Iofan awoke on the banks of the river, coughing out the water which had invaded his lungs. Beside him were a couple of fishermen; large, strong Men with fishing poles and nets and spears with which to skewer fish. They were watching Iofan closely, hunched over his small, limp body, checking his blood flow and listening to his breathing. When Iofan saw what was going on, he couldn't help but laugh. What luck, to be saved like that! Perhaps the spirits were looking out for him after all.
At this laugh, the fishermen leaped to their feet and took hold of their spears. But Iofan showed no signs of intending to attack, and his laughing fit was cut short as he rolled over on his side and began coughing again. But hobbits are resilient creatures, and before long he was up and walking again.
They were on the edge of a great expanse of marshland known as the Dunbog. It was a large, flat, wet country within a land known mostly for its hills and stones. Iofan had heard stories of a swamp which lay far to the south; it was visited by the last great hobbit traveler, Anarad Brocktull, some one hundred years ago. He recalled the name of the tribe of Dunlendings which inhabited this desolate swamp, the Avanc-lûth.
The fishermen took Iofan to their village at the center of the Dunbog, Lhan Rhos. It was a town constructed of mud and wet wood, built on stilts and wooden platforms. He had never seen anything like it, it was an architectural marvel to him. The fishermen presented Iofan to their elders, Déin and Kedivor, who agreed to house the hobbit for a time while he recovered.
He recovered completely within a few days, but he had nowhere to go. The elders put him to work, collecting mud to repair houses, collecting reeds to string bows, and hunting frogs to eat. All of his meals for his first week at Lhan Rhos consisted primarily of frog legs. When a group of hunters returned from a slug hunt, he was so sick of frog that he was eager to try the mushy, chewy, viscous liquid-like slug meat. He was pleasantly surprised by its taste, but the texture would take some getting used to.
A week and a half since he had arrived, Iofan volunteered to go on a turtle hunt. The giant turtles of the Dunbog were no match for his aim on his old, trusty bow, which had luckily survived with him on his boating trip down the river. He was able to kill two turtles with only two arrows, deftly aimed at their small, vulnerable heads. A third turtle was killed by the other brave hunters, who, to the amazement of Iofan, used only their spears.
They dragged the corpses back to Lhan Rhos, and there was much rejoicing. The elders declared a feast that night, to celebrate the successful hunt. That night, in the center of the town, where the market was in the day, three great fire pits were made (much to Iofan's nervousness, as the entire town was made out of wood), and over them suspended were the three turtle shells. In the shells were three vats of turtle soup, the greatest of the delicacies of the Avanc-lûth.
All of the tribe gathered and ate the soup, and they were all grateful to Iofan for his hunting skills. They sang songs, and told stories, and eventually they pushed Iofan to tell his own story, how he got there, and where he would be going. He had avoided the topic up to that point, and nobody really knew what the mysterious halfling was up to. Admittedly, Iofan himself didn't really know what he was up to.
He jumped up on a table, and offered a song instead of a story, which he thought was especially fit for the occasion. He sung a traditional hobbit ditty about a giant turtle in the sea, which seemed to be a small island, and which lured sailors to land upon it. Then, the turtle would flip over, drowning the sailors. His crowd, the Avanc-lûth, thought the song to be hilarious, and they quickly forgot their wish to hear his past and his intentions.
But Iofan did not forget, and he knew he would have to leave eventually. The Avanc-lûth were a poor people, and he could not repay his debts by staying among them forever. Weeks passed, and Iofan found himself at an impasse. He couldn't leave, as he had nowhere to go, but he couldn't stay, because his journey would never be complete, and he could never return home. Still he stayed with the elders in their home, although increasingly he went on more and more hunts, usually for slugs or giant toads.
Then, one evening, Iofan met a stranger from another tribe, and as they talked, Iofan found his purpose: to join this man's war against his enemy, the "forgoil". The stranger, Gryffudd, said that they were a decently wealthy people, at least more so than the Dunlendings, and Iofan knew this was his opportunity to repay his debts, and redeem himself in the eyes of his kinsmen. He would join the war, on the side of Dunland.
