Isildur

"Is Ithilien then renewed as clean as before?" asked Galadriel with a knowing look. "Is its produce as sweet?"

Isildur caught Elendur's eye. "Well, perhaps not as much as before," he admitted. "But we have rebuilt Minas Ithil, and we have hopes that after the rains of spring have flushed the poisons from the soil that it will produce as it once did."

"Perhaps it shall," said Celeborn. "We shall see. And our hopes are with you. It was clearly a lovely land before Sauron got his claws upon it."

"But we are remiss as hosts," said Galadriel. "You have had a long journey and must be tired. Sometimes we forget that you Men desire your nightly periods of rest. Show our visitors to the best guest chambers. We shall talk again in the morning."

The men were led to a series of rooms along the outer wall of the palace. Before he went to sleep, Ohtar stood at the window and looked out over the city. The ground below was too far away to see, lost among the lower branches and the many houses below. All about them were spread the tops of the other mallorn trees. Lights of gold, yellow and white glowed from among the foliage, and he could hear singing and the voices of sweet instruments drifting up to where he stood. Far away to the east, the moon was rising above the eastern reaches of the wood, setting silver glints upon the golden leaves.

Ohtar crawled gratefully into the heap of soft woven Elven blankets and slept more comfortably and peacefully than he could ever remember.

* * *

They spent a few days resting and visiting with the Elves. The men strolled about the city, observing the Elves at their daily duties and entertainments. Isildur and his sons had many talks with the Lords or with the greater of the Elves, learning of their lore and hearing their counsel. The evenings were spent feasting and listening to singing of the ancient Elvish sagas. Verse after verse of the doings of ancient heros, most went on for many hours. One by one the men drifted off to sleep, their dreams full of the brave deeds of former ages. On their last evening the minstrels performed their newest saga, the Lay of Isildur, and Isildur congratulated the talented composer. On the following morning they prepared again to depart. The Lords accompanied them to the gate of the city.

"Go in peace, friends," said Celeborn. "I would recommend that you do not attempt to cross the mountains by way of the pass of Caradhras. Our scouts report that the snow lies especially heavy there yet. It would be very difficult for men and heavily laden horses."

"We had thought to go further north and cross by the pass that lies east of Imladris," said Elendur. "It is lower and it will have another few weeks to melt before we arrive there."

"Yes, that would be best," agreed Galadriel. "Take care in the mountains. Remember the raiders."

Isildur laughed. "I do not think orcs would attack such a numerous and well-armed party. If they did they would get a most unpleasant greeting."

"No doubt you are right," said Celeborn. "Take our greetings and good wishes to our friend Elrond. Namarië."

"Namarië, my Lord," said Isildur. "My Lady, farewell."

"Farewell, Isildur. May all your hopes and plans come true."

Then the men turned and with many waves and shouted farewells rode north around the moat that guarded Caras Galadon. Passing along a broad lane through the trees, they rode under the golden mallorns for another day before emerging blinking into the bright sunlight. The land here was low rolling hills cut by many shallow streams. The hills were covered with bright yellow grass, though their cooler northern slopes were thick with oaks. Day after day they rode over these hills, keeping the mountains on their left hand. From some of the higher hills they could catch occasional glimpses of the broad and muddy river Anduin away to the east.

On the fifth morning after leaving the Golden Wood, they topped a ridge and looked out over a wide flat land marked by many bright green fens and bogs. Beyond they could see a river coming down from the mountains and winding across the marshes to join Anduin.

"That is the Greenwood River," said Isildur. "There is a ford just to the west of the fens. And beyond are the grassy lawns the Elves call Loeg Ningloron. When father and I rode this way to the war we met some hunters there; men, but of a race we had never seen before. Their speech was strange and we could understand very little of what they said. But one thing I can recall is the name of this place, for it struck me as an odd name. Both the river and the lawns are known by the same name in their language: Gladden, they said it was called."

"Well, it gladdens my heart," said Ciryon, "for it means we are done with climbing these ridges for a time."

