This town was larger and the activity of it made Ethir Varanduin seem like a drip of honey, and Arthrad Lumren the bustle of the ants. The boats tied at the river's edge were various sizes, not just the small fishing boats of the coastal settlement. A palisade of logs encircled the buildings, and armed Men were on watch at the wall.

When they emerged from the trees there was a strip where the trees had been cut back from the palisade. As they crossed the cleared area, townsmen were gathering about the gate.

"Ho! We made good time!" called out Dairuin. A murmur of greeting swelled into loud questions, and Glorfindel could not but notice the eyes upon him, even as the owners of those eyes spoke to their kin.

"Who travels with you?" asked one of the guardsmen who had come from the guardhouse to join those at the gates. Glorfindel saw that his gear was finer those already at the wall, and did not answer as he and the others dismounted. He waited, looking to Dairuin first, allowing him to answer if he would.

"This is Glorfindel, one of the Firstborn; he seeks his kin of Lindon. He joined us in Ethir Varanduin." That silenced the questioners for a moment, as none could think of why an Elf would choose to travel there. "There was a fierce storm on the sea, and his boat was driven in." The explanation seemed to spawn as many questions as it answered.

Glorfindel inclined his head courteously and looked around with interest at the town and townsmen. Dairuin turned to him. "As this town is far larger than Ethir Varanduin, there is an inn for those who trade to stay at. Many of the others will stay with kin or friends here, but I will make arrangements for the two of us, if you will permit it."

Glorfindel smiled his agreement, and Dairuin addressed the guard captain. "Greetings Rhadruin. We are weary but I would go to the hall and give Baragund what news there is from Ethir Varanduin. And Baragund will want to greet our guest."

Amlach came up with a lead rope, and offered it to Glorfindel who attached it to Galvorn's halter with a soothing murmur to the horse. But when Amlach reached for the rope the horse jerked his head away. Glorfindel thanked Amlach, but took the lead himself. "Perhaps after I have cared for Galvorn, Amlach will guide me to the hall?" At the young man's nod, Glorfindel turned to follow the rest of the party to the stables.

*~*~*

The town's Hall was built of round river stones, held together with crumbling mortar. The inn adjoining boasted the same construction, and appeared of an age with the Hall. A wise ancestor of the current chief had built these, the only fortified points in town once the palisade was breached. It had not happened often, but the buildings had proved their use on occasion in the past. And the Inn proved its use frequently- the public room was the social center for the town, and a source of information for Baragund whose sister kept the inn. Dairuin would enjoy the warmth and mirth there later.

Dairuin came into a cold stone room where Baragund sat by the fire with a mug of ale. Baragund gestured him in and toward a wooden chair. Rhadruin poured ale for them both as Baragund asked questions.

"Tell us of Ethir Varanduin and the south, how fare they?"

Dairuin considered his words. "The crops flourish, the town grows, but not as fast as might be. There is a feeling as if a man lived on an island and knew that somewhere in a cave there was a wolf, and he waited in fear for the wolf to discover him and attack. They are uneasy there. The Wildmen prey on them even close to the town. They live nearer to the East than you, and they fear it greatly."

"And what of the West? Did you learn anything of the Men from the Sea?"

"Gundor knew only the talk we have heard."

Rhadruin was impatient. "Why should we care overmuch about this? The Wildmen will not march against us, and we have nothing the Sea Men would want."

Dairuin looked pityingly at him. "Nothing? You have heard the talk of forests razed and lands taken in the south, down by the mouth of the Greyflood."

"Rumors, idle talk." He shrugged.

"One of my kin returned to Evendim telling of bare land and ruined villages, and a thriving port. Whether it is the Sea Men or the evil in the east that has done this he could not say, but something cut the forest and drove off those who lived there!"

Baragund held up his hand. "Cease bickering. Rhadruin, I don't know how much I believe of what is said these days either, but we must hear it. Even if none of it is true, some will think it is and will buy or sell differently because of it. We can profit from rumors as well as truths, if we but discover them."

Dairuin's eyes flicked over both men and returned to catch Baragund's gaze. "Do not make the mistake many have made of discounting any breath of trouble."

"You left hurriedly a month ago to see to Gundor's stranger, and we did not speak much. Were you so concerned then?" Baragund asked.

"Aye, and more so now. Did you hear that we were attacked by a band of Wildmen on the way? Better armed than ever in the past?"

