Chapter Thirty-Three: The Lord of the Rings
Elrond led her through the Homely House in and out of many rooms, going to parts of it she had never been before. At last he brought her to a large chamber dark, and yet also light. The walls, though black as ebony, shone with the sunlight that filtered through the tiny holes in the ceiling, like stars. The floor was covered with intricate carvings that Mélanyë could not identify, but yet to her seemed somewhat familiar.
In the center of the room were three seats set in a circle. One glimmering red, the other shining blue and the third shimmering white. Elrond sat in the blue chair, and as he did Mélanyë became aware of a ring on his finger, filling the room with a cool brilliance that seemed dazzling in the dim room. He motioned for her to sit in the white chair.
"This is the Chamber of the Three. A gathering place where, long ago the keepers of the Elven Rings would gather and combine their power for the establishment and protection of our realms." He looked around the room with a slight frown tugging at his lips. "The Rings are bound to one another. If the Dark One were to gain one, he would surely find them all, for they call to each other. Nenya rests with Galadriel in Lothlorien, Vilya I have in my possession," he lifted his hand for emphasis, "and Narya is with Mithrandir." He leaned over to her.
"Mélanyë, what you saw, I believe it to be real, happening even as we speak. If as you say Mithrandir is in Gondor, then the city is under attack, and the fate of all of Middle-Earth is about to be decided. Mélanyë," he sat forward in his chair for emphasis, "You are the only one in all of Imladris, nay, the west of Middle-Earth who knows what is happening at this moment in Gondor." Mélanyë's lips parted in silent shock, trying to grasp what he'd said. At last she spoke.
"But I know nothing- nothing more than what I told Elrohir."
"I think you know more than you realize, young one," he said. "You have been given a gift, Mélanyë, a gift of the Valar. The Valar do not bestow gifts lightly. Yours has a purpose, and perhaps it is to show us how the Third Age will end, or how the Fourth will begin." He paused, allowing her to muse on the meaning of his apparent repetition, which she quickly realized was nothing of the sort. If Sauron won, the Third Age would indeed end; an end to all ages and a complete darkness would cover all places, peoples and times. There would be no more ages. If however, Men prevailed, it would mark the beginning of a new and brighter Fourth Age in which evil has been subdued, Men come into their power and Elves would slowly fade from memory. She knew in a moment this was what he spoke of. Either way it was an end to all she held dear.
"I do not know how to use this gift," she said, "the dreams come when they wish, and leave in the same manner. I cannot control what I see."
"That is why I have brought you here," said Elrond. "As I said, the Three are joined. The bearer of one can speak to the bearer of the others, even when not in the same room. I can use Vilya to amplify your dreams, perhaps lengthening them so that you may see more of what is happening, since the events you described were in proximity to Narya." Mélanyë frowned.
"Aren't you worried that Sauron may sense the presence of the Three as soon as you attempt to use them?" She had heard the lore of the rings, and knew that they had been made by elves long ago at the will of Sauron, only to be corrupted by his arts when at last he made the One. Therefore, any wielders of the lost Three, or the four of the Seven that had not been found would be sensed by Sauron in a moment. Even though the Three remained unsullied, they still were tied to the fate of the One.
"If the battle goes ill all will be laid bare to his Eye whether or not we choose to wield them. There is no longer any reason to fear their use when, no matter where the victory lies, all the world will be changed when this battle is won." This last seemed to convince the girl, who sat small and somewhat frightened in the great white throne made for the wielder of Nenya. Touching the glittering stone beneath her fingers caused her to wonder what was happening in Lothlorien and, before she knew what was happening, she no longer saw Elrond sitting before her.
Instead she sat in a deep forest on a fallen mallorn trunk. She stood immediately, seeing that the mallorn had not died, for nothing dies in Lorien while the Elves lived there. The tree had been cut down. She looked up in alarm and saw before her a battle raging fiercely within the fences of Lorien.
She came closer, not fearing any danger, watching as the Elves defended against the invading force of Orcs. She saw clad in bright mail, Celeborn Lord of Lothlorien fighting alongside his scouts and march-wardens. She looked up to the sky, seeing the sun high above indicating that it was just after midday as it was in Imladris. She looked back to the battle, but when she was about to move closer the vision faded and she again saw Elrond before her.
He was staring at her with concern, for to him she had sat still, looking simply as if she were daydreaming. She blinked and focused on his eyes before speaking.
"Lothlorien is under attack as well," she said.
"You've had another vision?" he asked in amazement. She nodded and continued.
"Celeborn is defending his land well with his scouts. The Orcs, though numerous, will never make it to the City." Elrond looked relieved.
"You are linked to Nenya as well," he said. He then sat forward in his chair, motioning for her to do the same. "Mélanyë, I would like to try to use Vilya to see what is happening in Gondor." She looked at him with wide eyes, nodding stiffly. She knew that she would have to watch a battle, terrible and frightening even though she herself would be in no danger. It was a horrible thought to know you would be seeing such a thing, unable to help or do anything but watch the destruction.
Before she could think any further Elrond reached out for her. Vilya began to glow even brighter, until it seemed that all her sight was overwhelmed by the soft blue light. It was not unpleasant, however, and instead she felt her heart filled with calm as she waited for the visions to come. The room was still and silent as he placed his palm on her forehead. Only the sound of their soft breathing could be heard, but inside they began to hear other sounds. Voices and shouts, the crackle of flames and the sound of stone shattering began to slowly grow louder. Then the images came; vague and blurry at first, but soon they emerged with painful clarity, as if everything were sharpened exceedingly beyond what was normal.
The first thing she saw was a view of Minas Tirith. The great white stone city was burning, her walls surrounded by an army beyond reckoning. Dimly Mélanyë felt Elrond's palm press more firmly to her forehead as he saw the city too. Soon their vision drew closer until they could see the great battle on the Pellanor. Men and Orcs fought ceaselessly while the great dark shapes of the Nazgul hovered overhead.
The two elves sat together watching the battle unfold. They saw the arrival of the Rohirrim, the Harradrim and the Mumakil. At the same time they also saw the battle inside the walls of the city as the Orcs gradually broke through each level getting closer to the Citadel. Finally, they all but let out a cry of triumph as they watched the Army of the Dead sweep through the city, killing every orc and fell beast in their path.
Numbly, Elrond lifted his hand from Mélanyë's head and sat back. She herself dropped back into her chair in exhaustion. They had been together in the Chamber of the Three for many hours, and the sun was now low in the sky. After a moment they looked at one another, sharing a relieved smile. The battle was won, for now.
Heading back to the courtyard, Elrond and Mélanyë were stopped by his children, who had all been waiting patiently to hear any news. He looked around him, as now several more elves had come to hear their Lord's words, and smiled at each of them, his eyes at last catching Arwen's as he spoke.
"The sword of Elendil has returned to Minas Tirith," he said. All around Imladris rose a great cheer.