It was a village somewhere in Eriador. A village where a great number of cattle had passed through and no one had cleaned the streets. A village where the moon hung just high enough to light a path through the mess. Whether these were descendants of sires of the Edain who'd halted their westward march, or scions who had fled east again in the devastation of Beleriand, such reckoning of lineage was likely beyond their own memory. Common sense told Auros to pass over this village altogether. He still might have, even after coming to the door of the one alehouse in this forsaken land.
Vercalussë snorted. Auros tugged at his scarf and patted the horse's neck. "Yes my friend. I smell it too."
From the outside it had all the markings of the kind of establishment Farothel would drag him into. Dingy, loud, a haze in the air from poorly-built flues, and patronized by drunkards. He'd grant all those and still insist they go in. Someone somewhere in that din poured their life out to a mug, bemoaning that fortune had cast them into the gutter. It was their duty to pull that person back to their feet. Or so he'd say.
Then would come the argument so familiar he could still hear it: Auros would say they shouldn't stick their noses in the business of the Hildor, whether Edain or not. Farothel would say need is need, and point out how Auros failed to remain aloof when trouble started. Auros would say Farothel wasn't stopping injustice, he was stirring up trouble. The argument would get heated, Auros would make every possible good point, and still he'd find himself walking into whatever hole-in-the-wall Farothel had stopped them at, because he couldn't argue against the one that could've sent them on their way: need is need. Or rather, that's what by silence they agreed to blame. Farothel never called him out, but they both knew why Auros didn't advocate exactly what his cousin pushed so hard for, and it was the same reason they walked into such dens in the first place. Farothel at least had enough wisdom not to go alone.
That was those other times. This time, there was no one to urge him in so they could add another stroke in the long-forgotten tally of how often they'd come close to standing before Mandos. This alehouse didn't even have a sign on it; it had a pole and a chain where a sign should be. If those branches stomped into the mire by the window were supposed to be it, he could ride on by without a second thought.
He could, if he hadn't dismounted. Auros loved how well his cousin knew him. He also hated it.
Alehouses like this didn't greet patrons at the door. Crossing the threshold without the need to dodge a bottle or mug was as warm a welcome as anyone could expect. The scene inside met just about every expectation. It was a single wide room with a staircase at the furthest end. The floor might as well have been dirt with as much as had come in on boots, and the walls appeared to be wood by mere technicality. Torches hung in something resembling uniformity, but they were perched much too close to hanging tapestries. Old char on cloth hemmed in bizarre animals these Hildor never could have seen. Sturdy pillars kept whatever was upstairs from becoming downstairs. Scattered amongst those pillars was a sea of tables long and short, shouting, crashing mugs, and banging plates. A bull's head rattled on the far wall each time a serving woman with full arms barged in and out of the door beneath. A bull's body, certainly not of the same bull, stretched over a large firepit in the center. The lone surprise was a wide chimney that pulled the fire's smoke upward instead of letting it spread out. Even the two men tending the spit got fresh air, though by the sway in their stance they'd partaken of as much ale as the patrons.
At one of the long tables a man bellowed a song, punctuating each hook with a thrust of his mug towards the sky. While Auros contemplated the man's complete lack of melody, an all-too familiar feeling settled between his shoulders, the kind one learned to trust on dangerous roads, when noticing small things could be the difference between life and death. In the corner, grey eyes glimmered beneath a hood, brimming with tethered impatience. Those eyes were much too sober for all the grime and carousing. Someone thought by sitting so close to one of the pillars he could watch the door unnoticed. Any other night he might've been right. Auros made sure the stranger understood the difference: he met the gaze until those eyes retreated deeper into the shadow of the stranger's hood.
There was still time to leave. It wasn't too late. It was never too late, right until it was. The moment when the trap snapped shut always came without warning. A woman's shout scaled the clamor, followed by the crash of a table. Grasping, jostling, and shouting carried after it. At the far side of the room, two men chose to brawl with an alewife caught in the middle. Contemptible. Everyone who could've pulled her to safety was too busy cheering on the fight. Auros really hated how well his cousin knew him.
Every tavern brawl he'd been in taught the same lesson: even when drunkards were beyond the capacity to understand words or gestures, they could still understand a fist. If Farothel were there, they would've each cuffed a brawler and set a more peaceful tone for the rest of the evening. Alas, that second pair of hands was an absent luxury, and by the time Auros pushed his way through the crowd, knives had been drawn. He grabbed the brawler with the broadest shoulders and knocked him to the ground. Then he put himself between his last target and the alewife. The brawler looked to the alewife, then at the man on the ground, and a series of angry noises erupted from him. In more sober moments those noises might've even come out as words, not that Auros would've understood them.
As if summoned by drunken blathering, the other boot dropped: not with a thud, but a hush. All eyes turned to Auros. How galling. They cared nothing for an innocent woman, but they were happy to put their ale down when someone got involved. Most of these "concerned patrons" were too drunk to count the number of fingers on their hand. If a larger brawl broke out, Auros could have half skewered before they blinked, and anyone who got a lucky hit would break a hand, or knife, on the mail shirt hidden under his tunic. It'd be a short, messy fight, and there'd be no honor in it. Not over knocking a burly drunkard on his backside. Lucky for them, Auros had one more gesture even their dulled wit could grasp. He reached into his pocket, held up a gold coin, and placed it in the alewife's hand. He then made a circle in the air with his finger. Cheers rang out at every table. Beer was cheaper than blood.
The belligerents pushed past. Neither were happy their fight had been interrupted, nor were they drunk or foolish enough to resume. Drunkards were never happy when someone broke up their brawl. For these two, he would've been content to give them both a wide berth. One assaulted his nose with a mix of boar, pine, blood, and too much time in the wild, and the other radiated mostly ale and flowers. It was a relief when they were out of smell. "Looks like I found my table," Auros muttered as he set theirs back on its feet.
Two women scurried over as he set the chairs to rights and sat down: the alewife with a large mug, and behind her another woman bearing a tray. Now that he wasn't in the midst of combat, he had a chance to see who he'd stuck his neck out for. The alewife was well-dressed for the state of the village. A line sat on her brow, no doubt put there by worry of getting caught between two drunkards. Other than that, the only clear lines on her face were from her pleasant smile. Her motion showed grace and compassion and her actions spoke of care. While grey had begun to take an interest in her, anyone with eyes would know that it wasn't so many years since she would've had a trail of suitors as long as the room. No doubt that honor and trouble now rested on the second woman, a little taller and slimmer, like enough in features and temperament and unlike enough in age to be her daughter.
The alewife took a choice cut of meat from the tray, as big as the plate that bore it. As she leaned down to set it in front of Auros, he noticed the same floral aura emanating from her that he'd caught from the second brawler. Neither had got that close, or so he thought. When she pulled back so did the scent, allowing the mingling and tantalizing aromas of the beef and its sauce to push away speculation.
Both women offered him a smile and many words familiar-sounding enough to be related to the Westron of the Dunedain. Not a close relation though; more like a third cousin. Among the curtseys, light caught on a ruby set into the pommel of a dagger tucked into the older woman's sash. A long, thin scabbard refused to bend with her. Those men were lucky she hadn't drawn it. Many of the serving women wore knives, but they were too large to serve their purpose in close quarters where they were needed. The dagger at the alewife's waist wasn't large or garish, but it could end a man before he felt it. Perhaps that's why no one stepped in to help. A similar dagger lay at the daughter's hip, but with some kind of yellow gem. Unlike her mother, she wore it pushed to the side with part of the hilt beneath a wrap of her sash.
The women curtsied one last time and left him to his meal. Lifting his mug in imitation of a toast, he muttered, "To Farothel, the reason I'm still here." It was the toast he always gave when he and his cousin got their first mug, a gentle reminder of why they were in such a place. He put the mug to his lips. Amazing how the dingiest places managed to serve the best ale. He used to wonder which Valië had sung that rule into being. It must've been a Valië. Certainly not Yavanna. She balked at the idea that people might need shelter and warmth at the cost of her precious trees. No, these humble matrons most likely had Nessa to thank. It seemed appropriate such a blessing would come from the first bride in Arda.
Not even two gulps were gone from his mug and the moment of peace was over. A very clear, very sober voice filled the void left by the women's departure.
"Can't say I've ever seen an Elf in a place like this before."
The words came with the slight halts and deliberation of exercising a long-unused muscle. Still, it was better Sindarin than he would've expected to find in this village. Auros picked up a fork and knife and carved what proved to be a very tender cut of meat. "You seem to want a word with me, so have a seat." He pointed his fork at the other chair then stuffed the chunk in his mouth. An excellent blend of flavor, an intimation of something sweet against the savory of the meat. Coupled with the ale, it was nearly enough to banish his earlier misgivings.
"Much appreciated. My name is Avandur. At your service." The man slid into the vacant chair. He was at least a head and a half taller than the other Hildor, even if they sobered up enough to stand straight. In a room full of silver-flecked heads and beards, the only grey on him was those eyes still shining with tethered impatience. His clothing was ragged and his beard purposefully unkempt, as if he'd roughened it to blend in. How unnecessary. These drunkards hadn't even noticed an Elf in their midst, but if they'd been sober enough, no clothing or beard-shaping would've disguised the way Avandur carried himself. The other men in the room were settled and content, accepting of their lot in life. Avandur was hungry, and not just because he looked like he'd missed a few meals. He was young, eager, and moved with a different purpose, and above all else, he couldn't hide his lineage.
"I am Auros. Don't Dunedain usually stick to their own dwellings this far north? What brings you to this miserable hovel?"
"I could ask the same of you."
Auros finished his ale and planted his fork in the roast. "I suppose your business is none of mine. It is my business, however, that you've been watching me since I crossed the threshold." The alewife's daughter reappeared long enough to leave another mug.
Avandur bristled as he straightened in his chair. "You must admit your presence in this 'miserable hovel' is worthy of consideration." This Dunadan, who couldn't be much more than a score of years, spoke a kernel of knowledge that nearly a century of journeys across Lindon and Eriador had yet to teach Farothel.
Auros cut another slice of beef, but kept his fork planted on the plate. "It seems we're at an impasse. I don't wish to discuss my business, and you don't wish to discuss yours. If your only desire was to see an Elf up close, this audience is concluded." Of course that wasn't it. That would've been too easy. A walk through spiderwebs would've left fewer clinging wisps than the desperation wafting about this Dunadan. It was merely a question of whether pride or pragmatism would win the battle raging behind that steady, practiced demeanor.
"The truth is I need help, and you appear to be my best chance." Pragmatism won.
Auros put down his fork and knife. "Why should I concern myself with the affairs of the Secondborn?"
"Why indeed? You seemed happy enough to involve yourself moments ago." He seemed to think that was a point in his favor.
The alewife's daughter returned with a plate of vegetables seared just right by the kiss of an open flame. Over the rim of his new mug, Auros followed Avandur's gaze. He looked up at the woman, glanced down at his plate, then back at her and nodded at the other side of the table. She turned to Avandur, then back to Auros, nodded with a smile and dashed off.
"If I didn't step in an innocent woman might've been hurt."
"Well, I've been hunting one of those men, so perhaps you'd be willing to extend your involvement."
"What business do you have with him? I don't know his crimes against you, but endangering a bystander is enough to earn my enmity. I trust you had nothing to do with that."
Avandur's hand gripped the edge of the table. His body tensed and his brow lowered into a scowl. "I'm not so obsessed with vengeance that I would leave victims in my wake."
"Vengeance? You're rather young to have such bitter foes."
"I wasn't aware retribution was an old man's game."
The alewife's daughter placed a mug and plate in front of Avandur, curtsied and scurried off again.
"What's this?!" He looked at the plate as if he'd never had one set before him in his life.
