Fanfic Legacy - Prequel Series

[Alqualisse]

Fallen - the Tale of Naiore Dannan

Naiore was born into a time of peace within Gil-Galad’s court in the fourth year of the Second Age. From the outset, she was known to be different. She was a singularly beautiful child, with the fair hair of Finarfin's folk and eyes of living emerald. Naiore was quiet and self possessed from birth. She seldom smiled, and laughter was rarer still, yet she was not a sad or angry child. To her mother, Naiore seemed merely far older than her years. Beautiful as her eyes were, they looked on a world about which she seemed to know too much. Naiore was but two years old when her kinswoman, Galadriel, warned her parents and Gil-Galad to approach Naiore with caution. Though she could not see all ends, Galadriel sensed a powerful shadow lay over the child’s future.

Naiore’s childhood was thereafter spent under the ever watchful gaze of her parents. No one, not even Galadriel, could have known what they had set in motion. Naiore was born with an unusual gift that grew as she did. She was highly sensitive to the emotional states of others. As a child, she sensed the distance of her parent’s love though they strove to overcome that within themselves. She sensed how different this was for other children. Naiore’s young mind drew the most logical conclusion. She was loved less because of some flaw within herself. It is no small wonder that it became true.

Naiore turned ever inward. She sought no childhood friends and held herself apart, fearing somehow that the thing that flawed her so would be discovered, her sensitivity to the emotional landscapes around her. Naiore found it extraordinarily difficult to withstand the pressure of other’s emotions. She began erecting barriers behind which she could shelter. To those around her, Naiore seemed aloof. This withdrawal came to be seen as arrogance as she matured into a woman accounted beautiful by lofty Noldorin standards. Many of Gil-Galad's court could not help but observe her beauty and mystery and vied for her attentions. Naiore found this intolerable, for she knew that those that sought her had no concept of who they were attempting to win. The entire social façade of Gil-Galad’s court was something Naiore began to build a great store of contempt for.

The High King’s court was a happy one in those days, but a court all the same. Individuals vied for position, rank and advantage all the while. Naiore abandoned her parents and Gil-Galad’s court in II – 936, seeking the peace and solace of lands less populated. Naiore eschewed all others for a great while, however in II - 1004, she did permit the Lord of Eriador to espy her as she rode through his realm. Celebrimbor was utterly fascinated by her from the outset. Naiore was similarly transfixed by the grandson of Feanor.

Celebrimbor found a woman of equal intellect and keen perception. He found her quietness refreshing and her mystery alluring. He did not conceal these things from her and he did not flatter her to attempt to beguile her with artiface. Naiore found a man of utter honesty. He was the first and only to truly understand who she was and he loved her deeply for her gifts, seeing her abilities as something to be nurtured and tended rather than a flaw to be concealed and eradicated. Despite his brilliance as a smith, Celebrimbor sought humility, a rare trait in the Noldorin, as a measure of atonement for the pride of his forbearers. Naiore delighted in Celebrimbor and to him gave her heart when it was yet whole, unblemished and hers to give.

In II – 1249 Celebrimbor and Naiore both found themselves drawn to the mysterious Annatar. His lore was deep, his ways charming and the lovers were irresistibly gathered to him. Annatar delighted in the teaching of two such as Celebrimbor and Naiore. For Celebrimbor and his smiths, Annatar instructed them on the forging of rings and devices of power. For Naiore, Annatar stoked the temporarily banked turmoil of her upbringing and deepened her gifts so that she could not only sense the emotional states of others, but influence them them. Annatar's teaching combined with Celebrimbor’s unflagging love saw Naiore come to view something she had considered a flaw as a gift. In time, Naiore came to resent those who had attempted to shape her in the past. She started to feel how deeply wronged she had been. She loved her parents too much to blame them but the same could not be said for Galadriel and Gil-Galad.

By the time Sauron’s true identity and purpose had been unveiled, Celebrimbor were enmeshed beyond all saving in his webs. Celebrimbor managed, at least, to save the West through the secret forging of the Elven rings. He could not, however, elude Sauron's wrath. War spread across Eriador, obliterating his people. Sauron let it be known that none other than Naiore, beloved of Celebrimbor, was responsible for the smith’s capture and death in II – 1697. Galadriel, who had forseen something of the shadow that lay of Naiore, had no reason to suspect Sauron lied.

Naiore was disavowed by her people. They refused to offer her aid and accounted her complicit in the tragedy that had befallen Celebrimbor’s people. Her voice had been one of the strongest arguing in Annatar’s favour and Sauron’s lies about her involvement in Celebrimbor’s capture only proved what had been feared for so long. Utterly betrayed, Naiore’s rage at her people only propelled her toward the harbour that Sauron offered her. Though she knew something of his malice, for her the betrayal of her people scored her all the deeper. It pleased Sauron greatly to have seduced a Noldorin Elf. However, Sauron never enjoyed Naiore’s full loyalty. Naiore turned to Sauron for one purpose – to retrieve her beloved Celebrimbor, who lingered in his dungeon. She could not countenance leaving her beloved to his fate. She now had nowhere else to go.

The first hint of the difficulty Sauron faced with Naiore came when she secreted Celebrimbor from his dungeon and hid him. Naiore was forced to return to Sauron, there was no succour elsewhere and a price had been set upon her head by Gil-Galad for her alleged treachery. Survive she had to, for Celebrimbor now depended on her entirely in his broken state. Sauron exacted a terrible vengeance for her disobedience. On the rare occasions that she was permitted to escape her terrible master, it was to Celebrimbor that she went.

Now freed from his guise as Annatar, Sauron no longer had to hide his hand. His power reigned free over Naiore and ultimately shaped her into the terror she would become, only confirming his position as Middle Earth's new Dark Lord. As Melkor had corrupted Maiar to form Balrogs and the Avari Elves to form orcs, Sauron shaped Naiore. Sauron was not given to recording his acts, and Naiore never spoke of it. We can only guess at what she endured in this time. Not once, however, did she give up the location of her beloved or his three Elven Rings. Not once did she permit her master to sense that last remaining warmth that is true love within her. Not once did Naiore openly disobey or refuse her master again. There was but one road left for her to walk and it led into the heart of evil. She took it freely in the end.

It was through Naiore that Sauron seduced the nine Black Numenoreans into his servitude. Sauron used Naiore to quell and press three realms of lesser men into his service: Harad, Rhûn and the exterior fringes of Khand. Though mortals held no interest for Naiore, she found them easy to bend to her will. Their fear of death, their desire for glory, their lust for power provided the Elf with easy thing to manipulate. Such tasks also provided Naiore with the opportunity to go to Celebrimbor. Despite her efforts, however, she could not heal the smith. Celebrimbor died in her arms in II – 3434. The death of her beloved robbed Naiore of any last vestige of hope.

The depth of her grief and ensuing despair was demonstrated in the terrible slaughter of the Silvan Elves of Greenwood and the forces of Lorien in what would become known thereafter as the Dead Marches. Word of the event and its architect came inevitably to Elendil and Gil-Galad: an elven woman. Noldorin and perilously fair; cold as northern ice. The Battle of Dagorlad endured over several months. Naiore was rarely sighted in this time. However rumour of her eddied through the Last Alliance until Gil-Galad was left with no option but to conclude that this horror was none other than Naiore Dannan – the woman held responsible for the fall of a Eriador and treachery of the man who loved her beyond all reason. Gil-Galad tripled the price on her head for any who needed such motivation.

Open battle was never to Naiore’s taste. She found such excesses as distasteful. She considered common violence as beneath her. Such acts she left to Sauron’s lesser forces of orcs and men. Naiore continued to prey insidiously upon the Last Alliance, in particular Gil-Galad’s forces, across the seven year siege of Barad – Dûr. The infamous deadliness of the siege arose in no small part to Naiore’s activities. It was a simple thing for her to manipulate the emotions of those arrayed against her master. War grinds the most noble, the most loyal, the brightest of men and Elves down. She could easily inspire them to fall on their own weapons in the night, or to fall on each other in fits of sheer madness. However, it had to be said that Naiore did not take any overt act to break the Last Alliance though it remained in her grasp to do so. Her abilities by this time were fearsome and prodigious.

 

[Alqualisse]

Sauron’s fear of Numenor’s remnants grew, amusing her greatly. It was only Cirdan’s presence that kept her at bay in Barad – Dûr across the seven year span of the siege. Why the mariner inspired fear in her is unknown. In desperation, Sauron offered combat against Gil-Galad and Elendil on the slopes of Mount Doom to bring the impasse to an end. Naiore’s hand was in that, counselling Sauron softly, manipulating her master with the skills he had taught her. This was not idle entertainment on her behalf. Naiore held her master as accountable for Celebrimbor’s death as she did her own people. If they slaughtered each other, so much the better to her.

As Sauron went to meet with his defeat and the end of the Second Age, Naiore went to the dungeons of Barad – Dûr. She easily installed herself amongst the many prisoners Sauron had taken during the siege. In the turmoil of their victory and the death of Gil-Galad and Elendil, the Last Alliance flung the dungeons of Barad – Dûr open and Naiore was freed. She fled and was lost to those of the West that later thought to look for her. It was easier to consider her extinguished and any pursuit of her was soon given up.

Sauron did not return to Dol Guldur alone in III – 1100. Naiore met him there and reunited they set about re-establishing his work. Why she did so is of some mystery. Clearly she had no love for Sauron. Perhaps, however, some path is better than none at all. Naiore had sporadically kept the Nine in some control, during Sauron’s absence, along with the servitude of the southern realms. Gandalf secreted himself into Dol Guldur twice, but Naiore was seeing to matters elsewhere and was not seen by the Wizard

Sauron had plans for Dunland and Rohan, and in particular with the palantíri of Numenor. Conflict between Dunland and Rohan spilled over on more than one occasion due to Naiore’s activities, but her chief work was in subverting the palantíri of Minas Ithil that had been captured in III – 2002. By the time Sauron returned to Mordor, Naiore had suborned the Ithil palantíri and sowed the seeds to destabilise the White Council and Minas Tirith both.

Naiore’s tangible role in the War of the Rings was, thankfully for the West, minor. Sauron used her cautiously, in this time, and Naiore had never claimed any interest in the realms of Men. An eternity of nothingness stretched before Naiore and into that maw vanished all meaning. She was becoming increasingly unreliable, but she was too valuable to cast aside. Sauron had started to comprehend how dangerous the tool he had created could truly be. It was Naiore that stole Gollum from Mirkwood for interrogation. It was Naiore who interrogated the pitiful creature. By this time she was capable of instilling indescribable pain that transcended physical boundaries. She made short work of Gollum. The wretch was weak before she got to him, stretched so thinly by her master's Ring. It was Naiore that gathered the wraiths to be sent north in pursuit of Baggins.

Mistrustful of Saruman, Sauron reluctantly dispatched Naiore to Rohan to seek the ring directly. Sauruman’s orcs however had raised the hackles of a nation already fighting a war with itself and its eastern neighbour. She narrowly escaped detection by the Rohirrim by taking flight into Fangorn. Her presence in Fangorn did not go un-noted and it was this which so roused the terrible Huons of Fangorn, to Saruman’s regret and Helms Deep’s relief. When Gandalf revealed himself as the White Wizard, Naiore retreated to the far north, utterly forsaking Sauron to his destruction. The mistakes that were made at the end of the Second Age were not repeated at the end of the Third. Her body was not found in the ruins of Mordor. This time her fallen master’s enemies actively sought for her. The surviving peoples of Middle-Earth faced an unprecedented possibility of eliminating all Shadow. They would not let one so dark as Naiore survive.

Naiore’s future as a fugitive was a bleak one. She could not return to Valinor, where her parents had fled long ago. She would slowly fade on mortal shores, an ignominious end. She was bereft of purpose, people and place. Galadriel’s departure from mortal shores robbed Naiore even of vengeance for the long list of sorrows she had lain at her kinswoman’s feet. Naiore had nothing but the dark memories of her life and she started to wish for death. She resolved to journey a final time to Celebrimbor’s cairn. This required Naiore to venture south, to Eriador. In a rare instance of carelessness Naiore was sighted by a Ranger of the North, Hanasian, and pursued. She eluded the Ranger but did no more than that, intent only on reaching her beloved’s grave. Her path crossed men of Khand that were well acquainted with her: the Khats. With Hanasian closing on her, Naiore saw an opportunity to buy necessary time and a desired death. She agreed to assist the Khats in their bid.

