The months had been long, the leagues longer, since Captain Teahesto last set foot in the valley of Torn-en-Aduial, let alone beheld the manor named Torech Besruth, the Lair as it was called. As he rode down the switchback trail that led to the flat greensward by the riverside, he took in the sight of the grand and elegant Elvish manor – now marked by three black spires that soared high above the gables and the roof. He had been greeted at the threshold by the mistress of the manor, the Lady Seregrían, clad in black robes and hood and pensive in her words.
Seregrían had welcomed Teahesto not unkindly, given their previous acquaintance. They chatted welcoming words in the Grand Hall of the manor, with a toast of wine from Her Ladyship’s private stock. Teahesto had begged her to speak with him in private, where no other ears could hear them. Seregrían led him to a chamber where, facing an ornate bookcase set into the wall, she spoke with commanding tones; the bookcase slid open to reveal a hidden passage, with stairs leading up into one of the towers. The two elves ascended to the Sanctum, the private study and chambers of Seregrían herself, where few had seen and fewer still were welcomed.
”Here in the Sanctum, none can disturb us,” Seregrían said. “Speak. What are these tidings of so dire a nature? And why should I worry?
“You should sit first, hiril nin,” Teahesto said. “Please follow me in this.”
The black-clad elf sat in the chair at her study, partially hidden behind a pile of books and scrolls. Seeing there was no other chair in the room, Teahesto sank to one knee and offered her his hand. She looked at the outstretched hand, then at his face. He waited, unmoving.
“You are trying my patience, what do you wish, ellon?”
“Take my hand. Please, Seregrían, trust me.” She looked sidelong at him, then took his hand.
Teahesto folded his hands around hers. “I have news that Cutch is still alive; and is in need of our help.”
Seregrían froze, her eyes beginning to harden. “Cutch Crane lies dead, buried in an unmarked grave in the Shire. I have seen it myself. My news is proven - can you say the same?”
Teahesto produced a parcel of letters, five in all, bound in ribbon. “These are the first part of my proof.” Seregrían took the letters, undid the ribbon and began to read.
“What is this? First the Common Tongue, then a hand in an Elvish script, back and forth between these?”
“The top four letters are from Cutch's mother – a Dúnedain lady – to her sister, excitedly describing the elf she had fallen in love with and intended to marry.”
“A - a Mortal? Who loves an Elf!?”
“The last is from his father, asking to take in his infant son - Cutch - for the child’s safety and protection.”
Seregrían shuffled through the pages one after the other, as Teahesto explained. “Cutch was raised by his aunt and her husband in the Wildwood. He never knew who his parents were, until recently; but his paternal grandmother, his father’s mother, is most definitely of the Eldar.”
“Cutch… had Elven blood?!?” Seregrían lurched from her chair and began pacing the chamber, flipping from one page to another, tracing back to a previous one. “And he never knew?”
“Not until Halros, a Ranger charged with keeping watch over the Shire, revealed this to him; and is part of the reason he vanished.”
“Cutch... Is... Alive?!?”
“I am convinced he is, protecting all he loves from afar. That includes you, I deem, most of all.”
Seregrían slammed the papers on her study and reached across the table. She rounded upon Teahesto, and he saw she held her staff, Dondangol, in her tightening fist. Her eyes were slowly changing color from grey to silver – a deadly sign. Her voice dropped a note, dripping with pent rage.
“Now, draw one more breath and tell me why he would do such a thing! No news, no tidings, letting the world - and ME - think him dead!”
“It is because of a threat to him and his bloodline,” Teahesto said, keeping his calm. “Someone wants him and his bloodline to end. That means his children, the ones he would have with you.”
“And just who would want him blotted out? He oft described himself - a nobody, a cipher, someone of no fame or renown.”
"And under this guise, that is exactly who he appears to be,” Teahesto explained. “But whoever is behind the troubles in Wildwood also wants him and his bloodline ended. That would mean you as his wife, and the children you and he would have. The deception of his death enables him to continue to search for and find his shadowy enemy. Halros tells me it was hard for him to do, knowing it would break your heart. But he's fighting for your lives, and your futures together.”
Seregrían fell silent as Teahesto spoke. She carefully replaced Dondangol in its cradle, and when she next spoke without turning, he looked down, saddened at her words.
“It did not break my heart; it hardened it. But it nearly broke my spirit. Much has happened in the months since the news, Teahesto. I have been mocked, lied to, and betrayed by others. My heart has been torn asunder.
“But my House has rallied to my side and supported me as best they may. Dear little Lancogard, the halfling Shirriff - have you met him, Teahesto? He sweetly calls me 'Bainiel', the very first Elvish word he ever heard.”
Teahesto smiled. "He is one of many who love you, My Lady."
“He dotes upon me,” Seregrían went on. “He took it as his personal duty to me to inform me of Cutch's death. He... he showed me the betrothal ring... taken off the dead body...” and her voice grew hard. “He... he took off my ring, and he placed it on a corpse!?” She rounded on Teahesto again, her voice a hiss. “This is how he would protect me!?”
“To convince his enemy that he was dead!” Teahesto said firmly. “To free him to find that enemy. To keep you safe from those who harm you otherwise. And it broke his heart to part with your ring, Halros told me so. He was afraid for you, can you not see that?’'
Seregrían fell silent once again, her eyes darting. 'To keep the deception - what better way to make it beyond question... and the Shire authorities did the work for him. Cutch, dear one, you clever, clever man, you truly are the Black Fox.” Seregrían reached into her robe and pulled out a chain around her neck - with two rings strung in it.
“I saved it. I would not have them destroyed, as is our custom. I knew... somehow... I always knew...'
Teahesto moved to stand before Seregrian. “And now Cutch needs help, and perhaps you have the might and wisdom to do what he needs. For you are indeed powerful, My Lady.”
”Oh, not I alone, dear Teahesto. It is Dondangol that bestows such might as I possess - without its glamour, I am but a librarian.”
“But to bear such a powerful artifact, My Lady, surely only one with power could correctly use it.”
”Wiser and mightier ones than I have told me thus, and I need to be reminded now and again. The staff's might is not of martial prowess, but of lore - it is not a weapon, it is a tool.”
“Then perhaps you and it are exactly what Cutch needs right now: to find knowledge for him, and of him.”
”Tell me more. I crave your counsel, Teahesto.”
