Dwimordene we called that forest north of Riddermark between the river Anduin and the Misty Mountains. As children we were told to stay away from there because Elves lived there and their Queen and that they meant us harm, and that the forest itself was haunted.
That wasn't the only story I heard as a young boy, and so I never really even gave much thought to that particular story or to that forest or Elves or any such thing that I deemed tall tales and fantasy. There was nothing about it in the few dusty books I found over the years either. They were mostly of Gondor and of wars long since fought, most likely left behind and forgotten by some merchant or the like and hardly ever opened since until I myself did so and gazed upon the old pages.
I remembered those tales of Dwimordene and the wicked Elves therein as I sat there in the ruins amongst my new tall and pointy-eared friends. There was, however, nothing wicked or scary or ghastly about these Elves. They were friendly and hospitable and welcoming, though quite clearly curious as to who I was and how and why had I come to these lands pulling a waggon of various goods of less than high value.
We rested there, Sigefaest and I, for two days. Echad Eregion I heard my new friends call this little outpost they had among the ruins of what must have been something glorious in more ancient times. To my shame I did not think to ask much at all about the history of the area, as I found myself more exhausted from the journey than I had thought, and merely slept and ate and regained my strength slowly. In my sleepy haze I would occasionally hear Sigefaest neighing and trotting upon the green grass, as happy as I was, I ween, to find a peaceful moment for once during our journey.
"Tell me, Gamferth, if you will...", the Elf who had introduced himself as Dornhador started on the evening on my second day of staying there in the ruins. "...why is it that you come through Eregion on your way to the Bree-lands?" He smiled at my surprised reaction. "For it must be that Bree is your destination. Further north are the Trollshaws and the Ettenmoors, and the slopes of the Hithaeglir, and unless foul beasts and Giants are what you're looking for..." A gentle smile lingered on Dornhador's face as he looked at me in anticipation.
"Oh...aye. Bree is where I am bound, indeed. I seek to bring this waggon to someone there, as it was asked of me to do so." Now I felt a bit silly having to reveal my reason of choosing this path. "As to why I have come here, well... I had almost chosen the road due north-west, crossing the Greyflood, yet chance bid me change my course when a snow-white squirrel led me further north."
Dornhador laughed melodically at my story and some of his friends joined him, murmuring to one other in their own tongue. "Dear Gamferth, sometimes taking a chance proves to be the right thing to do and so it might be this time, as well. That road you speak of is quite abandoned, the ruins of Tharbad and beyond home to bandits and their ilk. But dangerous are the roads through the Trollshaws and the Lone-lands, too, for goblins and other foul beings from the Ettenmoors have been sighted there."
My Elven friend's words stirred Sigefaest from his rest and he came to me, nudging his muzzle on my cheek as if in reassurance. "Yet I must go forth. I gave my word to an unfortunate soul. I haven't the heart to abandon my quest. Not now, when I am already so far from home and near to my destination."
At this Dornhador smiled even wider, yet didn't speak. Instead his gaze fell slightly to my left, behind me, and I heard another voice from further in the ruins. An equally enchanting, yet more dark and commanding one. "I will join your journey, if you would have me, friend rochir. Though no further than the borders of Trollshaws shall I accompany you, for it is there I will meet another one."
I turned around on the bench I was sat on, to face my would-be companion, and looked upon a dark-haired, gray-eyed Elf of high stature, taller than the others and clad in golden scale-mail and fine cloth of purple hues. "This is Calarchon of Imladris, of Rivendell." said Dornhador, "He comes here often, for it is his former home, as it is ours."
The tall Elf nodded at me in greeting and I hastily did the same, still overwhelmed by the presence of these curious, wonderful beings and I felt like a bumbling moron in their midst. Yet these dear Elves were ever humble and friendly towards me and my steed and not once was I treated as inferior, but as an honored guest.
"I am Calarchon, indeed, Gamferth of Rohan. But unlike my dear Dornhador suggests, I come here at Echad Eregion not out of longing for my long lost home. Lord Elrond himself has sent me and my sister Luiniel to find out what stirs in the Trollshaws and so close to Rivendell. She forded the Bruinen and I searched here. It is to her I must go next, and would accompany you and your sturdy steed on your journey towards Bree for ours is the same road for a time." The dark Elf uttered in his strong voice, eyes fixed on mine.
The names he spoke were alien to me, as never had I heard of this Rivendell or its Lord. But inferior as I already felt, I did not dare reveal my ignorance and merely nodded along as he addressed me. "Aye... that would... I would be honored to have you travel alongside me and my Sigefaest, Master Calarchon. Truly honored." Sigefaest neighed at me, clearly amused at my awkwardness.
Calarchon's lips curved into a small smile and he nodded. "It is settled then. We must rest now and leave before first light. Should we make haste we will reach the Ford of Bruinen before nightfall tomorrow." At that he turned around and vanished in the darkness of the ruins, and I was left sitting dumbfounded at the familiar fireplace, listening but not hearing the other Elves talk and sing under the darkened sky of Eregion.