The Khats travelled north, there waylaying Hanasian and his men and drawing the Ranger into their net. Naiore, meanwhile, ventured to Celebrimbor’s cairn. What passed there, what was said to the silent stones no one can tell, but when Naiore went south to Pelagir the final piece of her tale had fallen into place. She knew that the Khats were targeting a Khand general, one of the few who had allied themselves with the West, through the capture of his daughter and an informant. Naiore ensured the general was lured to Pelagir to save his daughter, knowing the instruction she had issued to the Khats would seem them rendezvous there. The Khats, the general and his men nor Hanasian and his Rangers could guess at her machinations.

Naiore’s final act in Pelagir was a contradiction. She intervened to spare the Khat captive further torment and eased Simra’s final moments into death with a tenderness perhaps only seen meted out to one other before, Celebrimbor. She pushed the Khat leader into a precarious, intolerable position, setting the man up to fall to the combined might of the general’s men and the Rangers of the North. Lastly, Naiore invited her execution by the Ranger that had picked up her trail in the north, Hanasian.

 

[Alqualisse]

It is this last encounter with Naiore Dannan of which a tale survives in the most complete detail, due to Hanasian’s habit of recording his experiences. This is what he said:

It was a bright day on which terrible deeds unfolded. I know not what hand she had in any of them, but suspect she had some involvement in all of it. I was surprised to see her reveal herself on that morning. She simply removed her cowl and stood on the dock. She made no move to defend herself. She could have hidden. She could have used her terrible powers to force us to undo ourselves. She did none of these things. She merely revealed to us that Simra had been foully murdered, taunting us to strike at her, and then turned her back. I hesitated, for it seemed to me that something else was afoot.

General Arghet fired the first arrow in his grief over his daughter. His son followed and then so too did my men before I could put a stop to it. By that time the feathered shafts of many arrows quivered from her back. I confess I was uneasy. We had attacked a woman while her back was turned. I knew we would enjoy no measure of honour from her, but I was troubled that we had lost that part of ourselves in this act.

She fell to her knees then. I thought it some trick or treachery of hers and so I was careful in my approach. Despite her evil, she was fair beyond any measure. She watched me approach and said nothing. She felt pain. It showed in her eyes, but she seemed relieved also. Some of the arrows had pierced her through. I could the bloody red points where they emerged from her chest and stomach. I did not know how it was that she was still alive, though Elf she be. ”’Ware,” she warned.

I did not understand until the first wave hit me. It is difficult to describe, but I will attempt it. Emotions as strong as any flooding sea spilled out of her, like a sea wall that had been breached. Oceans of torment, pain, sorrow, despair, loneliness and, unbelievably, love. By the time my head cleared, I was lying on the ground. So too were my men and the Elf. By the third such wave, we had learned how to withstand it. The same could not be said for the Khats and they were easily overcome as a result. Some had been driven mad. I realised then that for each and every act she was responsible for, she also paid the price that she had locked within her across the centuries.

The walls she had built about herself were failing as she was dying. There was an image of a male Elf in my head. I don’t know why, but I asked her who it was. She told me that it was Celebrimbor. I thought to try to save her so that she could stand to answer for her crimes. But there were many arrows and she was weakening fast, losing blood. She did not beg or speak or whimper. She went in silence, smiled at the last and went wherever it is that Elves go.

Once her spirit had fled her body, it was difficult to believe she had been responsible for so much evil. Even in death, bloodied and pierced, she was beautiful. I had her buried, unmarked and unnamed. I did not wish to create a place to draw other darkness to, nor create a beacon for those who may wish to despoil her remains. Anyone who felt her death understood the price she had paid already. I took her garrotte and Noldorin sword as proof of her death, the others of my company took her daggers, but I will not claim the reward that has sat on her head since the Second Age.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long indeed was Naiore's time in the Halls of Mandos. Great indeed had her evil been. She had fallen far, but she had not done so unassisted. By mortal count, it was many thousands of years before she emerged into the gardens of Lorien and there reunited with her beloved.

 

[Alqualisse]

Small Mercies - Westfold, Rohan - IV 26

"Frea, for the love of all horses, would you just go to sleep?!"

Frea squinted out at the darkness and ignored his twin who lay comfortably stretched out on the other side of their fire. They had camped in the westfold and it was a glorious summer night. The twin's were, perhaps, three days ride from their home and it was a time of peace. They came to experience such a wonder, so long at war with the Black Company… Folca studied his brother's back. Frea's shoulders were wound tighter than a spring. Watching, always watching for attack unlooked for. Folca had hoped time away with their family would help to ease his twin's frame of mind. Each day since they had set out on leave, Folca had nursed that hope. Each night, before he went to sleep, Folca marked another day had passed without so much as a faint smile from Frea. Aside from the crackle of their fire, their camp grew silent.

"What do you watch for, brother?" Folca asked. Again Frea made no answer. With a sigh, Folca rolled to his side.

"Good night, Frea," he said as his eyes drifted shut.

"Good night, Folca," Frea answered in his mind, eyes roaming the far horizon and anything that moved between them and that distant perimeter.

The following morning unfolded like those before it since they had set out. Folca awoke to find the fire had been coaxed through the night and Frea was awake and cooking breakfast. Again, Folca wondered when his twin slept.

"Good morning, Frea," Folca said, stretching.

"Is it?" Frea snapped, jiggling the fry pan so hard that their breakfast fell out of the pan and into the fire. Folca wondered if he was about to meet the same fate. Had the unrelenting strain finally caught up with his twin?

"Something amiss?" Folca asked warily.

"Robbed…. Here in the westfold! Robbed!"

"How? Were they invisible? You were watching."

"Not the whole night, if you must know."

"Good."

"GOOD?"

"Yes," Folca said firmly, "Good. You cannot continue without sleep indefinitely. I see our horses and tack are still here, so what did our bandits make off with aside from your sunny disposition?"

"A whole side of bacon and the rest of the eggs," Frea growled, poking at the sausages he had dropped into the fire with a blackened stick. Folca's good mood dampened somewhat.

"So, I take it that the last of our breakfast is what you're currently attempting to stab to death with a pointy stick?"

Frea left off poking at the sausages and straightened to peer about them. There was only plains, undulating and punctuated by rocky gatherings of boulders, as far as the eye could see.

"I'll find you, you filthy scavenging thieves and when I do…" he shouted.

Folca stood, rolling up his bedroll and crossing to an unplundered saddle bag. No, he amended as he opened it and saw that someone had been through it. There was simply nothing to compete with a side of bacon and eggs. He didn't blame them, whoever they were. If he had a choice, he would chose boiled grass over hardtack. Folca fished the hardtack out and returned, handing Frea a piece to gnaw on.

Chewing on his own piece of leather, Folca left Frea to his brooding and started to perform an inventory. Horses, tact and weapons were all accounted for. Hardtack, unfortunately, was still in abundant supply. But Folca noted that they were missing other things… apples and cheese… and a spare water skin that he carried just in case, along with a spare pair of simple hide shoes he also carried in case of emergency. He summoned up a mental image of the perpetrators… hungry, barefoot, thirsty… Folca stowed this knowledge away. His twin was already frothing to pick up the pursuit and hunt them down.

When they pulled in for another night, Frea was positively quivering with frustration. Another meal of hardtack only made matters worse.

"Faugh! If they come back tonight, I'll skin them alive," he snarled between tearing at the hardtack.

"In that case, they had better take your knives," Folca said loudly. Frea's eyes narrowed at his twin.

"Oh brother… all they've taken is food, water and some shoes… these are hardly bandits. They left the money untouched and left the most valuable things in camp," Folca remonstrated.

"They'd better not lay a finger on my spear."

"I meant the horses."

"All the same, Folca. Thieving is thieving. They get caught in Edoras, they'd swing for it… maybe the gibbet if Eomer were in a particularly foul mood. I'll not withhold the King's justice and neither should you."

"Well then… all you need to do is find some trees, knock up a gibbet and wait," Folca said, losing his patience with the rigidity of his brother's thinking.

Frea was a good man. One the best he knew, truth be told, but woe betide anyone that slights his pride or sense or right and wrong.

"Starved of bacon, eggs and rational conversation, I think I'll turn in," Folca grumbled.

He wrapped his bedroll around him and left Frea to squint in the darkness after desperate thieves. He woke with a start much later at a signal all in the Black Company knew. Frea made the bird call again and a third time. Years of deployment together soon had Folca up and moving silently with his spear and bow in hand towards where his brother waited.

The moon had already started to set. By the light of its rays, Frea hand signed his twin. Folca almost slapped his forehead for him. Frea had woken him up from a perfectly fine dream of a certain northern maid for this? Folca didn't need hand signals to convey his response. Frea signed again and Folca resigned himself to the current situation. One thief sighted around a nearby boulder. They were to split up and circle around to apprehend the rascal. Folca laid down his spear in the long grass and partially nocked an arrow to his bow. Frea did the same. The twins then headed off, keeping below the grass-line and moving with the experience stealth of men accustomed to covert activity in the name of the Reunited Realm.

They hit the boulder at the same time and different positions. What they found brought both up short. Their thief was a thin slip of a girl, barely more than a child. She huddled against the stone trying to shield herself from the wind and peered from time to time around in the direction of the camp. Folca looked across to where his brother had stationed himself and was relieved to see the arrow sagged. Folca studied the girl. Ten summers or younger, if he had to guess. Her hair was a startling pale gossamer that drifted in the wind like spun silk. It was hard to make out her face in the darkness. Moon light danced over her skin. Thin legs and arms, too thin… and more holes than dress was what she was clad in. She looked to have outgrown it. A more forlorn, heartbreaking sight could not be contrived.

 

[Alqualisse]

Folca and Frea sat. She was anxious, agitated. If they emerged, she'd fly into the grasses. She was waiting for someone too. It wasn't long before a slightly older boy emerged, displaying remarkable stealth for one so young. The girl flitted to him like a frail bird and they spoke. It was hard to make out what was said, but it was clear from the shaking of the boy's head that there would be no thieving tonight. He was in little better shape that the girl, his own hair sandy and his own clothing in poor condition. Still, he wrapped a protective arm around the girl's shoulders and they slunk away. Once Frea and Folca were sure that they had gone, they too returned to camp. Both men sat there, staring at the fires.

"Children," Folca said. He did not think he would ever forget what he had just seen. They were so frail as to nearly be ghosts.

"Robbed by children," Frea observed, "Starving children." The gibbet suddenly seemed ghoulish now that he knew who had been pilfering from them.

"Where are their parents?" Frea asked.

"Dead and buried is my guess, like so many others," Folca replied softly.

Frea nodded at the truth of this. Few had survived the War without death touching them. Some felt the touch harder than others. No parent would permit their children to wander the westfold alone at night, even in these times of contented peace.

"They'll freeze come winter," Frea said, voice bleak as the first blizzard of the year.

Both men fell silent and wrapped themselves in their bedrolls. It took both men some time before sleep claimed them. When Frea and Folca woke, the hardtack for breakfast did not taste so bitter. Neither twin spoke to each other about what they did next. Rather, each man implicitly understood what they were doing.

Each evening they would stop early, set up camp and leave. When they returned at nightfall, invariably something had been taken. First to be left out for the children were blankets. It went on from there. Each night, the boy and sometimes the girl, would steal hesitantly into camp. Each night, the twins would watch. Frea's smile would flicker as he studied them turn things over with the curiosity innate to all children. Without fail, they passed over weapons, tack, horses and even money. Coins could not be eaten. They learned the children's names… Loch for the boy who was perhaps fourteen, and Rin for the girl. Loch would linger wistfully around the weapons until Rin scolded him away from them. She would linger around the various medical supplied they carried with them until Loch scolded her away from them.

It took Frea and Folca a little longer to reach their home, but when they did they were both considerably lighter of heart. Their little thieves were not so bold as follow them that far. Too many people about, Folca surmised. When it came time to leave, the twins ensured they were well supplied for the journey north… very well supplied indeed. No more than a days ride out, did their young thieves reappear. They continued this all the way through Rohan and even into Dunland. Frea did not once complain about the delay their slower pace caused. On the outskirts of Bree, the twins spoke briefly.

"No one can ever know that we were robbed by children… and let ourselves be," Frea said as they neared Bree's south gate. Folca agreed entirely.

"Absolutely, brother. We have a reputation to uphold after all," he replied and after a brief pause,"Do you think they fare well?"

"I hope so, Folca. I hope so."

