Chapter LIII: Heading for the Land of the Entwives

The following day, there was a great celebration throughout Tarsad; people improvised kiosks dispensing drinks – ale, cider, wine, fruit juices, hot infusions – and other ones selling bread, cheese, cured pork meat, buns and sweetbuns, cakes, cookies and pastries. The streets were full of feasting people who ate, drank, sang and danced to the music of hornpipes, bombardons, hurdy-gurdies, psalteries or rebecs, preferably dances with a lively rhythm beaten by tambourines and kettledrums, castanets and chimes.

Aryon and Nerwen were of course invited to the king's table, which had been set up in Burgomistress Rovena's house. To her surprise, Nerwen was bade with Aryon to sit at the left side of the king, who had to his right side his hostess and her husband.

The banquet was sumptuous; they began with a creamy soup made with pumpkin, potatoes and leeks, seasoned with black pepper, followed by a tasty mushroom pie; then there was a very soft braised beef, coming with oven-baked onions and broccoli, and after this a succulent partridge roast with stewed chards and steamed sprouts. Then, they served several types of cheese, both cottage and ripened; finally came Pallando's favourite cake, made of water chestnuts and decorated with whipped cream and chocolate powder, a delight for the palate. The courses were generous but not excessive, and there was a lot of excellent wine, both white and red.

Dancing followed the banquet. Pallando asked Nerwen the first dance, an elegant pavane with a slow and solemn rhythm that she didn't know, but was able to follow well enough; then the king left her to her husband, who was very glad to lead her in the simplest dances, which he had learned during his enforced stay in Tarsad, jigs and farandoles that amused her greatly. When the night fell, an agreed signal interrupted all parties: the moment for fireworks had arrived. Everyone took their cloaks and got out into the late autumn cool air, to admire bright pathways, waterfalls, fountains, blossoms and explosions in all kind of colours. The show lasted for a long time and prompted many admired cries; finally, they all returned inside to warm up again with one last cup of mulled wine.

Nerwen and Aryon returned home hand in hand; once there, they hanged up their cloaks and went to sleep.

OOO

The two enjoyed several days together; at Pallando's request, Rovena had exempted Aryon from this duty as the captain of the guard, which could be carried out satisfactorily by his deputy, Lieutenant Ryol; besides, he would take the office as the commander, when the prince would leave it to follow his wife in her search.

With Pallando's consent, Nerwen and Aryon set the date of their departure on October 27th, exactly one week after their return from the mysterious dimension where the Dark Portal had taken them.

The day before leaving, the two Istari went back to the cavern to destroy the spell that triggered the passage. Aryon Morvacor accompanied them, keeping at his wife's side; from his glower nothing shone through, but the possibility that the passage would accidentally be activated and Nerwen would vanish again terrified him; but this time, he would make sure to go with her.

"How shall we proceed?" Pallando asked; he was standing in front of the rocky wall covered with the Black Speech writing, but kept to a safe distance. Even if he knew perfectly that, to activate the Portal, he had to read it aloud, going nearer gave him chills, and Nerwen didn't feel differently, even with the comforting presence of her husband.

"We must cancel the writing," the Maia considered, "To engrave it, the Balrog used magic, and therefore we'll have to use magic to erase it."

"Have you got any idea about what spell would do?" the Blue Wizard enquired. Nerwen racked her brains.

"Orthel teithad gondram," she declaimed; nothing happened, "Join your power to mine," she invited her colleague. They recited the phrase together, but again they didn't succeed.

"Toba têw gondram," Pallando tried, then they repeated it together, but again to no avail.

"Lammorn leithian gond," Nerwen tried again, but they failed once more.

They tried new approaches, but they didn't reach any successful outcome. After one hour of useless attempts, the two Istari sat down, disheartened and puzzled. Aryon crossed over the writing, staring at it with deep loathing; then, in a fit of rage that startled Nerwen and Pallando, he unsheathed his sword and gashed the inscription; the indestructible Elven blade, forged by the best smiths among the Avari, left a cut that partially altered the writing.

Pallando and Nerwen gaped at each other.

"Did you feel it, you too…?" the Wizard stuttered. His colleague nodded, incredulous:

"The power of the spell has lessened!" she confirmed. Aryon turned to look at them, confused.

