The last days of travel were especially exhausting for the company. Their steps were slow, weighed down by accumulated fatigue, and the hobbits struggled to keep up, supporting each other along the way. The paths they followed grew steeper, forcing them to stop frequently to catch their breath. Twisted roots and hidden stones in the underbrush added obstacles at every turn, making their progress increasingly difficult.

Finally, the path opened up to reveal a spectacular view: the valley of Rivendell. Nestled in the heart of the mountains, the valley unfolded like a lush oasis, with crystalline waterfalls cascading softly along the rocks, creating a soothing murmur. The Elven buildings, constructed in perfect harmony with the surrounding nature, blended into the landscape, their delicate structures emerging through the golden foliage of the trees. Their graceful silhouettes, adorned with fine carvings, were bathed in the golden light of morning, giving the whole scene an almost otherworldly aura.

The waterfalls shimmered like threads of silver as they tumbled over the polished rocks, while the tall and majestic trees seemed to dance in the light breeze. The air was filled with the scent of pine and moss, creating a peaceful atmosphere that even the most weary travelers could not ignore.

Pippin and Merry, wide-eyed, couldn't stop marveling at the view. "It looks like a fairy tale," Merry murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "I've never seen anything like it." Sam, standing beside him, nodded slowly, a tired but sincere smile on his face. "It's more beautiful than anything we ever heard of back in the Shire," he added.

Calion, leading the group, advanced at a measured pace, though every muscle in his body betrayed a growing tension. As they crossed a stone bridge over a rushing river, his gaze lingered on the path ahead, though his mind seemed elsewhere. Aragorn, walking by his side, couldn't help but notice this unusual unease.

When the group paused near a clear fountain, Aragorn turned to Calion, a shadow of concern in his eyes. "What troubles you so?" he asked quietly, making sure the hobbits were out of earshot. "Rivendell is a sanctuary, not a place of danger."

Calion was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the horizon. "It's not the place that worries me," he finally replied, his tone more guarded than usual, hiding his true thoughts behind a veil.

Aragorn nodded, but he couldn't mask his concern. "Elrond is an ally. If there's something bothering you, you should tell me." But Calion said nothing more, his expression hardening. He turned his head, his green eyes catching the last golden reflections of the sun as he deliberately avoided his friend's gaze.

The hobbits, oblivious to the palpable tension, drank eagerly from the fresh water of the fountain, their laughter breaking the heavy silence. "If this is Rivendell, I could settle here forever," joked Pippin, prompting a laugh from Merry.

As the group resumed their walk, the shadow of the tall trees enveloped them once more, and the sight of Rivendell's golden rooftops shimmering in the distance guided them toward their destination. Aragorn kept a watchful eye on Calion, still concerned. Despite the apparent serenity of the place, he sensed his companion was not at peace.

Suddenly, a small figure burst onto the path, feet pounding the ground with newfound energy. "Frodo!" Sam cried out first, his eyes lighting up with joy. Merry and Pippin, without hesitation, dropped their packs and rushed forward, surrounding Frodo in a flurry of laughter and tears. "I can't believe it, Frodo, you're here!" Pippin exclaimed, his eyes bright with relief.

"Oh, Frodo, you're safe, sir!" Sam added, his voice trembling with emotion as tears of relief rolled down his cheeks. He hugged his friend so tightly it seemed he would never let go.

Frodo, visibly moved, smiled at his friends, savoring this moment of reunion. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks to Arwen," he replied with a nod.

Merry, curious, looked at him with sparkling eyes. "We were so worried! And what's Rivendell like? Is it as magical as they say?"

Frodo nodded enthusiastically. "It's even more beautiful than the stories say, Merry. And…" he smiled mischievously, enjoying the moment. "Guess who's here?"

Pippin nearly jumped for joy. "Bilbo, it's Bilbo, isn't it?"

"Exactly!" Frodo replied, delighted by their reaction. "He's eagerly waiting to see you all."

Aragorn, observing the scene from afar, turned to Calion, a calm smile on his lips. "Look at them," he murmured. "Despite everything they've been through, their joy remains untouched."

Calion nodded, a faint smile softening his usually serious face. "Their friendship is their greatest strength."

Frodo, detaching himself from his friends, approached them. "Strider, Calion, I can never thank you enough. Because of you…" His voice trembled slightly, but he regained his composure. "Because of you, we're all here."

Aragorn placed a reassuring hand on Frodo's shoulder. "There is nothing to fear here. You are safe, Frodo."

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin continued to bombard Frodo with questions, eager to explore every corner of Rivendell and see Bilbo again. Sam, still emotional, watched his friend with deep gratitude, thankful to have him back safe and sound.

