Minhiriath by octopus_fool  

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Minhiriath

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The path south ran into a familiar little copse of trees, alders, willows and poplar mingling together. Elrohir knew the copse of trees from previous journeys: it was where the small path joined the Greenway. From the path, the Greenway had been visible for miles, raised amongst the moors as it was. 

The path, on the other hand, was hard to find for anyone who didn't know it was there. Two old oaks marked its beginning in the copse of trees, and then it wound north at first, before turning northeast through the swamps and marshes of what had of old been southern Cardolan before eventually reaching the Mitheithel and the Angle.

It was the shortest way from Imladris and the Angle to the Greenway and southwards, so it was quite familiar to Elrohir, Elladan, and everyone else who regularly travelled in that direction from Imladris.

Today, the Greenway lay abandoned before Elrohir and Elladan as they peered out between the two ancient oaks. They hadn't expected it to be else wise: there were few travellers these days. The hobbits and men of the Shire and Bree didn't like venturing out of their familiar lands, and people south didn't have much reason to travel north.  Only the occasional merchant from Rohan or Dunland, the rangers and sometimes dwarves used the old road, as the narrow tracks through the tall, yellowing grass and countless wildflowers proved. 

As they continued south, Elladan plucked cornflowers, bellflowers, clover, toadflax and ragwort and wove them into two crowns as he walked, setting one onto his own head and the other onto his brother's.

"You're being silly," Elrohir informed him, but shifted the crown of blues, white and yellows to sit on his head well.

He kept an eye on the small dots of trees in the marshes, mostly willows and alders, comparing them to his map and occasionally adding a sketch. They hadn't reached the area he was most interested in, but it was always helpful to keep his maps updated.

Elrohir and Elladan made camp about half a day's travel from Tharbad, picking a mossy but dry spot hidden from the road by some cherry trees. They weren't expecting trouble, but it paid to be careful, especially since Tharbad was near and had on occasion been occupied by roving bands of orcs. 

The spot was near an old farmstead. Back when the land had still been drained and inhabited, they had sometimes spent the night with the farmers living there. The cheer and light had long since faded, the fences had rotted and the house crumbled down and been reabsorbed into the landscape. There was not even enough left of it to call it one of the ruins that Elladan so loved to prod. Only a slight mound remained of it, rising above the surrounding wetlands. The cherry trees were descendants of the orchard that had once grown between the road and the farmhouse. 

Elladan left a small wreath of flowers on the mound, while Elrohir took out his flute and softly played one of the cheerful tunes that the farmers had loved and passed down through the generations. It felt oddly out of place in the wild landscape with its tangled ferns and sedges, but it felt like the right way to remember their old friends by. 

Elrohir knew that the descendants of the farmers had moved to Bree when most of their neighbours moved away and staying alone in the wild had become too dangerous. He still saw some of their descendants there when he travelled through Bree, but he doubted they knew of the old farm. It was strange to think about how differently time passed for men.

The summer had been dry, so they weren't harried by too many mosquitos that night. As Elladan dozed, Elrohir watched the moon peak out behind the cherry trees and the moonlight spread across the clumps of rushes and be reflected in the small ponds. It was too late in the year for the nightingales to sing, but a chorus of frogs croaked in the ponds and the crickets shrilled in the grasses. Occasionally, he heard an owl hoot in the distance. Eventually, the sounds lulled him to sleep as well.

 

When Elrohir woke in the early morning, shreds of mist hung above the ponds and in the rushes and sedges. The crickets and frogs had fallen silent, but the first birds were beginning to sing. Elrohir could make out a pipit singing and heard the call of a curlew. Elladan was already awake and sketching a few plants. He had already finished an orchid and was putting the finishing touches on the sketch of a sundew. 

They ate a brief breakfast, a bit sad that the cherries were not ripe yet. Then they continued their journey southwards. 

As the sun rose higher into the sky and began melting away the remaining mist, the landscape started showing signs that they were approaching the Gwathló. The ponds that lay scattered through the country were now elongated, the riverbed of ancient times having formed the landscape and still retaining water even though the course of the river had long since shifted into a new bed. More alders and willows lined the ponds and herons stalked the banks. In some places, Elrohir and Elladan could see entire colonies of the birds nesting in large poplars.

They left the Greenway just before Tharbad. While the ruins of Tharbad were fascinating to explore, they had already done so plenty of times before. Instead, they travelled southwest along the northern bank of the river.

There had once been a road there, even though it had never been as large or important as the Greenway. Now, however, it was little more than a path and more often than not, it was completely overgrown. Blackthorn and poplar thickets covered the path in many places, making the best of the dry ground of the old road. 

Elrohir and Elladan had to slowly make their way through them, or figure out a way around the densest patches. Countless small birds chided them as they did so. 

In other spots, past floods had entirely washed away the dyke on which the road had run. They had to climb down and pick their way through the swampy landscape. Sometimes, they had to push their way through rushes, other times, thistles grew on the gravely ground.

The bridges that had once crossed small streams flowing into the Gwathló had invariably been washed away. Elrohir and Elladan were glad that the weather had become warmer and that the sun dried them quickly after they waded or swam through these streams. 

