Radawen had almost reached her destination. She swung her bag on her shoulder and walked along the Gilrain Street towards the lights in the Wanderer’s Square. It was suppertime in the middle of the week in the old port town of Linhir at the border of Lebennin and Dor-en-Ernil. There wasn’t much traffic at the town center this late in the evening. On the other side of the street stood the Town Hall in it’s corner south of the Wanderer’s Square, surrounded by a big lawn and decorated with a bed of fragrant flowers.
Radawen had spent a week in Linhir. Most of the time she had been hiding in the small house of her childhood friend called Melleth in the southeastern part of town. Radawen and Melleth had been friends while growing up in Ost Anglebed until Melleth and her family had moved to Linhir when they had been about ten. Radawen had met Melleth again a few years ago when she had moved to Linhir to study under the local historian Tancestel. She had sought out Melleth because she trusted her and because Melleth was in no way involved in Radawen’s current life. They had not seen each other in years.
Melleth had been helpful without asking too many questions. She lived in a small brick house covered with white plaster and painted over with bright colors. Radawen had left her pony Rohiril at the stables in the Manor Square by the Belfalas Gate. She had given the stable-hand a false name because she felt very paranoid and afraid for her life.
Melleth had not wanted to know why Radawen had come and why she was acting so surreptitiously, and Radawen had not offered to tell. Melleth had been only happy to let her friend stay under her roof. Radawen had always had a wild streak, Melleth figured, but if she was involved in something illegal it was best not to ask. During the days, while Melleth was at work, Radawen sat alone in the small kitchen drinking copious amounts of tea and reading Romenstar’s blue-covered diary.
The book had been given to her by Brunil, the new Chief Healer of the Hall of the Gentle Hand after Maegon’s murder. Brunil had appeared in her room only a few moments after she had managed to stagger there herself. That morning she had woken up in Delioron’s room after he had drugged her. ”This is from Romenstar”, Brunil had said to her. ”He wants you to have it. He said you will know what to do after you have read it. He said you should be very careful because a lot of bad people are after it.”
Radawen started to feel very scared after reading the first sad, meticulously written page. Her fright grew page after page as she kept reading.
That’s how it began. In the following pages Romenstar had chronicled disoriented fragments of his and Morinehtar’s adventures in Rhûn over many centuries, the miracles and acts of kindness they had performed to help the people of Rhûn, the miracles and mysteries they had witnessed and the many lands and cities they had visited over two millennia. There were many cluttered and disorganized passages about the cities, cultures and history of Khand and sad and shocking descriptions of wars and atrocities people had inflicted upon each other. It was a story about wars and betrayals as city after city, kingdom after kingdom fell before Sauron’s might; some after heroic but futile resistance, others out of their own volition. It was a story about greed and lust for power, broken friendships and treachery, violence and bloodshed; a story about the grief of mothers when brothers turned against brothers. Finally it told how Morinehtar and Romenstar had settled into a small kingdom called Lûrmsakûn, the last Easterling kingdom that still defied the might of Sauron while the rest of the world burned with hatred and greed.
After many years of aiding the residents of Lûrmsakûn in their battle against the forces of Sauron Morinehtar and Romenstar were elected the rulers of the kingdom, known as the Blue Kings to the peoples of Lûrmsakûn and it’s neighbors. The Blue Kings were revered by the people of Lûrmsakûn, feared and hated by their enemies, but Sauron’s forces grew stronger and more numerous each passing year. During the last year Sauron had managed to amass a huge army of orcs that threatened to crush the armies of Lûrmsakûn entirely. The orcs were so numerous that it had prompted Morinehtar to pose the question: How were they fed? The landscape of Mordor was largely barren, the semi-arid lands of Núrn were not fertile enough to support such a large army, and Harad, Sauron’s biggest ally, was suffering from drought and famine. It did not seem possible that Sauron could have been able to feed such a large army of orcs that was now threatening Lûrmsakûn. A captured orc had shed some light to their questions, but the answers the orc had given seemed incredible and had only raised more questions.
