In An Age Before – Part 114
Chapter Seventy-nine
Loeg Ningloron and Anduin – The Third Age of the Sun
Now the rumor of which Lady Nimrodel had spoken, that some of the Periannath had returned from Eriador to the lands 'nigh the River Gladden, was of interest to Helluin, though of less interest to Beinvír. That some had fled east was known to the Laiquendi. Whither they had gone was not. Still, they questioned Rúmil upon the southern border and Orophin upon the river marches when they met, but of them, little lore did they gain, for Haldir's two brothers were charged with keeping watch upon the borders and seldom roamed so far afield. The Gladden, (which the Elves called the Ninglor), lay some forty-five leagues north and 'twas seldom visited for its own sake. Most going thither from Lórinand made their way to the headwaters whither a high pass through the mountains led down upon its far side into Eregion, some fifty miles north of Hollin Ridge. Lying halfway 'twixt the Redhorn Pass and the High Pass at the headwaters of the Bruinen, 'twas the most direct route from Lórinand to Imladris. So the two ellith asked after the Halflings amongst King Amroth's messengers, but no more did they learn.
"When first I met the Periannath in the company of Barlun in T.A. 1002, I had already walked right past their settlement," Helluin told Beinvír, "and save for his introduction I should have known 'naught of them. 'Tis little wonder that Amroth's messengers have seen none, heard none, and met none, for towards strangers they remain secretive."
"All the more likely if 'tis from the war they had fled," the Green Elf added, "and should we go thither, no doubt from us as well shalt they hide."
"And searching blindly for them may take long and yield 'naught," Helluin said. For a moment she remained silent in thought. "One way we might chance; to seek for a homestead of the Men of Barlun's kindred. Their homes art far easier to find and perhaps one of them know'th 'aught of the Periannath, for 'twas of them that I learnt of the Halflings aforetime."
The Green Elf nodded in doubtful agreement. The settlers themselves were rare. Still, they had no other pressing business, and freely wandering the land was ingrained in the Laiquendi.
So 'twas that upon 10 Nínui, (February 10th), of T.A. 1432, that Helluin and Beinvír took their leave of Orophin upon the banks of Anduin and marched north. They came first to that place Helluin recalled as being the homestead of Berlun son of Brulun, whom she had met in S.A. 151 as he desperately defended his home against an attack by the Yrch. Now no trace of that place remained. Even the mounds and stones that had marked the graves of Berlun and his wife Grinda had long since vanished; the only traces being contained in Helluin's memory and a barely remembered myth of Berlun's folk.
Three days later, having followed a well-traveled path, they looked out from the boughs of a tree some seventy miles upriver. Thither they spied a homestead, but 'twas 'cross the water upon the eastern side of Anduin, whilst they were upon the western bank.
"Well doesn't that just figure," Helluin muttered in disgust, eyeing the thin column of smoke rising from the cabin's chimney.
Beinvír shook her head. Where they stood, some seventy miles lay 'twixt the banks of Anduin and the eaves of Mirkwood, and to have seen 'aught of the settlers at all was remarkable to her. Should they not practically stumble o'er a homestead upon the west side of the river, (whither the land was up to one hundred miles wide 'twixt Anduin and the Hithaeglir), they would indeed find themselves seeking blindly for a hidden village of the Periannath.
After a week afoot they came to those lands called by the Elves the Loeg Ningloren, the Gladden Fields in Westron, a pleasant place of ill-repute whither Isildur and his sons had been slain, and the One Ring lost. Once long ago the two ellith had started upon a journey to the Gladden Fields. That had been following the marriage of Elrond and Celebrían in T.A. 109, but they had ne'er finished that journey, for upon their crossing of the Hithaeglir, they had met Barlun and joined him in the rescue of Naugrim traders taken prisoner by the Yrch. During their escape, Beinvír had been wounded and Helluin had carried her all the way back to the Hidden Valley where her life had been saved by the Peredhel.
'Twas 17 Nínui, (February 17th). No crop growth would they see so early in the year, making the lands of the Periannath, if any, all the harder to find. Indeed they reckoned their best chance would be to seek for fields lying fallow, and perhaps with luck, some wisps of smoke from the hearth of a home dug 'neath the ground. The Gladden ran for 'nigh on 30 leagues 'twixt Anduin and the Hithaeglir, and so the ellith knew they had some 180 miles to cover when counting the land upon both banks. The choice then became how far inland from each bank to search. Even were they to range but two miles inland, t'would mean examining some 360 square miles for a small, and no doubt well hidden village. The prospect left them shaking their heads.