Many years passed before the twins sighted their thieves again. They rode late at night through the East Gate of Bree to find the girl was a girl no longer. She stood, a woman flowered, with their captain. Her gaze flickered over the party the twins rode with, partly curious and partly concerned, never hesitating on Frea or Folca. The twins exchanged quiet grins with each other as they rode for the Prancing Pony. There they found the other thief, a man in his own right, with the same tangle of sandy hair. He too did not recognise their benefactors from long ago. Indeed, how could they given the care both had taken to avoid contact with Frea and Folca at the time. As the twins climbed the stairs for their beds, Folca could not help himself.

"Is it them, do you think?" he asked Frea.

"Lock up your hardtack," Frea responded, drawing puzzled glances from the other men. Who would want to lock up hardtack?

 

[Alqualisse]

Best Laid Plans


Edoras, Rohan - IV 33

The wind was biting, gnawing with cruel icy teeth. It was a clear night. The sky was jeweled velvet stretched overhead. The white shards of the mountains glittered like diamonds under star and moon. Below, far below, the plains sprawled beneath a swaying, sighing coverlet of the last grasses of the season. The crops had been brought in, stores laid down for the winter ahead. Its approach clutched at her with gnarled, bony fingers. The two of them stood on the very edge, the foundation stones of Meduseld cold and hard where they pressed against their backs. They peered down into the murk. The northern escarpment had made sense at the time. No one would expect the thieves to escape this way.

"Always easier to get in than out," Loch rumbled beside her. Rin peered at the small bundle she clutched. Ridiculously small, considering the circumstances they now faced.

"Why is it that reason and good sense reassert themselves now?" she asked the night. Hesitation was brought to a close by the shout men and the sound of guard boots. They had to find cover, and quickly. Either that, or try their luck on the escarpment.

"You know where we could lay low?" Loch asked. Rin's mind turned swiftly.

"Ordinarily yes, but the hall is filled with guests for the feast. There's neither nook or cranny to be spared."

"Well then," Loch reluctantly replied, peering down again. "This cheese had better be worth a broken neck," he muttered.

"It's cheese, Loch," Rin replied, as if explaining the concept to an idiot.

"My point exactly. A broken neck for cheese..."

All she heard was a grunt as he levered himself over the edge. The guards were closing fast. Around the corners in both directions, torchlight was getting brighter. She waited as long as her hammering heart permitted, then she slung the sack with the cheese over one arm and followed Loch. Their luck held long enough for Loch to reach the ground and for Rin to get six feet from it. Loch flattened himself against the base of the escarpment as guards held torches out and peered down. Rin froze, like a spider on websilk... A spider carrying cheese. The wind gusted the guard's voices away from him. However, the taut rope went slack and panic galloped through Rin anew. Far above, a guard straightened, sheathing his knife whilst his fellows continued to peer down.

Rin fell like a stone, twisting midair to avoid landing on the cheese. She fell past where Loch stood with his face contorted into a horrified mask and landed face first with a jarring thud on the ground. Loch peered at her unmoving form sprawled in the grass. He peered upwards and saw guards lean back in. Heart racing, he edged out to where Rin lay and crouched by her. Even as he reached to roll her over and see if she was still alive, he hesitated as his panicked mind dredged up some memory of a scolding from Rin about moving people with severe injuries. After several heartbeats thundered by at a gallop, he heard her spit out grass and dirt to moan.

"What should I do, Rin?"

"Are my toes wriggling?"

He peered at her bare feet.

"Yes... That's a good sign, right?"

"How about my fingers?" Loch peered at both hands and started to confirm that they were until he caught a particularly crude gesture that made his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"That was uncalled for, Rin," he protested as his sister gingerly adjusted the sack and rolled over.

"Yeah? Whose bright idea was this, brother mine?"

"Well, no one forced you to tag along."

"One: there was cheese involved, so what do you imagine I would do? Two: you've never set foot in Meduseld and so you have no idea where the larder would be. Three: it was kept under lock and key and you're the worst lock pick this side of the Misty Mountains," Loch's rumble of injured pride was resoundingly ignored by his sister and she pressed on. "Four: you would have been arrested, empty handed, and we lack sufficient funds for me to get you out. Five: our lack of funds is what prompted you to take this stupid job in the first place."

"I liked you better when your mouth was filled with dirt. Are you quite done lounging around? I do believe I hear the sound of patrolling soldiers approaching..."

 

[Alqualisse]

Loch was careful to stifle a gleeful grin as his sister leapt to her feet with a startled oath.

"Where?" she asked, turning about to spot the impending threat.

Then she slowed and turned a searing blue glare loose on her brother. The effect was hampered by her current state. Her entire front, from head to foot was smeared in dirt and grass stuck out from her ragged, snarled hair. Loch grinned wildly at her, his teeth gleaming under moonlight in the darkness. Rin scowled and clutched the sack tightly to herself.

"What's so damn funny?" Rin snapped. Loch kept grinning at her.

"You look like a raggedy scarecrow that's been dragged forty miles through the mud behind a horse," he replied, ignoring her deepening scowl. Laughter bubbled up from his belly. He clamped a hand over his mouth. Rin crossed her muddy arms, tapped muddy fingers on them and jiggled one bare foot. It only made him laugh harder and he doubled over, trying to swallow it.

"And what do you call that dismount? The Rosmarin Special?" Loch gasped as he struggled to master himself. When he had straightened, Rin was already marching away in disgust. He was forced to jog to catch her up. She ignored him as they slipped into the now quiet streets of Edoras. The passing of a patrol forced them to duck into an alley way. Rin watched the mouth of the alley as Loch scanned for ways to the roof if the patrol followed them in. The patrol didn't even blink sideways and moved past. Of course, Loch and Rin had been slipping past patrols of various sorts since their childhood, so that was unsurprising.

Still, Loch liked to have an escape route and experience had taught that aerial ones were best. Armored men carrying weapons found it hard to clamber to rooftops, whilst the pair of them were virtual squirrels that cold scarper about without hesitation. Well, one squirrel and one muddy scarecrow. Loch's mouth curved into a grin, quieter now that the panic and fear that had fueled his relief at the escarpment had washed from him. They remained hunkered down, patiently waiting for the patrol to round the corner. Rin slid down the wall of a building, fatigue pounding at her.

"You want to finish this tonight, deliver it?" he asked as her eyes fluttered closed.

"No... I just want to wash up and go to sleep. Can't face dickering with Sturn tonight," she replied, voice weak. Adrenalin had soured and left her feeling queasy and shaky.

"Come on then, Rin. Let's go home," Loch said gently. He pulled her to her feet and this time singed pride did not preclude her from accepting his arm as they made the rest of the way home.

In a tiny room, under a sloping roof, Rin barely stayed awake long enough to dislodge the dirt and sweat and most of the grass. She sprawled on one of the two narrow cots, deeply asleep. The room was so small that the two cots precluded the presence any other furnishings or belongings. Still, to Loch and Rin it was home and the best besides since they had been forced away from the farm. It had four mostly weatherproof walls and the roof only leaked when the rain was particularly heavy. Loch lay back; arm stretched beneath his head and studied the timbers of the roof. The rhythmic breathing of his sister soothed him. Had they done it? Had they finally cracked some good fortune? For some bizarre reason, the cheese they had stolen was worth twenty gold marks. Twenty! That meant that they'd get four gold marks if the fence stayed good to his word. And if his sister didn't eat half of it. He had to stay awake to guard their precious haul.

Four gold marks was more money than they had ever seen. One gold mark was. Four gold marks would buy them both apprenticeships. Four gold marks would leave enough left to cover clothing and even shoes. Winter was coming. Of course, the fact the fee was so high had worried them, but then it was only cheese. How bad could a job get when it concerned cheese?

Four gold marks if the fence had to stay true to his word and fences, as a rule, do not. Sturn was worse than most. Loch pondered their next move to freedom, utterly unaware of sleep's ambush. When he woke, sunlight was trying to shoulder its way through the grime on their window and Rin was up and peering at their ill-gotten gains.

"If you eat that, Rosmarin..." Loch rumbled at her. Rin's nose crinkled and she set the cheese down.

"Why would I want to?"

"It's cheese. You're Rin."

"It's moldy cheese... Like spider webs all over it and through it as well from what I can see. And it SMELLS, As a general rule, I try to not eat moldy, smelly food unless we have to, cheese or not. I can't figure why rich people would want to..."

"Great.... you snatched the wrong cheese!"

"I did NOT Lochared. It's the right cheese. It was exactly where it was supposed to be, under lock and key. Why would they keep moldy cheese under lock and key? Why would moldy cheese be worth twenty gold marks? Why would anyone want to steal this cheese this badly as to steal it from beneath Eomer's nose... Aside from me, obviously," Rin amended as her brother leveled a withering stare at her.

Loch heaved a deep, philosophical sigh from his cot.

"Who knows, Rin. I gave up trying to understand how nobles think years ago."

Rin opened her mouth to say something that was interrupted by a series of loud knocks on their rickety door. Rin shoved the cheese into the sack and under her cot as Loch got to his feet and tugged the door open. In the hall was the owner of the building. She was a large woman, tall with earthy curves that she made no effort to conceal. Her hair was black as ink, with strands of silver gray starting to appear like moonbeams. She wore it loosely braided, for it was too early for customers. Her eyes were a deep, coal brown that scanned Loch's face and then Rin, who peered around her brother's shoulder. Her gaze swung back to Loch and there sizzled. Loch swallowed thickly. He ran his hand through his mop of sandy hair in the self-conscious way all young men do around confident, self assured and sensuous creatures such as the woman in the hall.

"Good morning manling," she purred, contented in his reaction and ignoring the roll of his sister's eyes behind him.

"G-Goo-Good morning," Loch stammered, cursing his suddenly thick tongue and dry mouth. Indulgent amusement flickered in her eyes. She was toying with him.

"Goo? Hardly seems pleasant," she drawled, winking at Rin who just remained impassive as a statue. Too serious by half, for one so young, the woman returned her attention to the older brother.

"What can we do for you Mistress Brianne?" Loch inquired, recovering his equilibrium. Brianne straightened from her lean against the doorframe, suddenly all business.

"Word is that some bold fool robbed Meduseld last night. Anyone fool enough to toss Meduseld will surely come sniffing after the next richest business in town. See to our security, manling.... And you'll need to stand watch tonight... Wouldn't put it past the cunning sot to make his way in as a client. Any strange faces come calling on my girls, you let me know immediately."

 

[Alqualisse]

Loch nodded solemnly and then something dawned upon him. All of the warmth that he had been basking in vanished.

"Problem manling?" Brianne inquired, noting Loch's change in demeanour. Loch cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Tonight? Rin and I have an appointment to make tonight."

"Now you listen close. Tonight is the biggest business day of the year. Tonight is feast night. They'll be here making merry from across Gondor and Rohan. All those soldiers in town with nothing to do but eat, drink and make merry. Tonight is when that thief will strike, if he'll strike. If you can't earn your keep tonight, then I'll find another way to recover the expense of your room and board..." Brianne's calculating gaze slid to Rin in a way that sent a chill skating down Loch's spine.

"She'd fetch a handsome price, manling, moreso if she's... "

"Fine... Tonight," Loch tersely said, the matter decided. The cheese will have to wait. He'd sooner hand Rin over to orcs than Brianne. Rin was tugging on his shirt. It meant his clever sister had an idea. Mollified, Brianne sheathed her claws and she was all spiced honey again. It was truly terrifying to watch the woman switch masks as rapidly as she did.

"Shame..." she sighed and smiled. She showed too many teeth, and her eyes remained cold as ice. Brianne turned to go and then paused.

"It will be a busy night. I'll expect innocent Rosmarin will be able to keep my girls in working order to see it through?" Rin shuddered.

"Of course, Mistress Brianne," Loch obediently replied. Loch waited until she was well down the hall, studying her swaying back before he closed the door again. When he turned to face Rin, he discovered her expression was distraught.

"What? I thought you had an idea?"

"I was going to take it to the fence tonight, but I can't now.... I hate this place, Loch! Hate it! What her 'clients' do to her 'girls'.... She doesn't care one flying damn about those women!" Rin turned away, wrapping her arms around her slight frame and muttering to herself. Loch scratched at his beard, his optimism now crumbling.

"The deal was that we get it to the fence tonight," he ruminated out loud, prompting the idea from his sister.

"We're both working tonight... But I could see if I could negotiate an extension," Rin suggested.

"Don't push past tomorrow morning. Depending on business tonight, we could slip away before dawn and finish the deal. We'd want to in any case. If Brianne already knows, then it won't be long before Meduseld officially knows and the feast is tonight. By dawn tomorrow, Edoras will be crawling with guards and the roads will be under watch."

