"That doesn't look like a good omen."
A troll with a chilling aura, a werewolf, and an orc whose origin and allegiance were both unknown.
"What do you plan to do?" Gandalf asked Garrett.
"What else can I do? Of course, I'm going to take a look."
"I'll go with you," Gandalf decided on the spot.
"Aren't you going to deal with the One Ring first?"
"This matter isn't urgent, or rather, it can't be rushed."
"Do you have other plans?"
"I do," Gandalf replied. "This is no trivial matter. I intend to have Aragorn inform our other allies so we can discuss it together."
"What do you think of that?"
"Sounds reasonable," Garrett agreed.
"I don't have any particular opinion about the Ring. In the worst case, we'll just have to face Mordor head-on and launch another great war. But that's too aggressive... you know me, I'm a rather conservative person."
Conservative? Gandalf's expression turned a bit strange.
Only he would think of himself that way.
"If there's a better solution, I don't mind lending my support."
"That's good to hear." Gandalf felt slightly relieved by Garrett's response.
After gaining Garrett's support, Gandalf left for the moment to give Aragorn some instructions. And just like that, Aragorn had something new to do.
"Where are you going?"
Seeing Aragorn preparing to leave, Frodo, who had grown closest to him recently, asked.
Aragorn's reply was brief.
"To Rivendell."
"Rivendell?"
At that word, Frodo's eyes lit up.
"The place Bilbo went to?"
"Bilbo? Ah, yes, there is a Hobbit named Bilbo living there."
"That's wonderful!"
Frodo immediately began packing his things.
"I'll go with you! It's been so long since I've seen him. I wonder how he's been doing."
"He's doing well. I saw him the last time I was in Rivendell, but he was focused on writing his book, so I didn't disturb him."
As they spoke, the other three Hobbits came over.
"Writing a book?"
Merry, Pippin, and Sam exchanged glances.
"After all this time, Bilbo's book must be finished by now."
"Yeah, the last time we sneaked a peek, he was only halfway done!"
"Rivendell, that's the home of those Elves we met on the road, right?"
"Please, take us with you!"
The Hobbits pleaded earnestly.
Aragorn nodded.
"I suppose that's fine..."
"You met Elves on the road?" Garrett, who had just finished speaking with Gandalf, joined the conversation.
Aragorn replied, "Yes. We ran into Gildor of the House of Finrod, a Noldorin Elf. He led a small group on a pilgrimage to the Grey Havens in the spring, and they were just returning when we crossed paths."
Frodo chimed in excitedly, "It was my first time seeing Elves! They were just like the stories say, graceful, tall, and mostly friendly."
"And the others?" Garrett asked.
"Uh... I heard there are some Wood-elves in Mirkwood..."
That made Aragorn laugh.
Poor Wood-elves, suffering from bad reputation.
"Take them with you," Garrett suggested. "Bilbo will surely be happy to see them."
And so, following Garrett's advice, Aragorn set out on the road with the four Hobbits in tow.
But that happened a few days later. They had rested for a while at Wayfort before continuing their journey. The path from Wayfort to Rivendell was still within the keep's area of protection, so there was little danger along the way. They could travel at ease.
They followed the main road, crossed the Last Bridge, stopped to take a look at the famous Trollshaws, and finally, at a leisurely pace, arrived at Rivendell.
Elrond came to welcome them warmly, and Frodo finally got to see Bilbo again, just as he had hoped.
"Lately? I've been doing wonderfully," Bilbo said with great cheer.
"You've changed so much," Frodo said softly, looking at Bilbo's now-grey hair and the unmistakable signs of age.
"Yes, quite a bit," Bilbo admitted. "Ever since I came here, that strange tugging feeling on me has vanished."
Frodo smiled and nodded. Bilbo took him around the most scenic parts of Rivendell, and Frodo couldn't help but stare in amazement.
"What a beautiful place."
"How does it compare to Wayfort? I heard you stayed there for a while."
Frodo hesitated for a moment, then said, "They're about the same."
"But Wayfort is much livelier."
"That's true," Bilbo laughed. "Actually, I hesitated for a long time about whether to live at Wayfort or here in Rivendell. The people and Elves in both places are equally kind and friendly. But in the end, I chose to live here. Mostly because I prefer the quiet and lofty scenery here. And I can often speak with Elves. They teach me things that help with my new book. Wayfort has Elves too, but they're always so busy! Each one has dozens of students, and if I wanted to meet them, I'd have to make an appointment first. Oh, by the way, where's Garrett? Didn't he come with you? It's been ages since I last saw him."
"Garrett and Gandalf are together. They went further north from Wayfort, seemed to be something urgent."
"What a pity," Bilbo sighed.
---
Far away, atop the ruined walls of Carn Dûm in the snowy mountains of Angmar, Gandalf couldn't help but gasp.
"I know this armor style all too well. Even though it's almost completely rotted away, that feeling is unmistakable."
He prodded the frozen corpse on the ground with his staff.
"From what I can tell, he's the same species as the orcs we've seen before, but not from the same faction. These are Morgoth's soldiers, likely the earliest orcs who somehow survived from the First Age. I can't imagine where they've been living all this time. I'd wager that if you put them together with the orcs of the Misty Mountains, or even Mordor, they'd start fighting each other instantly."
Garrett crouched down to inspect the corpse, feeling the bitter chill emanating from it. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Well, that's interesting."
"Indeed it is," Gandalf agreed, kneeling beside him to study the body closely.
"Where could they have come from?"
"The answer is probably farther north," Garrett mused, then made a decision.
"Gandalf, I... hmm?"
Before he could finish, a sudden commotion echoed across the distant mountains.
A powerful host of monsters was charging down from the snowy peaks, slamming into the ruined walls of Carn Dûm. The trolls smashed through the neglected gates, while wargs slipped inside like ghosts, sniffing for signs of life. Behind them, orcs shrieked and rushed in, their vicious, murky eyes darting everywhere. But they were doomed to disappointment. There were no "Men" here as they imagined, only a wizard, and Garrett.
The original garrison had long since withdrawn.
Whoosh!
Garrett drew his greatsword forged from Dragonflame Steel and leapt from the wall with a thunderous crash, cutting down a pack of wargs in a single swing. He swept the sword again, cleaving through a cluster of orcs. Several mindless snow-trolls lumbered forward, trying to cause him trouble.
Boom!
A burst of dazzling white light erupted from the wall, Gandalf's spell. The trolls reeled in confusion, momentarily blinded. Seizing the chance, Garrett dashed forward and struck them down with swift, clean blows.
"Nice flash," Garrett said with a grin.