The vales of the Anduin were well peopled with Men, both of the swarthy Easterling type and the fair haired descendants of the Northmen. the Vale folk dwelt in pallisaded villages surrounded by a patchwork of fields, pastureland and little woods. The country was tolerably familiar to Gondor but the young princes, rather startlingly, knew it firsthand having, Ellenion said, escorted an aged aunt many times on journeys over the mountains.
Cemendur was less surprised than he might have been. Judging by the Lady Ellemir elderly ladies of the Northern Dunedain were very different from their southern counterparts.
On the third day they came to the Gladden marshes, all green with rush and reed, and a-shimmer with the yellow iris that earned both marsh and its river that fed the name of the Golden Water. Ereinion and Ellenion rode right into the treacherous bog-land, apparently unconcerned.
Cemendur and Rumil exchanged resigned looks and followed trusting that their Ranger companions, as usual, knew what they were doing. Apparently they did for they led the Gondor Men along a winding track of solid ground, little different to the inexperienced eye from the reedy marsh that flanked it. a curve of the path brought them close to the edge of the broad Anduin.
Ereinion raised a hand for a halt, then beckoned Cemendur forward. "There," he said quietly, pointing, "across the river."
The eastern bank was fringed with iris and reed but the ground rose above it in long slopes to the dark edge of the Mirkwood. Between river and wood was a grassy mound, so perfectly circular that it could only be Men's work, with a white standing stone on its flattened top.
Cemendur knew at once what it must be. "Isildur's How." he breathed.
"So called though he himself does not lie there," Isildur's descendant agreed, "only the Men of his escort, and his three elder sons."
"Far from their own folk," Cemendur said sadly, "forgotten and neglected."
"Not at all." said Ellenion. "The How marks the southern limit of the Beorning's land east of the River. They say no Orc dares to pass it. And every Midwinter Eve they light the sunfire beneath the standing stone and watch out the night beside it."
"And of course we Rangers pay our respects from time to time as well." Ereinion turned his horse's head back into the marsh. "Come, we have a little ways more to go."
Go where? Cemendur wondered.
--
Ereinion disappeared around a clump of alders, followed by Ellenion, then Cemendur himself rounded the trees and reined to a halt so abrupt that Rumil's horse nearly collided with Culuros' rump.
There, on the other side of a strip of sparkling water, was a cobbled market square fringed by a semi-circle of child sized buildings with whitewashed walls, reed thatched roofs and little round doors and windows. Cottages of the same small size stood on nearby islets, just right for the Little People poling their flat bottomed boats along the channels of slow moving water between.
Cemendur remembered to close his mouth. Seeing the twins dismount he and Rumil followed suit.
A boat shot towards them, circling round the large island with the cobbled square to bump gently against the moist bank in front of them. A Little Man jumped out. The squint wrinkles round his eyes and stubbly beard made it clear this was no child, though far too short for a Dwarf. He was dressed all in bright rush green but with unshod and outsized, hairy feet.(1)
"Greetings Carloman." Ellenion said pleasantly.
The Little Man frowned up at him. "So it is you Padfoot, what're you got up as?"
Both princes laughed. "People keep asking us that." Ereinion complained.
"I shouldn't wonder, foolish gear for hard traveling that is."
"We are on an embassage and must do our folk credit." explained Ellenion.
The Little Man shrugged, "Whatever you say." Heglanced behind them. "Brought those big horses of yours again I see. Staying the night?"
"If we may."
"Of course, you can sleep in the Alehouse as always. Mind you'll be expected to pay the usual fee!"
--
The Alehouse turned out to be the largest of the buildings off the market square. Beams of bent alderwood formed a ceiling high enough for the Men to stand upright and the long common room had a rush strewn clay floor, crowded with miniature trestle tables and benches that filled with Little Folk. Lamp and fire were lit as the setting sun cast the long shadows of the mountains to darken the lands below.
The 'fee' it turned out was news from the world outside the marshes. Sitting cross-legged on the rushes Ellenion began with an account of their battle against the mountain Wargs.
The Little Ones listened wide eyed but when he finished an elderly man sitting close to the central hearth gave a little snort. "Got to expect that sort of thing if you insist on stravanging about the Wild instead of staying home where you belong."
"True enough, grandfather," Ellenion replied courteously. "but at least there will be fewer Wargs now to trouble you folk east of the mountains."
The old man grunted, unconvinced, and Ellenion went on recount his mother's concerns about the growing Orc population to much sober shaking of heads among his audience. Finally he spoke of Elladan and Elrohir's errand and the quarrel between the Wood Elves and Mountain Dwarves.
This elicited much rolling of eyes among the Little Folk and a few chuckles. "No doubt Elrond's sons will smooth things over as usual," said Carloman acidly, "but why those people have to make trouble over every little thing -!"
"Which people?" Ereinion asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Both of them!" was the robust answer. "Could use a little good Hobbit sense they could!"
"I agree," said Ellenion, "and so I suspect would Elladan and Elrohir."
--
The next morning the Little People produced a pair of rafts large enough to carry two horses apiece and four of their own to help pole them through the winding waterways past a second village and islets planted with grain and vegetables and a perfect half-sized mill beside a swift running channel. Finally they reached the semi-solid ground on the other side of the Gladden mouth.
After bidding farewell to their Halfling ferrymen the four travelers mounted their horses and continued southward. "My Lord," Cemendur said quietly to Ereinion, glancing over his shoulder to be sure Rumil was out of earshot. "being on the west bank of the Anduin as we are, will we not have to pass through the Wood of Lothlorien?"
"Indeed we will." the prince glanced sidelong at Cemendur, read the dismay on his face and smiled. "Don't worry, we Rangers have the permission of the Lord of Lorien to pass through his country at need."
That was all very well but what about the Sorcerous Lady of Lorien? would even the protection of her Lord be sufficient safeguard against her wiles?
--
NOTES:
1. Carloman is, of course, a Hobbit - of pure Stoorish stock - undoubtedly descended from the remnant of Smeagol's people who took refuge in the marshes for safety after the rise of Dol Guldur.