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#The Return of the King
musicprincess1990 · 2 hours ago
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On today's episode of I Make Random Lists...
Things in The Return of the King that make me bawl like a baby:
Frodo ditching Sam because of Gollum's manipulation
Theoden's death (GOD, THIS ONE 😭)
Sam grieving over Frodo when he thinks he's dead
"End? No the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path."
Eomer screaming in agony over finding an unconscious and badly wounded Eowyn
The elephants/oliphants/whatever being killed (I know they're on the bad side, but they're just innocent animals!)
Pippin finding Merry and saying he's going to look after him
"But it is not this day! This day, we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you STAND, MEN OF THE WEST!!!"
Sam carrying Frodo without hesitation, even though he's been figuratively carrying him all through the trilogy
"...For Frodo." AND THEN THEY KICK ASS!!
"Don't you let go!!"
Sam remembering Rosie Cotton dancing
The reunion of the Fellowship
"My friends... you bow to no one."
Every damn second of the Grey Havens
I LOVE THIS MOVIE ALRIGHT ❤😭
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maaaddiexo · 3 hours ago
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The Within Series | Legolas Greenleaf
Book 1: The Devil Within - 1.8
Mainlist | Serieslist
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Nyx of Tyndall does not know love or kindness. Cursed at a young age by a jealous witch, Nyx has lived a life of solitude and death.
Until Gandalf the Grey requests her presence and uncontrollable skill in assisting a young Hobbit across Middle-Earth with nine others to destroy a ring so powerful all fall victim to its evil.
Not only must Nyx face Orcs, demons, and creatures she’s never seen before, but also the devil inside. Controlling the devil is the key to finding freedom in a spell that can’t be broken. But it will not be so easy for Nyx when every obstacle she faces pushes her to an edge she cannot return from.
Chapter Eight
Nyx marched through the halls of Rivendell angrily. Flight of stairs after flight of stairs she went until she was at the highest lookout point the Elves of Rivendell had built. The sound of water cascading down the mountain drowned out the sound of blood pumping angrily in her ears, but she could still feel it nonetheless. She crossed a small arched bridge in front of waterfall. The mist that came off put out the smoke on her cape.
Nyx discarded her cloak angrily, throwing it on the floor and kicking it away. Her face burned with anger and she rubbed her face, frustrated tears running down her cheeks. Not even a week she’d worn the ring and already it had torn down the defenses she’d spent over a decade building up. She braced herself against the stone balcony railing.
“Focus, Nyx. Like Gandalf taught you.”
“Milady Nyx?” An Elf stood timidly at the top of the stairs. Clearly, he knew he was interrupting something. “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.”
“Tell Elrond and Gandalf I will not be attending. They will understand.”
The Elf hesitated and then bowed. “Of course, Milady Nyx. Would you like to have it sent to your room?”
Nyx hesitated and then nodded curtly.
The Elf bowed once more and then descended the stairs quickly and Nyx felt her knees give out, splitting when they hit the stone. Her fingers gripped the stone spindles and her head rested against them. Nyx couldn’t find it in herself to move. Not even as the sun began to set and the temperature dropped.
Nyx was tired. She could go no further.
⍥⍥⍥
When Nyx woke up the next morning, she was still on the outlook, her cloak wrapped around her like a blanket with leaves in her hair.
Someone was touching her shoulder. She saw the familiar staff before she heard the voice.
“My dear, why sleep on the floor when you’ve been offered a bed.”
Nyx looked away. All around her were burnt leaves and grass. Her fingertips were black with ash. She’d spent a long time trying to control her anger the night before. And though she hadn’t burned down a gazebo, Rivendell wasn’t completely unscathed. “What time is it?”
“The Council is about to begin but Frodo refused to start without you. He insists you be part of the meeting.”
Nyx frowned. She wanted no part of the Ring and its journey, wherever it led. Not after what it did to her in less than a week. She felt the anger in her, glowing bright. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly.
“Come on. Up you get.” Gandalf helped Nyx to her feet and began to fret over her, pulling the leaves and twigs out of her hair and brushing down her cloak. “That’ll do.”
Nyx frowned and self-consciously pulled her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. They descended the stairs quickly, Nyx trailing behind the grey wizard. “Gandalf, I do not want to go with the Ring.”
“You do not have to. But attend for Frodo’s sake. Here,” he grabbed Nyx’s scythe and placed it in her hands. There was still dried blood on it from the last time she used it. “Come.”
Everyone was already seated in the Council Room and Nyx moved to stand behind Frodo’s chair. He smiled gratefully at her over his shoulder. She tried to smile back but wasn’t sure how convincing it was.