"This seemed a good course in Lórinand," Helluin muttered whilst gazing towards the mountains in the distance.
"Perhaps if we merely enjoy this land for itself, the lesser shalt be our disappointment should we not find the Periannath," Beinvír reasoned, "and the greater our reward should we actually do so. And whether yea or nay, the greater shalt be our enjoyment of the land and our time in it."
Helluin gnawed on that thought a moment. Once upon a time she had been an explorer first and foremost. Such had been her desire and her inspiration for leaving the Blessed Realm long ago. The righteous quest for the Silmarils that had driven the Noldor had been a convenient excuse and a cause for enjoying the company of many friends upon the road. That that road had become bitter and bloody had not dissuaded her from seeking new sights and new surroundings. Just when, she wondered, had all that changed? How long had it been since she had thought herself, Helluin Maeg-mórmenel, an explorer of the Host of Finwë?
"As e'er thou art correct, melien nín, and all the more do I love thee for thy wisdom," she admitted as she wrapped Beinvír in a hug. "O'er the years I have forgotten much, t'would seem. I thank thee for the reminder."
"I think that oft art unexpected treasures found, and all the sweeter is the finding for it," the Green Elf said whilst keeping her arms wrapped 'round Helluin, "and 'tis worth recalling that the Periannath, like my own folk, wish not to be found."
In 1343 of the Second Age they had each found such a treasure, though neither had known it at the time. Upon the road 'twixt Lindon and Ost-in-Edhil they had met for the second time, and they had seldom been separated since.
"So then we shalt explore and enjoy this land together," Helluin said, "and we shalt do so in our own time and at our own pace."
Arm in arm they walked upstream from Anduin, and now more of their attention was upon each other then upon the land. At night they camped and listened to the songs of the wind and the running waters of the Gladden. During the days they heard bird song, the scolding of squirrels, and the soft rustling of smaller creatures in the underbrush. So they passed the spring, and the warming months of Nínui, Gwaeron, and Gwirith, (February, March, and April), came with the lengthening of daylight, the migration of waterfowl, the growth of new leaves, and the blooming of flowers, but without discovering any signs of the Periannath. The grass and trees spread no rumor of the Halflings, and the earth betrayed no whisper of their light-treading feet.
Now the month of Lothron, (May), came in as the days grew long and warm. Upon the afternoon of the 23rd the two ellith were walking a path 'nigh the bank of the Gladden, and they were now some seventy miles upstream from its confluence with Anduin. A cry and a loud splash they heard, followed by rustic curses in a sputtering mortal voice. 'Twas certainly no Elf, for it spoke neither Sindarin nor Silvan and held none of the melodic quality of the Elder Kindred.
To the river they hastened and thither stopped dead in their tracks, for frantically floundering in perhaps a yard of water some two fathoms from the bank was one of the long sought Periannath. Beyond him, drifting downstream with the current, was a pathetic collection of branches which, with some imagination, might have been called a raft. Despite his predicament, he spied the two ellith immediately.
"A bit o' help, eh? Can ye not see I be drownded t'me death in this rapids?"
Helluin stifled a chuckle and Beinvír rolled her eyes. The current was mild and the water shallow so near the edge. Helluin stepped down the bank and waded in. Some four strides later she reached out and hefted the Halfling clear of the water by the back of his shirt collar. The river reached just 'nigh her waist.
Once safely back on land the Perian expressed his thanks in the developing Common Tongue that would become the Westron of the War of the Rings.
"Dregla's me name 'n ye has me thanks, m'dam Elf," he said as he sadly eyed his raft spinning off downstream.
"Pleased t'meet ye, Dregla, tho sad o' the means 'n the loss o' ye raft. Helluin's me name 'n this be Beinvír. Glad t'be a help to ye."
"What brought ye on the water 'n into such danger?" the Green Elf asked with a straight face.
"That dratted boat 'n want o' fish," Dregla answered, adding the self-evident, "gotta eat, ya know."
As much and as oft as possible, if I know 'aught of the Periannath, Beinvír said to Helluin silently eye to eye.
'Tis a bit of a stretch to call that pile of sticks a boat, Helluin replied. I find myself amazed that he hath survived so long already.
"Hazard t'be an anglerman," Helluin said to Dregla, "and ye folk I knew t'be farmers."
