At midnight Greengage was sitting in his living room, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace, listening how the wood crackled and sputtered. Listening to his own heartbeat. How slow it was, how tired. He was waiting to die. He had a large pint of ale on the little table next to his chair. He had drank many pints tonight, but ale did not have any effect on him anymore. He had not much time left in this world. He should have fled, but he was tired – too tired to care. For too long he had called this miserable town his home until, little by little, it had become one. And now it was too late for him to change his ways. If he had to die tonight, there was no other place where he wanted to be than in his own living room, watching the fire.
Earlier in the evening he had gotten a visitor. It was strange because Ruthraon had never come to this house before. It was the agreement they had. They would meet in the Pony, never in the house. But this time Ruthraon had made an exception.
”She got away”, Ruthraon said. ”She killed our man. I don’t understand how she did it. There was no sign of violence or poison, nothing. It was like his heart just stopped.”
Greengage opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. He did not know what to say. ”What can I do?”
”Do?” Ruthraon repeated. ”You can’t do anything. This is our last meeting. Things have gotten out of hand. Three of our men have been killed already, by Delioron and Elwil. It’s only a matter of time before Delioron figures out your part in this game, if he hasn’t already. Your work is done.”
”But… but…” Greengage sputtered.
”I’m sorry, old man”, Ruthraon said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. ”You have done great service to Gondor, and for this reason I wanted to tell you myself. If we had managed to kill Delioron and Elwil like we were supposed to, things would be different now. But we can’t afford to lose any more time or men to tie up those loose ends. We have an operation to finish.”
”What operation?” Greengage asked.
”If I’d tell you, I would have to kill you”, said Ruthraon. ”And I would rather not do that, because you have served Gondor so well. If Delioron manages to get you, he will squeeze out everything you know before he kills you. So the less you know the better.”
”He’s coming after me.”
”Probably. Maybe not tonight, but it won’t take him long now to connect the dots. I don’t know where he is. Or the woman. Take your horse and ride away as fast as you can.”
”Ride? But… where to?”
”Anywhere you want”, Ruthraon said. ”I can’t help you any more, because we can’t pin this on Parthadan now. Trust me, I wish it wasn’t so.”
Greengage held his pint with two hands as if he was afraid he might drop it. ”But Ruthraon… I’m alone here. You have to take me with you. You were supposed to take me to Henneth Annûn when it was all over!”
Ruthraon shook his head sadly. ”It was the original plan, but we can’t do it now. We can’t prove Parthadan a traitor now, because Delioron and Elwil are still alive and missing, so that part of the operation has failed. I’m sorry, old man, but you have to take the blame now. Take your horse and ride away, build a new life somewhere else. Your service has brought glory to Gondor, and your sacrifice will not be forgotten. Goodbye, friend.”
”But Delioron will come after me!” Greengage pleaded. ”He’ll find me anywhere!”
”Not necessarily”, Ruthraon said before he walked out of the room and out of the house.
Greengage would never see Ruthraon again.
He had thought about it, but the idea of escaping filled him only with crushing weariness. He was over fifty years old. He was not a young man anymore. He needed peace. Rest. All these years he had sacrificed for this futile work in this backward town had squeezed his soul empty. He had sacrificed his whole life for this. For the glory of Gondor. And his reward? Death or exile. Take your pick.
After talking to his wife Elanor Greengage went to his living room, put wood in the fireplace and made fire. He stood crouched there, watching the dubious flames between the logs. The fire burned reluctantly. They were birch logs. The birch bark burned with a sputter, but the logs were clearly moist. It started spreading smoke in. Greengage blew into the glowing logs and took more birch bark out of the wooden box.
He stood up when the fire was finally burning properly. He poured himself a pint of ale. And then another one. Greengage had made his decision. When he looked up again and saw a dark silhouette standing on the doorway, Greengage was not surprised. He had been expecting him.
”Where is she?” Delioron asked.
”Gone.” Greengage took his pint from the table and drank deeply, but to no avail. Even the ale did not work anymore.
”Where has she gone?”
”They told me to give her a letter”, Greengage explained. ”From you. To meet you at the Greenway Crossing.”
Outside it had started raining; a cold, merciless winter rain.
”Where is she?” Delioron asked again, with that terrible, grating monotone. Greengage looked up but could not see him clearly. It was like having a conversation with a ghost.
”How did you get in?” he asked.
Delioron did not answer. ”Where is she?” he repeated.
”I gave her the message. Late this afternoon. She went to the Greenway Crossing to meet you. I don’t want to die.”
”Nobody does. She went to the Greenway Crossing to meet me. Somebody else was waiting for her and they killed her.”
”No!” Greengage said. ”She’s alive! That’s what Ruthraon came to tell me earlier this evening. They sent somebody to kill her but she killed him instead. And now they have abandoned me because somebody must take the blame and they can’t blame Parthadan now because you and the woman still live.”
”They didn’t kill her”, Delioron repeated flatly.
”No”, Greengage grinned maniacally. ”Ruthraon said she killed the man they sent for her. He said he didn’t understand how she did it.”
”And who are you serving in all this?”
”I serve only Gondor! My mission was to root out the traitors working for Parthadan, traitors who have sold out their country and become servants of the shadow!”
