The next morning they climbed back down the seven levels of Cardol and once outside its gates turned southwest towards Tol Ernil, Belegon's home. The hills became fewer and lower and the gound between them soft and boggy. Occasional clumps of willow and alder gradually thickened into a dense forest of knarled and ancient trees with meres of still water gleaming sullenly among their roots.
Belegon wended his way confidently over this treacherous ground, the rest of the party strung out single file behind him and Beomann was very careful to follow exactly in Gil's tracks for he could see no path at all.
Then suddenly from up ahead he heard the unaccountable ring of hoof on stone and a moment or two later Brandywine stepped from boggy earth lumpy with roots onto a moss patched causway running arrow straight deeper into the wood. Beomann looked his astonishment at Dan who just grinned.
"Not much farther now."
Three miles later the trees suddenly gave way to a broad, mirror smooth moat reflecting the red stone walls of a castle with a long gabled roof and the pinacle of a tower showing above them. Beomann's mouth dropped open but before he could get any questions out they had clattered across the moat and through the tunnel-like arch of a massive gatehouse into a cobbled courtyard.
The gabled roof belonged to a very high, very long building of the now familiar red stone. The winter bare boughs of a huge and ancient oak tree shaded the flight steps leading up to the great door. The tower beside the hall was linked to it by an arcaded gallery raised high above the ground on stout stone piers, and had ten rows of windows, some set with colored glass, glittering in the sunlight.
No faces appeared at those windows nor did anybody emerge from the open door of the hall. The whole place was silent and empty as the Elven Princess' Castle in the Tangled Wood. Then some Rangers came out of the gatehouse to take the horses, Mortal Men not Elves, and Beomann silently berated himself for being so foolishly relieved. Maybe he *had* read to many old stories, just as his Dad had always said.
Inside the long building seemed to be one gigantic room. the sun came through big windows, so high up they looked small, and reflected off the red stone walls and vaulted ceiling causing them to glow with a warm and rosy light that made the immense and empty hall seem far less cold and forbidding than one might expect.
The floor was paved with squares of black, white and red marble. Four doors were spaced at regular intervals down each long wall, with three huge cold fireplaces set between them. A seventh fireplace, larger than the others, was centered on the curved wall behind the dais at the head of the hall with three black banners hanging above it: one emblazoned with an arc of seven stars above a single much larger star of many points; a second with a crossed bow and quiver beneath another many pointed star; and the third, hanging between them, ensigned with a green oak tree, a golden sun shining in its boughs, beneath an arch of seven silver stars.
"Where is everybody?" Beomann whispered to Dan as they followed Belegon and Gil up the length of the hall.
"Hollin or the Enedwaith or on patrol." the young Ranger answered, "they are as hard pressed here in the South as we in the North."
"Though with a somewhat different set of problems." said Belegon without turning his head. "Hollin is the land between the Loudwater and the Mountains, Beomann, and Enedwaith the country south of the Greyflood."
"But that's not our land is it?" the Bree Man asked uncertainly.
This time Belegon did look around with a smile. "Exactly right. Old Cardolan was bounded by the Road in the north, the Hoarwell in the east, the Brandywine in the west and the Greyflood in the south. Hollin and the Enedwaith have become lurking places for our enemies and we have pursued them there."
By now they were climbing up the steps of the dais. "The seven and one stars are the banner of the North Kingdom," Belegon continued. "the bow and quiver is the emblem of my House, the House of the Great Bow, and there between them is the oak and sun of Cardolan."
Beomann craned his neck to look up at it. 'That's *our* banner,' he thought with a surprising surge of emotion, 'our kingdom and our own king, near at hand in Sudbury not far off at Norbury like the High Kings.' Then with a sudden fierce determination: 'Strider - the King - is right. It *can* be that way again and it will be, we'll make it so.'
A door tucked into a corner behind the dais led to the wide arcaded passage between hall and tower. At the end of it was a double door, made of some red-golden metal brighter than copper, engraved with the oak and sun. On the other side of that was a big round room ringed by gleaming colums of dark grey stone, huge arched windows filled with jewel toned glass showing between them. A simple chair carved of some red material stood on a small dais facing the door.
Tucked behind a pillar was yet another door, this one opening onto a long stone stair spiraling around a great center post and lit by small, deepset windows. They passed one landing, shaped like a slice of pie with a door opening off it, continued on to a second. This door Belegon opened.
Beomann had time to notice no more than the room was large and bright with sunlight before a small form crying "Papa! Papa!" hurtled out of nowhere to throw itself into Belegon's arms. Only to catch sight of Aranel's children a second later and promptly wiggle free. "Lalaith, Daeron!"
"My son Bellin," Belegon explained to Beoman as the little boy happily greeted his cousins. Bellin seemed astonishingly small to be his tall father's son, a pretty child, like Aranel's two, with light brown hair and big blue eyes. "And this is my wife, Finduilas."
Beomann found himself looking up at a beautiful lady much taller than himself, though barely coming to her husband's shoulder, with a coil of golden hair and deep blue eyes. Silverlock was the only other fair haired Ranger he had ever seen and he wondered if they were related.(1)
"Beomann Butterbur of Bree," Belegon was telling his wife, "who's taken service with us."
Finduilas smiled at him. "Welcome to Tol Ernil, Beomann Butterbur."
And he turned red to the ears and couldn't think of a thing to say, though he did manage a bow. Mercifully the lady then turned her attention to her kin and Beomann was left free to look around.
It was another of those long, narrow Ranger rooms but gently curved to fit into the round tower. The outer wall was all big, peaked windows inset with the by now familiar Ranger motifs of moons and suns and stars, flowers and trees, ships and towers, in colored glass. The deep sills under them were spread with cushions of green and blue and scarlet making comfortable window seats for a number of Women and girls busily stitching away.
A spicy scent came from bowls of dried leaves and flowers standing among the litter of cloth scraps and spools of thread. Beomann realized they were making herb-bags like the ones his mother used to repel fleas, moths, and other pests. Such homely objects seemed out of place here, surely folk living in castles didn't have to worry about moth or bugs getting into the flour?
He heard Lady Finduilas tell Belegon, "Aragorn has sent another messenger." and turned.
"And what does our Lord and kinsman have to say to us?" Gil asked, an unspoken 'what now?' very clear in face and voice.
"Nothing. He is asking for tidings not sending them." Finduilas replied. "It seems he has grown impatient waiting for a reply to his last missive."
Gil snorted. "He has no idea what we are facing here in the North."
"How can he when we have agreed not to trouble him with it?" Finduilas asked reasonably. And Gil smiled ruefully.
"I know, I'm not being fair to Aragorn. No doubt he has troubles enough and to spare among the Gondorim, which is why I can't understand this obsession of his with rebuilding the ruined cities."
"That is exactly what he's asking about." said Finduilas, and lifted her eyebrows questioningly.
Gil shrugged wearily. "We are agreed Minas Sul is a hopeless case," a quick smile, "even Beomann here who is wholeheartedly in favor of Aragorn's plan. Stone has been carted away and the very foundations dug up, there is nothing left to work with. Fornost and Cardol are in different case. Only the citadels were deliberately slighted, the lower circles are suffering from the effects of pillage and time but our ancestors built sound and they could be restored with sufficient labor."
"Then let you tell Aragorn's messenger so." the lady said briskly. ******
1. They're not. Finduilas is golden haired like most of the House of Urin, descendants of Hador Goldenhead. She is in fact the sister of Aranel's late husband Ingloron.
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