The morning came with mist.
Grey fog clung to the hills surrounding the abandoned shepherd's hut, muffling every sound. Dew covered the grass, and somewhere in the distance a raven called.
I had barely slept.
Not because of the cold.
Nor because I'd died.
My thoughts simply refused to rest.
Eventually, I looked across the dying embers.
Celebrimbor was already awake.
Or perhaps he had never slept.
I wasn't entirely certain spirits could.
"There is something I've been wondering."
The Elf-Lord opened his eyes.
"Ask."
I hesitated.
Then decided there was little point in dancing around the question.
"You forged the Rings of Power."
His expression remained unreadable.
"I did."
"You forged the New Ring."
"Yes."
I poked at the ashes with a stick.
"So..."
"What would you need to make another?"
Silence.
A long silence.
Celebrimbor stared at me.
Not surprised.
Simply...
Studying me.
"An unusual question."
"I know."
"Most men would ask for a sword."
"I already know how to use one."
Another pause.
Finally, he spoke.
"You understand what you ask?"
"I think so."
"No."
His voice was calm.
"You do not."
Celebrimbor walked toward the doorway, looking out across the mist-covered Riverlands.
"The Great Rings were not merely crafted."
"They were created."
"There is a difference."
I frowned.
"What difference?"
He picked up a weathered stone from the floor.
It passed through his ghostly fingers and fell back to the ground.
"Any smith may shape metal."
"Few can shape power."
He looked back at me.
"The Rings were vessels."
"Their purpose was determined before the first strike of the hammer."
I nodded slowly.
"So..."
"What do you need?"
He counted them off one by one.
"A master smith."
"I expected that."
"A forge worthy of the task."
"Harder. but i have an idea"
"Materials beyond ordinary steel and gold."
I frowned.
"What kind of materials?"
His expression grew distant.
"In my world..."
"Mithril."
"Gold untouched by corruption."
"Silver worthy of preserving enchantment."
"Gemstones capable of holding immense power."
He paused.
"And above all..."
His voice became almost solemn.
"...time."
"How much time?"
"Years."
I blinked.
"...Years?"
"The Three Elven Rings required decades of labor."
My shoulders slumped.
"I was hoping for weeks."
For the first time in days...
Celebrimbor chuckled.
"You are ambitious."
"I've been told worse."
I remained silent for a while, turning over everything Celebrimbor had said.
A master smith.
A forge.
Precious metals.
Power.
Years of work.
Then...
A thought surfaced from memories that weren't truly mine.
"Actually..."
Celebrimbor looked up.
"You have an idea."
"Maybe."
I knelt beside the fire and drew another map in the dirt.
Not Westeros this time.
The eastern coast of the known world.
Across the Narrow Sea.
I pointed to a long peninsula stretching into the Summer Sea.
"Have you ever heard of Valyria?"
Celebrimbor studied the drawing.
"No."
"It was an empire."
"The greatest this world has ever known."
"Long before Aegon conquered Westeros."
His interest visibly sharpened.
"Go on."
"They mastered dragons."
"They forged weapons unlike any seen before or since."
"They shaped roads that still haven't crumbled after four hundred years."
"They built cities from fused black stone."
"They practiced blood magic."
I paused.
"And then..."
"They vanished."
Celebrimbor frowned.
"Vanished?"
"In a single day."
"Their homeland erupted."
"Mountains exploded."
"The earth split apart."
"The sea swallowed cities."
"The event became known as..."
"The Doom."
The Elf-Lord was quiet.
"A civilization destroyed by its own power."
"That's the common belief."
I continued drawing.
"Almost no one goes there anymore."
"Ships disappear."
"Sailors speak of monsters."
"Strange mists."
"Curses."
"Some claim dragons still nest among the ruins."
Celebrimbor crouched beside the map.
His glowing fingers hovered above the peninsula.
"And you believe what remains could aid us?"
"I don't know."
"But if anywhere in this world held knowledge comparable to yours..."
"It would be Old Valyria."
He considered my words carefully.
"You said they forged exceptional weapons."
"They did."
"Valyrian steel."
"I've seen it."
"There aren't many blades left."
"They're sharper, stronger, and they never seem to lose their edge."
I looked at him.
"They're also rumored to have been forged with spells."
That made him pause.
"Magic woven into steel."
"Exactly."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Interesting."
"I don't know if they ever made Rings."
