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The White Council

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Walküre:
'The time has finally come', she said to herself. Henceforth, the Lady waited patiently for Glorfindel to finish his detailed report concerning the Rivendell's sentinels during their usual patrol along the border; it really seemed that no one had even slightly dared to enter this sacred territory until now, apart from sporadic intrusions of solitary packs of Orcs. She then stood up and began to address the White Council and everyone's eyes were thus on her only.

''Honourable wise members of this noble assembly and dear dignitaries of the few Elven settlements still remaining in this grey Middle-earth, I'm immensely grateful to any of you for having accepted the invitation of our host, who, after one of our long and wide-ranging talks, decided to summon us here, in the safe valley of Imladris. I assume even the furthest of you have certainly noticed the grim and threatening clouds that are approaching quickly all over the World. Wars waged from the edges of the known lands, shadows growing ever bolder in what once were places of light and joy, bitter resentment spreading among once friendly kingdoms, wounds from the obscure past that start getting again painful and more visible, hideous beasts coming out from their forgotten lairs and, finally, the inexorable Time which rusts flesh, iron, wood and the very spirit of all living beings. The secret arts in our knowledge continue to ensure our firm vigilance and still secure the chance to endure amidst Arda's turbulent events. But, I fear, we might be getting closer and closer to a major turning point for the existence of all. Sadly, this I can't perceive correctly, for not even the Powers beyond the Sea could foresee exactly what is to be. We thus should discern and examine in detail the actual facts we are presented.

My attention is currently and mainly focused on the happenings taking place at the eastern borders of my guarded realm: an unknown force, whose true nature I didn't manage to identify, seems to have set shadows in motion in the near vast Mirkwood. Dark entities of different shape and fashion have gathered around the eerie ruin of Amon Lanc and are now lurking about there in a watchful wait. My sight can't pierce yet the dark defences of what has now become known as Dol Guldur, but I sense for sure that who hides behind those walls daren't head out and contest me overtly yet. Left aside uncertainty, it's plainly clear that Black Magic has already took possession of these said territories, though we still need to make sure of the measure of its own magnitude and of the potential risk it might represent for the Free People. That forsaken hill appears to be a beacon of ill malice from its surroundings and maybe from further too; I know that Mithrandir has already investigated on that fortress many years ago and also adventured himself in its dungeons. We therefore have the proof of a precedent case in which unknown forces tried to infest this place; in that case, the entity fled immediately at the arrival of the Grey Pilgrim, even though we have no information about where it headed to afterwards. This erstwhile event confirms my worries about something evil being in development now, and voices circulating among Men residing in the vicinities speak about a Necromancer dwelling in Dol Guldur, presumptively deemed the founder of ghoulish magical cults that violate the natural order of life and death, who is progressively poisoning the air and the water of those woods. Others even claim him to be one of the Nine, disguised as a human sorcerer, intended to strengthen the lure of the Evil throughout those lands.''

Everyone was completely immersed in that narration and some were openly appalled by the words of Galadriel, knowing very well that those were words of truth. Elrond was following with great apprehension and Gandalf nodded multiple times as he acknowledged the pressing state of things. While the expression of Mirkwood's herald got much preoccupied, Saruman remained still in an unnatural quietness (although his complexion seemed a bit pale at times). She then went on with the last part of her heartfelt speech.

