Chapter XXVI: In Wilderland

Throughout the winter, Nerwen and Arwen spent much time together; in Elrond's daughter, the Istar didn't only see again the appearance of her beloved niece Lúthien, but she had found also a very sweet person, considerate but also sunny, with whom she shared many things, both serious, like a way to see the world, the relationships with people, the feelings, and playful, such as riding, playing teliad or other board games, reading. The two of them grew very fond of each other.

Nerwen spent many pleasant hours with Galadriel, too; but it was with Beriadir that she shared the most delightful days and nights of her stay in the Golden Wood.

She spoke to no one about the deep sorrow of her heart, caused by Thorin's death, because she knew that no Elf would truly want to understand, or accept, that an immortal, moreover one of high rank like her, could feel so connected to a mortal, a Dwarf out of all beings; she didn't even tell Galadriel, even if – differently from most Elves – the Lady of the Galadhrim had a lot of sympathy for Dwarves, because she doubted that even her old friend would truly understand her feelings. However, neither to her piercing eyes, which went far deeper than the visible things, nor to Arwen's and Beriadir's affectionate ones, could Nerwen hide her hurt, and so she told them only that she had had news about the death of a person she had been very fond of. All three felt sorry for her, but Beriadir was the one who kept really close to her, bestowing on her much care and attention; and cuddling her constantly, so little by little he was able to ease her pain. And because of this, even more than his exquisite and passionate embraces, she would be forever grateful to him.

OOO

This way, the months passed by, and eventually the moment for leaving arrived. Saying farewell to Lothlórien and to those she had become attached to was harder for Nerwen, this time, because differently than the first time, she didn't plan on returning, or at least, not in the near future.

Celeborn and Galadriel insisted on having a great farewell banquet, much more munificent than the previous one; Captain Haldir and his fiancée Ireth were invited, and of course also Beriadir, as well as all the notable people of the realm. There were plenty of food and drinks, and in addition music, poetry, jugglers, acrobats, and dances until late.

Nerwen and Beriadir retired relatively early, but they didn't sleep much, that night.

OOO

The next day, they got up at about nine o'clock; again, Beriadir offered to escort her.

Unlike on the Celebrant, there was no ferry crossing the Anduin, but Celeborn had ordered one prepared expressly for Nerwen.

While Thalion and Thilgiloth, with Calad perched on the saddle of the latter, were taken on board of the barge, Beriadir clutched Nerwen's hands and lifted them to his lips.

"We had a really good time together," he said in a low voice, looking into her eyes. She nodded:

"Yes, indeed," she confirmed, smiling.

He pulled her into his arm and kissed her sweetly, for a long time.

"I hope one day you'll come back to Lórien," he said under his breath, "Till then, may the grace of the Valar be with you and guard you during your long journey."

His words touched Nerwen, because she guessed that, from now on, she would truly need it: so far, she had had a relatively easy time, moving into a territory that was well-known – even not to her personally, as during the First Age she visited only Beleriand – and among friendly people, almost all familiar with her, from Círdan to Galadriel; but from now on, she would journey in lands little or not at all known, and would meet completely foreign people. Besides, so far her travelling had been facilitated by the existence of important roads, like the Great East Road, or by the company of an escort, such as the one from Rivendell to Lothlórien, or by detailed maps, like going to Fangorn; but from here on out, things would change radically. This meant that difficulties, hazards and dangers would surely come in greater extent, both in numbers and in measure.

"Thank you, Beriadir," she answered, "I, too, hope to come back, one day… but we have no way of knowing it."

She stroked his cheek, slightly bristly because of the beard he had shaved hastily.

"May the stars shine upon your path," she whispered, warmly. Beriadir turned his head to kiss her hand, and then he let her go. Nerwen took a step backwards, turned and went on board, walking quickly to overcome her reluctance. If the first time she had left Beriadir and Lothlórien, almost one year before, had felt hard, now it was a hundred time harder because, unlike the previous, this time she didn't know if it would be possible for her to return.

Standing on the deck, she kept watching Beriadir's shape becoming smaller and smaller while the barge was moving away from the shore. She would miss him. Not like Calion, because they hadn't spent as much time together; and not even like Thorin, because what she had felt for the Dwarven prince would stay forever a unique and unrepeatable feeling. But nevertheless, she would miss Beriadir.