Rhadruin looked at him sharply. "If that is so, how did you escape injury or loss? I saw you at the gates, and all appeared unhurt, and you had a full complement of horses."

"Yes," said Dairuin, "and much of that is due to Glorfindel. Without him we would have lost men and beasts on this journey."

"That one? He looks barely grown to manhood, beardless and slender. You would think him fit for nothing but to sing beside Master Gethron." Rhadruin snickered at the thought.

Dairuin replied evenly, "He is no youngling. He speaks and fights as one who has seen many battles, and the Wildmen were turned back without loss to us only by his aid. He knows well the ways of war and we have learned much from him. An Elf may look delicate, but do not think that all their time is spent singing lays, or crafting objects of beauty; they are fell warriors also."

Baragund poured more ale. "Peace!" he said tiredly, "we'll not learn more by arguing." He turned to Dairuin. "So Gundor's stranger, the Elf, what have you learned of him? Is he from Lindon, and if so why land at Ethir Varanduin? Does he have some secret purpose that the Elves have not told Men?"

Dairuin was careful. "I do not believe that. He told of a storm that drove his boat in, and Gundor said that there had indeed been such a storm over the sea. Glorfindel says he is not from Lindon, but from the lands of the West, yet he says he has lived in Middle-earth in the past. From what I have seen of him, I believe him to tell the truth."

"Did he say where he is from?"

"He mentioned the City of Gondolin, and spoke as if he had been a warrior there, but I do not know where it lies."

Rhadruin was impatient. "We will ask him." He made as if to stand, but Baragund was not finished.
"Who will he serve?"

"That, he has told me. He travels to Lindon, and speaks of serving the High King; he names the king Gil-galad, and that is a name I have heard."

"You have visited Lindon?" Rhadruin asked, amazed.

"A few times; we travelled there on trade. I know only merchants; members of the King's court would have no need to meet traders. I have learned only a small amount of their language, but some speak our tongue."

Baragund waved this away. "You will wish to rest and refresh yourself. I must welcome our visitor, will you ask him to the hall? Or does their custom demand I visit him?"

"He does not stand on ceremony. I believe him willing to use the customs of men while he is among us." He hesitated, and continued resolutely, "I believe he is great among his kind, a commander of others." Baragund met Dairuin's eyes. It was clear he understood the warning, although he gave no indication if it would be heeded. Rhadruin appeared bored.

*~*~*

Galvorn having been settled, Glorfindel walked through the town with Amlach. Many glances at him were awed, many were fearful. Baragund welcomed him into the hall, dismissed Amlach, and offered wine brought north from the lands east and south of Ethir Varanduin, and thus precious and little seen. Glorfindel received the cup in the spirit offered, thanking his host with great courtesy. Rhadruin took up his cup and held it, watching the Elf.

Glorfindel saw that the younger man was clearly uneasy around him, but Baragund was less so, and greeted him. "I bid you welcome. Is there a way in which we may serve you, Lord?"

"Your people have served me well with their company and friendship. I owe a debt already to the village of Ethir Varanduin, and do not wish to add more. I but seek the courtesy of your town for the week that the traders will rest, and then I will continue north with them, there to find my kin."

"Will you tell us aught of what news you bear? Tales of the West, or talk of the Men from the Sea?"

"The West is as it ever is, a place of bliss for those who dwell there. As to the Men of the Sea, I know only such little as one travelling with them for a time may know. Tar-Súrion is King now, but he draws toward the end of his days, nearing his fourth century. I do not know what sort of Queen his daughter will make, but have no cause to think ill of her. Those of their line have been mighty rulers, and friends to the Eldar. Would that it shall ever be so."

"And will these Men be friends to the Men of Eriador?" This was the crux of the matter to Baragund.

"It has been so in the past, and we may hope for the same in the future. But alas! Just as not all who serve the shadow appear foul or are evil, so not all who fight against the shadow make wise choices or see clearly."

Baragund's eyes narrowed slightly. "We will speak more of this when you are refreshed. Traveller's tales are always welcome in the evening, and new songs even more so. I hope you will favor me with more conversation when you are rested. For now, I entrust you to my sister's care for your comfort."

When the Elf had withdrawn, Rhadruin turned to Baragund with questions. "Why not ask him more? He told us nothing; we don't know where he is from or why he is here!"

