Nerwen the Green and the Search for the Entwives #wattys2019

Chapter XLII: Going Southwards

Chapter XLII: Going Southwards

Two days later, Zagal hosted a grand banquet to honour Aryon and Nerwen, with the best food of the local cuisine, among which a delicious porcini mushroom soup and succulent grilled narag meat, the whole coming with the best beer out of the merchantress' personal reserve. As a proper conclusion, an exquisite pear tart in a bed of ground almonds and, to Nerwen's delight, sweet cider.

It was late in the afternoon when they took their leave from Zagal, Lukris and Hark for the last time. The merchantress hugged Nerwen with misty eyes, aware that they would hardly meet again. Then she clasped Aryon's wrist, in a gesture of friendship that both Dwarves and Elves shared,

"May Mahal and his spouse accompany you," she said, "and may your feet always step on solid rock."

"Thank you, Zagal," Nerwen answered, moved, "A star was shining on the hour of our encounter: I'm honoured I could meet you."

Aryon nodded to show his approval. Only a few weeks earlier, he wouldn't even dream to do this: not only his life had completely changed, since Nerwen had come to be part of it, but his convictions, too, were changing. Some of them, at least. It was an odd sensation, sometimes unsettling, but he had never felt more alive than now.

Remembering the agreement they had in Orrodal, he took a pouch full of coins from his pocket and handed it to Zagal, who stared at him, puzzled.

"The balance of the agreed reward," the prince explained. The Dwarf shook her head, firmly:

"You don't pay friends," she stated, "And, now that you remind me of it, I want to give you back your down payment."

Her decision struck Aryon greatly; he would never have expected it from a member of her race, held – rightly or wrongly – as greedy for material wealth. After all, they rewarded even Valin for his precious cooperation.

"I don't want to hear any of it," he stopped her, "You have been greatly helpful to us and I think this is the least we can do: I insist."

"I, too, insist," the merchantress persisted, glowering and placing her hands on her hips in a stubborn stance. Nerwen rolled her eyes: here came the famous obstinacy of the Dwarves, she thought; but Zagal's behaviour favourably impressed her.

"Let's take the middle ground," she said in a forceful tone that brooked no argument, "We won't give you the rest of the money, but you'll keep the down payment we gave you."

Zagal and Aryon exchanged a glance; after a brief hesitation, both nodded, accepting the solution, and the courteous dispute was resolved with the satisfaction of both parts.

Lukris arrived with a large goblet of silver, full of hot, spiced cider, and she offered it to Nerwen.

"The chalice of farewell," she explained, "We drink to the health of each other."

This was a Dwarven custom Nerwen didn't know; she thought it was very similar to the one the Elven of Lothlórien had, drinking miruvor on the parting moment, an example of how much similar customs could be of people otherwise very different.

Hence, they drank in turn from the goblet and finally took their leave one last time.

OOO

They following day, they left Fortvalley for Orrodal. In her saddlebag, Nerwen had stored a detailed copy of Valin's map, which the Wise had drawn for them.

The weather was rainy, this morning, so the two travellers wrapped themselves in their cloaks and hooded their heads before setting off.

Zagal had supplied them with so much provisions, that Thalion was almost on the breaking point, but he took indomitably the steep slope from the bottom of the dale to the crest, from where the road winded southwards. Noticing his struggle, Nerwen decided to transfer some of his load to Thilgiloth and Allakos, but Thalion refused, making it a source of pride: after all, he pointed out, carrying their luggage was his job.