(Note: This essay was originally written for a “Fantasy Geographic” project which was never realized, and is intended to emulate the writing style of articles in National Geographic magazine. No artwork was ever produced to accompany the essay. The sidebars were never written, but the approximate placements for them have been left in.)
NOTE from 2011: The Middle-earth Unplugged series was inspired by this article.
The hills of Evendim are green and fertile. Looking down upon the ancient city of Annuminas one senses the great moments of history pulsating from its glorious heritage.
It is just after dawn and the sun is rising from a sleepy night over the eastern horizon. Lake Evendim glistens in the morning glaze. Small boats, stragglers from the fishing fleet, approach the city’s harbor lazily. They are laden with a bountiful catch. Mother Evendim has been generous with her children.
In the west and south rise the Hills of Evendim, an ancient wall overlooking the mightiest lake in Eriador. Beyond the western hills lie the river lands of the Lhun, old, forgotten, mysterious. In the far north the lands are nearly barren, home to scattered tribes of farmers who eke out a rough existence.
Annuminas is not the city it once was. In its heyday it was the abode of Edain, tall men. They were Dunedain, mostly, a remnant of the mighty lords who came from the Sea. When their homeland was destroyed they came home to the north where their ancestors had once lived.
There had always been Edain in Eriador, and the Dunedain had returned to live among them thousands of years before. But Elendil the Tall came from the Sea he went among the northern peoples and was welcomed by them. They took him for their king. he built a city along the southern shores of Evendim: Annuminas, the tower of the west.
Little of that ancient city survives. Through the centuries and wars Elendil’s people dwindled and in time they abandoned the city. Annuminas fell into ruin and slowly the lands it had watched over fell into decay.
The small Baranduin river rises next to the city and flows east toward the distant North Downs for 50 miles before turning south. Evendim empties itself through the river. The pristine waters flow south and eventually reach the Sea more than 800 miles away, a mighty rush fed by many streams. Once the rive turns south, skirting the eastern edge of the Evendim ridge the hills fall behind and give way to flatlands and woods as the river moves toward its destination.
“This was once all Elvish country,” my guide says He looks west across the lowlands to toward the hills. “There were many Elves here once: Nandor, Avari, Sindar, Noldor. But they are gone. Gone.” The names roll off his lips like verses in a hymn. The Elves are recalled with great reverence by Men throughout these lands.
He is Edain, a descendant of that ancient race of Men who once allied themselves with the long-vanished Elves. Of course there are still many Edain in the north. They are a pernicious race, rebounding from each setback with renewed vigor. Only the Dunedain have truly dwindled. But theirs is a special case.
“When the Elves departed Men moved in,” the guide continues. “They were not all Edain. Some were Borians. But they moved north. The Forefathers moved on and crossed the Mountains.”
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Sidebar on the Borians (the Folk of Bor and Ulfang) goes about here.
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He refers to the Ered Luin, the western border of Eriador. Beyond them lies Beleriand, one a mighty region as large as Eriador. The Forefathers were the three Edainic tribes who entered Beleriand in the First Age: the Beorians, Marachians, and the secretive clans who would eventually be known as the Folk of Haleth.
The Elves took back the land between Baranduin and Lhun and they possessed it for nearly 2,000 years. More Edain came west but they halted at the Baranduin. Joined by refugees out of Beleriand the Edain of Eriador came to believe their western kinsmen had perished.
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Sidebar on the Edain of Estolad in Beleriand goes about here.
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For thousands of years Men lived east of the river and elves lived to the west. They were friendly, and occasionally groups from either side would cross the river to spend time in the opposing lands. But they never stayed.
The Men were primitive compared to the Elves. They lived in wooden houses and towns, tending their flocks and herds. They relied on the Dwarves for metals and refined skills. Some Men lived along the river, augmenting their farms with fishing. Other Men came north, woodland dwellers, settling in out-of-the-way places ignored by the Beoric Edain.
