Radawen followed Delioron up the flight of stairs with white face and shaking hands. She sat down and leaned her back against the banister. They did not talk in a long time.
”I never thought I would see you again”, she finally said. Radawen sounded almost sad, as if she had preferred her bitter memories to actually seeing him again.
”Neither did I”, said Delioron. He walked over to the banister and peered over it, staring at the back of Nen Hithoel.
It was mid-afternoon. He could feel the pressure of time now, after all these months of being stuck in a timeless limbo. He could not see the boat anymore. Tarîkbên had reached the shore of Parth Galen some time ago. The long wait was over now, but still he felt more chained down than ever before. He could sense Radawen’s presence next to him.
”What are you doing here?” she asked.
”I cannot tell you that.”
”You are playing your games again”, she said. ”That’s all you ever did.”
”Not with you”, he said softly. His voice was flat and monotonous, but still it yearned to convey something to the woman, some emotion. But it could not.
”I had forgotten about you”, she said coldly.
Delioron said nothing to that. He had never forgotten about Radawen. He had loved her, and he could not remember having loved anyone else in his cold, shallow life. And still he had left her because he had been afraid of what might happen to her if she stayed with him. At least that’s how he had explained it to himself. After a while her memory had stopped bothering him, and then she had existed only in his dreams and nightmares.
”What are you doing here, Radawen?” he asked.
”I got lost picking berries in the forest.”
Delioron turned to look at Radawen and smiled. ”If you tell me your story I will tell you mine”, he suggested.
”That’s fair. But are you going to play fair?”
Delioron waited.
”A dwarf kidnapped me last night below the North Stair in Gondor”, she said. ”He wanted me to tell him about another dwarf, a long dead King of Durin’s Folk called Thráin II. At least presumed long dead.”
She watched Delioron, wanting the see the impression her words had made on the man. Her eyes narrowed with focus in the pale afternoon light. Delioron did not move a muscle. He waited, seemingly patient.
”I told him everything I knew, or else he would have killed me. Are you here looking for Thráin as well?”
”Maybe I got lost in the forest as well”, Delioron said, still smiling. He had never forgotten Radawen’s low, husky voice or her slightly crooked front teeth which gave her alluring smile a startlingly aggressive undertone. He had never forgotten about the warmth and openness of her presence, which was in such a stark contrast with his own gray and shallow existence, chained down by perpetual doubt. Two years ago Delioron had saved Radawen’s life, and when she had told him that she loved him, he had fled that openness and honesty into the familiar comfort of his own gloomy, gray, cold world of shadows and lies.
”Play fair for once in your life!” Radawen said, returning his smile. The conversation had returned some color to her cheeks. She leaned forward and hugged her knees to see the man better in the pale afternoon light. She wondered why it was always so difficult to see Delioron, even in broad daylight. It was almost as if he was himself a shade, blurred by all the secrets and lies he had carried in his soul for so long.
Delioron made his decision.
”You don’t have to look further”, he said slowly. Now it was Radawen’s turn to sit still. ”If Thráin is indeed here, we will both see him very soon. But I don’t understand much about this case. You said a dwarf interrogated you in Gondor? About Thráin?”
”He kidnapped me. But he was very polite.”
”Sounds like a real charmer.”
”You have done much worse things.”
Delioron disregarded her words. ”Why was he interested in Thráin?”
”He wouldn’t say. He thought I had killed his friend, lore-master Gulim from Zigil-jâbal.”
”And did you?”
”Hardly!”
”I’ve seen stranger things.”
”I am a scholar in the Houses of Lore and…”
”I know what you are, Radawen.” Delioron’s voice was still flat and monotonous, but there was a hint of gentleness softening the harsh tone. ”Where is the dwarf now?”
”He let me go after I had told him everything I knew. He escorted me up the North Stair, but then he went on his way.”
”He didn’t go very far”, Delioron said. ”He’s somewhere close by, where he can keep an eye on what happens atop Amon Hen. Watching us.”