Baragund sighed. "Rhadruin, if Dairuin believes that this is a Lord of his kind, it is likely so. It is ill-mannered among them to question much without offering food and rest first unless the need is urgent. He will be here a week. We have time."

*~*~*

Dairuin had returned to wait beyond the hall for Glorfindel, sitting at ease on one of the benches in the square of which the inn and hall made up two sides. The traders had passed through on the trip south not four weeks ago, and as always, the inn was unchanged- only those who came and went differed. Baragund's sister greeted Dairuin warmly, but seemed frightened of Glorfindel. She gave him a room to himself, presented as a compliment to his presumed status. Dairuin suspected it was given more as their hostess would think others too uneasy to share a room with one of the Firstborn.

The woman nodded to her daughter, and they were conducted to their chambers by Asgareth. Looking at her eyes and her manner, Dairuin was reminded of his thoughts on the trip south - this one would chafe here in Arthrad Lumren. Though it was the largest of the river towns and the inhabitants considered it the center of life along the river, their focus was narrow, their knowledge of the outside world scant. They knew little of other folk, and next to nothing of the dangers abroad beyond the Wildmen and the River.

Asgareth was newly grown to womanhood, and brash as one of the few in town used to strangers coming and going, and accustomed to seeing armed men of various sorts at the inn. But her eyes grew wide at the sight of Glorfindel, obviously no man.

*~*~*

Later in the evening the travelers went to the public room of the inn. Those of the town with coin and liberty to do so would frequent these rooms in the next days, hoping to hear tidings or new songs, or at least catch a glimpse of the stranger. Dairuin was interested to see Gethron, the only bard the town boasted, sitting comfortably by the fire, waiting eagerly. He could almost hear the tale that would come of this night: The Elf and Arthrad Lumren.

There was a buzz of talk when they arrived, but sufficient politeness to wait until they were seated and had mugs of ale, before excited questions tumbled out: about the West, the Sea, and Ethir Varanduin. To Dairuin's eye Glorfindel enjoyed it all, but he doubted that it showed to any who knew the Elf less well. He answered questions about what the West was like, about the Land of the Men from the Sea, and about Elven-lore. As expected, many voices joined in calling for a song. Glorfindel smiled and looked to the bard enquiringly. The bard smiled back in anticipation, and reached down to place a small harp and a lute on the table before him, his gesture an invitation.

Glorfindel gravely inspected the offerings, pronounced them worthy instruments, and selected the harp. He bowed slightly to his now-quiet audience. "Of what shall I sing?"

Many voices spoke simultaneously: "The Elder days!" "Far off lands!" "Heroic deeds!" He waited for the tumult to lessen. "I will sing you of Finrod and how he met Men in Beleriand long ago." He sang of that ancient meeting and most listened, enthralled. His voice was rich and strong as he told of Finrod Felagund harping to the Men newly arrived in Ossiriand.

At the enthusiastic reception and the urging of the group, he sang a few more tales, some accompanied by Gethron on the lute, some alone. At length he begged off, and finally agreed to one more, saying, "I will tell you of your forefathers, the Tale of the Men of Dor-Lómin, in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears."

The tale was told lovingly and sorrowfully, of those who came to oppose the Enemy, of bravery and treachery, of hope unlooked for and hope destroyed.

Glorfindel stopped and sipped his ale. He sang next of the despair -many and valiant were those who died in that battle - Man, Elf and Dwarf fell trying to rid Middle-earth of the Shadow.

Eyes darkened with memory, he sang of the end: for at the last the Elves and Men stood strong together, "But Hurin bid the Elf-king of Gondolin save his host, saying, 'Go now, lord, while time is! For in you lives the last hope of the Eldar, and while Gondolin stands Morgoth shall still know fear in his heart.' And when Turgon would demur, Hurin prophesied, 'out of your house shall come the hope of Elves and Men.

This I say to you, lord, with the eyes of death:
though we part here forever,
and I shall not look on your white walls again,
from you and from me a new star shall arise.' "

Glorfindel plucked a few chords, sweet and hauntingly sad as if the harp cried, and spoke solemnly:

"The tale is oft-told by those who returned, and told again to sons and daughters, to brothers and sisters, of the bravery of the Men of Dor-lómin.