"Don't tell me it's simple like that…!" he muttered.

Nerwen cast him a quick glance full of perplexity, then she got up and went to watch the scratch colsely; Pallando mimicked her.

"Try again," Nerwen invited Aryon. The prince used his sword once more, this time grazing away a letter with the sharp tip of the blade. Again, the power the inscription emanated diminished slightly.

"Very well," the Aini accepted the obvious, "It truly looks like being so simple, we would never grasp it, if not by chance. Let's go and fetch more suitable tools and more capable hands."

They got outside, where not only the ever-present guards, watching the entrance and preventing anyone to enter, were waiting for them, but also the small escort that had accompanied them. They called for all the available carpenters, to provide their skills with hammer and chisel; within the hour, a dozen of masons, marble-cutters and stonecutters were working on the wall at a good pace, erasing the evil inscription and its spell. As the work progressed, Nerwen and Pallando constantly controlled the power level, until, about three-quarters through the job, they felt it dispelling entirely. As a precaution, they let them finish the job, until the writing was completely erased; to be even safer, they had the splinters grinded and the resulting stone dust dispersed into the wind. The whole procedure lasted several hours, but finally the two Istari claimed to be satisfied.

OOO

The next morning, accompanied by an escort appropriate to the occasion, they left for Pallàndim; they needed over two weeks to reach Yòrvarem's capital city, because this time, unlike during the outward journey, they couldn't avoid stopping each day in a settlement and being welcomed joyfully because of their return, which had been unhoped-for after so many decades. When they finally arrived in town, they had to accept with good grace the three days of celebrations the Counsel had planned; Lady Bryulen, a descendant of Délamin, now led the Counsel, with the title of Regent. The first ceremony was, of course, about returning full power as a monarch to Pallando, followed by a parade in the town's streets, where the inhabitants warmly welcomed back their king, who had become almost a myth in the years that had passed since his disappearance. There were lavish banquets, dancing parties, concerts and plays in Pallando's honour, which Nerwen and Aryon joined as guests of honour.

Eventually, the excited mood began to subside and life settled back to normal. The day after the ending of the celebrations, Nerwen went to the royal library, seeking for possible new documents about the lands beyond Yòrvarem; she didn't expect to find much, instead she was pleasantly surprised.

"Of course we have new maps," the chief librarian assured her, a tall and lanky Man looking only apparently distracted, "Since the king called in for you all those cartographers and explorers, before you'd leave for the Great Forest, it stuck as a kind of tradition, for those who explored new areas and made maps about them, to take a copy to our library."

He invited her to follow him and led her in a specific section of the last hall in the large library, pointing out a number of bookshelves.

"You're still free, as you used to be, to consult all the papers," the librarian assured her, "Maps, reports, everything. I hope you'll find what you're looking for," he concluded. Nerwen thanked him and began examining thoroughly each and every document stored in the shelves the librarian had showed her; the papers had been filed in chronological order, not divided by topic or author, therefore she simply began to consult the oldest ones, proceeding little by little to the present date. She expected it to be a meticulous and sometimes boring job, but Aryon's presence, who offered his assistance, made it less hard.

OOO

Several days later, Pallando summoned them both. He received them in his office, as he had done the first time; Túdhin came, too.

"I am catching up with the events occurred in the realm during the years of our absence," he announced them, "One of the most serious is that the savage peoples of the south are seemingly preparing for some imminent war, but not in the neighbourhood. There are rumours about an alliance with some sort of a power to the west; in the light of what Kementári told you, in my opinion I think it is Sauron."

Nerwen nodded grimly.

"So, the Dark Lord is truly on the move," she commented, "What are you planning to do, Pallando?"

"As soon as I learnt this news, I sent spies in Harad and to the Easterlings and the pirates of Umbar," he answered, "Also, I sent emissaries to our eastern and northern neighbours, the Valasim and the Daladim, with whom, as you know, we have excellent relationships, asking them about what they know about this, so that we can join our intelligence and have a more complete picture. I want all the possible data to better decide how and when waging war against our southern neighbours," he shook his white head, "If they are truly about to make an alliance with Sauron, we must stop them, or the peoples of the west will be attacked from two sides: squeezed between them, it is likely they will be overpowered."