“Strangers from distant lands,” Elrond began. “Friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall.”
Nyx found Aragorn’s eyes across the circular room, fear brimming in her eyes. Her gave her a calm smile before turning to look at someone else. The Elf from the day before. They shared a familiar look with one another. A look of familiarity and friendship.
“Each race is bound to this fate – this one doom,” Elrond continued. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”
Frodo stood on shaky legs, looking at Gandalf and then Nyx behind him. She nodded encouragingly at him. He reached into his pocket as he walked towards the small stone table in the middle, octagonal in shape. He placed it on the stone gently but still, everyone heard it thud, like a boulder hitting the bottom of chasm.
Immediately, the Ring began to hum and sing, and everyone sat forward in their chairs, drawn to it. Except for Nyx. She took a step back in fear. Her fingers began to warm.
“So, it is true,” a man murmured. He stood up slowly. “In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west, a pale light lingered. Voices crying. Our doom is near at hand.” He moved closer to the Ring. “Isildur’s Bane is found.” He reached his hand forward. “Isildur’s Bane.”
“Boromir!” Elrond shouted. The man stood up with a fright, shaken out the Ring’s lure, and looked to the sky in shock as it began to darken.
Gandalf stood, reaching a hand to the sky. He began to chant in Black Speech.
Ash nazg durbatulûk
Ash nazg gimbatul
Ash nazg thrakatulûk
Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul
Nyx stared at the Ring, reciting the translation under her breath. It was the inscription on the Ring.
“One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all
And in the darkness bind them.”
With Gandalf’s word, the sky brightened as fast as it darkened and everyone sat back down except for Nyx, who had no seat.
“Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris.”
“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond,” Gandalf said to Elrond. “For the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the west. The Ring is altogether evil,” he reminded the people in front of him.
Boromir shook his head. “It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay! By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!”
“It cannot be used against its true master,” Nyx said angrily. “All it does is pull the evil from within and make you a monster.”
“And what do you, a mere girl, know about the Ring?” Another man spat at her. The rage bubbled in Nyx and her fingers did more than warm. Someone laid a hand on arm. Gandalf.
“Nyx is right,” Aragorn said. “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”
“And what would a Ranger know of this matter? You are no more experienced than the girl!”
“This is no mere Ranger.” Nyx watched as the silver-haired elf stood up. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” Aragorn and the Elf did know each other.
“And it would not be wise to insult Nyx,” Elrond added. “For she has the nasty habit of catching fire.”
“Witch!” A man hissed. Nyx glared at him, her eyes flaming orange. It was one of the few tricks she’d picked up over the years. The man gasped and then fainted, and Nyx smirked. She swore she heard Gandalf chuckle too.
Boromir looked at Nyx and then Aragorn. He chose to focus on the latter. “This is Isildur’s heir?”
“And heir to throne of Gondor,” the Elf added. Nyx winced. Salt in the wound, if you asked her.
“Havo dad, Legolas.” Nyx glanced at the elf as he obeyed his friend’s words to sit down. So his name was Legolas.
“Gondor has no King,” Boromir said. “Gondor needs no King.”
“Then what does that make you?” Nyx wondered.
Gandalf spoke before Boromir could respond to Nyx’s angry words. “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”
“You have only one choice,” Elrond added. “The Ring must be destroyed.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” The Dwarf with ginger hair and a thick Scottish accent stood up and swung his axe. His axe should have shattered the Ring. Instead, the axe splintered into pieces and the Dwarf was thrown onto his back.
Frodo flinched, grabbing for his head. Sauron’s Eye flashed in his mind.
Nyx dropped to the ground, feeling a stabbing pain in her chest as images flashed in her mind. White hair. Fire. A blade dripping in blood. Somebody screaming. She coughed and black liquid splattered onto the stone. Ichor. Her cheek burned.
“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Glóin, by any craft we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.”
Nyx wiped at her lips with the sleeve of her dress and stood up on weak legs. Gandalf offered her his arm.
“One of you must do this.”
There was silence all around.
“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Boromir argued quietly. “Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.”
“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?” Legolas demanded. “The Ring must be destroyed!”
“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it!” Gimli argued.
“And if we fail, what then?” Boromir added, standing up. “What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”
Gimli stood up – not that it made him any taller. “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!”
The other Elves stood at Gimli’s insult and, soon enough, everyone was standing and yelling over one another. Frodo sat still, staring at the Ring as it called for him.
“Nyx?”
“Yes, Frodo?”
“I think it needs to be me.”
“Are you saying that because It calls to you or because you are strong enough to fight Its call?”