"And at the last Húrin stood alone; axe in hand he hewed all those who came against him, slaying seventy of his foes, and as he slew he cried: 'Aurë entuluva! Day shall come again!'

"And though taken and bound and tormented, yet for those left there was also hope - for his words to Turgon were true. From Huor brother of Húrin, sprang Tuor, who wedded the king's daughter Idril. And of them came Eärendil the blessed who sailed to Valinor and returned with the Valar to defeat Morgoth at long last."

Now with his eyes raised to gather his audience, he sang at last, "These are the mighty Men who were your sires."

The harp was very soft as Glorfindel repeated the last line. Many in the room wept, and all called their acclaim for the tale.
He inclined his head slightly to the crowd, and more deeply to Gethron, and bade all a good night.

*~*~*

The next morning Dairuin invited Glorfindel to accompany him about the town. They stopped to watch the guardsmen drilling; blades flashing in the sun as Rhadruin directed the practice. The man was past first youth but not yet of middle years, tall, and with the golden brown hair that seemed characteristic of Arthrad Lumren. "Magor served in this guard for a time, not so long ago. Had he stayed, he would have the captaincy now." Glorfindel heard Dairuin's unspoken comment: this would have been a better choice.

"Do many in the guard choose to travel and learn other ways?"

"Not enough. Too many think it is sufficient to be strong and fast, and feel themselves skilled if they can defeat other guardsmen. They know little of the world beyond the town's borders, or at most they have travelled to other river towns. Magor, and Gethron, and perhaps one or two others are the only ones of Arthrad Lumren who have been north of the Great Dwarf Road, or more than a few days ride east or west of here." Dairuin stopped speaking then, seeing Rhadruin approach.

Rhadruin greeted both of them, turning to Glorfindel after the greeting. "The men tell me that you are a warrior."

"I was a warrior once," Glorfindel acknowledged.

"No more?" He seemed disappointed.

"The skills have not deserted my hand, but my heart prefers other paths now," he said diplomatically. "But I come to serve my king. Were I given my choice of service, fighting is a poor second, but at need I will fight."

"Hmm. Magor has told me of your skill. If you take pleasure in the contest, will you consent to pit your skill against mine in the practice yard?"

"Of course, Captain. I would find it most interesting."

Most of those present would hope for their townsman to triumph, but many still looked at the Elf with curiosity and expectation. Rhadruin was known for a sharp tongue and direct ways. Dairuin was amused to see that when Glorfindel had rapidly braided his hair back, a girl pushed through the crowd to give him a lacing to tie it. Glorfindel smiled at the young woman and thanked her. Then he gathered up the weight of the golden strands, twisted, tied, and tucked the bound hair beneath the collar of his tunic.

Glorfindel picked up the blunt practice blades in turn, feeling the balance. "This one will serve."

Rhadruin shrugged impatiently. "It is a practice blade, they are much the same."

Dairuin watched, wondering if Rhadruin really understood the skills of Elves, and of this Elf in particular. He scanned the group that had drifted over to watch. Several soldiers of the town guard, merchants, idlers and stable boys, and even a woman or two. His eye picked out Asgareth, and his lip twitched. Whether the outcome of the contest was one Rhadruin wished to boast of or not, Baragund would have all the details by sunset.

Even though they but sparred with blunted blades, underneath was deadly purpose, at least on the part of the Man. Dairuin well knew that while this might be sparring in name, to Rhadruin it was deadly serious. He hoped Glorfindel understood that. Glancing at the Elf's calm expression, his eye was caught by the suggestion of a nod. Glorfindel was well aware and desired to reassure his friend.

The play of the blades was quick and fierce. High guard, low guard, … Rhadruin was sweating. Glorfindel was calm and looked the same as when he had instructed the traders on the journey. Every parry caught on the flat of his blade and displaced, every step smooth and flowing - appearing inevitable afterwards, as if no other movement would have served quite so well. He did not seek to disarm or win immediately, but rather to prolong the bout, and that was obvious to anyone with any experience in the matter. It was incredible skill, combined with delicate courtesy, and Dairuin doubted that Rhadruin was appreciating either at this moment.

Still appearing completely at ease, Glorfindel slid inside the other's guard and the sword point was at Rhadruin's chest. The bystanders roared, and Rhadruin looked as if he did not know what to say. Glorfindel inclined his head, lowered his blade, and thanked him for a good match.