"Aye. Beyond this Gladden the land is flat and easy. In another week we should be at the pass, and but a few days beyond that lies Imladris."

"Yes, and mother and little Vali," said Aratan. "I am anxious to see them again. Wait till you see him, father."

"I really feel that I am about to meet him for the first time." replied Isildur. "He was but an infant at his mother's breast when I left. Curse Sauron for taking from us all those years together. I will never know my fourth son's early years. I did not hear his first words, nor hold his hands when he essayed his first steps. I myself am only a name to him. And there is no way for me to get those years back. It will take some time, I know, but I intend to bridge across those years. I truly hope and believe that now our family will be able to live in peace and even happiness again. And I am most anxious to begin. Let us ride."

They wound their way down the ridge. Near the bottom was a faint trail skirting the fens. They rode in single file, scanning the ground ahead, for here and there small green pools lay on either side of the path, marking treacherous bogs. In late afternoon they left the fens and saw the Greenwood River before them. Isildur led them to the left along its bank until they found a path leading steeply down the gravel bank. The river was wide but very shallow, and they could see the large smooth cobbles sparkling beneath the surface. They stopped to let their horses drink their fill and to refill their water bags, then splashed across the stream and up the far bank. As Isildur had predicted, the land here was flat and grassy, broken by occasional thickets of low shrubs. The grass was short, lush and green, a contrast to the dry lands they had been crossing. The narrow track they were following bore off to the east. As the sun sank behind the mountains behind them, they came to the banks of the Anduin, where the clear sparkling waters of Greenwood merged with the thick brown waters of the Great River. There between the two rivers was a fair green lawn of sweet grass, bordered on its northern and western edges by a thick forest.

"These are the fields of Gladden," said Isildur. "Let us make camp here and tomorrow set out refreshed. We should be able to make good time in the land ahead."

The men started unloading and setting up the tents. Ohtar and two others walked over to the edge of the forest to gather firewood. Ohtar was breaking up a long branch that had fallen onto the grass when one of his companions stepped out of the woods nearby.

"Whew!" the man said. "You are wise to pick wood out here in the sun. There is an unhealthy chill in yonder wood." Soon, arms piled high, they returned to the camp and started building a fire. By the time the last light had faded from the sky the men were seated about the fire, eating a good hot meal and talking happily of home.

"Well, I for one am ready for bed," said Elendur. "I hope I don't have first watch tonight."

"Oh, perhaps for tonight we do not need to set a watch," said Isildur with a yawn.

Aratan and Elendur exchanged looks of surprise. "Do you think it is safe, father?"

"I believe so," said Isildur, already spreading out his blankets. "Peace is upon the land again. It is time we laid aside the ways of war."

"I like it not," said Ohtar. "Remember the warning of the Elves."

"You were always over-eager to protect me, Ohtar. But look around. This is a wide and empty land. We have seen so sign of any other travellers for weeks. We are far from the mountains where the orcs are said to be hiding. And besides, no ragged band of renegade orcs would dare attack us. They are cowardly things, never eager for a fair fight and we have many doughty knights among us. We are as safe as houses. We must learn anew the pleasure of sleeping through a night. Let us all get a good night's rest and be ready to ride many miles on the morrow."

It was late in the evening before they rolled into their blankets to sleep. Ohtar was still uneasy and lay awake for a long time, arms folded behind his head, looking up at the stars burning down from the black sky. It seemed strange and unnatural to be lying there on the open ground, knowing there were no sentries pacing the perimeter of the camp. But no doubt Isildur was right. The war was over. It had been going on for so long that he could hardly remember what peace had been like. But now he was reminded of times years ago, when he and Isildur had hunted together in the hills of the Emyn Arnen and had slept out beneath the stars with never a thought of danger. Ohtar snorted wryly. He was just an old soldier, set in his ways. He needed to learn to relax again. He turned on his side, pulled his musty old blanket up around his throat, and went to sleep.