"Aye, farmers we were in th' old country," Dregla agreed with a nod whilst hitching a thumb o'er his shoulder towards the Hithaeglir, "but took up new ways, we did. 'Sides that, we be Stoors. Left b'hind the Fallerskins 'n Hairfoots¹," he told them, adding with a grim expression, "prob'ly all stone dead b'now." ¹(Fallerskins 'n Hairfoots, aka Fallohides and Harfoots. Fallow is a very old color name in English, (c.1000AD), a light tan-brown, approximating the color of resting fields with sandy soil.)
"When yer folk came t'Gladden?" Helluin asked.
The Perian scratched his head, thinking for a moment, then said, "ages ago, in me gaffer's time, when th' Big Folk's wars come t'the old country. Weren't no right place for us t'be."
The Noldo nodded in sympathetic agreement, though the idea of 80-odd years being 'ages ago' struck her as humorous. Then she recalled the strange cosmology of Bobo Fallohide, the ill-fated, long-ago mayor of Furrylong, whom she had met in T.A. 1002 in the company of the settler, Barlun. Bobo was the first Perian she had e'er met.
"Th' world ends at th' mountains. It's always ended at th' mountains. We all know't. I should ask ye, how can a land be green 'n fertile when th' sun crashes down the mountains' far side each eve? Common sense tells such a land would be burnt t' cinders long ago."
According to the Laiquendi, the Stoors had come to Eriador o'er Caradhras 'round T.A. 1150. They had fled the opening wars with Angmar about T.A. 1350. Their old terror of Dol Guldur had paled before their fear of the Witch King, and they'd been driven back into the very lands from which they'd fled 200 years aforetime. 'Twas sad and ironic, and probably fear of the Necromancer had faded to myth whilst their fear of the Witch King was current. 'Twas more ironic that the Sorcerer and the Witch King had been one and the same.
"'N what o' the forest 'n th'dark tower?" she asked, looking east toward distant Anduin and Mirkwood beyond, where to the south lay Dol Guldur.
"Bah...myths 'n legends t'fright the ch'illins," Dregla said with a chuckle.
Incredible! They have forgotten their fear of so short a time ago, Helluin said silently to Beinvír. Doomed art they to relearn their fear when Yrch again roam these lands.
'Tis so with mortal and immortal alike, to forget lessons learnt aforetime, the Green Elf replied whilst sadly shaking her head. 'Tis but the spans that mark the difference.
For a moment Helluin thought on this and knew the truth of it. Warning the Perian now of his peoples' future peril would do 'naught but upset him. She switched topics.
"Ye folk make a good livin' o' fish?"
"Aye, that we do," he replied. "More vex'tous be boats, cursed things. Now I've t'build me 'nother. Every season needs a new one t'seems."
Now the ellith debated the time and the value of teaching boat craft and the skills of a waterman to Dregla and his folk. They had little else pressing and the skills would be a great aid to the Stoors in seeking their living as anglers. But fate would not have it so. As they stood together, the Green Elf's sharp ears reported soft footfalls approaching and she looked Helluin in the eyes.
Three come hither, fleet and soft afoot. They art Eldar, I am sure of it.
Helluin nodded and listened a moment, marking the footsteps of three Elves now, still some distance off, but approaching directly.
"Some o' our folk come," she told the Perian, to which he immediately started shaking his head.
"Best t'be seen by none so I thank ye 'gain 'n wish ye well."
Ere the two ellith could voice a protest, he scuttled off into the foliage and in a few strides had disappeared. His footfalls were scarcely to be heard. Left behind, Helluin shrugged and Beinvír shook her head.
"Let us make our way back to the path, meldanya, and meet those who come," she said.
Now when they stood again on the path, the approaching footsteps were clear, and they reckoned that those coming 'nigh would have heard their own footsteps as well, for they had not moved with stealth. Indeed 'twas just so. When they came into sight, Helluin and Beinvír recognized them as messengers from Imladris, and the three ellyn from the Hidden Valley met and hailed them as friends known aforetime.
"Greetings, Helluin and Beinvír," said Fónathron¹, the leader of the messengers, "'tis a great bit of luck to have found ye, for we bring word from the Lord Elrond." ¹(Fónathron, Cloud Weaver = faun(cloud) + nathron(weaver) Sindarin. In proper names, the diphthong –au simplifies to ó)
"And thou hast found us indeed, unlikely as t'would seem," Helluin replied, "though whyfor thou should seek us hither, I know not."
