((written in thought to my friend Galvathalion.
I do love the talks with you about every day's complicated issues! <3))
South-Lands of the Kingdom of Dale,
Late Summer T.A. 3015
Matuk wandered along the green shores of the river Running and cursed like he never did before in his life as a monk. The task he was given by the council of his order, even though they said it would come from Ilúvatar himself, put him before a number of problems. How was he supposed to dispatch the noble? He was no warrior, he was a bad liar and he hated intrigues utterly.
To kill a man for conspiracing with the Easterlings and bringing all of Dale into danger, he could maybe settle in his conscience if he would have been doubtless - but the monk was everything else but doubtless.
Two versions of what had happened were known and the one was just as likely to him as the other. Secretly he hoped for a sign of Ilúvatar but also the god restrained himself with clues.
He closed in on the ship Iceflake with which he had made most of his travel into direction Lake-Town. A real plan however he did not yet think about.
Matuk stopped in the shadow of an old oak and looked over to the swimming vessel on which the cargo was being unloaded.
The river-skipper made, unfortunately for him, stop on every all so small station to let passengers come aboard or to let some leave and to see after the freight. And the Iceflake took everything with it what one could transport on such a small ship, wood, corn, ore, coal, cattle and people. The monk would have to continue his journey soon enough on the back of a donkey, for the river Running was not flowing east to Lake-Town.
A figure that was just entering the ship with a heavy looking load on her back caught his attention.
By the pattern did the loam-brown, ankle long robe look quite similar to his own, but the embroidered linen stole, that the unknown carried over his shoulder was not fitting to anything Matuk had ever seen before. As much as he tried to remember, no deity and no order would come to his mind that would use these colors and symbols.
Interested he headed straight for the figure, whose face was hidden beneath a hood, until he stood directly behind the unknown person.
"Ilúvatar with you", he greeted and awaited full of excitement a reaction.
The figure turned around and Matuk looked into the penetrating, silver grey eyes of a woman. Her skin was of a sand colored beige, white-golden shimmering hair could be spotted beneath the hood and reminded the monk of liquid gold and silver.
"Manwë, the lord of the wind and knowledge, may he guide thee on true paths", she replied after a short moment.
Fascinated saw Matuk on the hair and the skin, until he realized that he was starring quite obviously.
"Forgive a servant of Ilúvatar his speechlessness and his impoliteness", he apologized and became red. "My name is brother Matuk from the Order of Ilúvatar."
"I know to whom thou answerest. Else thou wouldst not have greeted me as thou hast." She smiled and the monk saw that she did not focus him, then the leaf-shaped ears. Not only was this woman blind, the woman was an elf! "My kin is quite versed about the ways that ye of mankind choose to worship the deities of our world with." She pulled back her hood, placed the right on the height of her heart on the chest and offered the still surprised Matuk her left. "I am called Ælbdís, servant to Manwë, Lord of the wind and knowledge. I am from the north and come in peace."
Matuk, who had caught himself again, shook the offered hand. "So that's why the for Dale so strange outfit. What are you doing so far away from your home?"
"I am on my way to spread the teachings of Manwë." The woman placed her belongings unto the landing stage, ready for a longer exchange of words that she had provoked with her own.
The expression of the monk's face changed from curiosity into latent hostility. "You want what?"
"I want to travel up the river Running and begin to remind the people of Manwë", she repeated friendly. "Dost thou object to that?"
Of course he had something against that, but he did not want to sink into an argument about religion on the landing stage. At least not until he knew more about her and her teachings.
"Oh, no. In the contrary, you definitely have to tell me more about Manwë. A priestess of the elves I have never seen before, and I wager, such an opportunity I do not get any day."
The skipper came back from the small station and walked into their direction.
"My passengers have already been acquainted, then I won't have to do it. But I have to tell you that our stop is being stretched for a while. If the hull is not repaired any time soon the boat will drown half the way." He threw Ælbdís an interested look.
"That means what?", Matuk sighed, who just waited that the man would grasp after the priestess' hair to see if it was real.
