Clay sat brooding, alone, at a table in the Prancing Pony. He absently sipped his coffee and picked at the egg and pork pie served up by Barli’s new helper, a young woman from the far north who spoke the Common tongue well and with a delightful accent.
Impatience was a gnat that too often buzzed around his thoughts, but he was getting better at swatting it away, thanks to a friend that had once saved his life, helped him recover from near fatal wounds, and counseled him as would a brother.
Little Man. Cutch Crane. A second brother, really, more than just a friend.
Exasperated, Clay wondered how long it must take for the Mayor to get the copy of the report of Crane’s death. He’d bargained away a valuable favor to Tenderlarch for that. Maybe a week? Seven days would be about right, and a long seven days for his gnat to irritate him. Another pest gnawed at his thoughts: suspicion. Cutch wouldn’t just disappear like that, without a word to anyone. His heart was too big. Clay could not imagine what would have led him to do so.
“Cob”, a voice quietly said, from very nearby. Clay spun around to fix startled eyes on Teahesto, standing not more than a foot away and leaning towards him. Before Clay could reply, the Elf asked, “Where is Caladna?”
With lowered voice, Clay answered, “In the Scholar’s Hall, I would imagine.” With an uncharacteristic tug on Clay’s sleeve, Teahesto urged him to follow. Both left the Pony, with Teahesto leading through the dim, pre-dawn streets. The Elf offered no words, and Clay asked no questions sensing the urgency in Teahesto’s pace.
Caladna Greenlake sat at a scribe's table in the library foyer, old parchment with faded words spread to her left, and new parchment before her as she mimicked the old calligraphy with deft quill strokes. Her teacup steamed a fruity aroma. She looked up as she heard approaching footsteps and set the quill aside with a sigh. The last time she had been with Clay Cob and Teahesto was when they had all returned from Trestlebridge together and heard of Little Man’s death. She wondered what sad thing she might hear this day. Would it be some dreadful report about Cutch’s betrothed, Seregrían? She steeled herself as the Elf drew a chair to sit beside her and, with a glance, bade a confused looking Clay to do the same.
“We seem to be alone here?” Teahesto muttered the question. Cally nodded, a look of apprehension dawning on her face. The Elf leaned forward, drawing the others to do the same.
“Cutch Crane is not dead.” Mortal jaws dropped and Cally’s hand shot to her mouth as she gasped.
“But...”, she began, then paused to collect the thought before continuing, “the Shire shiriff came to Bree with official word!”
Teahesto nodded, “And the report contains exactly what Cutch and the Rangers intended.”
Before the Elf could continue, Clay interrupted with a stern voice. “You mean they FAKED his death!? Let all of us...including his BETROTHED believe a LIE like that!? What in Seven Stars...”
Teahesto held up a hand, beckoning them to listen. “He and those he loves are being threatened. Whoever is behind the troubles in the Wildwood had sent for an assassin to kill him and any in his bloodline, and that would include, it seems, any who are related, including his wife ... or betrothed, and any children.”
“How do you know this?”, Cally asked.
"Recall the letters we found detailing Crane’s true lineage,” Teahesto answered. “When I went to return them to his cousin, who keeps Crane’s foster parents’ belongings, he could not be found in town. I tracked him down to the Wildwood, where he had been tortured and killed. This raised my suspicions enough to bring the letters to Halros, a Ranger who watches over the Shire, and he relented to my questions. The Rangers have spies in the Wildwood who know that the leader of the Wildwood invaders had transacted with Angmar for an assassin to specifically find and kill Crane and his family, and apparently any who might know of his whereabouts, such as his cousin.”
Clay shook his head in disbelief. “Who would do this? You know Cutch. He would never have made such an enemy. How does Halros explain this?”
The elf shrugged. “When I asked him, he would only answer that he couldn’t say.”
Clay growled. “Can’t or won’t? Perhaps I should pay the skulking dolt a visit myself ....” He rose in his ire and shoved the chair back away from him.
“Please don’t do that, Cob,” Teahesto urged, “it could do more harm than good for your friend.”
Cally reached out to catch Clay’s forearm and he stopped, glancing down at her. “He’s right, Clay. If Cutch has gone to ground, let’s not stir things up until we know more.”
Clay hesitated while his eyes slowly widened with realization. “And I may have stirred things up already by asking the Mayor to get a copy of the report on Cutch’s death.”
Teahesto crossed his arms and said, “As fate would have it, I have just encountered the Watchers that were sent for the report. One of them is Caladna’s brother, Torrance. I spoke with him privately about all this and suggested he simply finish that task quickly and quietly; and ignore anything in the report that might seem suspicious. When that report gets back here to you, Cob, just let it rest. Let any waves you might have stirred dissipate. Perhaps the report might give us some clue to the identity of Cutch’s enemy, but I suspect not.”
Teahesto stood to face Clay. “I am inclined to believe the hidden enemy is somehow related to the tragedy Cutch’s father mentioned in that last letter. Recall he wrote that he would explain all when he brought the infant Cutch to his aunt and uncle for protection. That is the last word from either of Crane’s parents. They simply disappeared - and may have been done away with by the same unknown enemy that seeks Crane.
“After speaking with Seregrían, she and I think the answer to this may lay in Imladris, with Elves who have been watching over the Dúnedain of the North, which would include Cutch’s true mother and her sister, the aunt who raised him. They may also know more about Cutch’s Half-Elf father.”
Caladna interrupted, asking with worried voice, “How is Seregrían faring through all this?”
“She has been hardened, as you might expect,” Teahesto offered, “but behind her harsh words, she is visibly glad to know her betrothed yet lives. However,” he said with a wry grin, “I expect Crane will have a great deal of explaining to do if...when he gets back to her.”
Clay sighed heavily and plopped back down on the chair. It creaked mournfully under the sudden strain. “So, who is the dead man in Cutch’s grave?”
Teahesto offered a grim smile. “The assassin. Crane was able to hunt him down first. He and Halros used his corpse to create the deception.”
Clay frowned and shook his head. “Why not just come home instead of creating the lie?”
“The unknown enemy would just send another assassin,” Teahesto explained. “The deception would throw Crane’s enemy off his trail and give him time to somehow put a stop to this.”
Cally’s eyes widened. “You mean kill, don’t you? He has killed the assassin and now hunts another to kill.” Teahesto found incredulity shaping her face. She was finding it difficult to think of Cutch killing someone.
“Yes, Calandra, that is precisely what I mean,” he said.
Caladna leaned back and frowned at the Elf. “Alone?!”.
“Not alone, Caladna”, Teahesto assured. “The Rangers have spies there who are helping him. And when I return from Imladris, I will be going there myself, depending on what new information I may glean from Elrond.”
“You plan to create more diversions for Little Man? To keep his enemy’s attention focused on the Wildwood?” Clay asked, eyes narrowed. The Elf nodded and Clay smiled, large carnivorous teeth shaping a feral grin. “Collect me when you come back. I am going with you.”
Caladna rested her chin in both hands, mouth covered, frightened eyes darting between the two. Silently, she shook her head before standing up with hands moved to her hips. “And I am to just stay here and worry about you all?”
Teahesto and Clay turned to her and in unison and answered, “Yes”.