"It's clear you haven't eaten well in a few days."
Avandur straightened in his seat again. "And why would you say that?"
"The alewife's daughter has come to this table three times since you sat down."
"And?"
"If I'm any judge, she's a lovely woman with a kind face."
"So?"
"So your eyes haven't left my plate. If my generosity wounds your pride, consider that if you don't eat neither can I, and I haven't had a good meal in a few days either."
Avandur bowed his head and pulled the plate closer. "I've more important things on my mind and don't have time for such distractions."
Distractions, heh. A familiar protest. It was probably best not to mention the maiden's eye had been on him the whole time. After a moment of hesitation the Dunadan thrust his fork into the roast. Auros waited until he'd taken several bites before returning to his own meal. "What brought you to such dire straits?"
"The ship's captain cheated me on my pay."
"You're a mariner?"
"Yes."
"You're a bit far inland, aren't you?"
"Not by choice."
"Interesting." Auros took a sip of ale.
"What?"
"That you don't consider vengeance a choice."
Avandur squeezed his fork until his knuckles turned white. "I wonder how you'd see it if ten years after your father's death, you learned he didn't die how you were told."
"What happened?"
"They said he fell overboard in a squall. Tripped over a sprung deck plank, hit his head against the side on his way down." Avandur shoved a roll in his mouth and drained his mug to wash it down. "A little over a year ago, we put into port south near Umbar. I wandered into a tavern not much better than this, a place retired sailors like to frequent. I spotted one of my father's shipmates. The man had eaten with us almost every time they were home. When he was made First Mate right before their last voyage, my father was the first to clap him on the back and tell him how much he'd deserved that promotion. I guess the years changed me more than I thought because he looked at me like a stranger. I didn't bother correcting him, and after a few drinks we were trading stories. He starts one about how about ten years ago, the crew discovered one of their shipmates was Elendili. He leaned in close and whispered it like a curse."
"I'm told in Umbar it might as well be. I thought your king wished to set things right."
Avandur snorted as he poked a carrot. "Correcting course of such a large ship doesn't happen all at once and Endor is far from his throne. It takes all he has just to hold Numenor to his reforms."
The daughter appeared with another pair of mugs. Just before she disappeared again, Auros thanked her. She turned back, smiled and nodded, then hurried back to her work.
Another roll disappeared in a gulp of ale before the Dunadan continued. "I hadn't given much thought to the whole 'King's Man' and 'Faithful' argument before that day. I'm still not sure I have. I guess they wouldn't really be this king's men." He took another gulp and chewed in silence while he thought. "The Valar haven't helped or hindered me personally, and I don't have much use for Elves. What I'm sure of is that his chatter helped me realize my parents were Elendili. They were among the few I knew of who celebrated the king. Late at night when they sat by the fire, they spoke often of how the shadow would soon pass from our land." Avandur glared into his mug, then took a gulp and savored another chunk of meat before he continued.
"The more he rambled on, the more I realized his latest tale was of the night my father died. The details were too similar. The events lined up too neatly, except in this version, ropes lashed him. He should've been cut in half, but he was knocked overboard. After the wind died down, they inspected the rigging and found the ropes hadn't snapped, they'd been cut, but the captain never gave that order. At least no one said they heard such an order. They never found the body, said Ossë must've taken him. He admitted they didn't try that hard. They couldn't even figure out who cut the ropes. You'd think it would be a priority to figure out who took such an action without orders. My father's friend claimed he investigated, then declared it an accident and buried the whole affair."
Avandur drained his mug and slammed it down. "He said he was the last man to see my father alive, that their eyes met, and that somehow my father knew what was about to happen and why. That man... that man who broke bread with my family, that man who my father called friend, told me he was haunted by that look ever since. He must've recognized me at last. Maybe he saw that same look in my eyes, because he sobered up real quick and begged for forgiveness. Right to the end." Avandur stabbed his fork into a potato.
"So you got the man who buried the crime. I suppose that means you're hunting the man who cut the ropes."
"Exactly. I found the crew manifest of the voyage amongst his belongings. Seems he took all of his evidence with him, and he was quite meticulous in his notes. He'd narrowed it down to three suspects before he stopped, and I narrowed it down to one."
"So he did investigate. He didn't know from the start." Auros took another gulp.
"And yet he chose not to pursue justice."
"If he forsook the investigation, there had to be a reason."
"He said the crew were mostly self-professed King's Men, and one dead Elendili, no matter how he died, wasn't worth sowing dissension among the crew. Decades of friendship earned my father no loyalty." Avandur clenched his teeth. "What really galls me is the man who ordered my father's death got to die peacefully in his sleep years ago, surrounded by family. What justice is that?"
"And how does the man in the brawl tie in? You want him alive, so I suppose he's not the one you're hunting."
"He knows where my quarry is hiding."
"What will you do with him once you have the information you need?"
The man's face contorted as if he heard an accusation in that question. "Rest assured that if he answers my questions honestly, he has nothing to fear. Look! He's leaving! We have to follow him!"
Auros sighed. Such impatience. "Do you know where he's staying?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then finish your meal. Look at the way he's walking. He's not going anywhere tonight but bed. We can confront him in the morning when his mind is clear."
"He's dead!"
Avoiding interruptions was the reason Auros chose a secluded spot for his sword practice, and why he practiced early in the morning. It was a tried and true technique; so when Avandur trudged from the village to a small copse next to the stream, shouting before he was even halfway across the field, it carried all the novelty of watching a Dwarf climb a tree. Sunlight shimmering off dew on the untrod grass turned the trail he blazed into a canyon of shadow.
Auros waited to respond until the intruder was close enough for a conversation. "How did you find me?" His sword sliced through the air.
"I guessed the inn wouldn't be up to your standards, so this was the next best spot. I've heard Elves are disdainful like that."
"It has nothing to do with disdain." He gave one last swipe then slid his sword into its scabbard. "Do Hildor really sleep five strangers to a bed?"
"Even a 'miserable hovel' is safer than sleeping alone in the wilderness. For most of us at least, and beggars can't be choosers." That was true enough. Not everyone was made to venture alone into the wild. For them, company wasn't a nicety, it was a necessity. Still, it was one thing to share heat with someone who'd earned your trust, who'd shown that you'd earned theirs. To leave yourself vulnerable with complete strangers, and for mere convenience, it wasn't just foolish, it was...
"Savage."
That one word scrawled a grin on the Dunadan's face. For a man who'd experienced betrayal he didn't yet seem to understand trust, and how the absence of one didn't imply the presence of the other. His tone carried an unearned familiarity. "If you hope for better accommodations in travels beyond your own lands, you may wish to make some friends among other peoples."
"I'll keep that in mind." Auros pointed to a pair of sticks thrust into the ground over a campfire. "Take a fish. We'll consider our next course of action on the way to the village."
"What next course of action? He's dead!"
"Call it curiosity. I'd like to know what brought him to that fate. You should be curious as well."
"Well I'm not. If you'll excuse me, my trail has gone cold and I have no leads. I need to make my own plans."
Bah. If it weren't for Farothel... "Have you considered he might have something useful among his effects?"
Avandur smirked. "I've already looked them over." So he assumed if he didn't notice something, it must not be important.
"Then you can give me detailed descriptions of everything he had on his person."
"I said I looked them over. I didn't say I memorized them."
"Of course. I won't ask how you managed such a thorough inventory of his effects. Have you considered that whoever killed him might know something?"
"Well they don't know who did it, so there's no hope of asking. I just know it wasn't me."
"Piecing together what happened might lead to our goal."
"Our goal?"
Clouds crawled closer in the distance beyond the village. Auros sighed. Clear skies wouldn't last long. "You didn't come all the way out here just to say 'I told you so.' I gave my word. I haven't recanted that decision." Auros snatched up the fish and doused the fire. "You do have a horse, don't you?"
"A whole one even." The Dunadan shot a glare as he let loose a shrill whistle. He must've heard an accusation Auros hadn't lobbed. He seemed to hear alot of things Auros didn't say. Not long after a horse came running.
"Good." Auros held out a fish. "Take one. Don't balk at the offer, either. You've already admitted you're low on coin, and for all your talk of 'beggars' and 'choosers', you don't strike me as a man low in pride."
Avandur bowed his head. "If you must know, that maiden caught me before I left last night. She gave me a parcel full of leftover rolls and a helping of the roast and vegetables. She was insistent, and after your admonition I felt obligated to humor her."
Imagining the Dunadan with furrowed brow, focused on his mission despite a maiden insistent on distracting him, amused Auros to no end. "There's no shame in accepting sincere generosity." That's what certain friends had told him, at least. Not that it ever lessened the ordeal.
Hesitation hardened into obstinance. "I spent most of the last decade at sea. I know a thing or two about low rations and missing meals. I can work just as hard and go just as long without food as you."
"That's good, but I can't carry and eat two fish before we get back to the village." He thrust the stick into Avandur's hand. "Mount up, then tell me what happened, if you know."
Avandur hoisted himself onto the saddle one-handed. With a light nudge his horse fell into step next to Auros'. "He's dead. That's what happened. Someone put a knife in him. Right in the gut." He pulled back the skin and opened his mouth wide. The extra helpings from the maiden hadn't shrunk his bite or slowed his chewing.
"Where did they find him? Was the knife still in him?"
"Well, no, but they said the wound was too small to be a sword. I heard them talking. They found him doubled over in an alley between two buildings along the main road. They think he couldn't escape because the other side is closed off by a wall."
"If someone stuck a knife in that man, escape would be the last thing on his mind. With a gut wound, that strength would be better spent on who put it there. Was anything missing that they could tell?"
"That I don't know."
"Were there any witnesses to the event?"
"I don't know."
"How long ago did they find him?"
"...I don't know." Each question Avandur couldn't answer was a swift and much-needed boot to his hubris.
"I assume they've moved him already."
"Yes, to the embalmer."
Embalmer. It would seem the Dunedain's influence had touched even this secluded village. "We need to examine the alley first, then the body. Once we've done that we'll consider suspects."
"The man he fought last night would certainly be one."
"I agree."
On the edge of the village Auros tossed the remains of the fish into the grass, pulled out a water skin and washed his hands. Rummaging through one of his bags, he dug out a cloak meant for formal occasions, one that bore his coat of arms. He shook his traveling cloak, folded it, and stowed it in a separate bag, then shook the new cloak and cast it about himself. Wrinkles and folds were no concern, thanks to Dinmir.
"You're a knight." By the way his gaze locked onto Auros' family crest, he clearly hadn't expected such a revelation.
Auros glanced up, then went back to fastening his cloak. "Aye. How well do you understand their speech?"
"Well enough. The accent made it difficult at first, and some of their expressions can be confusing, but I've grown used to it." To become so familiar, Avandur had been in the village longer than he let on.
"Once I've had better examples than a room full of drunkards, I'm sure it'll make more sense. Late evening in an alehouse isn't the best place for linguistics. In the meantime, you'll be translating. We need to make a certain impression, and it'll help if you don't do or say anything to suggest you're not my lieutenant. Ride to the embalmer. Have him lay out the man's effects and do nothing with them or him until I arrive. Does this village have a magistrate?"
Avandur nodded. "They call him the Reeve."
"After the embalmer, go tell this 'reeve' Sir Auros will be coming to speak with him. Keep any other declarations few and pithy. Once that's done meet me at the alley."
"How are you going to know which one it is?"
"How many alleys are blocked by a wall on one side?"
"Along the main road? Just one."
"Then I should have no trouble finding it. One more thing: if the embalmer gives you any trouble, tell him Sir Auros wishes to pay his respects. Stress the title. It should give him enough pause to buy time; but only say this if he gives you trouble." Avandur nodded and rode off while Auros continued to the alley.