The Elves built a great civilization in the west. Their new cities rose up along the shores of the Great Sea and they cultivated new groves and orchards, or established farms. Even the less sophisticated Avari and Nandor were farmers, but they don’t seem to have had much to do with Men. The Sindar migrated east through Eriador and established realms in the distant woodlands of Wilderland beyond the Hithaeglir, the Misty Mountains. But the Noldor of Lindon maintained friendship with the Edain and in time helped reunite them with the Numenoreans, the descendants of those Beleriandic Edain who survived the ancient wars.
When the Numenoreans began to colonize Middle-earth they at first took only lands where few if any other people lived. But in Eriador they lived side-by-side with the Edain. Baranduin became one of their favored waterways and when war with Mordor seemed imminent the Numenoreans assisted the Elves in fortifying the region.
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Sidebar on the War of the Elves and Sauron goes about here.
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There is no trace of those ancient fortifications remaining. As our river boat approaches the Bridge of Stonebows we see peaceful hobbit villages and farms marching westward across the landscape. A few men live on the eastern side of Baranduin, but the region is still only sparsely populated. The hobbits have now lived in their Shire for many centuries. With the rebirth of Annuminas in the Fourth Age some hobbits have gone north to live in the capitol of the North Kingdom, or to settled in the fertile hill-lands overlooking the city and Lake Evendim.
“Yonder is East-farthing,” my guide says. “Maybe the oldest part of the Shire. The first hobbits came from Bree,” he points east along the great highway for which the bridge was built. “By that time there were no more Men living west of Baranduin.”
What happened to them? Elendil had ruled a large and populous kingdom. How could a region so lush and fertile have become depopulated? Modern scholars suggest that war and commerce were the cause. War increased and commerce decreased. The Dunedain divided their kingdom and the ancient Elven civilization began to decline. After Annuminas was abandoned in favor of the more easterly (and central) Fornost Erain, people had little incentive to stay in the west. Raiders could easily Arthedain from Cardolan and the king’s soldiers were far away. As the population shrank due to war merchants visited the region less often. With less commerce life became harder, and defending the area became more expensive. So people left. That is how the theorists suggest it went.
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Sidebar on the history of Eriador from SA 3434 to TA 861 goes about here.
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By the time the hobbit brothers Marcho and Blanco colonized the Eastfarthing the political situation had changed. Cardolan was now an ally and tributary of Arthedain and the hobbits had slowly been migrating west to escape the dangerous and powerful Witch-realm of Angmar.
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Sidebar on Angmar goes about here.
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Sidebar on hobbit migrations goes about here.
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The hobbits had traditionally lived close to Men and both groups typically benefitted from the relationship tremendously, for hobbits were not a warlike folk. They farmed, fished, and engaged in commerce. Men who lived near hobbits were thus free to engage in crafts or to practice the arts of war. And the Edainic people were always very good at war.
The colonization of the Shire represented a change in tradition for the hobbits. They had no wish to live close to Angmar as Men seemed willing to do but their numbers were increasing under the protection of Arthedain. So the hobbits for perhaps the first time settled in a land that they made wholly their own.
South of Stonebows we see hobbit towns on both sides of the river. “Buckland,” my guide tells me, pointing to the east bank. “Stoors, mostly, related to the Marish folk.” Buckland was joined to the Shire by King Elessar. Before then it was independent, colonized by Shirefolk centuries previously.
The Shire has had it share of hard times, but it has managed to prosper and grow despite occasional setbacks. The first great trial occurred a mere 36 years after the Shire’s founding. Stoors had recently begun settling the Marish when the Great Plague ravaged Middle-earth. Whole communities died out. The Stoors of Dunland, from whom the Marish folk came, all perished and Cardolan became a desolation. The ghosts of Elendil’s people were now joined by the ghosts of Marcho and Blanco’s people.
More than 300 years later a reinvigorated Shire was overrun by Angmar. Many hobbits were slaughtered. Others fled into the deep hills and woods to hide. As many as could manage it fled west to the Elvish lands. The kingdom of Arthedain came to an end, but the hobbits returned to their homes after the war and rebuilt their lives. They elected a Thain to take the place of the king but he had no real power, except to raise an army or to commune a council of chieftains in times of danger.