Romenstar’s prose was often convoluted and hard to read. Sometimes words and whole sentences were striked out.
”The ones who are pursuing this diary to study it as they have tried to study me to know what secrets they already know I could tell them are evil. They want to destroy this book and it’s secrets just as they want to destroy me. Or maybe they want to use it as a weapon against the enemies of the forces of Sauron. All the suffering I have witnessed Our people in Rhûn…”
Finally Radawen had found out Romenstar’s secret. She was on her way to meet her old mentor Tancestel to show him the diary, but just as she had reached the Wanderer’s Square she realized something was wrong. She spotted two men in dark hooded cloaks standing by the fountain like soldiers, looking at her.
”It’s the woman!”
Radawen turned and two more cloaked and hooded men appeared from behind the shadow of the Town Hall. All four started running after her. Running for her life, Radawen bumped onto a pedestrian who almost managed to dodge her but Radawen’s shoulder made him spin and stagger along the street until he collided with one of the men running from the Town Hall. They crashed against each other and collapsed against a stall of fish sauce. The wooden stall cracked and the clay jars of fish sauce crashed and clattered on the street.
Radawen turned from a corner and spotted a small tavern. She entered the tavern, pushing through a wall of people and continuing to the back of the cramped room.
”Hey there, watch where you’re…”
Radawen pushed through the back door, past the trash barrels on a marble step and into the narrow alley between two wooden fences. She sprinted across a lawn and then another one. She could hear yelling and shouting from behind her. She turned into an alley between two buildings. It was a dead end. The shouting voices were closer now. The only way forward was over the locked gate. A jutting nail tore her dress and scratched her thigh. She jumped down into another alley and crossed the yard, dashing through a wooden gate into a small backyard.
She did not see the dog until it was running towards her. It was a big black guard dog. She swung her bag at the dog and it stopped for a moment, right in front of her. The dog snarled and barked ferociously, it’s black muzzle foaming with intense anger. Radawen saw it’s red eyeballs and long, yellow fangs.
”Get away from me, get away!” she commanded, but the dog growled angrily and attacked. Radawen slapped it on the head with her bag. The dog backed away, keeping an eye on her. She could not turn her back at the dog. She was losing time. She kept retreating, back against the fence. She groped behind her with her hand, trying to find the catch of the gate.
She found the catch and the gate opened with a squeak. She slipped through the gate and slammed it shut just as the dog leaped and threw itself against the gate, snarling and barking.
Radawen found herself in another alley. Dark silhouettes appeared on the northern end. Radawen turned and ran away from them. Air burned in her chest. Her bag felt heavy in her hand. They can’t get it now, not after everything she had been through…
She ran through the dimly lit alley flanked with stately stone houses. The sky was black, there was no moon or stars. She turned from a corner and stopped for a moment by a streetlamp. She could hear dogs barking from somewhere farther away.
Tiny streetlamps broke the darkness of the street. Radawen rushed on. There were lights in the windows, laughter, sounds of life. It was evening, but not quite bedtime yet for most people.
Just as she reached another streetlamp Radawen felt strong fingers clamping her shoulder with an iron grip. Radawen turned and recognized her pursuer. It was one of the two men who had chased her in Imloth Melui. Blind terror surged through her.
She hit the man with her fist as hard as she could. He seemed to jerk away from the punch. Blood trickled from one of his nostrils. When he wiped his nose with his left hand and saw the blood, his visage turned dark with anger and she pressed a dagger against Radawen’s side. The tip of the blade broke her skin. Blood trickled and glued her dress against her side.
Neither of them saw the shadowy figure appearing behind the man.
Suddenly the assailant sunk on his knees as if to worship Radawen, looking up at her with amazement, his face turned deathly pale, his hands clutched along his sides. Then he fell down face first on the street. Radawen looked up at Delioron standing in front of her like a ghost, holding a blood-stained dagger in his right hand. He pushed Radawen out of the light and into an alley, heading towards the port district.