''The widespread destruction that the Second Age handed over to us as a terrible legacy to cope with was indeed the favourable scope for maintaining alternate centuries of peace, in spite of sorrowful conflicts in between each period of relative calmness. Nevertheless, may the words I brought to you today be words of caution: for even if the peril is not advancing in daylight, it's nonetheless doing so covertly and with deceitful intentions; for evil enemies shall always boast innumerable means and ways to widen their advantage. Beside setting out with a reasonable and resolved will to analyse every context carefully and not urging counter-productive actions due to impatience, it will be undoubtedly paramount to keep our guard well high and prepare for future initiatives. The wisest have in fact the legitimate onus to provide help to all the free inhabitants of Middle-earth and to withstand firmly any menaces, especially when the others' resolution falters or even fails completely. My heart tells me that we may succeed in uniting our efforts for a greater good and in a greater perspective, so that this White Council of the Wise may placate the present stormy waters of this disenchanted world and its legitimate chief, who is yet to be proclaimed, may lead us to a prosperous destiny of peace and safety. If our gentle host agrees, I would recommend dealing with the leadership of this mighty assembly in the meeting which is due to be held later today. May all of you, during your permanence here, be pleased and delighted by this holy sanctuary that resembles the solitary Eressëa so well.''

As she referred to the much loved West, she had a quick glimpse from the past, reminiscing her previous life upon the crystalline shores of Eldamar, among the diamond-like towers of Tirion and the evergreen fields of Valinor nourished by the mythical radiance of the Two Trees. She then sat down and the feeble light of the rising dawn reflected on her golden-silver hair, of which the legendary Fëanor had always longed to discover the true essence.

Dawn rises.

VectorMaximus:
Elrond gazed out upon the valley; the council had taken a recess, to meet again after the noon-day meal. Galadriel and Gandalf both it seemed counseled investigating into the darkness within Greenwood, whereas Saruman had been inclined to reinforce Rhovanian and Greenwood itself, focusing on reinforcing of borders, training, and other such actions.

He himself still did not know which was the more prudent course of action. For indeed, what could the Lord of the Noldor do? Much of the might of the Noldor had been spend in the war against Angmar, and though they slowly regained their strength, they were still greatly diminished. So not through strength of arms could his folk preserve the realms to the east of the mountains.

"You know" said a voice behind him "I'm pretty sure that when you become contemplative and melancholic the entire valley can feel it, my dear." He turned around and gazed upon his wife, Celebrian. He gave her a small smile in return as he walked over to her, taking her hand in his own.

"Forgive me my heart. I am simply tired of not knowing what to do." He gave her a rueful smile. "Wise as the wizards do men call me, but when there is no power to wield it, what good then is wisdom? For such is how I feel. I but wish I had the Great Alliance now; with which to push back the darkness but valour and force of arms." His eyes grew clouded, remembering ages past.

She snorted and gave him a look. "As I seem to recall, it was your wisdom and your words, not you valour or your strength in arms that convinced my Father to give you his blessing in our union. I have faith. Diplomacy, Council, Leadership, these have always been your strengths." Here she gave him a chiding smile. "It is true that our folk is weaker than they were in the past. So what then is the simplest and easiest task that we can start with? Then move unto the bigger tasks."

Here Elrond paused in their walk, putting his hand in his face as he mulled over the question. Thranduil's army was much larger than his own, though admittedly his own warriors were far superior (though never would he say that to the King of Greenwood's face). With the amount of warriors that he needed in Eriador to patrol the region and protect Imladris Proper, the number of warriors he could send would be negligible. However...

"Healers and Scholars I will send to Thranduil." He said to Celebrian, giving a small nod. "Our own healers are far more skilled than those of the Silvan, and our scholars; I will send the ones who are also skilled with a sword; to better understand their foes and how to better counter them." Here he frowned. He would have to bring this up with the herald, but he hoped that the Woodland Realm would accept his offer. However, Thranduil had ever been prideful, much as his father had been. And there was always a degree of hesitance in the Sindar/Silvan - Noldorin alliance.

"See that you do not sound condescending or pitying when offering this - as someone who grew up next to the Greenwood and interacted with them, it is something they loath above all else." She raised a hand to his lips before he could reply. "And before you reply my dear husband" here she raised an eyebrow "If over-great pride is the sin of the Silvan that I have learned, what I have learned from the Noldo is that you also are prideful, but more than that you are condescending even when you do not mean to be."

He sighed; he knew when he had lost and it was pointless to continue the fight. "I would not intentionally ever be such, but I shall be careful in my words and tone."

