Rivendell and Estel

Late at night, Allen lay near Thorin Oakenshield, unable to sleep.

He had been quietly watching Thorin Oakenshield, who was likewise sleepless, tossing and turning.

Earlier, Allen had spoken his mind in the cave without considering the consequences because he had no other choice.

The Dwarves Prince's aversion to Elves was simply too strong.

Now, Allen's intervention had already changed the plot considerably.

Radagast the Brown Wizard certainly would not be driving his wooden rabbit sled to Eriador again to bring Gandalf news of Dol Guldur.

Under Allen's influence, Gandalf had learned about it as early as last year.

Meanwhile, thanks to Allen's warning, the company was traveling much faster than it had in the film. The Warg Riders could not possibly catch up with them anytime soon.

Whether Gandalf could still find an opportunity to bring the entire company into Rivendell had therefore become uncertain.

Besides, if they did not enter Rivendell, they would soon reach the edge of the Misty Mountains, where their pace would undoubtedly slow considerably.

If the Warg Riders caught those dozen or so travelers in the mountains, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Allen was also worried about something else: his interference might truly prevent Thorin Oakenshield's map from ever being shown to Lord Elrond.

Who would decipher the information on the map then? Allen himself?

If that was how things turned out, Allen certainly would not tell Thorin Oakenshield now.

He did not want to do that with Gandalf around. It would draw far too much attention. A human could not possibly have enough time to acquire so much knowledge.

He would rather wait until Durin's Day and tell Thorin Oakenshield at the Lonely Mountain.

At least Gandalf would not be there then, and the Dwarves would not pay too much attention to such details.

Besides, Allen was reasonably confident that Thorin Oakenshield would agree to his proposal.

The Dwarves Prince was neither stupid nor out of his mind. Surely he knew he needed the Elves' help?

It was simply that Gandalf's constant insistence that "You need the Elves' help" had wounded his pride and left him no graceful way to back down.

With someone as fiercely proud as Thorin Oakenshield, pointing out his vulnerability directly was absolutely out of the question.

At the very least, he had to be allowed to retain his dignity. Otherwise, when Lord Elrond offered his invitation, Thorin Oakenshield could easily have taken the Dwarves and left.

But he had not. He had gone inside with the other Dwarves instead, which showed that all Thorin Oakenshield wanted was to save face. Give him a graceful way out, and he would take it.

So Allen had now offered him one: Thorin would not have to get involved himself. Allen and Gandalf would handle the information on the map.

This would preserve at least some of his dignity while allowing them to obtain the information they needed. It was the best solution Allen could think of.

If Thorin Oakenshield still refused to compromise the next morning, Allen would have no choice but to part ways with the company after leaving the Misty Mountains.

Allen had never intended to take part in the Mirkwood portion of the plot anyway. Why get caught between two powerful figures? All he could do was try his best to mediate between them.

Once Allen returned to Wilderness Village, he would prepare to send troops to Lake-town.

By then, Thorin Oakenshield would probably have found the Secret Door. Having found the door but being unable to find the keyhole would give him plenty to worry about.

Allen could then take a look at the map and tell Thorin Oakenshield that he could just about make sense of it. That would put Allen in control.

Whether Allen helped him, when he helped him, and what price he demanded in return would all depend on Allen's mood!

Allen spent more than half the night thinking through this tangle of concerns. In the end, he only managed a brief, fitful sleep.

The next morning, having barely rested all night, Thorin Oakenshield handed Allen the map with stiff-necked reluctance.

His expression was exceedingly grim. As he handed over the map, he repeatedly insisted that his company would never set foot inside Rivendell's gates.

Allen took the map and passed it to Gandalf beside him. The two exchanged a glance and smiled secretly behind Thorin Oakenshield's back.

Before long, Gandalf led the entire company onto a heath-covered moor, heading toward Rivendell.

The weather was rather poor, with a light rain falling. Though it would wash away their scent, it also made traveling much more difficult, and the Dwarves kept muttering complaints.