"You think so? It's moldy cheese!"

"Moldy cheese worth twenty gold marks, Rin..." Loch replied, tapping the side of his nose in a manner that he imagined made him look devious and cunning even if Rin wouldn't have a bar of it. She though it made him look like an idiot.

Breakfast consisted of whatever was leftover from the night before, split between the staff at Mistress Brianne's establishment. Her 'girls' emerged, twenty weary women hailing from lands all across the re-united Realms, excepting Harad. They aged from a scandalous fourteen to their late forties and each in their own right was eye catching. Brianne's reputation catered to refined palates. Brianne's girls gathered around a long, heavy oak table in the kitchen along with the cook, ostler, Loch and Rin. Mistress Brianne was nowhere in sight. She took her meals privately, and never leftovers from the night before. Typically, little was discussed at breakfast.

Rin noted a black eye on one woman from Rhun, Khadre, and resolved to look in on the woman a little later. Given her descent and the origins of Mistress Brianne's clients, Khadre frequently arrived at breakfast injured one way or the other. Rin could mend the physical injuries... Somehow that never seemed enough. The clients last night had been hungry men, so there was little food to spare the next morning. What food there was went to Brianne's girls first. The cook and ostler drew a wage, so they could afford to buy in their meals. Loch and Rin usually managed to snag something, but never enough to feed the hunger of a twenty-one year man and an eighteen year old woman. Still, neither begrudged the food that went to the girls.

They left breakfast still hungry, as per usual, and set off on their respective days. It would take most of the day to see to Brianne's security arrangements in a manner that met with Brianne's satisfaction. It would take most of the day to locate the fence and negotiate an extension on delivery. Fences didn't stay in business being easily found. Loch and Rin took their leave of each other, and Loch sent a warning to Rin to be careful. She could look after herself, he knew, but the fence had a reputation. Rin stowed the makeshift knife Loch had fashioned from broken glass in one pocket of her slightly dirt and grass stained dress, gave him a wave and trotted off into the morning. Rin returned by midday, wearing a decidedly worried expression. By that time, Loch was tipping a bucket of water over his head out the front of the stables. Upon sight of his sister, he called out to her and waved the empty bucket in her general direction.

"You could do with a wash yourself, Rin. Come here and hold still!" he shouted at her. The ostler chortled as he went inside the stables to have his lunch in the cool.

"Loch, we're in trouble...don't you dare horse about! Put that bucket down and put your shirt on!"

Loch grounded the bucket and ducked into what passed for his shirt.

"Find Sturn?"

"No.... Do you not understand the word trouble?"

"No? What are you doing here, Rin? Get back out there and find him."

"I know where he is, Loch, and I'm not going to find him no matter how you snap at me. He's been rounded up with the morning patrol. They want the streets tidy for the feast tonight. I nearly got picked up myself! But that's not the worst of it."

"No? We have a sack of illegal smelly cheese and our buyer is in prison and that's not the worst of it?"

"No, we need to get that cheese back quick before anyone realizes it has been stolen or we're good as dead."

"Over cheese? You want us to un-steal cheese?"

"That cheese is worth between 100 and 200 gold marks, Loch, on count of its rarity. Something to do with sheep... And then there's the humiliation factor. The king has others kings and lords coming tonight on account of that cheese alone. What do you think they'll do to two thieves who stole something worth that much and publicly humiliated the King of Rohan?"

"How on earth are we going to put it back?"

"I haven't figured that out yet... "

Loch threw his arms up at his sides. "This just gets better and better..." he growled.

 

[Alqualisse]

"Don't snap at me, Lochared. It was your idea to take the job, a job we were going to get shorted on I might add. Four marks for something worth that much... We should have been up for twenty at least... It's not worth our necks, Loch. Next time, I do the talking when it comes to jobs, right? You going to stand there all day? By my guess, we have maybe two hours before they realize what was taken last night."

It took them half an hour to retrieve the cheese and make their way to Meduseld's front entrance. They squatted in the shade of an empty wagon and sized it up. Guards wearing the usual green and gold livery of Rohan moved about. It made Rin shiver just watching them. Their numbers were added by guarded in black and silver, with shining helms gleaming in the sun. Over the golden hall, several pennants caught the breeze. Two of them meant nothing to Loch or Rin. One was a silver swan on a black field and the other was a golden tree on a green field. Nobles of some sort, the pair presumed. What made Rin's stomach sink was a black flag with a white tree and seven glittering silver stars.

"Stones!" she swore, "See that?"

"High King... That means Knights..." Loch said quietly. Further study revealed Meduseld was a veritable ant hill of serving staff bustling about with final preparations. Rin had one idea and only one idea. She glanced at Loch.

"Do you think you could comb your hair?" she asked, weighing up her opening line and their odds of getting out of this in one piece... Knights!

"You're a fine one to talk," he muttered as he raked his fingers through it.

"You try finger combing hair this long," Rin retorted.

She protectively clutched her rapidly unravelling braid of pale gold. Even tangled and unkempt, it caught the light like spun gold. It just wasn't fair, Loch ruminated as he considered his own sandy hair and then halted himself as he realised he was wanting hair like his sister... a girl.... decidedly unmanly.

"Can fix that easily, like I said before," he offered.

"You cut my hair off and I'll cut something equally precious off you, you hear?"

"So what's the plan?" Loch said, redirecting his sister.

"They're bound to be short handed. I'll just get my job back and we'll be back inside."

Loch snorted within laughter until he realized she was serious.

"Just how do you propose to do that? You pretty much burnt that bridge last time."

"Well, I didn't steal her bracelet... And I could have if I wanted to... And I did not burn that bridge..." Loch made a quiet exploding noise and added hand gestures to match. Rin's denial came to a halt, but she was still frowning at him.

"And here you are, having stolen something infinitely worse," he said, glancing meaningfully at the sack.

"Well, I just won't ask Aranne for my job back. You got a better idea? Then quit chipping at me. Let's get this over with."

Getting her job back was not nearly as difficult as Loch feared it would be. Rin was not known for her tact or discretion when riled, and Aranne's false accusations had certainly wriggled under his sister's skin. As Rin thought, they were woefully short handed with so many extra guests in residence and a feast to prepare for. Rich and Loch were hurried inside and hustled straight to the laundries where they were left in the care of a red faced, sweating woman who surveyed each of them with a skeptical eye.

"You, lad, can head over there and lift the wet things up and into the rinsing tank. Don't touch them, mind you, or I'll scrub your hide."

The woman squinted at Rin a moment. "You could do with a scrubbing, lassie, so you ain't handling none of my washed work. Fetch that cart and go collect the things that what want washing and bring 'em back here. Understand?"

Loch and Rin nodded as yet more steam was added to the air. The woman clapped two massive hands together, making both jump.

"Then set to it!" she commanded and turned back to her work secure in the knowledge that everyone did what she told them to do.

"I'll find the kitchen and drop it off, then I'll come back here and fetch you," Rin whispered to Loch. One of the nearby workers hissed a warning.

"Don't let her catch you dawdling," she said.

That sent both scurrying. Rin flung the sack in the cart and pushed it back out the doors. She had a reasonable sense of confidence now. There was no reason why this couldn't work. All she needed to do was find the kitchen, drop the cheese there, collect Loch and leave again. As she walked, fellow workers nodded amiably and she kept her eyes suitably lowered whenever someone well dressed happened past. It was as she was watching her bare feet that a voice shouted from the doorway she was passing.

"Hie, it's about time!" a woman shouted crossly. Rin had two choices, run or play along. She opted to play along and pushed her cart into the large room. It was strewn with sleeping pallets, fur and dirty clothing. The owner of the voice was a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Rin. She took in Rin's disheveled state and clucked her tongue.

"They must really be short handed... Are your feet bare?" she asked, scandalised as her gaze travelled down to Rin's feet.

"Since I'm not washing the laundry with my feet, does it matter? Do you want my help or not?" Rin replied more sharply than she had intended. The woman flushed.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon your majesty. Yes, I do humbly crave your assistance. You should have been here half an hour ago. If we don't have this room cleared out by the time they get back, we'll both have our backs switched. Is that cart empty?"

Rin nodded under the ferocity of the woman's sarcastic barrage and the prospect of being switched. "Then hand it here and go take those to the laundry."

"But-"

"Give the damn cart to me, you simpleton, and take the full cart back to the laundry... What is that smell? Oh... Half an hour of dawdling about and you've collected one smelly old rag. When this is done, I'm going to have a word to the Steward about you. What's your name?"

Rin grabbed the full cart and pushed it out of the door at speed. She needed to get the cart back to the laundry and then back to this room to collect the one with the cheese on it, without handing over her name to the short tempered woman. The cart was piled so high that it was hard to stop once at speed and Rin was pushing it as fast as she could, skating around corners as she retraced her path to the laundry. The sound of the cart colliding with a person jolted both cart and Rin to a sudden standstill. Laundry toppled over onto her victim, adding insult to injury.

"Oh!" Rin squeaked and peered around the base of the cart to find a set of polished boots poking out from a pile of laundry.

"Now, that's charming, just charming," a male voice wheezed from beneath the pile. Eyes wide, Rin fell to her knees and started madly throwing laundry aside.

"Oh... Oh no.... Are you hurt? I am so very sorry.... I didn't know you were there! Are you-" The man's hand wrapped around her wrist as she plucked a piece of laundry up from his face. He was wincing, more from the smell of dirty laundry than anything else she hoped. He opened eyes as clear as a summer sky.

"Well met," he murmured and then winced again.

"Are you hurt?" Rin asked again.

"Pride, dignity mayhaps... And my sense of smell... But everything else seems to be in working order, including my eyes. Who, may I ask, are you?"

With his question, he smiled faintly and released her wrist. Rin sat back on her heels and took in the gravity of the situation. She had knocked some lordling off his feet with a cart full of laundry... and she was running out of time.

"No one," she replied cautiously, eyes darting away, and started to gather up the laundry that was now strewn about. The young man cautiously sat up, shook his head.

"No one... I come here fairly regularly and I've never seen you before... I'm sure I would remember if I had seen you before..."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Rin said, inwardly cringing as the man's gaze settled on her.

"Now, this is entirely my fault. I can see you're troubled by it, so I'll tell you what... How about I explain to the laundry mistress what happened. I couldn't bear to know that lovely back of yours got striped on account of my clumsiness. What do you say, young mistress No One?"

"Oh, that's not necessary, Sir. I wouldn't wish to trouble you further and I really must be off if you're sure you're not injured."

"Nonsense.... The matter is settled. I'll even push that cart of yours for the trouble I've caused. Which way to the laundry?"

Rin opened her mouth and closed it again, unaware that she was twirling the end of her tangled braid around her fingers. Despite his noble origins, he was a decidedly charming young man... Rin pointed in the direction of the laundry and they set off together. The young man carried most of the conversation at first. He said nothing of her bare feet or her stained and threadbare dress. Once he had his first shy smile from the nameless young woman at his side, he knew he was making progress. They made a curious pair and they were certainly noted by other guests familiar with the young man.

"I thought he declared himself above tumbling the household staff," one man said once the pair passed.

"Oh, you know how it is... He'll be married off before this time next year if his father has any say and she's certainly a pleasing distraction for all of the dirt and grass stains," the other replied with a chortle, "Let him pursue his wild hunt for this untamed waif."

 

[Alqualisse]

As it turned out, Rin was not the only lady charmed. Upon reaching the laundry, he had Rin and the laundry mistress eating out of his hand. On the hoist, Loch scowled as the young man bent over Rin's hand extravagantly, all courtly flourish and a grin that meant only one thing. Laundry mistress and thief alike watched the young man leave, each with a wistful sigh. Still slightly dazed, Rin turned to sight Loch. The thunderous look on his face was a bucket of cold water. Rin grabbed the nearest empty cart and raced back, carefully, for the room. She skidded to a halt as a full cart was pushed out and had to back up to let the cart pass.

"Took your sweet time again. Go on to the next room," the woman snapped at her. Rin studied the crest of the laundry pile. There was a queue...hopefully she could ditch the cart and double back, locate the cart and retrieve the cheese. This time, she had to get it back to the kitchen, no distractions. Rin darted into the next room and threw whatever was immediately to hand into the cart. By the time she got back to the laundry, her stomach sank like a stone. In the steamy murk, it would take her hours to locate the right cart. As another one was added to the growing queue, Rin darted to the far side of them and started as best she could.

