The journey to Ethring was almost a holiday for Khahaynd. Not needing to use her skills to disguise herself, Zir or Tarih, she felt overflowing with energy and expectations. Only one rider passed her, and he riding a swift bay horse, and dressed like a messenger bearing the Steward’s livery. He did not stop at the sight of a beautiful woman garbed in brown silk gown and head covering, riding a noble black mare with silver mane and tail. Nor at the large black cat that paced at her side. She thought he must be extremely dull or carry something extremely important. She would find out which quite soon, she thought with a small smile.
Ethring itself was a bit of a disappointment. It was just a village, with small houses and stores on both sides of a river. The Crossing Hall was a fine enough building, but the rest was mostly wooden huts. And the people! She had not come across such hard eyed, stoney-faced folk before. Yet Tanneth, the baker, was a different sort. Obviously a full-blooded Gondorian, Khahaynd was a little hesitant in approaching the dark haired, pale skinned woman. But Zir liked her and he was a good judge of character.
And again she bore the appearance of an old, silver haired woman, and Zir that of a shaggy hound, that none took much notice of them.
“Come in, old Mother,” Tanneth had said, almost wrapping her up in her own thick woolen shawl as she ushered her into her shop.
The two customers ignored her, and once the tall, thin, sandy haired Man had finished serving them, they left.
“Close the shop if you will, Nathoron. I need a little time undisturbed with our guest.” said Tanneth.
The man smiled at her, then inclined his head to me. “I hope you had a good journey here, servant of the Lady. If there is anything you require of us, just say.” And with that he went through one of two side doors, and Khahaynd saw him no more till the next morn.
Tanneth had continued to ‘mother’ the woman from Umbar, sitting her down on the one comfortable chair, putting down an assortment of cakes and spiced bread, and hurriedly making an apple tea. She went out the same door as the man, and returned a few minutes later with a large bowl of water and a dish of chopped cooked chicken, which she set before the dog. She patted him, and said “I am sorry you have to bear this form, Lordly one.”
“You see him..you see me as we are?” Khayand asked, with curiosity rather than alarm.
The dark haired woman nodded. “It is one of my gifts to see through illusions, though I can also create quite a few.”
The man, Nathoron, turned out to be her husband of some years. Tanneth told her guest he would see to her worn out old pack horse / swift hunter, and groom her and provide her with food and water.
“We are so pleased to know something is happening at last, you see,” Tanneth explained.
Casting off her travel cloak and scarf, Khahaynd settled down to rest, but she had questions.
“Ask, and I shall answer what I can.” her hostess went through the side door again, and returned with a large cooked fish on a plate. “From the river. Nathoron is good at catching fish. Now eat what you want, and tell me if there is anything else you require.”
Khahaynd asked about a bowl of water to refresh herself with first, and Tanneth almost winced visibly at her oversight.
“About the people here first,” began Khayand. “They seem silent and surly. They were far more open in Linhir. Is aught wrong in this place?”
Returning with a flower petal scented bowl and a thick clean towel, Tanneth set them on the central table, then stood back.
“There is a difference. Several folk in Linhir are sympathetic to our cause. Many are sick of this Steward’s rule and would see him deposed as soon as possible.”
“This Steward. But would they rally to his son, Boromir? I have heard report he is a different kind to his sire?”
Tanneth poured herself a cup of apple tea, then made to sit on the rug near the small hearth. “They might,” she replied thoughtfully. “He is well liked. But then some folk think the Line of the Stewards has run its race, and we of Gondor need new blood, stronger blood to rule us. But more to the point for us, those in Linhir look to Balakhôr and his brothers, not our Lord.”
Khahaynd smiled slightly at the mention of that name. “That does not surprise me. He has made his name known to many, the strength of his arm, and of his armies. He brags and boasts that some are carried away by his rhetoric. But unlike our Lord, he is unwise.”
Tanneth chuckled, her eyes sparkling a moment. “Have you ever met him, Lord Azrazôr, I mean?”
The Umbari woman shook her head. “He is wise beyond wisdom, and keeps low and hidden unless it is urgent. It is safe for me to remind you that his aunt has very many servants and spies in Gondor, and that he himself will make his power and majesty known, when he is ready. Then the steward and his sons may quiver in fear. Nay, sister. We must bide our time a little while yet, but our Lord shall ascend to his rightful place just as surely as the sun rises. Lord Sauron wills it so.”
Tanneth clapped her hands together in eager approval. “Soon enough we shall be able to walk openly, and not have to hide away from those without wit or will to know the best path.”
“That is true. But before we speak further, is there a messenger with a bay horse resting here? I have business to conclude with him before nightfall.”
