Atanamir and his son prepared the shipment in a matter of hours. They rented some oxen from an old man in the village, who charged dearly for them. Atanamir's son, named Núrin, stored the gunpowder, a valuable resource in those times, and very necessary in the big cities, in small barrels, while his father carries a large piece of bread and a bottle of rum onto the cart. When the night closed, everything was ready. Atanamir placed on his belt a sword and a pistol, while Núrin carried in his backpack a set of maps and a compass, a novel artifact recently brought by the great merchants of the Far East to the lands of the Reunited Kingdom, and which was extremely useful to read the letters and find yourself in a night without stars.
"Who is the buyer of all this gunpowder?" Asked one of Atanamir's nephews, who worked in the great mines east of the Bay.
"I'm afraid I don't have that answer" he replied. "Old Calion always has big ideas and little time, and no sales he has managed have ever failed. I am sure that by selling all this shipment in Norburg I will earn much more than simply giving it as a tribute to the Northern Trade Company."
"Old Calion is famous for his audacity, so much so for his lack of prudence," said a voice from within the house. She was the youngest daughter of Atanamir, named Málena. "Going through the Evendim Hills is dangerous without an escort. The night covers the thieves and highway robbers with shadows and at this time only the great caravans of the Company risk passing through those routes under the veil of night. You better wait until first light to leave, father."
"We have to save time, Málena" he replied dismissively. "No serious assailant will attack a cart of poor cannon powder dealers. And if some gang of bandits takes us by surprise, I will not hesitate to use the gun."
And without further words, they left under the cover of the great Star.
They walked slowly away from the village, following the path that would lead them south, while Núrin hummed a song under his breath. The village lanterns, which seemed in the distance a dense constellation of stars, disappeared on the horizon, while the cold blizzards of Forochel diminished, to give way to the fresh fragrance of the fields of Eriador, which during those days no longer he bore that name among the inhabitants of the Reunited Kingdom. During the last years, the roads between the North and the capital had been very dangerous, always full of bandits and thugs, ready to steal the merchandise of the defenseless merchants, and Fornost did not protect the alternative routes to the great North-South road, which communicated the city with the capital of the Kingdom, far to the south on the Anduin. The only way to safely carry cargo was by joining the trading company, which was not profitable for the mining towns east of Forochel, nor west of the Misty Mountains. Atanamir stopped the carriage at dawn, and Núrin built a fire to prepare breakfast. Around the atmosphere seemed placid and comforting. The birds were awakened by the first rays of the sun, and a stream that ran from the hills made a reverberating sound. In the distance could be seen the Peak of the Winds, a great bastion of the ancient kingdom of Arnor.
"How much will we earn from this business?" said the always clever Núrin, while heating some bread for breakfast.
"Hopefully long enough to do it again" his father replied, with a slight smile on his face.
Suddenly, the soft whispers of the wind were displaced by a mighty trumpet roar. Father and son were startled and looked back at the source of that shocking noise. They sharpened their eyes and saw a host coming up the road, all in armor, though ramshackle. It was a troop of the Kingdom, which came from Annúminas. They were probably heading towards the Gray Havens, but it was strange that such a great force walked these paths. The armies of the Reunited Kingdom always congregated in Gondor, and royal troops rarely came north. The Northern Trade Company sometimes requested soldiers in the north to guard their caravans, but they always operated near Hithaeglir or through the Misty Mountains.
Atanamir pushed the carriage into the hills, away from the trail. They waited for almost an hour, while the army advanced at a slow pace. After losing the last man below the horizon, both returned to the road and continued advancing towards Annúminas, where they hoped to rest safely. The city rested on the shores of Lake Nenuial, where the Baranduin river is born. Annúminas had once been a plausible urban center, the beautiful capital of Arnor. The red-tiled houses, thick walls, and squat towers were reminiscent of ancient cities because this town had not been redesigned or changed much after the Reunification of King Elessar.