“When I confronted Halros with these letters,” Teahesto explained, “he revealed the nature of Cutch's mission. It was twofold: first, to find the place where a powerful poison was being concocted for an enemy that is behind the troubles in Wildwood. Second, to find that same enemy who specifically wants to end Cutch and his bloodline; and it is that second part that raises so many questions. In your research of Men, when has bloodline become a reason for murder?”
“All too often, simple greed,” Seregrían mused, “or a vendetta so deep in hatred; or in some cases, regicide. Tell me, has your news any hint as to who this enemy in the shadows might be?”
“No,” Teahesto said, “but I think Halros knows more than he is willing to tell me. For when I asked him who this enemy might be, he answered, 'I cannot say.' When pressed if he could not or would not, he simply repeated the same answer.”
“Which may mean he is bound to silence...”
“I agree. But why? Could there be some secret within the Dúnedain that he cannot reveal? They are still Men, after all.”
Seregrían smiled grimly. “There's a saying: 'The chance of a secret being revealed is equal to ten times the number of people who know...''
“What if it is the Elf bloodline that is the problem to this enemy?” Teahesto said.
Seregrían paced the floor once more, her hand brushing the top of the study as she walked to and fro. “It explains things, things that were so peculiar about Cutch, but now make perfect sense. His visions, his being so drawn to me; Cutch, I deem, had the gift of foresight – a gift of the Dúnedain, magnified by Elven-blood. What else do we know of his Mortal heritage?”
“Well, his mother and aunt were both of the Dúnedain,” Teahesto said. “The father is obviously the one with the Elven heritage.”
“Yes, but how far back does it reach? Could there even possibly be a connection to any of the ancient noble houses?”
“Who can say? But how many Dúnedain ever married an Elf? And what records would there be of that?”
Seregrían began pacing once more, voicing her deductions. “When Arnor shattered, the Line of Isildur broke into three branches. The princes of Rhudaur were exterminated; the last true Prince of Cardolan perished 1,600 years ago; the line only survived in Arthedain, and that is only because of the Heirs being fostered in…”
Both Teahesto and Seregrian said together, “Imladris!”
“Of course! There would be no record of such things in Duillond - only in Imladris would that secret be known!”
“Then I am bound to the Hidden Valley,” Teahesto said firmly, “before returning to the Wildwood.”
“Yes, all the answers must be there - yours - and mine...”
“And Cutch's…”
“Yes, and what of Cutch? Do you know where he is? Have you SEEN him? Spoken with him? Will you not tell me, I beg you!”
“Not yet,” Teahesto said, “but I intend to, if I can get some more answers. You see, that last letter is the last word from either of his parents. Whatever he was being protected from killed his parents, I deem, and kept his aunt and her husband from ever revealing this truth to him. His parents obviously never returned for him. And, I think his parents’ killer might be the enemy that seeks him now.”
“His Mortal mother - and his half-Elven father,” Seregrían said, 'and what reason would the parents have to die for? We have yet to read that riddle, either. I have too many questions, and no answers to speak of - all pale in the light of new knowledge…” Seregrían 's eyes began to swim. “My bespoken Mortal... alive after all…”
“Yes, I am sure of it,” Teahesto said, “and I intend to first visit with the Elves of Imladris - then go back to Wildwood to find Cutch and help him as much as I can.”
Seregrían’s eyes turned bright - not with tears, but with a resolve born of inspiration. “Sûlpadron! Do you not see?” Teahesto shook his head, puzzled.
“Sûlpadron - Windwalker - my eagle!” Seregrían cried. “He can find Cutch! He can bear a message and we will have fresh tidings - and I can give him hope...”
“Excellent, My Lady! I am sure he would be greatly heartened by that! And yes, he may even have some clues that will fill all the gaps in our efforts.”
“Ah, but wait: if he is in hiding, or peril, the bird might reveal him to hostile eyes.” Seregrían smiled slightly, “I must think as the Black Fox might...”
“Perhaps a smaller bird,” Teahesto offered, “to get word to him without risking his exposure...”
“I can instruct Windwalker to seek out Cutch, wherever he may be,” Seregrían said. “If the bird sees him in hiding or peril, I shall tell him not to risk contact, but rather return here with tidings. If all is safe, he can bear a brief message, to ensure his safety - and Cutch can reply, just as briefly.”
“But what message would be plain to him,” Teahesto thought, “and baffling to any who might intercept it?” Seregrían’s eyes suddenly widened, and she rushed to the next chamber, returning with two small phials of liquid, one brilliant red, one deep blue.
“This was a jest between Cutch and I - only we two would know the meaning,” she explained. “These are paints - Mortals use them to adorn their bodies in a beauty rite. Cutch teased me he would use them upon me in my sleep, after he adorned himself with them in jest - how we both laughed!”
Teahesto lifted an eyebrow, tightened cheeks suppressing a grin. “Men... such curious and delightful creatures they can be!”
“No one else would know the meaning - and he would know right off…”
“And know exactly who sent it. Yes, very good.”
“I shall place them in Sûlpadron's message pouch - if the bird has the chance, the message will go through. Come! No more time shall pass!”
Seregrían nearly flew down the stairs, opened the hidden door and ran outside to the courtyard, Teahesto following in her wake. Once outside, she held her arm aloft and let loose a shrill whistle, crying out “Sûlpadron! Le dol na beth nin!” And from the high airs came a shrill cry in reply, and the majestic eagle alighted on the ground near the two Elves, Teahesto giving the eagle a respectful bow and plenty of space, watching them with wonder.
“Thou dost call, and I come, LadyRedElf,'' the eagle declared, “What is thy bidding?”
“O Windwalker,” Seregrían said, “I would have thee bear a message to a Mortal in the Wildwood, north-west of Breeland. I name him Cutch Crane - he who was - IS - betrothed to me, and is alive still.”
“These be tidings, indeed,“ Windalker said, “for I doth hear the joy in thy voice!”
“Find him, O Windwalker, and should you find him in safety and not in peril, bear these phials as my message to him.”
“Surely, a strange message; but bear them I shall for thee, LadyRedElf, for to hear thy joy alone.''
Seregrían affixed the phials to the bird's talon pouch and stroked the eagle’s head and neck affectionately. Taking a few steps back, she then cried, “Sûlpadron! Ego i Cutch Crane! GWILO!!” Teahesto was forced to duck as the mighty bird took to the skies, mounting the airs in a spiral around the black spires before streaking off eastward. Seregrían watched as the eagle vanished in the distance.
“And soon, we shall know..."
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