The cheese was at the bottom of one of them. She dove head first into the first cart and found nothing but laundry. Rin wriggled her way out again, took a deep breathe and re-evaluated something. Best to start at the front of the queue and work her way back. She virtually crawled to the head of the queue, one cart back from the big steaming tanks and dove in. It was at this point that Loch spotted her by the waving of her bare feet.

"I'm going to swing for this for certain," he moaned and heaved another heavy steaming pile of laundry up and out of the tanks. His arms and back were screaming. Wet laundry was brutally heavy and he had to clear the tank at a demanding pace to keep the entire washing process going smoothly. By the time he turned back for another lift, Rin was diving into the next cart. It only confirmed that she'd lost the cheese. He swore as he hoisted the next batch of steaming laundry clear of the washing tanks and pivoted for the cooler rinse tanks. He was going to hang because she had gotten all tangled over some pretty boy lording and lost the damn cheese.

Diving into carts filled with dirty washing was vastly unpleasant. Doing so in the close, humid environment of the laundry whilst attempting to evade detection only made it more miserable. From cart to cart, with rising panic, Rin took a deep breath and dove to search for cheese. She'd never hated cheese before now. Another fruitless search had her wriggling back out again. The heat was terrible and it made her head spin. Suddenly, quite unbidden, came the vision of summery eyes and a charming smile to her mind. Rin slapped her forehead to clear her thoughts and dove into the next cart. She was a third of the way down the line.... No, by the time she had re-emerged more carts had been added and she was only a quarter of the way down the line. Each time she moved onto the next cart, she peered at the crest of the pile. She wasn't sure if she knew what she was looking for after all this time. Another deep breathe and in she went.

Rin was seeing double by the time she found the thrice blighted round of cheese. Loch heard her hoot with joy and caught her dancing through the steam, sack held high overhead. He dropped his pole and ignored the oaths as hot water gushed. He marched over to where his sister capered as though she was drunk. She was giggling when he reached her, something that she rarely did.

"FOUND IT," she all but shouted. Loch clapped a water logged hand across her mouth.

"Right, let's go return the wretched thing and get out of here," he growled, dragging her arm down, "Quietly and without any fuss. Got it?"

Rin nodded behind his hand, eyes twinkling in the poor light. She clutched the sack close and let Loch escort her from the laundry.

"Which way is the kitchen?" he asked. Rin pointed and he headed off towing her behind him. He attempted to release Rin but soon found she was prone to wandering off untended, giggling. He had to retrieve her on several occasions, one of which he was horrified to discover her waving coquettishly at a cluster of young Gondorian nobles. They were studying her with open, undisguised interest. His sister was the sort of women men noticed, much to his consternation over the past three years.

"Are you drunk?" Loch snarled and then paused. He leaned closer and caught the unmistakeable scent of ale and wine... All that laundry... She'd gotten drunk on fumes diving into the carts. Rin giggled and Loch cast his eyes upwards, beseeching the heavens for aid. As per usual, they weren't listening and he was in this mess with his drunk sister and an appallingly smelly, expensive piece of cheese. Not much to work with.

"Come on then, let's get this disaster over and done with," he sighed "You sure the kitchens are this way?"

Rin nodded earnestly and he continued on hoping she was not so drunk as to be beyond all reasoning and recall. At the next pause, Rin threw her arms around Loch's neck and hugged him fiercely.

"S'arright Loch," she slurred in a way that was supposed to be reassuring, immediately followed by "The hall is spinning." Loch's last vestiges of hope faded.

Another few twists and turns, Rin becoming increasingly inebriated as the fumes permeated her blood stream, and they found the kitchen. If the laundry had been busy, kitchen was a hive of frenetic activity. Loch deposited Rin in an alcove and left her there with strict instructions to stay there. He wasn't sure if she heard him, humming that barroom tune like she was. He snatched up the sack for the first time and edged into the kitchen cautiously.

Loch sighted a corner of a table and made for that, thrusting his hand into the sack as he went. He fished out an old shoe and the entire world came to a sudden, crashing halt as he realized what he was brandishing in the air. A strangled cry of abject misery and frustration tore free of him he realized the whole of the kitchen stared at him as he clutched a shoe.

"Get this out of here at once, you fool," a chef cried. Loch stumbed back over his heels, the shoe still aloft. A sea of amazed faces surrounded him. He turned and fled, throwing Rin over his shoulder on his way. How he got out of Meduseld in one piece was a blur, but he did. He got them both back to their tiny room and dropped Rin onto her cot. She was soundly, blissfully asleep. Loch knelt and reached under her cot to find the other sack, the one with the cheese. Were he in a rational frame of mind he would have noted how similar the two sacks smelled. He sank onto the edge of his cot, anger and despair lapping at him.

By dawn the next day, the uproar was all through Meduseld. King Eomer had been publicly humiliated at his own feast, in front of his vassals and friends. Rumor was already rife that a rival faction of his own court that had been agitating for occupation of Rhun was responsible for this oh so subtle slap to the king's face. Rin, for her part, kept wisely silent as she walked west with Loch, towards the southern cusp of the Misty Mountains and away from Edoras. The cheese was a millstone Loch insisted she carry. He had been disturbingly quiet since they set out, brooding. That evening, sheltering behind some boulders to gain respite from the wind, Loch demanded that she bring forth the cheese.

"Eat it," he said flatly.

"It's smelly and moldy," she protested.

"Eat. It. Rosmarin. Now."

Her stomach had been far from easy all day as a result of her unwitting inebriation from the day before. It twisted within her. Still, there was something dangerous about Loch's demeanor. She gouged out a small morsel, closed her eyes and placed it on her tongue. She nearly spat it back out again.

"More," Loch ground out. Rin repeated the process.

"You know, this whole job was not my idea Loch," she said after the second mouthful.

"How was I to know you had your smelly old shoe in a sack under my bed anyway? Who keeps one shoe? In a sack? Under his sister's bed?" she asked after the fourth. Her questions were falling on deaf ears.

By the time she reached the sixth mouthful, Rin started to appreciate a certain earthy complexity to the cheese Loch was forcing her to eat. She was careful to keep her face blank. It would take Rin four days to consume all their ill-gotten gains. Not once did she let a hint that she had come to rather enjoy the smelly, moldy cheese... Just like she carefully guarded the recollections of a pair of summer blue eyes. She rather enjoyed those too…

 

[Alqualisse]

OOC - And now we go backwards, to darker time, an earlier time. If themes of violence and suffering trouble you, do not read on.

Fourth Age - Year 22 Dunland

He had known it would be hard when they first ran from the demons that shattered their home their family. He was not so young to think it would be easy. But never had he realised it would be as hard as this! Loch stared at his feet stretched out before him. They were too large for his spindly legs. He had no idea how he had not lost his fingers or toes…or life…or hers. The nine year old boy looked to where his sister lay. She was wrapped into a tight ball near by, sleeping. She had not said a word since the day they ran. Not even in her sleep. He could see her spine now, all knobbly. Da would have said she were too thin, too poorly to be helped. Da would have eased her suffering, were she one of his horses. Da said that sometimes such things were kindnesses. Thinking of Da, left him feeling more hollow than his empty belly. Da was gone now and only he was left. Him and his sister. He had considered it. Were better than starving, or freezing, bit by bit turning black, rotting. But he'd not even had the courage for that.

Somehow they had made it through the bitterest cold of winter. The warmth of summer was some way off still. They were so weak now that Spring just might finish off what Winter had started. Loch swallowed and cocked his hearing for the baying dogs. The sound of pursuit was fading. So were they. They'd not even managed to bring with them the food that had triggered the dogs. The eggs and bread had been dropped in their desperate flight. All their remaining strength was expended. Loch squinted up at the sky. Patches of distant, remote blue showed between the rafters of the dilapidated barn they had sought shelter in. They'd been squatting in the barn for days. All of the feral chickens were gone now, their bones and feathers the only thing left. They'd been so hungry that they'd eaten them raw. It hadn't been a good idea. Rin had gotten ill and it was hard to get all the feathers out when your hands were slick with blood and you had nought to wash or dry them with.

Like all the other places, they'd not be able to stay here long. It did not do to settle in. That was one lesson learnt early on that he'd not forget. The farm this barn belonged to had a house. It weren't empty, he knew from early scouting. People lived there, with dogs. A man and woman. No children. Only dogs. Pigs too...but they were too big and clever to catch. The house was a ways off, far enough away to keep this barn in poor repair and them safe, relatively. The caved in roof and gaping walls offered little shelter, but least they weren't out in the open. He suspected the men that had chased them off today might continue looking. They wore uniforms. Black ones, with pretty silver markings like a tree. Their dogs weren't like the ones on this farm. Their dogs were knots of raw power, straining at the leash. He didn't know why they hadn't let them off. Made no sense. Unless they meant to track them later, in their own time. He'd tried give them a trail no man or dog could track, like Da had shown him. He was not confident it would be enough.

Loch eased himself down and curved around his sister's back for warmth.

"Be alright, Rin. Promise," he whispered like he always did. She never answered with words, but she responded in other ways. He felt her settle back against his thin chest and sigh. Was a long time before Loch managed to close his eyes.

Perhaps a mile away, in one of the few snow drifts that remained, a man crouched. He was a tall man, with dark hair and grey eyes. His face was a young one, but his expression was not one of callow youth. He squinted at the track left. A foot. A single foot. Not the first child's footprint they had found, but smaller than the other. Tiny. He held his hand along side…tiny. A child…little more than a baby. Two of them then, as reported, one a few years older than the other. Kin, he guessed, for the elder one had not abandoned the younger to improve the odds of fleeing. Behind him the others held their dogs. They snapped and snarled, eager for the hunt. It was what they had been bred for and, Valar knew, they had brought to heel all manner of fell beast…and man. There was more than one kind of monster in this part of the world. But these…these were children. Children so desperate as to steal food. So hungry as to be unable to resist the urge to crack some of the eggs there and then and consume them on the spot.

The tall man stood and considered the daylight. Night came sudden and hard here. He turned back to his men, saw the questions in their eyes.

"We'll continue in the morning, early."

"Loose the dogs and we won't have to," the nearest said.

"I'll not hunt children. Not like that," he answered and eyed the baliff of the village.

"Have a lot of children running about, stealing food, here?" he cooly asked. The baliff's chin jutted forward.

"Weren't children we was chasing."

"No? Then what manner of creature made this?" he demanded, pointed at the forlorn footprint in the snow drift.

The man edged forward and, upon sighting it, spat on the nearby stoney ground, "Ent proper children, not children as belong here, in this place. Not our children."

The baliff wisely snapped his mouth shut but he needn't speak further. The rot of racial intolerance and cruelty, between Rohan and Dunland, lay as thickly over this village as any other. While the punatative raids had stopped there was a long way yet to go before any meaningful peace was restored. Or safety, particularly for children who had the misfortune of mixed parentage. The man flicked a signal at his men, all men of Gondor sent on rotation here by a king impatient for order and prosperity. Their hunger to release the dogs had vanished upon learning the nature of their quarry. They trudged back into town and their lodgings. Like as not the baliff had known from the outset. Was him that took the goodwife's complaint. The tall man of Gondor twisted back to peer at the mountains. Wherever these children were, he hoped they would be safe enough. Tonight would be another cold one.

 

[Alqualisse]

Loch knew, before he woke, that they had slept too long. The sun was too high and they had a way to go today while the sunlight remained. It was hard to wake, though. So hard to open his eyes. His body ached, muscles and joints, as he pushed himself to his feet and tottered there. They needed food, and proper water. It was why they were so tired all the time. He shook Rin so hard that her teeth rattled before her eyes opened.

"Up, Rin. Have to leave."

He pulled her until she was, at least sitting instead of lying down. She was frowning at him.

"Up, Rin! We have to go now."

Her head shook slowly, overly large on her scrawny neck, wisps of hair so pale as to be nearly white in the uncertain light floating around her face lankly. They were both filthy with dirt, detritus, blood – some of it theirs and some of it belonging to the chickens they had eaten.

"Yes," Loch shouted, losing his patience and just like a storm broke within him. He railed at her, shouting and kicking rotting hay bales, until he was dizzy and the world started to go black. He stopped, gasping like a grounded fish, felt a little hand slip into his own.

She wasn't happy, but she was on her feet at least. Loch nodded and they set off, hand in hand, slowly as Loch's dizziness receded. He angled for the narrow little brook they had forded yesterday to throw the hounds. Perhaps there may be fish he could catch, tickle from the water before his feet and hands froze.

