Sylas returned to Osgiliath with a relieved sigh.
He had felt it, a surge of terrifying power erupting from Mordor, streaking toward Minas Morgul. It could only be Sauron himself reacting to the destruction. Realizing that staying even a second longer meant courting death, Sylas had immediately teleported away.
There was no shame in retreating from an unwinnable fight, especially when the opponent was Sauron.
Still, he couldn't help but grin. Not only had he completed his check-in, but he had also obliterated Minas Morgul. Without that fortress, Mordor had lost one of its most critical outposts, the gateway through which it had long terrorized Gondor.
When Sylas appeared, Arwen rushed forward, eyes full of worry. "Sylas, are you hurt?"
He shook his head, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "I'm fine. It's Mordor that's not. I burned Minas Morgul to the ground. Sauron won't be sending his armies west anytime soon. He's probably tearing down Barad-dûr in rage right now."
And there was more, he had gained another reward from his sign-in at Minas Morgul: the blueprint for the Room of Requirement.
From Osgiliath, the burning fortress could still be seen faintly in the distance, its flames devouring the night.
When Sylas informed the city's commander of what he had done, the man was stunned at first, then broke into ecstatic laughter. He immediately sent riders racing to Minas Tirith with the news.
For decades, Gondor had suffered under the shadow of Minas Morgul. With it gone, they could finally breathe easier. No more armies pouring from that cursed valley. No more endless sieges.
After polite farewells and turning down the general's insistent pleas to stay, Sylas and Arwen departed once more.
Their carriage followed the Great North Road, reaching the border between Gondor and Rohan.
There stood the Argonath, two colossal statues carved into the cliffs, Isildur and Anárion, the first Kings of Gondor, each raising a left hand in warning to all who came from the north.
Here, Sylas performed another check-in and obtained the method for creating the Two-Way Mirror.
Crossing the Anduin, they entered Rohan, following the great river northward.
They soon reached the confluence of the Entwash and the Anduin, where seven silver tributaries fanned across the plains. When the river became too wide to cross, the Pegasus spread its hidden wings, lifting the carriage in a low glide over the sparkling waters, a breathtaking sight.
Following the river upstream, they reached the Falls of Rauros.
The Anduin plunged a thousand meters from the Emyn Muil cliffs, roaring into a misty gorge below. Even from afar, the thunder of the water filled the air.
Sylas and Arwen stopped at the base of the falls, marveling at the immense power of nature. The mist caught the sunlight, forming a vast rainbow bridge across the chasm.
From there, they ascended to Nen Hithoel, the Lake of Mist, where the river widened once more. They parked their carriage on the emerald meadow of Parth Galen, overlooking the tranquil lake veiled in silver fog.
As they studied the treasures of their journey, Sylas couldn't help recalling a solemn memory of the future, the place where Boromir, son of Denethor, would one day fall defending the Hobbits.
And where three heroes, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, would set him adrift on an Elven boat, his body carried by the current over Rauros Falls.
/
However, due to the unparalleled shipbuilding craft of the Elves, Boromir's funeral boat did not sink beneath the roaring Falls of Rauros. Instead, it sailed miraculously over the cascade, carried onward by the river until it reached the sea.
In the lower reaches of the Anduin, his brother Faramir saw that small boat drifting solemnly past, his fallen brother's body still upright, sword upon his lap, borne by the waters like a final benediction.
Boromir's father was Denethor II. His eldest son's death struck him like a mortal wound, and grief clouded his judgment. When Faramir was later brought back grievously injured, Denethor's despair consumed him, and he chose to end his life upon a pyre, unable to bear the loss.
After spending half a day beside the Misty Lake, Sylas and Arwen continued their journey.
The Pegasus spread its wings once more, pulling their carriage in a smooth glide low over the river gorge until they reached Sarn Gebir.
The Sindarin name meant "Stone Spikes." This perilous stretch of rapids ran for several miles, filled with jagged rocks jutting from the water like fangs. The current roared with such force that no boat, by day or night, could pass safely through.
Flying over the Sarn Gebir rapids, Sylas guided the Pegasus northward along the Brown Lands, on the eastern side of the Anduin River.
The scenery turned bleak and vast, a land stripped of life, stretching endlessly under the sun.
Long ago, this had been a rich and fertile country. In the ancient days when Morgoth's shadow darkened the north, the Entwives, the female Ents, had crossed the Anduin to till gardens and raise fields here.
After Morgoth's fall, the land flourished even more. During the growing seasons, the Ents would cross the river to meet the Entwives, and the land was filled with beauty and song.
But at the end of the Second Age, during the War of the Last Alliance, Sauron scorched this land to halt the advance of the Alliance's armies. His hordes burned everything, fields, trees, and villages, leaving behind only ash and ruin. From that day forth, it was called the Brown Lands.
For more than three thousand years, no living creature had returned to cultivate it. The Entwives vanished without a trace, leaving the male Ents alone in their endless search, their race unable to continue.
As Arwen softly recounted this tale, Sylas gazed out over the barren expanse, his heart heavy with pity.
"Sauron truly left nothing untouched," he murmured. "To think such beauty was turned to dust… this plain could have fed thousands."
Crossing the desolation, they finally reached the southern edge of Mirkwood.
From there, it was only a short journey west across the Anduin to Lothlórien.
There, Celeborn and Lady Galadriel welcomed them warmly. It was Sylas and Arwen's first visit since their marriage, and the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood held a grand feast in their honor. All of Lothlórien gathered to celebrate.
Arwen, once a long-time resident of Lothlórien, was quickly surrounded by old friends. Beautiful Elven maidens clustered around her, eager to hear tales of her travels. As she described the wonders she had seen, the shining cities, roaring falls, and endless plains, their eyes sparkled with longing.
Meanwhile, Sylas spoke with Celeborn about the state of Middle-earth. When he mentioned having burned Minas Morgul, Celeborn nodded approvingly.
"Gondor stands as the bulwark of the West," Celeborn said gravely. "By destroying that fortress, you have weakened the Shadow and eased the burden upon Men. Sauron will not recover quickly from such a wound."