It was long after nightfall when we reached the Tower Hills. The Gulf Road was well maintained and we had made good headway during the two-day ride. The Erebor Ponies were surprisingly swift and hardy and had no difficulty in keeping up with the horses.
The stars seemed brighter than previous nights and the Far Downs glowed dimly as we sped towards the junction with the East Road. As the road curved round to the west, the white beacon of the first tower peeked over the horizon. I suggested that we make camp after such a long day in the saddle.
"There is a small wood I know in the valley up ahead," Finduilas shouted.
"We should have lodged in Greenholm as I proposed," Aglahad complained.
We had argued that it would be better to cover as much distance as we could so that we would reach Mithlond early in the day. I was about to remind him of the discussion when an arrow whooshed across our path between the Dwarves.
"We're being shot at!" cried Lóni and we all veered off the road towards the hills.
I caught Aglahad's eye. "Weave!" I shouted as we sped through the valley. "Stay low in your saddle." Arrows were zipping past us like angry hornets. "How many?" I shouted to Finduilas.
"Five. Six. Warg-riders."
"Warg-riders?" Aglahad cried.
"Make for that track," the Ranger said. "Single file."
I took up the rear and hoped my pack would take any true shot. The track rose around the shoulder of a hill and soon we were on the open moorland of Emyn Beraid. The lights of the three towers welcomed and assured me. I was coming home.
"Make for the tower!" I shouted.
The track ran straight for a while then dipped, curving to the right. Above us the tower shone with pale starlight. Behind us, the firing had ceased.
"They've given up the chase!" Finduilas announced, but we kept our speed up nonetheless and climbed towards the tower. At the top of the slope, I looked back across the valley while the others rode around the tower. No orcs were visible. I went to join the others and soon I was at the wide stairs that tapered up to the tower doors.
"Come," I said after I'd dismounted. "All is clear."
We tethered our mounts to the steel hoops set into the masonry on either side of the stairs.
"What is this place?" Aglahad said, looking up at the tower.
"Looks like so many Elven follies to me," Lofar mumbled.
"This is Minas Belthil," I said. "These are the watchtowers built by Gil-galad as a gift to Elendil. We are safe here."
"Watchtowers?" Lóni scoffed. "They look more like lighthouses."
Aglahad patted Lofar's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Whoever heard of a lighthouse twenty leagues from the sea?" He gestured towards the east. "Who were they?"
"Orcs," Finduilas said.
"Orcs? On Lindon's doorstep?"
"They still have strongholds in Angmar. From time to time they stray onto the wastes north of Evendim."
"What brings them this far south?" Lóni wondered.
Finduilas looked down the valley along the track. She didn't seem to trust that they had turned back. It seemed for a moment as though she would speak but she had no answer.
"Well," Lofar growled, inspecting the fresh tear across the shoulder of his jerkin. "I thank Mahal they are not here now. That was a close call."
"Can we go inside?" Aglahad said hopefully.
"I will enter first," I answered. "The Guardian of Belthil is - eccentric to say the least."
As I climbed the thirty or so steps, a tabby cat appeared at my heels and accompanied me to the double oak doors. I sounded the large steel knocker before trying the knob. I looked down to see the cat staring back up at me. Through the small leaded window, a blue light cast wavering shadows against the curved white wall. Soon the light grew brighter and I took a step back. The cat became excited at a series of heavy clunks behind the door.
The light from the lamp dazzled me and at first I did not recognise its bearer.
"Edenithil!" I said at last. My old friend stared at me through the crack of the doorway while the cat slinked inside.
There was a strange, haunted look in his eyes but then his old wide grin changed his face. "Siri!" He pushed the door open. "Come in, come in! Long has it been?" He stepped out onto the landing and I was forced to step back. Even so, he threw his arms around me.
I laughed softly and patted his back. "Oh, nine centuries, or thereabouts."
"Have you eaten?" he said, stepping back. "Your horse eaten? Wind is getting up." He walked past me to the top of the stairs. "These your friends? See a Dwarf down there? Like Dwarves. Call them up. We have supper. Wine!"
I stared at him as he turned and strode back through the door. They were looking up the stairs expectantly. I waved them up.
But for Edenithil's lamp, the inside of the tower was in darkness. He hurried up the stairs that hugged the outer wall. I had never been inside the tower. During my few visits over the years, he had never invited me inside and we had always talked and eaten in the gardens that surrounded the tower.
I looked back to check if the others were following then I started up the stair. Another cat padded down the steps and I heard Lofar make a fuss over it. As I reached the top, I looked around in wonder; dozens of cats were climbing on the tables, reclining on footstools, licking themselves on bookcases.
