The wizard made his way down the stairs. He felt numb. To say his head was swimming would be understating. His brain had become such a cacophony of different questions and answers and memories and statements he may as well have been on the moon. He stared ahead beyond the horizon.
Despite that no sound or sight or feeling of reality could reach his senses it seemed his feet knew the way to the door he'd just been kicked to. Slowly the ringing in his ears died down as he perceived another soul vying for his attention on the steps above. "Ossë!" Called a voice. "Wait!"
It was Gandalf. Catnap had respected him in days past, because he always seemed to understand his purpose a little better than the others. But today he'd just as well lost that respect. "What do you want, Olórin?" Said the little exile. "Now I recognize that you have some… Strong feelings about this." Gandalf replied. "But you must go back and apologize!"
Catnap felt a rage wash over him. He tried desperately to quell the turbulence in his mind as he began to speak. "Apologize?" He was shaking. "The only way you'll ever be allowed into these halls again is if you attempt to make peace with Sarumon." Said the grey. "I know he can be difficult-" "Difficult!?" His voice started to echo about the great cavernous staircase.
Catnap simply couldn't help himself. "Saruman is an agent of the enemy, Olórin. You know he turned. You know he worked for Morgoth!" "So did you, once." The misfit blushed. "That was different." Gandalf just looked at him. "I broke free! Does that count for nothing? Did my moment of weakness and vulnerability forever brand me as 'one of them'? Saruman is a black-hearted fiend who could never do what I did."
"I know you must feel betrayed." Said Gandalf. I admit the actions of our leader have been… Questionable. "But that's simply no excuse for you to speak the way you have. I warn you, if you do not apologize, no force me or anyone else could muster will see you back in here."
Catnap looked up the steps back towards the room he'd been cast out of. Gandalf looked upon the fellow hopefully. But then he shook his head and started back down the steps. "You're weak." He said. "But you know what?" He turned to reveal tears streaming down his face. "So am I." Soon he'd saddled up and rode past the gates. That was the last time he ever set foot in Isengard.
He just kept on riding. As long as the river was on his left, he knew he was going away from it all. His words sat heavy in his throat. He regretted many of them. "All this power," He thought. "And there's no way to turn back time." Something inside of him felt selfish.
Of course, now he had no direction. All he could do was make for the one place he felt at peace: the ocean. He produced a small tied sack. From it, he withdrew a couple bits of mushroom. A long journey laid before him.
The king paced back and forth in front of his grand fireplace. He knew 'Gilvard the Problem' would peak his foul head out again soon, he just didn't know how. Maybe he'd try to stir political unrest again. Maybe his army was just outside the castle preparing an assault for the dead of night. There'd been rumors that the ungrateful bastard was planning to start a civil war, after all. The quiet could mean anything. And the king knew that getting even a little comfortable would bring all the warlord's maniacal designs crashing down upon him.
He stepped out onto his balcony. The mighty castle Forochel stretched out beneath him. Beyond the walls of the castle, a steep glacial cliff gave way to the great shining sea of Belegaer. Today, a foul wind blew from the south. Normally, wind from the south would be warm and gloomy. But this wind was cold. It made the mighty Arvad shiver as it crossed his neck. He clutched at the goosebumps. Surely, this would be where they'd strike.
There was a knock at the door. "Away with ye, now!" He called. The door opened. Inglathor, lord of castle forochel, strolled in. "Ach, I've certainly got no time for the likes of you." He said. "Then make some." Replied the lord. "The people have not been taking some of these laws very well-" "The people don't know what's good for themselves!" Cried the king. "The people would be toiling in the snow, or begging men of the south for help if it weren't for my order."
"Sure." Said Inglathor. "It just seems cruel, taking the liquor out of their mouths after three years without music." "It's not for cruelty." The king said solemnly. "These pleasures make people like my son believe they can live without the light of Morgoth." The king moved to the large stained glass window lined up with the foot of his massive bed.
"Ever since my grandfather, Arvad I, ventured deep into the mountains and learned the truth," The king said. "Yes, yes and brought back the torch which never burns out. I heard the stories too, you know. Mostly in the form of song." The king seemed genuinely angry at his friend. "They do more harm than good." He snapped. Ignathor didn't know what to make of it. "Thy will be done, my liege." He said, before excusing himself to leave.