"The Avari, too, should play their part in the fight against the Enemy," Aryon mused, "I could write a message for my sister, Queen Eliénna, exhorting her to keep the Easterlings occupied along the border with the lands of the Six Tribes," he suggested, "but for a messenger to get over the Orocarni, we'll have to wait for the spring thaw."

"Or he could go round the mountains to the south," the sovereign considered, "however, in this case I fear it would take as much time as waiting for spring; besides, the lands the messenger would have to cross are more hostile."

"Then better wait," Aryon concluded.

"In the meantime, we'll leave in search of the Entwives," Nerwen interjected, "If we'll find some directions in the papers that have piled up during these years, we'll follow them; otherwise we'll leave anyway, trusting in chance."

OOO

In the next days, Aryon and Nerwen went on sipping through the books and papers of the library. At the eve of her birthday, a strong feeling – a more fleeting kind of her Second Sight – convinced the Istar to dig behind a line of tomes, where she found a carefully rolled up scroll. Aryon, surprised by her frantic movements, watched her unfolding it on a table located under a window and examining it with almost wild eyes; but he avoided bothering her with useless questions.

As she was closely observing the map, Nerwen felt the embers of hope flaring up quickly into a true fire.

"There it is!" she almost shouted in happiness, "This is exactly the appearance of the land I've seen in the Mirror of Galadriel!"

The prince got near her and glimpsed at the chart from over her shoulder. Orientated northwards, as Men used to do, on the left it showed the range of the Orocarni, while on the right stood the Eastern Ocean and on the bottom the northern part of Yòrvarem. Lands they had already seen in other drawings occupied most of the middle section of the map, but it was the upper section that had filled Nerwen with enthusiasm, showing an area full of watercourses and small woods. A note of the person who sketched the map said that the region looked well-trimmed, as if cultivated, but he hadn't seen any sign of inhabitants.

"Do you see this river?" Nerwen asked, pointing at it, "It's exactly how I saw it. And this group of hills, too, and the conformation of the coast…," she turned to her husband, "Aryon… that's it!" she threw her arms around his neck, "I almost cannot believe it…"

The prince returned her hug, happy about her happiness.

"Let's leave immediately!" she exhorted him, eagerly.

"This is not the best season for a journey," he considered, "but the climate is milder, this side of the Red Mountains, therefore I think we can do it," he kissed her brow, "May I suggest to wait a couple of days? Tomorrow is your birthday and I'd like to celebrate it… the last one was 75 years ago, for me."

Nerwen squeezed him, moved.

"You're right," she whispered, apologetically, "Sure, we can absolutely wait some days, at this point it makes no difference," she raised her head to look at her husband and smiled, "I, too, want to celebrate with you my birthday," she concluded, then she sighed, troubled, "I'm so sorry I missed so many of yours, though…"

H e surprised her by kissing her at once, heedless of those who might see them in this public place.

"Let bygones be bygones," he said under his breath, "It's over, and I don't want to think about it anymore. Now we're back together and nothing else matters."

Nerwen could only agree with him.

OOO

The couple preferred celebrating privately, having their midday meal in their chambers – the same they had the previous time – with some of Nerwen's favourite food: porcini mushrooms soup, followed by a slice of veal roast with cream, coming with potatoes and beets stewed in olive oil and onion, and finishing with a strawberry jam tart. Aryon gave her a hairclip in mother-of-pearl decorated with malachite rhombuses of a bright green, a small and practical item she could take with her even during their search, which continuation was now imminent.

Pallando supplied them with everything they needed for travelling: a new tent, blankets, food, goods and a long-legged she-mule, stout but surprisingly nimble, with a light bay coat and blond tail and mane, named Kerra. As usual, Nerwen communicated with her, finding that she was stubborn, which wasn't surprising in one of her race, and rather touchy, but also generous and loyal. She thought they would go along well, and maybe, in time they would even grow fond of each other, as it had been with Thalion.

When she met Túdhin, however, Kerra was frightened and it wasn't easy convincing her the wolf wouldn't hurt her. Ultimately, it was Thilgiloth's serene attitude that persuaded her to give the predator a chance. She would need time, though, to trust him fully.