None of the previous night's bovine road hazards remained as people went about their business. Sober eyes in broad daylight took more heed of Auros' presence as well. Except for the handful of children too absorbed in their own game to notice, they all gave him a wide berth. He couldn't blame them. Their village was rather remote and most had probably seen less than a handful of Elves in their lifetime. Knights didn't seem to ride through often either, or at least none wearing the livery of one. That's what he wanted though: talk of an Elf knight riding through town, taking a personal interest in matters. Let that news reach the reeve and simmer in his mind. Let him consider the possibilities and repercussions.
This wasn't the best order of things, but seeing the alley couldn't wait. Too much evidence could be lost to carelessness, or just the resumption of life. Relying on the reeve's investigation alone was too risky. Besides that he couldn't leave Avandur to his own devices. The Dunadan was still too green; worse, he was too green to realize how green he was. The path he walked wasn't meant to be tread with reckless abandon. Vengeance was a blade to be tempered, lest it fall from lofty appeals to justice through concession after concession in its pursuit. Avandur hadn't tempered that blade. He'd yet to temper himself. Even one slip would cost him, but not before costing an innocent more.
Just as he thought, the alley wasn't difficult to spot. The wall itself stood along the main road, not quite three shoulder-widths across and rising to a foot below the roofs of the buildings it joined. Two tall beams of wood braced several horizontal wood slats set as close as imperfect shaping would allow. Given the previous state of the street, it likely served to keep cattle from wandering off their intended path through the village. Dismounting, he led Vercalussë through a narrower pass between two buildings, coming out on a road where a cobbler's workshop, a bakery, and a tannery were the most notable businesses. The alley he sought was between two nondescript buildings lacking proper signage, and it stunk of old trash and other scents he did his best to ignore. Strangely, the one scent he expected to be prominent was little more than a hint in the tapestry of odors. Perhaps the man had been discovered too quickly for death to settle heavily, but blood should've had a stronger profile.
Avandur galloped down the street towards him and pulled to a sudden stop. "I don't see how we can learn much. Dozens of people must've stomped around in there by now."
Auros held up a hand, but kept his focus on the alley. "Were you able to deliver the message to both the embalmer and the reeve so quickly?"
"I spoke with the embalmer, but the reeve's doorward stopped me, so I told him what you said. I don't think he believed me." He leapt out of the saddle and planted his feet next to Auros, eyes darting over the walls and ground as if he expected some clue would announce itself. "So why are we gawking at the alley? There must be a better way." He seemed more eager to find the man's murderer than he had been.
"Four. Four people have been here this morning. To sate your curiosity."
"You can tell that?"
"The ground is fairly hard, but the evidence isn't completely gone. The freshest footprints are likely from whoever found the body, and whoever moved him. They trod all over the older tracks. Two, maybe three pairs. It's difficult to tell. The older tracks appear to be all the same size. I'd think they were the same shoe if they weren't standing side by side. They might still be. None of the tracks come close to that back wall. There are also shallow ruts leading inward. Some of them have been trampled, but there's still traces of the darker dirt revealed. I didn't get a look at the man's boots last night, but I wouldn't hesitate to guess the width of these marks are a good match for his heel."
Avandur crouched down for a closer look. "How can you tell it's moving inward?"
"It stutters like a wave. It starts shallow towards the opening of the alley, digs deeper moving in, then stops, starts again shallow, digs again, and so on. Whoever put him here probably had him around the chest and struggled under the effort. There are too many overlapping prints, but based on them it's someone smaller and likely not used to maneuvering such a heavy load. Otherwise they could've pulled him in without so many halts, or carried him altogether."
"So if the size difference was that big, he shouldn't have had trouble pushing his way out if the attacker blocked his way, even with a knife in his gut." It wasn't just a feeling. The Dunadan really had found more interest in solving the crime since they split up.
"Aye."
He studied the ground in and around the alley. "I don't see any blood. He must've been put here after the deed was done."
Auros nodded. "That's possible."
"I don't see any of the same ruts in the street, either."
"I didn't expect you would. Where is this 'reeve'?"
"The large building near the center of the village."
"We'll speak to him before our investigation goes any further." As he spoke, his eyes were drawn to a strange pattern on the wall of one of the buildings.
"Are... are we going?" Avandur radiated impatience.
Sunlight slipped through a gap in the back wall and glinted off the pattern. "Half a moment. There's something. Right there." Auros crouched down in front of it. "Some sort of gem stuck in the grain of the wood, and several small pieces in the dirt here." He picked one up. "There doesn't seem to be much damage to the wall, but the way the fragments look smashed, it must've been a brittle gem. Citrine perhaps, or topaz?"
"I'm not a jeweler."
"Nor am I, but I've had some unfortunate incidents with jewelry."
"Well I hope she forgave you." An annoying tendency of young Edain: they got much too familiar much too quickly. Worst of all, expressing annoyance at it just encouraged them.
"One of them did, at least." He didn't look away from the gem.
"Sounds like quite a story. Or stories?"
"Wearing jewelry is a frivolity I've no use for anyway. Do you have a small pouch?" Avandur handed him an empty purse with imprints where coins had dug into the fabric. Picking what he could out of the dirt was simple, but for what was smashed against the wall, Auros used his knife to ease it off. "He may not have died here, but this could still be a clue. It must've been rather large when it was whole. Ok, that's all I can get. Don't lose this."
Avandur cinched the purse closed and stuffed it in his pocket. "We're done here then?"
"Aye. Next we go to get the reeve's blessing if possible."
Involving themselves in the village's affairs would require a touch of discretion. Auros would've preferred to approach the reeve first. He and Farothel had tarried in many Hildor villages on their journeys, and in more of those villages than he cared to consider, the magistrates were more fearful of rousing the populace from inaction than concerned about granting recompense. They had a vested interest in the patronage of frequent rowdy visitors: they owned the taverns, the alehouses, and the inns, and the troublemakers paid more than their folk. When rowdiness turned to destruction of their own livelihood, however, those same ministrators had no qualms looking the other way while an outsider dispensed the justice that was their duty to deliver. The kind of man serving these people would inform his next steps.
Perhaps the reeve's doorward had been skeptical when Avandur first approached, but word of Auros riding around had certainly preceded their arrival. A handful of petitioners gawked, then suddenly found their requests not so important as he and Avandur dismounted; and the doorward, who had been growling at the gathering moments before in an attempt to keep order, couldn't muster that same nerve for the Elf knight he'd heard about. That could've also been due to the sword at Auros' hip versus the club at his own. He didn't wait to be addressed before bowing and opening the door for them.
The inside managed to feel both crowded and vacant. Rows of doors lined the long hall on both left and right. Less than a handful were open and most stood so close that, if some of them opened at all, they likely as not opened to bare walls rather than rooms. A stale air sat in the long hall between. Stale, stuffy, and self-important. Sconces hung next to each door, and the line of flickering flames all danced toward a single room at the far end, sitting open and pouring light for all to wonder at. The closer they came the more it seemed that there must be several lamps set solely to force approaching citizens to avert their eyes, and lighting the room itself must be a secondary consideration.
With that overabundance of light came heat; a heated discussion, that is, and spilling just as readily down the hall. It didn't cease when they reached the doorway either. The loudest voice belonged to a wiry man lobbing long, agitated monologues at an empty chair. Rough hands gripped the hems of his pants. He wasn't a stranger to toil. His eyes told a sadder story: darting, narrowed, studying, and measuring. Suspicion, bitterness, and mistrust had taken a toll that had long since bled beyond the confines of his soul. Slumped shoulders and a bowed back displayed how fully his body too had forgotten the aspirations of his not-so-distant youth.
The other man in the office gave his full attention to a bookshelf along the back wall, tending one of two lamps not directing its luminance into the eyes of oncoming petitioners. His spine was as rigid as any of his tomes', and he only turned from them to inject curt retorts when the other man stopped ranting long enough to take a breath. Condescension imbued every turn, even as he pretended to take only cursory note of the Elf towering in his office. This latter man was without a doubt the reeve, and it seemed this was a long-practiced routine between them. When the lanky man at last noticed Auros and Avandur, he tugged at his high collar and ran his hands over his retreating hairline.
Auros leaned close to Avandur. "Stand straighter and translate what I say." He began with a shallow bow. "Greetings, good reeve. I am Auros, a knight of the Noldorin realms. Allow me to express my sympathies concerning the calamity that has befallen one of your citizens and offer my aid in bringing justice for his kin."
As Avandur translated Auros' words, the reeve turned from his books and gave each of them another cursory glance. When the translation ceased, he snorted and spoke several words, then turned back to his books. Auros may not have understood what was said, but he knew dismissal when he heard it. While the reeve pretended nonchalance towards Auros' claim to knighthood, his hauteur was carefully, and pointedly, aimed at Avandur.
"He says it's not much of a calamity." Avandur managed to show more remorse than the reeve.
"Still, you must be as concerned for the safe travel of our peoples as I. To ensure it be not found wanting, I extend my services." He let the words steep.
The reeve turned again. The room fell into silence as he gave Auros a long, thoughtful look. Calculations churned behind blithe pretense. Likelihoods and eventualities. Who might find it wanting? Who else might become involved? If he refused, who might Auros appeal to? What was the quickest way to rid himself of the trouble? At last, the reeve shrugged and spoke again.
"That was easier than I thought. He says a bunch of words that, pared down, mean you're free to pursue it if you wish."
"Excellent. What has his investigation determined so far?"
Avandur translated the question, and the reeve responded with his same dismissiveness. "That a man was stabbed in an alley. Investigation closed." There was no way the reeve could've better lived down to expectations.
"With such thoroughness, no wonder that gem was still lodged in the wall. Don't translate that. Tell him I wish to speak with whomever found the man's body, and whomever cleaned the streets this morning."
Avandur translated, and a smile stretched across the reeve's lips as he nodded to the man who'd been slinging cross words. "This man is the street cleaner, and he says he's also the one who found the body. His name is Ben, and he's muttering some sort of prayer, in case that helps us." Aggravation had begun to seep into his tone.
Auros held in a grimace. "Not unless there's a confession in the midst. Start by asking him how he found the man's body, and try not to sound like you'll string him up regardless of his answer."
Ben tugged at his collar again. Lamplight threw a not-infrequent shine between strands of coal-black hair. His speech wasn't much better than the drunk men in the alehouse the previous night. Where they slurred, he launched into stutters and false starts.
"He says he found the man leaning against a wall in the alley this morning. He was already dead."
"How does he know? Did it look like the body had been disturbed?"
"No. He claims the man was leaning against the wall, head bowed. At first he thought the man was drunk, but when he shook him, the man fell over and he knew he was dead."
"Were there any traces of blood, or signs of a struggle, or anything odd leading into the alley?"
Ben's face twitched when Avandur repeated the question, but in the end he shook his head, albeit a little too vigorously. He was holding something back, but pressing harder wouldn't make him open up, and the reeve was too eager to see that. A weight heavier than fear sat on the man, something Auros had seen too little of to recognize at first glance; nor was indulging the reeve a pleasant proposition. If he were left to struggle under that weight a little longer he might be more forthright.
"I think that's as much useful as we can get from him for now, but ask where he'll be today in case I have more questions."
Ben opened his mouth, but the reeve cut him off and he recoiled like he'd been struck. For all the heat in his words at the beginning, there was genuine concern in his eyes as he watched the reeve.
"The reeve says he'll have one of his deputies keep an eye on him, and send for him when we're ready for a more thorough interrogation." Auros could guess which words in the reeve's statement meant "send for him." They were dripping with anticipation.
"What about the other man in the brawl? Do you know his name?"
