-General-
"What you are saying is very grave, Aldril," Gandalf chided with a frown. "But I cannot dismiss it. Lately, Saruman has grown distant since the last battle against the Ringwraiths, and even more so since the dark foreboding I felt when I was given a sample of those parasitic creatures from Moria."
Elrond, for his part, lowered his head thoughtfully, his eyes moving slowly as if he were piecing together invisible fragments. As for Galadriel, she nodded serenely, backing the Half-elven.
Her melodious voice drew the attention of all.
"Aldril is right," she began, sweeping her gaze over those present. "I am very sensitive to darkness, and the last time we saw the White Wizard, something was stirring within him, hidden in the deepest part of his heart. We must be careful, lest that spark become an ember capable of consuming him completely."
There was a brief silence, until the Grey Wizard rose.
"I will warn Radagast," he said. "He usually roams the woods surrounding Isengard; with his... particular nature, Saruman will suspect nothing."
With that last comment, he turned and left the room. As he advanced, he whistled like a songbird, attracting numerous birds that gathered at the exit, as if awaiting the message the wizard was about to entrust to them.
The eyes that had followed the Grey Wizard then returned to the center of the table.
"As for the situation in the East, how do matters stand?" asked Elrond.
Little news had arrived from the Men of those lands, which was, in a way, a good sign: everything seemed to be in order.
Raizan, hearing the mention of his kingdom, nodded respectfully before such a legendary figure.
"Things are on the right path. We have been hunting the stragglers who bowed to the Dark Lord... but many groups managed to flee toward Mordor, entering via the foothills of Ered Lithui."
As if recalling something crucial, the King of the East's countenance darkened.
"We could not get too close; we did not have enough men to face the great number of Orcs guarding that place. Even so, we obtained vital information."
His piercing gaze fixed upon Augura and Belegor.
"There are more than seven mûmakil guarding that zone."
Belegor sprang up, bumping against the table and making it tremble; the wine in his goblet nearly spilled. With both hands resting on the wood, he exclaimed:
"Seven?!"
His breathing grew ragged, charged with disbelief and rage.
"Those bastards... When we pursued them, they were fleeing with barely three."
"It is probable they had been moving forces in secret for some time. It wasn't until they made a large-scale movement that we realized," answered Augura with apparent calm, though in her eyes burned the fierceness of one who has been bested by a clever play.
Her words were met with nods and murmurs from Galadriel and Elrond. They, better than anyone, understood that at that moment little or nothing could be done. Thus, they limited themselves to offering counsel and foresight, anticipating what measures to take should those elephants begin a march to attack.
"For my part, everything in Rohan is in order, though I do not know if I should worry about the warning concerning the White Wizard," said Fredis, opening her angelic eyes; eyes that captivated Raizan to the depths of his being.
Galadriel nodded and looked at the one blessed by Estë.
"Should our fears become reality, we will support Rohan."
"I would be deeply grateful," Fredis replied with a slight bow, after which she fell silent once more. Her gentle and reserved character was, to say the least, soothing.
In that circle, a representative of Gondor was solely missing, who, by misfortune or for reasons unknown, had sent no one to Aldril's wedding. In a way, it was their loss, for matters of great import were discussed there, as well as alliances and contingency plans against the possibility that Sauron, like his master Morgoth of old, might launch a devastating attack that would take everyone by surprise.
It is worth remembering that Morgoth achieved such a feat thanks to his new creatures: dragons and salamanders. However, those terrors were nearly annihilated during the War of Wrath. Only a few managed to escape, and even those, with the passage of time, met a rather inglorious end.
...
The talk and the stories shared that night would be remembered only by the most prominent figures: it was one of the first councils held after a long time, and a wedding that united a great part of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth.
Then, time began to flow like the April wind: soft and constant, effortlessly giving way from winter to spring. Our dear half-elf did not set off on adventures again, for it was no longer just his life he had to guard; now he had a wife… and a home to protect.
"Dad!" cried a small boy of five, running straight into Aldril's arms, who received him with a smile full of pride and happiness.
After spinning him in the air, Aldril opened his arms once more to welcome another small figure, of similar height, but with reddish hair and delicate features revealing her to be a girl.
"Daddy," she said, throwing herself to meet him.
As he held them and cradled them in his arms, Tauriel approached sweetly, wearing a wide smile. Her belly, barely prominent, gave proof of the time passed. She was now the mother of twins: Elenion—Son of the Stars—and Elentárië—Maiden of the Stars. Both had come into the world without warning, for although the nights shared with Aldril were intense and passionate, it was well known that for Elves, offspring were not easily achieved.
And yet, there they were.
Watching her two little ones and feeling the third one yet to be born within her womb, Tauriel could not help but shake her head with a smile charged with irony. While Legolas's son had been quite a sensation in his time, hers were even more so. Being the youngest, they had become the darlings of the entire Forest of Rebirth, especially of their grandmother Thalwen and of Thranduil, who never missed an occasion to shower them with caresses and games.
"Dad, will you take us to Bilbo's birthday?" asked Elenion. The little one was a lover of stories, and even more so of Bilbo's narrations, for the Hobbit possessed a special gift for captivating children.
Elentárië shared her brother's excitement.
"Yes, I want to go see Bilbo. Surely he has many new stories to tell."
"Your father has lived more adventures than you could imagine, and yet you prefer to listen to Bilbo?" remarked Aldril, arching a brow and smiling ironically.
"Dad tells the stories too fast and it's boring," replied Elenion without hesitation.
"Yes, dad, your stories are very monotonous," added his daughter, nodding with conviction.
Shaking his head, the half-elf let the slight pass with good humor. Though he had lived through countless feats, he rarely spoke of them, and when he did, it was always briefly. However, seeing both little ones laugh, he could not help but remember how life took so many turns: from being a boy who knew not his own origins, he came to be a fearsome adventurer and dragon hunter… one who would very soon undertake his final adventure.
"Very well, pack your things. In a week we shall go to Bilbo's birthday."
Aldril set them down and watched them run off in a rush, a smile drawing itself upon his face. As he watched his children, Tauriel approached and leaned her body against his.
"Our third child also wants to go with you," she whispered, tenderly caressing her softly rounded belly.
With a jovial laugh, Aldril embraced his beloved wife; for a moment he closed his eyes and let Tauriel's floral scent intoxicate him.
"Then we must pack our things, my dear."
**
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