OOO

On the riverbank, Beriadir kept staring at Nerwen, motionless, almost as if wanting to imprint her in his mind indelibly. He uttered a long sigh: he would miss her for a long time. Even if they weren't meant to be partners for life, Nerwen had entered in his heart and would occupy there an important place for long, surely until the day he would meet his own soul mate.

Seeing that the ferry had finally reached the other shore, Beriadir turned and climbed back on his horse; with another sigh, he shook the bridles and returned slowly to Caras Galadhon.

OOO

Reaching the shore, the boatman moored the barge at the trunk of a tree, strong enough for the task, and had the horses getting off; after thanking him, Nerwen hopped in Thilgiloth's saddle and spurred her, moving away from the river. She headed eastward, in the direction of Mirkwood.

It was mid-April, and the noontime sun shone already quite warm at this latitude, therefore Nerwen had put on her hat.

After Sauron had been chased away, those lands – even if located just about 40 kilometres south of Dol Guldur – were relatively safe, for now: Orcs and Werewolves infesting the forest had run away with their master. Nonetheless, Calad monitored carefully the territory from above, and both Nerwen and Thilgiloth remained constantly alert.

The Istar planned on reaching Mirkwood in three or four days and then skirting it almost due eastwards, arriving to its southernmost point. From here, she would proceed eastward, keeping north of the Brown Lands in order to avoid their desolation; then she would cross the large plain separating Mirkwood from the inland sea of Rhûn: her next destination was Dorwinion, a journey which would require about three weeks.

Thalion, the reliable packhorse who had accompanied them to Fangorn, was loaded with provisions and luggage, but his strength and resistance were so great, it didn't bother him; he always walked in the tail of Thilgiloth, for whom he had a true veneration.

Halfway in the morning of the third day after leaving Lothlórien, from her high position Calad spotted the dark line of Mirkwood on the horizon; they reached it in the late afternoon. They set up camp at a good distance from the trees – after all, one could never know, Nerwen thought gloomily, recalling the dreadful experience with the Werewolves at Rhosgobel, almost one year ago; but the night passed quietly, and the next day they resumed their journey, with the bleak Brown Lands far to their right; the dark forest loomed to their left, but soon enough they left if behind, and entered the vast prairies of Wilderland, or Rhovanion. Here, the landscape was mostly flat and quite boring, only here and there dotted with minor heights, small trees clusters not even worth the name of woods, and creeks just a few strides wide, fortunately numerous enough to save them the problem of water supply. There were no roads or tracks, because Dorwinion did business mostly by river, sailing up the Celduin for hundreds of kilometres northwest until Lake-town, and from there up the Forest River, reaching Thranduil's Wooden Realm; the Elven king, Nerwen had learned from Celeborn, was very fond of the excellent Dorwinian wine. A tributary of the Celduin, the Carnen, led instead to the Dwarven realm of the Iron Hills, farther east than Lake-town.

For many days, Nerwen and her kelvar friends proceeded in the empty lands of Rhovanion without meeting any living being except animals like hares, rodents, grouses, pheasants, moles, anteaters, lizards, and a great number of insects, from bees to butterflies, from ants to dragonflies. They heard frogs and toads along the small streams they crossed, and sometimes they caught in the distance the curt bark of foxes and coyotes. The grass was lush, a good forage for the horses, and the abundance of rodents and large insects fed the hawk perfectly.

OOO

F inally, in the early afternoon of the sixth day of May, after an almost three-week journey with no remarkable events, Nerwen got to the Harnenduin. In this place, the river was almost halfway between its springs in the southeast and its merging into the Celduin to the northwest, and it was already quite wide; it looked placid, but Nerwen knew out of experience that, more often than not, a quiet surface hides strong streams, and therefore crossing it would be a serious matter, not to underestimate, because it could prove rather tough.

Nerwen was a good swimmer, and of course she couldn't drown; Thilgiloth, too, for the same reasons could handle it, and for Calad obviously there was no problem, as she could easily fly over the river. But poor Thalion was frightened by the width of the stream, not to mention there was no way to carry the luggage. Nerwen had a hatchet to cut wood for a campfire, but it was way too small to cut trunks big enough to build a raft – assuming the could craft it, that is, which she seriously doubted: during her long life, she had learned to do and make many things, but not boats, not even as simple as a raft.