"If Elrond could mediate between Gil-Galad and Oropher then I believe he can put forward a proposal without offending the Silvan elves' sensibilities, my Lady" came a melodious voice with a short laugh. Spinning around, the pair spotted Glorfindel in simple blue and silver robes approaching them.

"Glorfindel, what brings you in search of us?" Elrond said, even as they resumed their walk, with elves nodding to them as they entered one of the more populated centers of the Valley.

"Cirdan was searching for you, Lord Elrond" he said, as they passed by Lindir, who had a look of utmost concentration on his face as he leaned over a piece of parchment. Perhaps a new composition.

"Indeed?" It was not that suprising, in all honesty - Cirdan was a dear mentor figure from his time in Lindon, and they also had to coordinate as the two leaders of the Noldor Realms (though nominally Elrond was the greater). And so a small smile appeared upon his face. "Where then was he, Glorfindel, for I would loathe to keep the Mariner waiting."

"Last I saw him he was in the Library, though he said he would go look for you in the main house in a short while. So I will go check the library, and if he is still there, I will send him to your study. I imagine that you will want privacy for the conversation to come."

"Indeed, and what of you Celebrian? Do you wish to join Cirdan and myself?" He turned to his wife, crossing over one of Rivendell's bridges.

"I will join you for a time, but then I think perhaps I shall go look for my mother." Elrond gave a nod in reply, unsurprised. Not often were there chances for the 2 to meet, for even in this time of peace, the Ladies of Lorien and Imladris rarely left their respective realms.

"Very well then. Shall we make our way to the study then?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow and offering his hand to his wife. Spying the retreating back of the Gondolin Elf Lord, he called out to him, "Glorfindel, if you desire, you may join us in Council with Cirdan" Glorfindel gave no signal of acknowledgement besides a single short nod, but that was enough.

Together the Lord and Lady of Imladris turned and began to walk to the great study. There was council between Lindon and Imladris to be held.

The_Necromancer0:
After Saruman left the council he made his way directly to the library, planning to resume his research as quickly as possible so as to be able to return to his dwelling. Once again he made his way to the great house which bore the Lore of Rivendell, mentally cursing any that would get on his way. He was especially fearful that Galadriel would try to probe his mind further, he would surely win the mental battle but this fight to protect his mind would strengthen their suspicions.

As he walked down the corridor his mind was searching the entirety of Imladris, locating the members of the council and any other that could be a problem for his research, making sure they were far away. Going up one last flight of stairs he finally arrived into the mighty library of Rivendell. The White Wizard quite liked his current dwelling, it had much of the lore he had built up and many ancient artefacts but Elrond's library had always been one of the placed he liked above all. It was well lit and well organised, the books were all classified depending on their topic and therefore finding what he needed should not be too complicated. A slight draft kept the guest cool even in the hottest days and the torches placed strategically kept the place as bright as day even at the darkest hour. Above all a sentiment of ease settled in all those that sat at the table. As he arrived by the entrance an Elf greeted him:
"Mae Goavannen, Lord Saruman. What can I help you with today?"
"Mae Goavannen," replied Saruman, although he had mastered Elvish his mind had never truly gotten used to the pronunciation and always sounded a bit harsher than that of the other Council Members. "I am looking for some books on the crafting of ancient metals, I need to look upon an ancient technique that has escaped my mind."
"Right this way, my Lord."
As he followed the elf Saruman continued to keep track of the council members, he felt Elrond in a deep discussion with other elves, he felt Gandalf talking to the Lady Galadriel and the other heralds discussing. All were busy, none should come to bother him.
"Here, my Lord, this is the section reserved to crafting of metals from all ages. Would you care to enjoy any refreshments?"
Saruman was for a moment tempted to "convince" the Elf to serve him that delicious brew of Númenor which he knew Elrond hid deep within the caves of Rivendell. It would have been a just revenge in exchange for forcing him to travel. However, in the end he decided against it, Elrond had been a galant host and the wine and food he had offered them was more than enough. Maybe another day...
"My Lord?"
"Forgive me, I was lost in my mind. Wine would be plenty, thank you." Hopefully Elrond had not felt his intention, knowing how much he loved his personal cave it would have been quite possible that he would feel the Wizard's brief fixation upon his precious, thought Saruman.

