"Watch your feet here, last thing we need is either of us being dragged into the current."

Sam stepped carefully along the edge of the Anduin. They'd entered the Northern part of Ithilien some days ago and had been making steady progress south. Gollum assured them that once they were in sight of Osgiliath they would turn east and make for the "secret stairs' as he called them. Samwise may have agreed to follow the sickly creature but the last thing he planned to do was trust him.

"Considering what happened the last time we tried to go swimming, I completely agree with you Sam."

"Until I grow grey I'll bet my garden it was that Took, Hamson that stole my breeches!"

Moments of laughter were few and far between since they had parted from the Fellowship; the closer they came to the mountains of Mordor, the farther away the Shire was. The small sliver of happiness was ruined when Gollum came sulking back out of the forest.

"Come along Master, there is many dangers here. Hunters and beasts who would not like us waltzing through their woods." Gollum's grating voice pricked Sam's ear in the worst way.

"You heard him Sam, we'd better get a move on. A shame really, Ithilien seems like such a beautiful place."

Checking their packs, Frodo withdrew their map, a gift from Bilbo when they had departed Rivendell. His uncle had transcribed a map using both his own knowledge and the personal collection of Lord Elrond. It was beautiful and written upon fine elven-made vellum. It's only flaw was the loss of detail the further East it went. While the paths and rivers of Eregion and Rohan were detailed, Gondor and Rhovanion had only the largest paths marked down.

The dotted line leading south to Osgiliath was straight on the map but in reality it snaked and circled through the canopy of the forest; more than once they had been turned around then had to backtrack to find a way through the bush and hills. As such, Sam and Frodo had been making their own map; Frodo knew the basics after learning from Bilbo, while Sam had an eye for landmarks and differing landmarks from each other.

Frodo marked their progress and they were on their way, closer and closer to the Shadow in the east.

/

"Should we turn back?"

"We've been following the river for an entire day, we'd have to reach that shallow crossing we passed yesterday to get back to the other side. Can we not stay on this path?"

"Sam we don't know how far the river will go west for or where the next crossing is." Frodo sat with a heave and leaned against a tree, taking a moment to watch the sunset. "We should camp for the night and then send Smeagol out to find a path."

Sam took off his pack and began setting out some pots, "It was that trickster's idea to cross in the first place!"

"Sam you can't expect him to know every inch of the land, he knows where we're going and we have to trust him."

"I trust that twisted thing as much I'd trust an orc."

"If you feel that way then maybe you should sleep somewhere else." Frodo said quietly, he was tired and hearing Sam insult Smeagol only exhausted him further.

Sam didn't respond only stared at his friend, quietly he gathered up his backpack and walked down the shore until he and Frodo were only noticeable by their respective fires. Looking at the water Frodo wanted to call out and apologize but he could barely keep his eyes open and his voice would not come. Stars began to peek out across the sky as the sun disappeared below the horizon, the shadows seemed deeper without the comfort of Sam nearby. Smeagol hat yet to return but Frodo was sure he would be fine, probably fishing in some dark creek. Both Hobbits sat, tired and disheartened with only the sight of the rising moon and the rush of the Anduin to give them company.

Frodo was beginning to drift off when soft music passed by his ears.

(Here's an excellent vocal version, just replace the voice with a soft man's. watch?v=pdFbFtCNXCY)

"Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid."

Frodo slowly sat up, he noticed Sam had stood and drew closer. They both cautiously listened to the tune.

"In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony;
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald."

"Where's it coming from Mr. Frodo?" Sam softly asked.

"Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped."

Frodo closed his eyes and walked closer to the water, going so far as to go as deep as his ankles in the cold current of the Anduin.

"There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow; and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long forsaken seas distressed;
from east to west he passed away."

Sam joined him in the water, ignoring his own warnings.

"Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees
of Valinor, and Eldamar
beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair
where keen the air, where pale as glass
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion
are mirrored on the Shadowmere."

They both turned south and saw a soft glow in the distance, a single lamp that bore more light than a bonfire. It was gently sailing closer, the voice growing stronger with every second.