There was only one solution: they had to find a ford, or a ferry. Nerwen watched intently one way and the other; it was more likely to find a ford upstream, but maybe downstream there was a village with a ferry.

Calad, my friend, would you go and look for signs of a crossing? she asked the hawk, who was perched on Thalion's back. After receiving the necessary instructions, Calad took off and started upstream; she would stay away several hours, then she would come back to report and, if she had found nothing, she would start again downstream, obviously after resting some time. Considering this, Nerwen dismounted and set up camp, preparing her tent and lighting a fire. On a flat hot stone, she baked a carp she had caught in the river, seasoning it with thyme and wood garlic she had gathered nearby. Free of ties, Thilgiloth and Thalion began to graze peacefully.

The sun was almost setting when Calad returned; her long scouting had been fruitless, because she hadn't spot any place suitable to cross the river.

"Rest, now," Nerwen exhorted her, "Tomorrow morning you'll fly downriver. If you find nothing even there, we'll go upstream until the river becomes narrow enough and we'll be able to cross it, even if it'd take days."

OOO

The following day, Calad started again at an early hour; she came back shortly after lunch, while Nerwen was indulging in the luxury of smoking her pipe – her supply of pipe-weed was almost over – sitting in the shadow of a poplar. Directing her thoughts to the bird of prey, the Aini perceived immediately her gladness and realised she had found what they were looking for even before she told her:

I caught sight of a building cluster of the Two-Legs, Calad said, sending her the image of a village of stone and wood cottages, There are boats, too.

Indeed, there were three docks along the riverbank, two large enough to host each a dozen of moored boats, the other one smaller, with a barge; on the opposite riverbank there was its counterpart dock, empty.

It was difficult for Calad determining the distance, but presuming she had found the small town in half of the time she had been away, had surveyed it for some minutes and then had come back immediately, Nerwen guessed it could be around 80 kilometres. If she started at once, they could get there by the evening of the next day.

She broke camp, loaded Thalion and mounted on Thilgiloth, starting along the riverbank. There were many wooded spots, and sometimes the trees arrived as far as the water, forcing the Istar to withdraw some hundred metres from the river, but for most of the time she could ride on keeping an eye on the water on her right side.

In the late afternoon of the next day – a little earlier than she was expecting – they reached the place along the Harnenduin where, on the opposite riverbank, they found the village Calad had seen. Here, the river was even wider, and approaching the dock with the ferry, Nerwen wondered how they would see her from the opposite side. Luckily, there was no problem: at the beginning of the jetty, she found a small wooden box, closed all around except in the front; inside of it hung a horn with a brass mouthpiece; above it, the words play me were written in Common Speech as well as in Sindarin.

"Simple and efficient," Nerwen commented, she dismounted and crossed over to the box, took the horn and blew it firmly, getting a low but resonant sound. She kept an eye on the opposite jetty, and soon enough she saw a strong built Man marching on it; they looked at each other across the water, then the Man waved his arms as if telling her he had seen and heard her. She watched him getting on board the ferry, and a second Man arrived shortly after. Together, they untied the moorings and began to pull at the rope stretched across the river, beginning the crossing.

Nerwen put back the horn in its place, then she took Thilgiloth and Thalion by their bridles and led them on the jetty, waiting for the barge to arrive.

It took over half an hour, but finally the flat-bottomed boat docked. The first Man stayed on board, while the second one, taller but less sturdy than the other, his head completely shaved, disembarked and headed for her.

"Hello, stranger," he said in a heavy accent that sounded quite odd to the Maia's ears, "Is that only you with two horses?"

"That's right, master ferryman," she answered politely, "How much to take us on the other riverbank?"

The Man glanced at the horses, as if estimating their looks and value.