The hobbits are a very clannish society. My guide points out the towns we pass and mentions local families: Brandybucks, Maggots, etc. The Shirefolk have aristocratic families and worker families. The aristocrats own much of the land and convene the Shire-moot, a council of the heads of the great families. No Shire-moot has been called in living memory. The old customs are dying, trampled underfoot by the needs of a new world.
Hobbits use surnames. In Bree they may take names referring to a natural aspect of the hobbits such as hair color or texture. But a common surname habit in both the Shire and Bree is to indicate one’s place (or type) of residence: such as the Underhills and Brandybucks (“Brandybuck” is derived from “Baranduin” and “Oldbuck”, the family’s original surname).
In the Shire branches of a family may change surnames, especially among the worker hobbits. Hence the Ropers may give rise to the Gamgees, who in turn spawn the Gardners of the Hill and the Fairbairns of the Tower Hills. “Gamgee” is derive from a village name and is the surname of one of the Shire’s most renowned mayors: Sam Gamgee.
“If hobbits could make him ten feet tall and keep him a hobbit, they would,” my guide says. His voice reveals something of the pride that all Eriadorians seem to hold for Gamgee and his companions. Local traditions point to how Gamgee, a lowly gardener, won fame and fortune in the War of the Ring. He helped inspire the increase in hobbit scholarship which occurred after the war. Some say that honor is more rightly bestowed upon Meriadoc Brandybuck, who traveled outside the Shire often and brought ancient records. But everyone agrees that it was Gamgee who finished the primary narrative of the Red Book.
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Sidebar on the War of the Ring goes about here.
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Sam inherited Bag End from Frodo Baggins. It was Frodo, they say, who took Sam on his adventures and set Gamgee on the path to greatness. Sam had Also known Bilbo Baggins, Frodo’s older cousin and adoptive father. The Bagginses were one of the foremost families of Hobbiton, old stock, traditional and aristocratic to the core. It was a Baggins who seized control of the Shire in Frodo’s absence. Lotho Sackville-Baggins inherited the Sackville family headship from his father Otho as well as Otho’s peculiar ambition to succeed to the Baggins family headship.
Lotho and his father purchased many plantations and farms in the Southfarthing, forming an alliance with Saruman, the wizard of Isengard. Lotho’s dreams of power and wealth vanished when Saruman fled to the Shire at the end of the War of the Ring. Saruman seized control from Lotho, who had made himself ruler of most of the Shire only months before. The wizard unleashed a brutal and abusive campaign of destruction and oppression against the hobbits and their land.
When Frodo, Sam, and Frodo’s cousins Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took returned to the Shire, they found it crushed under the iron heel of Lotho’s (now Saruman’s) ruffians. As head of the Baggins family Frodo declared Lotho a rogue. Peregrin, whose father the Thain had resisted the ruffians from his family lands, carried word to the Tooks that Frodo and Meriadoc were rousing the Shire. Although the Thain had defied the oppressors only Frodo and his companions seemed capable of galvanizing hobbitry into action.
The rebellion was led mostly by Meriadoc and Sam seems to have played little part in the actual fighting. He rescued his father, a virtual prisoner in Hobbiton, but Sam had no important role in the struggle to free his land. His part came after the Shire had been freed. Devastated by the wanton and brutal destruction of trees inflicted throughout the Shire by Lotho’s ruffians, Sam undertook a special mission to plant new trees. It is said he had the aid of Elvish magic. At the end of his labors he blessed the Shire, and there followed the miraculous births of many golden-haired babies — a hitherto rare occurrence among hobbits.
Sam Gamgee is almost revered like a great wizard among the hobbits. He climbed mountains, flew on eagles, challenged the Dark Lord, and sailed over Sea with the Elves. His deeds are legendary and no hobbit will brook hearing any doubts spoken by ignorant outlanders. Of course, Men are forbidden to enter their lands because the Ruffians had themselves been Men. King Elessar declared the Shire off-limits to all Men, even himself.
Hobbits are a genuinely gentle and civil folk. They do not believe in cruelty and despite their great fondness for ale seem to have no problems with alcoholism. They are stern but generous with their children. Angry parents do not beat their young. But malice is not completely unknown among them. There are stories of domineering family heads and hints of murder and conspiracy among Shire families. The Tooks don’t speak of her, but it is said that Lalia the Fat prevented her son from succeeding to the family headship (he was already Thain) until a granddaughter pushed her down the hill from her doorstep. The granddaughter was publicly shunned while mourning for Lalia occurred but the girl later appeared in public wearing Lalia’s favorite pearls.
The Marish is low-lying country, probably once a bit swampy. Generations of hobbit farmers have tamed and cultivated the land. They send their produce to market via road and river and the Baranduin is filled with traffic by daytime. These are Stoors, originally riverfolk, and unlike most hobbits they are comfortable with rivers and boats.
The Stoors are not fond of forests, however. They live close to the Old Forest (which borders Buckland on the east) but the Bucklanders built the High Hay: or, rather, they grew it. The Hay is a tall hedge running the length of Buckland. Tradition says the trees of the Old Forest attacked the hedge generations ago.
“They tell strange tales about the Forest,” my guide muses as we pass Haysend. He seems eager to press on and leave the Forest behind, though Buckland teems with hardy folk who seldom think of the deep, dark woods.
After Buckland the lands east of the river become empty and desolate. Tall trees hang over the waters but what could have been a large forest at one time is now broken by meadows and brush. In the distance we see old piles of tumbled stone. They may have been towers at one time or another. Perhaps Cardolan’s ancient lords once gazed out from them across the river into lush and beckoning Arthedain.
The western bank is dotted with farms and villages. The farther south we go the more frequently we espy hobbits working in long fields of leafy plants. Pipeweed is the most popular crop in Southfarthing. Hobbits use it, Dunedain use it, Dwarves use it. Everyone agrees that the Southfarthing grows the best Pipeweed, although the practice of smoking it probably began back east in Bree. Southfarthing leaf has found its way across Eriador to ancient Rivendell, the Imladris of the Elves, and as far south as Isengard and Gondor.
When we arrive at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, we find the ancient crossroads is a beehive of activity. As Men steadily reclaim Cardolan they move slowly up the rivers of Minhiriath. No longer free to enter the Shire Men now camp near the ford and let hobbits bring their goods across the river. Only shallow water boats can pass the ford and then only when the river is running high, usually in the Spring as Baranduin carries snowmelt from the northern hills to the Sea.
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Sidebar on the Battle of Sarn Ford goes about here.
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We leave our boat here at the ford. There are a mixture of Men in the area. People akin to the old forest dwellers from Eryn Vorn on the coast mingle with Dunedain and settlers from the south.
“They say Sarn Athrad will become a new Bree,” the guide says hopefully. “There is trade with Rohan,” he points south along the highway. After the War of the Ring King Eomer of Rohan took control of Dunland. Rohan’s borders now touch the southern edge of Eriador. Tharbad, which had been abandoned a hundred years before, was rebuilt though its ancient bridge has not been restored. Ferries cross the Gwathlo river, bringing settlers north. Many of the people are Dunlendings, or they hale from west Rohan where Rohirrim and Dunlendings have long mingled. Distrusting the Kings of the Mark they come to Minhiriath to rebuild their ancient lives.
Yet the Reunited Kingdom holds sway here. King Elessar’s Rangers, last remnant of the Dunedain of the North, used to stand guard at Sarn Athrad, and there were now regular soldiers stationed here to keep Men out of the Shire and to watch over the river and highway. Their fort is the only permanent structure close to the ford, but caravans and colonists pitch their tents by the river before moving on. Sarn Athrad is like a living city made of quicksilver, always shifting and changing. The hobbit farmers of the Shire make up the backbone of the effort to reclaim Cardolan.
We purchase horses and ride south. The ancient road which followed the river has been reopened. A few hardy fisherfolk have settled in the area but there are no towns.
“This was once great forest,” my guide tells me. “Elves did not come here. On this side of the river only Men have ever lived here. It is good land but one knows. The Elves, they enrich a land. There is no Elvish feel to it.”