“I’m doing it because I don’t want to do it. Everyone is fighting to be the one because they don’t want somebody else to do it. I just want it done.”
Nyx smiled. “Then say so.”
Frodo’s announcement went unheard the first time. And the second. Nyx huffed and grabbed her scythe, which she had placed on the ground at the beginning of the meeting. She lifted it and swung it down against the concrete as hard as she could. The blade embedded itself in the concrete until no more metal could be seen. The crack echoed all across Rivendell and across the ponds and ocean, bouncing off the sides of the cliff. The Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Wizard stopped arguing instantly.
Elrond sighed indignantly. “Why must you always break something when you visit?”
“Because you ignorant and stubborn men never listen. Now, shut up and sit down. All of you.” She stepped back as Frodo stepped forward, swallowing thickly. His hands were so sweaty.
“I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though…I do not know the way.”
“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins.” Gandalf gently touched the young Hobbit’s shoulder in reassurance. “So long as it is yours to bear.”
Aragorn stood. “If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will.” He walked across the circular room and knelt at Frodo’s feet. “You have my sword.”
“And you have my bow.” Legolas moved to Frodo too, passing Nyx on the way.
“And my axe,” Gimli promised.
Boromir stepped forward slowly. “You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.”
Nyx stared at Boromir a moment longer. She didn’t like the way he spoke to Frodo, and she certainly didn’t like the faraway look in his eye.
“Heh!” Something brushed the side of Nyx’s skirt and she watched as Sam jumped from behind some bushes and ran to Frodo’s side, crossing his arms. “Mister Frodo’s not going anywhere without me.”
Elrond looked down at Sam in both disappointment and pride. “No, indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not.”
“Doing some gardening again are we, Master Gamgee?” Gandalf asked with a pointed look in his eyes.
Sam looked down at his feet awkwardly. Nyx smiled.
From the other end, someone shouted. “Oi! Wait! We’re coming too!”
Nyx bit back her laughter at Elrond’s expression as the two cousins rushed to stand beside Frodo as well.
“You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!” Merry insisted.
“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing.”
Merry looked at Pippin. “Well, that rules you out, Pip.”
Pippin looked offended. Frodo turned around to look at Nyx, who was standing separate from the group.
“What about you, Nyx? Will you come with me?”
“You want me to?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Aragorn said. “We could use a dragon in our company.”
Nyx smiled. For once, the name she’d been given wasn’t be used in anger or fear. “Then you shall have her.”
“Ten companions. So be it,” Elrond announced. “You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”
Part 1.9 ➺
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Eomer: Stop saying "I wish" and start saying "I will."
Faramir: I will my father loved me.
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catchawishing-star · 13 hours ago
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But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
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rastronomicals · 15 hours ago
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10:12 AM EDT May 5, 2021:
King Crimson - "Thela Hun Ginjeet" From the bootleg   Fripp's Return at the Court of the Crimson King (Recorded October 9, 1981)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
Recorded at The Venue, London UK, and clearly an audience recording. The show was released by the bootleggers complete as a CD, and also as a set of three 7" 33-1/3 RPM singles, entitled Act 1, Act 2, and Act 3
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tru-daddy · a day ago
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OH WAIT HOLY SHIT TUMBLR SUPPORT ACTUALLY CAME IN CLUTCH FOR ONCE IM BACK POG
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mothbon3s · a day ago
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Song lyrics can really get ya thinking weird concepts
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alystraea · a day ago
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The Death of Arwen
'But Arwen went forth from the House, and the light of her eyes was quenched, and it seemed to her people that she had become cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Then she said farewell to Eldarion, and to her daughters, and to all whom she had loved; and she went out from the city of Minas Tirith and passed away to the land of Lórien, and dwelt there alone under the fading trees until winter came. Galadriel had passed away and Celeborn also was gone, and the land was silent.
'There at last when the mallorn-leaves were falling, but spring had not yet come, she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth; and there is her green grave, until the world is changed, and all the days of her life are utterly forgotten by men that come after, and elanor and niphredil bloom no more east of the Sea.
'Here ends this tale, as it has come to us from the South; and with the passing of Evenstar no more is said in this book of the days of old.'
(from “The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen”, LotR Appendices)
*************************************************
If like me you always found Arwen dying alone too unbearably sad, you may have imagined her bros Elladan and Elrohir with her at the end, or her grandfather, canon be damned.
Or... maybe this:
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fanfic under cut: 
Lothlorien, FA 121.