"They probably didn't."
"But..."
I shrugged.
"If we're looking for a forge capable of creating something extraordinary..."
"...the greatest civilization of magic this world has ever known seems like a good place to start."
Celebrimbor remained silent for several moments.
Long enough that I wondered if I'd said something foolish.
Finally...
"No."
I blinked.
"No?"
He looked directly at me.
"You are thinking like a smith."
"I am?"
A faint smile appeared.
"You seek the greatest forge."
"The greatest craftsmen."
"The greatest surviving knowledge."
He nodded slowly.
"That is precisely where I would begin."
I couldn't help smiling.
"So..."
"It's not a terrible idea?"
"It is an extremely dangerous one."
He looked back toward the east.
"Which often accompanies excellent ideas."
I chuckled.
"Damon always said my plans were either brilliant or suicidal."
"Which was this?"
"I usually found out afterward."
Even Celebrimbor laughed quietly.
It was still strange hearing that sound.
The laughter faded.
His expression became serious once more.
"There is one concern."
"What?"
"You possess knowledge of this world's history that few men should."
"I know."
"How?"
I hesitated.
Then sighed.
"I suppose you'll have to know eventually."
Celebrimbor waited patiently.
"I wasn't born in this world."
His expression didn't change.
"I remember another life."
"A different world."
"My first world."
"The one where I learned about you."
Silence.
"I know about Valyria."
"I know about Robert Baratheon."
"I know about the White Walkers."
"I know names, places, and events..."
"...because, where I came from..."
"...this world existed as a story."
For the first time since we'd met...
Celebrimbor looked genuinely stunned.
He stared at me for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, he spoke.
"Then perhaps..."
His voice was almost a whisper.
"...neither of us truly belongs here."
I looked toward the eastern horizon.
Where, far beyond the Narrow Sea...
The smoking ruins of Old Valyria waited.
Morning mist still clung to the Riverlands as Talion and Celebrimbor left the ruined shepherd's hut.
The air smelled of wet earth and pine.
Somewhere beyond the trees, the Kingsroad stretched north toward the Inn at the Crossroads.
Talion never looked in that direction.
Not once.
If he did...
He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep walking.
Instead, he headed west, following game trails instead of roads.
Celebrimbor drifted silently beside him.
For nearly an hour neither of them spoke.
They continued walking.
The forest gradually became denser.
Ancient oaks towered overhead.
Thick undergrowth covered the forest floor.
Celebrimbor suddenly spoke.
"You intend to travel to Valyria."
"Eventually."
"It lies across the Narrow Sea."
"I know."
"You possess neither horse nor coin."
"I know."
"Nor provisions."
"I know."
The Elf-Lord looked almost amused.
"Your plan appears incomplete."
Talion laughed.
"That's because I'm starting with the first problem."
Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow.
"Which is?"
"I need a mount."
They walked in silence for another few minutes before Celebrimbor asked,
"Will you steal one?"
Talion stopped.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm still a knight."
Celebrimbor looked at him.
"You are a dead man."
"I'm both."
Talion smiled faintly.
"Damon spent eight years teaching me what being a knight meant."
"I'm not throwing that away because someone shot me."
The Elf-Lord gave a slow nod.
"Your mentor was wise."
"He is."
Talion corrected himself.
"He still is."
They reached the banks of the Trident shortly before midday.
Talion looked across the familiar waters.
His expression changed.
Celebrimbor noticed immediately.
"You have been here before."
"Yesterday."
His voice was quiet.
"This is where Arya threw Joffrey's sword into the river."
Celebrimbor looked around.
"And?"
Talion's eyes drifted toward the dense woodland nearby.
"Arya chased Nymeria into these woods."
"The direwolf."
Celebrimbor nodded.
"The great wolf that bit the prince."
"Yes."
Talion suddenly smiled.
"I know exactly where to find my mount."
Talion stopped at the riverbank.
Celebrimbor noticed immediately.
"Something troubles you."
"Not troubles."
I looked across the gently flowing waters.
"Something I forgot."
The Trident moved lazily beneath the afternoon sun.
To anyone else...
It was simply a river.
To me...
It held something far more valuable.
I pointed toward a stretch of water near an overhanging willow.
"Arya threw Prince Joffrey's sword in there."
Celebrimbor looked at the river.
"The prince's weapon?"
I nodded.
"I watched it sink."
