The Last Ringbearer

you still suspect that the incident at 4 Lamp Street is my doing?”

“I did until yesterday,” Elandar admitted glumly. “However, yesterday Captain Marandil was arrested and had testified thoroughly about the incident. He did order Algali’s kidnapping…”

Tangorn had to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. Truly it is said: “Too good is no good, either.”

“We’re spinning wheels, dear sir,” he said abruptly, feeling that it was time to mount an attack. “In any event you won’t be the one to make decisions in this matter – not your level, if you pardon the expression. All I need to know is whether you have the means to deliver my message to milady Eornis and keep anyone else in Lorien from finding out? If not, I have to seek other channels, and this conversation is pointless.” The Elf stroked the package lying on the table thoughtfully, clearly looking for traces of magic. Tangorn held his breath: the dragon approached the bait and sniffed it warily. Actually he had nothing to fear – physically, the package was clean and trick-free.

He smirked: “I hope you can detect the absence of poisons or directed magic without opening the package?”

“I’ll manage somehow…” Elandar hefted the package. “This weighs almost half a pound, and I clearly detect metal inside… quite a bit of metal. What else is there beside the message?”

“The message is wrapped in several layers of thick silver foil, so that it can’t be magically read from outside.” The Elf nodded almost imperceptibly. “The outer cover is sackcloth; the knots of the cords tying it are sealed and have metal rings woven into them right under the seals. It is impossible to secretly open such packaging: one can neither boil the wax away, since it’s too deeply infused into the sackcloth, nor carefully slice the seals away with a thin hot blade – the rings are in the way. This is how they seal government mail in Khand, and I know of no method that’s more secure. Another precaution is that the knots that secure the rings are unlikely to be known to any Elves. Please observe.”

With those words Tangorn quickly tied a piece of string around the handle of a fruit knife and handed it to Elandar. The Elf tried to figure out the elaborate pattern, then gave up with obvious displeasure: “One of the local marine knots?”

“Not at all. It’s just that the Elves are very conservative and only use a single knot to tie string to a bow, whereas there are at least three such knots, of which this is one.”

Elandar stuffed the package inside his jacket in annoyance and examined the knot again. Sure, it’s annoying for a member of the higher race to fail at such a trifle. Tangorn froze, afraid to believe his eyes. The dragon swallowed the bait… he did… gulped it, munched, gobbled, wolfed it down! Suddenly, as if sensing the happy jumble of thought and emotion in his mind, the Elf raised his gaze and stared the baron in the eye. With horror Tangorn felt an irresistible force pull him inside the slits of Elandar’s bottomless pupils, felt cold fingers picking through his soul with habitual disgust… Even a small child knows you can’t look the dragon in the eye! He pulled away with all the power of his despair; so does a fox spring out of the steel trap, leaving behind scraps of hide, bits of flesh with shards of broken bones, and ragged sinews. I know nothing – I’m a messenger, nothing more! The pain was terrible, almost physical, and then it was suddenly over – he managed to free himself… or did the Elf just let him go? Then he heard Elandar’s voice, muffled as if in a dream:

“That you hate us is immaterial: politics bring even stranger bedmates together. But you’re hiding something dangerous and important about this package, and that is really bad. What if all that’s inside is some local state secret like the Umbarian fire recipe or one of the Admiralty’s maps, and the DSD is waiting at the door to send me off to the galleys for thirty years or so, or perhaps straight to the Ar-Horan gallows, it being wartime and all? Wouldn’t it be nice to have me arrested for espionage, eh?” “That’s not so…” Tangorn objected feebly, unable to open his eyes; his tongue was leaden, and he felt like either vomiting or just dying. I wonder if this is what a woman feels after rape?

“Not so?” the Elf grunted. “Perhaps. Still, it seems to me that your little gift stinks!”

The dragon didn’t even consider swallowing the bait; all he did was sniff it lazily and drag it back to his lair, just in case, there to lie forever amidst shards of broken armor of those who had dared challenge the monster, kings’ crowns, golden chalices from leveled cities, and skeletons of fair maidens… It’s over, Tangorn realized: he had lost the most important fight of his entire life. As Eru is his witness, he did everything humanly possible, but at the last moment Fortune turned away from him… him and Haladdin. Does this mean that he was mistaken and the Higher Powers do not approve of their mission?

In the meantime Algali came back to their room – it was time to wrap up. Elandar, having turned into a refined gentleman again, amused his companions with a fresh joke, complained about urgent business forcing him to abandon this pleasant company (“No, Baron, by no means should you accompany me; better spend another ten minutes or so here with Algali”), filled their glasses from a pocket flask (“To our success, Baron! This is real Elvish wine, nothing like the swill they sell at Elfstone, believe me”), drank the dark ruby liquid in a single draught, put the half-mask back on his face and headed out.

Tangorn and Algali sat across from each other in silence for a couple of minutes, the untouched goblets like border markers on the table between them. Dear Elandar is making sure I’m not following him, the baron thought lazily. I wonder if mister junior secretary knows that I can get out of this restaurant any minute through the restroom window? He could, although that’s unlikely… The thing is – I don’t need it any more.

What a rotten trick did I play on you, lad, he thought suddenly when he met the childishly open gaze of the ‘carrier of unsuitable information.’ Maybe that’s why the Higher Powers have turned away from me? Now it turns out that I swam in that indelible muck – with you and the guy at 4 Lamp Street – for no good reason. I played a trick on you, they played one on me; as usual, the gods have the last laugh.

“You know, I’ll sit here for a while longer, but you should make legs as fast as you can, if you value your life. Your Elvish friends have sentenced you to death. I suggest using the restroom window – someone your size will squeeze through with no difficulty.”

“Even if I believed you,” the youth answered disdainfully, “I would not have accepted salvation from you.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because you are an Enemy. You fight on the side of Darkness, so your every word is a lie, and your every deed is evil by definition.”

“You’re mistaken, lad,” Tangorn sighed wearily. “I’m on neither the Dark nor the Light side. If you need a label, I’m on the side of many colors.” “There is no such side, Baron,” Algali bit out, and his eyes flashed. “The Battle of Battles is coming, Dagor-Dagorlad, and everybody – yes, everybody! – will have to make a choice between Light and Dark. Whoever is not with us is against us!”

“That’s a lie – such a side exists, very much so.” Tangorn was not smiling any more. “If I’m fighting for anything, it’s for this precious Dagor-Dagorlad of yours to never happen. I’m fighting for the right of those of many colors to remain such without getting dragged into this total mobilization of yours. And speaking of Light and Dark – I suppose your master represents the Light?”

“He’s my Teacher, not my master!”

“Fine. Now look at this.” With these words he took a piece of white quartz-like stone attached to a silver chain out of his pocket. “This is an Elvish poison detector – ever seen