The king seethed. He took a drink before taking a seat before the fireplace. As he stared into the embers he imagined how it would look when the great fire he'd kept secret tore through Gilvard's siege engines and men. He smiled.
It was dark by the time the little wizard's horse trotted into the coastal town of Isla. He had some time ago dozed off and sat snoring atop the animal with his head bowed. The horse stopped as it reached the waves on the beach, prompting catnap to start tilting forward. At this, he jolted awake to catch himself, inadvertently falling off the side of the horse instead.
The sand was cold and moist. Realizing his surroundings, the exhausted wizard crawled his way through the muck and into the welcoming waters of his master's domain. Truth be told, he didn't know if this physical form could survive under the water like he could before. Truth be told he didn't care.
That night, as he dozed beneath the waves, he dreamt of singing along with the Valar in the timeless halls. He dreamt of Numenor. Soon he was bombarded by visions of love lost, of sword abandoned, and of evil dominating the land. He saw himself, with a festering wound in his arm that grew outward as the world around him tore asunder.
He awoke, thrashing. Around him, the water shone brilliant orange in the sunrise. Surfacing, the breeze proved refreshing as he started to breathe air for the first time in roughly six hours. He made his way back to shore where the horse had been sleeping and dried his clothes with a flourish from his staff and mighty FLOOF!
He thought about the dream he had. Probably best to put such things out of mind, he thought. But something unexplainable compelled him to have a look at his arm where that wound had been. Pulling back his sleeve, he was mortified to discover a spot. It was small and faint. Barely noticeable, but absolutely there. He quickly brought his other hand down onto it. It was, after all, entirely possible he'd just been seeing things. Checking again brought no relief. Obviously, the mushrooms hadn't quite worn off.
Fortunately enough, he was quickly able to distract himself when a great rumble came from his stomach. Looking down the beach he saw a sign in the shape of a flagon bearing a green fish. "Bingo."
Stepping inside, he was somewhat intimidated by the rough and tumble navy folk who populated the eatery. Every single one of them was taller than him. Many of them bore loud, ferocious scars. Even among the ones that didn't; there was scarcely an arm in the building that didn't rival his head in size.
He scurried over to a seat at the bar and sat down. In the seat next to him was the only man on the premises with comparable proportions to the green wizard. He was still taller (and wider), but catnap didn't seem so out of place next to him. Soon the bartender was upon them.
"What'll ye have?" He said, leaning onto the bar. Catnap placed a coin. "Tea, please." The bartender rolled his eyes. Obviously he couldn't just pour tea, and every time some knobhead came through asking for tea he'd have to go brew some. Catnap's neighbor was also quite aware of this, and so stopped the retreating bartender saying: "Fix me a flagon first." The bartender gladly obliged.
Catnap looked at the fellow. Something to note about the little wizard: He understood, or thought he understood emotions quite well. As a matter of fact, he was there when they were invented. Normally when he encountered a man or an elf he could confidently read their emotions, almost as the pages of a book.
But this man was altogether something else. He had a grin on his face, and he seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be enjoying a flagon and people-watching. But to catnap, he seemed grim. He also seemed to be somehow perceiving the wizard despite looking elsewhere. No doubt about it in catnap's mind. This man was clearly some kind of powerful sorcerer.
"Alright, ma- er… sir. Here's your tea." The bartender placed a steaming flagon in front of catnap. "Anything else?" He asked. "Bread?" The bartender nodded and stomped off to the pantry. "Bread!?" Said the man next to him. "Well no wonder you're so small, lad. Ye've hardly any meat on yer bones!"
Catnap looked up at his assailant. "What's wrong with bread?" He said quietly. "Nothin's the matter with bread lad, yer missin' th' point. Muscle is meat, see?" The northman flexed his arm, and from the skinny dowel rod emerged a massive bicep. "Eatin' man is the best thing for it, really. But that's unnatural. Makes ye an abomination, see?" The wizard was scared. The northman was staring with wide eyes, seemingly waiting for a response. Both of them realized that the bartender had arrived some time ago with the bread.
