The plan was finalized, authorized by the highest authority, and the project was established. Construction teams and security forces quickly arrived at the ruins of Framsburg, located in the northernmost part of the Vales of Anduin, nestled between two mountain ranges.
To the north of these ruins lay the Grey Mountains. Within those mountains was another ruined dwarven settlement, the Halls of Dáin.
Of course, this Dáin was not the one from the Iron Hills. This was Dáin I, Thorin's great-grandfather. The other, Dáin Ironfoot of the Iron Hills, was "Dáin II."
Five hundred years earlier, Dáin I had led Durin's Folk to live there, but he was slain by a cold-drake at the very gates of his halls. Shortly afterward, the settlement was destroyed.
The Dwarves then moved to the Lonely Mountain, where they founded another kingdom under the mountain. This new realm was led by one of Dáin I's descendants, Thrór, Thorin's grandfather, who became the first King under the Mountain.
Later, Men of the North built Dale at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, encountered Smaug, and the story continued down to the present day.
Looking at the busy construction teams working among the ruined city, Garrett had some thoughts.
Perhaps, when there was time, that lost dwarven settlement could also be reclaimed.
The new works proceeded smoothly.
In the year 2972, Beorn's folk, located in the midlands along the Anduin, expanded northward all the way to the ruined fortress of Framsburg at the mountain's end.
A new defensive line was established there, making it increasingly difficult for the Orcs of Mount Gundabad to move. They could only retreat deeper into the mountains. Meanwhile, the evil creatures lurking in the ruins of Dáin I's halls felt an ominous premonition, as though doom was approaching.
Thus, as the expansion continued, the valley gap between the Woodland Realm and Mount Gundabad was fully sealed.
After the northern construction near Dale, the southern Vales of Anduin were not neglected either.
At the end of the same year, construction teams went to the Gladden Fields, the very place where Isildur was ambushed, Gollum found the One Ring, and Saruman later recovered Narsil's shards.
There, they built an outpost and stationed guards, putting the marshes under surveillance from that point on.
Once matters there were settled, in 2973 Garrett headed south, crossing the Anduin to reach the northern plateau of Rohan, then following the roads all the way to Rohan's capital, where he met with Fengel.
Reuniting with an old friend was naturally a happy occasion. But beyond reminiscing, Garrett was also curious about other matters.
"How is Thorongil these days?"
"Oh, that young man."
Fengel's expression turned reminiscent as he replied, "He has shown remarkable bravery on the battlefield, and no small amount of courage. More than once he has driven back the Men of the South with his company, and as for those Orcs that seem to appear from nowhere, on one occasion they were ambushed, and he single-handedly slew twenty Orcs. If you want proof, you can ask Théoden. They once fought side by side."
"Yes, uncle."
At that moment, Théoden stepped forward to greet Garrett.
Théoden was still very young then, not yet thirty, brimming with vigor and spirit. He currently served as Marshal of the Mark, an office traditionally held by every heir of Rohan before ascending to the throne, as training for kingship.
Fengel himself should have served as Marshal before becoming king, but being somewhat unconventional, he had left home as soon as he came of age. Thus, the office had fallen to another.
"And you, Théoden?" Garrett asked casually.
The question immediately made Théoden falter.
"Eleven... I suppose my skill still needs some work."
"Not bad at all."
Garrett patted his shoulder encouragingly.
"You are already a fine warrior."
Théoden straightened up proudly, his spirit restored.
"Oh, wait a moment. Let me see that."
Garrett pointed to his chest.
Théoden glanced down, hesitated slightly, then pulled out the amulet from beneath his clothes.
Garrett took it in hand. As soon as it touched him, the power within his staff diminished, and the amulet grew brighter as it absorbed the fading energy.
Before long, it was fully restored, gleaming once more.
"It seems the battles had drained it a little. Now it's good as new."
Garrett returned the amulet to Théoden.
Théoden, seeing it clearly brighter than before, nodded and carefully stowed it away.
