Showdown at Mil Nahara

Late in the afternoon, the dragons reached the western shore. The city of Baktu lay a mile or so to the north. They found a place to land in a small dell surrounded by gorse and juniper thickets. Warden Yun nearly fell to the ground with exhaustion; Sâlian and Marai caught him and settled him with his bedroll. He was asleep before the last dragon had faded. The others were barely less exhausted and sat or reclined in silence, too tired even to open their packs. Only Diri was still upright, checking the boxes. Since dragons couldn’t carry such inflexible loads on their backs, as it would restrict their movements, the boxes had been attached to sturdy wooden bars, one at each end in the manner of a watercarrier’s yoke, to be grasped in the dragons’ claws. The well-wrapped silk scroll, which had been carried by Mûn initially, had been added to Yila’s load. Diri made sure everything remained secure and watertight. Eventually, he sat down, satisfied that all was in good order.

In the morning, while the others prepared for the day’s journey, Jarin went into Baktu. Though smaller than Krandi, the city was still substantial and always busy. Here, as in Krandi, most buildings were wooden and many were carved with geometric patterns. Unlike in Krandi, many of the streets were lined with birch trees, their bare quivering branches shimmering red against the blue sky. Following the main road into the centre, Jarin found the market and surveyed the stalls for what might be useful, given that the party wasn’t carrying any cooking gear.  She bought a jug of goat milk, oat cakes in a paper bag, cheese, carrots and – a prize find – a box of dried figs.

“You sound odd,” said a woman who stood beside her at one of the stalls. “You from Talak?”

“Somewhere thereabouts,” said Jarin. She’d always believed her Krâin sounded natural, but clearly it wasn’t natural enough.

“So what brings you to Baktu?” asked the woman, who seemed in a mood to chat.

“Oh, nothing special. Just visiting a cousin.”

“Nice way to treat a visitor, sending you to market!”

“She can’t go herself. She just had a baby.” Jarin felt uncomfortable as her lie grew arms and legs. “I’m sorry, I must go.”

She hurried back to the camp, where her potluck breakfast was warmly welcomed. Vilajin had found a spring nearby where they went to wash and fill their flasks and then they summoned the dragons.

“You are a little on the heavy side, Jarin,” said Wan. “What happened since yesterday?”

“I strayed from the truth,” said Jarin and told him about the woman at the market. “I’m afraid it will take a while to atone for this.”

“Not too long, I should think,” replied Wan. “You told a lie, but you told it to protect our quest, not for selfish gain. It shouldn’t weigh you down so much. Sometimes you are a bit too sensitive. Try to let it go.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The dragons set off, Zhu with Vilajin and Alatar now in the lead, followed by Wan with Jarin and Hamûjil.  Once they had left the coast behind, the ground was white with frost. They flew inland in a north-western direction, reckoning that they would sooner or later hit on the track of the host, which would be faster than going all the way to Krandi to pick up the trail there. Right enough, by mid-afternoon, they discerned a broad, nearly straight line running east to west. Snow lay here, which had been trodden down by many feet, in parts down to the brown earth, and the detritus of twenty thousand men on the march lined the edges of the trail. They followed it until twilight, when they came to a copse where the host seemed to have made camp a few days ago.

“That’ll be good enough for us, too,” said Hamûjil.

Indeed, the copse provided shelter, and water from a small stream, and they even found some firewood. Little was spoken during their evening meal.

“What will Pallando do?” said Sâlian eventually.

“He will think of something,” said Alatar. “He has always been very resourceful. That young woman is clever, too, and he has the wisest of dragons with him.”

“Don’t ever say that in Wan’s presence,” said Jarin, which caused a bit of a giggle among the others, since all were glad to have something lightening the mood.

They huddled together with their bedrolls close to the fire and slept till first light. And so they went on for several days, following the host. Where possible, Jarin went into villages and lone farms to buy food, but soon the farmland gave way to the steppe and they had to rely on the supplies they’d brought from Kûz. Jarin had never seen such a land, flat from horizon to horizon, with only the occasional stream or thicket of trees to break up the vast expanse. Where there was no snow, the land was carpeted with a long, pale grass that moved in the wind like the waves of the inland sea. Here and there herds of shaggy animals could be seen, whether they were large sheep or small cows or something else entirely, she was not quite sure. Even rarer was the sight of tiny villages of octagonal tents. So this was where the steppe tribes lived, the nomadic Krâ, with whom she shared her distant ancestors. How could they live in the middle of such nothingness? She didn’t think she could ever, like Nara did with the western dwarves, speak of them as her kin.

Eventually the trail began to look fresher, the discarded litter more recent.