"Ten and five silver coins," he answered boldly. Nerwen arched her eyebrows, dumbfounded: in Valinor there was no money, but she used it each time she had come this side of the Great Sea and, even if the present worth differed from the First Age, soon she had learned how much it was, and the sum the ferryman had just requested was exorbitant, to say the least. Then she recalled something she had read about the culture of Dorwinion, but paid no mind to it: the inhabitants used to bargain ferociously for everything. The ones offering goods or service asked for an outrageously high sum, and the ones wanting to buy had to offer an outrageously low sum.

She couldn't help but play along.

"You're kidding me," she replied buoyantly, "I'll give you three coins."

Three was a ridiculously low sum. The Man pretended to be scandalised, with an excessive emphasis.

"No, that's absolutely not enough!" he cried, "Let's make ten and three."

"No way. Five."

"But I have a wife and four children to feed, how can I make it…? Ten and one coins."

"You can whine as much as you want, you don't fool me… Six coins."

"Ten…"

She stretched out her hand:

""Let's make it eight and we have a deal."

The Man shook her hand, grinning from one ear to the other:

"Deal."

Nerwen and the horses embarked, with Calad perched on Thalion's back as it had become customary, except the times she made herself comfortable on Thilgiloth's saddle when her rider wasn't there. The other Man, too, welcomed Nerwen beaming broadly: he had followed the banter closely and had appreciated it much.

"Where did you learn to bargain so well?" he asked her while unwinding the binds.

"From those who came here before me," she answered grinning.

They crossed the Harnenduin and reached the other riverbank while the sun was closing in to the horizon.

The two ferrymen helped Nerwen to disembark, then they led gently the horses along the pier to the grassy riverside.

"Can you suggest me a good inn for the night?" the Aini asked to the Man with the shaved head.

"There's only one, here in Rhomarian," he answered, pointing along the road, "You see that white building with the red shutters, at the bottom of the street? That's it. The Silver Key, it's named. The owner is my sister Viduravi."

"Thanks, master ferryman," Nerwen said, handing him the eight silver coins they had agreed upon, to which she added four copper coins; at his confused glance, she explained, "For the excellent service."

"Uh, thank you, Missus!" the Man cried, surprised, and she considered amused that, from stranger, she had suddenly become missus, "Tell Viduravi from my part to give you her best room. My name's Ulfgan."

"Very well, Master Ulfgan, I'll do that," the Istar said, mounting on Thilgiloth, "Have a good night, you and you companion," she added, nodding to the other ferryman, who reciprocated her.

A few minutes later, Nerwen dismounted in front of the entrance of The Silver Key. As usual, she tied neither Thilgiloth, who had no need for it, nor Thalion, who did everything the Chargeress did.

Be wary, she recommended to Thilgiloth and Calad, We're among strangers: mayhap they're honest, and mayhap not. If someone comes too close, call me at once.

The Chargeress and the hawk sent her their agreement, therefore the Maia got inside.

Like all inns, the first room was a hall with a counter, behind which a child was standing on a chair; she was a girl with long blond curls, about eight years old. As soon as she spotted her, she smiled and jump from the chair, running away.

"Mummy, mummy, there's a very lovely lady!"

A moment later, a woman in her early thirties arrived, as blond as the girl was. Seeing Nerwen, she beamed broadly:

"Welcome to Rhomarian and The Silver Key, Missus," she greeted her cordially.

"Thank you… Viduravi, I suppose?" at her confirming not, Nerwen went on, "Your brother Ulfgan sends me. He says you should give me your best room."

"Really? He doesn't easily say that, you must have impressed him very positively, Missus…"

"Nerwen the Green," the Istar introduced herself. She wasn't sure if this title would made her known as a member of the Order of the Wizards, highly respected everywhere in Middle-earth, but she discovered at once that the fame of the Istari had reached also Dorwinion, because Viduravi stared at her in wonder.

"Many years ago, a Wizard passed through here. I don't remember his name – it was at the time of my grandmother – but I think he was called the Grey. Is there some connection…?"

Nerwen wondered where Gandalf had not been, in Middle-earth; but she thought Dorwinion was the easternmost place he had gone, because he had told her he never went to the east.

"Yes, he's Gandalf the Grey, a friend and a colleague of mine," she answered.

"My granny used to tell me he was very satisfied with her beer, and so he put a spell on it by which it would be excellent for ten generations of this family. Today still, the beer we produce here at The Silver Key is the best in a radius of 100 kilometres…"

Nerwen laughed:

"Beer and pipe-weed, his passions!"

