With the Ents' solemn blessing granted, Kaen Eowenríel did not at once send word to the Avari. For he knew that such a count of elves would take nearly a year to journey westward from the distant shores of Rhûn to the shadowed heart of Fangorn. Such a vast migration would not go unseen. Sauron's gaze would fall upon it, as surely as night follows dusk.
The Avari had no hosts of steel nor towers of stone. Against the blades of darkness, their spears of bone and bows of horn would shatter like dry reeds. Kaen understood: if these Elves were to survive the crossing, he must prepare the way, shield them, not with armies alone, but with alliances.
This, then, was not his burden alone. The westward march of the Avari would reshape the strength of all free peoples of Middle-earth. And so Kaen resolved to summon a council — a great assembly of realms — that kings, lords, and wise ones might speak together of this new age that stirred beneath the surface of the world.
...
Leaving Fangorn behind, Kaen retraced his course northward. He lingered briefly in Lothlórien, where the golden leaves drifted down like sunlight turned to gold, and there he found Arwen Undómiel. Together they journeyed north, crossing the High Pass before the snows of winter could seal it.
By the year's turning, they came at last to Rivendell — Imladris, the Hidden Vale — beneath the pale shimmer of the blessed Tree's lights. Since the day the light of the divine Tree had first graced it, Rivendell had grown from refuge into a beacon — a place of song, philosophy, and quiet wisdom, where the poets of many lands gathered to weave the lore of a gentler world.
Kaen sat with Lord Elrond in his high chamber and told him of Aragorn's departure. The ancient Elf-lord listened, sighed softly, and said, "Fate is woven by higher powers, but oft it is chosen by men. We cannot walk that child's path for him. What remains lies in his own hands."
Kaen inclined his head in silent accord.
Then he spoke of graver tidings: of the Avari who would seek the shelter of Fangorn's green halls, and of the coming of the Elves of Aman, one-third of that immortal host, who, according to the Lord of Waters, would soon voyage eastward to Middle-earth once more.
"In Lothlórien," Kaen said, "Ulmo himself appeared to Arwen and me, his voice carried upon the mists of the river. It was he who told us this."
Arwen added softly, "This is no small matter. Kaen feels, and I too, that a new Age approaches, one greater even than the elder days. The free peoples will prosper again, and all the races will rise together. Yet it is a time that must be shaped with care. We have told no one until now."
Elrond was silent for a long while. Then, with a weary smile, he said, "You two bring tidings that would make the Valar themselves stir in thought, and yet you lay all their weight upon me."
Kaen smiled faintly. "My Teacher, we came because you alone can summon the lords of every realm. You are the heart of wisdom between Elf, Man, and Dwarf. This council must be held beneath your banner."
But Elrond shook his head slowly. "Ah, child, you think too simply. Against the Shadow, yes, all may unite in hatred and fear. But before the question of power and gain, the free peoples ever fall to division.
"The North will heed you, your name alone commands their loyalty. But the South… Gondor, Rohan, and the realms beyond, they may not see as you do.
"Fangorn is vast, larger even than Lothlórien. The Ents live apart, and their peace with Rohan stands on that silence. But should the Avari come — half a million Elves founding a new realm — the southern kings will not sleep easily.
"And those who come from Aman…" Elrond's voice softened. "I have seen the Elves of the West. They are fair beyond measure — wise, yes, but proud beyond bearing. They will not easily bow to those who remained in Middle-earth. And when they come, they will settle upon lands still held by Men, the ancient North of Arnor. What then becomes of the Dúnedain who remain? Shall they yield their birthright and go south?"
He looked toward the western window, where the evening star glowed faintly above the hills. "This will shake the very foundations of Middle-earth. Kingdoms will fall from pride, and the great will rage against the rising of the new."
Kaen was silent, his hands clasped. He had foreseen much of this and yet hearing it aloud felt like a weight pressing upon his heart. For a time, even his vision seemed clouded.
But in that stillness, he found his resolve again. He lifted his gaze and said:
"My Lord, I know these conflicts cannot be undone. The roots of mistrust lie deep, sown by Morgoth in the world's first dawn. But perhaps the answer is not to silence them, but to teach them to live with one another, to step aside, to bend, to yield when pride would destroy.
"The wheel of the Age turns ever forward. No nation, no race can stand alone against it. Only those who adapt — who compromise — will endure."
He rose to his feet, the light of the Trees shimmering faintly about his form. "I have met King Thengel of Rohan — a wise ruler. I have spoken with Ecthelion II of Gondor — no fool nor tyrant. When the moment comes, they will choose rightly, I believe."
His gaze turned westward, beyond the mountains, toward the sea. "As for the Elves of Aman…"
A radiance flared about him, calm yet terrible. "We shall give them land to build their new homes. But if any come in arrogance, believing themselves gods over Middle-earth, they shall not set one foot upon these shores. I will go to the very seas myself to speak with them, and the sea will bear my words."
At that moment, another voice joined the air — soft, clear, and ringing like silver.
"Then I shall go with you."
It was Glorfindel, far away upon the snow-clad peaks, guarding the Silver Tree of Eowenría. The power of the Trees carried his voice across the world, a sign of his pledge.
Elrond closed his eyes, and though worry remained, there was warmth within it.
At length he sighed. "I know not if this path leads to salvation or ruin. Yet you are right, Kaen, the wheel of the Age cannot be stayed.
"May your light, and the light of the Trees, drive back the darkness. I will stand beside you, to guard what hope remains."
He rose then, tall and grave, and clasped Kaen's arm. "I shall call the Council of Realms — by my name and by Rivendell's bond. The lords of Elves, Men, and Dwarves will gather here."
Then, with quiet eyes, Elrond said, "You speak of freedom as though you are beyond fate's reach, and perhaps you are. Yet even that is a kind of fate, Kaen Eowenríel. For every road you take, you carve with your own hand, and its end none may walk but you.
"I fear for you, my child," he murmured, voice heavy with love and foreboding. "For I love you as my own, and no light, however bright, walks forever without shadow."
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