Chapter 1: Unexpected Guests in Rivendell
Daeron, a ranger of the North, found himself in the midst of a rare respite from his arduous journeys in the wild. After years of tirelessly patrolling the borders of the North Downs and the Lone Lands, and keeping a watchful eye over Angmar, he sought solace in the haven of Rivendell. Nestled amidst lush valleys and majestic mountains, Rivendell was a place of peace and tranquility that he called home. As a young child, Daeron was found by Lord Elrond, who had come across a caravan being overrun by orcs while out with a hunting party. Lord Elrond had swiftly joined the fray and defeated the orcs, but they were unable to save anyone except for the four-year-old Daeron. The memory of that moment still lingered in Daeron's mind.
"It's alright, child," the kind elf lord said, kneeling down in front of the frightened Daeron. "I'm Lord Elrond."
"Daeron," he stammered, his gaze shifting towards the corpses strewn around, his parents among them, tears streaming down his face.
"My lord," a hunter called, rushing over. "There was a Dunedain amongst the company and an elf maiden. They appeared to put up a valiant fight."
Lord Elrond slowly turned his gaze back to Daeron, curiosity evident in his eyes as he noticed Daeron's pointy ears and the leaf pendant symbolizing the rangers that adorned his small cape. Sorrow washed over the elf lord's face as he spoke softly,
"I'm so sorry, dear one."
Daeron watched as Lord Elrond and his company buried the dead, paying their respects and piling the orcs to be burned. When the solemn task was complete, Lord Elrond approached Daeron and offered him safety.
"It would appear fate drew us together, young Daeron. Come, I'll take you somewhere safe."
Daeron followed the elf lord, feeling a strange compulsion, as if his parents were guiding him towards the one who had saved him. From that day on, Daeron was adopted by Lord Elrond.
One afternoon, as Daeron strolled along the graceful stone walkways of Rivendell, his keen elven senses caught a flicker of movement on the bridge leading into the valley. Curiosity piqued, he quickened his pace and soon beheld an unusual sight. Standing on the bridge were thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a familiar figure garbed in grey robes—Gandalf the Grey.
The elven garrison, swords at the ready, surrounded the unexpected guests, their watchful eyes filled with caution. Daeron's sharp eyes scanned the scene, recognizing the renowned wizard amidst the company. With a warm smile on his face, he approached the group, his ranger instincts keeping him alert.
"Gandalf!" Daeron called out, his voice carrying a melodious tone. "It is good to see you. What brings you and your companions to Rivendell?"
Gandalf turned towards the ranger, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Ah, Daeron, my friend. I have brought these travelers to seek shelter and rest. They have endured many perils and are in need of respite. Their business is their own, but they request an audience with Lord Elrond." He proceeded to introduce each member of the company individually.
Daeron studied the group before him, his gaze settling on the leader of the dwarves, a proud figure named Thorin Oakenshield. His weathered face bore the marks of a warrior, and his eyes exuded both determination and weariness. There was an air of mystery surrounding them, a tale yet untold.
"Welcome to Rivendell, Thorin Oakenshield," Daeron spoke with a tone of respect. "I am Daeron, a ranger of the North and a servant of Lord Elrond. I shall lead you to him, as you requested."
Thorin nodded, his expression guarded. "Lead the way, ranger. We have much to discuss with your lord."
As they made their way through the winding paths of Rivendell, Daeron observed the dwarves and the hobbit with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. The hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, appeared overwhelmed by the grandeur of the elven realm, his eyes wide with wonder. Daeron couldn't help but offer a reassuring smile, understanding the initial unease that visitors often experienced in this ethereal sanctuary. Upon reaching the great hall of Rivendell, Daeron ushered the company inside. The splendor of the elven architecture, adorned with delicate carvings and shimmering fountains, filled the air with a sense of tranquility. They were met by Lord Elrond, a majestic figure whose wisdom and grace were renowned throughout Middle-earth.
"Greetings, Lord Elrond," Daeron spoke with reverence. "I present to you Thorin Oakenshield and his companions, who have sought refuge in Rivendell."
Lord Elrond's piercing eyes studied the group, his gaze lingering on Thorin. "Welcome, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. I sense that your journey has been fraught with danger. Please, share your tale and the purpose of your presence in Rivendell."
Elrond's welcome seemed to catch Thorin off guard, and he bowed respectfully, grateful that the elf lord seemed to know who he was.
"Lord Elrond, we seek aid in reclaiming our homeland, the Lonely Mountain, from the clutches of the dragon Smaug. We have come to seek your wisdom and help in reading a map that I believe can hold the key to our victory."
A hush fell over the great hall as the weight of Thorin's words sank in. Daeron glanced at Gandalf, who stood at Lord Elrond's side, the twinkle in his eye growing brighter. It was then that Daeron realized there was more to this quest than met the eye.
"Very well, you may rest here as long as you need. Later, we will examine this map of yours," Lord Elrond replied.
Thorin dipped his head respectfully and left with the rest of his company.
"A word, Mithrandir," Elrond said, turning to the wizard. "You must tread carefully. Not all in this realm, and beyond, will view the dwarves' quest with favor. It may awaken and stir an evil that has been dormant for so long."
"I am well aware of the dire situation, but we can't sit idly by and let our enemies grow stronger," Gandalf replied, pulling out his pipe and lighting it.
"I'm not disagreeing with you, old friend, but Saruman has gotten wind of your actions and will arrive tomorrow to discuss whether or not to allow the dwarves to carry on with their quest, however noble it may be."
Gandalf frowned at the news and turned to look at Daeron. "What news from the North?"
"There is a growing strength among our enemies in the North. The rangers have been keeping vigilant watch, and we have begun to ambush small parties of orcs traveling through to Angmar."
A flash of worry and concern crossed Gandalf's face, though it quickly faded, replaced by a faint smile directed at the ranger.
"Tonight, we must examine Thorin's map. There are moon runes on it, but I lack the knowledge to read them. That is why I brought the dwarves here, much to their hesitation. You read them well, Elrond if I recall."
Lord Elrond sighed but nodded slowly. "It has been a while. Come, let us feast tonight, and when the moon is high, we shall examine this map."