As the Elf departed, Saruman let his rod rest upon and extending his arms wide scanned the shelves, his mind going through the books and looking for the knowledge he sought. It was a much quicker procedure than endlessly looking through the titles of the books and Saruman much preferred it. Finding at last the book he sought he made it float towards him before turning around just in time before the elf returned with the wine. He sat down and opened the thick book before him, he was going to be at it for hours, hopefully nothing was going to bother him or they might very likely regret it...

Fine:
Shortly after the council's first session had ended, Gandalf was left behind, still sitting at the large round table, deep in thought. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the things to come, the words of Galadriel still echoing in his head. The council needed a leader, that was the Lady's suggestion. And when she spoke thus, he had felt her consciensce extend towards his, letting him know who her favoured canditate was. But the Grey Pilgrim thought otherwise. He did not deem himself fit nor worthy to lead. Gandalf had no experience in leadership, or giving commands. He remembered his mission, bestowed upon him by the Elder King, but the mantle of leadership of the Order was given to another, and he felt that Saruman should be the one to oversee the council as well. Wisdom and craftiness were required for this daunting task. Mithrandir did not doubt his own abilities and powers, but his concern was Middle-earth as a whole, not just the North and the West, and he meant to keep a caring eye on all peoples living in it, be they high and noble Elves, or a race like the hobbits, easly overlooked and seemingly unimportant.

As he strode through the gardens of Imladris, he came across two dark-haired men, standing near one of the smaller waterfalls, silently watching the sunlight's reflection upon the crystal clear water. Curious of their names and stories, Gandalf approached them and introduced himself.
"I am Gandalf the Grey," he said with a friendly smile. "What brings two men like you to Imladris?"
The elder of the two bowed his head in a gesture of respect. "My name is Arahad, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and this is my son, Aragost. We are here to join the Sons of Elrond, who will go on a great hunt to the far North, to Mount Gram, where Orcs are stirring."
"A noble quest," said Gandalf. "I wish you good fortune! May your eyes and ears be open and your swords strike swift and true!"
Arahad thanked him and departed, but his son stayed with Gandalf. He was young still, only thirty-two years in age, which was not alot for someone of his high lineage. Aragost seemed fascinated by the Wizard, asking him many questions about lands far away, but mostly about the great Realm of Men of the South, the Land of Stone: Gondor. Gandalf gave answers where he could, enjoying the refreshing company, and together they walked the gardens until they reached Elrond's house once more.
"Come," said Gandalf. "I would show you something."

They came to the spot where the shards of Narsíl were displayed.
"This is the blade of Elendil, your ancestor," said Gandalf.
"The blade that was broken!" gasped Aragost in awe. "I have not seen it before, even though I lived in this very valley for some time in my childhood."
"Your father bore it with him on his travels, as his forebears have done from time to time," explained the wizard. "And know this: the blade may be broken, but Elendil's line is not: still his heirs dwell hidden in the North, and that is one of the wonders of Isildur's line."
The two talked for some time, but eventually, Aragost was called away by his father. The time to ride forth had come. The young man said his goodbyes to Gandalf and went on his way.

Feeling refreshed, Mithrandir returned to the gardens where he intended to remain until the council's meeting was continued. His mind was more at ease than before, but still some doubt lingered. The peace of the hidden valley surrounded him and he stood silently beneath the trees, wondering about what was to come in the next hours and days.

Walküre:
''My daughter. My beloved daughter.''

