[Imladris]

Maethor

“I feel lousy,” Maethor said with a slight laugh, holding his head. Staring at Dulrain, he grinned and said, “Now you show yourself. I have been looking for your for quite some time, but you disappear as easily as shadows flee the sun. I came across your tracks by the wall and followed them until they disappeared (following your example, I’m sure), and there guessed that you had left the city a short distance -- a guess which proved wrong,” he added ruefully, touching the cut across his forehead gingerly. “I ran into Vanwe,” he said softly. “She was in trouble, running from a man named Avanill. He distracted me while Ferney charged me from behind…I tried to get him to tell me where Nairore was, but Avanill sent me into a sleep with some kind of drug, I suppose.” He sighed sadly. “Where are the others?” he asked absently. He wondered what had happened to Vanwe, whether she was in any harm or pain. "No sign of Vanwe?" he asked.

Dulrain shrugged slightly and said, “No sign of the elf. But I left them as they interrogated Toby Longholes.”

“He proved very uncooperative,” Maethor said, somewhat dryly. “But, in the end, he gave us some information…very little information. I was sent to look for you before they were finished with him. Actually, everything’s still a bit hazy, if you know what I mean. That’s right! He said he was going to show them Ferney’s house…wherever that is.”

“We must return to the Prancing Pony,” said Dulrain.

They soon reached the inn and found that their friends had gone. Slowly making their way to Butterbur’s station at the bar, Dulrain asked, “Did our friends, the elf and rangers, leave you a message for us? I am Dulrain and this is Maethor.”

Butterbur furrowed his brow, stopped for a while with two ales in his hand, and said, “Not that I can remember. Of course, with things such a bustle around here, it might easily have gotten lost.”

Maethor rubbed his temples wearily, wishing desperately they had a more reliable host. However, he smiled gently and said, “Do you remember when they left?”
Butterbur shrugged and began to scurry towards a table with loud men, Maethor and Dulrain trailing behind him. “Now I don’t recall them exactly leaving.”

“If they didn’t talk to you, who would they have talked to,” asked Dulrain.

“No…no, you did order an ale,” protested Butterbur to a disgruntled guest. “Their memories are shorter than a pig’s tail,” he said, “and just as twisted.”

Maethor smiled and said, “If they had left, would they have spoken to Nob?”

“Nob? Yes, perhaps so. Hey, you!” he shouted to a hobbit hand, “fetch Nob!”

Nob soon scuttled in, his round face red with exertion or excitement, or both. “Were you given a letter for either Dulrain or Maethor?” the young ranger asked, yawning slightly. He was still feeling drowsy from the drug Avanill had given him; his jaw ached and he was still musing on Vanwe's fate.

“Here it is!” Nob said excitedly. Maethor, reading that the Sindarin script addressed it to Dulrain, handed it with mock gravity to the ranger. Tearing the seal, Dulrain quickly scanned it and said, “Let’s go to Ferney’s house.”

[ October 24, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]