Avandur paused and thought. "No, I don't believe I ever heard it. I'll ask him." The reeve, once again, proved his willingness to be ineffectual. "He says he wasn't there, so unless we have a name he can't help. Please tell me we're done here."
"Aye, for now." Auros nodded in the direction of the reeve and left with Avandur close behind.
Once they were away from the reeve's building, Avandur growled. "And here I wasted my time. I could've clobbered Firon in the middle of the street in broad daylight and dragged the information out of him and no one would've batted an eyelash."
"Don't assume... Firon?"
"The man's name was Firon, though the people of this village call him 'Walt'. Didn't I mention that?" No, he didn't. The second name evoked thoughts of covered lamps, or dusk, or maybe a cloudy day. It was possible but not certain the name had roots in an Eldarin tongue. The first, however...
"Firon sounds Sindarin. He was a Dunadan like you?"
Uncertainty flickered in Avandur's eyes. "What does it matter?"
"It could matter a lot." Bah, he should've thought to ask sooner. "For now, be wary of the reeve. He clearly enjoys the authority he wields, and I don't want to give him any reason to exercise it against an innocent man."
"That street cleaner is far from innocent. He didn't tell us the full truth."
"You noticed?"
"I'm surprised you didn't press him further, but after what you just said, I suppose it was because the reeve was present." Good, Avandur wasn't so oblivious after all. "Do you think he's involved in the murder somehow?"
"For now, I just think he's an unpleasant person. They're both unpleasant people." Unpleasantness wasn't a crime, but when the chief magistrate mixed it with hubris and a love for watching others buckle under pressure, it didn't bode well for those under his authority.
"You should've given him that glare you used to stop the brawl last night." Bah.
"We still need to look over the victim and his belongings. With the reeve's authority behind us—"
"Not that we need it."
Auros sighed. Speaking of hubris. "Having the reeve's approval guarantees the cooperation of the village's guards, and we might need that. So, now that we have it, examination of the victim takes precedence, before more time is lost."
On the far end of the village, the embalmer's building was of better make than its neighbors. Gaudy and picturesque ornamentation left no guessing of its mission. Walls stretched skyward twice as high as any of its neighbors.
Auros' lips stretched into a half-smile. "So this is an embalmery."
"Embalmery?" An eyebrow arched as Avandur spoke.
The smile faded. Dinmir and Aldawë would've laughed. "What do you call it?"
"Not that." Avandur looked back at the carvings. "You must think us fools for fearing death and desiring to prolong our lives."
"On the contrary. You think because Elves don't die of age like you that we live unfettered. We can die, and if we do we must stand before Mandos, who decides if and when we may return to life. If he allows it, we still must rely on the whims of the Valar if we wish to return to Endor. They've shut their land before. Who's to say if they'll do it again? If we're denied the right to return to our lives here, if we're forced to sacrifice all that we love and all that we've accomplished, how is that different from the death your people face?"
"And yet you have a chance to rebuild your life among those Valar."
"A memorial to it, perhaps, by their leave."
"And what hope do we mortals have when those capricious judges cast us from Arda altogether into Nothingness?"
The debate was older than both of them. They wouldn't resolve it that day, so Auros opened the embalmer's door and stepped into an immaculate parlor. Walls, floors, ceilings. All of it. Every piece of furniture was polished to a perfect shine. Every cushion was perfectly fluffed, every painting perfectly hung. Every plant had been meticulously chosen, cultivated, and pruned to show nothing less than the greenest green. Only the most vibrant, lively colors were allowed. It would've been the perfect facade if not for a lingering odor of old death too faint for the noses of the Hildor.
Tired eyes, paired with nearly-grey hair adorning slumped shoulders, belied the vigor with which the embalmer leapt from his chair to greet them. A grey-streaked beard bristled from beneath his toothy grin with every upward recoil and downward jolt of his hands clasping theirs. He spoke several words in his own tongue, and Auros in turn spoke several words to him in Sindarin. The embalmer stared at him with the kind of smile one gives when all he hears is gibberish but dare not say so.
"Good, he doesn't understand. Ask if he's prepared what we asked for."
The embalmer rattled his head up and down at Avandur's translation and led them down a long hall. He gabbed as he walked, and Auros understood a handful of words: "tragedy", "honor", "loved ones", and a few others that seemed to be about the weather. At last the long hall opened to a room, empty save for two tables at its center. On one lay the man under a shroud, and on the other his personal effects.
Auros circled around the first table. "You said he was stabbed in the gut?"
Avandur positioned himself opposite where Auros stopped. "That's right."
He pulled back the shroud. "He's already washed the body."
"Yes. He said there wasn't much blood on him anyway."
"Hmm. It's a clean wound. In and out. Not much bruising. Small and narrow. It must've been a very sharp blade. It went in at an upward angle. I don't see any evidence of a struggle. No bruising from grappling with an attacker, no other apparent wounds. I wonder if he even knew his life was in danger." Auros turned the man's hands over and noticed a strange dent in his thumb, almost too faded to see. "There's something here, or there was."
The embalmer became lively again, launching several words at Avandur, who seemed to have trouble keeping up with the bombardment. "He says... when they first brought him in... he noticed a strange mark on his thumb... so he grabbed some ink and parchment and got an imprint." The embalmer pulled a folded parchment from his pocket and showed it to Avandur. "It's a brand of some sort." Avandur squinted as if doing so would form the lines into a recognizable shape.
Auros took the parchment and examined the imprint. "Aye, though it would be odd to brand someone's thumb. I'm not familiar with the design. It's good he did this while it was fresher." Folding the parchment and tucking it into a pocket, he turned to the other table. Nothing too surprising: the clothing he'd worn; a broad-bladed shortsword; a bag of coins that, if Auros had to guess, would become the embalmer's fee; a smaller knife about the right size to slide into a boot; and, to his surprise, a thin-bladed dagger with a large ruby set in the pommel. Auros leaned closer to the man's shirt. The scent of ale and flowers still clung to the front, but there was a fresher odor clinging to the back, a hint of something sweet but not quite floral. It was a familiar scent; surprising he couldn't place it at once.
"I suppose this wasn't a common attempt at robbery or his money would be gone. Perhaps it was someone he knew, who would have a good chance of getting close enough to strike without a struggle. Was everything found on him in this exact condition, or did the embalmer 'show care' to his effects as well?"
"Everything you see is how it was found. He was about to wash the clothing in preparation for the burial when I stopped him."
"It's a good thing you did. I would've expected more blood on his clothing from the wound."
"It was rather warm last night. Perhaps he had his shirt unbuttoned."
"Still, it wouldn't have shot out like a spigot. It had to run somewhere."
"Maybe the killer had something to soak it up."
"Hmm. This dagger was in the alewife's sash." The hilt felt small in Auros' hand. Drawing the blade from its scabbard, he could tell it hadn't been done in a while. The blacksmith's mark lay just above the hilt, an intricate series of grooves stylized to resemble the upper half of a bird emerging from the crown of a tree. He'd seen the local blacksmith's shop. Neither the skill nor the tools for such intricacy lay within. The blade slid back in with a click and he turned his attention to the ruby. In the depths of its facets lay the same blacksmith's mark. "Clever." Ornamentation of impressive precision wrapped the dagger: grapes on a vine spiraling from the pommel to the tip, masking even the divide between scabbard and hilt. Vines had leaves, and leaves had veins. Rubies were set in clusters as grapes, with the pommel as the largest cluster of all. Such skill and patience didn't come cheap, nor from just any Hildor smith's shop. He set the dagger on the table and turned to Avandur. "We're done here. We're going to the alehouse next."
Outside the embalmer's building, Auros stashed the formal cloak and retrieved his original.
"Changing again?"
"I made the impression we needed. The right people have been set on edge. Now we need to inspire calm."
"What about the other man? Shouldn't we track him down?"
"We should. The alewife might know his name." Fastening his traveling cloak, another question occured to him. "You said before that Walt knows where your quarry is. How?"
The long silence said more than words would've. "The man I'm after is his brother."
Auros put a hand on the Dunadan's shoulder. He couldn't have heard right. "You expected a man to surrender his brother?!"
"I'd hoped if Firon learned what his brother did, he'd do the right thing."
"And you just expected him to believe you?"
"No, I expected him to believe you." Not an ounce of guilt touched the man. Not in his voice, not in his face. He didn't even have the decency to look away as he made such an absurd assumption.
This explained a lot. Walt was one of the so-called "Faithful" Dunedain, and Avandur thought that meant he'd believe whatever an Elf said. Auros closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and released the man's shoulder. "You can't expect a man would turn on his own brother based on the word of a stranger, no matter who that stranger is. Don't you have any siblings of your own?"
"I have three."
"Would you surrender any of them to a person you've never met?"
"If they had—"
"That question, if nothing else today, deserves more than a passing thought." Unbelievable. "Let's go."
Clouds rolled in over the village an hour before noon, just as Auros and Avandur stood at the door of the alehouse. The ride in silence made the Dunadan more reflective. Maybe something got through to him at last. He didn't say much as they dismounted, other than to pose a question disguised as a statement.
"I suppose I'll be translating again."
"Aye." Thanks to the embalmer's sober exemplar of the local language, Auros shouldn't need much more to pierce the accent and idioms, but having the Dunadan continue translating would still serve a purpose. The people they spoke to might reveal more if they thought he couldn't understand.
Burned out torches sat in sconces, but light poured in through pairs of windows set high on each wall. Men who had tended the firepit the night before slept by its cooling embers, covered in blankets they couldn't have pulled over themselves. Other men prepared the spit anew, while yet others shifted the large, heavy tables for the women who tended to the last vestiges of the night's celebration.
Avandur turned his head to and fro. "I don't see the alewife from last night... but I do see the daughter. In the light of day, she is rather fetching." He was too busy searching Auros for a reaction to notice the maiden's cheeks flushing pink.
"Tell her we wish to speak to her mother." Avandur repeated the request in her language. When she nodded and rushed up the stairs at the back of the room, Auros eyed the hall again, lowering his voice. "Be careful what you say from here on. She understands Sindarin."
"How?"
"I suspect her father taught her. I should've caught it last night when I thanked her rather than just nodding."
"But how would... you're not suggesting Firon is her father, are you?"
"You've been in this village how long, and you never made the connection?"
"He only arrived shortly before you did." Again he scowled at the perceived accusation. It didn't last long, however, as another thought creased his forehead. "Does that mean she..."
"Understood you expounding on her beauty? If she had any doubts about your interest before, you just removed all of them."
"I was just acknowledging a fact. I don't have time for those kinds of distractions." This Dunadan shouldn't be so amusing.
The daughter reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. Auros leaned in one last time as she beckoned to them. "Keep your eyes open and engage the mother in chat. It doesn't matter what you discuss yet, but I'd recommend avoiding conversations about marriage."
Avandur's scowl-laden head creaked in Auros' direction. "I think I can manage that just fine."
"And remember to call him 'Walt' when he comes up."
At the top of the stairs, the space opened to a wide expanse with a central wall where the chimney for the firepit below would be. At the far end closed doors suggested space beyond the common area. Those were most likely rooms. That the alewife and her daughter lived on the floor above wasn't a surprise; that the building was sturdy enough to allow it was.
Handkerchief in one hand, the alewife rose from a couch to the right of the chimney-wall, rushed over and offered several profuse words that seemed to be expressions of thanks. He felt odd being thanked all things considered, but refusal might've upset the alewife more. She'd spent long enough crying that her eyes resembled grapefruits. Unless some other tragedy had befallen her overnight, there was little doubt she shared a bond with Walt, and that remaining sliver wouldn't last long in conversation.
