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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 280
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 01:48:11 +0000 UTCAfter having a simple meal of grilled fish by the river, Gandalf walked back together with Garrett and Bard.
They crossed over the outermost high walls, passed through the ballista and watchtower defense lines, heading straight for the very center of the city.
"The First Bonfire."
That was the name later given by the construction crews and townsfolk to the very first bonfire Garrett had lit.
Bard looked at the small, modest campsite that remained unchanged from a few years ago and said, "I heard it was here that you were ambushed."
"Along with a king and a ruling steward."
Hearing this, Gandalf turned toward him with some surprise.
"When did this happen?"
Garrett replied, "Just a few years ago, when we were surveying the road from Dale to Gondor. We happened to run into some orcs who didn't know their place."
Gandalf frowned and said, "Fortunate nothing serious happened. And you people really do keep your mouths shut, I've never once heard of this."
"Well, now you have."
"Yes, now I have."
As they chatted, the three of them climbed onto the city wall, gazing out across the land.
There were two cities: The one in the southern river bend was purely a fortress city, heavily defended; the one in the northern bend combined defense with transport, serving as a hub.
Traffic of both people and goods moving north and south had to pass through this city, Gandalf included.
In fact, his main purpose for coming here wasn't to find Garrett at all. He had simply chosen this route as the best passage between north and south. Meeting Garrett was pure coincidence.
On the wall, Gandalf spoke casually:
"Thengel and Ecthelion II, both are fine rulers.
Thengel governs with wisdom. Aside from his private life, which often draws gossip, everything else is admirable.
As for Ecthelion, he recently issued a new decree: regardless of rank or distance, anyone with talent may come and serve Gondor. He promises generous rewards and the respect they deserve.
Toward those who truly have ability, his attitude has always been quite open-minded."
In the north was Garrett, whose unbreakable defense line struck despair into the enemy. In the south, there was an enlightened and wise ruling steward. In between, the judicious Thengel, assisted by a young man named Thorongil.
Middle-earth seemed to be thriving once more.
So Gandalf thought.
But the Nazgûl and orcs stationed in Dol Guldur did not see it that way.
In recent years, Garrett and his people had built at such an astonishing speed that by the time the enemy realized it, they suddenly discovered disaster: their road back to Mordor had been cut off.
Without noticing, they'd been surrounded.
Panic as they might, the Nazgûl never ceased their own development.
Dol Guldur's strength was also growing swiftly. Trolls, Olog-hai, and other large units were being bred one after another, some even fused with local species, carrying natural venom in their bodies.
Moreover, just as mentioned before, the local creatures, the giant spiders, were quite unique.
Following Sauron's guidance, the Nazgûl captured a host of spiders and brought them back.
Being creatures of the same dark faction, and since the spiders were far weaker than the Nazgûl, it was only natural that the wraiths managed to tame a number of them, forcing them into service.
Thus, a new kind of unit was born, the Spider Legion, and the Spider Riders.
These giant spiders had astonishing climbing ability. Even while carrying an orc on their backs, they could scale smooth, sheer walls at a ninety-degree angle with ease.
Without the burden of an orc, they could climb even higher.
A malignant force was spreading quietly through the dark forest, unseen and unheard.
---
The Vales of Anduin, the town of Carrock.
This small town, located between the Eyrie and the Woodland Realm, had grown much larger compared to two years ago. The most obvious change was its expansion down to the riverbank.
At the widest part of the river, a dock had been built, with many ships moored there, cargo ships, security patrol vessels, and also merchant ships.
The merchants sailed south along the Anduin, passing the Gladden Fields, drifting past the golden woods of Lothlórien, and arriving at the North Bridge between the Wold of Rohan and the northern bend of the river.
The North Bridge had been designed with ships in mind: the space left beneath it was vast. Except for Garrett's enormous flagship, every other vessel could pass through without difficulty.
Not that the flagship could ever sail this far upriver anyway.
And with that, the final route was complete.
From the outer seas of Belegaer, to inland river transport, to the sky-road that crossed the mountains, travel across all of Middle-earth now faced no obstacles.
So long as one wasn't headed for Mordor or lands even farther, there was always a safe and open route available.
Even once-secluded realms were influenced by these roving caravans, becoming just a little more active.
The Woodland Realm, of course, needed no mention, the road now reached right up to their gates. They had long dealt with the Men of the Vales, and in recent years, influenced by the growth of Garrett's domain, their exchanges with the outside world had become even more frequent.
One could see it clearly from the taverns, which were packed to the brim on most days.
Not only the Woodland Elves: even Lothlórien, in rare fashion, engaged in trade with passing merchants. From time to time, they came out to purchase goods, bringing back novelties to add some variety to their lives.
And so the days passed, sometimes with skirmishes, but never again with great wars.
Thanks to years of effort, the orcs in Rhovanion had dwindled, driven further to the fringes, concentrated around the Black Gate and the battlefields nearby.
North of Fornost there was still friction: Angmar, the Ettenmoors, the Coldfells, Mount Gundabad, these were the gathering places of orcs, trolls, and mountain folk.
Facing the clouded Ettenmoors and the snowbound mountains stretching from them, Fornost had chosen a policy of maintaining the status quo.
The terrain there was far too difficult to fight in.
Driving the enemy out of the plains and confining them to the mountains and dark forests was accomplishment enough; there was no need to press further.
The Rangers rotated in shifts, keeping watch over the enemy-filled wastelands and snowy peaks farther north than Eriador.
Near Wayfort, in Eregion, the former dwelling place of Elves, and also the western entrance to Khazad-dûm, a watch post had been established.
Soldiers were stationed there, keeping constant guard over Khazad-dûm's West-gate. Yet ever since the last great war, nothing had stirred. No orcs had come out.
Some speculated that all the orcs within had been wiped out during that war. Others claimed that afterward, the lord himself had gone inside again and finished off whatever remained.
Amid all these rumors, Khazad-dûm had come to be seen as something of a "safe" place.
But if anyone tried to pass through it, they would be immediately warned by the Rangers:
"With the sky-road open, and you still want to go through Khazad-dûm? Life's too peaceful for you, afraid you won't stumble into trouble otherwise, is that it?"