Allakos, too, didn't feel completely comfortable around the wolf yet, but at least he was slowly getting used to his presence and didn't swerve nervously each time Túdhin came near him.

The night before Aryon and Nerwen left, Pallando had a banquet prepared in their honour; at the end of the sumptuous dinner, he drank to the success of their search.

The morning after, the second day of December, Aryon and Nerwen left, heading for the area that, most likely, was hosting the Entwives; considering the distance and the morphology of the lands they had to cross, they thought to reach it in around 20 days, barring accidents.

Unlikely the previous time, when the king himself accompanied them, they left the palace on the sly, soon after the sun had arisen. They headed for the nearest ferry and crossed the Yorva, then from there they moved north-north-westward, more or less parallel to the coast, about 50 kilometres away; they would cross the realm of Dalad and for this reason, Pallando had given them a safe-conduct, and he had informed his counterpart, Queen Carysa, so that they would benefit of a free passage with no questions of sort, in case they would be stopped.

The tall range of the Orocarni, even if almost 350 kilometres away on their left, shielded the regions of the far eastern Middle-earth from the meteorological disturbances coming from the west; besides, the Eastern Ocean, warmer than Belegaer, softened the climate even more. Hence, the temperatures were appreciably higher than further west at the same latitude and snow fell only rarely in the plains of Dalad.

Following the directions on the maps they had taken with them, in about ten days Nerwen and Aryon crossed Dalad, turning slightly towards the coast just before reaching its northern border and arriving at Tregaron, a large village on the boundary, which was another river – smaller than the Yorva – called Convy.

They planned to stop here a couple of days to purchase some food, but weather worsened suddenly, bringing pouring rain and sleet, so they were forced to extend their stay for three more days. They took the opportunity to rest, with a view to the second stage of their journey.

This morning, Nerwen awoke early. Emerging from sleep, she felt Aryon's arms around her: since she had returned from the mysterious dimension she had been to, he had taken to keep her close also during sleep, as if he wanted to know where she was in every moment, even sleeping; it was clearly a consequence of the long years during which he had been alone. She regretted having to disturb him when she needed to get up, like now, but she didn't feel to deny him this comfort; and after all, she liked to sleep so close to him.

She moved extremely quietly, but after a few moments, she heard him murmur in a sleepy voice:

"Mmmmhh… where are you going, star?"

"To check on the weather," Nerwen answered, smiling in the darkness, "I'm sorry I woke you up…"

"Never mind," he reassured her, letting go of her; he turned to search blindly for flint and steel to light the candle on the nightstand and, after some moments, the small flame lightened faintly the room. Nerwen got up, wrapping herself in a woollen shawl before crossing over to the window; she opened it and moved the shutters aside, discovering a cold, but finally clear dawn.

"Looks like the bad weather is over," she observed, "We can resume our journey."

They went downstairs to break their fast in the common room, then they got ready to start; they were ferried on the other bank of the Convy, consequently leaving Tregaron and Dalad. From now on, they would wander through apparently uninhabited lands, heading north-west to a zone comprised between two large rivers coming from the Orocarni, which met at about 100 kilometres from the shores of the Eastern Ocean, forming a large triangle rich in watercourses and dotted with woods, which base was the Red Mountains. Their destination was precisely the point where the two rivers met, then they would seek a ford to cross the southern watercourse and from there they would begin scouring the territory in search of a trace of the Entwives.

OOO

Six days after leaving Tregaron, the land slowly became boggy. The map signalled this area as a strip about 20 kilometres long but wide at most four, alongside a river that coiled in the plain and that in this place branched into many minor small courses forming a marsh. There were no fords downstream, where the river became even larger and deeper as it approached the ocean; nor did it appear to be any passages upstream. To cross the river, they had therefore either to ride upstream for an indefinite number of days, until they would find a narrow and low enough place to ford, or they had to go across the swamp. This was precisely what the anonym editor of the map had done, about 50 years earlier, indicating clearly the exact point, just south from where they stood now, where the marsh was less than three kilometres wide. The sun was setting – the winter solstice had just passed and the days were very short – hence they decided to camp there and reach the beginning of the passage in the following morning, and then go for the crossing.

The night passed peacefully, even if Túdhin was a little restless.