The alewife motioned to seats near the couch where her daughter had already taken up vigil. Cups and a pitcher waited on a tray. While Avandur kept the woman talking, Auros studied her: gestures, emotions, and what he could perceive of her intentions. "Third cousin" wasn't such a distant relation after all with the proper clues, and the woman was in a mood to talk. With Avandur's translations, it wasn't too long before he grasped enough to follow the conversation on his own. He came to understand the alewife's name was Edith, and her daughter's Mildred.
"Why yes. Me and my sister-in-law run things below. She keeps the kitchen in order while I manage the hall with Mildred and negotiate with merchants for supplies. My brother is a hunter. He usually provides the meat: a deer, a wild boar, whatever large game he can catch, though sometimes our patrons bring in something. Last night one of the herdsman brought in a bull. Walt, he..." On the verge of tears again, she took a moment to pour drinks and reassert control.
Auros sniffed his cup. The pitcher contained some kind of mead. He put the cup to his lips, but kept his eyes on both women. "Tell her that her daughter has unique eyes. She must take after her father." Mildred fidgeted.
As Avandur repeated Auros' words, the alewife shifted in her seat.
"She does, doesn't she? I'd recently lost someone very dear to me when Walt came into our alehouse, sat alone in a corner, and ordered a pint and a meal. He looked miserable, ragged, and, like me, in no mood to be consoled. Somehow that was consoling enough. He told me how his own people shunned him. We found comfort together in our misery. We married sooner than is customary for my people, and we brought more disfavor on ourselves when we wed according to his customs rather than ours. My parents would've disowned me if not for Garth and Kate— that's my brother and his wife. Garth used to get along so well with Walt, but the last few years they've almost come to blows more times than not."
"Garth was the man fighting with Walt last night?" If it was true, it meant Auros had stuck himself in the middle of a family squabble.
"...Yes." Tears built at the edges of her eyes. "Walt wanted to take us away someplace. He said he knew where we could start fresh. They've never argued so bad before! Had Sir Auros not intervened, I'm certain they would've given much worse to each other than a lump on the head." How odd it was, receiving thanks from a wife for knocking her husband on his backside. Knocking a brother on his backside, on the other hand, depended on the sister. Some would get downright celebratory.
"Do you think Walt and Garth picked up where they left off?"
Tears welled in her eyes. Tears and anger. "They wouldn't! They never would've gone that far!"
If nothing else, Auros was certain Edith believed Garth didn't kill Walt. He glanced at Mildred, in the middle of raising her cup, and noticed something missing from her sash. "Ask about the dagger." Mildred caught his glance and paused mid-sip.
Avandur's eyes flickered wider with a sip from his cup. He peered at the contents as if he didn't expect the taste before resuming the conversation. "We visited the embalmer's to pay our respects to Walt. Among his belongings was a dagger that last night had been in your possession."
Edith clutched her handkerchief. "I gave it to him before he went on his walk. I had a bad feeling and it looks like I was right, not that it did much good."
"The local blacksmith must be a master of the craft, to forge such a work of art."
"I don't want to say anything bad about him, but my grandpapa said even as a young man our village's blacksmith couldn't make a butter knife that would hold up against butter. We just can't seem to attract a better one. I mean, he can make a horseshoe just fine, but my grandpapa didn't trust him to make anything he'd have to wager a life on. I'm not sure how he stays in business when he can't be getting that much of it. Grandpapa always thought he had some sort of secret benefactor. Anyway, when I was born that dagger was made for me up north, and when I had Mildred, Walt went up north and had hers made by the same smith. We keep them with us at all times."
"They're quite a treasure. Such a shame that Mildred's lost hers."
Mildred's eyes grew wide as she met Auros' gaze.
Avandur turned to Auros, surprise on his face. Realizing the implication froze the words on his tongue.
"Say it."
Before Avandur could recover, Mildred leapt from her place on the couch and stormed away down the stairs past another woman coming up. The woman turned to watch Mildred, then glared across the room.
"What's come over Mildred?! Who upset her so?!" When she saw Auros rising from his seat, she froze for an instant before settling into an expression of restrained indignation.
Edith rushed to the woman. "Kate, this is the Elf I told you about. The one who kept our husbands from hurting each other last night." As if there were other Elves in the alehouse at the time. She brought the woman over to the couch for introductions. Unlike Edith, Kate was as fresh as if she'd spent the last hour under a waterfall. Hints of perfumed soap shook free with a curtsey. She was of slighter build and similar stature, but carried herself with a haughtiness that said she knew youth hadn't yet forgotten her. The words her name evoked might've been accurate if not for that blatant vanity. Any similarity to elvish would've been ancient or coincidental anyway. Auros allowed her to grasp his hand, and he smiled and bowed, but pretended not to understand her less enthusiastic words of appreciation.
Avandur glanced at him, a look that said he'd noticed recent queries had been coming on the heels of his translations. He also had enough sense to keep that to himself. "She's thanking you for helping Edith and apologizing for her husband and brother-in-law."
The twitch in the woman's jaw could've hidden behind a blink. She had a dislike for Sindarin. It made Auros curious, but not curious enough to pry too deep. "Tell her it was my honor as a knight to render aid."
Kate made no reaction that indicated she understood the words, just that she disliked the language, but once Avandur said "knight," her eyes lit up and an ingratiating smile defaced her otherwise pleasant features. Its appearance introduced some rather familiar elements to her face. She apologized for the refreshments and offered to fetch something "more befitting." After several polite insistences, she accepted the refusal and they settled back into seats. The smile didn't subside, however. It took a lot for Auros not to leave in disgust, and more to maintain a polite expression.
"Ask if Walt ever spoke about his past." He studied both women as Avandur posed the question.
Edith squeezed her handkerchief again. "He mentioned a brother. That's where he wanted to take me and Mildred when—"
One of the serving women poked her head over the banister. "Ma'am, the merchants want to discuss the price of oil for the new lamps."
Edith excused herself and hurried down the stairs. Once she was gone, her sister grabbed a cup and poured from the pitcher. "We're getting new lamps. The lampmaker swears they'll light the hall better than our torches. I'm not convinced, but Edith says it'll be much better, and insists it'll reduce our costs. I suppose we need that, since that husband of hers won't be disappearing and reappearing with money from who-knows-where anymore."
Avandur shot a side-glance to Auros, like he was asking permission. With a slight nod Auros signaled to proceed. "Forgive my saying so, but you don't seem to like Walt much."
"That man was always talking about this place he wants to take Edith and Mildred. Good-for-nothing always running off and leaving m— leaving his family, showing up when he feels like it, thinks a few coins here and there mean anything." She took a large gulp from her cup. "Walt hid things, and he went away for months at a time, came back with money got who-knows-how. Probably some shady dealings, and if I could prove it to Edith I'd have convinced her not to take any of that ill-gotten gold, husband or no!"
As she took another gulp, light glinted off a yellow gem at her waist. Auros whispered into his cup. "Ask about her dagger."
Avandur caught sight of Kate's sash, then took a long sip of mead. "That's quite a dagger you have, just like Edith's and Mildred's. She told us how valuable they are."
Kate looked down at her sash, then pulled the dagger out with a satisfied grin. "It was a gift. My Garth wanted me to feel like part of the family. He's solid and dependable. He always does exactly what he's supposed to do." Again with dismissiveness. Her husband's qualities were useful and that was the extent of her consideration. "Not like that Walt who flashes that brilliant smile of his and expects his wife to melt into those chiselled pillars he calls arms. And she does, the fool! I told her she shouldn't, that he'd never learn his lesson that way, but she wouldn't listen. But anyway, you want to see my beautiful dagger, don't you?"
She held it just out of reach while she turned it in her hands. Everything about the way she did it told how much she liked showing off what other people couldn't have. More's the pity that the craftmanship was excellent. The price for such quality wouldn't have been a trifle for a simple hunter. A dragon wound itself around the hilt, with the foreclaws joined to hold the jewel at the pommel. The smith who made it had impressive talent, but something was off about the way the jewel sat. Before Auros could lean in, she slid the dagger back into her sash. The show was over.
"Mildred must be inconsolable over her dagger."
"So that's why she's so upset! I wonder what happened? It's quite a valuable gem. Walt bought it for her, not that it fixes him being gone all the time."
"I'd like to speak with Garth. Do you know where he is?"
The smile that appeared managed to be less pleasant than the one Kate already wore. "Hunting, more than likely."
Setting his cup down with as much restraint as he could muster, Auros rose from the couch. "We're done here for now. Thank her for the hospitality and let's be off." Once outside, he looked down the street left and right. "'Always running off and leaving his family.' She almost said something else. There was a note of jealousy in her voice when she said it." Suspicions coalesced around Kate, Garth, and Walt. "She didn't seem to hear about me being a knight until you mentioned it. Edith already knew, so word traveled around the village. Odd that she wouldn't know, unless— are you listening?"
For the first time, Avandur's mind appeared to be elsewhere as he threw himself into the saddle. "She didn't do it."
"You'll have to be more specific as to which 'she' you mean." Although he could guess.
"Mildred. She didn't do it." Of course.
"I can't prove that, and so far it doesn't look good. There's a chance that gem we found in the alley was from her dagger. Why else would she not have it?"
"She didn't do it, Auros. I know."
"And what evidence do you base that on?" Auros turned to Avandur, studied him, then grinned. Grinning turned to laughter. "She asked for your help, didn't she? Of course she did, and you decided it best not to say a word to me! She fluttered her eyelashes and you swore yourself to her cause. She's the one who discovered Walt's body, and the first thing she did was run to you. Not the reeve. You. That's how you knew Ben was lying. That's why you decided we didn't need the reeve's permission. Am I close?"
"I couldn't know if you were really going to help." His gazed wouldn't lift from the back of his horse's neck.
"You could've told me before we started our interrogations. You could've told me everything she told you. Knowing helps me ask better, more pointed questions. It helps me better gauge responses. It helps me not sound like I'm accusing someone who asked for help. Your omission could cost us. More importantly, it could cost her. Did her mother know?"
Avandur stared at the floor. At last he showed a hint of something resembling guilt. "I don't think so. She said she couldn't go to anyone else. I'm sorry. I... I didn't trust myself. I wasn't sure I could be impartial. I needed to know someone was looking for the truth, but I'm more certain now." He looked up at Auros again. "I may not have as much experience as you, but I know cold-blooded when I see it, and she's not."
Oh, how rich! The Dunadan had taken a detour from his revenge to aid a damsel in distress. If only Farothel knew what he was missing. He would have a hearty laugh once he finished chastising Auros for taking so long to think of important questions. Questions that, if his cousin were there, would've come to mind much sooner, because he would've had a partner.
"A maiden bats her eyes and you Hildor trade common sense for a false notion of invincibility. May I never be so cursed! Lucky for you, I happen to agree with your assessment, but I still can't prove it. If we're going to achieve that goal, there can be no more surprises. No late revelations. If there's anything you haven't told me yet, tell me now."
"No. I've told you everything I know now."
"Good. Now we need to find Mildred. Had I known she was a witness I could've asked the important questions already."
"What do you mean she's been arrested?!"
If the doorward had a collar sticking out over his tunic, Avandur would've grabbed it. The doorward was well aware of that too. He took a step back and answered with all the conviction of a fish on a spear.
"Mildred's been identified by a witness."
"What witness? Name him!"
"That's not my place. Speak to the reeve."
While Avandur argued, Auros studied the doorward. He also studied the two guards pacing in the corner, and three more gathered in a chamber to the side. Pooling together the sum total of their conviction wouldn't have been enough to convince a man that fire burns.
"We want to speak to her now!"
Auros put a hand on Avandur's shoulder. "Can't you tell he's no happier about this than you?" He pointed to an open door. "Have him bring her to this room. We'll be waiting."