”What are you…”
”Be quiet!” Delioron said softly. ”Walk quickly. You are not hurt badly. He merely scratched you.”
”He was one of the men who chased me up in Imloth Melui.”
”Yes”, said Delioron. ”And the other one is dead too.” He took Radawen by the arm and guided her towards the warehouses, trying to remain in the shadows, away from the spheres of lights of the streetlamps. For a moment Radawen heard nothing. Then she could hear sounds of footsteps from farther away. She clenched her bag against her chest and closed her eyes.
”Dammit”, Delioron whispered.
Radawen opened her eyes and saw a watchman standing in front of them. Delioron wrapped her arm over Radawen’s shoulder and pulled her against himself, lurching like a drunkard. The guard sniffed haughtily.
”You two have had way too much wine tonight”, he said. ”You’re going straight to home unless you want to sleep it off in the jail, you hear me now?”
”Shuure, bosh”, Delioron spluttered. ”We go home!”
”See that you do”, said the guard. ”I don’t want to see either of you again tonight!” He glared at them for a few more moments, then he was gone. Delioron walked Radawen around the corner into another alley.
”Do you know how we can get out of this town?” Radawen asked.
”It was easier to get in.”
They were silent for a moment. Delioron turned another corner.
”We should go to the guards…” Radawen started.
”The guards are looking for us. Everyone is looking for us now.”
”How did you find me?”
”The same way they did. I followed the trail you had left behind. It was easy.”
”Why are they after me?”
”Because you have the diary. And now you know Romenstar’s secret.”
”Yes.”
”So what is it?”
”Get stuffed!”
Delioron said nothing to that. They turned another corner into another dark alley between dilapidated residential houses and warehouses in the seedier part of town. There were no streetlamps here.
”Aranuir is dead”, Delioron said suddenly.
Radawen stared into the darkness. There were lights in some windows, casting gloomy light into the street and ominous shadows onto the walls of the warehouses. She turned to look at Delioron’s face. It was pale and impassive. His eyes were hard and directed straight in front of them.
”How?” she asked.
”He killed himself”, he said in a flat, lifeless tone. ”His son was arrested soon after in Ethir Anduin. He was a scribe in Lord Falaben’s manor house. He was charged with grand larceny. Lord Falaben was extorting Aranuir and that’s why he tried to get you to leave Romenstar alone. He wanted to protect you but he couldn’t tell you the truth to protect his son.”
”But why did he kill himself?”
”Out of stupidity”, Delioron said. His gray eyes did not look at her. ”He thought he could protect you that way and that Falaben would leave his son alone if there was no gain in it for him. He was wrong on both accounts.”
”How do you know all this?”
”He explained it in a letter to you. He must have asked whoever he gave it to to wait a few days before sliding it under the door because Falaben’s men had searched your apartment after Aranuir’s suicide and hadn’t found it. I did.”
”You searched my apartment?”
”Yes. And not for the first time.”
”You have the letter now?”
”I do. It’s one of the things I need. Romenstar’s diary is the other.”
”I don’t have it.”
”The time for lies is over, Radawen. Falaben’s retainers are here and they know you have the book. They are willing to do anything to get it, and they have the law on their side. Both of us are wanted for questioning for murder.”
It began raining. Delioron guided Radawen left from another corner, through an alley between warehouses towards the docks and the river Gilrain.
”But I don’t understand”, Radawen said. ”You represent the interests of the throne, so why aren’t you working with them?”
”What’s in the diary?”
”Get knotted! I don’t trust you.”
”You don’t have a choice in the matter”, Delioron said in a hard tone of voice. ”They have closed the gates of Linhir by now. We’re trapped here.”
Radawen thought about Aranuir and suddenly a wave of grief and deep sadness washed over her. She saw him in his mind’s eye: a big fat man with greasy sausage fingers. She could not think of him dead.
