When Groiznath awoke, it was dawn. His head was no longer on the rim of the cauldron. It was as if the cauldron had shrunk. His shoulders were well out of it, his body seemed to fill it, and he could hardly move his knees. The water was cold, but he hardly noticed that. For in the dim light he saw the parts of his body that protruded from the cauldron. They were covered with long stiff hair, the colour of which, in the growing light, appeared almost green. He opened his mouth to exclaim, but instead of words there came forth a weird noise, like a mixture of booming, whirring, and humming. Grasping the rim of the great vessel, he lifted himself out with ease and jumped down. The movement awoke the three Gyúgri, who leapt up and cried out with horror, anger, and disgust.
And Fandrumin said:
‘A gulbân! Sisters, we have made a gross gulbân out of him, instead of a Ganga lover for ourselves!’
And Fulgimur said:
‘May you remain a gulbân until she who dares gives you her kiss!’
And Furgumal said:
‘Till that time, get you gone, gulbân!’
They seized sticks and beat at him. He hardly felt the blows. His body had become hard, his skin like thick hide. They pelted him with stones. He did not look back, but with great strides of his long gulbân’s legs he strode away from the camp of the Gyúgri and down the Giants’ Road.
He had a mind to find where the Secret River went to, after it passed through the rapids and into the tunnels deep beneath Kapgar Kûm. ‘For,’ he reasoned, ‘it cannot come to a stop, or else the waters would accumulate instead of running away; nor can it simply disappear into the earth; somewhere it must issue again from the Dagnath Nebren. Perhaps one or two of those men who accompanied me even survived being swept away and are alive still at the outlet of the watercourse; but that I greatly doubt.’ Then he thought, ‘but now I am a gulbân by the sorcery of the Gyúgri, no men will recognize me or receive me.’
The Giants’ Road led southwards, and somewhat to the west, until it finally descended into the lower hills, the southern Karûn Kabdath. Then it turned again towards the south and ran into the Yivandâl, where the Hyûvandri now dwelt. At that point another road built by the Giants turned away westward and, after many miles, met the southern shore of the great western lake, Fleswenta-Féorë. It followed the edge of the lake and the bank of the river Fêothálu that flowed from it far away into the remote west of Thrâyeldim until it came to the havens of the Silúna on the western sea.
Groiznath turned off along this western road and followed it for some days as far as Fleswenta-Féorë. But then the thought struck him that the Fêothálu, in its course above the lake, flowed down from the Dagnath Nebren. This then might be the outflow of the Secret River. He turned to the east again, up into the rough hill country where no paths had yet been made. Here the river was young and only a stone’s cast wide, but still deep, rushing at speed over a stony bed. On the north side of the river a great dark wall of ancient trees began, stretching for mile after mile, even over the rapidly rising ground. This was the forest that came to be called Farangrim, the place of the borderers, when in after years bold Hyûvandri came to dwell here, pasturing their black cattle under the forest eaves.
But strangely, there seemed to be better going on the forest side of the river, almost as if a path had been made. Groiznath was no woodsman and did not know how this might have come about, but he greatly desired to come to the outflow of the Secret River. He resolved to make the crossing of the river. By now it was night, and so, on the far side he lay down without fear among the trees and slept.
When Groiznath awoke, it was almost dark. All around were tall black forest trees. A voice was chanting. Figures were sitting and standing on all sides with dim lights in their hands. They were Fâdhéri, the wild Entellári of the Berufarána, the Greenmarch. This borderland between the lands of the Hyûvandri and the Northlands was their realm. In their midst stood the one who was chanting, a tall Entelláya, with her arms upraised, intoning the greater rune. She was the Lady of the Isle of Fleswenta Féore, mistress of the Western River, in whose waters Groiznath had unknowingly trespassed.
The chant reached a climax and fell silent. Groiznath was pushed and prodded to his feet. Then they drove Groiznath with their staves into the further reaches of the forest and melted away, leaving him wandering with silent feet, but uttering, every now and then, his melancholy booming and whirring. And so he was doomed to continue until the return of his father. In after years the Farangri who settled at the forest margins called him Thangwerga, the din-stalker.
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