A very emotional of a reunion it was. The Lady of Lórien put her arms gently around Elrond's spouse and kissed her daughter's forehead in the kindest of her ways. One would have certainly been surprised by such unusual display of affection between those royal Elves, yet the surprise would have rapidly turned into unbearable awe and extremely profound respect. The two had met in a quite secluded garden-shrine which was situated in the highest levels of the valley. No one else was present, nor any ill-intentioned or just inquisitive mind could have now perturbed that atmosphere of quiet jubilee. Galadriel had been searching for her dear kin since her own arrival, and she had eventually succeeded in perceiving her during the heartfelt moments of the meeting. Celebrían had been initially overcome by the sudden joy to see her mother again, after more than one century had passed since their last encounter within the sacred borders of Lothlórien. The Lady of Light was though focusing on addressing the other mighty guests about matters of the utmost relevance, and they had thus arranged for that isolated place to be the just location.

As time went by, the light of the early dawn increased its radiance and the morning sun was then ready to welcome all the gentle dwelling in Imladris, alongside the travellers that had been summoned there at the request of the Lord of Rivendell. Now that the mother and the daughter were hit by sunlight, everything was pervasively dominated by their stunning magnitude; but that result was more a sort of splendid mixture of different warm and bright colours, as if the less intense luminescence of Celebrían were merged with the ethereal presence of Galadriel (seeming to long for the advice and comfort of the mightier mother). Nature itself appeared to rejoice at the encounter, just like all leaves, plants, trees and forests rejoice at the Sun accordingly.

Some tears of pure happiness left quickly space to serious talks concerning what had happened in such long years, and Celebrían had so the right chance to share late thoughts of hers that troubled a bit the calmness of her mind deeply: a growing uncertainty that sometimes clouded her merry days beside his valiant husband and her splendid children. As words became much clearer than her thoughts, her mother feared that the ever progressive disenchantment of the mortal world might be one of the causes for that gleeful Elf-maiden to grow blue in time, even though she was trying to keep those shadows afar. An even more unpleasant perception was in the inviolable mind of the de facto Queen of the Elves. Akin to a disruptive lightning bolt, she sensed that her daughter's fate would maybe be determined by unexpected happenings; whose kind not often bodes well. But the very same thing could be easily said for all the ones that deem liberty and gentleness fundamental in the grey Middle-earth, and if dread or terror were to return again, all the Free People would equally face peril. Whether one be under the veil of Vilya or Nenya, remain safe deep in Dwarven caverns, isolated in the Woodland Realm's halls or defended within Gondor's solid stone, there is no way to escape completely what the future holds for each of us.

In light of everyone's common state amidst mortal burdens, she didn't let the obscurity of that eerie premonition to set the tone of that intimate visit. She then spoke to her daughter.

''My beloved Celebrían, you are the fair jewel of our kind, a precious gem of such purity and sincerity. The World is undergoing troublesome times recently, but worse challenges it might still have to cope with; this is the destiny of all who live on the other shores of the Belegaer. But you, my daughter, you have the love of your husband and your children, in this hidden Valley of sanctity. May you live still many years of joy that await ahead, bearing in mind that your family will always look at you in the most difficult times; being you here or in Lórien, this doesn't matter. Let sorrow be felt by those who truly bore the weight of dreadful events. You only deserve to fill your life with light and good.''

As Celebrían had desired this with great intensity, her mother told her that she would be more than free to visit Lórien whenever she would feel the need to do so. The Mallorn Trees were in fact renowned not only for hiding the dwellings of the Galadhrim, but also for shielding anyone inside that territory from every type of anxiety and dread; the Princess of Tirion could have also managed to fend even the most gruesome of the thoughts off her realm. Furthermore, the Lady of Light handed over to her a present from her father Celeborn: a necklace crafted on the fashion of the diamond-like blue jewels that the Sindar are used to wear. A true royal gift. Tears of renewed happiness covered Celebrían's face, and everything finished with a long and very affectionate embrace between the two.

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