Lilleduil rode through the night and the all next day, stopping at intervals to rest Braigsul, who endured the journey well enough. The next night they rested in a clearing beside a mountain stream and the following day found them entering the gate of Ost Ringdyr in the early afternoon.
Tinnugost was with them, as he had been close enough to summon when Lilleduil departed. The warriors in Ost Ringdyr were not of the Enemy by any means, but given that they’d locked Thendryt up, she didn’t necessarily consider them friends at this juncture. The big saber cat she’d found in Angmar was one of her most trusted companions and she had wanted him at her side riding into such a delicate situation. She’d almost hoped they’d run into an Angmarrim or two on the way-the cat loved killing them more than anything-but their journey was unopposed and uneventful.
The bugle of an enraged stallion sounded as they came into the courtyard, and Lilleduil frowned, for she thought she recognized that bugle.
“Bovad,” her own horse confirmed for her. She rode over to the stables and dismounted, but left Braigsul outside under the shade of some trees, his girth loosened. Tinnugost remained with him, the cat knowing how badly most horses reacted to his presence.
It wasn’t hard to find Bovad, when she stepped into the stable-the sound of a plate-sized hoof repeatedly striking the wall of the stall could be followed easily enough. Her nose wrinkled when she came to the stallion’s stall, which had apparently not been cleaned in days, though he did have a filled water bucket and hay rack.
“Bovad…” Lilleduil crooned softly, and the huge warhorse spun around to face her, startled. When he saw her, he nickered imploringly.
“The Master…”
“I know. I’ve come to get him out. Let‘s get you ready to go.” She unbolted the heavy latch and threw the stall door open. Bovad rubbed his huge forehead against her chest in thanks, nearly knocking her down in the process.
“Hey there! What do you think you are doing! That horse is dangerous!” A stableman cried out in fearful protest and came running down the aisle as Lilleduil led Bovad out of the stall with naught but a hand wrapped gently around a piece of his thick, coarse mane. She paused to look at the man, hefting her staff once by way of warning.
“So you were just going to let him drown in his own shit?”
“We couldn’t get in the stall. No one could get near him without him trying to savage us!”
“Yes, I can see that he’s totally uncontrollable.” That wasn’t exactly fair, she knew the man was correct-Bovad could be intransigent at the best of times and downright dangerous at others, though Ladrochan could handle him. But the horse’s distress had angered her, even though she knew the stablemen were not responsible for that. They had at least made sure he was fed and watered.
“Bring the Watcher’s tack, barding and saddlebags to the mounting block,” she commanded, then without waiting to see if the men obeyed, led Bovad outside to the little stone platform.
“Stand here and don’t bother anyone,” she told him. “I don’t need any trouble, if we want to get your Master out.” Bovad bobbed his head once in assent and stood quietly as she went to fetch her own brushes.
The stableman, who was apparently an under groom, returned eventually with the Stablemaster in tow, their arms laden with Bovad’s heavy war saddle and armored barding. They watched in amazement as the little slip of an elf groomed the dangerous warhorse, who stood docile beneath her hands without so much as a rope about his neck, turning and moving as she directed him, while she stood on the block and brushed him until he shone once more.
“Bring those things over here-I need your help,” she told them when she was done and when they hesitated, snorted, “He won’t hurt you while I am here!” Though she was deceptively strong for her size, the bulky weight of the barding was awkward, and Bovad‘s back was level with the top of her head. The men came cautiously forward, but when they found she was speaking the truth assisted willingly enough, eager to get rid of the problem horse.
When she had determined that all was in order, Lilleduil scratched the war stallion’s nose, which was about the only part not covered in armor. “Go stand over there under the trees with Braigsul and wait for us,” she directed. “And don’t give these men any trouble.“ The stablemen watched in amazement as Bovad walked right over to Braigsul and stood beside him. The two stallions touched noses in greeting. They were not exactly friends, but from long association they certainly got on better than two uncut males usually did.
“Take a flake of hay over there and a bucket of water,” she told the stablemen. “You’ll be fine so long as you don’t touch them.“ A gesture brought Tinnugost bounding over from where he’d been lounging beneath the shadows of the trees close to the wall. The men, not knowing he’d been there, started back in fear when they saw him.
Lilleduil walked over to Bovad and Braigsul. “I won’t be long,” she told them. She certainly hoped that would be the case!
“Are you the person in this place who is responsible for the disposition of prisoners?”