”Oh Aranuir”, she said, sobbing quietly. She wiped the tears off her eyes with the back of her hand. ”Aranuir! I didn’t trust him. I thought he had betrayed me!”
”He did”, Delioron said. ”We all betray each other. Sometimes we don’t get to live long enough to regret it.”
”Lord Falaben”, Radawen said. ”He’s to blame for Aranuir’s death, he’s to blame for all the deaths in Imloth Melui. How could he? He’s a Lord of Gondor!”
”Lords do it all the time.”
”And you saved me.”
”Not yet I haven’t.”
”You could have just taken the diary from me. Taken the diary and kill me right where you killed the other man.”
That’s right, I could have, Delioron thought. He did not say it out loud.
They reached the Long Quay and turned right, keeping near the wall of the warehouses. Heavy rain poured on them and formed puddles on the quay. Fishing ships bobbed on their moorings at the docks to their left.
”What does it say in the diary?” Delioron asked again.
”What would you say if there was nothing at all?” Radawen asked in a deflated, dull voice. ”No secrets, nothing to kill for, nothing to die for?”
”That’s the only thing that worries me.”
”What?”
”That it was all for nothing”, he said. ”That Romenstar didn’t know whatever it is they are trying to protect.”
The river Gilrain was roiling and foaming. Cold waves washed the wooden pier, bravely jutting against the currents. A wide, flat-bottomed riverboat, moored to the pilings with ropes from fore and aft, was bobbing on the waves.
”I thought you wouldn’t make it after all”, shouted a middle-aged man to Delioron from the deck of the ship. He had a red beard and a woolen beret drawn over his ears. His eyes were blue and glimmered with mirth. His nose and cheeks were red as apples. Delioron steered Radawen to the gangplank. Radawen smelled wine on the sea-captain’s breath as he came to greet them on deck.
”You’re not dressed too warmly, are you, love?” he asked Radawen, staring at her thin, tight-fitting dress with a leery eye. ”There’s blankets below deck.”
”Can we make it?” Delioron asked.
”Yeah, I suppose so. It depends on how bad the storm gets. We’ll be sailing along the coast, which might be more dangerous, but in this weather I’d rather stay close the shore.”
”Are we going to sail Anduin with this boat?” Radawen asked.
”You’re welcome to find yourself a better one, love”, the sea-captain chuckled.
Delioron and Radawen climbed down the cabin and closed the hatch above them. The cabin was damp and cramped and chilly. Delioron tossed two blankets to Radawen.
”Here”, he said. He reached for a wineskin on a shelf and took a long swig before handing it over to Radawen. ”And here. It’ll have to do for warmth tonight.”
After a few moments the small riverboat was sailing, pushing hard against the waves, shaking and bobbing from side to side. Radawen sat opposite to Delioron in the small cabin, a blanket wrapped around her. She held her bag on her lap and squeezed her fingers on the wineskin Delioron had just passed over to her.
”Who is he?” she finally asked.
”One of us”, Delioron said, staring at her. ”One who quit the game. He was happy to help me. Mostly for the coin I gave him of course. Times are tough for smugglers.”
A wave slammed violently against the side of the boat, sending Radawen and Delioron sprawling against the bulkhead.
”This is madness!” Radawen yelled, frightened. ”We’re going to die here!”
”There’s no other way out of Linhir”, Delioron said. ”Like I said, all the gates are blocked and everyone is looking for us.”
”Where are we going?”
”What’s in the diary?”
Radawen turned her head away. ”How could I ever trust you?” she whispered.
”Radawen”, Delioron said patiently. ”The time for lies and trust is over. If I have to take the book by force I will. This is about my life and yours, nothing less.”
Radawen said nothing. Slowly she reached into her bag and took out the book with blue covers.
”I have been afraid from the moment the Rangers broke into my apartment in Minas Tirith”, she said. ”It’s been like a never-ending nightmare. Don’t they ever give up? Even if I gave them the diary it wouldn’t be enough. They would still kill me. And you! You play the same game as they do!”
