Chapter 21
An Invitation
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The next section relies largely on the map called; Khand Topo. /gallery/jHPlDU8
This belonged to him. For his first life of men, Nag Kath either followed paths laid before him or reacted to what he found. His goals were created by others wishing him to use his powers for their ends. They were good ends, lately. He considered his own deep goals and decided he really didn't have them. Righting wrongs and great deeds seemed worthy employment and it helped his insatiable curiosity. Curiosity was, perhaps, his greatest gift from the transformation - the hardest trait for a former Uruk. If his life was as long as everyone else thought, he needed to stay engaged, lest he drift into boredom and regret for not having done much. Others considered him quite productive. He just thought of it as staying busy.
As for quests; there were sorceries in the east. There might be answers there too. The stone of the Easterlings had fewer than he originally thought. It might be a talisman of an ancient. It could have been carved last year. It might mean absolutely nothing. But there was that feeling. Then there was the old man in Kugavod. He was of those lands, closer even than the current Bror, and yet had a much different view of life. Orlo sought the light. And his dead brother-in-law didn't owe money. The miserly Bror saw the chance to fleece the blonde greenbottom and took it.
Evidence failed him. Why had an area under relentless pressure from Sauron for millennia been so hapless in the last war? The closer allies were to Mordor, the better their soldiery – except northeastern Khand and the former Balchoth Khanates which were thinly represented on the Pelennor. That did not apply to northern Easterlings who are near cousins to Northmen and fight because they always fight. Few men of the west took the time to sort through the different races bleeding their last before the Rammas Wall. Having been there, Nag Kath knew they were not all the same.
Nag Kath put the rest of the winter to use. He had Charlo's saddle and tack fitted to hide an assortment of Florins and nippers. He would keep money in his clothes too so horse or apparel could be lost. In late March he hiked to the seventh to tell King Aragorn his intentions. If the King wondered at his purpose, he kept it to himself. Aragorn had been to the deep-south as a ranger but not far east. When the changeling bowed and left, his Liege wondered if he had done enough for his servant, given all the Elf had done for free peoples. Nag Kath felt the other way; that the King had given him his freedom, something that could never be repaid.
Mr. Tallazh consulted on more practical matters. He among everyone Nag Kath knew understood the language. For many hours they drank tea of that land and discussed what people did and wore and thought and feared. Tallazh taught him a few words and phrases along with explaining many different ways not to offend them. One never really said what they meant. You asked questions they could avoid. Direct praise should be deflected with self-deprecation. They had a tearful goodbye two years ago so that had all been said.
Goodbyes were said to everyone else in good time. The day before he left in early April he had lunch at a restaurant on the fifth with Tal and Ardatha. They had become great friends with similar outlooks. Neither woman questioned his need to go. They dearly wished he wouldn't.
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Nag Kath made for the Brown Lands, following his own waterway to the original crossroads where he met the Prince and King a decade before. From there he turned due north along the upper Ephel Düath towards Morannon.
Other than scouting water sources along the range, he had not traveled further north than crossing the Entwash on his first trip years ago. The forest was rich and healthy but showed pockets where it still struggled. Trees were yellow or stunted. Nag Kath climbed off Charlo several times to test the water. Most streams ran clean but one gave him the slightest sense of taint. He wrote a note in Sindarin to the aqueduct office and asked the next trader he saw to deliver it.
He would see the Dead Marshes. No man would willingly walk into this swamp even if it wasn't filled with corpses. This was sorcery too, sorcery that had not relented even with the destruction of Sauron and the exodus of wizards and Elves. Thousands of orcs and men and Elves were killed or driven here to die early in the Third Age.
The first casualty he found seemed a Hillman or orc. The next was an Elf lying face up. Nag Kath was not sure how long he stood looking into the blank expression that still conveyed anger and loss. Before he left he sampled the water. His talent was measuring living forces. This was a gray cloud of living death, unable to dissolve and feed more wholesome plants than the rank water weeds choking the banks. He hoped the Elf had found his way to the Halls of Mandos even if the corpse might never decay.
The huge Black Gate loomed to his right but he pressed into Dagorlad. If the marshes were dead water, this was dead land. There were even more bones barely under the surface. Charlo had matured over the time they had been together but he showed some of his old anxiety tramping over this terrible place. Running usually calmed the horse and leaving fast was fine with his master.
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Dagorlad gave way to the Brown Lands which seemed lush in comparison. Traveling in a straight line, Nag Kath saw why it was so hard for Gondor to stay in touch with Dorwinion. Trade had to take the long way around this miserable patch. The water was drinkable. Nag Kath let Charlo graze a long time for enough greens to go with his oats.