With four chairs and a round table in the center, the room was small but serviceable. An old woman flitted in, set down a pitcher and three glasses and left just as quickly. Auros took a seat across from the door, glaring and drumming his fingers, waiting for the guard to fulfill his assignment. Each measured tap was a hammer on the anvil, keeping rhythm while he considered the next strike. A few minutes later, a guard knocked and guided Mildred into the room, ostensibly bringing a prisoner to interrogation. His manner was more reminiscent of a young man escorting a nervous maiden to a dance. Not that it put her at ease. With a wave Auros dismissed the guard. Avandur took over and brought her to the table. Of course he sat next to her and encased her hand in his. Auros gave her a minute to sit with that comfort.
Before the inquiry began, he poured a drink and set it next to Mildred's free hand. Since she spoke Auros' language, Avandur wouldn't need to translate. "What happened?" Long, dainty fingers plucked at the frayed threads of her sleeve cuff. She refused to look away from it. "I know you understand me. I can't help if you don't tell me the truth."
She turned to Avandur first, then looked at Auros. She spoke better Sindarin than many a Dunadan. "He was already dead. He wasn't moving." Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "My dad's dead and they think I did it!" The next blink set those tears free.
"Do you know who named you to the reeve?"
"No! After I left you with my mom I took a walk to get air and they grabbed me!"
Questions. He needed the right questions. "Start from the beginning. The very beginning, when you left the alehouse last night."
Mildred wrapped her hands around the glass and took a sip. "After we closed, I went looking for my dad. I was worried after that fight with my uncle. They always fight when he comes back from one of his journeys, but it's never been that bad. Afterward he usually ends up falling asleep somewhere quiet. My mom doesn't know because I sneak out to find him so she doesn't worry. It doesn't usually take long, and once I find him I wake him and he comes home. A tap on the shoulder is all it takes. Last night, he was in that alley. I've never found him there before. It's too dark, that's why I didn't come upon him until almost dawn. He didn't wake up when I tapped him, so I shook him gently, then again harder. I saw the blood, and that's when a man came out of the shadows and trapped me against the wall, grasping at my sash. I couldn't pull my dagger free fast enough, and as I fought to draw it I realized he was grabbing for it too. The whole time my dad didn't stir. There's no way he wouldn't have saved me if he were alive."
"You're sure the attacker was a man?"
She nodded at her sleeves, watching them as if the memory played out on the fabric. "He was tall. His face was covered, but his hands were large, and rough and calloused... and they were man hands. His eyes had this... this desperation in them." Putting it to words brought her fear back fresh. She shuddered as she grasped Avandur's hand again.
"He didn't reach for anything else? Your coin purse? Anything?"
"N-no. Just my dagger. I fought as hard as I could. He got it away from me, but I got away from him. I hid until I saw Avandur riding by. I wasn't sure who else I could trust."
"Did you hit your dagger against the wall in the struggle?"
Mildred's glare intensified on her sleeves. Auros could hear the flame dance on its wick. At last she raised her eyes. "No. I'm certain of it."
"How did you know you could trust Avandur?"
"I..." She took a deep breath. "I just knew. I don't know what he has against my dad, but I could tell he was a good man the moment he rode in. He was stern and determined, sitting up on his horse, but he also looked like he knew the importance of honesty, and justice, and keeping his word. He wouldn't hurt someone who did nothing to him, and my dad did nothing to him." Quite an amusing certainty. Avandur seemed surprised, by that and by the realization she'd figured out his target if not his purpose. His body shifted like it braced for weight. "I wanted to go to the reeve, but..." She gripped Avandur's hand as tears welled up again. "Everywhere I looked, I saw those eyes: the reeve, the people examining my dad, the carpenter across the street. I wasn't sure who I could trust. They were everywhere, except on him, or on you. That's why I needed air. I couldn't believe you'd think I..." Tears welled again.
Auros drummed his fingers. Nothing she said sounded like a lie. None of her mannerisms hinted at dishonesty. He had the details of her father's death, but not yet a motive. There had to be one. As he drummed, something Mildred's mother said came to mind. "How long has your father planned to take you and your mother away from this village?"
"Well, he's talked about it for the last few years."
"As long as he and your uncle have been fighting?"
"Almost, but this time he said we were leaving in two weeks." Mildred took a sip of water. "My dad used to tell me he knows what it's like to be cast out, but where he wanted to take us, we'd never have to worry about that. In the past when he talked of leaving, Aunt Kate would convince my uncle to apologize and things would go back to normal, but this time something made my dad adamant about it."
"It was your uncle who started the fights?"
"Yes, but neither of them would talk about why."
"And your aunt is the one who would convince your uncle to smooth things over?"
"Yes. Sometimes with my mother's help, though I'd think as much as she dislikes my dad Aunt Kate would be happy to see him go." A thoughtful expression settled on her. This odd dichotomy wasn't a new ponderance.
"And what did your father think of your aunt?"
She stared at her cuffs again. "The last few years, he's been avoiding her as much as he can. He tries not to be anywhere she is unless me or my mom are there too."
Auros drummed the table again. "Have you told the reeve any of this?"
"He hasn't come to question me. They put me in a room alone and I've been sitting there ever since. The candle they gave me is almost burnt out."
"Stay here until I return." Auros stood up and Avandur followed suit. "Tell the guard outside I'm making him responsible for this woman's safety. He's to treat her as he would a guest, and if anyone, even the reeve, harries that duty, he's to tell them they'll answer to me."
While Avandur issued orders, Auros stalked to that overbright room at the end of the hall. The reeve sat in his chair, leaning back with the satisfaction of a cat who'd snatched a bird in flight. Between the door and the desk, Auros caught hints of perfumed soap lingering in the still air. Had Avandur not caught up in time, Auros might've forgotten to temper himself.
"Ask him who named Mildred as the culprit."
The reeve kept the same posture as he answered Avandur's translation. "Ben."
"And where is Ben?"
"I released him."
"You released him."
"Yes." The reeve let silence hang in petty exhibition of his position. Eventually, he leaned forward and placed a chunk of a yellow gem on the desk. "Where you failed, I succeeded. After some strenuous convincing, he surrendered the culprit. He described the weapon, told us how he saw her in the alley struggling with the victim and smashed the pommel against the wall. Then he gave us that. He was ashamed to admit snatching it off the ground and running for his life rather than saving Walt. He planned to sell it. Even broken, a gem that large could fetch quite a sum."
Shame. That was the weight Auros had seen on Ben. But not for this. There was something else. This accusation was a distraction, assuming Ben had even made it. Doubt of that didn't just gnaw him, it clashed fork and knife against its plate demanding seconds. He studied the gem and found nothing special. It appeared to be the missing half of what they'd found in the alley. "Did you find her dagger?"
The reeve cast Mildred's dagger onto the desk like a bone to a stray dog. As a smith and a knight, Auros took greater umbrage with the mistreatment of such a well-crafted weapon than any affront to his own honor. He snatched it up and slid it from its scabbard without issue, then back in. The blade was clean and oiled. Mildred may not like the idea of drawing it, but she'd tended it well. As with her mother's, vines entwined hilt and scabbard. Auros looked at the pommel. Two things he noticed at a glance. First, no blacksmith's mark lay at the bottom of the socket. If that too was like her mother's, that meant the mark had been cut into the gem itself. The second, only a fool would miss. He set the dagger on the desk, pommel facing the reeve.
"Tell him this, and make sure not one hint of my ire is lost in translation." The reeve's desk creaked under Auros' weight as he leaned close. "If you were half as good at your job as you are at looking smug, you would realize the gem was pried from that pommel. There's no scoring or deformation from impact, you fool. The setting's bent outward." Avandur repeated him in the reeve's tongue. "That didn't quite sound like what I said."
The Dunadan let a grim smile slip through. "I might have added a few epithets that I doubt are in your vocabulary, just to make sure he got your point."
Chastisement was futile when Auros felt the same way. "Ask him again where Ben is."
Avandur asked, but the reeve remained silent. He was either a fool or complicit. There was no middle ground left. Glaring into those smug eyes, Auros realized why the alewife's sister-in-law had such aggravatingly familiar features. He pushed away from the desk and paced until he caught a flicker in one of those cursed lamps casting blindness down the hall. The air was a little different there. It was fresher, and a stronger hint of perfumed soap hung in the space. The lamp flickered again. He put his hand behind it and felt a breeze between a pair of bookcases. The gaps were just the right size for a hidden door.
"It's rather interesting he didn't hinder our interrogation of Mildred, all things considered." He turned towards the Dunadan. "Do you throw daggers?"
Avandur's shoulders twitched upward. "Throw daggers? Not really."
"It's good practice for when you don't have a bow. Line up with a target, try to hit the bullseye. It's more fun with friends, but a bit of practice alone doesn't hurt. Sometimes we try it blindfolded. If it hits the target at all, it's a victory."
"Are we planning to throw daggers now?"
"Something like that." Auros' glare fixed on the reeve. "I bet the reeve's never had to walk up that hallway himself with all these lamps lit. Ask him if he's ever tried it."
The reeve gave no response to Avandur's translation.
Even when the magistrate was an unsavory person, the guards were usually good men trying to make a life for their families. So far that held true for this village as well. "I would imagine the guards find it difficult to approach his office. Very difficult. Tell him that."
Still no response.
"Of course he has nothing to fear from me. I was just thinking that if there were another way in, they'd rather use it. Then again, if there were another way in, there also might be good reasons not to tell them about it. Surely they need not know about every visitor, or every visit. Or every time he must leave to... conduct village business."
His hands twitched on the desk as Avandur repeated Auros' words.
Auros' hand rested on the base of the lamp. With a soft scrape it turned until its beam fell on the reeve. "As the only alehouse for leagues, I imagine it's rather well-known by the men of the village as well as nearby herdsman and farmers. Mildred and Edith are very pleasant women, so I would imagine they're well liked."
The reeve's eyes narrowed and the edges of his mouth took a slight dip.
Another lamp turned towards the reeve. "I imagine some of those men who frequent their alehouse have a daughter about Mildred's age." While Avandur translated, Auros walked to a third lamp and turned it. "A couple of the guards look to be rather idealistic young men. Eager to rush to the aid of a damsel in distress."
A fourth lamp scraped into place, and Auros snuffed out one lighting the room. Even with curtains drawn back, it was dim enough to see the path light cut from the lamps to the reeve. Auros turned to face him. "I wonder if any of those men know how short your investigation was before you laid the blame on that innocent young woman. That's why you haven't questioned her yet, isn't it? You can't close the book too early or people will ask questions, so you sit here feigning deliberation of supposed evidence. Maybe you won't charge her after all, once you've achieved your goal? Some last-minute revelation that proves her innocence? A relation who can speak on her behalf? Or condemn her, if she proves too troublesome."
A bead of sweat ran down the reeve's cheek.
"I commend siblings who look out for one another as they should. It'd be all too easy for an attractive woman to garner sympathy by convincing any open ear that she's the victim of a plot by her less cunning brother. Such a thing would never enter a sibling's mind. No matter who else they betray, no matter what secrets they know, they don't forsake each other. Not like scorned lovers. Sometimes it doesn't even take scorn, just a better opportunity. But you know Kate better than I."
The reeve sat straighter in his chair. "Whatever happened to Walt, I had nothing to do with it. I'm not responsible for Ben either."
Auros turned the fifth lamp's beam right into the reeve's eyes. "Where is Ben?"
There weren't many places left to look without light blinding him, so the reeve's gaze intensified on the dagger with as much dignity as he could still muster. "There's a fork in the stream about a mile south. Follow it and you'll find his house."
Avandur didn't bother translating the reeve's response. "I know that fork. I passed it on my way into the village."
"Good." Auros turned back to the reeve one last time. "Tell him he might want to leave Mildred be until we return." He lifted the cover on the second lamp meant to light the room, snuffed the flame with his fingers, and left the reeve pinned by five bars of light. He was already mounted by the time Avandur exited the reeve's building.