Delioron waited quietly.
”Falaben”, Radawen said. ”Falaben killed all those people and forced poor Aranuir to kill himself. I would kill him myself if I could get a hold of him. Do you see how I’m becoming like you? Everything is so dirty and messy.”
Delioron sipped the wine from the wineskin but said nothing. Radawen opened the diary and started reading out loud:
”’Morinehtar said he could not believe it. We decided that night that one of us had to go west, to see how things had changed. But one of us had to stay, for the people of Lûrmsakûn needed someone to lead them through the desperate days. The final attack could come at any time, the last days of the kingdom were at hand. So we decided that I will go and he will stay, though it pains us to be apart of each other. There were so many questions that needed answers. Had the west fallen? If Gondor had fallen before Sauron’s might there would not be much point in continuing the resistance. We could just as well leave everything behind, take as many people with us as possible and go east, as far east as we can go until we find the eastern shore. Perhaps it would take a few more years for Sauron’s hand to reach that far…”
Radawen looked up at Delioron who remained silent, his ponderous gray eyes fixed keenly on Radawen’s face. She took a sip of wine from the wineskin, leafed through a few pages and continued reading:
”Those who are after this diary don’t understand the value of humanity and compassion. Not Martun, Saruman’s spy, and not the Rangers, the so-called protectors of Gondor. Does not Maegon realize that I know he’s keeping an eye on me at the behest of the Rangers? None of them would want to know anything about the pain of the people of Khand of course. They would not want to hear about the dead children or the wars, the destroyed villages, the slain children and humans degraded into animals. Would they want to hear about newborns drowned into rivers to shut them up so that others might be spared?’”
Radawen looked up. The boat was creaking and squealing on the stormy sea. Radawen’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Delioron. Did he understand?
Delioron said nothing.
”’The ones who are pursuing this diary to study it as they have tried to study me to know what secrets they already know I could tell them are evil. They want to destroy this book and it’s secrets just as they want to destroy me. Or maybe they want to use it as a weapon against the enemies of the forces of Sauron. What do they want to know? Should I tell them about the orcs marching around with their dreadful blades, cutting down old women like trees? Should I tell them about the thousands of reeking corpses by the roads or the torture and death in the villages? The pain, the screams, the squirming bodies and the ones still living begging to be put out of their misery?’”
With shaking hands Radawen kept reading as the cabin creaked and the boat tumbled on the waves. The diary unfolded a story of death and destruction, of torture and hunger both witnessed and experienced. Radawen kept reading, page after page. Delioron listened without a stir.
”’The orc we questioned said that the food came from Gondor. That Gondor traded with the Haradrim, and that the Haradrim gave the food to Sauron’s armies as tribute. That the Steward of Gondor was aware of the trade and had given it his blessing. But how could this be? The Gondor we remembered would never trade with the enemy. It was against their laws and against common sense besides. Don’t they understand that after Sauron has defeated all his enemies in the east he will turn his attention to west and devour Gondor too?’”
Radawen flicked over a couple more pages and continued:
”’Who can I trust to give this diary to? An ancient oath would obligate me to give it to Curumo, the first of the Istari. He surely craves for it and the secrets it contains, but after all I have seen here I cannot trust Curumo anymore. Curumo has changed. The Rangers want the book too, and if I give it to Maegon he will give it to them, but I doubt it will ever be given to Denethor if the Rangers get it first. I have become convinced that somebody with a position of power within the Rangers of Ithilien, perhaps the Captain of Gondor himself, knows more about the arrangement between Gondor and the Haradrim they would want the Steward to know. Perhaps the arrangement indeed has Denethor’s blessing, but I doubt he knows all the details about it. I must find someone I can trust to provide this book to Denethor in person, without middlemen. And if it turns out that Denethor is so corrupt or insane that even the truth won’t make the scales fall from his eyes, then the world is indeed doomed and there is nothing left to do to oppose Sauron anymore…’”
Radawen stopped reading.
