CHAPTER THREE: Finishing School
"Well, that looks like just about everything", said Thelandan in his slow Dúnedain drawl. They were standing together outside the home. There were extra hands to help load the wain this time, as a couple of Dwarves had come to visit Dwalin and Pelain, and were staying, as is customary, at Thelandan and Grimordel's homestead. Grimordel was pensive and showed it, as she prepared to release her baby to the wide, wild world. She had already checked every item in the wain, and was now proceeding to check them all again, to make sure that they had everything they needed for the journey.
"Stop fluffing, dear. You know I normally take much less that this when I travel much further than we will be going on this trip. He's going to have to learn to do without, that's the whole point of the exercise. You can't learn to be a Ranger if you're cosseted up with all the comforts of home all around you constantly. I've a good mind to dump some of this stuff in Bree on the way!"
"And I've a good mind to scout along with you", retorted Grimordel.
"Mother, I'll be fine", interjected Thoréandan quickly, not wanting to let the moment he's been waiting for all his life, the beginning of his 'real' training, to turn into a family picnic.
"You just mind you stay close to the wain, young man, and always keep it between yourself and danger."
"Yes ma'am, I will", replied Thoréandan as he walked up beside his mother and gave her a tight squeeze around the waist. "I'll watch and learn, that's what I'm there to do on this trip. No heroics, I promise!" Thelandan had already secretly schooled him in the words to say at this parting, and Thoréandan could see from the effect of what he was saying that his father had more of an understanding of his mother's mind than he had realized.
"I wish I was going with you", said Rúmavien, who was part of the small crowd that had gathered to see them off. Rú was now § years old and was starting to sprout upwards like a young pine.
"Sorry Rú, this time it's just me and my father and Karn, three good horses, a sturdy wain and provisions to last 6 months. You wouldn't believe we're only going to be gone for a month in total would you?" said Thoréandan, with a sly wink and smile at his mother.
"Well, let's get moving then, as that month is a-wasting while we stand here talking about it", said Thelandan gruffly, "We'll have much more to talk about when we return." He gave a shrill whistle, and Karn shot out from wherever he had been hiding and bounded up to them, ready as ever to go hunting for coneys. Thelandan climbed up onto the bench at the front of the wain, Thoréandan mounted his chestnut pony, Durg, and they set off. Thelandan's white mare Gréda was tethered to be rear of the wain.
"You still haven't told me where we are going yet", remarked Thoréandan as they walked down the hill toward the river.
"And I'm not going to either", replied Thelandan, "that will be your first lesson. With all that geography and map reading the womenfolk have been stuffing you with, you should be able to tell me where we are going."
They had passed the Ford of the Bruinen, across that great river known in the Common Speech as Loudwater, which runs down from the Misty Mountains, passing Swanfleet, and emptying eventually into the Gulf of Belegaer, forming a natural border between the lands of Minhiriath and Enedwaith. Thelandan quizzed his son on his knowledge of places and peoples, languages, birds, trees, flowers, animals and insects all along the way. They travelled far into the hills of Rhuadaur and made camp there, keeping a careful eye and ear out for trolls. The next day they came to a mighty rushing river.
"Your learning is very thorough, my son, but can you name this river that we are to cross?" asked Thelandan.
"This is the Hoarwell River, that meets the Loudwater at The Angle", replied Thoréandan confidently.
"You are correct, and come we now to The Last Bridge, by which we shall cross your Hoarwell. From here there is an old disused road leading northward. Be warned that you must never follow this road. In my youth it was the main path through the passes of the Weather Hills. Do you know why it is no longer used?"
"No, Father, this way was never mentioned to me", replied Thoréandan, astonished that at last he had come across a flaw in his learning of geography.
"And well the womenfolk should stay away from the subject too", replied the old Dúnedain. That road passes the Northern side of Weathertop Hill. This was the site of a mighty battle from of old, and a place of history treasured by the descendants of Elendil and Isildur. But the northern face of Weathertop has a cave, in which there now lives a fierce dragon named Huog. Only a fool would pass the northern face of Weathertop in these days."
"Is that the dragon that killed my brother?" asked the lad, knowing this was a topic to be wary of, even when his mother was not around.
"No son, for that dragon was Smaug, the mightiest of dragons. This is a smaller wyrm, one of Smaug's distant relatives. Even still, Huog is not to be trifled with. Dragons started to spread southwards from the frozen wastes of Forodwaith beyond the Ered Mithris Mountains in the year 2570. It is rumoured that this Huog is in fact the one and the same dragon the slew the Dwarven King Dain, in the year 2589."
"I thought King Dain was the current King under the Iron Hills."
"No son, for that is Dain II, known as Ironfoot. This King Dain was known as Dain the First."
They carried on like this all through the Lone-Lands to the south of Weathertop Hill, where talk began of the great tower of Amon Sûl and the battles between the Dúnedain peoples of Rhudaur and Cardolan, and of the Palantiri, the Seeing Stones that could be used to communicate across vast distances. One of these Stones was once kept at the tower of Amon Sûl upon Weathertop, and both Rhudaur and Cardolan desired it.
That evening they made camp in the shadow of Weathertop, and Thoréandan's dreams were filled with battles and dragons and Palantiri. Karn awoke them early that morning while chasing a coney through their campsite. On this, their third day out from Imladris, they arrived at a fortified and well fenced township.
"Father! We are come unto Bree, at the edge of The Shire of the Hobbits, the realm of the Periannath", said Thoréandan excitedly, "I shall get to meet some of the little people!"
"Indeed you shall, my son, but we shall not tarry here long, for soon our travels take us Northward."
"I have worked out where we are going, Father", announced the lad, "You are taking us to Fornost, where once our ancestors lived. The place now called Deadman's Dike. It lies to the North of Bree."
"You are close, my son, but a little off. I'll give you a clue. We go to a place that was once called Evendim."
"Lake Evendim, that is now called Lake Nenuial, and upon its shores stood the once mighty City of the Kings, Annúminas is its name. Is that where we are going Father?" Thoréandan asked with some relief, for he had heard tales of Deadman's Dike from his friend Joktan that made it the last place on his list of favourite places to travel to.
"You have guessed correctly, young man. We shall turn North at the Bridge of Stonebows, that was once called Iant Iaur, or the Old Bridge, and follow the northern reaches of the Baranduin River, that the Hobbits call the Brandywine. What is it's older name son? Quickly now."
"Esgalduin", replied Thoréandan, his thorough knowledge of history and geography shining now.
"Very good! We follow the Northern Esgalduin all the way to Lake Nenuial, in the shadow of the Hills of Evendim, and there make camp among the ruins of Annúminas. From Hobbiton it should take us another two days to get there. There I shall begin your training proper."
As Thelandan had foretold, they did not spend long in Bree, but long enough for Thoréandan to meet a few Hobbits. They spent the night in a room at The Prancing Pony, where Gandalf had taken Thelandan all those years ago. Thelandan also showed his son the home that he lived in at Bree while Grimordel lived amongst the Dwarves in Ered Luin, to the East of the Blue Mountains.
The next morning, while loading up the wain, Thoréandan noticed that the load was lighter than it had been. He remembered his father's words to his mother before they left Imladris, and did not dare ask where the remaining supplies had been taken, or to whom they were given.
"We travel one more day in the safety of civilised peoples, son, and after that we must be on our guard at all times. Heed your mother's advice to stay close to the wain."
"I shall, Father", replied Thoréandan.
