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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 160
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 17:34:32 +0000 UTC"It's an honor to meet you. For many years, Dorwinion has maintained strong trade relations with the settlements of the Vales. Our mutual prosperity has flourished because of it."
Inside an estate, Garrett had successfully arranged a meeting with the owner, as the founder of a free settlement, and also a lord of several territories.
Due to geographical isolation and infrequent travel, this easternmost land of Dorwinion knew very little about distant rumors.
Garrett's claims about his identity couldn't be verified in the short term. But when he revealed his enchanted blade and adopted the corresponding titles, none of that mattered anymore.
Because, unlike the tavern guards, the owner of this vineyard estate was an elf.
Elves were inherently attuned to magic and highly sensitive to mystical phenomena. And Garrett happened to be a person practically saturated with such mysterious forces. Without intentionally concealing it, to an elf, he stood out like a beacon in the darkness.
With that in mind, the estate owner had already concluded: even if the man before him wasn't some distant lord, he was definitely someone worth entertaining with respect.
"This is the finest vintage from the estate. How does it taste?"
In the estate's grand hall, the elven owner of the Dorwinion vineyard handed Garrett a crystal goblet of wine.
"Excellent. Forgive me for lacking the proper words to fully describe the flavor, but drinking this makes me feel truly joyful."
"Joy, that is the highest praise."
The elf said with satisfaction, "If a wine cannot bring joy to those who drink it, then it has no reason to exist."
"Well said. I couldn't agree more."
Dorwinion elves... were rather different.
Compared to the elves of hidden valleys or deep forests, these elves, aside from the typical grace of their kind, possessed a certain practical quality. Or to put it another way: they were grounded.
Perhaps this was a result of the strong commercial atmosphere here.
"Welcome to Dorwinion, this is the easternmost remaining elven realm in Middle-earth."
"Elven realm? But I see more humans than elves here."
Hearing this, the elven estate owner smiled knowingly and said, "At first, this land did belong solely to the Eldar, all who dwelt here were of our kindred, until some Men migrated here. We allowed them to settle, to build homes. At the time, Men were the minority. But what felt like the blink of an eye to us saw them multiply into a great population, and we Elves became the minority."
"I see."
As Garrett savored the fine wine, he felt his understanding of history had expanded once again.
Indeed, this was what happened between immortal races and those with limited lifespans.
To the former, life might seem unchanged, but to the latter, generations passed swiftly and soon populated the land.
"I've always enjoyed conversations with Elves, whether they're reclusive, warlike, or wanderers. But this is the first time I've spoken with Elves from the far east."
"Elves from the West..."
The estate owner said, "In my memory, many of our kindred in the West consider us diminished because we never beheld the light of the Two Trees."
"No, no, I didn't mean those Elves from across the Sea. I meant the ones still on this continent."
Garrett found himself at a loss for words, twitching slightly.
What was going on today? Every sentence he spoke seemed to touch a nerve.
Every topic stabbed at the heart of this Eastern elf.
"Even the Elves from the western parts of Middle-earth differ greatly from us. One clear difference is that few of our people ever migrated westward. To us, this land is already fair enough. Pride has led our western kindred to fade, yet Dorwinion has endured from ancient days until now. Over the past thousands of years, many kingdoms of Men have laid claim to this land, but we always yielded, because we knew it wouldn't endure. Men are mortal, and easily swayed by shadow."
Time was the greatest weapon of resistance.
"Different folk, different paths."
Quickly steering away from the uncomfortable topic, Garrett brought up the main reason for his visit.
It concerned the Easterlings.
"Do not go further east."
The estate owner gave the same warning as the guard.
"A great Enemy spreads his influence farther east. The Men there have been under his spell for generations."
He continued, "Long ago, I feared that their blind obedience would bring ruin to us all. Even though we remain trading partners today, all Elves know, and some Men have also realized, that this is merely a temporary facade. And this 'temporary' grows shorter with each passing day. Sooner or later, the horns of war will sound at the border, alongside the horns of Mordor..."
