Epilogue – The Beginning

"SAM! NO!" Frodo watched in despair as Sam fell off his horse and the jaunty creature pranced to the other side of the pasture having stolen Sam's pride and dignity. Grumbling under his breath, he set off to help Sam retrieve his horse.

It was almost six months since the Fellowship had defeated the Dark Master and the world was quietly and slowly starting to heal itself. Without all the luxuries and conveniences of the Old World, as the people now called it, people were beginning to respect nature more and were learning the true meaning of patience.

Frodo, Sam and a few others were trying to learn how to properly ride a horse while Gandalf and Galadriel were enjoying a fine afternoon tea nearby.

"Is there anything finer than drinking a fine cup of tea in the welcoming shade of an aged tree?" Galadriel wondered out loud.

"Not many, I'm sure," Gandalf replied, sipping his own tea. "Have you heard from either Arathorn or Thranduil?"

"Not lately. But I'm sure they're fine." She smiled peacefully but a little mischievously. "They are, after all, Aragorn and Legolas' fathers. No need to worry about them, either."

"Very true." He paused for a moment, wondering if he should disrupt the peace. He went on and said, "I think, after all this business with the Darkness, we've all learned to enjoy the small things that life offers much more than we used to."

"Yes." She, too, paused and looked over the cliff into the park in the middle of the city.

She couldn't see it, but she knew it was there. A tall, flowing sculpture constructed from materials around the city sat in the middle of the park. She had made the structural designs to purposely imitate the cultures of the past. From a distance, it looked like a sculpture of the White Spike of Echthelion. As the viewer came closer, it resembled more closely to a shimmering tree. But at any angle, the landmark would reflect the light of the sun and moon in a mysterious, silver shine. Upon closer inspection, artifacts of the modern past could be seen inside the construct.

A Tribute to the Past, the plaque said at the foot of the sculpture. It was also written, "In memory for all those dead and alive who fought and suffered the Darkness in the Past. May this statue serve as a guiding Light for all those who come."

"Who was it?" Galadriel asked, half to the wind, half to Gandalf. "Who or what could have been so powerful to be able to be the Dark Master?"

"I don't believe we'll ever know for sure. It could have been Sauron's doing or it could have been some fool in this Age who played with powers that shouldn't have been meddling with. We may never know."

"It's hard to believe that a single being could bring about such destruction," she sighed. "It's sad."

"A single being with a single emotion. That leads to powerful consequences, indeed. With a single emotion comes a single thought and it obstructs all other thoughts until it is satisfied. If that happens, the mind creates or unlocks abilities that were once impossible to use."

"A powerful concept, Gandalf. It truly is a pity that every being has that ability."

"Yes…" He thought in silence for a few seconds. "Could that be what the Dark Master was?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Could it have been the pure emotion and desire of a single thought? Could it have been the result of hatred and its dire consequences? Could the Dark Master have been nothing but the accumulation of rage, recklessness, hatred, dispiritedness, chaos and all things opposite of all we hold dear for all these years?"

Galadriel was looking at him intently but with a faint expression of worry in her eyes. She reached over and filled his teacup with more tea. "You should relax, Gandalf. It's not healthy for a man your age to worry so much about things in the past. You might have a heart attack."

He looked at the tea and chuckled softly. "Too true, too true." He drank some of his tea and calmed down a bit. "But," he began again and looked her in the eye, "what do you think? Was the Dark Master nothing but a living hatred?"

She looked back at him over the rim of her teacup and smiled. The gentle face of Galadriel, even after so many millennia, rarely revealed anything but serene reassurance.

"As you said, Gandalf," she said as she smiled, "we may never know."

"Just as we may never know if the Darkness will ever rise again to destroy the world."

"You know as well as I do that Darkness is never truly gone from the world as long as there is still Light. What will matter is if those who defend the Light will rise to fight the Darkness."

"They will," Gandalf said confidently. "They always will."

The wind gently flowed over the pasture and waved the grass to them. Over head, the fluffy clouds silently and slowly floated across the pale blue sky. Brilliant shafts of sunlight danced by the sides of the clouds and lit up the vibrant colours of the Earth.

Galadriel gazed at the wonders of creation and smiled, reassured. She raised her teacup to him and he did the same.

"They'll always fight the Darkness," she said.

"And they'll always win," he said and clinked his cup with hers.

"So they shall. Such is the balance of the world."

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A/N: I was thinking about doing an epilogue but I couldn't think about what to write about until Lady Altaria mentioned a few things that brought them to mind. Hantas to you!

Thanks to all of you again who took the time out of your lives to read The Search For Darkness and those who reviewed in the past!