Lieutenant Unferth had watched his visitor keenly as she entered office, though he was puzzled as to the reason for her presence. Small, with the straight-backed posture and grace of a dancer, the richness of her attire had caused him to think first that she was just another rich brat from Imladris with romantic fantasies of fighting the Enemy in one of the places He was strongest. Such brats usually came back in pieces if they came back at all.
But when she neared his desk, he revised his opinion. That was very expensive, but also well-used and well-maintained light armor. And the staff in her hand was worn smooth at the grip from long use. Also, it did not escape his attention that her flinty grey eyes had flicked about the room upon entering, establishing the layout and that she didn’t face him directly, but stood turned slightly to the side so as to catch movement from behind peripherally.
And then there was the huge saber cat, of a variety he’d never seen before, bigger than the ones one encountered in the Hithaeglir. It had uncanny blue eyes, which were regarding him speculatively in a way he found extremely uncomfortable. The staff, the presence of the saber cat, and her grimace of distaste and refusal to stand upon the bearskin rug before his desk all cried Loremaster, of the sort who employed the creatures of the wild as allies. In Unferth’s experience, Loremasters ran the gamut from scholarly ineffectual to damned dangerous. He suspected this one was the latter.
“I am,” he answered her.
“Then I am to give you this,” and she leaned forward to push a sealed letter across the desk to him. Unferth broke the seal and read it. His eyebrows lifted. When he was done he looked up at her.
“And your name is?” he asked by way of confirmation.
“Lilleduil. Of Imladris.” Unferth nodded.
“Are you sure you want that Man out of the dungeon, lady?” he asked politely.
Lilleduil smiled, a flash of white teeth that held no true warmth. “Yes. Large, surly beasts are a specialty of mine.”
Unferth shrugged. If one of Lord Elrond’s sons was crazy enough to want the Man back, it was no skin off of his nose. He moved over to the shelf where the keys were kept and began sorting through to find the right one. “Truth be told, I’m relieved you’re here to take him away.”
“And here I was afraid you had all become emotionally attached to him,” the elf said with a light, cool laugh, her fingers playing gently in the hair around the saber cat’s ears.
Having found the key, Unferth came back, he seated himself and looked up at her flatly. “There’s no attachment to that Man here,” he declared. “He’s hard to get along with.”
The Loremaster’s eyes narrowed. The ear scratching stopped and the cat immediately came to attention, its eyes fastened on Unferth, who regarded it uneasily.
“That isn’t a crime, as far as I know,” Lilleduil said. She had noticed Unferth’s unease and a small smile played over her lips. “Which begs the question as to why he is jailed in the first place.”
Lieutenant Unferth’s eyebrow went up. “You knew he was jailed but not why?” Inwardly, he kicked himself a moment later, because the answer was obvious. Of course. She has birds too. A bird saw him taken into custody, but nothing else. Apparently, the Watcher has been being watched!
“I came here to find that out,” the Loremaster said, with a sigh that spoke of patience being much put upon. “It is in the letter. But I suppose we can sort that out on the road.”
Taking the hint, Unferth slid the key towards her across his desk. “We didn’t see much of him.”
“People generally don’t.”
Unferth snorted. “I can see why. But we heard plenty. Still, the higher ups were never happy with the way he did things; too brutal.”
The Loremaster’s brow lifted like a bird taking flight, but she did not comment.
“I never saw him fight,” Unferth continued, “but if what I’ve heard is true… I’d stay away from him if I could.”
“You would have to go far to find someone who hated the Angmarrim more,” Lilleduil said, seemingly undaunted at the prospect of spending time in Thendryt Morson's company. She looked down at her intimidating companion fondly. “Except perhaps for this fellow.” The saber cat stared at Unferth, licking its lips meaningfully. He gave it a concerned look. Another of those small, amused smiles crossed the Loremaster’s lips, but her tone was suddenly brisk and dismissive when she spoke.
“In any event, thank you for your cooperation, Lietuenant…?”
“Unferth.” Lilleduil inclined her head in gracious acknowledgement
“I’ve sorted the horse out, I’ll deal with the Man now. Good day to you.”
Unferth suddenly realized that he’d not heard the damned stallion bellowing for a while now. He found himself smiling at the prospect that they’d soon be shed of Thendryt Morson as well and feeling quite warmly disposed towards Lilleduil of Imladris. “Just tell the guards you spoke to me and you shouldn’t have any problems, Lady Lilleduil. Good day.”
Lilleduil bowed politely and departed with her dangerous friend. Relieved, Unferth went back to his paperwork.
