When Radawen left Tilyh in the river‑ward’s widow’s house, she felt as though she were running away. But Tilyh, bitter and harsh, had made it clear that she never wished to see Radawen again.
She had argued with Tilyh, trying to make her understand that staying together gave them the best chance of looking out for one another. She had tried to assure Tilyh that everything would turn out well in the end – that Delioron would find a way to save Si’nol and return him to her.
It did not help that Radawen could not believe it herself. She had not seen Delioron since their arrival in Pelargir; she had no way to reach him and no idea what his plan might be. In her heart, she was secretly convinced that Delioron was already dead.
”He told me he could help me”, Tilyh had said. ”He lied to me. I hope he dies. I do not care about him, or you. Both of you used me. You used my son.”
So Radawen had left the house just before midnight. What would she do now? She would have to find a room in some inn that still accepted visitors at such an hour. Delioron would have no way to find her – assuming he was even alive, which she doubted. He believed she and Tilyh were still living in the river‑ward’s widow’s house. And Tilyh would not know where Radawen had gone after driving her out.
Radawen stared at the clouds. The full moon lit them so that they resembled ghostly meadows and distant mountain peaks.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember him as he had been that last time in Leston’s house in Arnach. She tried to recall the way he looked at her while she undressed, the way his hands had moved over her, the warmth of his breath, the familiar scent of him, the weight of his nearness. She could summon scattered images – she could almost imagine his scent now – but never enough.
She was lost in thought, so much so that she did not see the stranger in black emerging from the alley ahead of her until she almost walked into him. The man wore a black hooded cloak. Radawen felt a scream rising within her.
”Please, Lady Radawen”, said the stranger. ”Do not scream.”
The stranger pushed back his hood, and Radawen recognized the round, pale moon‑face and the blue‑gray, depthless eyes. It was Demrîng – the mysterious prisoner Delioron had fetched from Ost Norhír to aid him. Delioron had told her fragments of Demrîng’s history and their shared past. Radawen did not trust him. Delioron would have said she was right not to trust him.
”Where is Delioron?” Radawen asked.
”There is no gentle way to say this, Lady Radawen”, Demrîng said. ”So I will speak plainly. Delioron is dead.”
The words struck her like a crushing weight. For a moment she felt nothing at all – only numbness. In her heart she had known it already. The grief, the tears would come later; she knew that much.
”How?” was all she managed to say.
”His throat was slit from ear to ear by a man called Mudon”, Demrîng said. ”Death would have been quick and relatively painless. I believe Mudon fancied himself a servant of Gondor’s throne, though a different master pulled his strings than Delioron’s. There is no body – he sank it in the Anduin.”
Whether unaware or simply indifferent to how his words struck her, Demrîng continued. ”I killed Mudon. I questioned him before that. His death was slower and far more unpleasant than Delioron’s. I dealt with his body the same way.”
”Then why are you here? Why are you not already fleeing toward Osgiliath? Or did you come to kill me first – to make sure I could not send anyone after you?”
”Oh no, Lady Radawen.” Demrîng shook his head sadly. ”Mudon had quite a story to tell me before he died. It forced me to reconsider my earlier plans. I think my chances of getting out of Gondor alive are negligible, and even if I managed it, the hunt would follow me. The servants of Gondor want me dead. The servants of Sauron want me dead – the Corsairs and others doing his bidding here in Gondor. No, my best chance of survival is to bring what I know to Delioron’s master in Minas Tirith – Parthadan, the Warden of the Green. That is where I need your help. You are a respectable scholar there. You know the people in power, you have access to places. They are aware of your relationship with Delioron. You can get me inside Minas Tirith and arrange a meeting between me and Parthadan.”
”What makes you think Parthadan would help you?”
”Because of the information I have! I believe Parthadan will be very interested in hearing what I have to tell him. It is my hope that the Warden of the Green can arrange protection for you and me both.” Demrîng paused, staring past Radawen into the distance. ”Perhaps he will offer me the same kind of arrangement he had with Delioron. After all, I have been doing the same kind of work for decades, though I used to serve a different master. I have travelled widely across the Middle-Earth, Rhûn, Harad and Umbar. I still have threads to pull in all those places. I believe I could be a valuable asset for Gondor.”
Radawen rubbed her eyes. She was so weary of men who treated war as a game and human lives as pawns to be spent or traded away. Men like Demrîng and Mudon.
Like Delioron, whispered a voice in her mind. But no, she could not accept that. Delioron had been different. He had wanted to leave the game.
”What kind of information?” she asked.
”There is plenty of time to talk about that later. But now, we must not tarry here for long. Our enemies are hunting us as we speak.”
”Why should I trust you?” she asked.
”Trust me, Lady Radawen! It is the only hope either of us has of getting out alive.”
”What about Tilyh? Si’nol?”
”I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do for either of them. I don’t believe they intend to harm Tilyh. I believe they are bringing the boy to Gondor. To use both of them, of course. But they will have to fend for themselves – we cannot help them. We can only look out for each other.”
Radawen sighed. Without Delioron there did not seem to be much point in anything anyway. ”So where do we go now?” she asked.
”Oh”, Demrîng replied. ”I’m afraid there is another matter in which I have to ask your assistance before we can leave Pelargir. Both gates of the city are being watched by our enemies. If we try to leave, they will kill us.”
Demrîng flashed Radawen a brief, faint smile, as if he was asking her to join him for a fishing trip.
”So I must kill them first. And you will have to help me.”