“We’ll get them soon,” said Wan.

Hamûjil sighed, but the wind was strong enough so that not even Jarin heard him.

-oOoOo-

Yoltuk felt unnerved by the sea. He was used to seeing it only from the shore, being by trade a baker in Krandi. Never before had he been on a ship, let alone out of sight of dry land. How far down did the water go? And what kind of monsters might lurk under its churning surface? He knew that the fishermen of Krandi sometimes found disturbing creatures in their nets. Still, it was better to stand here near the bow and look out over the water than to be below deck in the stuffy darkness. The problem was, standing near the bow and looking ahead he couldn’t help thinking about the destination they would soon reach. Thinking about what he would have to do when they got there.

He took a deep breath, rehearsing again in his head the manifold reasons why the Kûzeen had it coming to them: The prices they put on their finest wares, which were out of reach for most Krâ. The way they kept the secret of the making of silk and mirrors and porcelain, which not even the lowliest apprentice in the taverns would betray, no matter how drunk. The way they were so conveniently shielded by the mountains, while the Krâ always had to worry that their kin from the steppes might begin to covet their fat meadows and well-tilled fields. The way they looked down their noses at the Krâ as their uncouth, unworthy neighbours. Their insufferable claim to the moral high ground. It was true. It was all true.

It was true.

He glanced across the deck to a nest of coiled ropes where Silwur and Kilüg sat playing cards. Silwur was his neighbour and Kilüg his brother-in-law. At the start of their journey, they had been talking about how they would teach the Kûzeen a lesson. This whole day, they’d been silent about it, speaking only of their game, and the food, and the weather.

The weather was very fine for February. The breeze was steady, the sun shone mildly in a washed-out sky. Yoltuk looked up to check for clouds. Only a few thin scraps drifted overhead. Then, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed a speck moving diagonally to the wind. He squinted at it. Some kind of bird? No, a dragon.

Should he tell the commander? But what of it? The Kûzeen had their dragons going backwards and forwards all the time. It was probably just a post dragon. And even if the fleet had been spotted, what difference would it make? Everyone knew the Kûzeen were not allowed to fight. They were sitting ducks. Ducks sitting in leisure and luxury while the Krâ struggled to scrape a living.

It was true.

-oOoOo-

Mûn reached Mil Nahara about an hour after nightfall, having followed the lights of the shore villages like Pallando had suggested. He landed on the clifftops, near to where a stair leading down to the town was cut into the rock.

“I am going home,” he said. “But make sure to call me when the fleet arrives. It won’t do any harm to have a dragon around.”

“I thank you for your service,” said Pallando, and the dragon faded.

Pallando led the way down the stair and to the Mayor’s house. The door was opened by a chubby youth, Baja’s son, as it later turned out.

“The Mayor is resting,” he said. “Who wishes to see her?”

“If it pleases you, tell her the Wanderer, on urgent business.”

The lad’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing more, bid them in with a gesture and showed them a bench in the hall, then disappeared up the stair.

He came back down a couple of minutes later, followed by the Mayor, who sent him off to see to some refreshments. Then she led Pallando and Uilara into a chamber with a big round table and many chairs.

“Baja,” said Pallando when they had barely sat down, “I come to you with grave news. A fleet of Krâ ships is on its way to Mil Nahara and will likely be here by tomorrow afternoon. I have no doubt that they come with hostile intentions.”

Baja covered her mouth with her hand and said nothing for a moment. The lad came in with a tray of steaming cups which he set down on the table.

“Yiro,” said Baja, “tell your father to join us. And then run, if it pleases you, and fetch the town elders as quickly as you can. Tell them it’s urgent.”

“Yes, Mother.”

After about half an hour, the ten town elders sat at the table with Baja and her husband and their two unexpected visitors.

“How big is this fleet?” asked one.

“I counted thirty-three ships,” said Uilara. “Some of them are smaller fishing vessels, but the majority are the usual cargo ships. Pallando reckons they could bring altogether upwards of four thousand men.”

“Armed?”

“I would imagine so!”

The elders sat in shocked silence. Mil Nahara was a town of not quite ten thousand people.

“We had time to think about this on our journey,” Pallando said. “There are three courses open to us. We can try to fight, but we have no weapons and it would mean to abandon the Way. We can flee, and that might help you for a while, but there is no true safety in that if the Krâ come roaming about the land. Or we can choose a third way – one that fits our culture and our beliefs. This is what I propose…”

And he told them the plan he had shared with Uilara on the way. At first, most of those sitting round the table were unconvinced and favoured the idea of running and hiding. But then Baja spoke and said she was willing to follow Pallando, and then one by one the women among the town elders said it was worth thinking about.

