Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Epilogue: Answers

Aderthon stood atop the first gate of Minas Tirith, watching as the last rays of the sun filled the twilight sky. The sun had fallen behind the tips of the mountains, yet still Arien’s light radiated through to the darkness of the east. A quiet, summer breeze blew his  brown hair across his face. The tips tickled his cheek and he brushed them away. The crimson cloak he wore billowed behind him. Aderthon scanned the horizon, letting his gaze land on Osgiliath at the river. He knew Emyn Arnen and Amon Loth lay beyond that, and further then to the sea.

A quick glance at the ever present ring on his right hand reminded him that he could never make the voyage his heart seemed to long for these days. Not that he would leave Eldarion behind yet. But his mother and father were now forever sundered from him. A tiny, rueful smile crossed his face. For it seemed fate had determined to strand Fëanor's line in Middle Earth yet again, or one of them at the least.

He felt rather than saw when Eldarion and Nimwing came beside him. Nimwing placed her gentle hand in his, saying nothing, while Eldarion stood to his other side. The maiden tightened her grip on Aderthon’s hand. The two had grown ever closer since the battle many months ago, and he was quite sure he loved her. And his love of Eldarion as a brother was well known far and wide.

“Has Akilina found anything more since she returned?” Aderthon asked quietly, still watching the horizon. “I was busy with Faerval and Hweston and could not meet her today.”

Eldarion sighed and shook his head. “We keep returning to the same half guess. There is only one place that still remains in Middle Earth that might actually be accessible. But even that is uncertain.”

“Utumno,” Aderthon groaned with a nod. “Is that the best we have? The destroyed fortress of Morgoth?”

Nimwing nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder, her hair mixing with his in the breeze. “It is better than having no hope at all. Perhaps that accursed place is still in the East.”

“We do not even know where to look, other than past Rhûn,” Aderthon reminded them. “And it might not even exist anymore!”

They fell quiet. He spoke correctly, and yet Utumno remained their only hope. Its location remained lost to those west of the Red Mountains. There seemed to be but one course: set out east and hope the Valar would aid them. Yet Aderthon spoke correctly. It could've sunk beneath the waves with the sinking of Numenor and sundering of the lands. They simply did not know.

And so the three companions watched the coming and going of the merchants and farmers. A few dwarves walked through the gate, visitors from the Lonely Mountain, or Aglarond, or even the Iron Hills. Men of Dale and Rohan chatted together as they entered, and a family of farmers left to return home to their house on the Pelennor.

Suddenly Aderthon’s attention was drawn to a newcomer. “Who is that?”

They looked where he gestured. The figure in question stood tall atop a black steed. His hair, going to about halfway down his chest, was a red-golden color. He dressed in blacks, greys, and oranges and several large packs adorned his horse.

“That is no elf I am familiar with,” Nimwing murmured. “Perhaps a visitor from Eryn Lasgalen, or the Havens?”

“Perhaps,” he muttered in reply.

But Eldarion and he both felt something different about this elf. Aderthon led the way down from the gatehouse and as the elf rode through the gates, they watched him from the side. The rider stopped at the entrance, looking around almost critically. His gaze darted too and fro, taking in the city. But soon he looked hard at the three companions. He smiled and dismounted.

“Prince Eldarion, Lord Aderthon.” He bowed his head to them. “I am Eglanor. And I have come to be your guide.”

“Our what?” Eldarion asked in confusion.

“Your guide,” Eglanor repeated. “But come now, let us go see your father. I do believe he and you will be interested in what I have to say. Word of your plight, Lord Aderthon, has gone far and wide!”

Aderthon’s face went white. “You have answers, then?”

“Yes, I do.” Eglanor gestured for them to walk ahead. “Now I suggest we move quickly. It is almost dinner, and I cannot wait to meet King Elessar.”

Nimwing frowned slightly, but she followed both the prince and her beloved up the streets. They walked in silence, dodging townsfolk here and there. But soon enough they reached the Citadel, and had Eglanor leave his horse with a servant.

Eglanor's eyes hungrily glanced around the Citadel's entrance. When the doors opened he walked inside right behind the cousins and before Nimwing. They found Aragorn and Arwen talking with Elboron.

“Father,” Eldarion began, closing the distance quickly. “A visitor has arrived, an elf claiming to have the answers we seek for Aderthon!”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow in surprise and looked over at Eglanor, Aderthon, and Nimwing. He saw the light shining in the face of the new elf and knew instantly he was one who had seen the Blessed Realm. This put the King at ease.

“Welcome,” Aragorn smiled. “What is your name, my good elf?”

“Eglanor.” He bowed his head to the king, queen, a son of the Steward.

“Welcome, Eglanor. Is what my son says true? Do you know anything of the Ring of Berúthiel?” Aragorn gestured for him to follow as the retired to a sitting area.

“That I do. It was one of Sauron’s rings.” Eglanor nodded. “I was there, you know, in those days. I came from Valinor with the Noldor, and stayed here to explore the vast lands of Arda.”

Aderthon smiled. “Then you know, perhaps, where to find Utumno?!”

“Indeed, young one.” Eglanor smirked. “Many years has it been since my services were needed. But I have traveled the Far East, across the Orocarni, past Cuivienen, where evil stirs that is not here in the West. It is a hard road.”

“And yet one I must take,” Aderthon quickly added. He looked to his king. “Shall we not hear more?”

Aragorn paused before nodding. “We will hear more. But first, Aderthon, find lodging for Eglanor among the guest houses. It is late, and I am sure he would like to eat and rest.”

“Thank you, Lord,” bowed the elf, standing.

Aderthon smiled and beckoned for Eglanor to follow him. They made their way to the sixth level, to an unoccupied guest house. Aderthon opened the door for him and Eglanor went inside.

“That ring is a precious thing,” Eglanor told him as he stood in the door way. “It is not easy to craft a ring of power. It is a pity it must be destroyed.”

“There is no other option,” Aderthon argued quickly. “And it is a craft of Sauron’s hand.”

Eglanor’s eyes gleamed. “Yes it is.” He paused and nodded. “I shall remain here until called for by the King tomorrow. Do not worry, Lord Aderthon. We will free you of that ring.”

Aderthon left Eglanor is higher spirits than he’d experienced in many weeks. The June breeze, blowing in the night air all around him, brought comfort instead of mockery. There was finally an answer. Finally some hope.

The End.

A/N: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'VE FINISHED Dreams of Power! GO YOU!

Book Five, Flight to the East, will be up soon, so keep and eye out for it.

As always, I appreciate hearing from you and knowing what you enjoyed and even didn't enjoy! Did the story go as you expected? Or did I throw you for a loop.

I want to first and foremost thank Professor Tolkien for being my inspiration and providing us in the fandom with endless amounts of fun. Second, I want to thank heraldofmanwe for his support while I wrote this, cowriting and planning a few more stories as we did so.

Here, I shall leave you with a song to tease Flight to the East!