Out of the East

TheGardener

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Out of the East, his father had come, out of Rhun. From the one province that had carefully and quietly refused to send soldiers to serve Sauron. Along the southwestern shores of the sea of Rhun, they were also the first province to resume the trade with Laketown, Dale and Erebor and the Iron Hills. There was, by some tales, a little blood of eastern elves, or Avari as the Gondorians called them, said to be in the veins of the people of the Dhun province.
 
South and west his father had come, intending to travel to Gondor, but coming instead upon the land of Nurn, where the slaves, after the fall of Sauron, had risen against the orcs and now dwelt freely, farming to feed themselves and their families rather than the armies of their captor.
 
There in Nurn he had stayed a while before continuing towards Gorgoth, skirting the southern arm of the Ash Mountains. It was there in Gorgoth, which was already then less dark and barren than it had been, that being some ten years or so since the fall of Sauron and Barad Dur, there it was that his father had found the stone.
He had known it was something important by its strange smooth appearance, and had the warning from that Ulmo being not been enough, he would have guessed to be careful about touching it directly or looking too closely by the way the goblin skeleton was holding it and gazing at it.
This Ulmo had met him while he was in Nurn, on the shore of one of the main rivers that fed the Sea of Nurnen. It was on his instructions that he had gone to Gorgoth. He had said to look for a stone-like artifact, with warnings about looking too closely At it let alone touching it.
“Carry it in a cloth.” Ulmo had said.
Then he had had to take it to Gondor, from whom it had been stolen. If he could take it straight to the citadel in Minas Arnor, it would be best if the king was the first to see it.
“But if you pass through Ithilien, the Steward may perhaps have the strength and authority to use it, but the king would be better. The Steward definitely has the integrity to see it without using it if he does not trust his strength.”
 
And so he had carried it, covered of course, through the broken Isenmouthe, across Udun and through the ruins of the Black Gate. Orcs still dwelt in Gorgoth and Udun, but they were few and did not trouble an armed man in garb of Rhun. A few wild beasts however had thought he might make a meal, so he had made them his.
Leaving the broken Teeth of Mordor, he had gone west, away from Dagorlad and towards the northern reaches of Ithilien.
He had then headed south through Northern Ithilien, not turning aside at Henneth Annun to cross at Cair Andros, but continuing to the crossroads, for that was the gentlest road and Udun and Gorgoth had been dark and wearisome places to traverse. Besides which, the folk he met in Ithilien said that Osgiliath, while still under repair, was a sight worth seeing.
They also told him, once he had introduced himself and given his promise to cause no trouble, that while visitors were welcome in Ithilien and permitted to hunt to feed themselves, he was to take only what he needed and no more.
 
When he asked about the Steward of Ithilien, he was told that if lord Faramir was at home, he would be in his house near the crossroads, and that when at home, he sometimes did like to greet visitors to Gondor.

Having inquired at the crossroads, he was welcomed to the house of the Steward.
“I come out of the East.” He said, “I am sent with a gift for the King.”
“The lords of the East sent you?” Asked the steward.
“No. I wandered of my own accord, although I would be happy to see trade between Gondor and Rhun.”
“Then by whom are you sent?”
He hesitated before answering.
“By the voice of the water. To return something lost.”
There was a silence, then,
“I see. And what is this gift, is it the lost thing? What is it?”
“I was told that it was best for the king to be first to see it... but that the steward could also be trusted…”
He hesitated.
The steward requested his sword and then asked the guards to wait outside.
With the guards gone, he withdrew the cloth covered orb.
The steward stared at the object and reached out to touch it. But at the first touch, he withdrew his hand and signalled for him to put it away.
“Take it straight to the king. This voice, which almost sounds like something from the old stories, was right. I will send a ranger or two with you to hasten your path.Bergil!” this last word was rather a call for someone else.
 
This next event I had been wondering if I should include it here or leave it for the character whose father is currently in these events.


So he and the Ranger called Bergil made their way back to the crossroads and from there to this ruined city called Osgiliath. Old bridges had been mostly repaired, although the rest of the city was still in ruins. Bergil got them quietly past all the checkpoints.
They had lunch on the ruined shores of the island in the middle of Osgiliath. While they ate he noticed a strange stone a stone's throw away, half buried in mud. It looked a bit like the stone that he carried, only bigger, and in a strange way, maybe deeper, but not the depth it was buried at but internal depth. As he approached it he remembered the warnings about the first stone and took off his cloak that the steward had lent him to cover it.
Then, after they'd finished eating, they continued on their way.
 
Thank you Gardener! I am enjoying your fanfiction a lot and am looking forward to see what is going to happen. I especially like the rhythm of your prose and your respect for the world Tolkien created.
 
Closer to the west gate, the restoration of Osgiliath seemed to be making more progress. As before Bergil got them quietly past the checkpoints with attracting too much attention. After the final checkpoint, just outside the west gate of the city, Bergil acquired the loan of some horses.
Then they were out in the fields of Pelenor, farms and homesteads were scattered across the plain. They rode past the farms, through the townlands, along the gradual slope up to the gate of Minas Arnor, once Minas Tirith, now with a new dwarf-made gate as well as it's new (although old) name. Again Bergil got them up to the gate and through it quickly and quietly (quietly after they had left the horses in the stable outside the gate).
“I remember when another visitor, Ernil i Perrianath, took me through these gates when I was a lad.”
He said as they entered
“Master Peregrin the Took his name was. Ernil i Perrianath was the title we gave him.”
 
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