The reforging of Narsil, the Holy Sword, would take time, and both the Fellowship and the various factions needed to make their own preparations.
After the meeting ended, everyone did not set out immediately. Instead, they stayed in Rivendell for a while, waiting until everything was ready before officially beginning the expedition.
As for the specific preparations...
First came ensuring the safety of the surrounding area.
Elrond met privately with Garrett to discuss the situation nearby.
"I was planning to send out all the scouts of Rivendell to survey the surroundings," Elrond said, picking up a small stone teapot from the table and pouring Garrett a steaming cup of fine tea, "but it seems that might not be necessary now."
"That's true enough," Garrett replied without false modesty. "You needn't worry about the safety of the road, at least not west of the Misty Mountains. The wildlands there are full of our people. Even if you set out with no supplies at all, just shouting for help on the road would bring someone willing to share enough provisions to get you far along the way."
Elrond chuckled. "And what if no one comes?"
"Then shout a few more times," Garrett said with a grin, "or walk a bit further to the nearest outpost for help. Hmm... Gandalf often travels that way. He knows exactly where our supply points are."
"I must say, that's reassuring."
Elrond finally felt a little more at ease.
That meant he no longer had to worry about environmental reconnaissance.
Still, to prevent any accidents, Garrett ordered the two nearby cities to heighten their alertness and conduct a full reconnaissance of Eriador, leaving no potential threat unchecked.
With the matter of the route's starting point safety settled for the time being, Elrond went on to handle other preparations, while Garrett had plans of his own.
That afternoon, he went to visit the Hobbits' quarters.
"Hey, you there, the round-faced lad, come over here."
In a quiet courtyard, Garrett waved at the young man gazing at the scenery not far away, signaling him to come closer.
That lad, of course, was Sam.
"Good day to you, my lord, Lord Garrett, the Warden of the North," Sam said timidly, looking up at him. "May I ask what you need from me?"
Seeing the young Hobbit's nervous demeanor, Garrett couldn't help but smile.
"You're Sam, right? Samwise Gamgee. I know you. Your father used to visit Bilbo quite often. We've met a few times. The year you were born, I happened to visit the Shire, and I even held you in my arms."
Garrett patted Sam on the shoulder, giving him a quick once-over.
"You've grown up quite a bit since then, much sturdier now."
After hearing that, Sam immediately felt that this legendary figure before him wasn't so distant after all, almost like some long-lost relative.
To others, such small talk might seem awkward, especially to someone as reserved as a certain Gondorian commander, but Hobbits were different. They loved chatting about these things: who was related to whom, distant cousins and family ties, and so on. Once they started, it was hard to stop, even with someone they'd just met.
Take Pippin, for example. He could sit in an inn and recite Frodo's entire family tree, then go on to explain how he was related to Frodo, and by which branch of which cousin.
It had to be said, Hobbits truly loved a good bit of family gossip.
"Really?" Sam asked curiously.
"Of course," Garrett said. "Didn't your father ever mention it? Once, when I visited Bilbo, I happened to run into the two of them drinking together. They were sharing one of your father's treasured bottles of old wine, and I got a few cups myself."
Sam listened, wide-eyed. "What a wonderful coincidence..."
"Indeed," Garrett said with a smile. "The world works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, fate just ties people together like that."
After this brief bit of small talk, Garrett turned back to the real reason he had called Sam over.
"I know you and Frodo are close friends," he said. "You joined this journey out of concern for him, and that kind of friendship is truly admirable."
Under Sam's gaze, Garrett took out a sword, a finely crafted short sword that shimmered faintly with an almost imperceptible glow.
He had forged it only a few days earlier. Its basic qualities were on par with elven craftsmanship, sharp, and Garrett had also added several enchantments to it.
The most powerful among them was Bane of Arthropods V, which dealt extra damage to spider-like creatures. When used against one, it could unleash several times the sword's usual power.
Finally, a small inscription was engraved along the blade: "Forged by Garrett, gifted to those who embark upon the Great Quest."
"I present this sword to you," Garrett said. "Perhaps it will help you in moments of peril."
He paused, then added softly, "Though I sincerely hope you'll never need to use it."
"I'll remember that," Sam said solemnly, taking the short sword with both hands and bowing deeply.
Leaving Sam's dwelling, Garrett next went to find Pippin and Merry, and, by coincidence, found someone else there as well.
"Erestor? What are you doing here?"
His first elven friend, Erestor, was chatting happily with the two Hobbits when Garrett arrived.
"You're here, Garrett," Erestor said, turning at the sound of his familiar voice. "I came to give these Hobbits a few essentials, mostly weapons. Look."
He gestured toward Merry and Pippin, each holding a short sword that looked sharp and well-balanced.
"Seems I needn't worry, then," Garrett said with a smile and a shake of his head. Still, he took their weapons and added a few enchantments of his own before handing them back.
After chatting with Erestor for a while, Garrett went off again, this time to find Frodo. He found him walking with Bilbo, the two of them reminiscing about the years gone by.
There wasn't much Garrett could give Frodo.
In terms of armor, Frodo already had the mithril mail shirt, tougher than netherite. Wearing that, even if a cave troll jabbed at him with a spear strong enough to pierce an ox, he would come away with little more than a scratch.
And as for a weapon, Sting was no ordinary blade, despite its humble appearance.
So in that respect, Garrett had nothing to worry about. But equipment was only one part of the journey. There were other, more important things.
After spending some time talking with Bilbo and Frodo, the night grew late. Bilbo, old and weary, eventually retired to bed.
He and Frodo talked a bit longer about small things, until Frodo began to grow drowsy, struggling to keep his eyes open. He looked at Garrett and said, half in wonder, "I don't know if it's just my imagination, but it seems like you never need to sleep."
"Sleep?" Garrett thought for a moment, then said, "Sometimes I do, but mostly, it's just a way to pass the time."
"How strange," Frodo murmured, unable to quite picture such a thing. He really was tired now.
"Frodo," Garrett said suddenly.
Frodo looked up.
"Journeys are always full of the unexpected," Garrett said quietly. "Even with all my preparations, there will be things I cannot foresee. I cannot make any absolute promises, nor can I travel with you myself. But I will do everything in my power, in my own way, to keep you safe."
---
Clop-clop.
The sound of hooves echoed from the entrance to Rivendell.
At dawn, Garrett mounted his horse and rode away.
There was still some time before the Fellowship's official departure, and with everyone busy preparing, expecting Garrett to simply sit idle in Rivendell was asking too much.
And it wasn't as if he truly had nothing to do.
West of the Misty Mountains, he had already organized the defenses of Wayfort and the City of Waters. Now, he took the Sky Road east, toward the territories beyond the mountains.
The lands of Rhovanion and Dale were secure. Outposts were fully manned, keeping watch on Dol Guldur and preparing for the coming offensive.
Saruman must be growing impatient by now, Garrett thought with a faint smile.