"He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian
to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then
of folk and Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed
forbid to those that dwell therein."

"It's beautiful Sam."

"You'll hear no arguments from me Mr. Frodo."

The voice was clear and full of energy but not overpowering, accompanied by the strumming it fit perfectly into the twilight of the forest. It didn't block out the life around it with its verses but rather flirted between the crows of owls and creaks of branches, turning the woods into a part of the melody.

"A ship then new they built for him
of mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light
and banner bright with living flame
to gleam thereon by Elbereth
herself was set, who thither came
and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun and light of Moon."

The lone lamp was hanging from the prow of a boat, a boat unlike anything the two Hobbits had ever set eyes upon. It was huge, bigger than any of the fishing boats seen in the Shire. Made from green wood, the planks seemed to warp and bend coming together in a graceful unbroken- oval; it's masthead was expertly shaped into the likeness of a bearded man bearing a helm of water; the sail was made of clean white cloth and in the warm light Frodo thought it bore a great whale in front of a wave.

"And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids
in Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star
to pass, and tarry never more
on Hither Shores where Mortals are;
for ever still a herald on
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse."

The ship had been slowly drifting through the water, which was why it took Frodo and Sam a few moments to realize the vessel had stopped in front of them and the singing had ended as well.

"Did you enjoy the song?"

The cheerful question came from the man leaning over the side of the strange ship. Sam couldn't see him very clearly but he looked quite young, Sam did notice his hair was dark as coffee and was pulled into a long braid that draped over his shoulder.

While Sam was busy studying the strange sailor, Frodo actually went deeper into the water. "Very much so! Where did you hear it?" Frodo called out.

"An acquaintance of mine learnt it some years ago and taught it to me."

Sam rushed forward and grabbed Frodo's shoulder to stop him from going any further.

"What are you doing sailing upriver in the middle of the night?"

"What are two Hobbits doing in the middle of Gondor?"

"Nothing a stranger such as yourself should be concerned about."

The stranger seemed curious and Sam's declaration had him leaning back from the railing and disappearing onto the deck. Sam was hoping the sailor would just move on, the night was proving to be too much trouble. A rope of all things interrupted his thoughts, the heavy chord landing over his shoulder and splashing into the water.

"Why don't you pull me in, I've got some food I'd be willing to share." The stranger was standing at the railing again, sporting a small smile.

Frodo took the decision away from Sam, grabbing the rope and rushing to pull it toward the shore. Sam reluctantly began helping Frodo, to both their surprise the ship sailed easily and dug into the rocky ground. Jumping over the side the stranger, evidently a man landed on the ground and took the rope from the Hobbits and tied it to a thick-trunked tree.

Turning back to the pair, Sam took in the man's clothes. A pair of thick boots tied up that rode almost to his knees, dark pants tied by a thick belt adorned with silver and sapphires. Tucked under said belt was a dark green tunic, it fit tight on his torso; around the collar and cuffs was yellow fabric embroidered with letters and designs. Sam also noted he had a sheathe attached at his side big enough for a sword, at least a sword by Hobbit reckoning. The sheathe drew his eye because it was decorated with designs that reminded him of Boromir's armour, it bore a different version of the White Tree and had seven small garnets worked into the design.

Frodo stepped in between the two, breaking Sam's concentration, and held his hand out; sometimes his friend was too trusting, all it took was a good song and a kind smile to charm the humble Hobbit.

"My name's Frodo and this is Sam, there's another traveling with us who goes by Smeagol. Can I ask what you're doing here? I've never heard of a ship being able to sail the Anduin."

"A good question. Depending on where you're from you might call me many different names. I've heard of the Shire but I've never been there myself, so you can call me Hadrian."

Hadrian shook Frodo's hand then returned to his boat, climbing up a net on the side and retrieving some supplies and then joining the Hobbits at their campsite. Sam had gotten the fire going and had started roasting some vegetables he gathered earlier. Hadrian took out a roll of leather and opened it to reveal several fish covered in salt. Sam couldn't help but admire Hadrian's skill as he pulled out a small knife and expertly prepared the fish. Soon a stew and several fish were cooking over the fire.