Through a break in the trees we gaze across the river. We can still see the Shire but we are nearly at the limits of its boundaries. Farms and villages are few. The land is quiet and green and there is almost an Elvish quality to it. On the horizon we behold the southern peaks of Ered Luin. Beyond them lies what was once Elvish country but no one knows if any Elves remain there. Elves are almost never seen in Eriador now, although Wood-elves still teem in the distant eastern lands. One feels a sadness looking at a land which has never known the Elves and then gazing across Baranduin at a country which knows them no longer. They were a magical people.
We pass on. The river widens and runs deep once again. We cross small tributaries and occasionally come upon homesteads set apart in the wilds. The people are curious but not too friendly. Sometimes they stop us to ask for news. We are able to purchase supplies from most families. They sell their excess crops and animals to merchants who pass down the road each spring. Life is a gamble. If the first merchant offers too little money or goods in exchange for the homesteaders’ surplus they’ll wait for the next one, but sometimes they wait for one merchant too many.
“Yes,” my guide tells one family. “We passed the caravans at Sarn Athrad. They are coming.” We have already purchased our supplies. They will have to wait for the caravans before raising their prices.
“There are wild men in the woods,” my guide explains as we leave another homestead. He is explaining why the homesteaders surround their homes with high hedges. Although fiercely independent, sometimes 2 or 3 families will stay together. “The hedges are an ancient practice,” the guide continues. “Men taught hobbits how to grow the High Hay. Sometimes the outlaws attack a homestead and kill everyone inside. Then the families come together from all along the river and they hunt down the murderers. But now there are soldiers, that doesn’t happen so often.”
The road us guarded by two embankments. The design is Elvish but is found wherever the Numenoreans held sway. I point this out to my guide and he nods sagely.
“This was an ancient logging road,” he says. “When people think of Numenorean forestry they recall the legends of Aldarion and his great city to the south [Lond Daer, near the mouth of the Gwathlo]. But the Numenoreans came here, too. They cut the large trees and took them to the river.” He points to one of the many gaps in the embankments on either side of the road. “They floated the wood down to the Ethir where ships towed it to their city by the Sea.”
Later we come upon a mound with a stone circle at its crest. An ancient tower once stood here. “Cardolan,” the guide declares. “They built watch-towers to ward against raids from the north. We are close to Ethir Baranduin. All this land once belonged to a free people. But they fought the Numenoreans and fled to Eryn Vorn.” He points to the southeast. Eryn Vorn is a cape beyond the mouth of Baranduin, thickly forested.
“When the war between the Elves and the Dark Lord — whom that people served — was over the Numenoreans withdrew from this land. And later when Elendil founded Arnor he did not take control of Eryn Vorn. He pitied the forest-dwellers, it is said. After his day the Arnorians grew weak and the wood-dwellers began raiding these lands. When Arnor became three kingdoms this land fell to the Kings of Cardolan. They fortified the Ethir and built towers along the river. But all that ended long ago.”
We ride on in silence. The next day we arrive at Ethir Baranduin. It is a small but thriving town of fisherfolk and merchants. A few boat wrights and soldiers live here as well. All that remains of Cardolan’s ancient fortifications are a few rows of stones here and there. The old town fell into ruin after the Great Plague and scavengers occasionally came here by ship to quarry the stone. This Ethir Baranduin was founded under King Elessar.
As we enter the town’s market I see a few dunedain — soldiers — mingling with local folk, moistly of Edainic blood like my guide. These people are descended of Gondorians. Colonists from Pinnath Gelin, the Green Hills, came here to help re-establish the North Kingdom. But I am astonished to see a darker-skinned people here and there.
“Wood-dwellers,” my guide tells me. “From Eryn Vorn. We have made peace with them. But these children of ancient enemies do not remember the past. For them Baranduin was the end of the world. They have forgotten all that lies beyond their forest.”
So here at last we find a remnant of the original dwellers of this land, still honoring the ways of their fathers from 7,000 years before. I am looking upon Men who live like Haleth and her people did in Beleriand. Even the Dunlendings, their ancient kinsmen, have long adopted new lifestyles. All throughout my journey I have looked upon the ancient places where the history of Baranduin unfolded. Here, at Ethir Baranduin, I am looking upon a people who have never stopped living that history, though they recall nothing of their past. For them there has been only the river and the forest since time out of mind.
This article was originally published on July 9, 2000.