I hate swamps, he admitted straightaway.

"Be grateful we're in winter," Nerwen observed smiling, "In summer, it'd be far worse, with clouds of mosquitos tormenting you…"

But you'd drive them away, wouldn't you?! the wolf promptly countered and the Maia chuckled, amused.

Yes, that's true, she confirmed: it was a very prosaic use of her gift to communicate with kelvar, but nonetheless very convenient.

They pitched their tent, then Aryon gathered firewood; the dampness of the place made it difficult to light a fire, but Nerwen intervened with her power, so that it could better catch the spark, and finally they obtained a nice, lively flame. Aryon put some water in a pot to make a soup, softening some strips of beef jerky and dried herbs coming from his wife's stock. Waiting for it to cook, they took care of Thilgiloth, Allakos and Kerra, freeing them from their harness and letting them graze. Túdhin instead went hunting, as it was his habit when they travelled.

After the warm meal, they arranged the fire so it would burn low as long as possible; before retiring to the tent, Nerwen raised her gaze: in the night sky, the huge constellation Menelvagor stood out, representing Túrin Turambar, the great Human hero of the First Age who, according to the prophecy, would return to fight against the Great Enemy in the Dagor Dagorath at the End of Time. At his feet, the bright Helluin shone vividly, looking like a jewel.

"I missed stars dearly, in that strange place…," she whispered. Aryon had no need to ask to what she was referring.

"Were there no stars?" he asked, surprised.

"No, sky by night was pitch black, there was no sign of light; while by day there was a suffused luminosity. If there were moon and sun, they weren't visible."

"What a strange place," he commented, thoughtful, "so different from Arda… Who knows where it's located."

"Only Eru knows," the Aini considered. The prince engulfed her suddenly in a hug and held her tight.

"It doesn't matter… What does matter, instead, is that you've come back to me, safe and sound…"

Nerwen reciprocated his hug.

"You're right, it doesn't matter," she confirmed, "All that matters is that we're back together. And mayhap we'll soon find the Entwives…" she added, tilting her head backwards to look at him. The flickering light of the fire drew flashes from his bright eyes, captivating her.

"I'm sure it won't be long now," Aryon affirmed with his characteristic little smile; then he bowed his head and kissed her.

OOO

T he next morning, they started early as usual; a couple of hours later, they found the entrance of the trail, as shown in the map, and they entered the bog. The path was rather narrow, so they had to ride in a single-file line, Túdhin scouting as usual, followed by Aryon on Allakos; behind him came Nerwen on Thilgiloth, while Kerra closed the small procession.

The wolf didn't feel comfortable at all: his dislike for swamps was really great.

It stinks, he grumbled. Actually, the odour of the stagnant water wasn't particularly pleasant even for Nerwen's and Aryon's much less sharp sense of smell.

"Hold on, old friend," the Istar exhorted him, smiling at his grumpiness, "We all need to do so."

Túdhin snorted, irritated, but gave up complaining any longer.

They trudged on slowly, advancing cautiously, careful not letting the hooves of horses or mule out of the dry ground they were treading on among reeds, sedges and rushes. It was only three kilometres, but at this pace, they would need a couple of hours; at least, they could orientate easily, because from the back of their mounts they could clearly see the plain beyond the marsh.

The place was extremely silent: no breath of wind stirring the vegetation, no chirp of birds that usually inhabited swamps, such as mallards, teals, herons, curlews, or croaks of amphibians like frogs and toads.

"It's too quiet," Aryon observed in a gloomy tone.

"You're right," Nerwen confirmed, furrowing her brow, "Actually, this is unusual…"

She had just finished speaking, when something cold and slimy grabbed her from behind.

Unseen, behind them some creatures of mud had noiselessly emerged from the murky waters of the swamp; humanoid-shaped, they had moved quickly to catch up with the intruders. They had watched them since the moment they had entered the bog and now they were attacking them.

N erwen shrieked as they hauled her from her horse; Aryon whipped around, unsheathing his sword, but he, too, was assaulted from behind and knocked down. He fought furiously against very strong arms, while Allakos whinnied in fright, attacked in turn by another creature.

