The Silver Flame (LOTR)

Fire's Touch

Visenya stepped into Lord Elrond's study, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She had been in the company of many lords and kings, but there was something different about Elrond. His presence was both calming and intense, his sharp eyes revealing a wisdom that only the centuries could grant. As she stood before him, the soft candlelight flickering across the ancient tomes and scrolls that lined his shelves, she felt as though she was standing on the precipice of something much larger than herself.

Elrond gestured to a chair across from him, his eyes studying her with quiet fascination. "Please, take a seat, Visenya Stark. There is much to discuss."

Visenya nodded, lowering herself gracefully into the chair, her silver hair catching the light as she did. She clasped her hands in her lap, her mind already racing. She had been preparing herself for this conversation since she first stepped foot in Rivendell, but now that the moment had arrived, she wasn't sure where to begin.

Elrond sat across from her, his fingers steepled in thought. "I have heard many tales of your bravery, of your battles against the spiders in Mirkwood, and of the language you speak that none of us have heard in millennia." His voice was steady, but there was a subtle excitement beneath it, a genuine interest in her story. "Tell me, what is this world you come from? And how is it that you speak the language of Númenor?"

Visenya hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. But there was something about Elrond's steady gaze, something that told her she could trust him. She exhaled softly, her voice steady as she began.

"Where I come from, that language is called High Valyrian," she explained, her tone thoughtful. "It is the ancient tongue of my people, the Targaryens, who are said to be descended from dragons. The Targaryens ruled for centuries, until war and bloodshed brought down our dynasty."

Elrond's brow furrowed slightly, intrigued. "Descended from dragons?" he repeated, the words hanging in the air.

Visenya nodded, her gaze distant as she recalled the history she had lived through. "Yes. The Targaryens are believed to have the blood of dragons in their veins. We can bond with dragons, speak to them, and even command them. My dragon, Silverwing, was my closest companion, my most trusted ally. Together, we fought in battles, protected my people, and... survived things no mortal should."

Elrond's eyes sharpened at her words. "You fought in wars?"

Visenya's lips tightened into a thin line. "Many. I was Lady of the North, after I married Cregan Stark, and together we defended our people. There was a time of peace, but it never lasted long. There was always another battle, another enemy seeking to destroy what we had built."

Elrond nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "And you... you were old when you came here?"

Visenya nodded. "I lived a full life. I had children, all grown by the time I was brought here. My husband... my love, Cregan, died in my arms, an old man. And yet, I find myself here, younger than I should be, with my memories intact, but with the burden of a long life lived."

There was a heaviness in her voice that Elrond recognized—the weight of experience, of love and loss, of battles fought and won. It was a burden he understood all too well.

He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. "The Valar, our gods, have their ways of guiding us, even when we do not understand. I believe they sent you here, Visenya. Not by accident, but with purpose."

Visenya's eyes narrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Purpose?"

Elrond's expression darkened slightly, a shadow crossing his face. "An ancient darkness has resurfaced. A darkness that seeks to end the rule of mankind and plunge all of Middle-earth into shadow. We are at the brink of a great war, one that will determine the fate of all people—elves, men, and dwarves alike."

He paused, his gaze intense. "I believe the Valar sent you here to help us. Your knowledge, your skills... they may be the key to defeating this darkness."

Visenya remained silent for a moment, her mind racing as she absorbed his words. She had been in wars before, had faced down countless enemies, but this... this was different. This was a battle for the very soul of a world she barely knew.

"And what of my dragons?" she asked quietly. "Do you think the Valar sent me here because of my connection with them?"

Elrond's expression softened again, his curiosity returning. "Tell me more about your connection to the dragons. You say you are of dragon blood, but what does that mean?"

Visenya took a deep breath, her gaze steady as she spoke. "It is said that the Targaryens are not fully human. Our blood is mixed with that of the dragons, giving us abilities that other mortals do not possess. We can bond with dragons, command them, and, in some cases... we are impervious to fire."

Elrond's eyebrows rose in interest. "Impervious to fire?"

Visenya nodded. "There was a time when I was nearly burned alive... and yet, I survived. The flames could not touch me. It is a gift that some Targaryens possess, though not all."

Elrond leaned back in his chair, his mind clearly turning over this new information. "And do you think this gift remains with you, even here, in Middle-earth?"

Visenya hesitated. "I... I don't know. I haven't thought to test it."

Elrond's eyes flickered to the candle that burned softly on his desk, its small flame dancing in the low light. "Perhaps now is the time."

Visenya stared at the candle for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her mind. But then, without hesitation, she reached out, her fingers hovering over the flame. Slowly, she lowered her hand, until her palm rested directly in the fire.

Elrond watched, his breath catching slightly, expecting her to pull away in pain. But she didn't. The flame licked at her skin, but she remained untouched, unburned.

Visenya pulled her hand back, staring at it in awe. "I suppose I am still immune," she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. "I wonder what else I retained from my past life."

Elrond's eyes gleamed with a newfound certainty. "You were sent here for a reason, Visenya. There is no doubt in my mind now. You were meant to help us in this time of great need."

He rose from his chair and stepped toward the window, his gaze distant as he looked out over the valley of Rivendell. "We are assembling a council soon, to discuss how to deal with the evil that is rising. I would like for you to be a part of it. Your wisdom, your experience... they could be invaluable to us."

Visenya stood as well, her heart heavy with the weight of what Elrond was asking. "You believe I can help stop this darkness?"

Elrond turned to face her, his expression serious. "I do. The Valar do not send someone like you without purpose. You have the heart of a warrior and the blood of dragons. You are meant to fight this battle."

He offered her a small, reassuring smile. "In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here as our guest. My sons and daughter will be more than happy to show you around Rivendell. Consider this place your home, for as long as you need."

Visenya nodded, though her mind was already racing with thoughts of what was to come. A great battle was looming, and she had been sent here to play a role in it. What that role was, she didn't yet know, but one thing was certain.

She would not back down from the challenge.