"I hope you enjoy the cod, I caught them fresh yesterday."

"How did you catch fresh fish yesterday? We're in the middle of Gondor!"

"You might have noticed my ship is somewhat special Master Samwise."

"The only ships I've read about that could travel like that were Elven or Numenorean!"

Sam's incredulous face and Frodo's eager smile was such a great juxtaposition that Hadrian couldn't help but laugh at the two travellers.

"Master Frodo is right, it is an Elven ship. A very wise and great shipwright helped me build her."

The fish had finished and the acquaintances were digging in with relish. They may have been on the other side of the world but Hobbits still loved to eat.

"I typically stay in the Bay of Belfalas and keep to Southern Gondor" Hadrian finished another mouthful of stew, "occasionally I come up the Anduin to visit Osgiliath and some other settlements."

"We're headed to Osgiliath ourselves."

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam's admonishment went ignored.

"Would you be able to help us Mr. Hadrian?"

Hadrian licked his lips and swallowed down the last of the stew and sat back. He stared at Frodo and that friendly gaze he met them with slowly faded into something… almost sinister. Frodo instinctively covered the Ring beneath his shirt with his hand, unintentionally drawing Hadrian's eyes right to it. Neither of them saw Sam slowly reach for the sword strapped to his packs.

"In return for the delicious stew, helping you is the proper thing to do I think." Hadrian's gaze drifted up from the Ring to Frodo's face and his warm smile returned. Frodo relaxed and Sam took his hand off the blade now in his lap.

"We'd very much appreciate it, wouldn't we Sam?"

Taking a deep breath Sam gave a nod.

"Very good!" Hadrian clapped his hands and stood. The sailor returned to his ship and the Hobbits went about cleaning up their dishes. When Hadrian cam close again he was holding two pouches tied to strings.

He placed one in both their hands and urged them to open the small pouch, the pouch itself was made of some kind of animal fur and the inside was oily smooth. Frodo shook its contents out onto his palm and a series of carved stones fell out. Each one was a figure in the shape of an animal; there was a stag, a fish, an eagle, a dog, a badger, a shark, they weren't extremely detailed but each one bore runes carved into their backs.

"This looks like elvish writing but… not quite right." Frodo commented.

"You've got a keen eye Master Frodo. They're Anduac runes, the language of ancient Numenor, the language was unique but did have similarities to Sindarin. That crossover is why you might recognize parts of the characters but the meaning of the word would be beyond you."

Hadrian kneeled before the Hobbits.

"You two are on a very important journey."

The Hobbit's breath froze in their chests.

"You have come far but there is still a few steps left."

Hadrian reached over and slipped the pouches over Sam and Frodo's necks.

"When spears of gold clash with men of wood, show those pouches to the son of Minas Tirith and he shall help you find your way."

Without waiting for a response, Hadrian clasped both Hobbits shoulders and smiled (a kind but morose expression) and bid them farewell. Frodo and Sam watched in silence as their mysterious visitor unmoored his vessel and climbed into it. The boat drifted without aid back into the river and continued its lax journey.

The last they heard from Hadrian was a shout from the water, "Keep faith in each other, Frodo, Sam. When stranded at sea all you can rely is the person next to you."

The green ship faded into the distance and the sound of life returned to the shore.

/

Envoy of Ulmo

Hadrian (Singecundo – Salt Prince), was sent by Ulmo to aid Gondor. Ulmo saw the descendants of Numenor as the first line of defense against the return of Sauron.

The legacy of the great kingdoms of Gondolin and Nagortath from the first age. Since Gondor reigned over much of the coast south of the White Mountains his Istari could patrol the seas and if need be, come north up the Anduin.

Refered to as: Calencair (Green Sailor) to the Elves, Tirianen (Water Watcher) in Gondor. Or Hadrian the Green in Westron.