"Where is Thorongil? I haven't seen him around."
"He's left," Fengel answered for Théoden. "The wars have not been so pressing in recent years. Perhaps he thought it was time to take some rest."
Rest?
Garrett smiled but said nothing more.
Aragorn was not the kind of man who could sit idly in peace. At this time, he had most likely gone to Gondor, perhaps even accompanied by an old man in grey robes.
Ecthelion was very fond of Gandalf, after all. Those two would surely have much to discuss.
"Well then, I should go elsewhere now, visit some of my other old friends."
"Won't you stay a while longer in Rohan?" Fengel tried to persuade him.
"These days I've had a little more free time. I've even learned to cook a few dishes, and I was hoping to try them out myself."
Garrett paused, then answered a little tactfully, "Better not. Next time, if there's a chance, I'll properly teach you how to make something delicious."
"What a pity," Fengel sighed, looking somewhat lonely.
"Father, so you're interested in that?"
The sound of his son's voice lit up his eyes.
Théoden asked curiously, "I've never heard you mention this before. I've never even seen you step into the kitchen."
"Indeed I've never said it. But I see the curiosity in your eyes. Remember to come home for dinner tonight. I'll prepare a feast for you myself."
Théoden nodded, visibly looking forward to it.
Garrett hesitated, but in the end decided not to interrupt this rare moment of father and son together.
He only hoped that when he next saw Théoden, he would still be wearing such a smile.
As Garrett had said, he did not linger long in Rohan. After catching up a little more with Fengel, he departed straight for Gondor.
Traveling south along the North-South Road, he passed by a small river fort they had once surveyed together years ago. Looking up, he saw it had been completely rebuilt.
Water rushed against its high stone walls, spraying white foam, while squads of soldiers patrolled the battlements with stern faces.
It seemed Gondor had prospered in these recent years.
By dusk that day, Garrett entered the White City.
As soon as he stepped through the gates, he was struck by the lively noise. The surrounding residents were cheerful, their faces alight with joy and excitement.
"What has happened?"
Garrett stopped someone to ask, but at once his presence drew gasps of recognition.
"It's truly you, my lord! Oh, forgive me. We were just speaking of the Pelargir fleet's great victory and triumphant return."
"Oh?"
Garrett showed an interested expression and sat down on the roadside steps to chat with the resident.
He learned that Gondor had recently assembled a fleet and launched an attack on the Corsairs of Umbar. The outcome was most favorable: many of Umbar's ships were destroyed, and even one of their captains was killed.
As for Gondor's fleet, its losses were minimal, almost none at all.
"I see. A truly successful campaign, worthy of celebration."
Though he now knew what had happened, some details were still unclear.
But that didn't matter.
When he later met Ecthelion, the steward himself brought up the matter.
"Oh, you mean Thorongil," said Ecthelion, smiling at the mention.
"That young man is shrewd and farsighted. I have long considered him one of my most trusted advisors. You know, for many years I've worked to strengthen the defenses of Pelargir and the riverways. Thorongil thought the same as I did: that the southern Corsairs posed a grave threat to Gondor. It was Thorongil who proposed the recent strike on Umbar. I approved it, naming him commander of the fleet. I must say, both his plan and his execution were bold indeed. A direct assault would have led to a hard-fought battle, but instead, he gathered a small force under cover of night and launched a sudden strike, burning many of the Corsairs' ships before they could react. He even slew Umbar's captain with his own hand."
Garrett nodded. Aragorn's astonishing feats came as no surprise to him.
"Well, Umbar will be in chaos for quite some time now."
"Yes," Ecthelion agreed. "This may well be Gondor's greatest victory in recent years."
"But it is a pity..."
"A pity?"
"A pity that Thorongil did not return with the fleet to celebrate the triumph. He did not come back to Minas Tirith to receive any honors. He left straightaway."
Garrett sighed helplessly, "So once again, I'm too late."
That lad, always on the move. Couldn't he stay put for even a little while?
And just who did he learn that from?