After the battle with the Balrog at the Lonely Mountain, peace lasted for quite some time. For several years afterward, nothing major happened.
During this period, the Rangers stationed near Wayfort, on the edge of the Ettenmoors, finally mapped out the geography of this vast wasteland and began to push deeper into it year by year.
As they advanced, many ruined structures and relics of the former Kingdom of Arnor were discovered.
Using these ruins as foundations, the Rangers built new fortresses atop them, continuously strengthening their defenses, guarding firmly against both the remnants of Angmar to the north and the orc hordes from Mount Gram at the far end of the Misty Mountains.
The Lone-lands were at peace.
From the South Downs to the North Downs, from the Weather Hills to the Trollshaws and even to the valley beyond, no trace of orcs or trolls could be found.
But peace came with a price.
The orcs were driven out of these lands into the depths of the Ettenmoors, where they joined the Witch-king's remaining followers and the mountain trolls, forming a considerable force.
The garrisons at the southern border of the Ettenmoors faced mounting pressure. They had to remain constantly vigilant of movements in the north and always maintain enough troops to prevent the enemy from launching an assault that could break the line.
As new defensive lines were built one after another, the orcs' territory was steadily compressed, and the region grew increasingly heated with conflict. Battles erupted almost nightly.
Compared to previous years, the northern front of the Lone-lands was clearly much more intense. The best proof was that in recent years, the number of Rangers awarded the Outstanding Ranger Medal nearly doubled.
This situation lasted for quite some time.
Just as both sides were struggling with how to break the stalemate, Garrett, with nothing better to do at home, decided to visit. He looked at the bleak, snowbound wasteland, at the fierce fighting on the frontline...
After a moment of thought, he pulled out his blocks and began linking the fortresses that the Rangers had built atop old Arnorian watchtower ruins, then kept extending them outward on both sides.
And so it went on for years. Along the way, countless orc war-bands were wiped out, many trolls were felled, and strongholds were destroyed.
In the spring of the year 2967, a wall was erected across the Ettenmoors, holding back the multitudes of enemies from Angmar and Mount Gram.
Faced with this towering wall that stretched as far as the eye could see, the enemy knew only despair.
The stalemate was broken. It had become a deadlock.
With the wall as their solid bulwark, the Rangers' burden lightened considerably. They continued their patrols and activities from the former watchtowers and fortresses.
The conflict never ceased, but this time, the Rangers had an unshakable defense at their backs.
As a result, the operating patterns of the Wayfort Rangers shifted. Some left the very frontlines to garrison the fortresses along the wall, watching and guarding.
Over time, those stationed along the wall were recognized as a distinct branch of the Ranger corps.
They came to be known as the Watchers.
Some elderly historians sighed, "Never in my life have I been this busy."
They quickly picked up their pens to continue compiling records, documenting every change in detail.
Distant folk marveled at this new northern wonder, while the nearby Rangers could never forget the sight they had witnessed with their own eyes, that figure laying block after block, building the wall unceasingly, etched forever in memory and legend.
Another year passed.
In the spring of 2968, Garrett wandered into Dale.
As always, the city bustled with prosperity.
For the umpteenth time, he sat by the window at his usual table, waiting for Bard to finish brewing the tea.
Since he always chose this same spot whenever he came, the seat had practically become Garrett's personal place. No one else ever took it.
Even Bard himself, when he had business to attend to, always sat across from him. That way, whenever Garrett dropped by, he could sit right down without a word, speak up if there was business, or simply chat idly over afternoon tea if there wasn't. Sometimes he would join them. He would bring over a chair from elsewhere, sit at the side of the small table, take over part of Bard's work, and listen to the two chatting, occasionally joining in with a few words of his own.
"I was too naive," he said while rummaging through the cupboard for some pastries. "I never imagined that after just a few years, the world would see another structure worthy of being called a wonder. I really want to see for myself just how long that wall is."
"It's not that long."
"That I don't believe."
Bard came over carrying a tray full of pastries and set them on the table.
Garrett didn't continue the subject. Instead, he took a sip of tea and asked about the nearby lands:
"How's Erebor these days?"
Bard settled into his seat while arranging the pastries. "Most of the halls have already been restored. Everything looks new again. You can go and see for yourself later."
"That's wonderful."
Garrett nodded, then turned his gaze to Bain.
This young man, no, by now he should be called a seasoned warrior, had, ever since graduating from Wayfort, remained stationed in Dale, serving as the city's commander.
There was no favoritism involved. He had earned the position entirely through his own merit and the people's support.
"How quickly time passes," he remarked. "The boy from back then has grown fully, now able to shoulder such responsibilities."
Bard, with a meaningful tone, echoed him, "Yes, he truly does have more burdens to carry now."
"Why don't you stay here a while longer this time?" Bard asked, extending an invitation that was rare for him.
"Of course," Garrett agreed readily, though with some curiosity. He knew the Bowman never loosed an arrow without reason.
Bard didn't draw things out. He patted Bain's broad shoulder and said, "Our boy is getting married next month. He's found a kind and beautiful girl he loves."
"Oh?"
Garrett smiled and turned to Bain.
"Very good. Congratulations."
He placed a hand on Bain's other shoulder and added, "Then I'll stay another month and see for myself these two lovers as they wed."
Under the warm gaze of the two older men, one on either side, Bain looked a little overwhelmed, fidgeting with his hands.
No matter how old he was or how much authority he commanded outside, here, at this table, he was still just a young man.
But even amid their teasing, though his expression was awkward and he didn't quite know what to say, Bain felt a deep sense of ease.
Before him sat his father, and beside him another man who, though no blood relation, had always been there like a father as well, someone whose presence he could always feel.
With these two by his side, he felt truly warm.
And when he thought of the momentous occasion awaiting him next month, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.
Perhaps this was one of the happiest moments of a man's life, right here, right now.