Far to the south of Aranuir two men on horseback paused at the banks of the Gwathlo river.
“It is naught but ruin”
Aravir turned to his son.
“Yet in its day, Aragorn, Tharbad was once a great port. Mighty ships sailed up the Gwathlo to unload cargo. The Great Road passed through. Commerce once thrived between Arnor and Gondor”
“What men remain then?”
“Few and scattered, son”
“Much like us, father, and our kin then. To what purpose are we here?”
“To observe. To know if darkness should seek to possess the land”
“It is already dark, father, empty.” Aragorn swept his arm across from south to north
Aravir knew his words. They had been his decades past when his father, Aranuir had taken him to this very spot, the southern extremity of the lands they patrolled.
“And yet, who can say what will come, Aragorn. Whether in the fullness of time these lands may again flourish and our efforts and those yet born of the Dunedain will return to bring unity and prosperity to men.”
“Such are dreams, father. More likely our descendants will be like us, lone riders on the plains, shadows in the forests, names forgotten to time.”
“Perhaps. But I think fate has other plans. One yet named or even one who might take your namesake may chart a different course. Come, my dour chieftain to be, it is time we went north. It is long days ride over these wide plains to the edge of the Shire. There we will find more to cheer us”
“The Halflings?”
“Indeed. Though we are thought suspect by some, I know where we can secure a flagon of ale and some good mutton. They are not long removed from Bree and do not cringe from the presence of men, however road weary.”
“Then lead on father. Mutton has been scarce at our table for many a fortnight”