Thilgiloth, too, neighed, but out of rage; she jerked to one side and escaped her aggressor, turned and reared, lashing out a powerful hit with her front hooves to the mud monster, who looked like imploding and dissolved.

Meanwhile, Kerra was kicking furiously, strenuously defending herself from her assaulter, which jumped backwards to avoid being hit; now the she-mule, dismayed but also enraged, turned and sank her big teeth into the slimy being, ripping one arm off it. The creature howled in pain and retreated, throwing itself into the marsh.

Túdhin had been the only one not assaulted, maybe because he was the smallest one and therefore they thought him the less dangerous. After a moment of pure terror, fury overwhelmed him and he hurled himself against the nearest creature of mud, the one that was trying to immobilize Aryon on the ground. He bit it angrily into a leg and the being roared as the limb was cleanly chopped off under its knee. Its grip relented and the prince could break free; he whirled his sword, cutting in half the monster, which went limp on a heap and reduced itself to a puddle.

In the meantime, a second creature had attacked and overrun Allakos, and now with a mate it was dragging the stallion into the bog as he neighed desperately, in terror. Nerwen, too, unable to get rid of the monster, was suffering the same fate, her prodigious agility completely useless against the invincible grip holding her. With a furious roar, Aryon ran toward the creature of mud, but he couldn't strike his sword without risking hurting his wife. Therefore, he let his blade fall and jumped on the monster's back, clutching his neck and wringing it with all his strength; the creature resisted, but Aryon held on. Hence, the monster let go of Nerwen to grasp the prince's arms and yanked at them, trying to break free. Being much stronger than Aryon, he would surely succeed, but the Istar, now free, unsheathed her long Noldorin dagger and, with an angry yell, sank it two-handed into the creature's chest, ripping it open to its belly. The monster screeched horribly, wriggled off Aryon's grip and stumbled toward the water, evidently trying to escape, but the prince retrieved his sword and cut it in half, as he had done earlier with its mate; this one, too, went limp on a heap, dissolving into a puddle.

For a moment, Aryon and Nerwen stood there, staring at it, breathing heavily, then Allakos' terrified neighs roused them; they turned to him, who was now half sunken into the bog, and saw that Thilgiloth had come to his aid. The Chargeress flung herself against one of the monsters that were dragging the destrier, pushing it away from him, then she turned to face the other creature, but the muddy bottom of the swamp hindered her. Aryon leapt toward his horse, plunging into the water and sinking his sword into the back of the creature still all over Allakos; the monster let go and howled. The prince drew back the blade and swept it, cutting one arm off the creature, which howled again and threw itself into the water, disappearing.

Meanwhile, Nerwen had arrived; she clutched Allakos' bite and pulled him towards the dry ground of the track; the destrier was in trouble because of the mud where his hooves had sunken, but slowly he was able to move. The last creature, figuring out the defeat, sneaked away and vanished into the swamp.

Thilgiloth, too, laboured her way back to the dry ground of the path, imitated by Aryon. They were all variously muddy and drenched, and they trembled because of the fright and the nervous tension.

Aryon came up to his wife and grasped her arm, watching her closely.

"Are you alright?" he asked her. She returned his gaze:

"I'm fine, don't worry," she reassured him, "And you?"

"Yes, I am, too… But anyway, what were those monsters, in the name of all the stars of Kiltoniel?"

The Maia needed a minute to recognise the Avarin version of Gilthoniel, the name by which Varda Elentári was known among the Elves of Middle-earth. Then she focused on her husband's question: she didn't have the time yet to reason on it, but now she thought about a possible explanation.

"I think I know," she answered slowly, "Aulë created the Dwarves because he wanted someone to hand down his knowledge as a smith and he was too impatient to await the awakening of Ilúvatar's First Born; but he didn't succeed at the first try. He used water and mud, and he dissolved all the experiments that didn't succeed; apparently, some specimen have escaped the dissolution and these creatures could have descended from them."

The prince nodded:

"Yes, it's plausible…"

They checked their animals; luckily, they had suffered no damage, but they had to rearrange Kerra's load, which had shifted and risked to fall off, while Allakos – who had had the roughest time – was still shuddering violently because of fear; Nerwen needed several minutes and all of her power of persuasion to calm him down.

"Do you think they'll come back?" Aryon asked, referring obviously to the mud monsters.