Allen had noticed that these Dwarves really loved to complain, especially when something displeased them.

They sounded like hundreds of ducks quacking at once, and the racket irritated Allen no end.

They were so straightforward by nature that they found it difficult to conceal their thoughts.

Even Fili and Kili, the two young royals, were no exception. By comparison, the two kings, Thorin and Dáin, behaved far better.

That afternoon, Gandalf led the company onto an extremely well-hidden path.

The place was so concealed that, without a guide, Allen would never have realized there was an entrance there.

At the entrance, they found a narrow valley ahead, barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast.

They trekked through the valley for quite some time before emerging. By then, night was approaching.

They rested overnight in a slightly wider spot, then set out again.

The stretch ahead was much easier to travel than the one behind them. Someone clearly maintained the road regularly.

Soon, they emerged from the winding passage and arrived above Rivendell.

Rivendell lay within a ravine in the wilderness. Elrond and the Elves had established it during the Second Age, creating a beautiful, secluded home.

It had once faced the threat of darkness as well, besieged by an army led by Sauron. The Elves living there had resisted fiercely, and it had never fallen.

After that, it became the largest Elven settlement in East Eriador.

Now, Allen followed Gandalf down the steps along the cliff toward Rivendell.

The Dwarves remained behind Allen, making camp there to wait for them.

What could Allen and Gandalf say? They could only leave them to it.

As Allen walked behind Gandalf, he admired the scenery.

He looked at the roaring waterfalls right beside the Elves' living quarters, somewhat puzzled.

How did these Elves live somewhere so noisy? Could they sleep well at night? Wouldn't it wear on their nerves?

Many accounts described this as a beautiful, peaceful place. It was certainly beautiful, but Allen did not know what to make of the claim that it was peaceful.

As the two descended into the ravine, the roar of the waterfalls actually began to fade, leaving only the gentle murmur of a stream flowing over rocks.

They then crossed a stone bridge and entered Rivendell's gates.

Lord Elrond had promised his assistance the previous year, so everything that followed went very smoothly.

Kindhearted as he was, he even personally dispatched a messenger to invite the Dwarves into Rivendell.

With an invitation from the Elven lord, Thorin Oakenshield did not persist in his stubbornness and settled in Rivendell.

That evening, Lord Elrond received the map. With his vast learning, he recognized the Moon-letters at a glance, but the timing was not quite right, so he urged them to stay a few more days.

After their long journey, everyone was more than happy to accept. Even Thorin Oakenshield thanked Lord Elrond.

After all, Lord Elrond had not tried to stop them and had instead helped them. The Dwarves Prince was not an ill-mannered man.

Whatever the others thought, Allen found his rest in this beautiful place with its pleasant climate very comfortable.

He enjoyed spending time near the waterfalls, watching the water plunge from above and splash into the pools.

Yet the sound was not noisy at all. On the contrary, it was very pleasing to the ear.

The only explanation Allen could think of was magic.

During this time, Lord Elrond also came to talk with Allen on several occasions, discussing all manner of subjects.

Most of the time, Allen could only listen quietly. There were things he felt he could not reveal, and others he knew little about.

But there were also plenty of occasions when Allen could manage a little discussion with this great figure, such as the many wars in which humans had fought during the Second Age.

Another example was the war between the Kingdom of Arnor and the Witch-king of Angmar during the Third Age. Allen knew a fair amount about it, so he spoke at greater length and expressed his regret over Arnor's fate.

Before long, their conversation turned to the kings among humans, the Númenóreans.

Of course, Allen knew of the Elven lord's connection to the Númenóreans.

As descendants of Eärendil, this line of Half-elves had the right to choose their fate. Elrond, who loved life, had chosen to become an Elf and had lived from the First Age to the present.

His twin brother, however, had chosen to become human and became the first king of the Númenóreans.

In other words, every member of the royal houses of Gondor and Arnor was of a generation junior to his.