As they approached the gates of Rivendell, a group of Elves advanced gracefully, their garments sweeping over the golden leaves scattered across the paved paths. At their head stood Elrond, dressed in a tunic embroidered with leaf motifs, his piercing yet kind eyes fixed on the group of travelers. "Welcome to Rivendell, friends of the Shire," he declared in a grave but welcoming voice, bowing his head slightly. "You have traveled far and with admirable courage."

The hobbits, awkward yet respectful, attempted to mimic his bow, though their gestures were a bit hesitant. Their faces, still marked by the exhaustion of the journey, lit up with hope and wonder at the sight of the Elves standing before them. Aragorn stepped forward to greet Elrond, who placed a warm hand on his shoulder, a sign of their long-standing friendship.

Calion, staying back, hoped to blend into the background of the group. But it was in vain; his tall figure contrasted sharply with the hobbits, and despite his attempt at discretion, he stood out clearly.

After greeting Aragorn and the hobbits, Elrond turned his gaze to Calion. His eyes rested on him with a respectful curiosity. "And you, friend from the North, who accompanied my guests in these troubled times, may I know your name?"

Calion, keeping his eyes lowered, remained silent for a moment. His face was impassive, and he simply murmured in a nearly inaudible voice, "I am a companion of Aragorn. Nothing more."

Aragorn stepped forward to introduce him, his voice clear and steady. "This is Calion, a loyal friend and invaluable ally. He has accompanied me for many years and protected the hobbits throughout this journey. He is a remarkable warrior."

At the mention of his name, Elrond seemed to hold his breath for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise. "Calion…" he murmured, almost to himself. "I once met a man bearing that name, centuries ago."

The hobbits exchanged curious glances, listening intently, as Elrond continued, captivated by his discovery. "If I am not mistaken, you are of the line of Calion…" He took a step closer, observing Calion more closely, though Calion remained withdrawn, avoiding eye contact. "I thought that line had long since vanished."

Calion stood rigid, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on an invisible point. He felt the weight of Elrond's gaze on him but refused to meet it. He seemed defensive, a visible tension in his shoulders. He remained silent, his expression impassive.

Elrond continued, his gaze becoming sharper. "Black hair and green eyes…" he murmured, squinting slightly. "Yes, those are the distinctive traits of your lineage. You are the worthy representative of Calion the 65th." He paused, and his features softened into a sincere smile. "It is an honor to welcome you here, Calion."

The hobbits, surprised and intrigued, whispered among themselves. "Calion the 65th?" Merry murmured. "I didn't know there were so many of him!" Pippin nodded, fascinated by the revelation.

Calion, however, remained impassive. He barely inclined his head in response to Elrond's words, but he still avoided the Elf's gaze. His silence and reluctance were palpable, and Aragorn, sensing his discomfort, intervened to ease the atmosphere. "He is a man of few words," he said softly to Elrond, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I can assure you that his worth and loyalty are invaluable."

Elrond nodded, his gaze moving from Aragorn to Calion, before responding, "I have no doubt. You are all welcome here." Despite his kind words, a glimmer of curiosity remained in his eyes, but he chose not to press further, respecting the distance Calion maintained.

After several days of grueling travel, Calion took the opportunity to refresh himself. The clear waters of Rivendell soothed his tense muscles and washed away the dust of the road from his travel-worn clothes. He changed into an Elven tunic, a dark green embroidered with silver threads, discreet yet elegant. His hair, now clean and falling freely over his shoulders, added to his natural dignity, a contrast to the days of struggle.

As he adjusted his clothing, Aragorn appeared at the entrance of the room, a sincere smile lighting his face. "There you are, finally rested," he said, stepping forward.

Calion raised an eyebrow. "Is it that obvious?" he replied with a smirk.

Aragorn nodded. "Absolutely. It looks like Rivendell is beginning to work its magic on you."

Calion glanced out the window, watching the mountains illuminated by the last rays of daylight. "It's a peaceful place, I'll give you that." His tone remained reserved, but there was a hint that he was, for once, allowing himself to relax.

Aragorn gestured for him to follow. "Elrond invites us to dinner. It's been a while since we've had a proper meal and pleasant company."

Calion, slightly hesitant, made a final adjustment to his tunic. "Very well," he agreed. He joined Aragorn in the hallway, though despite his relaxed appearance, a cautious vigilance lingered in his eyes.

Calion and Aragorn slowly descended the stairs leading to the reception hall. The soft twilight light filled the room, illuminated by wall torches that cast warm shadows. As they entered the great doors, the atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie. The hobbits were gathered around the table, chatting and laughing, their faces bright with the joy of reunion.