"Pipe-weed?" Viduravi repeated, confused.

"Galenas," the Aini explained, using the corresponding word in Sindarin; the woman lighted up:

"Oh yes, that too! We do grow it, not near here, but in the north-western region of our country… But I'm rambling. So, you want a room, Missus Nerwen?"

"Yes, and two stalls for my mounts."

"Very well. I'll have Grendel taking care of this, and I'll see your baggage in your room."

"May I take a bath?" the Istar enquired.

"Sure. I'll send for you as soon as it'll be ready."

OOO

A couple of hours later, freshened up by a lukewarm bath in a simple but large wooden bathtub, Nerwen headed for the common room, where she had an excellent chicken roast with vegetables, and a piece of carrot cake, which was new to her, because she would never think a vegetable could be suitable to prepare a sweet loaf.

"How far is Gobelamon from here?" the Maia asked Viduravi, before retiring for the night.

"On horseback, four days, more or less," the innkeeper answered.

"Have you never been there?" Nerwen asked, wanting to know more about it.

"Once, when I was a lass," Viduravi told her, "my brother and I, with our parents, went to the Biennial Fair, the biggest fair in Dorwinion, which lasts one week. There was it, where I met the one who'd become my husband, Pekka," she smiled, "A tall and handsome youngster, with long blond hair and incredible green eyes," she winked and nodded towards the man behind the counter: clearly, she was deeply in love with her husband who, actually, was a very handsome specimen of Man, Nerwen admitted by herself.

"And how is it? The town, I mean."

"Huge," Viduravi answered, in a tone expressing, even now after so much time, her marvel, "It is located on a hill by the Celduin, exactly where it begins to broaden before flowing into the sea, and it's completely enclosed by gigantic walls. You can find anything there, any type of goods, coming from the Elves of the Wooden Realm, the Men of Lake-town, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills, from Gondor, Rohan and once even from the Elves of the Eastern Forest, but it's from the time of my granny that we're not on good terms with them, and since that time you don't see any of them, in Dorwinion."

Nerwen's ears perked up:

"What happened?" she enquired. Viduravi shrugged:

"Who knows? To us populace, the potentates tell very little. There are rumours about some offence caused by their queen to our king of the time, or to his son, but what kind of offence it was, I can't tell. As much as I know, the Elves tell the story differently, and talk about an offence caused to their queen by our king or his son, not even to them is it clear… The fact remains that for at least 50 years the diplomatic relations between our two folks are very tense, and if anyone of us ventures into the Eastern Forest, he or she risks being caught as a spy and thrown in jail or, even worse, being killed on the spot."

The Aini pressed her lips together: she would never understand why people couldn't solve a State matter as good as a personal one. Unless it was about dealing with Sauron's servants, of course, but here it was about Elves and Men.

These circumstances were making her journey surely more dangerous.

OOO

The next morning, Nerwen bargained fiercely with Pekka who, as his brother-in-law the ferryman, began asking her a ridiculously high price, just to be answered with a ridiculously low counteroffer; and like the previous day, the negotiation ended up with both parts satisfied. One wasted a little time, Nerwen thought amused, exiting The Silver Key, but she found it very funny. Moreover, accepting and following this peculiar tradition of them, she would gain the respect of the inhabitants of Dorwinion, and this translated in a more confidential treatment, instead of being regarded as a stranger.

Leaving the village, the Maia took the road that, following the directions Pekka had offered her very gladly, would take her to the next step, the small town of Glavudd, located at almost one day on horseback from Rhomarian to the north-east; there, she would come across one of the main roads of Dorwinion, which would take her to Gobelamon.

OOO

For four days, Nerwen rode on calmly in a generally flat landscape, well-cultivated mostly with grains such as wheat and barley, and with grapevines, olive-trees and citrus-trees.

Halfway into the afternoon of the fourth day, the Maia got over the crest of a hill range and glimpsed at the Celduin, or River Running, which from the Long Lake ran for almost 900 kilometres to flow into the Sea of Rhûn, from this place visible as a distant glitter on the eastern horizon.