"Thank you," Said catnap as he took the small loaf. "Bring out a steak for the little one." Said the northman. "Ah! No thank y-" "Take no heed, bartender. We will make a warrior out of him, yet!" He blindly reached into his purse and put a handful of gold coins on the bar. He looked over at the wizard with a smirk, seeming to say watch this.
"And a round for the house!" He yelled, standing up. In an instant, the entire building was cheering and chanting. "My good friends," Said he, standing on the bar. "My men and I come united from the north." Some scattered 'Hear hear!' came from about the place. "United against King Arvad III of Forochel!" There was some gasping. A slight grumbling.
"We have already found some success in our little 'endeavor'." Said the man. At a gesture, two hulking northmen carried a massive chest large enough for probably four or five catnaps into the bar and brought it to the floor with a mighty THUMP! They opened the lid to reveal the entire thing was loaded with gold coins and precious gems.
A great commotion erupted at this revelation. The northmen stood round the chest as guards and actually had to fend a few people off. The leader waved his arm, hushing the crowd. "And I'm sure it will please many of ye t' know that should you join today, yer cut will be percentage-based." Percentage-based! None of the locals knew what those words meant but it sounded like a lot.
Everyone was cheering. Much to the confusion of the little traveller, his neighbor had seemingly made almost thirty men of Gondor agree to sail some 1300 miles to a land of which they knew nothing, to fight a war that wasn't theirs. What's more, he'd seemingly made them excited for it. Catnap beheld the man as though he was in the presence of some unfathomable behemoth.
The northman directed the crowd to his quartermaster, a man with enormous glasses and piles of papers, then got down off the bar and returned his gaze to the wizard. "Ye' aught ta eat that." He said. Catnap almost fell off his chair. "W-what?" He looked at the bar to see a steak on a plate in front of him. "Oh." He hesitantly took up his fork and poked at the slab. "How did you do that?" He asked the northman.
"I asked th' bartender ta bring ye' a stea-" "No, not-" The wizard sighed. "Who are you?" The northman laughed mightily. "Finally round ta business are we, lad?" He said. "They call me Gilvard the small." The small? Catnap thought. All the wizards he knew had colors, like Radagast the brown. "What kind of wizard does that make you?" He asked.
"Wizard? Oh no, lad. I despise wizards." Catnap clammed up. He slowly let his staff down and removed the gemstone. "Do you, now?" He said. "Why uh… Why would that be?" Gilvard seemed to become serious as his smile slipped away. "They're unnatural." Catnap nodded. "Of course, of course. I only thought you must be one, since you hypnotized all those people." The warlord's smile returned at once.
"Ha!" Said he. "Nothin' mystical about it. Merely th' power of suggestion, y'see." The wizard didn't see, but he nodded all the same. "These folk live for war. If war is denied them one way it'll find them another." It made enough sense to catnap.
The idea that such feats were achieved by nothing but a mortal man with his own means was sobering for the sorcerer. He was genuinely scared of the warlord before him. "Such brutality." He said. Gilvard thought that was just adorable. "What's your name, lad?" "I'm catnap, the green wi- er, wanderer." "Take no fear, little wanderer!" Cheered the warlord, sensing the wizard's anxiety. "I shall keep ye safe from th' fires of war!"
"Wait, wha-" The northman stood up on the bar yet again and declared: "Take heart, gentlemen! Soon, we take to th' seas aboard th' great galleon Crow!" He emptied his flagon, jumped down off the bar, then pulled catnap from his seat and out the door.
The sun was well up now. The sea shone beautifully in the high noon. Before them, and not far from where the wizard had been sleeping, was an utterly magnificent 24-sailed galleon warship. The entire ship was kept stunningly white and pale blue along every outer surface. The upper deck was a deeper blue. Atop the enormous mast flew a black flag with a clover in the center. To the bowsprit clung a vaguely masculine teal-blue figurehead with long flowing hair and covered in coral. It made catnap feel proud when he looked at it, but he couldn't quite tell why.