Bilbo, at the center of the group, looked up as they arrived. "Ah, Strider! Always dependable, even for a good meal!" he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He then turned his gaze to Calion, intrigued. "And who do we have here? Another one of your mysterious friends?"

Calion gave a slight bow, a discreet smile on his lips. "Calion, at your service, Master Bilbo. It is an honor to meet you. Frodo has mentioned you many times." This time, his voice was more relaxed, a difference even the hobbits noticed.

The hobbits, now more at ease, exchanged jokes amongst themselves. Pippin, the most curious, leaned toward Calion: "Tell me, back in Bree, you and Strider seemed to know how to disappear into the shadows. Do you do that often?"

Calion, amused by the question, shrugged. "Let's just say it's useful for surprising those who don't expect a ranger to appear from the darkness."

Merry added with a wink, "Maybe we should learn how to do that; it might come in handy."

Sam leaned forward, intrigued. "And do you travel a lot like Strider? You must have seen incredible things."

Calion shrugged. "A few, yes. But it's the companions along the way that make these journeys memorable." The hobbits exchanged glances, visibly touched by his words, feeling for the first time a connection with this mysterious ranger.

Aragorn, watching the scene with a smile, placed a hand on Calion's shoulder. "We have traveled together for a long time," he said with evident sincerity. "He has always been a valuable support, and together, we've overcome many trials."

Bilbo nodded, a warm smile on his lips. "Well, tonight, the company is together, and that deserves a celebration." He raised his cup, and the hobbits followed suit, laughter and cheerful murmurs echoing in the hall.

Merry, taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere, leaned toward Calion. "Is it true you can walk for days without stopping? Strider told us you're one of the most tireless rangers."

Calion smiled, amused. "Perhaps, but I need rest like everyone else."

The hobbits laughed, sensing that the once-distant ranger was finally more approachable. They continued talking, sharing stories and laughter, creating a warm atmosphere in which Calion, for the first time in a long while, felt truly at ease.

The evening wore on peacefully, the Elven food and drink now cleared from the table, and a soft light filled the reception hall. Calion and Aragorn were seated with Gandalf and Elrond, sharing a rare moment of relaxation after the trials of their journey. The quiet murmur of conversations and the distant crackling of torches accompanied the subdued ambiance of the room.

Gandalf, after taking a sip of his wine, turned to Elrond with a feigned look of innocence. "Elrond, didn't you cross paths with one of Calion's ancestors many years ago?"

Calion, who until then had seemed relaxed, suddenly froze. His eyes lost their usual glimmer, and his fingers stiffened around his cup. Elrond, aware of Calion's reaction but pretending not to notice, adopted a thoughtful expression. "Indeed," he said, his gentle voice resonating in the room. "Several centuries ago, I met a man of that lineage—the 65th, if I recall correctly."

He paused, observing the expressions of his companions without pressing too hard, though his bright eyes betrayed his curiosity. "Calion the 65th was a remarkable man, gifted with great wisdom. Our paths crossed near Eregion, at a time when shadows were already spreading on the horizon."

He smiled slightly, as if recalling a distant memory. "He bore the same features as you, Calion: the black hair and green eyes so distinctive of your lineage."

"He shared life with the Elves of Eregion for many decades. Alongside Círdan, he contributed to the construction of our ships, a loyal ally and a kind soul," Elrond continued.

He paused, and silence settled around the table. The hobbits, attentive, listened, fascinated by this tale from another time. "And then, one day, he disappeared, leaving no trace. Círdan worried for a long time, hoping to hear news of him."

Elrond inclined his head slightly, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. "I did not know he had descendants," he added, fixing Calion with a particular intensity, as if seeking to glimpse something deeper. "I thought that line was lost."

Calion, remaining withdrawn, met Elrond's gaze, though his expression remained impassive. However, his green eyes shone with a light that did not escape Aragorn or Gandalf.

The hobbits, meanwhile, whispered to each other, impressed and curious. Pippin turned to Frodo, whispering, "There are so many mysteries around him…"

Gandalf, ever attentive, spoke in a calming voice: "The stories of our ancestors remind us that the past has deep connections to the present. Every heir carries within him the shadow and light of those who came before."

Aragorn then raised his cup. "To those who paved the way before us, and to those who continue to walk it."

Taking advantage of a moment when the group's attention shifted to the hobbits, who were eagerly recounting their adventures on the road, Calion rose quietly from the table. "Thank you for the hospitality, but I must excuse myself," he said, bowing respectfully to Elrond.

Aragorn, watching Calion leave, nodded in understanding. He knew how much his friend disliked being the center of attention, especially among strangers. Calion slipped silently into the hallway, his footsteps muffled by Rivendell's peaceful atmosphere.