A s Viduravi had told her, the town was located on a solitary mound at about 100 metres from the river, which marked the northern border of Dorwinion; in this place, the Celduin began to widen in an estuary, preparing to its encounter with the inland sea.

Watching the town, capital city of Dorwinion, Nerwen couldn't help but thinking it was much less impressive than Viduravi's words led her to believe; but then she thought that she had an unmatchable comparison, that was Valimar, the city of the Valar that, as for size and majesty, could have no similarity, in Middle-earth.

The Istar came at Gobelamon's gates and found them wide open and unguarded, even if in the breadth of the walls – very massive – a sentry box had been carved, manned by a bored-looking guard who watched her distractedly while she was passing through the gates. But when Nerwen halted and nodded him in greeting, he stood up and came out.

"Hello, and welcome to Gobelamon," he said affably, "May I help you, Missus?"

"Yes, thanks," she answered, "I'm looking for a good inn: can you give me your advice?"

The soldier pondered for a moment, trying to guess from the looks of his interlocutor what kind of a lodging he could suggest to her: she had to be some kind of noblewoman, he decided, judging from her delicate features and the stunning mare she mounted, as well as the fact she was accompanied by a packhorse and a hawk. She was alone, and maybe in incognito, he supposed.

"The Palace of the Stars," he answered, choosing the best inn in town, where only the richest merchants and the nobles visiting the Queen of Dorwinion stayed, when there was no place in the castle, and then he gave her the directions to get there.

OOO

Less than one hour later, Nerwen was freshening up in the room they had assigned to her, a well-furnished chamber. The large canopy bed looked very comfortable, the armchairs were well cushioned and covered in satin decorated with alternating glossy and opaque stripes, on the balcony stood a tiny table and a small wicker-couch full of pillows, the bathroom was covered in decorated majolica and displayed a bathtub in enamelled copper. They had accommodated Thilgiloth and Thalion in the well-run stables of the inn, treating them with great care, while for Calad they had fetched a solid perch. The place was absolutely luxurious, if compared to the normal inns Newen had found so far, from the Shire on, even if it was far from the splendour of an Elven royal palace. Nerwen was very satisfied; looking around, impulsively she decided to stop here for some days rest, before finding a way to get to Eryn Rhûn, or Eastern Forest as they called it here.

OOO

In the following days, making good use of Viduravi's suggestion, Nerwen explored Gobelamon wandering in the streets only by day, and keeping pretty close her pouch, where she carried the purse with her money.

She drank the best wine she ever had, finding out that, even if it was the same one they exported, consumed on-site it was more flavoursome; and in a shop she found pipe-weed, of course of a different quality as the Southfarthing's in the Shire, but all the same satisfying. She made a good supply of it, expecting it unlikely finding more along the way.

On that evening, she sat on the terrace of her room at The Palace of the Stars, which faced westward, and enjoyed a good smoke admiring the sunset. She had fun exercising in the smoke shaping, an activity at which, after two years practice, she had become quite good, even if she was far not as good as Gandalf. Watching at her last creation – a blossomed mallorn – she thought that, on their next encounter, she would challenge her friend to who would create the most spectacular figure: they would have great fun for sure.

She sighed: she was still sorry for having missed Mithrandir, at Lothlórien, last fall. Now many years had to pass, before they could meet again… but both had an important task to accomplish.

How much important these tasks were, however, none of them had any idea: this would be revealed only much farther ahead.

OOO

Author's corner:

The custom to bargain fiercely on a price is inspired to my personal experience in Egypt; at the beginning I was annoyed, but when I realised it is simply a cultural fact and I adapted to it, I began to enjoy it. Exactly like Nerwen, I received the locals' compliments, and their attitude towards me was more relaxed and familiar, helping to make my holydays more pleasant: it's nice not to feel a stranger in strange land. :-)

And I truly noticed that a wine produced and consumed on-site is better than the same wine drunk far from the production place: you can test it by yourselves! ;-)

With Dorwinion, the known lands come to an end; Nerwen is therefore going to enter in completely unknown territories. Her adventures are about to go in a different direction, literally, and we will see it in the next chapter already.

Again, I thank those who follow my fan fiction, in the hope they're enjoying it: please let me know!

Lady Angel