"Just thought I'd drop a few hints to the guards." Avandur leapt onto his horse. "I was thinking, Mildred's dagger was taken and the next time it's seen the gem is missing. Maybe the gem was taken to replace the one that was broken."
Auros nodded. "Aye."
"So shouldn't we find out if the village has a jeweller or check with the blacksmith for anyone trying to repair a socket and question them next?"
"No. I don't like the way the reeve denied responsibility for Ben. We need to find him first if we can."
Avandur glared at his horse's neck. "If he played any part in harming Mildred then he deserves what he gets."
"If he's involved she'd be better served by a confession."
"If you say so." A more somber, curious expression settled on Avandur. "Why did you ask Mildred how she knew she could trust me?"
"It seemed like a good question at the time." Vercalussë surged to a gallop down the main road and out to the stream.
The sky had become one large cloud by the time Auros and Avandur galloped along the streambank. It wouldn't be long before all restraint vanished. No thunder would offer warning when its fury unleashed. No lightning would streak the sky. It would be one drop, then two, then time to find a boat.
Half a league from the village they came to a small fork whose banks appeared to be cut by shovel rather than water. Following it led them to the edge of a cliff. Auros peered over the edge, but other than a pool some forty feet below the angle offered little view of surrounding terrain. Backing Vercalussë from the edge, he looked both left and right of the stream. On one side a copse of close-knit trees fanned down the steep slope. A man couldn't fit through those trees, let alone a horse. On the other lay a worn path with a smoother descent. The choice was to take the path, or what was no doubt a very long way around.
Auros steered Vercalussë towards the path. "There's only one way down. Be wary and be ready to draw your sword. I hope you know how to use it."
Avandur's eyes narrowed. "I know which way the sharp end goes."
"If we find ourselves in an ambush don't take on more attackers than you know you can fend off."
At the bottom the path skirted the pool and followed southward, ending at another cliff with no path down. Ripples from the waterfall above lapped grass on the shoreline. Another waterfall spilled from the southern cliff through reeds and emptied the pool into a new stream that carried on to wherever its route led. Across the pool the cliff bent around, forming a wall shielding this little hollow from the west. The thick copse of trees at its crest ensured no one could claim the high ground against those below. A small hut nestled into the bend. Not far from it a large shed was built against the cliff wall. Flames danced on a bonfire in the center of a large ring of dirt.
Avandur's gaze roved around the hollow. "Did Ben do all this himself?"
Among the reeds Auros found a narrow ford. "I doubt he cut the hillside, but if even half is his own doing, he has more talent than most. At the least he knows how to pick a location. Only one person can cross at a time unless they want to swim. Sneaking around behind him is difficult and approaching from the front is controlled. If he has a means of escape as well, this sanctuary is complete."
"You sound impressed."
"I suppose I am. It's not often I see this level of thought employed to protect one man's home."
Once across, Auros dismounted and put his hand on his hilt, surveying everything. Still as it seemed, it might as well have been an arena for the tension permeating the air and soil. The bonfire's smokestack didn't so much as waver on its way upward. Several large beams marked the borders of the shed, supporting a roof wide enough to ensure only the most persistent wind would force rain to reach the anvil and forge. Racks of forged tools lined and braced the space between them, save for a wide gap in the front where a door would be expected.
Avandur slid from his saddle. "This is a lot of work for a man who cleans refuse from the street."
"Clearly that's not the limit of his ability. I wonder how he controls the flood. This pool is primed to overflow right to his door in a heavy downpour." Like the one whose scent hung in the air. Auros set his eyes on the fire.
"His hut makes the buildings in the village look like mansions. Although, his forge and anvil look as good as the village blacksmith's. Maybe even better."
"A man's entitled to live how he chooses. We're not here to critique his carpentry. We're here to speak with him, or look for clues." That familiar feeling crept up between Auros' shoulders and dug in. Each step towards the fire pulsed warning. "Stay wary."
Charred bits of linen lay folded over at the circle's perimeter. Glowing lines of red still ate at pieces closer to the flame. A pile of clothes lay near the fire. Auros pulled off the topmost garment. "It's a shirt. A man's shirt." Blood stained the sleeves inside and out. "This is too big for Ben." He brought it close to his nose. Beneath blood and hints of ale, a sweet, not quite floral scent gripped the fabric. "It's the same scent as Walt's shirt, but stronger, like it's been exposed longer, or closer. I'm confident this was worn by Walt's killer. Based on the dried blood in the sleeves, it probably ran down the killer's arms. In fact, I'd be willing to bet this is a pile of the murderer's clothing waiting to be burned. Everything has blood on it."
Avandur took the shirt and sniffed. "Why didn't the killer just step back once the dagger was in?"
"She couldn't risk he'd somehow manage to survive. She had to drive it in deep until he was too weak to fight."
"She? What makes you... Oh." He couldn't argue with the long, flowing laced kirtle Auros held up.
"Ben is involved, but he didn't deal the killing blow. There's only one place I could've smelled the scent on that shirt, and he wasn't there."
"The alehouse?"
"Aye. Do you still have any of those leftovers?"
"I should." Avandur rifled around in his pack until he found a thick cloth. Opening it revealed a chunk of beef shoved between a couple of rolls. Avandur frowned. "This doesn't prove Mildred's innocence."
"It offers doubt." Auros touched his finger to the sauce stuck on one of the rolls and brought it to his nose. "The baste. That's what I smell. It's the sauce used to baste the bull. The shirt doesn't smell like beef, so the scent would have to come separately from the cooking. I know a chef and I've seen how those ingredients are prepared. It's very easy to get them in and on clothes. Making enough to cover a whole bull, it would be almost impossible not to."
"So someone from the kitchen is the culprit."
"Aye, and only one person exposed to those ingredients in their original form carries a weapon capable of inflicting such a wound."
"Kate!"
"Exactly."
"So that should do it then. We can prove Ben and Kate killed Walt. Can't we?"
New suspicions coalesced as Auros sifted the pile. Kate had been here. If the goal was to burn these clothes, they should've already been burned. They hadn't, which meant she wanted them found. Ben must've been trying to burn them once he escaped the reeve, but he'd barely begun so he couldn't have wandered off. Someone interrupted him, and that had to be the person Kate wanted to find the clothes. The reeve's denial of responsibilty suggested Ben was in danger. If Ben was an accomplice, the simplest way to silence him would be...
Thud. Thud.
The sound of boots against wood planks echoed from the hut. Avandur and Auros turned to face a large man emerging from the depths.
"Isn't that the man Walt fought last night? Kate's husband? What was his name?"
"Garth." The man was certainly built like a fortress: broad shoulders and a thick core built by dragging home the bodies of animals twice his size. Instinct wrapped Auros' hand around his scabbard, thumb pushing up on the hilt.
"Do you think he heard about his niece?"
Auros glanced back at the shirt. "I don't think that's why he's here." Hunting indeed, and Ben was the quarry.
Garth lumbered from the hut as Avandur approached, a stutter and sway in his step. Either the previous night's revelry had yet to wear off, or he'd had reason to drown himself in ale very early. Or something stronger. Firelight flickered off something behind his leg. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his free hand.
Avandur took a step forward. "Hoy, Mr. Garth! We've found some evidence to prove your niece's innocence. We can tell—"
Auros slammed into the Dunadan just in time to knock him clear of the axe-head cleaving his former position. The instant they hit the ground he rolled over to regain sight of Garth. "You won't be getting through to him. He's not thinking clearly at the moment."
"Why?"
Auros stood up, then pulled Avandur up with him. "I can think of a few reasons, one being that he's intimately familiar with that pile of clothes. Their wearer, rather, and he's not happy Ben might be too."
Garth lumbered towards them. Auros took a step back and Avandur followed.
"We're going to run out of space to back away. What's the plan?"
"Right now, don't die." Auros pushed Avandur out of the way and dodged in the opposite direction as Garth charged them.
"Draw your sword and block it!"
Auros took another step back as Garth wheeled on him. "I don't have time right now to teach you everything wrong with that." The axe swung at him again. "Just stay back." Auros pulled his sword, scabbard and all, from his baldric. Another swing came down. He dodged the blow, kicked the haft just missing Garth's hand, then chopped the back of the man's knee with his scabbard. Garth didn't stumble and his grip on the axe remained fast. "Bah." Auros leapt away just in time to avoid a hand clenching around his throat. Garth lunged forward, turned the axe over and swung the flat end of the head like a mace. Auros dodged again.
Avandur drew his sword. "Don't you elves wear armor that turns blades?"
What absurd...? Auros scowled as he dodged another swing. "It still very much hurts to get hit!" Not to mention a wood-axe was much thicker than a sword, and Garth's swings were much too accurate for a drunk man.
"I thought you were a skilled swordsman. Shouldn't you be able to end this quickly?"
"Just stay back!" He could end it quickly, if he wanted Garth dead, and almost as fast if he wanted to cripple the man. Garth was deliberate and swift, and were he attacking a less controlled opponent he would already be dead. That was his flaw: Auros had too much time to think. If the man had wanted them dead, he would've targeted Avandur. The Dunadan was green, and Auros' attempts to protect him would put both at risk. Instead, he went after the one who could end him before he knew it happened. The man wasn't so drunk that he couldn't see straight, he was lost in wrath and despair and had every reason for both. Pain and emptiness were all that shone in his eyes. He wanted it to end, but Auros refused to be his executioner. On the other hand, he couldn't dodge indefinitely.
Another axe-swing dodged, a crack to the arm, and nothing. A boot to the chest wasn't enough to make Garth stumble. His grip remained fast. Another swing tore through the air. His breathing remained steady. His attacks didn't slow. Bah, the number of times this man could've been dead. Any one of Auros' strikes should've hurt, but Garth didn't so much as grunt. Options ran low.
Before Auros could put a hand to his hilt, Ben limped from the hut clutching a knife. Garth was too focused on Auros to notice Ben lunge and grapple onto his back, digging fingers deep into flesh. Garth bucked and the knife destined for his neck bit into his shoulder instead. Ben hurtled to the ground as the axe followed suit. Before Garth could seize it with his other hand, Auros leapt at him, caught his good arm and pulled him down. Despite the struggle, Auros at last got leverage and pressed a hand into the man's shoulder.
"This is your last chance to come to your senses." Bah, his opponent didn't understand anyway, but he should understand his situation. Most did, and yielded soon after they were put in this hold. They knew what resistance could bring; but those were sparring matches. Sparring was meant to be walked away from. Garth pushed, twisted, bucked, and fought, and didn't seem to care he could injure himself worse trying to escape. Holding him wasn't any more of a solution than dodging, and despite the knife buried in his other arm his hand was nearly on the axe again. Left with no choice, there was a sound like pulling bark from a tree, a howl of pain, and as Garth went limp, one last whisper of misery spurted from his lips.
"Why?"
Avandur drew closer. "Such a small word to enshrine so much betrayal."
Every muscle in Auros' body demanded to shudder. He pushed away the urge as he pushed away from Garth. He'd never had to do that before, never had to go that far. Ever. He'd practiced that hold with such frequency and careful control until it became second nature, until he could neutralize a threat without injury. Until that moment, the hold was the end. Going through with it... the why didn't make it easier. Perhaps it was a strange reluctance from someone used to bloodshed. He threw the axe towards the anvil and put his knee on Garth's shoulder. "Get that rope over there and tie his hands behind his back." Auros glanced at the man's boots. "Tie his feet too."
Garth was secure and unconscious, and no longer a concern. Auros turned his attention to Ben. The gash in the man's side had soaked the cloth tied around it. His breathing grew shallow as he lay staring into the sky, eyes glazing, whispering the same words over and over. "She's mine! Not his. Mine! She came to me! She's mine not his. Mine not his." Each chant carried less certainty and more desperation.