It seemed to take forever but the Wilderland eventually gave way to a small mountain range to the east coast of the Sea of Rhûn. The peaks were high enough that rain on this side of them drained west and turned north to the Celduin. Streams were clean and broad enough for edible fish. After Lembas and grit in his teeth for two weeks, they tasted sublime. Mountains became hills and within another day he was in the wine country.
Nag Kath drew a few pictures after breakfast. Dorwinion grew many crops so vineyards were interspersed with wheat, barley, vegetables and the gureeq grain that needed less water. They took a leisurely pace due east along the Brilthen creek to the town of Minas Falath. This was the main Gondoran outpost until last year when people realized they were more likely to be invaded by Easterlings than grapes. Even with the command moved to Riavod, Nag Kath was instantly recognized by soldiers who arrived just in time to back the line at the ford. They insisted on toasting their victory!
Who could refuse? Nag Kath stayed a week enjoying the hospitality and swimming further than anyone on shore was comfortable watching. He was here for information and this was the last stretch of the trip where people had been on his side. The next thirty miles north sported coastal homes for successful farmers and merchants. Their holdings were beautiful too, but isolated, so they gathered here between harvest and planting to rub elbows with their own kind.
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After the long rest, Elf and horse made their way up the coast on a good road and reached Riavod three days later. This town had not fared as well. Bodies in the Celduin had fouled the river-mouth and sickened many townsmen. The large sturn-fish eventually cleaned the bones. Sturn were normally prized delicacies but no one who could afford different would eat them until this spring. Whisker-fish ate whatever was on the bottom of the lake too.
Nag Kath found the Marshal's office and tied Charlo outside. Lieutenant Fendülas was now a full Captain and just returning from lunch with the mayor when the Elf arrived. The three shook hands as brothers-in-war. New toasts were arranged. He would rather have kept riding but these people risked and saved their lives with their courage. They deserved to remember and be remembered.
Nag Kath's main reason for coming was to talk with Vegad Druhamel. It stood to reason that the young man would reap the benefits of choosing the right side, plus his nipper's worth of capital. Vegad was much up in the world and it took the Elf most of the day to find his new home. A girl of about thirteen opened the door when he knocked. Hillilea was the official greeter since their home was also where Vegad assisted traders on the blossoming route to the Kingdom of Rhûn. The changeling had not met her before and leaned down to say, "I am Nag Kath and I would like a word with your esteemed brother."
In a pleasing east/west accent she told him, "Please come in, best sir. I will inquire if he is available." She did not recognize his name and forgot it when she told her brother a guest had arrived. Vegad told her he was busy and she asked if the sir could come back tomorrow. Nag Kath leaned over again and asked her to remind the businessman of burning sand. She had been back in the office only a moment when he heard the 'screeep' of chair legs across the wooden floor followed by hurrying feet. Vegad rounded the hall and bowed. The Elf returned the bow and the two men shook hands in the western style.
"You have returned to your glory, Kath of the Kelduash!"
How long would that linger? "Thank you Vegad. It seems you are doing well."
"Yes, thank you. Dorwinens trust me to represent their cases fairly to those bringing or buying goods from the east. Other agents do not enjoy the same references. Please, come, sit. A one-eyed woman brought a tray of tea that also seemed a blend of near and far. Vegad thanked her so either he was becoming more western or the woman was more than a servant.
Vegad leaned back in his chair and asked, "Are you visiting your family in the Buhrs?"
"No, they moved to Minas Tirith." Less conversationally, "I purpose to revisit his Excellency."
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That was not the horror it was the first time but it was still curious since Nag Kath was not trading grain or sheep. Vegad was a sharp young man and should suspect that this was diplomatic, or something deeper. "The road is improved. Returning soldiers of the Usurper volunteered to help smooth it for travelers."
"Is the ford easier?"
"There is no need. Take the ferry. Is his Excellency expecting you?"
Vegad had no position with the government of the Easterlings. They had their own people, none of whom were dock-rats from Riavod. His bread was buttered by Dorwinen and Dalish traders. Nag Kath chuckled, "It will be a surprise. I usually am."
Vegad agreed. The sorcerer was full of surprises. Nag Kath continued, "After paying my respects, I plan to visit Kelepar and then Mistrand before turning east."