Elrohir made sure to mark the places that were difficult to travel on his map and write down the easiest way around the obstacles in his notebook. 

But in many places, travelling along the old road was quite pleasant. They had a wonderful view of either the alder swamps that lined the Gwathló, or the river itself. It ran along lazily, with none of the rush of the tributaries that fed it with cold water from the Misty Mountains. Swans, geese and crested grebes drifted along the banks, and cormorants dove into the river to catch some of the countless fish. 

In the evenings, Elrohir and Elladan made camp by the river and caught some fish for themselves, grilling it over campfires made from driftwood. They watched the glow of the fire reflected in the river and listened to the hum of the insects and the secretive rustling of the trees. Bats fluttered over the river, and sometimes they saw the greenish light of fireflies dancing under the trees. 

"Can you imagine ever leaving all of this behind?" Elladan asked quietly.

Elrohir looked at the moon hanging low in the sky and shifted his feet in the sand before responding. "No. Neither for the West, nor for beyond."

Silence stretched between them for a long time. Finally, Elladan sighed. "I hope we don't have to decide for a long time still."

 

After several days of travel, the dyke of the old road became unnecessary. The marshes and swamps slowly gave way to higher, more solid land. The bank of the river turned from forests and pebbly or sandy beaches into steep banks. Colourful bee-eaters flitted to and fro, bringing insects to their chicks in the long tunnels carved into the sandy cliffs. 

They travelled along the Gwathló a little longer, enjoying the spectacle of the birds. Finally, they turned off the old road and travelled westwards. 

It was an enjoyable country for travelling through. In past times, the gentle hills in this part of Minhiriath had been some of the most fertile farmland in Cardolan. Fields of wheat, barley and various vegetables had stretched across the landscape. Fruit trees had lined the roads that connected the farms, villages and towns. 

Now, the land was a mosaic of open meadows, bush lands and small forests. The latter mostly consisted of beeches and oaks, with a smattering of hazel, rowan, and maple in between and hawthorn and elder along the edges. In some places, a number of apple, plum and cherry trees hinted at past settlements or roads. Elrohir found himself wishing they had postponed their journey so that they would be able to harvest some of the fruit. But he was optimistic that they would be able to at least eat some of the cherries on their way back. 

Occasionally, they came across old ruins that still rose from the ground like jagged memories. Elladan spent some time looking around the ruins, while Elrohir wandered about and updated his maps and notes. 

They spend an entire day in the old town of Calennan. Elrohir mapped what was still visible of the old streets, while Elladan inspected the ruins of the houses. The wooden parts of the buildings had long since rotted away, but in many cases the bluestone from which some houses had been built still stood upon each other, or lay toppled over in large piles that were being overgrown by moss, toadflax, and stonecrop. 

The old fortress where a number of kings had lived still stood, though the roof and the upper walls had long since crumbled. A variety of ferns grew from crevices in the walls, and ivy-leafed toadflax trail downwards like long green beards with purple flowers. 

Elladan pointed out a couple of old inscriptions. Some of them commemorated merchants or other townsfolk, others were in honour of Cardolan's kings. Elrohir and Elladan could still remember some of them, others they had never met or had forgotten. The line of men stretched out through history, but even though all of them had been significant in their own way, time had the tendency of letting memories crumble to dust, just like stones eventually did. They also found a withered statue of King Calemir, and Elladan took some old coins out of a building as a keepsake. 

A surprisingly cold wind was blowing, so they set up their camp in the shelter of some of the old walls, listening to the rustle of small creatures amongst the ruins in the night. Elrohir saw the eyes of a fox peering at him, before the fox hurried off to find a nightly meal.

 

The morning dawned cold but bright, the sun illuminating the dew on the plant life reclaiming the old town. They ate a small breakfast, then continued on the old road northwards out of the town. The road soon turned into a crumbling path before fading into nothingness about an hour northwards, the trees of the beech forest they were travelling through overgrowing it.

They continued on through the pleasantly green landscape dotted with wildflowers, the land under their feet slowly rising and becoming a series of hills. Eventually, they found themselves on a low ridge leading northwards. Elrohir knew that the bones of the hills were the same as those of the Ered Luin north of the Baranduin, just lower and worn down over time. 

The view from the ridge was spectacular. They could see the bright green forests and meadows stretching out for miles all around them. A few more ruins were visible in the distance. They could also see areas that were flat but without ruins, though the different vegetation showed that there had once been buildings there as well. 

Elrohir was surprised to see a few places to the east where there were actual fields of wheat, with some small houses ducked between trees.

"On the way back," Elladan said. "We should take care of our business in Eryn Vorn first."

Elrohir nodded, though he was quite curious to get to know the people living in the middle of the abandoned country of Minhiriath and find out how long they had been living there.

He took out his map and the sextant his grandfather had given his father, and began measuring and drawing the features of the landscape. Meanwhile, Elladan sketched the ridge with its grey-blue boulders, the heather, ferns and flowers. Elrohir was quite thankful that it was another cool summer day with a breeze and plenty of clouds drifting overhead. They would have felt uncomfortable warm on a clear, sunny day.