"Now they know they have no longer the advantage of surprise," she considered, pensively, "besides, if I go on listening mode, I'll be able to catch their minds approaching and therefore we'll be ready to welcome them."

He pondered their chances.

"They didn't prove very difficult to overcome," he considered, "however, we don't know how much they are: if they'd attack us in great numbers, I doubt we could handle it. Better getting out of here as soon as possible. We've passed the midpoint, let's go as fast as possible."

"I totally agree," she accepted; should they be attacked again, in this place with no kelvar she wouldn't be able to call for help anyone which could intervene soon enough.

In their soaked clothes they were cold, so they enveloped themselves in their blankets, then they got back on horse and rode on at maximum speed; Nerwen kept her special senses open to perceive the possible approach of the monsters, but they stayed away and the small company came out of the swamp with no other bad surprises.

"I doubt those creatures can go very far, outside their element," Aryon said, "but better not take unnecessary risks: let's go quickly away from here, at least a few kilometres."

Again, Nerwen agreed.

"He have to wash and change," she suggested, "Let's go upriver."

Aryon nodded and turned Allakos eastwards, spurring him to a trot; he would prefer a nice gallop, but Kerra couldn't keep a faster pace.

They rode on for about six kilometres, with the marsh on their left, until the found again the river, in the place where it began to branch into the lesser watercourses forming the bog, and they went upstream until the swamp disappeared behind them.

When they finally halted, it was well past noon. First thing first, they lighted a fire, where they put some water to boil, and set up their tent: for this day, they wouldn't ride on anymore, as they had to wash and dry the clothes they were wearing. While they were waiting for the water to become warm enough, they unloaded Kerra, then took off the harness from their horses and groomed them thoroughly. Túdhin dove quickly in the river, shook himself forcefully and ran to warm up by the fire.

I hate bathing in winter, he declared resentful.

I understand you completely, the Aini commented, sympathetically, Unfortunately, we don't have a comfortable bathtub with warm water like in Qos.

Indeed… I'll never say again that I don't like to wash into a tub with warm water! the wolf concluded with a spark of auto-irony that made her laugh.

When the water was warm enough, Nerwen and Aryon used a cloth to cleanse themselves from the dirt, donned clean garments and rinsed the discarded ones, then hanged them on a rope fastened from one tree to another. Finally, they had their meal, eating dried fruits, walnuts, hazelnuts and lembas, which Nerwen had baked before leaving Pallàndim.

"I think I'll cross a bog never again," Aryon commented with a face, while they were eating, "if only I can avoid it…"

"The problem wasn't the bog, but its hostile inhabitants," the Istar considered in a low voice, "If only I had thought about mentally scanning the area before going in…" she concluded in a depressed tone: her fault had endangered Túdhin, Kerra, Allakos and even Aryon, who had the life of the Eldar and not of the Ainur.

"No danger was indicated, on the map or on the corresponding travel diary," the prince pointed out to her, "Mayhap that explorer was lucky and the mud monsters didn't see him, or mayhap at that time they weren't here, or who knows what else… The trail looked safe: there was no reason to seek potentially dangerous creatures."

She pressed her lips together.

"Alright," she admitted, "but from now on, I'll be more cautious."

Seeing her still distressed, Aryon pulled her into an embrace and had her laying her head on his shoulder.

"Not even an Istar is all-seeing," he reminded her, kissing her hair. Nerwen inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly: her husband was right, only Ilúvatar was. She was extremely grateful for his support and she loved him more than ever. She lifted her head to look at him and smiled:

"If I wouldn't be already in love with you, I would fall for you right now, because of what you've just said," she declared, then reached for him and kissed him fervently.

He held her tight, a little perplexed, and reciprocated her.

"I don't think I've said anything so big," he affirmed when she left his lips, "but if this is the outcome, I'll say it more often…" he added with a wolfish grin. Nerwen laughed, cheering up, and kissed him again.

