HUGE CHAPTER INCOMING! LOVE YOU GUYS!

When speaking to Haleth after placing Hiccup once again under the care of Idril upon the previous night, Eldacar had predicted correctly when he foresaw that the young Dragon Rider would ask to revisit the smithy once the ranger offered to shepherd Hiccup about the valley once more the next day. Though upon overhearing this, Idril took much convincing to allow him to once again leave the infirmary, only a solemn promise that he would refrain from laborious work of any kind finally allowed his egress into the greater valley.

Though, even with such promises made a multitude of times, it took not only the endeavors of Eldacar and Hiccup, but also the efforts of Fishlegs, Astrid, Heather, and Toothless, before Idril conceded in her argument. It was indeed rather fortunate for the healing young Rider that his three fellows, and, of course, one of the Dragons themselves, had come to visit with the both of our bedridden companions.

Though, when offered the chance to join in this excursion, only Fishlegs, Astrid, and Toothless acceded to the offer, as Heather wished to remain by the side of her kin, she wryly spoke of a 're-match' upon the chessboard between herself and her brother, waving away any regret.

As the five made their way from the House of Healing towards the smithy, Hiccup recounted the deeds of the day prior, and of his newfound friendship with the smith of Imladris. Twas' then that Astrid made the droll comment that 'of course the first person you'd meet would be the blacksmith!' referring to Hiccup's boundless energy and exceptional work-ethic.

As the small group neared their destination a feminine voice whose owner was now well-acquainted with those in present company, was heard, "Lord Damron, is there no possible way?" asked said voice.

Upon rounding the corner to the entrance to the smithy proper, any suspicions of whom the voice belonged to were either dashed or confirmed, as Haleth stood there speaking with the smith Damron. However, what was surprising to our friends was that Lord Elrond himself was too in attendance with the pair.

Upon sighting our company, the conversation between the ranger and smith ceased.

Eldacar, those from Berk, and the Dragon all bowed their heads in respect to Lord Elrond, as well as the smith Damron and lady Haleth.

"My lord Elrond," intoned Eldacar, polite and courteous as he ever was, "lord Damron, lady Haleth"

The pair of Elves smiled and returned the gesture, as did Haleth, though her face was tinged with the sadness of melancholy.

"My lord Eldacar…" she began, "I must apologize. For I should have come to you but several days ago, though I fear that I have been distracted…"

Eldacar looked to her with confusion colouring his face, and thus intruded upon her words, "For what are you apologizing for, my friend?"

Haleth guiltily grasped a small cloth-wrapped bundle, and unfurled it to reveal Eldacar's trusted ancestral sword, that which had been wielded by many generations before him, but would do so for no more, for that blade had been shorn of the hilt and was now broken quite completely.

The faces of our companions fell noticeably, and even Toothless warbled in what could be an attempt at consolation. For they had come to understand that the Dunedain owned little in the way of material possessions, and as such those items that they did claim as their own were more precious by measure. Especially, in the case of those items wielded by earlier generations of their kin.

Eldacar moved ever so slowly, reaching out and grasping both blade and hilt reverently, looking at them as though they were a dear friend whom had quietly passed away in his absence.

Haleth began to speak again, "My lord…"

However, she was again interrupted by Eldacar, for whom said, "Though this loss pains me, I would certainly rather have my friends with us, than the sword of my father's made whole."

Haleth nodded solemnly, and replied, "I apologize that I had not returned your blade earlier, for I retrieved it after our encounter with the Orcs and the Troll. I ask your par…"

As his fellow ranger began to apologize again, Eldacar, with a sad smile upon his face held out a hand to wave away her fears, saying, "Lady Haleth, this was not your doing, I hold no ill will with you, and indeed thank you for returning my father's blade to me."

Haleth nodded in gratitude. It was then that smith Damron spoke, "Lady Haleth came to speak of reforging the sword, but, alas, I believe it to be beyond repair, and as much as I may regret these words, must say that there is no salvaging this blade."

Eldacar looked sadly at the blade, draped in white muslin cloth, he then nodded slowly before covering his trusted weapon with an overhang of the fabric, as if with to shroud the honored dead, whilst saying, "Tis the fault of none but the Orcs, and compared to many of their depredations, is a small burden to bear for the safety of those whom we protect."

Unexpectedly, it was now that Lord Elrond spoke, "Young lord Eldacar, your blade shall now and forevermore rest in these halls, as a testament to the service of your family against the Shadow."

All in attendance nodded in affirmation, but the Elf Lord carried on, "After consultation with several of those whom I trust for counsel, however, I would like to present you with a new blade."

Most of those in attendance were surprised, the others quite shocked as the Lord of Imladris retrieved a cloth of maroon crushed velvet from the rear of the smithy.

Placing the object upon the central table, the Lord of Imladris slowly unfurled the cloth to reveal a blade of astounding craftsmanship, it was wide with a bright blade, polished as though new, the wide fuller was lovingly inscribed with mithril runes in ancient Tengwar, and the hilt was of timeworn bronze, though the slight dulling of its shine only added to the resplendence of the artefact.