"What d'ya think?" Said Gilvard. The wizard had stars in his eyes. "She's beautiful!" The captain gave a hearty chuckle. "Aye, she is." He seemed to become more serious. "Listen, lad." He said. "I'm no kidnapper. I'll only see ye on that boat if ye SAY ye wanna go." "But," He continued. "I think ye belong on that boat." Catnap became flushed. "She calls to ye, lad. Listen!" The boat may have been calling to him. But catnap couldn't hear it. He'd never been further north than Lindon, and the man already proclaimed his unwitting hatred for him.
"I don't think so." He said, to the dismay of the northman. "I hope it all goes well for you, I just don't think a boat is the answer for me." Gilvard nodded respectfully, but there was a desperate regret clear about him. "The ship will set sail in an hour." He said. "By any power, be it natural or unnatural, I pray you're aboard when it does, lad." He started to the ship, which was already being boarded by elated countrymen. Catnap was flustered. "But… Why me?" He called. "I don't know." Said the northman, fighting a tear. "I don't know." And then for the first time, as he made his way into the captain's quarters, he lost a battle.
Catnap had seen it all. His arm hurt. Here was one man who, despite seemingly brandishing no magic at all, could gather a horde of gold and men on a whim. And yet this man was almost completely distraught to find he couldn't have catnap? His arm hurt. He made his way down the beach to his horse, who'd wandered over to a sand dune to chomp on the weeds. His arm hurt.
"Gah!" He yelled. He threw his cloak over his shoulder and pulled back his sleeve to reveal a circle of necrotic flesh on his arm. It burned in the daylight. He was horrified. Tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes. He turned around and looked towards the boat. For a brief moment, his distraught mind considered the charming warlord. In that moment, he felt something he wasn't expecting - comfort. He looked down to see some color returning to the wound on his arm. He studied it for a moment. "What?" He whispered.
Soon, the wizard had gathered his belongings and, much to the relief of the ship's captain, came bounding up the wooden ramp into the boat. As soon as the little wizard had crossed into the boat, captain Gilvard called out: "Set sail! Set sail!" And catnap watched as dozens of men who'd been idle jumped up and began handling ropes.
The sails were down and the anchor was up. A cacophony of men moving about and working and yelling and cursing, coupled with the groans and clunks and bangs and thumps of the old boat being forced into motion, surrounded catnap's senses as he made his way about. He almost fell over when the ship jolted forward from port. "Won't be long til I bump into someone at this rate…" He thought. Then he bumped into someone.
It was the ship's quartermaster. "'Ey watch it!" He yelled. His massive glasses fell off and threatened to shatter on the deck. Catnap, trying desperately to give the impression that he'd done so without magic, quickly put his hand out to catch them. There was a bit of commotion as the few people who could see the catch started to cheer. The wizard blushed as he returned the spectacles to their owner.
Blinking, the quartermaster's eyes looked several times larger with the glasses on. His massive pupils shifted to catnap, before his eyebrows furrowed menacingly. "You're not s'posed to be 'ere!" He said. "This is a warship bound for the northlands. You better hop off 'fore we get too far from land, little girl." Little girl! Even with his assistive lenses, the quartermaster still could not see very well. A few of the nearby seamen chuckled at poor catnap.
"He's with me." Said the unmistakable voice of the captain. The seamen hushed. "He?" Said the quartermaster, holding up his frames and squinting. "Bloody hell, what ar' yew finking bein' so small an' goin ta' war?" The seamen chuckled again. Gilvard too thought it was a little funny. "Anways, we've got ta take ye down in th' book. Small as y'ar, ye got a mouth an' ye eat, so ye've gotta go in the book."
He produced the same massive leather book he'd been taking names in down at the bar. He began to flip through, one page at a time. It wasn't long before the company began to grow impatient. Catnap looked at the captain, who at this point was tapping his foot with his arms crossed. He sighed and grabbed a clump of pages, flipping perfectly to the first blank space. "How'd yew do that?" Asked the quartermaster. The wizard shrugged. "Instinct."
Everyone looked at each other. Gilvard shrugged. "Hurry up, Cynac." The quartermaster nodded. "What's your name, master?" He asked. "My name is catnap, the- uh… catnap." Before long, the old scribe had "CATNAP THE CATNAP" written down in the great book. "Good luck, sir." He said. Then he nodded at the captain, who returned a look of approval, before retreating to the lower decks.