[300 powerstones Bonus chapter]
- - - - - - - - -
The four towns beyond the forest, and those boundless fields stretching like a sea of green, were but the outer ring of the royal city.
Only when the host set foot within the Ashenwood Forest did they truly enter the inner precincts of the Kingdom.
The road wound ever deeper, bending and climbing with the lay of the land. The company of more than twenty thousand stretched long as a serpent coiling through the trees.
Above, hundreds of thousands of white birds, under the command of Artemis, descended into the forest. There they would make their nests, rest, and multiply.
Spring had wakened the Ashenwood Forest with life abundant. No heavy hand of man had marred it, and beasts and birds roamed freely among its glades. Elves lifted their voices in song, filling the woods with beauty. Joy welled in them, banishing all weariness of the long road.
Deeper still they came into a mist-veiled region. Passing through, they beheld four towers of white stone, tall and fair, rising upon mountain peaks at the heart of the forest.
"Those are the Watchtowers," said their guides, "standing upon the cliffs about Elarothiel. At night their beacons blaze, guiding all who dwell within the hidden vale."
On the third day within the forest they reached the eastern tower. A hundred soldiers garrisoned there blew long notes upon their horns when they beheld the King's return.
Yet the gate of the valley—the Obsidian Gate—was in the south. So Kaen led his host onward, circling the cliffs along narrow roads. They longed to gaze from above upon Elarothiel entire, but the vale was veiled in cloud.
In the ten months of Kaen's absence the masons had labored upon the cliffs, smoothing the walls until they were unclimbable, and engraving runes to conceal the valley's heart from prying eyes.
At last they came before the Obsidian Gate: a wall one hundred meters wide and fifty high, wrought of black basalt and etched with endless runes. There the ministers of the realm had already gathered with the people, awaiting their lord.
There stood Minister of Administration Jack, Minister of Justice Araphor, Minister of Foreign Affairs Will, Minister of Oversight Hubert, Minister of Finance Tifa, Chief Architect Joanna, and Royal Chief Smith Alante—all gazing in eager expectation.
When the horns sounded, their faces lit with joy.
Maidens stood in array, lifting their voices in song:
"As the sun he returns from the East,
His wains are laden with treasure,
He brings with him fair Elves,
Clad in radiance, white birds wheeling above,
Under the blessing of the Powers,
In the hope of his people,
Riding a white steed he comes,
We hail the King triumphant!"
Petals drifted down from the gate's walls, bright and beautiful. The officers and the folk fell to one knee, hearts full of reverence.
"Rise," Kaen said with a smile. "Ten months I have been away, and you have borne the burden. The kingdom's growth I have seen with my own eyes along the road. You have done well."
"All for Eowenría!" they answered as one.
Kaen nodded, satisfied. "Now, open the Obsidian Gate. Let me behold again the capital from which I have been sundered a year, and see what it has become."
"As you command!"
The gates, poured of mithril and other rare metals, swung slowly open. And at last, Elarothiel lay revealed once more.
Within the vale, the grass was green, the beasts roamed and the birds wheeled. Sunlight streamed, the breeze was cool, the sky bright with cloud and bloom.
Far off, a mighty city gleamed like a white jewel set in the earth. Its walls rose high and fair, towers multiplied within, and all shone radiant beneath the sun.
Along the wide white road, fountains played on either side, each crowned with statues of the realm's great. To the left, beneath willow trees, stood effigies of ministers and men of craft; to the right, beneath maples, those of generals and masters of war.
Halfway down the way lay a vast square, in whose midst a platform rose many fathoms high. Thereon was wrought a statue of the King in armor upon his steed, trampling troll and orc beneath him, his sword raised aloft.
Around the square thirty-six stone pillars towered, each carved with the great deeds and moments of the kingdom.
Beyond lay arches overgrown with moss and vine, and beyond them walls thirty meters high of spotless white. As the gates opened, the city within was revealed: streets clean and straight, paved in white stone, edged in marble.
There lay markets, dwellings, and workshops, all set with order. The citizens thronged the ways, strewing flowers and singing, hailing their King.
At the city's heart lay a lake: by day called the Mirror of the Sky, by night the Lake of Stars and Moon. About it were the halls of government: administration, treasury, law, oversight, healing, runecraft, building—all the pillars of the realm.
Across the lake stretched a bridge of white stone, flower-strewn, leading to the foot of King's Hill.
Ascending its steps of green stone, one came to the white palace: the royal seat. Before it a fountain leapt high; behind it spread gardens in bloom. From here the King might survey the whole of Elarothiel.
When Kaen came to the mountain's foot, the lake's shores, the bridge, and the slopes were thronged. Eighty thousand stood waiting, Elves and Men—his people.
They halted, watching as Kaen mounted the steps alone, rising higher with each pace.
He looked down upon them all, and slowly drew his sword.
No speech was given, no tale told, no music played. He stood in silence, yet his body blazed with light, casting radiance over the city.
"Praise to Kaen Eowenríel!"
The cry rang out, and all the people fell to their knees, their eyes alight with devotion.
Gandalf and Bilbo exchanged a glance. To kneel or not they knew not. In the end, they bowed low, in reverence.