The Wanderer moves like a shadow beneath golden-leaved boughs of mellyrn. His feet have walked the length and breadth of Ennor, but never in the days of Nenya's power did he enter these woods. Only in the last few decades, long after it has lain abandoned by the galadhrim, has he wintered here. The trees of gold awaken memories of Tirion. Each winter he comes, he sees evidence of the fading… the leaves more sparse, the gold less bright… He approaches a great mound at the heart of the woods, with its two circles of trees, white and gold. Even from afar he senses that he is not alone… senses the faint light of a life slowly ebbing away.
She is as a shadow herself, as she lies at the foot of the greatest mallorn at the center of the mound. She is pale as death, and lines of mortality and grief have in the past few months etched themselves upon the face that once was fairest. But still, he knows her. He approaches silently. Kneels near her. He has sung naught but grief and lamentation for millennia. But now, ever so softly, from his lips lilts a tune he heard a maiden sing in the springtime of her life. And her grey eyes slowly open. They are dim, unfocused, and search awhile before they find him. 
"You," she whispers in Sindarin, her voice barely audible. "I know you."
He is intimate with such despair and loneliness. Such sorrow. "Daughter, how may I help you?" he asks gently.
"…Will you… sing…?"
He takes her hand as it lies on the still-green grass. It is cold, so cold, thin and frail, the bones like a bird's beneath flesh grown loose. Her fingers tighten ever so slightly on his.
He stays by her side throughout the winter, through sun and rain, and for her he lays aside his songs of woe. From his lips come all the songs of childhood he once sang to a young pair of twins. He hears the clash of swords in the Havens, remembers the nightmares that woke them—and him—in the nights. He remembers the feel of small bodies pressed against his as he awakens to find they have crawled yet again into his bed, fearful of monsters in their own room. How innocent they had been of the true monster that he was, fair of face but black of soul. How touchingly they had gripped his hand for comfort, that had shed the blood of their kindred. As he sings the old, familiar songs he remembers yet other children. His younger brothers as he sang to them. Himself, as his mother sang to him. He would have wept for the loss and doom of all those children, but he has no tears left to shed.
The nights are cold. He takes a cloak from the oiled-leather pack, the parting gift the elves of Imladris had left for him ere they departed, that one of the peredhel twins had contributed to it. The wanderer now lays the new dark-grey cloak over Arwen.
She speaks only once more, as the first buds appear on the mellyrn, and leaves of gold begin to fall. He barely makes out the words.
 "Estel… tolen*…"
Her face in death is young and radiant, all lines of grief smoothed away.
He buries her where she lies, her brother's cloak her shroud. He raises a shallow mound of earth over her, and scatters early-blooming niphredil over the grave. He then finds a grey stone, and with his blade he takes his time to chisel letters upon it. As he does so, he remembers his mother's hands on his as she had taught him, his hands almost too small then to hold the tools.
Golden leaves fall in the empty woods as spring comes. They flutter onto the mound and upon the stone he has left to mark the grave.
She was neither Queen nor Evenstar of her people to him, so on the grey stone the wanderer has chiseled, in the ancient classical mode of Tengwar:
Arwen Elrondiel.
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(*tolen: “I come”)
(from Ch 35 “Tapestry of Three Worlds” in The Golden and the Black https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289005/chapters/12208913)
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ladyhelsea · 2 days ago
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Eowyn Strikes | Lord of the Rings | Timelapse Charcoal Drawing
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eeddis · 2 days ago
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yeah I’m probably gonna make more of these. inspired by that one meme about the Bolton Strid.
[Image description: two pictures of the official Queen’s Thief art by Emily B. Martin.  The one on the left is Eugenides and the one on the right is Costis.  Both have added text.  For Eugenides, there is large text on the top and bottom saying “I am a terrifyingly competent assassin” and “I orchestrated the fall of a barony as a belated wedding gift”.  On top of those in smaller text, are the words “come closer I am just a figurehead” and “I’m so helpless I only have one hand :(”.  Costis has the same format, with “I punched my king in the face” and “Sometimes my god possesses me and I start snapping necks” in the background and “I am a normal Attolian guardsman” and “I am definitely just some dude” in the foreground.]
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maaaddiexo · 2 days ago
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The Within Series | Legolas Greenleaf
Book 1: The Devil Within - 1.7
Mainlist | Serieslist
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Nyx of Tyndall does not know love or kindness. Cursed at a young age by a jealous witch, Nyx has lived a life of solitude and death.
Until Gandalf the Grey requests her presence and uncontrollable skill in assisting a young Hobbit across Middle-Earth with nine others to destroy a ring so powerful all fall victim to its evil.
