The pouring rain west of Bree finally stopped, but the sky remained cloudy and gray. Elwil and the man who called himself Demmon were sitting face to face by a campfire, eating roasted squirrels on sticks and drinking wine from Demmon’s flask. Elwil felt more secure now that she had grown accustomed to his company. In spite of his oddness there was something gentle and disarming about the man, something about him that made him easy to trust.
Demmon had been very convicing when he had explained the seriousness of the situation to Elwil. He had told her that a Dúnadan had been murdered in Bree, and the murderer was the man with whom Elwil had arrived in town. A man whom Delioron had later killed. Demmon’s voice was as mild as his words were harsh.
Demmon knew about the Rangers of Ithilien who had been camping on top of the Bree-hill for weeks, one of them for much longer time. The Dúnedain noticed and kept their eyes on such things. Demmon had been observing Elwil, Delioron and the Rangers since the day he had found his Dúnadan friend murdered in his home. It seemed clear to him, Demmon speculated, that Delioron and the Rangers of Ithilien had now reached some kind of an agreement. And part of that agreement meant that Elwil had to die. Demmon watched Elwil as he said it to her. She seemed to tremble but she did not look away.
”Elwil”, he said. ”It is your survival that interests me at this point.”
She looked into his big, gentle but strangely empty blue-grey eyes and did not trust him. But what else could she do if she wanted to survive?
”What do you want from me then?” she asked.
”First you must tell me everything you know. Why are you here? Who sent you? Why are the Rangers of Ithilien here? What do they want?”
Elwil told Demmon everything she knew, starting from the day two years ago in Minas Tirith when she had met a man whom she had thought at the time to be Parthadan, the Warden of the Green. She talked about Bragol and their mission to Bree to investigate a man called Delioron, who was suspected of selling secrets to Sauron. She talked about how her world had suddenly turned upside down when she had realized she had been lied to from the very beginning. Suddenly Elwil had found herself caught in a complex web of lies and secrets where nothing was as it seemed, where she could not separate lies from the truth or friends from enemies. Perhaps everything was a lie, everyone an enemy. She talked about the things she had heard Delioron telling to Greengage in his house, about the man called Sharkey who was thought to be the shadowy leader of Bree’s underground, and the plot to kidnap Paladin Took, a reputable and wealthy hobbit from the Shire.
Demmon listened quietly as Elwil regaled him with her story. He did not ask any questions or interrupt Elwil before she had stopped talking.
”And you don’t know the reason why the Rangers of Ithilien are here?” Demmon finally broke the silence that had fallen between them. ”You don’t know why they would be collaborating with the ruffians of Bree?”
Elwil shook her head. Demmon picked his teeth with a sharp bone, ruminating quietly for a moment.
”Last night”, he said after a while, ”three Rangers of Ithilien took their horses and left Bree behind. They are riding along the Great East Road westward – towards the Shire. Only one was left behind on the Bree-hill. A little after that Delioron returned to Bree from his trip to Archet and went to that big stone house that must be the one you spoke of earlier. Some time later a man came out of that house, fetched a horse and rode out of Bree – towards the Shire. Not Delioron, an older man – Greengage, I suppose. And now you want to go there too. Everything seems to be moving west.”
”How do you know all this?”
Demmon smiled. ”A little bird told me.”
Elwil was silent.
”I know the hobbits”, Demmon continued, ”I have friends among them. They can hide you in the Shire, so that Delioron or the Rangers of Ithilien can’t find you there. I will escort you to them safely. But you must help me first.”
”Why?”
”If you help me, I will help you”, said Demmon. ”I must know what the Rangers of Ithilien want. And Delioron. I may need your help in finding it out. Then I will get you to safety.”
”I can’t help…”
”But you must. You owe it to us, to the Dúnedain, to the people of Eriador. You came here from Gondor to spy and kill. Maybe you did not have a hand in what happened to my friend, but you are partly responsible. A debt must be paid before I can forgive you.”
”I don’t understand.”
”We are sworn to protect these lands. To protect the Men of Bree, and the Hobbits of the Shire. You have told me that some ruffians from Bree want to kidnap a wealthy hobbit. And I know that the Rangers of Ithilien are working together with the ruffians, but I do not know why. Whatever their plan is, we must prevent it.”
”And you want me to come with you to the Shire to prevent it?”
”Yes”, said Demmon. ”Into the Shire. Or maybe Buckland. Wherever they are going. Same difference, really.”
”And what do I get in return?”
”Assurance of safety”, Demmon said. ”You can live safely in the Shire for the rest of your life if you want. Or come with me to the north. Nobody will ever find you there.”
”But what if we fail? You said it yourself… there are three Rangers there. And only two of us. What if they kill us? Or you?”
Demmon frowned at the thought, as if Elwil was a child who had just said something inappropriate. ”If we’re dead, we’re dead. Then everything ends. And if I’m dead and you’re alive, then you’re on your own again. It’s not my concern what happens to you after I’m dead, now is it?”
Elwil sat quietly, considering all that the man had told her. She felt cornered by him, cornered by his words, but all his words rang true. It was not a matter of being a traitor to Gondor. It was a matter of her own survival.