OOO

The next morning, they resumed their journey, leaving the river and heading again northeast, to what they supposed being the land of the Entwives. Two days later, at sunset, they reached its southern boundary, bordered by a wide watercourse, its s urface placid, which meant it was deep. They watched it: in this place, it was impossible to ford. In summer, they could cross it swimming, of course placing Kerra's entire load on a raft, but in the middle of winter this was unthinkable. The possibility that Nerwen, extending her special senses, would perceive an Entwife was infinitesimal: assuming this was actually their territory, the area was very large and the Entwives very few in number, perhaps some hundreds. However, even an Entwife would have trouble crossing, if the river was very deep.

The only solution was the one that, because of the swamp, they had been able to avoid with the former river: riding upstream until they would find a suitable place to ford it. Anyway, this was something they had taken account of, when they had left Pallàndim, therefore they weren't too much disappointed.

They camped; after setting up their tent, while Nerwen was busy lighting the fire, Aryon took his chance fishing; he was lucky enough to catch a considerably large sturgeon, which they cut transversally in thick slices and roasted on the fire, seasoning it with salt and herbs.

"We'd need a good white wine," Nerwen commented in a jesting tone, biting into a tasteful slice of fish. Aryon handed her the water bottle.

"Well, this is so white," he countered, grinning, "it's even transparent!"

The Maia laughed heartedly, and her husband with her, and their good mood cheered up their four-legged friends, too.

OOO

Upstream, the nameless river turned southwest. They followed it for five days, fording a small tributary on their side and seeing another one on the opposite bank, before finding a suitable place to cross: by now, the river had shrunken to less than half its width. It was too cold for Aryon to check its depth, as he had done with the Lavnen, after their misadventure with the Easterlings, therefore they decided to try crossing it staying on their mounts, except turning back if the water would arrive to Kerra's belly, who was the shortest. Túdhin was placed again on Thilgiloth's saddle.

The first attempt didn't work because the water was too deep; several hours later they tried again and this time they succeeded. Finally on the other side, they exchanged satisfied gazes and then rode on, heading again northwest, more or less parallel to the Orocarni – still invisible from this point because over 200 kilometres away – and leaving the river behind: in those days, Nerwen had mentally scanned the territory, seeking any sign of the Entwives; her hopes had been scarce and indeed, she had gathered nothing, therefore they had concluded they had to go deeper into the triangle bounded by this watercourse and the northern one. The Istar planned to repeat the search the way she did it in Fangorn, scouring back and forth the land between the two rivers staying in listening mode, her mind bent to pick up thoughts that could indicate the presence of the female Onodrim; but neither this day nor the following did she hear anything.

Later that night in their tent, cuddling under the blankets in their mutual warmth, the two took stock of the situation.

"The land is the right one," Nerwen declared, her head on her husband's shoulder, "The map leaves no doubts; but if the Entwives are dwindled to a few like the Ents and live very scattered, we could need weeks, before finding one…"

"The same applies if they live all together in a remote corner of this land," Aryon considered, "The area is very extensive."

"Sooner or later we'll meet them," the Maia declared firmly, "it's only a matter of time."

"Unless…," the prince began, then he paused, making a face.

"Unless…?" she urged him. Aryon sighed: he didn't want to disappoint his wife in any way, but they had to be aware even of the worst chance.

"Unless they're all dead," he concluded in a low voice. Nerwen pressed her lips together: she didn't like thinking about this possibility, but he was right. After all, the image she had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel could be referring to a time past, and now the Entwives could have become extinct.

"Yes, this is a possibility, unfortunately," she admitted, "but I won't give up until I'll have scoured every inch of this territory."

"Of course," Aryon agreed, then he thought better of it, "Anyway, even in this case it wouldn't mean they have become extinct for sure… It could be that they relocated elsewhere."

"Sure… but then, we'd have to start all over again to search for them," Nerwen grumbled in a gloomy tone, "Let's hope we'll find them here," she concluded, sighing.

"Don't think about it now," he exhorted her, kissing her brow, "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

Once more, her husband was right, Nerwen thought. She lifted her face and kissed his lips, her heart love-swollen.

OOOOO

Author's corner:

Gastronomic trivia: the cake made of chestnuts is the famous Montblanc, rather heavy but absolutely delicious.

Well, finally Nerwen and Aryon are in the place where she is sure the Entwives dwell. Is she right? We'll see in the next chapter!

Once more, I wish to thank those who are following this story; double thanks to those commenting it :-)

Lady Angel