Silveria joins the battle for the lonely mountain and shows that not all dragons are evil and that even tho a dark lord creates them, it doesn't mean they'll serve him. She reunites with some she never thought would be friends and flys to the silver...
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Gandalf and Elrond watch Frodo and Sam from the balcony in Elrond's study. Silveria is with them, In her elven form. She's dressed in Rivendell robes even tho she's not in front there. Elrond wanted her to have them. "His strength returns." Elrond sates. "That wound will never fully heal. He will carry it the rest of his life." You say, your eyes dimmed slightly. "And yet to have come so far, still bearing the Ring, the hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to its evil," Elrond says and goes a little away from you and the gray wizard.
"It is a burden he should never have had to bear. We can ask no more of Frodo." Gandalf says, and you and he look at Elrond. "Gandalf, the enemy is moving. Sauron's forces are massing in the east — his eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Saruman, you tell me, has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin." Elrond says, his tone serious. "His treachery runs deeper than you know. By foul craft, Saruman has crossed Orcs with goblin-men; he's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. An army that can move in sunlight and cover great distances at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring." Gandalf says and turns entirely to face the elven lord.
You stand still and watch the little hobbit you've grown to adore. You're like a mother for the little one. Being a timeless creature, you've encountered many things, good and bad. You have more information wisdom than any of the animals in middle earth. But you seldom use it. Only when it can help others. Elrond's voice breaks you out of your thoughts. "The power of the Elves cannot conceal this evil. We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard!" He exclaims in an angry tone.
Gandalf moves away, deep in thought. Elrond speaks in a softer tone. "Gandalf, the Ring cannot stay here." Gandalf stands at Elrond's window, beside you. You two look out and see a group of new arrivals in the garden. A man, an Elf and companions, and a party of Dwarves all dismount and stare around in wonder.
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"This peril belongs to all Middle-Earth. They must decide now how to end it." Elrond starts. "The time of the Elves is over — my people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The Dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches — they care nothing for the troubles of others." He ends. You and Gandalf turn to face him. Gandalf says lowly, and a flash of understanding glints in your eyes. "It is in Men that we must place our hope." Elrond looks confused or more disbelieved.
"Men? Men are weak." Elrond wanders through his house as Gandalf, and you follow. It is a beautiful house, full of wooden paneling and ancient statues and artifacts. "The race of Men is failing. The blood of Númenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because Men the Ring survives. I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago...."
Flashback to Isildur slicing the Ring off Sauron's hand and holding up the Ring. "... when Isildur took the Ring. I was there the day the strength of Men failed." Elrond and Isildur stand on the slopes of Mount Doom. The volcano roars and gushes fire above them. "Isildur — hurry. Follow me." Elrond says. "I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom, where the Ring was forged, the one place it could be destroyed." Elrond stands near the cracks of Doom, on the same spot where Sauron first held up the One Ring in triumph.
"Cast it into the fire!" The elven lord exclaims. Isildur looks at the Ring in his hand. The Ring whispers to him. "Destroy it!" Elrond calls. But the face of the high king darkness. "No." He says and walks away. "Isildur!" Elrond calls after him. "It should've ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure."
-Flashback end-
"Isildur kept the Ring. The line of kings is broken. There is no strength left in the world of Men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless." Elrond says. Now you speak up, your eyes glinting with hope. "There is one who could unite them, one who could reclaim the throne of Gondor." You say. Elrond looks long at you before he speaks. "He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile." You look him in the eyes, your depths telling otherwise.
➳
The evening has fallen. Strider is seated on the terrace, reading a book. Footsteps echo on the stone floor. The man who arrived earlier enters and pauses in front of a battle-piece of Isildur, with a broken sword raised against Sauron. He regards the painting intently, then, conscious of another presence, turns and sees Strider. "You are no Elf!" He exclaims. "The Men of the South are welcome here," Strider replies calmly. "Who are you?" The man asks. "I am a friend to Gandalf the Grey." The heir says, being his usual secret self.
"Then we are here on a common purpose..." the man says, then smiles. "friend." The Man seems puzzled by Strider's reluctance to reveal his identity but smiles again good-naturedly and turns to the Lady's shrine opposite the wall painting. He sees the broken sword lying there. He picks up the haft, shifting it in his hand, testing its weight and feel as a warrior would, and stares at the blade. "The shards of Narsil! The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand!" He exclaims. He runs his finger up the sword and cuts himself.
"It's still sharp!" He says and drives his finger back. What he doesn't know is that you're sitting in the shadows, listening. The man of Gondor shan't see you yet, not before the council. The man turns to look at Strider, who is watching him. "But no more than a broken heirloom!" He says and returns the sword carelessly, and it clatters to the ground. He hesitates then walks away. Strider gets up and walks to the shrine. He picks up the dropped haft and carefully places it with the other shards. He takes a step back and touches his right hand to his heart as he looks at the statue of the Lady.
Your walk-in behind him. "Why do you fear the past? You are Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate." You say. "The same blood flows in my veins. The same weakness." He returns. You're not fond of this man yet, but you're a friend; therefore, a deed like this is meaningful. "Your time will come. You will face the same evil, and you will defeat it," you say and disappears, but before that, you place a hand on his shoulder. Strider is left puzzled but knows you speak the truth. You're mysterious and kind. He will find out your purpose.