~ ~ ~

The man from Gondor strode out of the baliff's small lean to before he lost his temper outright. He breathed deep, mountain air so cold as to sear his lungs and purge the anger from him. Waste of time. The man refused to do anything that might assist this children. He all but denounced them as mixed bloods. It was all up to them, he said, and if they ventured back to try it again the baliff said he'd deal with it his way. The man from Gondor knew what that meant. With a flick of his hand his men gathered.

"We're on our own," he started and the men scowled at the baliff's door, well aware why this was so, "We'll use the dogs, but keep them on the leash. These are children, young. Little more than babies. For all of that, they led us a merry chase. Seemed to know what they were about. For that reason, we will not rely on the dogs alone. Easy enough to throw their scent, as we well know."

"What, then?"

"We'll break into pairs, tackle each farm and barn and shack we can find in this valley. Won't get through it all in a day, and we'll need to be thorough. Boy and girl, both fair haired for what that is worth. We'll also need to be as swift as we can. Weather's closing in and it ain't nothing to be caught out in."

"Really think these young ones are out in it?"

"Stealing food is one thing, a lark. Cracking open an egg to eat it raw is quite another. What do you think?"

There was murmuring at that, not a one of them happy about the picture painted. Good men, these ones, the man from Gondor thought.

"Fast as we are, though, we won't cover the valley in one day. We should have two before the weather closes in. If we don't find them by then, Winter will. They'll not survive without proper shelter, food. Questions?"

There was silence and so he pressed on, eager to do the most they could with the light they had, "And don't forget to ask about that girl what they told us about before we left for Dunland."

There was groaning at that, "How many o' these phantom blonde children are we chasing, Cap?"

"One is too many by my count. Orders are orders. You've memorised her description, and the reward the crown is willing to pay if she is located. If you're asking about one set, won't do no harm to ask about her. And before you complain further, consider what you might make of all this grumbling if she were your kin."

From there out they swiftly paired up and set off, a hound with each pair held carefully on the leash.

~ ~ ~

If he hadn't of been so tired and hungry and gnawing on a fish, he might have heard them coming. Both of them had been sitting on the bank, backs to the way they had come like fools, chewing each on a fish. The first he knew that he had company was a heavy hand that landed like a boulder on his shoulder and plucked him up. Loch shouted, fish dropped, and this alerted Rin. She rolled down the bank and into the icy stream but there was another adult, a woman this one, who soon fetched her and brought her back, writhing like some demented, mute animal in her grip. The man who had captured him held him easily. Beyond the reach of Loch's swings, the man studied him like a dog did a bone.

"That yer sister, boy?" the man asked, eyeing her the same way. Loch didn't say a word.

"He's scared, Jeb. Won't get nuthin' from 'im that way," the woman whined.

"Don't want nuthin'…less it's me chickens wot he ate. Can you pay fer them, boy?"

Loch's throat had constricted and all he could do was stare at how the man glowered at him. This was really bad, he knew.

"Ere, boy…don't pay Jeb no mind…just 'is way, like. Tell yer sister what to settle down. I ain't gonna hurt her…but she might hurt herself if she keeps this up."

The woman's voice was kind and Loch thought she might be right about Rin.

"Set her down," Loch asked and, carefully, the woman did that just as soon as Jeb had let him go. No sooner did she reach the ground did Rin make a break for it.

Loch knew that she would. She was only doing what he had told her to do last time this happened. He pounced on his sister's back and held her tight, one eye on the man and woman who watched all of this.

"Rin…Rin… stop. You're making it worse, Rin. You hear me? Stop that!"

He wasn't sure if she did or if she simply ran out of strength. She deflated under him and Loch sprang up again and shook her shoulder. Had he killed her dead, he fearfully wondered. When she pushed his hand away, he knew she was alright.

"Right sorry about your chickens. We…we was real hungry," Loch said, turning back to the two adults that had looked on.

"Where're yer parents, boy?" the woman asked, the man simply watching with his arms crossed. There was no answer Loch knew how to give to that question but the woman read his expression. Rage, despair, grief. The girl was sitting now, arm wrapped around her brother's leg, staring at them. So quiet. With those large eyes of blue and silver and that pale hair. The woman glanced to the man at her side, nodded. The man took a deep breath and sighed.

"Don't expect yer 'ave nuthin' to pay me with fer me chickens…" he rumbled and the boy's head dropped, shame writ clearly on his half-cast face.

"Don't expect them chickens were worth much anyway, Jeb," the woman said and then crouched to better consider the girl. The boy was too old. The girl though. Yes, the girl.

"Must be hard, living out 'ere in the cold, with yer sister to care fer all on yer own," she said, dragging her eyes up to the boy's.

He nodded and the man puffed his cheeks like he was making this up as he went along for the first time.

"Reckon I see a way clear o' this, Sara," he said and, right on cue, the woman beamed hopefully up at him.

"Honest, Jeb?"

The man nodded and the woman turned back to consider Loch. He was watching them, wrapt attention. The girl started tugging on the boy's ragged tunic - made from some sort of chaff bag it seemed.

"Wanna know how, boy?" Sara asked and the boy nodded while his sister tugged harder and harder. He knocked her hand away.

"Yes," he said.

"Yes wot?" Jeb growled like a thunderhead.

"Yes please…sir?" the boy amended fast, eyes darting from the woman to the man. This, Loch was relieved to see, seemed to rectify the situation.

"Reckon we might be able to look after yer sister 'ere, till you ken work up the coin me chickens is worth. Strong lad like you, plantin' season is about ready to start. Plenty o work…and she'll be safe with us."

Loch frowned as he tried to keep up. Seemed to him like they were asking him to give them Rin till he could get work and pay back his debt. Only this weren't no goat or sow…this was his sister. He looked down at her and saw she was frightened. She shook her head at him. The man and woman watching sensed that this just might not work at all.

 

[Alqualisse]

"Don't know as I can do that, sir," the boy said.

"WHY NOT?" Jeb roared. Though the boy cowered, he did not capitulate.

"She's my sister!" he pleaded and hoped the man could see that he couldn't trade away his own family like that. She was all he had left.

The boy looked down at the girl again and Jeb glanced at Sara. She shrugged and tried one last throw. If fear would not work, the heart strings just might.

"Yer love yer sister, don't ya boy" she said softly and he nodded, "Had me a brother wot loved me like that once. Rare…rare, it is. What's yer name?"

"Loch," the boy mumbled.

"And yer sister's?"

"Rin."

"This winter's bin hard on the both of yer. Can see it, I can. Don't doubt yer tried to do what was right by Rin. Tried yer best. Didn't yer?"

"Yes," the boy replied, bottom lip quivering as he stared at his sister.

"There, see Jeb. Wot did I tell yer? Does his best, he does," the woman said to the man and turned back to Loch, "It's cos yer love Rin like wot brothers should, don't ya, Loch. Yes yer do. Thing is, Loch, it's only gonna get worse. Harder…Summer's a ways away yet...and now there's this debt wot you owe Jeb. Musta bin starvin'. Eatin' chickens raw… fish too."

She could see the tears start down his face, relatively cleaner tracks through the dirt there. Beside her, Jeb was getting impatient.

"Way I see it, Loch, yer have two choices. There's always choices, right?"

The boy nodded, unable to talk.

"Yer kin continue on like yer 'ave bin. Who knows, yer might make it, if yer lucky, if yer can stand Jeb takin' his debt from yer hide - wot is Jeb's due, now. Or yer kin do what's best fer Rin there. She's just a baby, Loch, too much fer you to care fer on yer own. Let Jeb and me look after her for a bit, just a bit…Be easier for yer both that way...safer too. Easier for you to find what work you might, easier on 'er too. Safe, warm, fed…clean clothes."

When the boy lifted his wet brown eyes to hers, Sara knew she had won. It was all a matter of promises now and Jeb and her were real good at promises. Promises don't cost nothing but words.

Leaving Rin there, on the bank of that stream was close to the hardest thing he had ever done. Almost as hard as carrying her past Ma and all that blood. She had clung to him, eyes bright with tears that she could not shed, mutely frantic. Loch thought Rin just might pull his arm right off, she held on that tight. In the end, Sara had to pull Rin off him. He swore an oath, another one, that he'd come back for her just as soon as he had the coin. It wasn't forever, he told her. He would be back. And then he turned and walked away.

 

[Alqualisse]

"There now, pretty baby. Such a pretty little thing, yer are."

No matter how Sara crooned though, Rin struggled vainly as her brother walked further and further away. She saw him turn, once, and hope surged that he might have changed his mind. Sometimes Loch did that, when he had a better idea. Sometimes. But it was not to be. He did not come back for her. He was going. She screwed her eyes shut and beat her fists on the arms that held her like tree roots. They did not give way.

"Din't 'ave time fer this afore this started and 'ave even less now," the big man growled. Sara plucked Rin up no matter how she struggled and she was so tired and it hurt everywhere. Eventually she just hung there and hoped the woman might think her dead. That worked, sometimes. She stared at the ground that passed by but Sara did not set her down until they had reached a house that smelt very bad. Worse even than the barn. The man stayed outside and for that Rin was relieved though she did not know why. Inside, the woman called Sara started to sing. It was not a pleasant sound. Rin did not like it.

First thing Sara did was put her in a tub with water and bubbles. The water stung her eyes. Rin immediately decided to clamber out, nearly upending the tub. Sara became cross then. She pulled her back and shoved her under the water until Rin thought her lungs would burst. She stopped struggling then and Sara let her up again. Rin sucked in a gasping breath and, when the water cleared her ears, discovered that Sara was singing again. She seized Rin's shoulders and forcibly held Rin there in the stinging water. Soon all the bubbles went away and the water was a nasty brown colour. Sara clucked her tongue, fished Rin out of the tub. Rin thought it was all done, and while Sara was busy she angled towards the door. She might have no clothes and be wet all over like a fish, but it weren't the first time.

"Oh no, pretty baby," the woman sang, plucking her up again just as she reached the door.

"Can't 'ave yer goin' out there. Not yet. Can't have ole Jeb seein' yer. Yer not ready."

There was another tub of stinging water, Rin realised just as she was plunged back into it. By the time this was finished, three tubs later, Rin had learnt something important. Sara's mood changed fast. Sunny one moment, frightening the next and then snapping back. Rin didn't understand why. Only that it happened, and it frightened her. She did not know why. Only that it did. Something was very wrong here. Bad. Very bad. Sara towelled her down so hard that Rin thought all her skin would come right off, like fish scales did, and all her hair would fall out. Sara straightened, damp towel over one arm, and studied her.

"Better, pretty baby…more to do yet, afore yer ready."

Rin did not know what Sara meant by ready, but she sensed it was not something she would like very much.

"No so sad, pretty penny. Smile. Smile for Sara now. SMILE!"

And Rin did, baring her teeth, because she was frightened of what might happen if she did not. Sara smiled back at her, though her eyes remained flat and wrong.

"Better," Sara declared and Rin kept smiling even though her cheeks were now starting to ache.

"Yer know yer words?" she asked and Rin nodded, still smiling.

"But yer don't talk none?" and Rin shook her head. Sara seemed thoughtful at that and so Rin smiled harder. It worked. Sara's mood cleared on the brighter side and she turned away for something she called the next part.

So it went through the day…all manner of strange things, many of them uncomfortable or outright painful till at last Sara placed her in a chair at the table and told her to remain. In those hours, Rin had seen sunny Sara and scary Sara time and again. Frightened near out of her wits and lonely for her brother, Rin didn't want to see scary Sara any more that day. So she sat and stared at the table just like scary Sara had told her to. It's top was crowded with things, more than even the floor was. Rin sat still, just like scary Sara said, no matter how the dress scratched and itched. It smelt funny, pinched her too tight. Sunny Sara had burnt her only other clothes so it was this or nothing, and besides Rin guessed that scary Sara would come if she took it off. When Jeb threw the door open Rin was so started she toppled out of the chair and onto the floor. Realising what she had done, and that Scary Sara would not be far behind, she curled up into a ball as best as she could in the scratchy dress, arms over her head and forehead on her knees.

There was silence, and then Jeb began to laugh. The sound boomed like thunder. At that, Scary Sara became Sunny Sara and she tugged Rin up, tucked her back into her seat and smoothed her hair out.

"There, now…see 'ow shiny she is, Jeb? Like a new penny, init?"

"Reckon so," Jeb replied, his amusement evaporating as the expression of terror faded into normal fear on the girl's face. He settled his bulk into a chair that creaked under his weight and Rin hung onto her chair seat as hard as she could so that she did not fall out again, no matter what happened next.

