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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 152
🕑 Added 2025-08-02 23:42:36 +0000 UTCMight never make it back?
Hearing what Halbarad said, Garrett suddenly felt a strong sense of recognition.
Ordinary people wouldn't understand this statement, because they didn't know the mission of the Istari.
A total of five wizards had been sent to Middle-earth to assist the Free Peoples in resisting Sauron. Three of them were stationed in the central regions of Middle-earth, while two went to the distant East. After some time, one of those two headed further south into the Harad region.
Whether it was the East or the South, both areas were actually no smaller than the central and western regions of Middle-earth.
But there was a problem: both areas were essentially under Sauron's dominion. The Easterlings, needless to say, were outright allies of the Dark Lord.
As for Umbar, it had even developed cults devoted to the Eye of Sauron.
People only knew that the Easterlings occupied the region of Rhûn in the East and that Umbar was in the Harad region of the South. But in truth, these two powers only represented a small corner of their respective regions, they were far from the whole picture.
To the west of Mordor, you could still say there was flourishing diversity, with plenty of room for stable development. But heading East or South of Mordor... things became far less certain.
From the maps commonly circulated today, Mordor seemed to only occupy a small corner of Middle-earth.
But the truth was, that was simply the limit of what the maps could record.
It appeared as though the Free Peoples were surrounding Mordor, a small piece of land, but in reality, it was Mordor and the uncharted regions around it that were encircling the entire central and western parts of Middle-earth.
This was also why Erebor must never fall, and the Witch-realm of Angmar must never be revived.
If those two places fell into Sauron's hands, the western part of Middle-earth would be like meat in the jaws of a monstrous beast, doomed to be slowly devoured.
After all, Arnor was no more. If the Witch-realm were to return, a few Rangers alone could never hold the entire North.
Unless Garrett moved his entire stronghold to the doorstep of Angmar.
"This is the first time I've heard about the situation over there. Valuable intelligence."
"I'm glad I could be of help."
After saying that, Halbarad began to address the roast meat and bread on his plate. Judging by the speed he was eating, his appetite had clearly returned.
The East...
Garrett stared at the vast fog-covered area on his mental map, deep in thought.
Once the Easterlings settled their internal conflicts, their next target would likely be the neighboring Dale.
In the original timeline, during the War of the Ring decades later, Bard's descendants died defending Dale and Erebor. At the time, King Dáin Ironfoot stood his ground beside their fallen forms, fighting fiercely against the Easterlings until he too perished from exhaustion.
The Easterlings' assault had taken out both the leaders of Men and Dwarves in one blow. They besieged Erebor and Dale for over ten days, until the One Ring was destroyed, Sauron fell, and the Easterling army lost morale. Only then did the remaining Dwarves and Men manage a counterattack.
Gulp.
As Garrett was lost in thought, Halbarad had already finished the meat and bread on his plate and downed the last of his ale.
"I've just come up with a sudden adventure..."
Garrett lightly tapped the table with his fingers, evaluating the now much more energetic Ranger sitting across from him.
"Adventure?"
Halbarad raised an eyebrow, sensing something ominous.
"Yes, an adventure."
"I might need some help."
Garrett nodded slowly and continued, "Preferably someone agile and experienced with the region."
"Can I ask where you're planning to go?"
"The lands of the Easterlings."
"Can't you just say my name directly?"
Halbarad looked exasperated.
"I'm certainly willing to help you," he said, "but I've got some matters to attend to lately. You know, I haven't been back for a while, I need to check on my kinsmen."
"Is something wrong with them?"
"Not exactly. They're still roaming this wilderness as always. It's just... for some reason, nearly all the nearby kinsmen have disappeared. It's as if they've abandoned patrols around here."
"Maybe... because this place really doesn't need patrolling anymore?"
"How could that be..."
Halfway through his sentence, Halbarad glanced at the living legend in dark armor sitting before him, and closed his mouth.
"Well, anyway, I need to reestablish contact with my kinsmen as soon as possible. I don't even know how they've been faring lately. Honestly, if I hadn't encountered you on the road, I'd probably already be on my way."
"Where to?"
"To our hidden refuge."
"Come to think of it, I remember telling you that you and your people are always welcome to use the supplies at Wayfort. But even now, aside from you, I haven't seen a single other Ranger. Why is that? Don't tell me... you didn't pass the message along?"
In response to Garrett's question, Halbarad gave a small smile and said, "I did convey the message to our people. But... even in poverty and hardship, Rangers have their pride."
They won't accept charity without earning it. That was essentially what he meant.
"At the very least, we can manage basic self-sufficiency. And with you around, there's almost no threat remaining in this area, so they've had even less reason to stay here."
"I see."
Garrett nodded in understanding.
Not just the other Rangers, even Halbarad, who was relatively close to him, hardly ever came to Wayfort without a specific reason.
"You're heading out to find your kinsmen, right? Mind if I come along? I'm quite curious about your hidden refuge."
"Certainly, if you'd like."
And just like that, the brief journey was decided in just a few casual words.
No hesitation, once they settled the bill, the two of them left the inn and headed south, crossing into a region of hills.
---
South Downs.
This was a barren hilly region located east of the Barrow-downs and south of the Weather Hills. Vegetation and trees were scarce here; the soil beneath their feet was mixed with gravel, and the entire landscape looked grey and bleak, oppressively so.
A true no-man's land.
"You're certain your refuge is out here?"
Standing atop a ridge, Garrett squinted into the distance, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't spot any signs of habitation.
"Even orcs probably wouldn't want to come here."
"That's where you're wrong."
Halbarad called up from below, "Quite the opposite, actually. Orcs often gather on this land. And then they get cleared out by my kinsmen who appear out of nowhere."
Leading the way, he explained as they walked, "Out here in the wild, no one can detect our location. In fact, if it weren't for certain special codes and markings, even we ourselves might not be able to find the refuge a second time."
"I just hope the markings haven't changed while I've been gone, otherwise, it's going to be troublesome."
They walked in silence for a while.
Then suddenly, he raised his hand to signal Garrett to stop, crouching down to examine the ground.
"What is it?"
Garrett approached and looked, but couldn't see anything unusual.
"Something's wrong. Something has passed through here."
A sense of foreboding began to rise in his chest.
"This way."