Eldacar looked to truly be stunned beyond words, he reverently allowed his hands to travel the length and breadth of the weapon, and its matching scabbard. This was clearly no simple forge-work, for this blade was clearly made in elder-days and imbued with much power.

"This is Angrenithil, retrieved by your grandfather from an old hoard concealed in the Ettenmoors. The blade was forged in the final century before the fall of Eregion by two great smiths, one of Elven-kind, and the other of the folk of Durin in Khazad-dum. Sadly, the smith's names are lost to the annals of time. Though their friendship remains, in the form of this blade. This sword is woven with great power, for it is a bane of Orcs, in their cruel tongue they name it 'Moon-shanker' and are greatly fearful of its cold glimmer.

Everyone was listening with rapt attention as Lord Elrond spoke of the history of the blade, finally concluding his tale by intoning, "I believe that the time has now come for this sword to again be used against the Shadow, and I can scarcely think of a greater hand to wield it than the grandson of they whom freed it, and for whom has made such contributions to the fight against Sauron, as well as showing the loyalty and wisdom to make friends with these noble Dragon-riders. I know you shall use it well."

It was perhaps several moments or perhaps many minutes before anyone spoke again, for none could later recall. "My lord…" Eldacar began, then paused as he fought for the right words, "I…I am truly grateful beyond what I may say…" he paused again, "Are you sure of this though? That I am worthy of such a blade?"
An enigmatic smile appeared upon Lord Elrond's face, "I expected such a reply, young Master Eldacar," said the Lord of Imladris, "for you have always been a humble soul, and it does great credit to the line of your forefathers." The Elven Lord strode forwards and placed a steadying hand upon the Ranger's shoulders before continuing, "You may doubt that you are the scion of whom fate intended to wield this blade, but I can say that as surely as the sun shall rise on the morrow, that you are whom was always intended to wield Angrenithil."

Eldacar's lips twisted into a small, yet proud, smile at those words, and, with great reverence, he lifted, first the scabbard, of which he fastened securely to his belt; then the blade itself, sliding the weapon so carefully that not a sound was heard when the guard of the sword contacted the metal chape of the scabbard.

All was again silent. It was then that Lord Elrond shifted his gaze behind the Ranger, and unto our three Dragon Riders, and of course, Toothless. All were maintaining a respectful silence, though Lord Elrond could clearly see that they were straining mightily to ask of one thing or another.

Now the face of the Lord of Imladris split into a small and knowing smile, he gestured to the foursome and the focus of all present shifted to our companions, to whom Lord Elrond said, "I believe that the four of you have been patient for enough time, for I can see that you each yearn to ask something of me."

The four stood straight as a Aspen sapling, for though they had now resided in Rivendell for some time, and met Lord Elrond on several occasions, it always seemed an honor when he gave them his attentions. Silently, Fishlegs and Astrid flicked their eyes towards their leader, who then began to speak, "Um, Lord Elrond…" Hiccup seemed to be in conflict with his tongue, as he wished mightily for it to convey what he wished of it, "You said that, um… that, the sword was 'woven with great power'", Hiccup paused again, "I mean, you mean magic, right?"

Lord Elrond, his face still touched of amusement, nodded silently and bade him to continue, which he did, "Um…I really mean no disrespect, but…well… we don't really have magic on Berk," the Elven Lord immediately recognizing the name of their home, for it was prominent in many, if not all, of their tales. Once again, Lord Elrond bade Hiccup to speak further, "I-I'm just trying to say, that… well, where we come from, Magic is a myth that really no one believes in… except my Dad's friend, and my master, and our blacksmith" Hiccup began to ramble slightly, but if any took head of his quickening speech, none showed sign of it, "and he's kinda crazy. But, well, we landed in something that Eldacar called the 'Barrow Downs' and we were attacked by some kind of … creature, and now, I mean, we kinda have to accept that magic exists. But, really, we're kinda still skeptical…"

For all that Hiccup could have been more articulate, his message was indeed clear, and after a moment Lord Elrond gestured out of the smithy whilst saying, "I can easily see the point you make, and I do not begrudge your question, follow me…"

With that, Lord Elrond gracefully led the Riders, Dragon, Eldacar, and Haleth out of the smithy. Damron gave a knowing wave upon their exit, and the small procession filtered out and into the green vale, their steps guiding them towards the great hall of the valley and a destination within, still unknown to most.

Several minutes later… Here is what I wish to show you." spoke Lord Elrond at last. Though before he could continue, light footsteps were heard as Amroth entered the chamber through the opposite doorway.

"My Lord," Amroth bowed, then turned his attention to the others, giving a welcoming smile.

Lord Elrond gave a knowing nod, then gestured to the younger Elf, saying, "Lord Amroth is one of the finest chroniclers in the valley, and his presence may greatly aid in what I must say."

At the complement, Amroth bowed again, lower this time, however.

It was then that the Lord of Imladris gestured towards a massive mural that claimed most of the western wall. The Riders eyes were near instantly transfixed by the painting, for it showed a dark and fell looking man, whose very appearance seemed to be an omen of doom and evil power made manifest. Though, of course, the painting was not of him alone.

