Chapter 1 – Valley of Imladris
50 years earlier...
I hail from a small town called Archet, near Bree. I was sent to Ered Luin to study under a great Dwarven scholar, and he has accepted me as his apprentice. We are traveling east, as we departed from Thorin's Hall days ago, and have crossed Ered Luin, the Shire, Bree-land, the Lone-lands and even the Trollshaws since.
"Come on, lad, just a little further", master Meryn tells me, "I know it's been a long journey from Thorin's Hall, but you're never going to forget what you're about to see."
The rhythmic shaking of riding my pony has me on the edge of sleep. I may be Man, but I am still a child. I can not ride a full-grown horse yet. We've been riding all day and we left Ost Guruth this morning at first light. Tales of warg riders told by the local populace made sure I did not get as much sleep as I intended. Luckily, they tend to stay away from the roads, or so I'm told.
The barren hills have changed to a luscious autumn forest, and the dirt road is now paved with stone slabs that lead us through the trees. A pretty sight, but my fatigue is slowly getting the better of me. The road leads uphill, to what appears to be a clearing in the forest, and seems to lead down after. As we slowly climb upward, the sunset finds its way through the trees, blinding me and scaring the sleep away.
Master Meryn had not exaggerated. The orange rays of dusk illuminate the valley below and reveal the reflection of complex stone and wooden structures. I see people, fair-skinned and tall, moving through the buildings as they go their ways. Elves... I grew up among Men, but as we traveled, I have seen Dwarves and Hobbits as well. And now, Elves...
"We are looking upon the valley of 'Imladris', Ganor", he tells me, "although, in the common tongue, it is known as Rivendell. We have reached the final destination of our journey."
I step off my pony, my mouth agape as I behold the valley in awe.
"It is beautiful... beyond words...", I utter.
"Yes, it is indeed", master Meryn concurs. "However, it seems we are already late. Best not linger, for it would be rude to keep our hosts waiting any longer."
As I take in the view one more time, I hop back onto the back of my pony, and we head down the hill.
In an attempt to see all the sights at once and not miss a thing, I turn my head in all directions until my neck starts hurting. "Don't worry, lad", my master assures me, "we'll have plenty of time to look around. After all, we'll be here for a while."
At the end of the road is a stone platform, with a long-haired figure in a brown robe awaiting us. Master Meryn rides up to him, and then gets off his pony. He looks up to the Elf, and bows his head.
"Mae g'ovannen(Well met), Elrond, lord of Rivendell", he says. My master straightens his back, and proclaims: "My name is Meryn Stonescribe, master scribe of Thorin's Hall."
"Suilad(Greetings), master Stonescribe", the Elf replies. "It is not often that visitors of Dwarvish descent come to our valley, let alone that they speak Sindarin. Although a certain level of linguistics was to be expected of a scribe of your standing."
"I found it only fair to greet you in your own tongue, master Elrond. Consider it a gesture of gratitude. Thank you for allowing me and my student to come here."
The Elf-lord smiles. "Our people may have had our quarrels, but all those pure of heart are welcome in my home. Elves, Men, Dwarves, even Hobbits have passed through these lands."
Lord Elrond's gaze falls to me. "And who have you brought with you?"
I am at a loss for words. Master Meryn poke me with his elbow and says: "Tell him your name, lad. Show some respect."
I swallow to clear my throat, and say: "My name is Ganor. Ganor of Archet."
"Welcome, Ganor, child of Man, to the last homely house east of the sea. Both of you are welcome to stay as long as you want. You are just in time for dinner."