That was a surprise. "You will need to ask your host for leave. Between Kugavod and Kelepar lies the best land in Rhûn. The horses you shared with your peoples were raised there. Unless sanctioned, and probably escorted, you will not be allowed. Forgive me my friend, why Mistrand? It is a sizeable town as they go in the Bror's lands but no great place. Kelepar is at the south end of desirable."
The Elf said in his long-story voice, "You told me that your family had no love of the Visitors. Others feel the same. I would like to find if they are in league with those who once made them supreme or simply clinging to memories. Mistrand may inform."
Vegad grinned an eastern grin and said, "You are strange, but you are strong, so I will tell you. My father owned a vegetable stall in Rhûbar, just this side of the capital. Visitors threatened merchants and farmers with violence if they did not acknowledge their primacy. Father paid the squeeze but a neighbor reported my family for burning candles on Gelansor. Two days later, Visitors caned him. For years after, his back would crack and bleed from the scars. The Visitors were scourged by the old Bror for worse than that, but then there was drought so we moved here to sell vegetables until father died."
Nag Kath knew he was right to come here. "Tell me of the Visitors."
Vegad held his chin, the mark of a wise man, before saying, "The ones in the streets are rogue militias, coarse and unlettered. Some believe in coming darkness. Some do it for the food. They are humorless men in either event.
"Since those are the only ones I know, I must tell you what I have been told. Visitors believe that their suffering in the wastes gives them the purity to demand service from those of us who work for our supper. Against their lofty claims, at no time have the sands of east Mordor truly mattered. Visitors yearn for the best of those days, such as they were. Elsewhere, folk who have gotten used to eating every day quickly forget the dignity of hardship."
The Elf got to the heart, "Who are their leaders?"
"I cannot say. They do not show themselves. Bror's and wars come and go but they survive."
It was time for a question he thought he knew but needed scope, "Vegad, do you know if there are those organized against the Visitors?"
"Calling them organized would be charitable, but those who follow the ways of Gelansor, like my parents did, do not support the Visitors' views. That comes in summer. Watch for lights at night."
The young girl politely interrupted. She did not know that the tall white man was the father of their bounty and her job was to make guests welcome. Another had just arrived. Nag Kath had just one last question, "How might I recognize one, either to be safe or for more information?"
I am not sure, but it is said they disdain the flesh of fish that swim on the sea bottom, the ones with faces like cats. Visitors claim those creatures eat foul things and so, are themselves, foul. I do not care for them either."
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After three days as the toast of Riavod, Nag Kath booked passage across the harbor on a flat-bottomed sail galley that could travel both directions. Now that there was some trade between the empires, Nag Kath did not get the astonished stares he did before the battle. People still gawked but with his hair covering his ears, folk had finally stopped wondering if he was an Elf because everyone knew the Elves had left.
Traveling further south than his bee-line above the ford there was only one road and the returning prisoners had not repaired it. It was safer to run Charlo alongside rather than in the dried wagon ruts. They still made good time riding southeast along the coast to skirt a range of steep hills almost reaching the sea. They got as far as the tip jutting into the water when night closed-in. More of the same got them to Kugavod four days later.
Along the way, local militias stared but largely kept to themselves. Within a day of the capital, the mounted troops were the Bror's best. Easterling soldiers wore much the same clothing as the rest of the people. Very few soldiers, even in Gondor, had uniforms like palace guards. Garments were often newer, but only the badges or armor gave them away.
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Three hours from Kugavod, he was stopped and questioned by twelve riders who looked a bit bored. And like bored, ill-tempered soldiers everywhere, they pretended not to understand his common-speech. Nag Kath had none of their language but was tolerant letting the sergeant try to be intimidating. Questions from these men would have scared locals witless. When he had had enough, Nag Kath quipped, "I am riding to speak with my friend Bror Dulgov. Perhaps you can give me your name, esteemed sergeant, so I can tell him why he had to wait."
That squeezed the Sarge's tenders. If the blonde pretty-boy was bluffing, the soldier could be ridiculed high and low for his deference. If he wasn't, the Bror was not known for forgiveness. The sergeant was collecting taxes in the other direction so he detached two troopers to escort the pale one back to the palace with orders to report what happened.
The two men spoke no Westron at all so they all galloped wordlessly to the closed city gates after fording a fair river. The corporal on the wall was in a bad mood too and he questioned the soldiers about returning alone. It took another five minutes until they convinced the gate guards they had been ordered to deliver the strange one and to open the dougsh door. Once in, they rode to the smaller gate of the royal compound.