"That I need to find some tar and new planks", elaborated the skipper and spit into the water. "Until the evening all should be here however, so that we can continue tomorrow on a peaceful morning." He took helpfully the belongings of the priestess and brought it aboard.
"Then I propose we eat at the station's inn and I tell thee a bit about my deity", said the priestess. Matuk acceded.
The elvish woman was, and that the monk had to admit during the meal, a blessed orator, who could not only excellently portray but even as good argue. A dangerous mixture, as Matuk found.
The since long gone realm from which she came was unknown to most of the simple farmers or was merely mentioned in fairy-tales and legends. But back then it was a nomadic people to the time when there had been no man yet and the elves were the only beings that could talk. Save the gods, of course.
All that Matuk knew already for the monks had collected in the passing of the ages several pieces of literature from the mysterious elves. So he steered the conversation into direction religion to the evening.
"Ilúvatar has ordered us, to honor his memory and to help all men as far as it lies in our power", he began. He felt the redness of his cheeks that was caused from the wine.
Ælbdís nodded. "Ye have build homes for the poor as I have heard and care for the weak and ill. In life, in knowledge and in prayers do ye honor thy god, correct?"
"Yes, and what do you do to honor your god?", Matuk asked and took a sip from his wine. Maybe he drank more than was actually well for him.
"I walk the earth and am free. I live with the winds and call their names in loud and silent prayer alike."
"Ah-huh", Matuk made and looked for a moment unobtrusively at her bust. "Do you not think it dangerous to wander about alone, blind to that and to praise the name of a deity that is hardly known in this land? If enraged farmers would now try to string you up, what Ilúvatar the great may prevent, because you spoke accidently against their divine patron. What then? Will your Manwë help you, or do you die for your belief?" He leaned a bit on the table, towards her. "Some very simple men would even think you an evil sorceress if they would see your ears and would decapitate and burn you where you stand."
"Alas, I am not well versed in the legends around Dale, that is why I am thankful for thy warning, brother Matuk." She bend her slender neck, her silver eyes made a wonderful contrast to the color of her skin. "And besides, I ensure thee, I know how to defend myself."
"You have not answered my question", said Matuk. He intended to lead her into a trap. Her distracting reply he saw as uncertainty.
"Now, I think that my god would aid me. Maybe he would come himself. Would Ilúvatar do the same?"
"Of course", assured the man although he was not too sure of it himself in his heart.
"Thou liest, brother" The priestess smirked and reached for her cup of water. "Hast thou ever seen Ilúvatar?"
Matuk hesitated. The conversation took a turn that left a shallow taste in his mouth. The honor of his deity had been questioned.
"You dare to question the existence of Ilúvatar?" Matuk jumped up, the face red of anger and alcohol. "That is an unbelievable blasphemy!"
The few visitors that were with them in the station's inn turned around in surprise and looked at the angered monk. Such behavior they were not used from members of the order.
"Calm yourself, brother", Ælbdís tried to pacify. "I did not want to insult Ilúvatar, nor question his being. I just wanted to ..."
"But you did it, Priestess! You have insulted the creator. What an outrageousness!" The infuriated and drunken monk grabbed his mug and hit angrily after Ælbdís.
The woman bend back her body, wrapped her hand around Matuk's wrist and brought the badly aimed attack off course.
The force of his own assault robbed the not anymore too sober monk of his balance. He landed on the wooden table that broke down under his weight.
Ælbdís placed again her right hand unto her heart and offered her left to Matuk to get up.
"I apologize again, brother. I did not mean to insult thee."
The man in the inn had been standing up and made a circle around the elf.
"Seize her", ordered Matuk and got tedious unto his feet. "She blasphemed about Ilúvatar." Strong hand took grasp of the priestess, forced her arms unto her back and tied her up with rough rope.
"What should we do, brother?", asked the host, in whose eyes was burning the lust to murder.
"Hang her." The monk glared at her with hostility from his reddened eyes. "Her insulting words must no longer come to the ears of honest Dale-landers." He leaned forward. "Now let us see if her idol can rescue her from this situation."
"Thy mind is clouded, Matuk!", she called out desperately. "Thou art doing a great mistake!"