Not only must Nyx face Orcs, demons, and creatures she’s never seen before, but also the devil inside. Controlling the devil is the key to finding freedom in a spell that can’t be broken. But it will not be so easy for Nyx when every obstacle she faces pushes her to an edge she cannot return from.
Chapter Seven
Nyx had spent what felt like hours telling Lord Elrond what had transpired all those years ago in the Goblin caves and as recently as the past few days.
The Ring has awoken.
Sauron lives.
It was three days later when Strider and the Hobbits arrived and another two when Gandalf arrived. He apologized to the Hobbits and Nyx for abandoning them, filling them in on his time as Saruman’s prisoner. It was a shock for Elrond and Nyx to hear that the White Wizard had fallen to the seduction of evil.
One morning, Nyx had watched in curiosity as Rivendell messengers left at dawn for lands far and wide. She did not know why so many had left, but she knew it could not be good.
Nyx turned away and back to her room. The Hobbits had all been given their own rooms upon arriving, but Nyx knew they all ended up in the same bed every night. She had also learned of Strider’s true identity. A born-to-be King who did not want the throne.
“All power has ever done is corrupt and chain men,” Aragorn had said one evening.
“Power does not do that to just men,” Nyx had replied. The scar on her cheek burned and she touched it gently.
A blood curse cannot be broken.
Sam knocked on the doorframe of Nyx’s room. “He’s awake Lady Nyx.”
Nyx smiled and grabbed her cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders before following Sam to Frodo’s room. He was being helped into a vest when they arrived and Nyx smiled as Frodo’s face filled with glee at the sight of Nyx.
“Nyx!” The young girl bent down and wrapped her arms around Frodo, hugging him tightly.
“I am so glad you’re okay, Frodo.”
They pulled away. “Me too. Sam told me what you risked for me. Thank you, Nyx. For taking the Ring.”
Nyx smiled. “I do not know how you carry it. It is so heavy. But I will continue to carry it for you until you are better.”
Frodo smiled. “Thank you, Nyx. But I can take it. I think am strong enough.”
Nyx smiled and pulled off the chain and reclasped it around Frodo’s neck. “The strongest of us all. Now, shall we go find the others?”
Sam and Nyx led Frodo through the halls and corridors of Rivendell, letting him take his time in exploring the Elven town. It was fall and the leaves were slowly changing from a bright green to a warm orange.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I came here when I was a little girl,” Nyx admitted to the two boys. “I thought it was a palace. It was built thousands of years ago and has stood ever since. Well, except for that gazebo.” Nyx pointed to a gazebo below with a rounded top and a spike on top. “I burnt down the one that stood before it when Lord Elrond told me I couldn’t have dinner early.”
Frodo and Sam giggled at Nyx’s confession and they continued walking, stopping short when the other two hobbits barrelled into Sam and Frodo. Nyx, who had already reunited with the two, stepped away and climbed the stairs to where Elrond and Gandalf stood.
“How is he?” Elrond wondered.
“Happy,” Nyx replied. “He has the Ring again, but it doesn’t seem to bother him like it did before. Perhaps because he knows he will not have to hold onto it much longer.”
Elrond and Gandalf shared a look. “About that…”
⍥⍥⍥
“What do you mean the Ring cannot stay in Rivendell?” Nyx shouted angrily. The candles beside her lit on their own, flickering angrily.
“The Elves cannot hide its power, nor can we protect it against Isengard and Mordor. I have called a Council. This peril belongs to all Middle-Earth. It is only fair they have a say in what is done with it.”
A horn was blown below, and Nyx rushed with Gandalf to the balcony, sparing one last angry glare at Lord Elrond. She watched as horse after horse galloped into the courtyard. First, a Man with shoulder-length brown hair, a shield on his back, and flag around his horse’s neck.
Second, an elf with long silver hair braided back elegantly, pointed ears, a flowing cape, and bow on his back. An Elf, Nyx surmised. Though, not one from Rivendell. His beauty enraptured Nyx for all elves were ethereal, but this one’s silver eyes were intriguing, full of wonder. His eyes caught hers for a moment before she was drawn to two more incoming Elves behind him. Then came the Dwarves.
One had wild grey-white hair and a long beard, while the other was entrenched in leather armour with faux scales, and his long red beard had been braided in a traditional Dwarvish style. He rested on his axe patiently.
“With Frodo awake, we must decide now how to end it.”
Nyx spared one last glance at the Elf below before turning back to Elrond with daggers in her eyes. The end of her dress had begun to smoke. “It seems like you’ve already made a decision.”
“Nyx? Where are you going?”
“For some bloody air.”
“Be careful where you walk, my dear,” Gandalf warned calmly. “Your dress is on fire.”
Part 1.8 ➺
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