Upon a rock in the far western edge of the mural rested a warrior, his crown shining, though dulled by the obvious gore of a battle. The young man, he could have even reached the age of thirty-five, though the Riders were to later find that his appearance belied greatly his years; leaned prone over afar older warrior, the filth of battle stained his head and it was obvious that the man was dead, his features also suggesting a kinship with the younger man.

In the young man's hand there was a broken blade, and even though the Rider's knew they were only staring at a painting, they could almost feel the light and hope that lay within the steel of the shattered sword.

The young man brandished the blade in a way as to suggest the warding off of some malicious force.

"This is a painting of The Last Alliance of Men and Elves, an event now near four-thousand years past." spoke Lord Elrond, "this was the final battle against the Darkness that is Sauron".

The Riders all recognized the name, for Eldacar had spoke to Hiccup and Astrid of him back on Dragon's Edge, and they had spoken of him in-turn to Fishlegs. It was then that the Riders realized that with the speaking of that name the light of the chamber seemed to dim momentarily, the air also cooling noticeably.

However, Lord Elrond continued, "It was truly a fell event, I know this, as I was there, in another age…" the Elven lord paused momentarily, as dark memories overtook him, however the feeling passed as quickly as it had came, and he continued, "Sauron was, in those days, still able to assume fair-form and fooled one of the greatest of Elven-smiths, Celembrimbror, whom had fashioned the Rings of Power."

At the Rider's confused glances Elrond elaborated, "

Ah, yes. Rings of Power. Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die. These were the crowning jewels of Elven-craft, all intended to protect each race…" Elrond's face again fell, "but we were, all of us, deceived. For another ring was made; in the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord fashioned, in secret, a master ring, to control all others; and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all."

With the riders transfixed by the painting, enthralled by his words, and enwrapped in his tale, the Lord of Imladris continued, "Many of the Free lands of Middle-Earth fell to his fell hordes, but there were still some who yet resisted. It was then that the Last Alliance was forged, and led against the hosts of Mordor by the High King of the Noldor Elves, Gil-Galad; and the High King of the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor, Elendil the Tall.

Many fell upon the plains of Gorgoroth, including both of those great kings. Sauron too fell, the One Ring separated from his hand by the wild blow of Elendil's son, Isildur.

With the destruction of his body the Dark Lord's forces were routed and destroyed., as was his fortress of Barad-dur. Alas, however, Evil was still allowed to endure, as Isildur had naught the strength of will to destroy the Ring, instead claiming it for himself, and thus sealing his fate. For he was killed as he returned to the Kingdom of Arnor. His body, never found, and the Ruling Ring lost to the river Anduin, where it has hence faded to legend and myth…"

It was there that Lord Elrond ended his tale, and as the Rider's seemed to still be digesting his tale, he quietly left the room, allowing for the entrance of another.

It may have been minutes or even a hour before any of the Rider's again spoke.

"Woah…" said Astrid simply

There was nothing wither of the others could do save nod their agreement.

It was then that a new voice entered our tale, one whom said, "Hmm…"

The Riders near jumped, as did Toothless, and even our three of who were native to these lands seemed to be startled.

Upon spinning on their axis the small band saw a wizened old man, swathed in grey robes, leaning upon a long wooden staff. "Hmm…" he said again.

"Gandalf!" said Eldacar warmly, having long ago met the Wizard, and was the first to now shake his hand, followed in-turn by Haleth and Amroth. Then the Wizard turned his attention towards our Dragon and Dragon-Riders.

"So, you must be those younglings who have caused more commotion here than I've seen in an age." he said warmly, his eyes containing a knowing twinkle.

The Riders stood stock still for a moment, then, ever the courteous one, Hiccup strode forwards and introduced himself and his friends, "Um… hello, I'm Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, and this is Toothless" rubbing said Dragon's head, " Astrid Hofferson, "Astrid smiled and nodded her head, "and Fishlegs Ingerman." the aforementioned Rider giving a meek wave.

Gandalf laughed and introduced himself in turn, "Very nice to meet you all, my name is Gandalf the Grey."

As Gandalf was privy to Lord Elrond's counsel, he chose to leave out his being one of the Istari, or Wizards, of Middle-Earth, guessing, rather correctly, that too many mystical revelations in one day may overwhelm our heroes.

Now Gandalf turned his attention back to Eldacar, saying, "Ah… I see Lord Elrond has gifted you with Angrenithil, good good. He heeded my advice, then."

Eldacar looked rather surprised at the revelation that it was Gandalf whom had spoken for him to receive his blade, but by the time he had formulated a response, the attention of the Wizard had again moved on.

"Young master," spoke Gandalf, "I have lived over three-hundred lives-of-men, yet I have never seen anything such as what you are wearing, Could you indulge an old man and tell me what it is?"

Hiccup stood dumbly for a few seconds, then, realizing that the man was inquiring about his Flight Suit, Hiccup smiled and said proudly, "This is my Flight Suit, Mark 8, or was it 9?"

"Flight Suit?" mumbled the Wizard, seeming rather intrigued indeed.