"Tidings have come to our lord from Cardolan, saying ye had come o'er Caradhras to Lórinand," Fónathron said. "Finding ye hither has saved us much travel."
"Then glad art we for it. What word then from Lord Elrond?" Beinvír asked.
Fónathron's joy at having found the ellith dissolved and his features became grim.
"The Dúnedain of Cardolan report that their border guards received tidings from errand riders of Gondor making for Tharbad on the South Road 'twixt the Enedwaith and Dunland. 'Tis said that the rule of King Valacar, son of Rómendacil II Minalcar, has passed to his son, Prince Eldacar, who took the crown upon 1 Lothron (May 1st). But many in the South Kingdom reject Eldacar as being of impure blood, saying that no kingdom of Westernesse shalt endure the rule of lesser Men. Some favor Castamir, the grandson of Minalcar's brother, Calimehtar, he being foremost amongst other potential claimants. 'Tis great unrest now in Gondor."
Upon hearing these tidings, Beinvír groaned and Helluin shook her head.
"Eldacar's birth name was Vinitharya, and he is the son of Valacar and Vidumavi, a princess of the North Men and the daughter of King Vidugavia," Fónathron told them.
Five generations back at the head of Vidugavia's line was King Ërlick, whom the two ellith had befriended in T.A. 1002. So the Lord Elrond had informed them when they had met in Imladris in 1356. Now King Vidugavia's son-in-law was the right king of the greatest realm in the west of Middle Earth, but at least some of the Gondorim sought to supplant him.
Should the Men of Gondor not find agreement they shalt be riven by civil war and kin shalt stand against kin in their confusion, Helluin said silently to her beloved. In her mind's ear were Beinvír's words spoken not even a quarter hour past, 'Tis so with mortal and immortal alike, to forget lessons learnt aforetime. 'Tis but the spans that mark the difference.
"To Gondor we must go," Helluin declared, "for if in any way we can spare the Dúnedain of Anárion from falling to the same sorrows as did my people, we must act."
Alqualondë…Menegroth…Avernien….
Beside her, the Green Elf nodded in agreement. 'Twas hard for her to imagine the like amongst her own people; the Laiquendi of Eriador slaying the Galadrim of Lórinand, or those of Taur e-Ndaedelos¹, for example. ¹(Taur e-Ndaedelos, Forest of the Great Fear aka Mirkwood. Sindarin)
"Indeed such was our lord's appeal," Fónathron said, "and the time saved in finding ye hither we count as a blessing. I shalt report your purpose to the Lord Elrond upon our return. May speed and good fortune be yours upon your journeys 'til next we meet."
With their decisions made and 'naught else to discuss, they parted company then, Helluin and Beinvír taking the path east towards Anduin in haste, and the messengers turning back at once towards the Hithaeglir and Imladris.
"Many, many leagues lie 'twixt us and Osgiliath," Helluin chafed as they walked, "and to come thither ere mid-Cerveth will be a great deed. I shalt wonder not should we arrive to find Gondor ruled by Haradrim, with the Dúnedain all dead by their kinsfolk's hands."
Though less pessimistic, beside her Beinvír too was worried. They were seventy-odd miles upstream upon Gladden, whose mouth lay some 155 miles upstream of Lórinand and the mouth of Celebrant. Thence another 125 miles lay 'twixt Celebrant and Limlight, after which they would needs cross the Wold, skirting the western extension of the Emyn Muil and traversing the many mouths of the Onodló. 'Twas some 120 leagues from Limlight to Cair Andros, and another 15 leagues to Osgiliath. In all, the Green Elf reckoned they would travel o'er 250 leagues with Helluin brooding the whole way, ere arriving in the midst of a civil war.
Oh joy, she thought to herself. At this time I find myself wishing to be a hairy-footed little fisherman, and a poor one at that! The idea tickled her and she giggled at the thought, drawing an aggravated expression from her partner.
"I understand not thy mirth, beloved," the dour Noldor said. "Pray enlighten me."
"Would that we had so little worry as the Perian, Dregla," she said. "Joy he would have at 'naught but some fish and a new boat."
Yet even as the words left her mouth she realized the wisdom hidden amongst them and stopped dead in her tracks.
"Helluin! A half-week spent building a boat woulds't save us three afoot! Shalt we not do as the Stoors have done and take to the water?"
To Be Continued