Perhaps the people of the North have never truly lived without pressure.
It's just that all that great pressure has always been borne and dissolved by someone. That's why things appear so peaceful here, even to the point where they can turn that pressure back against their great enemies.
Sauron wasn't indifferent to this region. It was just that when his schemes were exposed, they were struck down.
"Boromir."
While he was deep in thought, Garrett returned, carrying with him the scent of dust and blood.
"My lord," Boromir saluted him.
"All right, no need to be so formal."
Garrett patted his shoulder warmly and said, "I've known your family since your great-grandfather's time."
"When you were little, I even held you in my arms."
As he said that, Garrett felt an immense sense of relief. Decades of planning had finally come to fruition today.
However, Boromir's mouth twitched slightly at those words, and the nearby soldiers exchanged rather awkward looks.
It was... a little embarrassing.
"Time flies. In the blink of an eye, that little fellow who used to gnaw on people's fingers has become a fine warrior, and a capable commander, too."
"How's your father these days?"
"He..." Boromir paused for a moment, then said, "He's still in fair spirits."
"That's good. I've been keeping an eye on Gondor's situation. If anything happens, remember to tell me. I'm right here, and I can help you."
"When your father was young, I almost held him too. You know how he is, a bit stubborn. Wouldn't let me."
Pfft.
Boromir couldn't help but laugh at the image.
His stern, taciturn father, like that?
After a brief chuckle, Boromir returned to the main topic. "For now, all is stable in Gondor. We've just won a great victory. My brother Faramir is leading operations at the front. He's reliable, and clever."
"Faramir, yes. I remember him, a careful boy. When I visited Gondor, he used to seek my advice often. All right then, no need to stand around. Since you've come all this way, I'll see that you're well received. Especially since things are quiet for the moment."
Garrett stepped aside and glanced toward the battlefield beneath the city walls, a vast field strewn with corpses.
This latest assault hadn't caused any real harm here. In truth, even if he hadn't been around, the monsters' fate would have been the same. None would have survived.
At most, it would have taken a bit more time, a little less efficient, that's all.
Boromir smiled and accepted Garrett's invitation.
In that moment, he truly felt a sense of warmth, the kind that stripped away the mystical, legendary aura surrounding the man before him.
Here stood a person of real feeling, speaking to him face-to-face.
Kind, approachable. Whether it was Boromir or a common soldier or civilian, anyone who came to talk would be received with patience and a few friendly words.
In that way, he was a bit like the wizard who was even now making his way toward them.
"Greetings, Boromir, son of Denethor. You look well. How's your brother doing these days?"
"He's all right, though not exactly happy."
"I thought as much. Your father's always been hard on him. Still, it's surprising he let you come at all."
"It was my own request to come."
"I see. And what was it that brought you here?" Gandalf voiced the question Garrett had been meaning to ask.
"A dream."
Inside the fortress beside the Wall, Boromir spoke of his doubts.
"I came following the guidance of a dream."
Garrett and Gandalf exchanged a glance.
The next day, the three of them left the now-stable Wall together and returned to the fortress.
But... stabilized?
Perhaps not entirely.
When Garrett returned to Wayfort, he found that two dwarven visitors had arrived.
To be precise, a father and son.
"Glóin. Gimli."
"What brings you two here?"
"We have news."
Glóin's expression was grave.
"There have been strange disturbances in the northern reaches of the Grey Mountains."
The Grey Mountains, the location of Dáin's halls. After that region had been reclaimed and rebuilt, Glóin, his son, and a number of other Dwarves had moved there. Glóin served as the leader of the dwarven colony in Dáin's halls, overseeing its affairs.
If he had left his post, that meant something serious had happened.
"In recent years," Glóin said, "we've often heard calls echoing from beyond the great snowy peaks near our gate. At first, we thought they were beasts roaming the ice fields, but the sound has grown stranger, more unsettling."
"Then..." Glóin took out a scale.
Garrett accepted it, frowning.
He recognized it immediately, a dragon scale. More precisely, one shed naturally by a maturing dragon. Weymir had lost quite a few like this.
"Our people found this near the mountain's edge. We didn't go any deeper. For one thing, the terrain is too harsh. For another, you understand, if something is there, our scouts wouldn't stand a chance. So I recalled them."
"Whatever it is, let it come! I'm not afraid!"
The voice came from behind Glóin, Gimli, clearly bolder... or perhaps just more reckless.
"The Northern Waste again," Garrett sighed.
"All right, I understand. Leave this matter to me. I'll take care of it. Might as well settle everything at once. I'd like to see just how many relics from the ancient ages still linger in that place."
They discussed the issue for a while longer. Soon after, more visitors arrived, or rather, returned.
It was Aragorn.
"Lord Elrond has sent me with a message," he said. "He wishes to convene a council, to decide the fate of the One Ring."
After delivering the message, he turned to Garrett and added, "Lord Elrond also asked me to inquire whether you would be willing to preside over the meeting."
"Me?" Garrett pointed at himself, clearly surprised.
Aragorn nodded.
Then Gandalf interjected, "If Elrond truly knew his habits, he wouldn't even think of troubling him with that."
"Of course, if it did happen, I'd be all for it," he added with a faint smile.
Garrett shook his head. "My advice is simple. Whoever calls the meeting should preside over it."
"Let's go. It's about time we visited some old friends in Rivendell."
In the latter half of the year 3018, with the One Ring at the center of growing tensions, many powers gathered around Wayfort. Upon hearing of this, Elrond resolved to convene a Council of the Wise to discuss how to deal with the Ring.
At Garrett's recommendation, the meeting was to be led by none other than Elrond himself, lord of Rivendell and the most learned of the Elves of this age.
Garrett and Gandalf attended as Wise Men.
Also present were Boromir, commander from Gondor; Glóin, the dwarven leader from the Grey Mountains; and his son Gimli.
And beyond them, Rivendell hosted several other guests as well.