A simple sweep of his arm sent the things on the table crashing to the floor. The loud sudden sounds make her flinch but she kept her seat this time. She could see him, just over the table.

"Better," he grunted, eyeing her hard, "Kin see 'er, now. Best keep an eye on 'er, Sara. She'll run, she will. I kin tell."

"Bin watchin' 'er, Jeb. All day long, ent I, pretty baby?"

Rin nodded solemnly and Sara continued, sidling up to stroke Rin's hair in a way that made her want to run - "Sides, Jeb, she loves me now, don't yer, pretty baby."

Sara was stroking her hair and pressing her head against her meaty hip so hard that Rin could not have nodded even if she wanted to.

"She don't say much," Jeb said, staring at her still.

"Understands aright, but don't speak no word. Didn't even squeak when she fell outta 'er chair jist then."

Sara released Rin and turned back to the hearth. She soon set down a plate of what smelt like food in front of Jeb, stepped back and crossed her arms. Rin's stomach growled loudly.

"That yer belly, girl?" he grunted at her, tearing bread apart with his large hands, "Well?"

Rin nodded, eyes locked on the bread now. It wasn't even mouldy!

"She bin good fer yer today, Sara? Behaved 'erself proper like?"

"Near enough, I reckon, for 'er first day," Sara replied, watching the way the child's eyes tracked the bread as if it were gold.

"Then 'ere, girl," the man said and tossed some bread that sailed straight past Rin and onto the floor behind her chair.

Rin was nearly out of her chair before she realised. Only her grip kept her in her seat. She tore her eyes from the floor to Sara, who was watching her like a snake, ready to strike.

"Clever baby!" she said, clapping, smiling brightly.

"Wot yer waitin' fer, girl? Best git that there bread afore the rats do," Jeb shouted and with that, Rin was out of her chair and onto the bread like a jackal.

She stuffed it all into her mouth at once just like Loch had taught her to, though it nearly choked her and made her eyes water. Jeb thought this funny and threw her more bread. Rin happily sat on the floor, cramming bread into her mouth as the sun slid from the sky. There were other things on Jeb's plate, things he did not share, but the bread was enough. The bread was perfect. Only a little bit tough. Only better she had was the bread Mama made and that thought made her sad again.

"Smile, pretty baby!" Sara commanded and sure enough, the child smiled, crumbs on her chin. Not long, Sara mused, before the girl was tamer than Jeb's favourite dog. Not long at all. Jeb seemed pleased too. So pleased that he left her alone that night. Yes, this were a good idea. It would be better this time. This one was clever and pretty. She learned fast. Sara went to sleep with a smile on her face for the first time in months, Jeb snoring in the other corner and the girl happily curled up under the table like it were a palace.

~ ~ ~

Loch knew that this was a dangerous place, but he was cold. He eyed the mean little cottage. Light gleamed from its window and, from time to time, he could see her inside as she passed the windows. The witch moved about, up to who knew what manner of evil. He had heard the talk in the village below as good as anyone else. Thing was, provided she stayed in there, he might be able to keep warm by this pool here. The air had an acrid stench to it, and the water bubbled and steamed. Out and out evil…but it was warm and he didn't have Rin to worry about or to curl up against for warmth now.

The witch wouldn't eat him anyway. Not enough meat on his bones. The snow was unable to find purchase so close to this veritable cauldron and so Loch slept on stinking, but warm ground. He slipped off to sleep straight away even though his heart ached for his sister. He had done the right thing. He had. The right thing. He would be back as soon as he could, honest. Only twenty gold crowns. Twenty wasn't much, was it? He had no one to ask how many twenty was. Way Jeb and Sara had said, twenty weren't much and adults new their numbers and letters

 

[Alqualisse]

It was early yet when a loud banging came on the door. Rin startled awake under the table, a rat skittered across the floor in panic. The banging continued on the door. It made the door rattle in its frame. They were banging on the doors, like before. Like that day. Banging, banging banging. They would break the glass next and come in and it would happen again. She needed to hide, safe and quiet and small, until they left. Rin darted into the best place she could find even as Jeb tumbled from his bed.

"Open this door, in the name of the King!" a muffled voice shouted. He sounded very angry to Rin and so she huddled down even lower.

Jeb stomped to the door and yanked it open with a snarl, "Ent no King 'ere!"

Through a gap in the piles she hid behind, Rin peered at the door. A man stood on the other side. She could see his big boots and the end of a sword. A monster. One of those monsters. Terror clenched her every muscle and her mouth opened in a silent, long scream heard only in her head. It was happening again!

The monster asked questions but Jeb filled the doorway with his bulk. Rin knew it would not be enough. Nothing could hold the monsters back. Not even Da or Ma. They would break the windows soon. It was happening again. Rin squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her head to the rough floorboards. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop! Make it stop! Make itstopmakeitstopmakeitstopstopstopstop…

"You are certain," the man of Gondor pressed, ill liking the way the brute's eyes shifted about.

"Reckon I know wot's on me farm better than you," the brute scoffed.

The man from Gondor looked at his companion, who held a dog. The man shook his head. No scent of the children here.

"What, then of a girl, on her own….pale hair like….moonlight I suppose. Eyes blue and grey both. Only five or six, she'd be."

"Like I said afore, ent no vagabonds on me farm!"

"Aye…as you said…if you see them, the boy and girl, or the girl, send word down to the village. Worth your time and then some, particularly for the girl."

At the mention of profit, something truly horrid gleamed in the man's eyes a moment. It was gone in an instant and he was back to staring flatly. With nothing further to discuss then, the two men of Gondor and their dog withdrew. At the sound of their departure, Sara emerged.

"They want money for 'er…maybe….maybe more than wot we might-"

Jeb whirled about, fist raised to knock Sara hard back into the table.

"I 'eard wot they said, woman," he roared and she had the sense to keep her eyes lowered.

"Best find the brat," he growled and this made Sara flinch.

"Wot?"

"She ent here! Do yer SEE HER! FIND HER! OR I'LL TAKE WOT YER COST ME FROM YER HIDE!"

"But I locked-" Sara pleaded and Rin felt a warm puddle form around her knees when Jeb roared even louder than before.

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop….​

When Sara remained silent, eyes lowered, for long enough, Jeb turned back to peer out the door.

"Find her, or I'll find you," he snarled and with that was gone, door slamming after him, as he set out to make sure those snooping King's men were off his property proper.

For a while, Sara wept but this was not the first of Jeb's storms that she weathered and she soon calmed. Sara sat at the table, dabbing at her bleeding nose and thought. She had locked every window and door. Unless the girl had climbed the chimney, she had to be in here somewhere. She just had to look. That was all. Just look. Soon enough, once she had pawed through enough, she found the child. She was a ball in a corner, hiding behind the worst of the mess. Sara picked the child up and noticed, as she did, a pungent odour.

"Wot did you DO?" Sara's voice rose swiftly to a savage shriek and she began she shaking the girl like a doll, "ARE YER AN ANIMAL?"

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop​

 

[Alqualisse]

When Jeb returned, the cottage was filled with quiet, repetitive singing. Off key. Always off key. He saw Sara was at the table, scrubbing at her hands, rocking back and forth as she sang her stupid song about pretty babies.

"Where's the girl," he growled and she stopped singing stopped but scrubbing.

Sara lifted her head and he saw then that her eyes were glazed.

"Safe," she said, singing that word over and over. The urge to crack her head on the table nearly overwhelmed him.

"Wot did you do?"

"Made 'er safe, like yer tole me, Jeb. Safe. Safe. Safe. Pretty baby is safe."

Sara lowered her head, continuing to scrub at her hands. Her tunic was splotched with new stains, dark ones.

"WOT DID YOU DO?" Jeb roared at her, impotent rage swelling.

"Safe, safe. Baby safe now."

He cast about the hovel she kept in a constant state of ruin for him and found little that pleased him. More splotches, no girl. No body. With a snarl, he was back out the door for the rear yard. Last time Sara had thrown the child's body to the dogs. Fool woman was so mad she couldn't even figure out that it were better to throw the remains to the pigs. Only reason he kept the stinking beasts. Sure enough, he found the girl there with the dogs. Not dead though. She sat in their midst, staring blankly ahead. Not so pretty any more, he saw, but alive. That was what important. She was worth nothing to him dead. The dogs would keep her warm enough, and it were better out here than in there with him and Sara. Especially tonight. He had work to do tonight. Jeb cracked his knuckles and turned back for the cottage. Lots of work to do tonight. When the screams began the dogs started to howl mournfully around Rin.

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop​

The storm came that night, howling and biting and covering the land in a blanket of ice and death. The dogs huddled close, whimpering, scratching, and snarling. Anything for a warmer, safer place.

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop​

 

[Alqualisse]

Loch woke by that warm, stinking pool of hot water to a world that seemed fashioned of diamonds. Everything glittered, encased in ice, but the pool remained as unnaturally hot as ever. Beautiful though it was, Loch's heart turned to ashes in his chest. It would be weeks now, before the planting begun. So long, too long. He sat, dejected, for some while before he noticed a bundle nearby. A red cloth had been wrapped around something. Vivid, bright, promising red. Perilous, warning, deadly red. He did not know what it was, who it belonged to or where it had come from. Ultimately his curiosity won out and he edged closer to prod at it. When nothing terrible happened, he warily peeled back the red cloth to find a wooden box. It gleamed, a rich vibrant hue. The box was as big as his head. Best of all, it was unlocked!

He cracked the lid to find there was food! Food! Meat, bread, cheese, some sort of vegetable he had never seen before. Food! Heart thudding he slammed the lid shut and scuttled back. It was a trap. Surely. A trap. The witch! Loch was torn between wisdom and his belly. It was an uneven contest and, once he had convinced himself that the witch would not spring out of thin air, he edged back and cracked open the lid. The food was still there and that was that. Loch fell onto it, ravenous as a wolf, cramming as much as he could into his mouth as fast as he could. Longer it took you to eat, the more likely it would be that you would be caught. Another lesson he had learnt early on. When at last the food was all gone, he saw something gleamed in the morning light. Coins…gold crowns! More than one. He did not know the word for the number he held in his hand. More than one and two. Immediately his mind flew to his sister. Is what he held close to twenty? He would take them straight away, pay his debt or at least start to if twenty was more than he had in his hands.

Loch scooped up the coins and bounded away. From her window, the woman everyone denounced as a witch grinned as the boy shot into the next snow drift like an arrow. Such a determined boy. The old woman gathered her stick and cloak and ventured out to the hot spring where the boy had been sheltering the past two nights. She could see the depression his scrawny body made on the packed earth beneath the slight rocky overhang. Canny boy too, prepared to put up with a little mineral laden air for warmth and survival. The wooden box with it's fine charcol liner kept the air from spoiling the food she had set within it. It was all gone, food and coins. Would he venture back, she wondered. She hoped he might. With warmth, food and now gold available at this pool, it seemed likely. The world was a vicious place for the vulnerable. She collected up the box and set back for her cottage.

~ ~ ~


The storm made the going treacherous and difficult but Loch was determined and he reached the farm by midday. Habit made him cautious but everything was still, as if frozen in time as well as ice. Not a sound. No movement. He continued on, heart expanding as he drew near to the cottage. Closer, he could hear pigs snuffling, eating, their particular reek on the air. No smoke came from the chimney though. Were they out? Where had they taken her, he wondered. Would they come back? The curtains were drawn. Something made Loch hesitate and he did not knock on the door. The hair on his arms stood on end and his heart was pounding now. Not from running, or the excitement of getting Rin back for surely he had twenty gold crowns. Something else sped his heart and so he circled around the cottage to the yard behind it.

It was a muddy expanse that had frozen everywhere in the storm like everywhere else, except for where the dogs had churned it all up. There were many dogs, gaunt and miserable creatures all chained to a peg in the muck as best Loch could guess.. They jostled about restlessly at his appearance by the corner of the cottage, chains rattling at their collars, but they did not bark. It was more than passing strange, he thought, and he could see no one in the yard. He gaze travelled back to the dogs, their flat eyes and matted coats. No few of them were belly down in the mud, whining piteously despite the fact that he had made no advance towards them. Then, he saw something that was not a dog at all and, heedless of the strange dogs, he leapt forward.