The laughing men pushed the priestess out towards the tall oaks, threw a rope over an extraordinary thick branch and laid the raging Ælbdís a noose around the neck. One of those who were not careful, she bit so hard into the hand, that the blood rushed forth. The canine teeth even cut through a sinew, with a howl did the man let go off her. Another hit her with the hilt of the torch into the face. "Accursed snow-demon!"
Matuk held his paining ribs that he must have injured during his fall. "Pull her up."
The rope was straightened, the feet of the woman lost their contact to the ground.
Ælbdís choked and gasped for air, while around her sounded up the victorious loud calling of the men. They rejoiced at the painful death struggle of the elf. They were so fascinated that they did not realize the newcomer who approached them.
"Halt!", called an imperious voice.
A rider in a shimmering armor led his horse into the shine of the torches. Silver reflected the polished metal the light and threw it upon the astonished faces of those who were gathered. The impressive helmet, that hid the face, with the black horse hair was covered over and over with ornaments, the shield on his side showed two crossed sword and a personal banner. At the saddle hung a collection of several weapons. In his hands lay a crossbow.
"What is going on here?"
As if being paralyzed the men starred at the rider, the hands loosened themselves from the rope and the priestess fell to the ground where she remained gasping.
Matuk recognized the banner immediately and cursed silently. In front of him stood a member of the Order of Swords, one of the three warrior orders that worshipped Oromë.
The thundering of several hooves came nearer, then suddenly more riders appeared, who stopped next to the first knight and made their crossbows ready. The men of the monk began to retreat.
"I asked what was going on!", ranted the knight and aimed with his weapon on the tavern host.
"Lord, o lord, I am not to blame", stammered the man, his ambition was as if blown away. "The monk ordered us to hang the woman, because she did blaspheme Ilúvatar. Forgive us, lord."
The crossbow now moved towards Matuk. "You have ordered an execution on my land? What is your name?"
"I am brother Matuk from the Ilúvatar order", he answered and tried not to stumble too much. "Who are you that you may threaten me?"
"I am Torfrid of Running, member of the Order of Swords, who lives alone to the honor of Oromë, fights and dies. Mine is the land on which you stand, monk and so only I decide who will be killed and who may be allowed to live."
"But she is an elf and prays wrong about Ilúvatar," Matuk interjected.
"I serve Oromë, not Ilúvatar", the knight interrupted him hard. "For me she is as good as you. I do not permit injustice, as you just wanted to execute so rashly. Besides are you not yourself from here, for to each direction there is no house of your order for at least a week of traveling. You are but a guest, monk." He nodded towards one of his men, who dismounted and walked over to Ælbdís to unbind her carefully and to help her up. "A definitely drunken guest, as it seems."
"You intend to free this sinner?", called the Ilúvatar-believer angered and made a step forward.
"She did not blasphemed my patron, but yours, do not forget that." Torfrid turned towards the other men. "And you will have to be punished for what you did." He shot the tavern-host a bolt right beneath the knee through the leg, so that the man fell with a scream. "Do not thank me for my kindness."
Matuk walked enraged towards the priestess. His intention were clearly to be read from his face.
"You forget yourself, monk", the knight warned. "Another step towards the woman and you will remain for the next weeks in my dungeons."
"If you do not want to punish her, then I must do it!" Unflustered and equipped with the bravery of the wine he continued his way. An armed man barred him the way however.
"I deem that no one yet showed you what it means to be guest and how to behave accordingly."
Torfrid pointed at the monk, who was instantly seized by the followers of the knight and bound.
"You too are invited to come to my hall. I do not think you would prefer a night in the inn with this riffraff. Your belongings I will have brought", he said to the pale Ælbdís who bowed then. A thick red welt was visible around her entire neck.
The group began to move. Ælbdís was sitting on a horse together with one of the knights, while Matuk had to walk behind her, surrounded by the men of the order.
"It seems as if Manwë did rescue me. What about thee? Didst thou fall into Ilúvatar's disfavor?", Ælbdís croaked and wiped the blood off her mouth.
Matuk just grunted, answered not. But deeply in his drunken inner he asked himself exactly that question.