“And what will we do?” asked Baja’s husband. “I mean, we men?”

“You will flee,” said Pallando. “You will take the children and take them to as safe a place as you can find. I’d say, take them to Najûn, at least the city is walled. We didn’t see any horses on the ships, so even if we fail here, the Krâ are unlikely to catch up with you as long as you keep moving. But I don’t think we will fail. The Krâ have never been to war before. They are not soldiers brutalised by battle; they’re farmers and weavers and shop keepers. Sauron may have given them swords, but it takes more than a sword to kill a person. The Archseraph is on a quest to remind the Krâ of their better selves, and the Guardian and I have encouraged him in this, because we believe he will succeed. And I believe we will succeed here as well on the same mission.”

“Still…” said one of the town elders, a middle-aged man with impressive eyebrows. “It doesn’t seem right, men running away leaving the women behind.”

“But you are not running away,” said Uilara. “You are taking care of your children, taking them to safety.”

“The Wanderer is proposing to stay; he’s a man,” objected Eyebrows.

“He is not what we are,” said Baja’s husband.

“I will stay, but I will keep in the background,” said Pallando. “If all goes well, Mûn and I will find you and tell you it’s safe to come home.”

“Can we not all go to Najûn?” said a woman.

“Yes, you could all go to Najûn,” said Pallando. “And the Krâ would take Mil Nahara and plunder your homes, and then they would march on to Levare and do the same there, and eventually they’ll come to Najûn and the walls will hold them off for a while but in the end they’ll take Najûn as well. It is better to stop them here.”

“But you are not sure your plan will work,” said Eyebrows. “Or else you wouldn’t send the children away.”

“It’s always prudent to protect the children. But of course there is a risk,” conceded Pallando. “I am well aware of that, and anyone choosing to do this will have to be aware of it as well. I am giving you the best advice I can but I am not infallible. So if anyone can suggest a better plan, I am willing to hear it.”

But no better plan was brought forward. After a long enough silence, Baja took the vote and all agreed to follow Pallando.

“It’s late,” said Baja. “Too late, at least, to start preparations. Let’s go to bed, and I’ll speak to the people early in the morning.”

There were nods of agreement, and the town elders began to rise from their seats.

“Is there a lungi in town?” asked Pallando.

“Yes, the post dragon came this afternoon.”

“Ask them to go to Levare in the morning and tell the news to the Seraphine.”

Their council dispersed, and each sought their own bed (Pallando and Uilara being put up at the Mayor’s), but few slept well. It was not quite dawn when heralds with big copper gongs walked up and down the streets, calling people to assemble in the main square.

Early as it was, much business had already been completed. Uilara had got the scribes out of bed and had them produce wads of leaflets with a summary of the situation and instructions for the plan. Baja’s husband had organised bundles of travel supplies to be prepared at the store houses, and a group of people in boats had been sent upriver with crates and shears. The clerks at the Mayor’s office had drawn up a list of all families with children. Pallando had spoken to the post lungi and sent him on to Levare with a letter for Majani.

The square filled rapidly as the rumour spread of an imminent Krâ attack. There were pockets of panic, which the town elders sought to quell, handing out as many leaflets as they could and asking people to pass them on after reading. In the centre of the square stood a round platform, raised some five or six feet off the ground, designed for holding a handful of speakers to address the crowds during festivals. Here Baja stood, and Pallando with Mûn, the dragon curled almost in a circle around them to fit the space.

“Citizens of Mil Nahara!” boomed Mûn’s mighty voice. “Hear what the Wanderer has to say to you: It is true that a fleet of Krâ is approaching your harbour and that you cannot expect them to ask you whether you prefer peace to conflict. You must deal with the situation as it is. Here are the choices that are laid before you.”

And he explained to them the futility of both fight and flight and then the reasoning behind the third way, Pallando’s plan. The response of the crowd was as to be expected: whispering and nodding and shaking of heads and shouting of questions. The leaflets made the rounds, some being read out to clusters of people at the edge of the square, some being eagerly snatched out of the hands of a neighbour. Then Baja spoke. Her voice rang strong and clear across the square.

“My friends! I have been your Mayor for many years and I cherish the people of Mil Nahara. You are good folk and you have accomplished many things, but the time has come now when we will be tested as we have never been tested before. You have heard the Wanderer’s plan. It is an audacious plan and a plan worthy of Kûz, but it is not without risk. I do not demand of you to do this. If you want to flee and hide where you can, that is your choice. But to all who can muster the courage, I say, you would be wise to follow him. Your council debated it last night and agreed that it was the best thing we can do at this time. I myself will be with you, of course. So make your choice now: Will you run, or will you stay?”