They followed the ridge for two more days before turning west. The landscape was still green and lovely, but there were now more pines and spruces mingling with the beeches and oaks in the small forests that they travelled through. Some of the forests seemed young, like the ones they had travelled through before reaching the ridge, but others felt old and wise.

The open areas between the forests were bushland more often than meadows, with gorse, hawthorn and blackthorn tangling together in dense thickets. It was more difficult to travel through this land than the areas of Minhiriath that had been more densely populated when Cardolan had still existed, but though the land felt wild, it did not feel unfriendly like some stretches of old Arnor where the magic of the Witch-king still lingered.

 

A few more days of travel brought them to the edge of a dense, ancient forest. The pines of Eryn Vorn rose into the blue sky like tall, dark sentinels, willing to protect the secrets of their lands if necessary.

Elrohir and Elladan travelled towards the eastern edge of the forest and then southwards. It did not take long for them to find the ancient pathway, and they took care to stay on it. The pine needles feathered their footsteps like an enormous carpet. While it had been warm outside the forest, it was cool and damp in it. Lichens hung from the branches like long beards, and birds flitted from tree to tree announcing their arrival. Elrohir could see the carvings in the bark of the trees, some recent and others almost as old as the woods.

Elrohir was certain that their presence had long since been noticed, but they travelled on until they reached the meeting spot. They both knew that elves were not necessarily welcome guests here, even though the two of them made the journey every few years. So it was best to abide to the terms on which they were allowed to enter and trade with the Drúedain.

They reached the clearing the next day around noon. It was a wide, open space, filled with several blue-grey boulders. The remaining clearing was filled with foxglove and willowherb, painting it different hues of pink and white. 

Elrohir and Elladan sat on one of the boulders, resting and eating their midday meal as they waited. After a while, a small group of Drúedain entered the clearing. 

Elrohir and Elladan bowed low.

The leader of the group of Drúedain, Bilm-buri-Gûrm, nodded and greeted them. It took a moment for Elrohir to adjust to the accent of his Westron.

"It has been some time since you last visited. Do you wish the same as usual?"

Elrohir nodded. "Yes." 

He spread out the goods they had brought with them to trade with, and it did not take long before they had traded some of the finely made iron knives and arrow heads from Imladris for a fair amount of pine resin. 

"It is a pleasure doing trade with you," Elladan said. "Our father values the quality of your resin for his medicine. He says it is the best in middle-earth."

"We are glad to hear that," Bilm-buri-Gûrm replied.

"What news is there from your forest?" Elrohir asked.

"My father Gûrm-buri-Gûrm died last winter, but everything else is much the same as always."

"I am truly sorry to hear that," Elrohir said. "We will carry his memory and value it."

"I thank you."

Elladan relayed some news from Bree and Imladris. "We saw some farms west of the ridge. Do you have dealings with the farmers?"

"Ah, yes. They have lived there for some time, but you can only see their lands in good weather. We trade with them sometimes. They are not friends, but they are not a bother either."

"I am glad to hear that. We are considering paying them a visit on the way back," Elladan said.

"Do that. They are always eager for news."

"We have another favour to ask of you," Elrohir said. "We wonder if it would be possible to continue on this path a little further to see the sea. Our people once lived beyond the sea, and we sometimes like to look west to remember those times. Travelling around the forest would be a long journey, so we figured we'd ask."

Bilm-buri-Gûrm discussed it at length with his companions before turning back to Elrohir and Elladan.

"We have no fond memories of people coming from the sea, but we know of elves and their funny habits. We will allow it, but do no stray from the path."

Elrohir and Elladan bowed low. "Of course. We thank you from the depths of our hearts."

 

The forest became even moister as they travelled west. Water dripped from the lichens and the trunks of the trees. Elrohir and Elladan saw and heard no sign of the Drúedain, but they were certain they were being watched, aware that they would have done the same if their places were reversed. 

Finally, the woods thinned, giving way to windswept grasses with only occasional pines which had been formed into strange, twisted shapes by the wind. The cries of countless seabirds hung in the air, and there was a familiar hint of salt on their tongues. Before long, they could hear the crash of waves against rocky cliffs.

Then, Elrohir and Elladan saw the sea, the waves glistening as the sun sunk lower. The wind swept through their hair as they sat on the edge of the cliff amongst the pink of the sea thrift. 

Beneath them, the waves crashed and gurgled against the rocks. Elrohir could see the rocks painted in different colours by the algae and barnacles growing on them. Seagulls wheeled about and on the small, rocky beach a bit further away, a group of plovers raced the waves while looking for food.

The sun sank further, illuminating the clouds in the sky in an array of yellows, pinks and oranges. It dipped beneath the waves, and darkness began to fall.

Elladan broke the silence. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like?"

Elrohir fiddled with the sea thrift flower he had picked earlier. "Yes, occasionally. But there is still so much left here to explore."

Elladan nodded. "There is. I'm sure Aman is beautiful, but when I look around, I'm not sure if it could compare to middle-earth."

Darkness fell, and they made their camp amongst the crooked pines. They looked up at the stars, and marvelled at the beauty of the world.