The city of Bree was built thousands of years ago upon a crossroad between two rival kingdoms, Arthedain and Cardolan. Once upon a time there had been only one great kingdom, Arnor, but after the death of king Eärendur a civil war had broken out between the king’s sons and the kingdom was split in three. The weakened realms had been easy pickings for the Witch-King of Angmar, and the once mighty kingdom of Arnor had fallen into ruin and oblivion. As millennia passed the north slowly became a mostly desolate, inhospitable wilderness, but for some reason the city of Bree had survived and managed to thrive as a settlement of Men in the north.
Bree-land was full of old, crumbling walls from that era, and the Oldstone Ruins had once been a location of special meaning for the Men of old, though that meaning had long been forgotten by the current inhabitants. But there was great power in such sites. Places like these were practically holy to the Dúnedain, but the Oldstone Ruins were also a powerful symbol of the self-destructive nature of Men and all his achievements. The ruins beckoned Demrîng, drew him there like light draws a moth and gave him comfort.
One day soon Sauron would rule over all the world and finally there would be a lasting peace.
When Demrîng returned to the Oldstone Ruins that evening he sensed a presence there. A presence of someone who should not have been there.
”Good evening, Delioron”, he said.
Delioron stepped into the moonlight from the crumbled wall he had been hiding behind. Demrîng noted the ominous silence and the dagger in Delioron’s right hand. The two men stared at each other for a long minute. Demrîng smiled. His eyes were big and child-like, but completely empty, devoid of life, soulless.
”This is how the game is played, is it not?” he asked. ”You have waited your victim in the dark, knife in hand. The victim comes in, you step out of the shadows, the victim is surprised, scared. You wait and stare me down without saying a word, pushing me off-balance. But you are not here to kill me, because the rules of the game would be different then. You want to coerce me into doing or saying something you think I would not voluntarily do. So what is it, old friend? Or do you want to cut me first to further make your point?”
There was a flicker of amusement in Demrîng’s eyes, and something else too. A warning.
”There are no rules”, Delioron said. ”Tell me about the false Parthadan in Minas Tirith.”
”So now you want to talk? I come to you, save your life, offer my help and friendship, and you clam up like an oyster. Talking to you is like talking to these walls out here. But now, finally you want to talk to me. This is good. I think we are finally making progress. Better late than never.”
”Tell me about the false Parthadan in Minas Tirith.”
”I do not know anything about Minas Tirith or your masters there, but obviously someone sent all these assassins here from Gondor. Rangers of Ithilien, like I have told you already. There is a game being played, and somebody trying to set you up for the murder of the old Dúnadan is somehow linked with this business the Rangers of Ithilien are engaging with the criminal underworld of Bree.”
”How is it linked?”
”This I don’t know. A man from Gondor impersonates you, and then he tries to kill you. He is a Ranger of Ithilien. So this false Parthadan you talk of, he must be connected with the Rangers as well.”
”And you want to help me. And Parthadan. What for?”
”Who can understand the mind of a Variag, Delioron?” Demrîng asked smugly. ”Even I can’t, and I am one. I have known only one person with a mind more twisted than mine, and that person is you. But I want this thing exposed, this thing the Rangers of Ithilien are doing here in Bree. After I have found out what’s it about.”
”Why?”
”Because why not? To damage the relationship between Gondor and the Dúnedain. In a few years there will be a great war between Mordor and Gondor, and the less allies Gondor can rely upon then, the better.”
”Then why not go to the Dúnedain yourself? Tell them what you know.”
”Are you serious?” Demrîng scoffed. ”You would have me, Sauron’s envoy, go to the Dúnedain with this story? Do you think they would believe me? What do you think they would do to me?”
Delioron didn’t say anything.
”Or what if you went to the Dúnedain with this story? Would that make any difference? No, it would not. Because you have no proof. You don’t even know what is going on. They would not believe you either. But if we worked together to find out what’s behind this all, if we found the evidence, then they would have to believe you. And this would cause a rift between the relations of the Dúnedain and Gondor. Maybe you don’t like it, but it is the only way for you to survive. So we have common interests in this matter.”
Delioron remembered the meeting in the Thirsty Seer Tavern more than three months ago. What had Parthadan said about establishing a better relationship with the Dúnedain, or soiling their relationship with Túrher and the Rangers of Ithilien? Was that all there was to it? The old rivalry between the Warden of the Green and the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien? Then why were people dying?
”What about Paladin Took?”
”I know nothing about Paladin Took. Is he the reason you were sent here? I have told you everything I know, I have gone out of my way to help you, I keep no secrets from you, yet you still refuse to share. What about that woman? Did you take care of her?”
”Yes”, Delioron said flatly. ”I took care of her.”
”Good”, Demrîng smiled. ”I am proud of you. Maybe you had developed feelings for that woman who betrayed you, so killing her will only make you stronger. We are not all that different, you and I. You should join me. Sauron would reward you for your talents. Your… strength.”
”What do you know about Paladin Took?”
”I know that he is an important person of a race of very small men known as hobbits. A race I had never even heard of before I came here. I know that somebody tried to kill the hobbit in Staddle. A known thug from Bree. I know that money changed hands, I saw how the false Delioron gave a pouch of coins to a dark man who then went to the last house before the Gatekeeper’s lodge, where thugs and ruffians congregate. Is that it then? Did the Rangers of Ithilien pay to the ruffians to kill the hobbit? Why not do it themselves? Because they want to link the deed to the ruffians? Makes me wonder what exactly makes these hobbits so important to Gondor. There is a question I would have an answer from you.”
”This whole thing could have been cooked up by Sauron.”
”Sauron?” Demrîng sneered derisively and spat on the floor. ”Really, Delioron. I am disappointed in you. You cannot possibly be this stupid, so maybe you are just trying to provoke me for some kind of twisted fun. If we had set up your masters in Minas Tirith, why would I tell you? Why would I save your life and then have you killed? What possible gain would there be for Sauron to destroy your master when Denethor would only replace him with another spymaster?”
”Perhaps with one secretly loyal to Sauron?”
”Perhaps, old friend”, said Demrîng. ”Your favorite word when you don’t want to say anything. Why don’t you put your knife away now?”
Delioron stood still for a moment, then concealed his dagger.
”Do you believe me now?” Demrîng asked, tilting his head askew.
”Perhaps”, Delioron said. And then he was gone.