It seemed to Nag Kath that citizens of Rhûn did not assume responsibility. You knew your place, commanding those beneath you with impunity and toadying to those above. At the smaller gate, a functionary in robes was finally found and brought to assess the uninvited petitioner for his Excellency. This one did speak tolerable Westron and said he would inform the chamberlain shortly.
Duty done, the two troopers reported to their barracks since the company they left would be a day's ride away. No one was responsible for the Elf so when the functionary did not return in two hours, he led Charlo towards what looked like the market area of town hoping to find an inn.
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His luck was in. Civilians spoke more of the common-tongue than soldiers who were largely from the hill-country behind the capital. There was an inn that catered to merchants. It was not clean but not infested either and was probably as nice a place as he would find. After paying for his room and hay for Charlo, he had the innkeeper send a runner to the palace door notifying the chamberlain where he was. It was past dinner time but market stalls sold spiced lentils wrapped in cholla flatbread that weren't half bad.
Nag Kath nibbled Lembas for breakfast and waited for his summons. By eleven, he guessed because there were no bells, he wandered up to the roof of the two-story building and surveyed the city. Gazing east along the river, plains and forests looked quite fertile. Vegad said this was the best land in the area. Hills climbed gradually producing enough drainage to feed crops. In a land of brown, the Agasha Dag fed the nation and produced its gentry. By noon he decided to take a stroll through the business district of the capital. His innkeeper assigned the youngest of several sons to stay with him. The lad looked no more than ten but in this place, youth was not wasted on children.
The Elf figured the city might hold five thousand souls, perhaps eight hundred of those were soldiers. What had happened to the population of Middle-earth? Lore spoke of great hosts in battles from here to Linden. What did they eat? There might be more warriors staring up in the Dead Marshes than living between here and there.
The capital was a mix of people but on balance, they looked more southern than Northman. Most men did not have the bushy beards of colder climes. Their skin was tan, perhaps with a hint of olive. That certainly favored the women here with the added appeal of not being wrapped from head-to-toe in coarse woolens like simple folk of the west. They stared. He smiled.
The high-street ran from west to east and was intersected with lanes wide enough to run a cart through comfortably. There were balconies on the second-stories with lines to dry clothes. Most residential doors were open trying to circulate air. It was not hot yet but it would be in a month.
The lad was not there as a guide. Nag Kath wasn't sure what he was doing since if the palace called, they would both be out and about. Maybe if he turned down the wrong street the boy would tell him. There was also the issue of the Bror. He might not even be in the city. Everyone involved in getting the changeling here and announcing him had done their job but it wouldn't be anyone's responsibility to tell him if His Excellency was a hundred leagues away. No matter. He would loiter around the place for a few days and then slip south.
When in doubt; bribe. The Elf was not hungry but when he saw a stall selling treats made from sweet beets, he walked over and bought a small sack. A bench near a fountain was the perfect place to sit. Nag Kath slowly unwrapped one of the morsels and tantalizingly put the snack on his tongue, savoring it in ecstasy. The second took even longer. His little shadow was nearly drooling when Nag Kath gestured for him to sit on the bench and gave him one of the pink-colored sweets.
"Do you speak the common-tongue?"
"Small amount, yes, best of possible sirs."
"Good lad. Which do you like, the pink or the tan ones?" The little boy shrugged with a smile. These were decisions he had never made. Nag Kath gave him a tan treat. "Now, I like fish. Do you know what fish are?"
"Yes. They swim and are eat."
The Elf nodded in approval, "Very good. I like the big red fish. Do you know which ones those are?" The boy shook his head. Nat Kath started to unwrap another of the sweets and made a fuss of not being able to extract it from the fali leaf. That took nearly a minute. He dropped it in his mouth and gave the boy a pink treat. Pulling his pad from the satchel he drew one of the red fish that swam together near the surface. Then he drew a whisker-fish. He showed the two pictures to the boy and said he like the first one but not the second. Did the young man know places where the cat-faced fish were not served?
He would get nothing from the youngster, who had probably never eaten a meal not made in his mother's kitchen. It was worth a try. He gave the kid another treat and made his way further east. There was a small, ruin much the same shape as where he had been kept waiting for the Bror on his first trip. Just for something to do, they made their way there and began walking around it. One end had collapsed many years before. Stepping over the rocks they entered the very courtyard he had been detained. There were four sheds equally spaced around the oval perimeter, long disused with no doors. Wild cucumbers and squash crept along the ground near the drainage ditch. There were no flowers. There had never been flowers.