"There will be no such day," Garrett said this quite calmly.
The estate owner made no reply. He simply raised his goblet and said, "Let us drink."
The sound of glass meeting glass echoed softly.
This elf might not be so ordinary after all.
When Garrett left the estate, he received a pass for a ferry crossing to the east and a handwritten letter.
"May you reunite safely with your two companions, those two blue-robed staff-bearers. I haven't heard news of them in long years, bbut I know they've done much in the East for peace."
"May the stars shine upon your path."
Wait... did this guy misunderstand something?
Garrett hesitated to correct him.
Well, strictly speaking, they would be companions, even if he hadn't met them yet.
"Ehm... Thanks. And please forgive my oversight, I haven't asked your name."
"Orothir, a humble keeper of vines, from two Ages past until now, that has always been my calling."
Leaving what might be the easternmost vineyard in Dorwinion, Garrett returned to a nearby town where Men were the majority and rejoined Halbarad at the agreed time and place.
"How did your meeting fare?"
"Smoothly. At least there's no trouble at the ferry. We can cross using relatively normal means."
"Relatively normal?"
Halbarad eyed Garrett and said, "Now I'm curious, what would you consider abnormal means?"
"From the sky. Or underground. Or while invisible. Or... as long as no one sees us, then our infiltration is successful."
Didn't understand a word of that. Halbarad shook his head and changed the subject, "Well, good that we can cross normally. Then I won't need to use my backup plan."
"I gathered detailed intelligence on the terrain at the border with the Easterlings. It'll serve us well after we land. At least we won't end up like last time, getting kicked back shortly after setting foot in forbidden territory."
---
One day later, at a ferry crossing between Dorwinion and the lands of the Easterlings.
"These are troubled times, no merchant caravans permitted entry. I hope you understand."
An Easterling guard stopped the trading vessel, preventing the passengers from disembarking.
The caravan leader aboard replied, "I understand. Coin for goods, goods for coin. Once the transaction is complete, we depart immediately."
The guard nodded his approval.
A short while later, after payment was delivered to the ship, several wine barrels were rolled down and loaded onto a wagon.
They contained fine vintage from Dorwinion.
The roads of the Easterling realm were well-maintained, and thanks to a unified and efficient transport system, it wasn't long before the barrels of wine were moved into a cool, shadowed warehouse, guarded by several soldiers.
"Shift change is coming soon. We'll get a taste of that vintage later."
"That wine looks exceptional. You have to hand it to the Dorwinions, they know their grapes."
The guards outside the door chatted casually.
"But the Elves? Not so much."
"They live far too long. Everything's always under their control..."
"What was that sound?"
One of the guards suddenly raised his hand alertly, signaling his companion to silence.
Creak.
The warehouse doors groaned open. The two of them went inside to investigate, but found nothing. Nothing unusual at all.
"Sounded like it came from underground."
"Probably rats."
"My thoughts exactly."
Pop.
Not far from the warehouse, the earth suddenly opened in a wide hole.
"This method seriously never gets old."
Garrett climbed up using a set of ladders, followed closely by Halbarad.
"Hiding in barrels. A classic approach."
Halbarad added, "Just a bit dizzy, though."
"It's nightfall now. Time to get ourselves properly disguised."
While Garrett refilled the tunnel behind them, Halbarad retrieved some prepared accessories, unpinned the Star of the Dúnedain from his left shoulder, adjusted his clothing, and draped himself in local-style garments.
Finally, he applied some powder to his face and added a few strategic smudges. After all that, he looked completely transformed.
Just in the time it took to turn around, Garrett almost thought someone had replaced his companion. A few adjustments to clothing and facial details, and the difference was startling.
Now, Halbarad no longer resembled anyone from any known faction or kingdom. He appeared more like a common traveler, or a wanderer.
Wherever he looked like he was from, it definitely wasn't Gondor or Rohan. And certainly not a Dúnadan.