”That’s it then”, Delioron said. ”Romenstar’s secret.”
”What then?” Radawen asked. ”I'm not sure if I understand everything.”
Radawen closed the book and put it on the small table between them. They were quiet for a while. Delioron took the wineskin from Radawen and took a sip before handing it back to her.
”Lord Falaben trades food for Haradrim gold”, he said. ”Captain Torthadir knows about the deal, and so does Denethor. The Steward has given the arrangement his quiet blessing, even though it’s against the laws of Gondor to trade with the enemy. Sauron finds out about the agreement and uses it to fatten his armies to defeat his enemies in the east. At the same time he sends his emissaries to Minas Tirith to negotiate for ’peace’, to make sure Gondor doesn’t give him any trouble while he uses all of his strength to crush his enemies in the east. And when he is finished, he will turn his whole attention back west, renege any deals he may have made with Gondor and prepare to crush us as well.”
”And what are you going to do with this information?”
”It has to remain a secret”, Delioron said. ”You cannot write down in any chronicles of history that Gondor has traded with Sauron’s allies. History must never know about Romenstar’s visit to Gondor or Gondor will plunge into chaos. We cannot afford that, not with Sauron’s plans so far advanced.”
”But there is proof about corruption and treason in that book, treason of the Captain of Gondor and the Lord of Ethir Anduin…”
”There is no proof of anything, only speculation”, Delioron countered. ”But what do you think will happen if people of Gondor find out that Denethor has broken one of the most important ancient laws of the realm? There will be chaos and unrest, the Lords will be all over each others’ throats. Denethor will be executed and Boromir will become the Steward. Boromir is not ready for such responsibility yet. Sauron will take advantage of the momentary weakness of Gondor and make his move. No, the truth must never be known. A lot is at stake.”
”For the glory of Gondor”, Radawen said bitterly.
”I am just a man who does the dirty work of the throne in the shadows”, Delioron said. ”It is an unpleasant duty, but somebody has to do it. I set the rules of my own survival, otherwise I play by the rules laid out by powerful men in service of the realm as their pawn. But to the ordinary men and women of Gondor men like me don’t exist because Gondor is ruled through honor and virtue. Or so the story goes.”
”I can’t accept that”, Radawen countered sternly. ”They killed Aranuir. He had compassion.”
”And he betrayed you.”
”That’s right, he did. I can’t understand that.”
”It can happen to anyone”, Delioron replied.
”I revealed my secrets to you.”
”They are still secrets.”
The shaking and jerking of the ship was abating. The storm was calming down.
”No more lies”, Radawen said and leaned forward to kiss Delioron. He kissed her back and held her in his arms in the creaking cabin, just like they had done before.
Morning came as a red streak in the eastern horizon. The sea-captain came down to the cabin with weary red-rimmed eyes.
”Where are we?” Delioron asked.
”About 14 leagues southwest of Pelargir.” He glanced at Radawen who was sleeping under the blankets. ”Do you trust her?”
”Yes.” Delioron shook Radawen gently and she opened her eyes. ”Can you dock us at Pelargir?”
”I think so, yes. It’s not the first time I’ve smuggled ’live lumber’ there.”
Radawen stretched and scrabbled her hair with her fingers. She shivered in the coldness of the cabin and looked at Delioron.
”What do we do now?” she asked.
”We get ourselves a couple of horses and try to get to Minas Tirith. We will be arrested in Minas Tirith, but if we can get to the capital it will be all right.”
Radawen was quiet for a long time. ”Romenstar”, she said at last. ”Do you think they really killed him? Could he really be dead?”
”Who knows”, said Delioron. ”His body was never found. He is a wizard with mighty magical powers. He has lived for thousands of years. Can someone like that really be killed so easily? Perhaps he just went home.”
She took the blue-covered book and handed it over to Delioron.
”You hold on to it”, he said. ”We still have a long way to go.”