Elrond watched Calion's retreating form for a long moment, his expression becoming more pensive. His eyes seemed to search the emptiness, as though probing a hidden memory. He leaned closer to Aragorn, speaking in a soft voice, almost to himself: "A lineage of men as ancient as that… it is rare, Aragorn. Very few lines have endured through the ages. What surprises me even more are those features—the black hair and green eyes… They are identical to those of Calion the 65th."

He paused, his voice tinged with a touch of nostalgia. "It's strange, you know… This current Calion does not resemble him exactly, and yet… it's as if a shadow of the past stands before me."

Gandalf, listening in silence, exchanged a look with Elrond as the latter continued, seemingly lost in thought. "Calion the 65th had that same glimmer, that same spark in his eyes. He devoted part of his life to building alongside Círdan, yet he also had this need for solitude, this withdrawal. And now… it's as if I'm seeing him again, through the veil of time. It disturbs me."

His eyes wandered over the room, as though seeking to unravel a mystery that eluded him still.

Elrond remained thoughtful for a moment before resuming, his eyes lost in distant memories. "What has always troubled me is Calion the 65th's sudden disappearance. He had lived and worked with us for more than twenty years—a short period for Elves but one we held dear. He was highly respected, especially by Círdan, who saw him as a brother-in-arms."

He sighed, his voice tinged with subtle melancholy. "One day, without warning, he left Eregion. No word, no indication of his destination. We searched for him, hoping for some sign, but all we found were trails that disappeared into the mountains."

Elrond turned to Gandalf, as if sharing the burden of the memory. "I never understood why he left. Perhaps he carried a burden we could not imagine, or perhaps…" He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, his thoughts lingering on an unsolved mystery. "It is unsettling to see this name and these features again, as though the past were repeating itself."

Gandalf nodded, respecting the silence that followed. Aragorn, also deep in thought, remained silent, reflecting on words that revealed much more than a mere memory.

Aragorn hesitated, aware he was touching on a sensitive topic. Yet curiosity compelled him to speak. "Elrond, there's something else. Calion bears a strange sword. It is wrapped in leather, almost as though it's sealed. It seems like a ritual… or a vow. I've always seen it bound that way, and he refuses to draw it."

Elrond, hearing this, seemed deeply troubled. "A sword wrapped in leather…" He closed his eyes for a moment, as if searching his memory for echoes from the past. "Calion the 65th also carried such a blade. He said it was passed down through generations, an ancient artifact that each Calion must bear, yet never unsheathe without a dire need. It seemed a burden he carried by keeping it bound, but he never explained further."

He turned to Aragorn, his gaze serious. "It's strange that such a legacy persists even now. The line of Calion seems to keep its secrets, even across the ages."

Elrond, still immersed in thought, murmured more to himself than to his companions: "It is possible that this line comes from Númenor… That would explain much. Calion the 65th showed no signs of aging during the twenty years he spent with us."

Aragorn's interest piqued as he heard Elrond mention Númenor. "A line that ancient, here in Middle-earth?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Elrond nodded, still deep in thought. "Even among the Númenoreans, it's rare. Those who set foot on our lands had great longevity, but a lineage that extends over so many generations with such distinctive traits… it seems exceptional."

Gandalf added, "Indeed, the people of Númenor were blessed with remarkable longevity, but this lineage in particular seems to defy time more than any other."

Gandalf, with a wise smile, concluded, "It seems you've found an ally full of mysteries, Aragorn. A descendant of such an ancient line can only be an asset in the troubles ahead."

Aragorn nodded, though a look of reflection crossed his gaze. As Gandalf spoke, he felt a weight pressing on his shoulders. He recalled the years spent with Calion—the battles, the long nights under the stars, and those moments when his companion seemed almost absent, his mind elsewhere. He remembered the strange, almost oppressive sensations that sometimes hung in the air when they were in danger. He recalled the fight with the Nazgûl, Calion's unusual fury, his eyes burning with a supernatural intensity.

Doubt assailed him. Was he journeying alongside someone he didn't fully understand? For ten years, he had chosen to trust Calion, relying on his instincts and the loyalty Calion had proven time and again. But he could no longer ignore the questions swirling in his mind. Why had he never seen Calion change? Ten years had passed, yet his companion's features remained unchanged, his strength unyielding.

He was torn between the need to ask questions and the silent promise he had made not to break the mystery surrounding Calion. For now, he chose to keep his doubts to himself, hiding his thoughts behind a calm exterior. "Yes," he finally replied, his words measured, "a valuable ally, indeed." But his mind remained troubled, knowing he couldn't ignore these questions forever.