Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
19 Tuilë in the Reckoning of Imladris
I must record this day’s events and set them down with all the discipline I can command. Because after today, everything I know, or thought I knew, and believed, is going to change.
Cutch Is Alive.
CUTCH Is Alive.
Cutch IS Alive.
Cutch Is ALIVE!
I have filled sheet after sheet of parchment with those words! Because I still cannot believe the words, even as I write them with my own hand!!
Earlier this day, I was visited by an old acquaintance, Captain Teahesto of the High Kindred. I recall it was he who first gave me the letter from Cutch that sent me back to Bree to hear his intent to husband me. That time, it was an unexpected event – as today has become. Today, here, closeted in the utter solitude of my Sanctum, Teahesto has delivered the news that my betrothed, my Own Bespoken Mortal, still lives and walks the earth.
And such a twisted tale there is to know! For some time, dear Cutch has served as an agent of the Dúnedain, journeying abroad on behalf of the Rangers, using the secret guise of the “Black Fox”. This clandestine errantry sought to discover the identity of a shadowy threat to the lands of the North, and thus he was a target for the foe’s hunters in turn.
And just like a fox, to throw off his pursuers, he “went to ground” as the saying goes – by feigning his own death, having it published in various ways by various sources, so as to deceive the hunters and throw them off his scent. This left him free to operate and seek out the foe in near total secrecy – a deception of both elaborate and worthy skill!
As Teahesto explained patiently - despite my rising wrath at being deceived as well – Cutch, with the aid of the Rangers, dispatched the assassin who was sent to murder him. Seizing the chance, they used the dead assassin as a double for Cutch, altering the appearance to convince all that he was dead. The deception even fooled dear Lancogard who, unwittingly, reinforced the scheme by reporting it to his people and to me personally. So, for four months and longer, I held myself bereaved. I, like all the world, took Cutch for dead.
But in these four months, Cutch has been on a desperate errantry and, according to Teahesto, seeking out those who not only meant him harm, but also anyone connected to him – including, it would seem, myself. This menace in the shadows apparently means to exterminate not only Cutch, but his entire bloodline – which I now learn through Teahesto’s tidings, is revealed to be of Elvish blood as well!
I should have come to that realization long ago, for all the signs were there, plain to see: the visions he had of he and I, together; his uncanny culinary skills; his woodcraft in the Wild; and his patient persistence in wooing me.
But however glad these tidings, I cannot allow myself the luxury of happiness. In fact, I am driven by some dreadful haste of peril. Teahesto reports that Cutch has not been heard of, or from, for some time, and it is feared by the Rangers he may have fallen afoul of his pursuers despite his efforts. So instead of pining away in my tower, I am resolved to give aid to my beloved, such as I can contrive. Teahesto rides east to Breeland, to give the news to Cutch’s circle, then on to Imladris to make enquiry for any word related to Cutch’s lineage.
For my part, I have dispatched Sûlpadron to the Wildwood, to locate Cutch and deliver my message to him: a message of hope, from his bespoken Elf. And hard on his wings, I myself shall depart, bound for Breeland via the Shire – there is a Shirriff to console, that he was bested by the Black Fox…
…my own Black Fox.
Hold on, dear one. Help and hope are on their way.
