The Bridge of Tharbad — oh, to look upon it one more time!
Old Lore
There has been a settlement at the crossing of the Greyflood since Men first came to this part of the world. But time grinds hard stones to meal, slays kings, and ruins towns, and the Tharbad of today is very different from that of old.
THE FIRST TWO AGES OF THE WORLD
In the First Age, Men dwelt in the woods and marshes along the river; for the most part, they were a simple forest- dwelling people, unwelcoming to outsiders and fearful of the wider world. Some traded with the Dwarves of Moria, and learned a little of their craft and ways, becoming kings in their little kingdoms and raising towns and castles that have long since crumbled into dust and been forgotten. Most, though, clung to their own customs, surviving as best they could in the dark woods, hiding from the nameless darkness in the North.
Later, the Sea-kings came from the West. Wood-hungry, they cut down the forests to build their ships, and floated the trees downriver to their haven at the mouth of the river. In time, they cut such a wound in the forests that they needed a port further upriver, and they chose the crossing-point that would become Tharbad. A town grew up around the port, a crossroads where the Sea-kings of Númenor traded with the Dwarves of Moria and the Elves of Hollin. The Men of the West were peerless craftsmen, and the city of Tharbad was glorious indeed.
But that was long ago, and little of that first city remains. Who remembers the banners fluttering in the wind atop hun- dreds of masts, numerous as trees in a forest? Who remembers that Sauron the Terrible suffered defeat not far from Tharbad, in the forgotten first war between the Elves and the Enemy? Only the Elves, and they are gone from this land.
Tharbad was many things as the Second Age wore on — a fortress in the midst of hostile lands, a river-port and centre of trade, a place where the Sea-kings demanded tribute from their subjects, a declining outpost on the edge of empire. Númenor fell into darkness, then ruin — but out of that ruin came the Faithful of Elendil and his sons. They founded the North-kingdom of Arnor and the South-kingdom of Gon- dor, and built great cities at Annúminas in the north and Osgiliath in the south. To bind their two far-flung kingdoms together, the Faithful built a great Road across Middle-earth, and at Tharbad they raised a new bridge across the wide and sullen Greyflood.
THE THIRD AGE
The Bridge of Tharbad — oh, to look upon it one more time! It leapt in three great stone arches from the south bank to a central pillar rising in the middle island, and then with three more arches reached the northern shore. Two mighty towers guarded it, made of the same imperishable stone as the walls of Orthanc. The bridge is broken now, but sometimes the fog that rises on the river seems to settle atop the remains of the mutilated pillars, and the city remembers.
For a time, Tharbad stood at the crossroads of the world. It was part of neither Arnor nor Gondor, but shared between the two crowns. The Captain of the Haven of Tharbad was a title of special magnificence and renown. Even when the North Kingdom broke into the successor realms of Arthedain,
Cardolan and Rhudaur, Tharbad maintained considerable independence — which rankled with the kings of Cardolan. But traffic between the kingdoms diminished as war and plague took their toll, and grass grew between the flagstones of the Road of Kings.
When the last prince of Cardolan perished and his king- dom faded, Tharbad endured, ruled by a long line of officers, each in turn holding the honorary title of Captain of the Haven. For a time, there was trade with the wealthy Dwarves of Moria, but they too fell victim to the treacheries of the Enemy. Kingdom by kingdom, city by city, town by town, the North fell into darkness. Tharbad faded, too — its population never recovered after the Great Plague, and much of the city fell into disrepair.
DAYS OF DECLINE
All that, though, is ancient history. Moria and the plague were a thousand years ago — and the folk of Tharbad are short-lived mortal Men, not hardy Dúnedain or immortal Elves. For many years, the singers kept telling tales of kings of old who came over the sea to lay down in the barrows to die, and sometimes travellers came up the Road with news of the south. But for the most part, Tharbad was no longer a crossroads, and no ships were seen sailing up the river. The surrounding area began to be troubled by bandits and thieves, and only the mighty fortifications of old kept Tharbad safe. The ruined city became an isolated fastness amid the wilds of Minhiriath, where honest folk could take refuge from brig- ands or Dunlending raiders.
Then, fifty years ago came the Fell Winter. Those days were bad, indeed — the crops died, and the land froze, and Wargs came west of the Misty Mountains to hunt. What fol- lowed, though, was worse. In spring, all the snow heaped on the hills and peaks melted, and the rivers swelled and burst their banks. Well-named was the Greyflood that awful summer, for the usually-quiet river grew dark and terrible, and flood- waters poured through the town, washing away hundreds among the surviving inhabitants of Tharbad. The river in its wrath could not destroy the ancient piers that supported the bridge, but many arches crumbled, and their mighty stones fell into the raging currents.
Tharbad had suffered many disasters in the past, and the bridge had already fallen into disuse, so perhaps the city could have weathered this calamity, if it were not for the weakness and folly of Men. The succession of Captains of the Haven after the floods of 2912 were among the worst elected in Thar- bad in all its long history, leading up to the disastrous reign of Master Heatherton, who was the first to drop the honorary title of Captain and who imposed an unpopular tax to repair the bridge — only to flee along with several of his cronies and the contents of the town coffers. When even the follow- ing Master abandoned his post, taking with him his chain of office, many citizens feared Tharbad was doomed, and fled the decaying city. Some headed north to the Bree-land or down the river towards the sea; others, fearing a perilous journey, took refuge amidst the reeds in
Swanfleet.
THE PRESENT DAY
When it seemed as if the city would soon be utterly abandoned, the arrival of the new Master arrested the stream of people leaving the city. Master Gurnow reclaimed for himself the title of Captain of the Haven and forbade anyone else from leaving Tharbad, compelling everyone to remain unless they paid a steep gate-tax.
It is a little... indelicate to mention such a thing, but you should know that
Captain Gurnow was, until recently, an outlaw and a bandit. He commanded a host of thieves who dwelt in the wilderness north of town. These former thieves have been appointed as the city watch, tax collectors, bailiffs and other officials. Gurnow married Lady Stock, a woman of good family and royal blood, and so is clearly set on being an upstanding and law-abiding steward of Tharbad’s ancient office of Captain.
Be of good cheer! Captain Gurnow is a strong leader, like a king of old! He has sworn to keep the Road safe, and to repair the bridge, and protect the city from those who would do it harm. He has many friends in other lands, too, and will bring new trade and opportunities to old Tharbad. The tale of the city may not be finished yet...
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