Avandur grabbed Ben's collar and yanked him up. "What did you do to Walt! What's you're part in this!"
Ben's head dangled limp. What strength he had left he reserved to cling to every last moment. "I sacrificed for her. Me, not him! Everything I did. Everything I gave up. My hopes! My dreams! I could've been a great blacksmith, if only that stubborn old fool would've given up his shop. If he didn't have something on the reeve—"
Avandur let go and the impact cost Ben a full breath. "It's no use."
Kneeling beside the dying man, Auros took a nearby strip of cloth and patted Ben's brow. He'd heard enough of the Hildor's tongue. He should be able to speak it. "You don't have long. No one can save you, but you can save Mildred. We both know Kate killed Walt."
The only sound coming from Ben was his increasingly rapid breathing.
"She desired him, didn't she? She thought if she had enough time, she could take him from Edith, but then he wanted to leave and she got angry. She's used to getting what she wants, isn't she? If she couldn't have Walt, no one could. So she came to you. She knew you loved her, and used that against you."
Panting hastened.
"You took Mildred's dagger and Kate used it to frame her for Walt's death. If you've done nothing else right by anyone in your life, at least help me save Mildred."
The man tilted his head and looked at Auros, then past him. Silent words moved his lips as tears welled in his eyes. His strength waned and shame held him prisoner. Shame of the lies he told himself. Shame that he believed them. Shame of his own weakness. That shame would take him to the grave in misery and silence, and silence wouldn't help Mildred. Anger. Fury. Revenge. Justice. Purpose. All were better to die with. Auros leaned closer.
"Do you think that reeve cares if an innocent woman suffers? Do you think Kate will mourn you if you keep her secret? How do you think Garth found out? She told him, because she knew he would do this. The reeve used you, Ben. She used you. Don't let them win."
Light once faded found a new source. Ben's eyes focused. His chest rose one more time, pulling in as much air as he could. His arm lifted from the ground and stretched a finger towards the anvil. Then his body ceased its struggle, his breath sighed out, and his chest failed to rise again.
Auros closed the man's eyes. "May you find some peace beyond the Circles of the World."
Avandur turned his head and spat. "He deserves a shallow grave, not pity."
"I can despise his failings and mourn his loss of chance to amend them. He goes to stand before those 'capricious judges', and his last act was to help us save Mildred."
"All he did was lift his arm."
The first droplets drummed on the hut's roof. Auros sighed. "Put Garth on your horse. It's about to rain and he doesn't deserve to be left face down in the mud."
The next wave of raindrops splashed down in the pool. While Avandur tended to Garth, Auros put Ben in a chair next to the doorway of the hut, then dug a cloak out of the clothes pile and wrapped the rest within. Once that evidence was secure he went to the shed. Ben gave them the clue: something about the anvil proved Mildred's innocence. He had to figure out what. Rows of tools on the racks were better quality than an amateur would've produced. "He was a master blacksmith," he muttered, "and if he's remembered at all it'll be for destroying lives."
The expected torrent loosed its rage as Avandur darted to the shed. "If he was this good, why was he a street cleaner? Edith said they'd been trying a long time to get a new blacksmith."
"That would be a very good question for the reeve." Maybe it wasn't the anvil.
"But why would he stay? He could've gone anywhere else."
"If he could afford to, and if he dared. A talented man isn't always a brave man. You said yourself it isn't always safe alone in the wilderness. In the beginning he probably stayed because of Kate, at least while he held any such aspirations. With your people it's always a woman. At some point he was foolish enough to think he could win her admiration, but that was a victory even the man she wed couldn't claim. If she'd succeeded with Walt, I doubt he would've fared any better."
"Look at these." Avandur picked up a set of jeweller's tools. "You said the gem was pried out of Mildred's dagger?"
"Aye." Auros nodded but didn't look down. Something about all the axes, picks, and shovels...
"He must be the one who pried it out, which means he must've put it in Kate's dagger."
"Aye. I thought something looked odd. The gem didn't sit right in its socket."
"So we have enough now, right?"
"Perhaps, but I don't want to risk that she can talk her way out of it. Even if Garth testifies, the next reeve still might pin it all on Ben and leave it at that. I want enough evidence that she can't explain it all away. Had Ben survived, I suspect he might've had a more compelling testimony. The reeve's account might not have been so far off, even if it didn't come from Ben himself. He was given enough truth to maintain believability. Ben likely came upon Kate as she struggled to drag Walt into that alley. That's when Kate... convinced him to help. He served his purpose, but was a long-term liability."
Avandur focused a thoughtful look on the jeweller's tools in his hand. "I suppose that's how she intended to get away with everything: make Garth look like a jealous husband. But why pin it on her own niece?"
Auros shrugged. "Coincidence? Convenience? Leverage to make sure Garth went along with taking the blame for Walt's death? Besides, he is a jealous husband, inasmuch as any spouse would be in his circumstances. What do you think he and Walt have been fighting about that would've become so violent? Garth must've had some sense of what was going on, but blamed the wrong person. All those fights were history and motive. Kate knew how to enlist Ben's aid, how Garth would react, and that she could expect the reeve's help. She knew how to make use of the people at her disposal."
"I wonder what the blacksmith has on the reeve."
A sigh almost escaped. Auros didn't miss these kinds of conversations with Farothel. "If I have to unravel every untoward relationship in this village I'll never be able to leave. Let's be satisfied to prove Kate is the murderer, the reeve is a fool, and leave it to the villagers to figure out the rest." He closed his eyes. His focus was too broad, comparing all the tools to find a commonality he could use. That just blurred everything into a forest. He needed to pick a tree. When he opened his eyes, he focused on one tool: a hammer right in front of him. There it was. He plucked it from the rack and pointed to a mark centered on the head, just above the haft. "Look at this."
"That's the brand we found on Walt's thumb. I guess that means Ben made it."
With his free hand Auros pulled the parchment from his pocket and held it close to the hammer. "Aye. It matches. He must've grabbed the dagger and couldn't change his grip. The edges of the blacksmith's mark dug into his skin."
"I still don't know what it's supposed to be." Avandur squinted at the lines. "I guess all we have to do is prove Kate's dagger was made by Ben and not give her room to pin all the blame on him. You think Garth will testify?"
"I think his choice is to protect the wife who betrayed him, or the daughter of the sister he loved enough to stand with in defiance of his parents." Auros looked at the anvil and grimaced. "This little hideaway was a lifetime of work, but it won't long hold its state without attention. How many more rains like this until no proof remains of his talent? Maybe he really was a miserable sort of man. Maybe we only saw his worst day. Most people don't mourn the man, they mourn that his job remains undone. How many even know his name? How many spoke it with any fondness? I doubt anyone will speak it fondly now. Such is the consequence of his choice."
Pensiveness settled on Avandur. He spent several moments staring at the body slumped in the doorway of the small empty hut, its only company the beating rain and the vanishing evidence the man had ever been alive. The pool consumed ever more dry land as waves lapped closer and closer to the hut. He watched until their horses responded to Auros' whistle and they rode off, leaving the hollow to the whims of nature.
Three days later, Auros returned to the alehouse one last time. Lanterns dangled where torches once burned. Servers and cooks milled about. Uncertainty hung in the air; whether that night would be like all the others remained unclear. While the firepit was lit, no meat yet hung over it.
The staircase at the back creaked and Edith appeared. "At last— I'm sorry! I thought you were the hunter come with tonight's catch." Red still colored her eyes, but as tired as she looked, she brimmed with an energy that feared the consequences of pausing for the slightest of moments.
Auros bowed. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Not at all, and I see you're no longer a stranger to our speech!"
"I speak it well enough. I wanted to more fully offer my condolences. Your neighbors laud Walt's kindness and generosity. I've even been told they wished he could've become reeve now that your old one has been deemed unfit. By all accounts, he was loved by all, and I'm glad that the way I met him isn't the way he'll be remembered."
Edith clutched her apron. "Thank you for that. Would you like to sit for a moment? We have a couple of chickens prepared. A warm meal is the least I can offer for saving Mildred and bringing my husband's spirit peace."
"Regretfully I must decline. It's time we were on our way. We just wanted to see how you and Mildred were faring."
Edith exhaled as her gaze journeyed the room. "It's a lot to take in. I never would've expected this of Kate. She almost destroyed my entire family. All this coming to light about her, and the street cleaner, and the reeve. I'm not sure what to make of it all, or how to sift the gossip from the truth. I really thought she loved my brother, but after what she did to him... I don't know what's to become of Garth, but Mildred and I will be all right. If you or your traveling companion pass through again, please stop by for a warm meal. My treat."
"It's a very gracious offer. Thank you."
As he turned to leave, Edith stopped him. "Just a minute. Daisy!" One of the servers scurried up with a sack. "The closest town is three days' ride northeast. After all you've done, the least I can do is provide meals to get you that far. Walt told me that would've been our first stop." The last word almost caught in her throat.
"Again, thank you." Auros bowed again. "Do you think one day you'll follow the path he intended?"
Tears had almost won that time. She took a deep breath. "Perhaps. Today though, our village celebrates a new reeve. I don't know what you two seek, but I hope peace is at the end of your trail."
Auros nodded and emerged from the alehouse just as Mildred pulled away from Avandur. Her dagger sat at her hip, jewel restored by Auros, hilt no longer trapped under a layer of cloth. Avandur leapt into the saddle the moment she pulled away. Before she scurried inside, she gave Auros a smile, a curtsey, and a thank you in Sindarin.
Pretending not to know the two had been engaged in minor distractions, Auros hoisted himself onto Vercalussë's back and sighed. "So."
Avandur stared at his horse's mane. "So?"
"I overheard the local artisans wonder at receiving a hidden trove of quality tools. They said they haven't had so good in ages."
"Ben can't pay his debt in life, but maybe what he left behind can still be of some good, even if no one remembers him."
Auros nodded. "We have a destination and provisions to get us there. Hunting won't be such a dire necessity."
"You were right."
Haste would've sounded like an accusation, so Auros let silence sit three full beats. "About?"
Avandur let out a breath, then patted his horse's neck. "About many things, but we'll start with patience. I should've wanted to find Walt's killer. Not because we have a new lead, but because it was right. And you were right about Mildred too. How did she notice me the day I rode in? She said I was a good man. What do I do with that... that... faith?"
"All you can do is try to be worthy of it." Auros' eyes darted side to side, then he turned to the Dunadan, face like granite. "If you ask me though, I think she might be too dangerous for you."
Somberness fell away as wariness furrowed Avandur's brow and narrowed his eyes. "Is that some sort of warning?"
"Aye. Don't let your arms and lips make promises the rest of you can't keep." He wasn't sure what proportions of humor and admonition were mixed in those words or his last.
For a moment, Avandur's glare softened, his brow unfurrowed, and a small smile appeared. "That was one of my father's last lessons, actually. I told her she needed time to mourn, but I'd return when my task is done. If her heart has changed when next we meet, then I'll wish her the best life. If it still turns towards me, we'll take counsel together."
"Well-reasoned. Just keep in mind she won't have so many years as you."
Vercalussë sped to a trot. With a tap of Avandur's foot his horse followed suit.
"Aye. I wouldn't ask nor expect her to wait beyond hope of children."
"I would also suggest you remember your quarry is her uncle. An uncle she's never met, but family nonetheless."
Avandur sighed. "All the more reason for her to forget me."
"What about you forgetting her?"
He grimaced. "I wish... never mind."
The skies may have been sunny and clear, but a deep shadow lay on the road ahead of the young Dunadan, and for some of it at least, Auros had vowed to travel alongside him.