In this time and place, as long as you weren't from those realms, you were unlikely to be treated as an enemy in Easterling territory.
"Your turn, Garrett. You..."
Having finished his own disguise, Halbarad turned toward Garrett, and froze.
"You... don't need a disguise? Forgive me, I just realized..."
"Not quite what you were expecting," Garrett said, waving it off. "I don't truly belong to this world."
"I see," Halbarad replied, immediately understanding.
That explained it.
For certain beings, appearance was never fixed or predetermined. What they looked like simply reflected the form they had chosen.
Just like the Istari.
They wore the guise of aged Men, yet possessed more vitality than any youth.
At sunrise, the two of them separated again, each seeking the intelligence they required.
Halbarad made his way through shadowy alleys and places where vagrants gathered, even appearing near farmland from time to time.
Garrett, on the other hand, walked straight to the largest, and most luxurious-looking, tavern in town.
Sometimes, the slow flow of information worked in your favor. Just like now: the people in the tavern barely glanced at Garrett as he entered.
And even that single glance was mostly because of the faintly visible dark armor and linen robes he wore.
From his attire to his bearing, he projected an aura of being... unusual.
But no more than that, unusual, not suspicious.
Looks like someone important, judging by the garb.
Many thought so quietly.
"One cup of wine, and a serving of roast rabbit."
"Coming right up."
The barkeep replied, giving Garrett a quick appraisal before suddenly asking, "Sir, would you prefer your wine in a copper cup, silver cup, or gold cup?"
"What's the difference?"
"Just the cup. And the price increases accordingly."
"..."
Garrett fell silent for three seconds.
"Why would I pay more for that?"
"It's impressive. Makes you look prosperous."
"Then leave that for people who care about appearances."
Moments later, under the barkeep's disappointed gaze, Garrett was enjoying his expertly roasted rabbit and sipping wine from a copper cup, poured directly from the cask.
"This rabbit's quite good," he complimented.
"Tastes better than the roast rabbit I had in Dorwinion."
"You've been to Dorwinion?"
From behind the counter, the bartender, who had been listening, asked with curiosity.
"Why do you ask?"
Seeing that Garrett didn't mind some casual conversation over his meal, in fact, he seemed quite open to it, the barkeep leaned in and whispered, "I heard that place is controlled by some kind of long-lived demons. Is it true?"
Garrett twitched.
"False. Where did you hear such nonsense? And they're called Elves, not demons."
"That's what the nobles claim..."
"Right, let's drop that topic."
Your nobles are probably already under Sauron's influence, that's why they spread such lies...
Still, the locals here seemed fairly normal.
Thinking this, Garrett waved a hand and said, "In any case, the food is really good."
"We're honored you think so! Please visit us again."
No thanks.
Garrett glanced at the new recipe just unlocked in his crafting menu.
Next time, he'd prepare it himself.
"Sir, since you've been to Dorwinion, have you traveled even farther west?"
The barkeep, still curious, continued the small talk.
"I haven't been to the far west."
Truth, but not the complete truth.
The barkeep nodded knowingly, then said in a hushed tone, "I hear people out west are strange."
"I heard that in some places even farther west, people revere horses more than their own kind. And those desert folk in the south, they survive by eating serpents."
"Sigh..."
He shook his head and sighed. "This world's gone mad. Are we the only sensible ones left?"
Garrett winced.
This fellow really had a talent for offending both friends and foes in a single breath. If there were any Rohirrim or Haradrim present today, this barkeep would find himself in serious trouble.
"Do you know what orcs are?" Garrett asked suddenly.
"Orcs? If you mean those foul creatures, then yes."
"That's them. What do you think of them?"
"They're vexing."
The barkeep said, "No one likes them, sir. Even if they're our allies."
"I heard they're gathering in the capital, something about preparing for an enemy. Gods preserve us, I hope the place doesn't collapse. I've always wanted to visit and see it for myself."
The capital. Preparing for an enemy.
Garrett noted two key pieces of information.
After all that chatter, the man had finally said something useful.