”I never expected much from this journey. I didn’t even know if I would find anything at all here”, Radawen said after a moment of silence.
Delioron was staring at the lake again. ”There are worse things than being kidnapped and interrogated by dwarves”, he said, still staring at the lake.
”Such as?”
”Being eviscerated by orcs. Two lives have already been taken that way out here. A woman of Rohan and another dwarf from Zigil-jâbal. Something is going to happen very soon. I don’t know what, but it’s all related to a dwarf called Thráin somehow. Thráin, and a dwarven settlement called Zigil-jâbal. Who is this Thráin? It seems I’m the only one who doesn’t know it exactly. I know it’s related to the history of dwarves and Durin’s Folk somehow, but I was never an expert in dwarven lore.”
Radawen told him in her straightforward manner about King Thráin II and his disappearance on his journey to Erebor almost 170 years earlier. She told him about lore-master Gulim of Zigil-jâbal and the letter a raven had carried to Zigil-jâbal, supposedly written by King Thráin II himself, having been held in captivity in Mordor for all these years and now attempting to escape and hide in the ruins on Amon Hen with an unexpected ally; an overseer in Sauron’s dungeons in Barad-dûr. She also told him about how she and Gulim had been ambushed by orcs in the Drúadan Forest and how Gulim got killed by a poison arrow.
”What do you think?” she asked after she had finished her story, but Delioron remained silent.
She looked at the man and suddenly understood that Delioron’s presence at Amon Hen could only mean that Thráin had to be here too. The thought chilled her for a moment.
”Is Thráin here?” she finally asked.
”Probably.”
”Have you seen him?”
”No. I wouldn’t recognize him.”
”Not even many dwarves would recognize him after all these years. He would have to be over 350 years old if he still lives – it sounds incredible!”
”Weird, huh?”
”What is?”
But Delioron did not reply. His mind was racing as he was trying to shake himself out of the mind-numbing routine that had chained him to Amon Hen throughout the long winter. When he finally turned to look at Radawen, his eyes were frozen and his craggy face was filled with deep lines.
”There is danger involved”, he said quietly.
”Of course”, Radawen replied.
”Do you trust me?”
”I do”, she said.
”There is something foul afoot, and I can’t figure out the connection with Zigil-jâbal to anything. There is a trap involved, but I don’t know for whom it is set up or why. Today a man of Mordor, a Black Númenórean called Tarîkbên crossed Nen Hithoel with a rowing boat. No doubt he brought Thráin with him.”
”Should you be doing something?”
”I should”, Delioron said. ”I should be on my way to Parth Galen now to meet them.”
”Should we both go?”
”No. As far as I know, Tarîkbên doesn’t know you’re here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as I can. I think your life might be in danger if Tarîkbên finds out about you.”
”So what do you want me to do?”
”Stay here”, Delioron replied. ”Stay low and hide behind the banister. Try not to be seen by anyone who might be looking for movement atop the ruin. I should be back before nightfall. With Tarîkbên and Thráin or without them.”
”And if you’re not?”
”Flee!” Delioron said. ”Run for your life, and never look back! And never return to this wretched place.”
”Delioron”, Radawen said.
He looked at her.
”I never forgot about you.”
He did not say anything.
”It was so much easier for you”, she said.
Not at all, he thought, but he could not reveal it to her. What could he say to Radawen that did not hurt her further, that did not tore open her festering wounds again?
His silence made Radawen feel ashamed of herself. He should have said something. He should have comforted her. He had allowed her to reveal her heart to him and gave nothing in return. She averted her eyes and looked at the clouds. Why did she have to say these things to him when he replied only with silence?
He touched her, and she looked at him again. He touched his lips with the tip of his index finger. He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. He embraced her, and Radawen leaned against him, feeling his warm embrace around her. They sat like that for a moment, without moving, without words, without a sound, like statues.
”There is much to be afraid of now”, he said, still holding her.
Radawen buried her face against his shoulder. They sat like that for a long time.
