Tewpith Entry #61,155
2511, Third Era
Calenardhon was empty before. Not empty, that is wrong, Calenardhon was dead before. Halgruith says that there was a sickness in Gondor, and the farmers in the fields were struck the worst and they died in great numbers. And then there were wars and there were beasts and the land was emptied out. But it has been twenty years since I have come here, and before when I crested this small hill there was nothing but grass like the sea cut up with little ponds and soft marsh. But now there are little houses with grass roofs and timbers arranged around a larger house, and I can see smoke rising from the centers. And around them range cows and horses and there is a pen with a sleeping hog so large it could be ridden about the little cluster.
But the strangest part, the very strangest part, is that I can see children. Little men scattered about in tunics and dresses with hair so bright and fair it could be made of gold. I don’t understand them when they shout, their play punctuated by merry commands that are foreign to me. The language sounds like music, fair and bright but old and strange and foreign. It is barbaric and beautiful.
There is a woman now, herding them about, clearing them away from where she is pinning clothing up on a line between two of the buildings. It is plain clothing, simple cloth like the farmers wear in Gondor, or the men wear along the Anduin to the north, or like the woodsmen who cling to the eaves of the Greenwood. I think, perhaps, if I can go south to the Gondorians and find something like it I can return north here and they might speak to me, if I hide my ears and my hair. I do not think they will speak to me if they think I am something not like them, but perhaps they will not know enough to see how different our faces are.