He had been played like a greenbottom! By someone on his side! Humility came easily to the fledling sorcerer but, without false modesty, he was the most powerful creature of his kind still abroad in the wider world. He had imagined encircling walls and plants and the sounds of guards just outside. No wonder his flower pictures were dougsh! And there was no telling what was in that tea.
Why him? Why here? Nag Kath had used his power confusing the two soldiers in Riavod. Perhaps enough residual was left to mark him for someone who could tell. The serious question was really; who, or what, was Orlo? The Elf already intended to follow clues deep into Sauron's old stomping-grounds. This was just one more.
None of this was apparent to the little boy fixed on the shrinking sack of sweets. Nag Kath tossed him another as he gazed in wonder at what was probably a horse-training paddock for long dead Brors. The remains of the wall above the break was almost like a flight of stairs. The Elf carefully climbed to the top of the wall and looked around. This was the only structure of its type. A year ago this seemed to be much closer to the palace walls. It obviously wasn't. Anyone from town could walk in here either through the door-less gate or the collapsed east side. In one last confirmation of being fooled, Nag Kath went to Orlo's hut. It was empty but for large, hungry spiders.
Nag Kath started through a hole in the wall at a meandering path towards the city when the boy said, "No, best sir. We go to there." He pointed the way they had come. It earned him the last treat.
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There was still no word from the palace. It could wait. The Elf thought he might slip out in the night after decent folk were tucked away. Approaching the dinner hour, two soldiers in livery came to the inn and asked for him. Nag Kath left everything where it was under a heavy confusion spell and bowed to the palace men. One said in tolerable Westron, "His Excellency to see you now."
He was led down the same series of corridors except at the end when the guards brought him to a large room adjacent to a smaller room divided by iron bars. Bror Dulgov stood ten feet to his side of the bars in the other room and accepted a deep bow from the Elf.
The rightful ruler of the land would not be within striking distance of this creature. Men of the west knew that Nag Kath had slain Easterling mercenaries trespassing in the Buhrs. The Easterlings themselves knew how he did it. In their absolute and remorseless world, Khalki, Lord who punishes the impure, was a savage wind who destroyed the unrighteous in fire and blood. One of the troopers from Dale told him what these men feared. And that's what they got.
The Dwarf-road slaughter would have reached the young Bror's ears. Dulgov was then and now the enemy of that rogue element. But that didn't mean the baby-faced boy behind the barrier would discriminate. The Rhûn said, "Welcome back, Nag Kath. Your coming was unannounced."
"Your pardon, Excellency. This is nothing so dire as my last visit. I hope I have not inconvenienced you."
"Thank you for you kindness to my son. He could have left Dale with seven wives."
Nag Kath was gracious, "You are welcome. He is a fine young man and represented your Excellency with distinction."
"I am glad to hear your visit is not perilous. What can I do for you?"
The Elf thought the Bror might be willing to dispense with the usual flowery preambles. "It pertains to the conversation I had with Prince Voranush. With your permission, I was hoping to turn south and thence towards Khand in search of our common enemies, Lord Bror."
That was a cleft stick for the man and both knew it. It would mean giving the creature a look at the breadbasket of the empire. But this one had talents that might root-out the Visitors, Visitors who for countless generations had made life miserable for the rightful rulers of Rhûn! His grandfather, Tespish, continued the alliance with Sauron and accepted orcs and spies in the bargain. Even then, the Visitors had schemed for the dark lord and their own purposes. His father Telantish had enjoyed personally flaying Visitors in salt when the survivors straggled back from Erebor, leaving Tespish's and his brother Boramn's heads moldering on pikes outside the gates.
He would allow the quest, but he had conditions, "I will arrange an escort of honor to accompany you as far as Kelepar. Is tomorrow convenient?"
"I am grateful, Your Excellency. I may be some time, but I will either return to tell you of my inquiries or send a letter. May I ask if there is a symbol or token of your exalted position that I may use so that the message will reach you?"
The Bror commanded, "Approach."
As Nag Kath was walking to the grate, a robed man nodded twice and scurried off towards a large table in front of the only window in the room. Returning, he placed something small in the Bror's large hand.
The man considered it and said gravely, "This is a signet of my emissary. A letter sealed in wax and delivered to any soldier in my realm will find its way to me. I warn you though; you use this at my sufferance. Misuse has consequences." The Bror handed the ring back to the robed man who reached between the bars to give it to Nag Kath.
The Elf said, "Thank you, Excellency. It will only be used at the end of need."
Dulgov considered that, "A small thing. You helped me remove a thorn in my toe." The Lord of Rhûn turned and walked into shadow.