This year would certainly be remembered in Gondor’s history, the southern Haradrim forces were utterly defeated, Mordor’s troops retreated, the Witch-king was humiliated, and a grievance that had lasted a thousand years was finally avenged.

And all of this was accomplished by a single person.

After the celebrations and gift-giving ceremonies concluded, people were finally able to ease their tense nerves for a while.

But as long as threats remained, there were some who were destined never to truly rest.

After the festivities ended, the Council of Gondor convened immediately.

The Council of Gondor was a meeting composed of the kingdom’s highest ranks, where they offered counsel and strategies to the King or the Ruling Steward. In this hierarchy, the King outranked the Steward, and the Steward outranked the other lords and commanders who made up the council.

This time, however, the council was somewhat different from usual. Many of the topics could not avoid revolving around one particular person, the defender of the North, the founder and leader of the Free Settlements: Garrett.

First of all, forming an alliance with him and the territories under his leadership was a certainty. This didn’t even need discussion. Anyone who opposed it would be a fool, the Steward would be the first to dismiss them.

Once the alliance was established, they moved on to regular reports on the situation across Gondor’s territories, including the fallen province of Ithilien, and the defense of the southern coastlines.

“The Haradrim have been quiet of late. They’ve withdrawn to the south bank of the Harnen, remaining there peacefully. Only a small number of soldiers still man the watchtowers on the north bank. Their willingness to fight has diminished greatly, they’ve even ceased their raids.”

“Indeed.”

Turgon nodded in acknowledgment.

Yes, I’m aware. That was the work of our… resourceful ally.

“Reports from Osgiliath state that the Uruk army massed near the Crossroads has begun dispersing across the wilds of Ithilien, with the overall trend showing a retreat toward Mordor.”

Also known. That was accomplished by Garrett.

“From the southern mouth of the Lefnui: a corsair fleet attempting to raid fishing villages along the coast was destroyed by our forces.”

Turgon paused for a moment, then quietly asked the person beside him, “Did Garrett go over there?”

“No, my lord, there are no records of his activities in that region.”

“Excellent. Those men deserve commendation. Those corsairs needed to learn what befalls those who trespass on Gondor’s shores uninvited.”

Turgon responded approvingly.

The region of Lebennin, especially Pelargir at the Anduin River delta, was one of Gondor’s great shipyards and its primary seaport.

In ages past, the twelfth through fifteenth kings of Gondor built mighty fleets there, and with those armadas, they dominated the surrounding seas so completely that none challenged them. Those four rulers were later called the “Ship-kings.”

But after them, the kings grew content with ease and comfort. The fleets gradually fell into disrepair and slowly weakened, and with them, Gondor’s naval strength declined year by year.

Gondor’s rise and subsequent decline began around that time.

The Corsairs of Umbar had clearly noticed Pelargir’s weakness, they had been watching it covetously for a long time. One could say with certainty that the moment Pelargir relaxed its guard even slightly, a large fleet of corsair ships would immediately come raiding.

Those pirates had grown far too bold.

Even when they usually feared the Pelargir garrison too much to launch direct assaults, they still would periodically send fleets to raid fishing villages along the coast.

They should have been taught a lesson long ago.

The council continued to discuss various matters.

Finally, when everything had been reported and all necessary business concluded, the hall grew quiet.

No one spoke anymore.

Turgon also said nothing, he merely glanced occasionally toward the entrance of the hall.

What’s happening? Why haven’t we adjourned?

“My lord, is there still some matter to be addressed?”

One commander who had returned from the front asked the question that everyone had in mind.

“Patience, Thengel.”

Seeing that all official business was concluded, Turgon relaxed slightly and said deliberately:

“I’m waiting for someone—someone I believe all of you should meet.”

“Especially you, Thengel. Were you not saying a few days ago that you wished to meet him?”

“Could it be…”

The commander named Thengel raised his head slightly, his eyes brightening.

As Turgon finished speaking, the other council members exchanged glances, some seemed to have already guessed who it was, while others remained puzzled.

“Indeed, Garrett.”

Now everyone understood.

This man had been as prominent as the midday sun lately. Everything related to him was being enthusiastically discussed by the people, even the small tavern he had visited days ago was now packed daily, to the point that nobles were going there out of curiosity, ordering ale just to see what made the place special.

If they could meet this legend through the council, that would indeed be remarkable.

“Perhaps he forgot there was still a council meeting?”

Thengel voiced his concern.

That question immediately left Turgon somewhat at a loss.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and said, “He did not forget. In truth… I simply couldn’t find him.”

“The city guards report he hasn’t left Minas Tirith, but the messengers I sent spent the entire day searching and still couldn’t discover where he’d gone.”

He was clearly somewhere within the city, but no one could find him.

He was truly a master of hide-and-seek.

“But there’s no cause for worry. Before the council began, Ecthelion personally went to find him. I trust he’ll bring him presently.”

“If any of you have urgent matters, you need not remain, I won’t compel anyone to stay. But if not, you might as well wait a little longer.”

Thengel nodded and chose to sit back down and wait.

Besides him, no one else questioned it, and no one left.

On one hand, they were simply curious to see what this legend actually looked like. On the other, out of respect for Ecthelion’s reputation, soon to assume full authority as Steward, they trusted that this capable leader would surely bring the man to them.

Even without formally taking office, his reputation already commanded respect.

After the sun had shifted only slightly, there was finally movement at the great hall’s entrance.

All the high-ranking Gondorian officials inside turned their heads at once, seeing Ecthelion wiping perspiration as he stepped inside and straightened his robes.

“Slow down a bit!”

A voice called out from behind. Garrett stepped into the hall right after Ecthelion, finishing an apple tart that Gondor’s royal baker had given him.

The moment he entered the hall, all eyes instantly focused on him, nearly making him choke.

He quickly swallowed the mouthful of pastry, barely avoiding embarrassment.

“It seems our guest has quite the appetite,” Turgon said.

Garrett finished the rest of the tart in a few bites. Seeing Turgon’s amused expression, he didn’t bother taking offense at the old man’s jest.

“Alright. But I still don’t understand why you invited me here.”

Ecthelion had moved so quickly that he hadn’t had time to explain the details.

“I wanted to introduce you,” Turgon said, standing and coming over to greet him personally, “to some of the most important people in Gondor.”

Ah, so it’s a diplomatic meeting.

Garrett nodded, acknowledging the courtesy, and followed Turgon as he gestured from one person to the next.

“Well met.”

One by one, high officials of Gondor, governors of key regions, military commanders, lords, and envoys sent by the princes, each was introduced by Turgon and greeted Garrett.

Until Garrett paused before a tall envoy from one of the princes.

“Your heritage is somewhat… unusual,” Garrett observed.

“Indeed, my lord,” the envoy replied. “I am of the line of Dol Amroth. Many in our family carry a trace of Elven blood.”

“I did not expect you to notice it so readily upon first meeting.”

Garrett replied calmly, “I have many Dúnedain and Elven friends. Spending a lot of time with them makes it easy to recognize certain… differences.”

“I see. Your perception is truly remarkable,” the envoy from Dol Amroth said, nodding with genuine admiration.

Garrett glanced discretely at the man’s health indicator of 25 points and smiled without comment.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep