. Copying was fine.

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Several days into his studies, Nag Kath saw one of the keepers hauling a bag towards the kitchen. The poor creature seemed bent double under the load. The Elf ran to him and took the sack off his shoulders and asked where he might take it. That got him a look he would never forget. The gnome, and he would think of them as that even if they would not say, told him, "It is just a bit further this way, Mr. Six."

That evening before dinner, Logass came to him in the dining hall and said, "Teurvan explained what you did for him today. He said he forgot to thank you."

"It is of no matter. I am strong and can serve. That reminds me, should I be paying you for your care and cooking? I am used to earning my keep."

Now it was Logass turn to look stunned. "We are Elf-keepers, Orc Six. You are no trouble at all."

Three nights later, it was Nag Kath's turn to tell a story. He had never written them down. He had pictures to remember some. Tonight's tale was of the Wild Huntsman. He added some drama against the obvious fact that he lived. Many of the keepers had known the Elves or known of them during their lives but this was the first yarn in an age where the teller was a participant.

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Nag Kath made spotty progress in healing. Counter positions between different writers on the same malady were common, sometimes inferring those opposed to their treatments were respectfully ill-informed. There were themes though, like which plants seemed to help in most cases. By a stroke of luck, one book in Quenya had a list of those plants and pictures of them. Nag Kath copied those as precisely as he could and asked the keepers for the names, then and now.

Two weeks in, he thumbed through a very thick tome on northern migrations and was on the verge of putting it back on the shelf when he saw the name Morgoth. That was the first dark lord. He brought the book back to the table and pored over references to his early malcontent among his fellow Ainur. Quite a bastard; old Morgoth. One might have expected the book to be in Quenya but this was Sindarin; even if the oldest and most formal writing style of the age, which made it almost impenetrable for our modern Nag Kath.

There he found the making of the orcs.

It was only a paragraph but the contention was that the foul one captured an unknown number of Elves of northern clans and subjected them to horrible sorceries and surgeries to make the first orcs. Most died but a few survived. Their offspring had no memory of better lives and the parents were murdered. Without dark lords of any kind to rain malice down on Middle Earth, Nag Kath wondered if he had changed back to the ancient form like folk said.

A week later he found the tale of Sauron being defeated and forced to change to Elvish appearance. Even then he brought ruin to many lands. That must form the Lady Arwen's assertion that he might have done it again. Nag Kath never felt like a dark lord, though he did ask himself long and hard after cruel killings in Eregion and on the Dwarf Road if he could do that for his own purposes? He decided he could but would not. That was the best anyone could hope for. When no one was looking, he did roll escaping pencils back to his hand.

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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_

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Nag Kath decided to stay in Rivendell for the winter. It was quiet, beautiful and in some ways its grace reminded him of Eniece. He wished she was here.

Two Elves came to visit during the autumn. The changeling introduced himself but they spoke little and seemed busy doing something they saw no need to explain. They knew the keepers were there but could not see them and made their own food. No new Elves came to visit after the first snow. Nag Kath learned a great deal more from the keepers than the books.

He asked Naurice, wife of Bondo, about physical maintenance. Nag Kath understood a bit about wood. It dies slowly. Wood needs painting or sealing or waxing every so often or it breaks down to mulch for new trees. Naurice explained the keepers were primarily custodians of the spirit of place. Rivendell and Lorien were repositories of memories and cares and parts of us that never leave. As long as there were Elves in Middle-Earth, they would watch those things and keep them safe for future need. Another time, Nag Kath asked Yevijj about the northern kingdom. He agreed it was quite Elvish but had not been a place of thought. Their mighty King was more in the mannish style so the more southerly Elvish settlements kept their own records and memories. And the Silvans? They were Elves as much as anyone. As long as they lived, this place would be here for them to renew and refresh.

That rest was less than perfect. The call from Valinor was strong. To resist was to be diminished. Unless the power pulling them west dissipated, they would eventually succumb to all of the ailments and aging of men. It might take centuries but it would find them. Yevijj was curious about Nag Kath. This Elf was no Silvan, nor, seemingly, any other kind. Nag Kath said he had never felt the call of The Undying Lands in his blood. He didn't mention he might be part wizard.

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Nag Kath loved story-telling. Sometimes both men and women would gather afterwards and discuss it like scholars. If Keepers were truly six or seven thousand years old, they would have heard them all enough to have an opinion.

It was his turn again in mid-November. He would test his path.

In the fashion of a troubadour he began dramatically, "Here now is a tale of great powers fighting to their doom. A dark and terrible wizard created an army of cruel slaves whose only purpose was to destroy the world of men. They numbered in their thousands. The fastest and fiercest of them were sent forth to capture four Halflings who carried a fell tool lost to the darkest of Lords.

"The foul servants went to a river hoping their quarry would stumble that way. Instead, they were all slain but one by soldiers of light who imprisoned the warrior in the deepest and foulest dungeon. There he was forgotten for a long while.

"While he was there, the dark Lord and the wizard were destroyed utterly. When that happened, the servant was bathed in the light of their demise and painfully became a soldier of light. But he did not know how. He had only known hate and death.

"He found that in this new land, there was love if you looked. There was beauty if you embraced it. And there was forgiveness if deserved. He strove to do all those things. He continues in his search. And every day he finds more proof that the dark Lord has lost sway over the land, and that free people of every kind have a place at fair tables."

The keepers looked at him and looked at each other. At least it explained the accent. Fencïl, who knew as much lore as anyone said, "That is a very new story, is it not, Mr. Six?"

"It goes on as we speak, Honored Fencïl."

Yevijj commented, "Then the memories we preserve have grown. That could not have been easy, Mr. Six."

"It gets easier every day."

.

It snowed often but never very deep. Nag Kath often strolled the grounds looking at the astonishing architecture. Did it make Elrond sad to leave? Would he find someplace as nice where he went? Over time, he asked the keepers almost to the point of annoyance about Quenya. It mostly eluded him but even a little helped him understand a section of books on building. Some had pictures. He copied one collection of drawings showing the little waterways cascading down the homely house to the Eiaontal Garden. He hiked every inch of the grounds. It seemed water was everywhere, but gates above the property diverted the larger flows into gated catch-pools to keep constant flow in rivulets through the buildings. Some places in Rivendell were very loud.

By April Nag Kath had looked at every scrap of paper he could find. Healing and sorcery texts were limited but there were bits and pieces. Most books were military histories which he skimmed and placed back on the shelf. One of the most important things he learned was ingredients for Elven waybread. Mrs. Yevijj showed him. Laying hands on the ingredients in the wild would be hard since some only grew in a few places. That was rendered a problem for the future since the lady keepers gave him pounds of it when it was time to say goodbye.

Saddling Regaldin to leave, Nag Kath realized he had new friends. He would see them again and share stories yet to be lived. They would wait, patiently, as they always had.