But Allen did not say much. He did not know which information was strictly secret, so he merely offered a few comments on present-day Gondor and the Dúnedain active in Eriador.

Even so, Allen had revealed far too much.

Eventually, during one of their conversations, Elrond asked Allen his age.

He was curious how Allen could possess so much knowledge when he looked barely into his twenties.

At the same time, Elrond had begun to form some suspicions about Allen's origins.

At this point, Allen appeared to be around twenty, but he was actually in his early forties.

Allen did not want to lie to the Elven lord, nor could he deceive this wise Half-elf.

So Allen told Elrond his true age.

Their conversation ended there.

Over the next few days, Elrond did not come to see Allen.

Allen believed that their conversations over those past few days had earned Elrond's trust, and he gradually relaxed.

But soon, Lord Elrond introduced Allen to a boy. It was Aragorn, though at this time he was still called Estel.

Lord Elrond described him as the only son of a close friend, currently living in Rivendell.

The boy, already striking and spirited at just ten years old, stood beside his mother, Gilraen, looking at Allen with grace and confidence.

Though Allen had always wanted to meet Aragorn as a child, the fact that he was being sheltered here was a secret. Even Aragorn himself did not yet know his own origins.

Allen therefore did not know how to broach the matter with Lord Elrond and had even given up on the idea.

Now that the boy had suddenly appeared before him, Allen instead found himself at a loss for words.

But that small surprise did not stop Allen from taking a great liking to the boy.

In conversation, he spoke clearly and logically, with sound reasoning, already showing the beginnings of Elven wisdom.

Yet he retained pride in his heart and acted boldly and decisively, without fear.

After meeting Allen several times and growing familiar with him, he actually asked to test his swordsmanship against him.

After all, Allen kept telling him stories about fighting Half-orcs.

This displeased Gilraen, but Allen paid it no mind and agreed.

Allen would be leaving Rivendell the next day to continue his journey, and their next meeting might be decades away. It was only a small request.

The trouble was that Allen knew nothing of swordsmanship. He had always relied on senses and physical abilities far beyond those of ordinary people, along with his knowledge of and proficiency with various weapons.

As a result, Allen did not know how to hold back or trade techniques. Often, a single move was enough to force the proud boy into a hopeless position.

Several bouts ended the same way, leaving Estel somewhat dejected. He was surrounded by Elves of great age, with no one he could spar against.

He had always thought his swordsmanship was quite good. He had never expected to find himself unable to withstand even one move from Allen.

In fact, he had always thought Allen was a young man not yet twenty.

Looking at the downcast Estel before him, Allen considered for a moment and made a decision.

Allen had actually wanted to give the boy something all along, but despite searching through everything he carried, he had found no suitable gift.

Today, however, he drew the Noldorin Rune-sword at his waist and casually performed a few flourishes before Estel.

The gleaming silver blade flashed sharply in Estel's eyes. The runes engraved upon it seemed to give off a faint silvery glow, catching the boy's attention.

Allen held the sword upright before his eyes, examined it, and said to Estel, "This sword hasn't been with me very long, but countless evildoers have fallen to its keen edge. Nothing worthy of commemoration has happened, so I've never given it a name."

As he spoke, Allen handed the Rune Longsword to Estel. Estel accepted it in a daze, and Allen patted his shoulder.

With a smile, he said, "Today, I'm giving it to you, and in honor of your name, I name it Hope. I believe you'll find a weapon better suited to you someday, but until then, I hope it will always protect you and serve you well."

The boy froze and looked toward his mother. Strangely, Gilraen offered no objection. Instead, she told Estel to thank Allen.

Allen waved it off, said goodbye to Gilraen and her son, and brought that day's visit to an end.

Early the next morning, the members of the company had packed their belongings and were ready to leave.

Elrond told Allen that Rivendell would always welcome him whenever he had time to visit. He also prepared three bags of Miruvor as gifts for Allen, Gandalf, and Thorin Oakenshield.

And so they left Rivendell and once again set out on their journey.