”In other words”, said Delioron, ”you are working for Túrher. The Captain of the Rangers.”
Greengage looked up at the shadow in the doorway with defiant righteousness in his eyes. ”I was serving Gondor. They explained it all to me, they showed me the documents. It was you who sold out all those years ago in Rhûn when you served as the envoy of Gondor; you sold your soul to Sauron there. It was you who corrupted Parthadan as well. Oh, they are not working just for Túrher; their orders come directly from Denethor! Traitor!” he cried. ”You traitor! I served the glory of Gondor. For every message I received or sent, I also sent duplicates to Túrher in Henneth Annûn.”
Greengage gulped down the rest of his ale and set the pint down hard. He stared at Delioron, who did not say a word. ”Kill me then, traitor. I can accept my fate because I did what I did for the glory of Gondor. Like a soldier who falls in battle. There is honor in such death.”
”Where is your wife?” Delioron asked.
”Elanor? Left, I suppose. I told her that it was over and that somebody would come here to kill me. She did not even try to convince me to leave with her. I hate her and her cow-face, I hate her stinking breath. She never knew about Túrher or the exact nature of the work I did for Gondor. She did not even know about Parthadan. She was just a wife, and a bad one at that. Good riddance! Hunt her down or leave her be, it makes no difference to me. But I have no idea where she might have gone.”
”Where is Elwil?”
”I don’t know. She killed the man who was supposed to kill her and then disappeared. They assumed she might be with you now.”
”Where are they? Túrher’s men?”
”I will not betray them. I will not betray Gondor.”
”But they have betrayed you.”
”I will not betray Gondor”, Greengage repeated defiantly. ”You cannot make me a traitor to my country.”
”But you already are”, Delioron said in a harsh, metallic voice. ”Túrher was never after traitors. He only wanted to destroy Parthadan, for personal reasons. They have always hated each other, always been enemies. Túrher used you to do it. Túrher’s henchmen killed a Dúnadan to destroy Parthadan. He was never a traitor, and neither was I. And now this thing with hobbits. What is the significance of the hobbits, Sharkey and ruffians of Bree? It must go beyond Parthadan. Destroying Parthadan is only to cover their tracks and to divert the blame on him. And on me. So what is the real plot about?”
”Why don’t you come into the light?” Greengage asked.
”The traitor is you, Greengage.”
”That does not make sense. How can I be a traitor when I serve Túrher. We all serve only Gondor.”
”Then why have they abandoned you? You said that somebody must take the blame. If we all serve only Gondor, why must there be a scapegoat?”
Greengage was silent for a while. Then his shoulders slumped and he buried his face into his palms. ”I don’t know. I don’t know.”
”They are not fighting the enemy. They murdered Hodhion, a Dúnadan. An ally. They have tried to kill Elwil and they have tried to kill me. They are mixed up in a plot to kidnap hobbits for who knows what purpose. I cannot believe it’s pure greed that’s behind it. And they expect me to kill you, Greengage. That’s what they want.”
”For the love of Nienna”, Greengage started sobbing. ”I can’t believe the mess I’ve made. All the dead, for… what?”
”Where is Elwil?”
”I don’t know! I truly do not! I sent her to be killed. What madness! How could I not…”
”Where are Túrher’s men?”
Greengage wiped tears from his eyes and looked up at Delioron. A glimmer of hope started to form in his heart. Maybe Delioron would spare his life, if only he cooperated. He wasn’t a real traitor, after all. He had been used as a pawn in the game, just like Elwil. ”They have a camp”, he said. ”On the hill northeast of Bree. I haven’t seen it, but I know it’s there. Somewhere between Bree and Combe. Where they can keep an eye on things. I will tell you everything.”
And he did. Greengage told Delioron his life’s story, starting from his childhood in Henneth Annûn. Delioron listened without a word. When he was finished, Delioron only had one question left:
”What is behind the plot to kidnap the hobbits?”
”I don’t know. Ruthraon said he would have to kill me if he told me that.”
Delioron believed it. Up until that point he had planned to kill Greengage, but suddenly he got a better idea. Greengage would still be useful to him.
When Greengage had finished talking, Delioron stood silently for a long time.
”Greengage”, he finally said. ”I was going to kill you. But I am not going to kill you now. Not if you do exactly as I tell you to do. Pack a small bag and leave this house now. Take your horse and ride out of Bree tonight. Ride west, ride all night, but camp in the woods out of sight during daylight hours. Don’t let anyone see you. Travel like the whole world wanted you dead. Because it does.”
”But why?”
”Because it’s the plan”, Delioron explained patiently. ”The day after tomorrow you should arrive in Buckland. Take a room in the local inn. Stay in your room, don’t go out, don’t open the door to anyone. Come down to the common room when the sun goes down the day after tomorrow. Wait for me there. I will come to meet you in the evening.”
”And if you don’t?”
Delioron looked at him coldly. ”If I don’t, then you are a dead man. And if I come and don’t find you there, you are a dead man, Greengage. Do you understand me? The only way you may live is to do exactly as I tell you to do.”
”And what about… the house?”
”I am closing this house, Greengage”, Delioron said. ”Your period of service to Gondor is over. I am retiring you.”