Nobody spoke. Nobody left.

After a while, somewhere in the crowd, someone began to sing.

Our land, a jewel under the sapphire sky…

-oOoOo-

It was overcast, so Mil Nahara lay in a gentle glowstone shimmer even in the middle of day. The commander stood at the bow of the leading ship as the Krâ fleet approached the docks. No movement could be noticed in the town, but as they drew closer, they saw that it was not deserted.

“Commander,” came a quiet voice beside him.

“Yes? It’s Yoltuk, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The man shifted from foot to foot. “We cannot do this, commander,” he said.

“I know,” replied the commander after a while. “But we have orders.”

“So we are going to kill these people, unarmed as they are? A bunch of women?”

Yes, women. All along the quayside they stood, dressed in bright clothing, with silk scarfs in their hair. Each woman held an evergreen branch in her right hand and rested her left hand on the right shoulder of her neighbour. They stood completely still, with only their garments and evergreens moving slightly in the wind.

The commander pushed out his chin.  “We do not have orders to kill them. Only to take Mil Nahara. If they don’t resist, we do not need to harm them.”

“And would you call this resistance?” asked Yoltuk.

“We shall see.” Then he turned to the men. “Disembark and form the line,” he said, “but do not draw your swords.”

This took a while, since nobody on land helped with the berthing. But eventually the soldiers of about a dozen ships had set foot on the quayside and stood in a long line, three men deep. The rest of the fleet stayed further out in the bay. The entire time, the Kûzar women remained silent and motionless, which, the commander thought, made everything so much worse. But there was nothing for it. He donned his high, plumed helmet, stepped on land and took his place ahead of his soldiers. The Kûzar women turned their heads and peered at him.

From his left, two women now approached, one middle-aged, one youthful, both clad in blue. They stopped a few paces away from him.

“I am Baja,” said the elder of the women, “Mayor of Mil Nahara, and this is Uilara, apprentice of the Guardian. We bid you good afternoon and ask what your business is in our town.”

The commander was at a loss. Until recently, he had been in charge of the Krandi City Watch, a body of men mainly concerned with theft and drunken kerfuffles. He hadn’t expected any armed resistance from the Kûzeen, but he certainly also hadn’t expected this, whatever it was. His plan had been to take over the city hall and place his soldiers in strategic positions all over the town. But now a row of little old ladies and sweetly smiling girls stood in his way.

“Move aside, women!” he barked.

None of the women in front of him budged. He saw the Mayor making a sign with her hand that seemed to tell them to wait. The women were looking past him now, their eyes wide. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Movement rippled through the line of women as some of them tried to step back but were held steady by the hand on their shoulder. The commander dithered. He became aware of some unrest behind him, muffled voices, some kind of tumult among his men. He had to do something, or he would lose control of his troops.

He drew his sword.

“Careful,” said a voice by his ear as his sword was swiftly wrested from his hand. “Someone might get hurt.”

The commander looked round and into the grinning face of a Hwenti man. And then he took it all in – the entire dockside was bristling with elves, holding the Krâ’s weapons, while his soldiers were looking sheepish. Beyond the bulk of his ship, he could see the sails of elven vessels in the bay and some vague idea of commotions on the Krâ ships suggested that the men there had been surprised by the Hwenti as well.

The Kûzar women seemed equally surprised and were urgently whispering among themselves. Then Baja stepped forward.

“Master Lossë,” she said, “I did not expect to see you here at this time…”

“You didn’t? But we always come unexpected,” he replied with a grin. “That’s why you keep the taverns open all year round, isn’t it? Imagine our surprise, though, at finding our Krâ friends here. Fortunately, we have plenty of refreshments for them. The commander and I” – here he slapped the Krâ commander heartily on the back – “will sit down for a drink and a little chat about what’s been going on here. Why don’t you ladies go home now? I’m sure you have things to do. Like dusting or somesuch. Don’t let us take up your time.”

While he was speaking, the swords of the Krâ had quietly disappeared (they were later found at the bottom of the harbour) and the Hwenti were now walking about with cups of drink which they offered to the increasingly befuddled Krâ soldiers. Lossë grabbed two goblets and gave one to the commander.

“To your health, friend!”

The commander scowled at the cup. “Let us swap,” he said.

“You think I’m trying to poison you? Haha! But worry not, I shall drink from both cups, and then you can take your pick.”

He did so, and then the commander took a sip and couldn’t believe that anything so delicious could exist in all of Middle-earth.