Next thing Loch knew, he was running. Running as fast as he might. A chain rattled on the ground after him, skipping and jarring like a great metal snake. It was attached to Rin's neck. His sister was in his arms staring, no recognition, like she was frozen. He did not know what had happened. She was beaten black and blue, covered in mud and filth, with a chain around her neck like the dogs. He did not know what to do. All he knew is that it was all his fault. While he had slept warm and safe, and eaten food that seemed to come from thin air, he had abandoned his sister to bad people. Bad people who said nice things but lied. Smiled, but lied. Did bad things. His fault. It was his fault!

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop​

 

[Alqualisse]

The twilight had nearly subsided into another chilly night when the old woman heard a strange sound, oddly metallic. She peered out her window to see the boy had returned. He was scurrying towards the hot spring. His movements had a panicked, jerky quality to them but she could mark little else aside from that queer sound.The pool was too far and the hour too late and her eyes too old. She would have to go out. She snatched her stick and a stouter cloak, one fit for the bitter night.

Loch set his sister down. She did not move, nor twitch nor blink. He shook her, shouted at, screamed her name. She did not respond. The chain, then. The chain had to go. He set his hands to that and tugged at the links. It would not give. He tugged again, teeth gritted. No change. He started to wonder if he might need to move her closer…even into the hot, smelly water…to revive her. He feared with all his being that she would die if he did not so something.

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop​

The old woman could hear the boy's panic and she took care not to misstep and startle him. By the time she reached the spring, the boy was moments away from dropping a smaller child into the water itself.

"NO!" she called sternly, her voice echoing off the small rock overhang he had been sleeping under. The boy froze, terror etched on his young features.

The witch, Loch's despair wailed. The witch had come! She would kill them both. Eat them. Just like they said! He shuffled back, tightening his grip on Rin as the crone emerged into view. The moon was full and the sky cloudless. Her crinkled face was one of shifting shadow in the fragile light. A veritable demon!

"Stay back," he demanded, not really thinking she would. He had nothing else to fight her with. The witch raised her hand, the other clutching a knobbled, twisted walking stick. A plan began to hatch in his mind.

"Very well, child. Do not go into the water. I will stay here if you will agree not to touch it."

"Why?" Loch asked, stalling for time as he wondered how quickly he could dart across and knock the crone's walking stick out from under her.

"Because it'll be the death of you, boy," the witch said tersely.

"How do I know it's not a trick?"

"You don't. Want me to stay where I am then you'll heed my terms."

The boy had no questions for that and she was relieved that he made no further advance to the spring's edge. The waters were hot enough to scour flesh from bone.

"Who do you have there?" she asked him after a moment's silence, "A friend?"

The boy did not answer, not willing to be drawn on. Whoever the child was the boy clutched, he or she was important to him.

"Is your friend hurt?"

"Why do you want to know?" Loch shouted back, angry with the questions and his inability to figure out a way from the death trap he had fled into.

"Not answering no more questions," he said stubbornly, lifting his chin, "So why don't you just kill us or go away!"

The old woman smiled in the darkness. Just like her grandson.

"Kill you, why would I want to do that?"

"So you can eat us," the boy said belligerently.

The old woman cackled at that. The villagers, it seemed, had been at it again. Long winters made for idle hands and vicious tongues.

"You? There's more substance to be found on a sparrow's leg than you, right now, I'd wager. Who's your friend? And, more the point, why is your friend wearing a chain?"

"None your business. You leave her be."

"Thought you were done with answering my questions, lad," she said, continuing her careful shuffle forward, moving so slowly in the dark that the child did not mark it.

"Girl eh? Your sister, I'd wager."

"YOU LEAVE HER BE!" he shouted at her, confirming her guess.

The old woman ceased her approach and settled down. The boy, meanwhile, clutched at his sister and stared at her. Odds were, she mused, he'd attempt to outstare a dragon when it came to his sister. Where their parents were she did not know. But the girl was in trouble. His sister was unnaturally still. If she wasn't dead, she was close to it.

"Well now, here we are then. A pretty pickle, if I do say so myself," the old woman said a while later.

"Go away then, if you want," the boy said.

"I could, I suppose, I could. But I suspect you need help more than you need privacy right now."

"Stay away, witch."

Old woman sighed, realising that attempting to talk the boy around was doomed and time was awasting. She stamped her stick on the ground, "Very well, lad."

She turned away with every intention of swinging back and barrelling the boy over, sister and all onto the soft, warm packed earth behind them. Apparently, she was not the only one with guile. The boy charged her like a bull, knocking her walking stick away as he did. She lost her balance and tumbled to the warm soil with a thud. Old though she was, she was faster than Loch had imagined. Loch watched in dismay as the witch seemed to spring back to her feet. On the other side of the witch, lying stiff and still, was his sister. The witch realised this and cackled with delight. To his horror, she edged towards Rin, still cackling. And so, with nothing else, he charged again. Then everything went black.

"Fool boy," the old woman muttered, turning attention to the boy's sister.

"Alive then. Well, nothing else for it. In you come."

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop​

 

[Alqualisse]

The fist thing Loch noticed was that it was warm but it did not smell. No, he amended, it did not stink but there was a distinctive scent to the air. Like…plants, or something. He peeled open his eyes and found himself staring at a ceiling. There were rough wooden shelves that ran all the way up the wall, filled with bottles of things. He could hear muttering nearby. The witch! Loch sat up with such a start that he cracked his head on the lowest shelf. He rebounded with a groan.

"Fool boy," the old woman muttered with a shake of her head, "Not finished yet, are we girl? Not yet, no."

When Loch woke again it was daylight. It remained warm and the air smelled of plants. This time he heard the crackle of the fire but no muttering. Instead, there was a strange buzzing noise. With greater care this time, a bump on his head his badge of wisdom, Loch lifted his head from the pillow to peer about the cottage. Sure enough, the buzzing came from the witch. She was slumped in a chair that she had pushed against the only door, snoring hard, mouth gaping. Maybe a window, he thought, as soon as he found Rin.

He looked around the cottage. It was small, only one room sectioned by a curtain down the other end. Big enough for the bed he occupied, a table, a hearth and whatever was behind the section that had been curtained off with what appeared to be a faded, patched blanket mended many times over. He could not see Rin anywhere and he fearfully looked at the large pot that hung over the hearth's glowing coals from a rail. No, he would look everywhere before he gave her up as dead…and eaten by the witch. With an eye on the crone, he slipped his feet to the floor and padded towards the curtain on the far side of the room. Every spare nook and cranny was occupied with books or paper or bottles of goodness knew what. He shuddered and peered around the curtain. There, on a bed, was Rin. Her eyes were closed, and the blankets pulled around her moved steadily with her breathing. The chain was gone too. Alive. Alive! Loch was nearly delirious with relief. Not eaten yet but alive. All the mud was gone. She was clean…and in the daylight he could see just how severely she had been beaten. A guttural moan was pulled from him.

"Let her be boy. She needs rest," the witch said and Loch whirled in alarm, caught his feet in the curtain and came crashing down with it in a messy tangle. Bits of paper drifted about, disturbed from their stacks by this sudden excitement. The witch shook her head at him, but seemed to smile all the same. The crash did not wake Rin.

"What have you done to her?"

"She sleeps boy. No more. She'll wake when she's good a ready, not a whit before no matter the racket you make."

Without the shadows and night, her face seemed…softer than he remembered. He peered up at her. She looked like a person. Was this how witches were supposed to look?

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously and she expelled a sharp sigh of frustration. Belligerent boys, this one was maybe nine summers, were all the same in her experience. It came down to tone of voice.

"Do you answer every question with a question, boy? Have you no respect for your elders?"

"Loch," he mumbled.

"What sort of name is that, then?"

"Mine," he answered sullenly and then, "It's Lochared, proper."

"On your feet then, Lochared Proper, and let's get some food into you before you demolish my only home."

Loch opened his mouth to correct the witch but, at the mention of food, his stomach answered for him with a loud gurgle. The witch untangled him from her curtain and bid him to put it up again while she prepared them both something to eat. Hungry, he stared at the stew she set before him in a large steaming bowl as if it were poison.

"Eat, boy! Eat!"

"What's in it?"

"Not people, if that's what you're wondering," the witch said with a cackle and so, Loch, unable to resist the watering of his mouth, lifted the wooden spoon she had set out with the bowl and sampled the stew. Soon enough, he was swooping it into his mouth, answering questions without dissembling to ensure he was not delayed in obtaining his next mouthful of stew.

The old woman learnt much. The younger girl's name was Rosmarin, or Rin for short. Rin didn't speak. Not a sound, but she could, her brother said, if she wanted to because she had before. And, despite the fact that they did not at all appear to be related, Loch was adamant, fiercely so, on that score. As for their parents, well nothing seemed to make the lad seal up faster than a question about his parents. When he reached the bottom of the bowl and scraped all the vegetable and broth out and ate all of the bread on the table, he fixed large brown eyes on her.

"Will she get better?"

"With time, proper care… she will. Who did this, Loch? How did it happen?"

When Sara and Jeb's name tumbled out of his mouth with the rest of his story, the old woman was not surprised. Bone deep angry. Horrified. Not surprised.

"Time something was done about those two," she darkly muttered and Loch's eyes grew wide.

"You going to…witch them for what they did?"

The old woman shook her head wearily, "I'm no more a witch than you can fly. Can you fly, boy?"

The boy shook his head, considering his next question.

"You really going to help my sister, then? Honest?"

"Honest, Lochared. Now I've work to do so you run along, keep out of my way and come when I call. Be good for Rin to hear your voice, I think."

"Even while she's sleeping?"

"Especially then. Now scat, boy!"

Loch darted out the door and into the snow. Inside, the old woman was moving about, clearing the table. He watched her push the curtain aside. The old woman was going to help. It would be alright now. He knew it would.

 

[Alqualisse]

It would take many weeks for Rin to start the road to recovery. Months, in fact, as Spring waxed into summer. Just as the old woman had said, Rin got better. She didn't talk though. For her part, the old woman revelled in the company the two children presented. The boy was bright, cheerful when not fighting for his life like a cornered bear. While quiet, wrapped in a deep shock that the old woman could not penetrate, his younger sister was sharper still. She followed her about, silently observing with her eyes, sometimes silver, sometimes blue. Though young, her mind was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. Too young to read, though the old woman made a start on that with both of them. She would happily sort plants, an unusual focus and accuracy to her work. Sometimes, the girl would clutch at her skirt and lean in. Provided that the old woman made no effort to hold her there, she'd stay like that for a long while, eyes closed. It was the sweetest, saddest thing the woman remembered seeing. Only person the girl allowed to hold her was her brother. The pair would spend hours together, communicating in a fashion that only they seemed to understand, games, tricks, contests. Most times Loch would win, being older and faster. But sometimes the old woman saw the lad letting his sister win the games they played with each other. Her cottage and garden was filled with the energy of youth that season. Just as it had been before, with her grandson and before him, her daughter. The old woman let herself begin to wonder what it might be like if the children stayed each night she tucked them into their beds.

~ ~ ~

As midsummer approached, the woman knew there was nothing else for it but to venture into the hotbed of lies and rumours that passed as a village. While there, she'd ask about after Jeb and Sara. Best to get all the facts before she made an accusation. Especially her. Her errands took most of the day and it was late afternoon by the time she returned. Smoke rose from the chimney. Loch was already inside, no doubt sniffing around the hearth after dinner as per usual. She cracked the door expecting to see Rin pouring over books she could not yet read, fascinated by the drawings, or frowning at the paper as she tried to make the letters for the words she was learning. Her little hands were not yet strong enough to hold the brush steady, but that did not stop the girl from trying, tongue stuck out as she concentrated so fiercely.

Instead, the cottage was clean, everything in order, and devoid of both children. On the table sat a small posy of flowers, three gold crowns and a piece of paper. The old woman set down her basket knowing already that they had gone, scattered to the horizon. The cottage was suddenly too quiet, too large. She swept the coins aside and picked up the paper. There, in shaking and uncertain strokes was a simple word. Rin's first written word, the old woman thought. First word in years.

It read: thankyu.

Below were two letters, these more confident and firm. There was an L made by Loch and an R made by Rin.

The crowns were the ones she had left for Loch, months ago now, in that charcoal lined box. She knew them from the notch she makes on each coin. By the time the King's man knocked on the door, her tears were done.

"Too late," she said sadly when he pushed the door open and saw her sitting at the table, "They've run again. But they were here, see?"

She passed him the paper.

"There's more gold in her hair now than when she was younger, still pale though. Pale as sunlight on snow. Make sure they know that else they'll never find her."

The man sighed and placed the paper on the table. It proved nothing. Another dead end. He took his leave with as much courtesy as possible and returned.

"Nothing," he reported upon arrival.