Notes :

Hey there!

We're getting close to wrapping up this part of the story. I've got to admit it, the ending I came up with a while back was just too silly, so I'm giving it another shot. Brace yourself because things might pick up speed from here, and the big finale will hit not long after this chapter.

But, hold your horses, it's not the end of the road just yet. Here's a little sneak peek: the next fanfiction is going to dive into the adventures of Nienor and Elrond's daughter Ellena, and Glorfindel. I'm still debating whether to include it in the same story or give it its own space. I'll keep you posted on that!

Thank you for reading along. Stay tuned!

Chapitre 36 Revealed

Darken studied his son's concentrated face with attention. Both of them were hunched over maps, Aradan's black hair falling in front of his forehead, almost touching the parchment beneath. A faintly creased brow subtly betrayed the serenity of his beautiful face. Each time Darken looked at him, it was Nienor he saw. Anger, jealousy. That's all he felt, all that his son's angelic yet resolute face reflected back at him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to harm him. For Nienor, Aradan was dead. For Aradan, Nienor had abandoned him. These two beings who meant everything to each other now believed they were alone.

'What are you thinking about, father?' Aradan asked, standing up. He swept his long black hair through the air and crossed his arms over his chest. He no longer resembled the frail young elf Darken had freed from his tower. Aradan had won battles for him; he owed him that much.

'Time is slipping away, Aradan,' murmured Darken.

'The war drags on, I know. It's not good and it already works against us. Should I bring Farewell?' Aradan inquired.

'Why?' asked Lord Rhal.

'He is your adviser, your best asset down here.'

Darken smiled, 'that's untrue.' He began pacing the room, catching Aradan's now intrigued gaze. 'Do you realize that together, we could have attained such power that nothing could resist us?'

Aradan lowered his head, his hair falling lightly on his face as he sighed.

'Do you still feel it deep within you, Aradan?'

'No,' Aradan's response was firm, a bit abrupt. Darken positioned himself in front of him.

'Do you want to awaken it?'

'No,' Aradan's response was resolute. He knew what Darken was referring to. He didn't want the gift; he had never wanted it. That gift had cost him a father's love, and he hated Darken for it. And deep down, Aradan feared it. 'How could the two of us make a difference? If you alone can't win this war? Why not use Farewell's skills?'

'Everything has its limits. I know mine; Farewell has his own limits too. What's within you is different, Aradan. If only you'd embrace it, yield to its power. Don't you want to taste it?'

'All I want is to see her again.'

'Nienor,' murmured Darken.

Suddenly, three knocks echoed in the room. The door opened, revealing Farewell. He confidently walked toward them, 'I found it!' he exclaimed.

Darken and Aradan exchanged questioning glances.

'Imladriss,' clarified Farewell. He proudly unfolded a map with hastily scribbled lines.

'How?' asked Darken, leaning over the writings he could barely decipher.

'A little magic,' sang Farewell. 'When Nienor left here, I had previously enchanted the dagger. Luckily, it wasn't lost in the river; I had my doubts. It took time, but everything comes to those who wait. Thanks to it, I was able to locate Imladris. Of course, all of this may be more or less approximate; nevertheless, with the help of a map, I could guess the position of a passage.'

The expression on Darken's face was somewhere between anger and satisfaction -if possible-, a perfect blend of two opposites. Farewell had never informed him of such an endeavor, although Darken would probably have granted him permission. He disliked the freedom Farewell had taken, but he was satisfied to finally have located Nienor's hiding place.

'Allow me...' whispered Farewell. He took the piece of paper, read it silently once, and then pointed precisely to a spot on the map. 'Right here, a hidden path in the plains. Here, my Lord, your traitorous lady and her dear beloved half-elf handed to you on a golden platter!'

Farewell's face was lit with a kind of malice, his gaze burning. Aradan leaned over the map in turn and then looked up at Darken. It was impossible to read anything on the master's face.

'Send a messenger to Grome,' Darken began in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the map, 'have him gather his troops and prepare to welcome my army. Recall soldiers from Gondor; let them go to Hobbiton. Let all of this be done discreetly. I will fetch this ring myself, even if I have to turn the entire valley upside down.'

'It shall be done, master.' Farewell bowed as low as possible and then withdrew.

'Are you going to kill him?' Aradan asked.

'Do you want to see her again?'

'More than anything in the world,' he said.

Then Darken smiled and placed his hand on the young elf's face, 'Then prepare yourself; we will go together.'