Edenithil appeared from a dark stair that led further up the tower. He was carrying a bottle and some goblets.
"It looks like Berúthiel herself as moved in," I joked.
Edenithil smiled as he wafted three or four cats from the large table in the middle of the room. "Take care of the mice." He left us with the wine and disappeared back up the dark stair.
He put together a light supper of cold smoked venison and pickled vegetables. Lofar complained that there was no bread and Lóni expressed concern that there might not be enough wine. I introduced everyone and he nodded politely as each name was uttered. I kept to the pretence of calling Aglahad by his assumed name. The Dwarves were still under the illusion that he was called Eärnil.
When we were all settled down and tucking in, I told Edenithil that we were on our way to Mithlond, at which he gave us a concerned frown.
"Orcs all across High Moor these days," he said.
"How many?" Finduilas said, lifting a cat from the table and dropping it back onto the floor.
Edenithil placed a small pot of mustard on the table. "Oh many. Many, many. Found the caves. Weather Hills. Rock is soft there. Carved by rain. Many caves."
"If the orcs that had attacked us are holed up in Emyn Uial they are brave indeed."
"Caves on western slopes, Ranger. Dare not venture into Evendim. Too many Dúnedain. Too scared. Ride their wolves at night. Across plains. Hunt for food and for sport. Unwary travellers."
"How do you know all this?" Lóni said. "Cooped up as you are in your tower? Not meaning to be rude."
"I see things. I see far. Mother Lhûn is being watched. You should make for Annúminas. Many Rangers there."
I noticed Finduilas looking sidelong at Edenithil. She said nothing but I could tell she was thinking the same as me. The Rangers had better things to think about than our little venture.
"Have you sent word to Círdan?" I asked.
"Few visitors to Minas Belthil. You are the first, Siri. The first in -" He cocked his head and squinted up at the rafters. "- seventeen years."
I studied my old friend for a while. His hair looked almost violet in the lamplight but it was ragged and unkempt. His face was thinner but his eyes still shone with the same pale light. Now, though, there was a sadness behind them that I had never seen before.
Presently, Aglahad poured himself another goblet of wine. "So these orcs are running amok, unchallenged?" He was stroking a white cat that had curled up in his lap.
"Oh, Círdan knows. I have seen. Círdan knows. No passage to Mithlond these days. Many soldiers west of Tower Hills."
Lóni leaned over the table and carved more venison. "No passage to Mithlond, you say."
"None but Elf-kind may enter the Havens. Siri, yes." He waved his arm in a wide arc. "You, no." He grinned and sipped his wine. The tabby cat that had escorted me up the stair jumped into his lap. "Why go to Mithlond?"
The Dwarves eyed each other behind their goblets. I thought about keeping the truth from him but saw no reason to. I staved off the twins' protestations by charging their goblets and carving more venison. While I spoke, Finduilas guarded her portion of the table against further molestations from the cats and Aglahad lounged in his chair, sipping sleepily from his goblet.
"So," Edenithil said, "a copy of this map of Belegost sits in the Hall of Records."
I nodded. "Thorin gave it to Círdan as dowry for land in southern Ered Luin."
The Dwarves had been forced to confess that they knew of this on the night we met. They'd given me a cock and bull story of how they knew that Gror's map was somewhere in Lindon, if only they knew someone of the Elven persuasion who might escort them there. In order to save them from further embarrassment, I had cut them short with the facts.
"That is why we are going to Mithlond," said Aglahad.
"Many perils on such a journey." He looked at the Dwarves in turn. "Know pass is haunted?"
Lóni scoffed and shoved yet another slice of venison past his moustache.
But Lofar was sitting forward in his chair. "Haunted?"
"Dwarves of Nogrod. Ancient ones, murdered King Thingol. Stole the Jewel. Dwarves journeyed back home but Beren was waiting at Great River. Many Laegrim, many Onodrim. Dwarves wiped out. After world was broken, Dwarf spirits rose from river, hoped to find way back to Nogrod. But Nogrod destroyed. Now spirits haunt Pass."
We all fell into silence and listened to the fire cracking and snapping for a while. I had never heard one of the greatest and darkest chapters in the history of the Sindar retold so succinctly.
And it was Edenithil who broke the silence. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the fire. "Spirits float like shadows or dreams, destined to wander these dank and sunless paths, weeping with grief for their purposelessness."
"And these Dwarf shades," Lofar said, his voice wavering, "finding Nogrod in ruins, they settled in Belegost?"
Edenithil grinned and nodded.
"Then that is why the city was abandoned," said Aglahad.
Edenithil was still grinning and still nodding. "Stay away from the Pass of Hadhod-dîn."