His eyes narrowed.
"And no one recovered it?"
"They searched."
"They were too busy looking for Mycah."
"And afterward..."
I shrugged.
"The royal party had other concerns."
"The sword was probably forgotten."
Celebrimbor regarded the river thoughtfully.
"Then retrieve it."
I smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
The water was colder than I expected.
I waded in until it reached my waist.
The current tugged at my legs as I searched the muddy riverbed with my feet.
Nothing.
Only stones.
Another step.
Another.
Still nothing.
Minutes passed.
Celebrimbor watched silently from the shore.
"You are relying heavily upon memory."
"I know where she threw it."
"Do you?"
"...Mostly."
The Elf gave the faintest hint of amusement.
Nearly twenty minutes later...
My foot struck metal.
I froze.
"There."
I knelt beneath the surface, plunging both hands into the mud.
The object refused to move.
Buried.
I dug around it with my fingers.
Mud clouded the water.
Then...
The hilt came free.
A golden lion's head emerged from the riverbed.
Even coated in mud, it was unmistakable.
I lifted the sword into the sunlight.
Water streamed from the polished blade.
The gilded crossguard caught the afternoon light.
Celebrimbor stepped closer.
His eyes immediately examined the craftsmanship.
"Well balanced."
He reached out instinctively before remembering he could not touch it.
"Castle-forged."
"Not Valyrian steel."
I swung it experimentally.
The blade cut smoothly through the air.
"No."
"But far better than what most hedge knights carry."
I wiped the mud from the lion pommel.
The crimson rubies set into its eyes still gleamed.
I laughed quietly.
"Joffrey is going to be furious if he ever learns who ended up with his sword."
Celebrimbor looked almost confused.
"Does that amuse you?"
"Immensely."
I carried the sword back to the shore and cleaned it carefully with handfuls of river water.
Unlike the blade Damon had given me...
This one carried no memories.
No oaths.
No promises.
It belonged to no one now.
Not to Prince Joffrey.
Not to House Baratheon.
Not to House Lannister.
Simply...
To whoever had been willing to climb into a river to claim it.
I slid the blade into its ornate scabbard.
Celebrimbor watched thoughtfully.
"You left behind the sword of Ser Talion Rivers."
"I did."
"And now you carry the sword of a prince."
I shook my head.
"No."
I fastened the scabbard to my belt.
"I carry the sword of a dead boy who thought himself a king."
Celebrimbor looked at me for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"A better answer."
With a serviceable blade once more at his side, Talion turned away from the Trident and disappeared into the forest.
There, somewhere beneath the ancient oaks, the great direwolf Nymeria was waiting.
Hours passed.
The forest grew quieter.
Almost unnaturally so.
Talion noticed first.
"No birds."
Celebrimbor nodded.
"A predator."
Talion smiled.
"Exactly."
He knelt.
Fresh paw prints.
Far larger than any ordinary wolf.
"They're recent."
He followed them deeper into the woods.
Broken branches.
A deer carcass.
Half-eaten.
Still warm.
Celebrimbor observed the remains.
"She's nearby."
The hairs on the back of Talion's neck suddenly stood on end.
He stopped.
Celebrimbor stopped beside him.
Neither spoke.
They simply listened.
Leaves rustled.
Not from the wind.
From movement.
Behind them.
Talion slowly turned.
Nothing.
Then
A grey shape slipped between two trees.
Gone again.
Fast.
Almost impossibly fast.
Celebrimbor's eyes followed it.
"Impressive."
Talion smiled.
"I know."
Another movement.
This time to their left.
Then their right.
She was circling them.
Testing them.
Watching.
Talion slowly lowered himself onto one knee.
Celebrimbor looked at him.
"You expose your throat?"
"I'm showing I don't want a fight."
The Elf-Lord remained silent.
Talion rested both hands on the ground.
A low growl echoed through the trees.
Then...
She appeared.
Nymeria.
She stepped from the undergrowth like a ghost.
Grey fur.
Golden eyes.
Massive.
She was already larger than most horses at the shoulder, though she had not yet reached her full size.
Celebrimbor stared openly.
Even the ancient Elf-Lord looked impressed.
"Magnificent."
Nymeria's gaze never left Talion.
She recognized him.
Not as a friend.
But as the knight who had stood between Arya and Joffrey.
The knight who had told the truth before the king.
Talion spoke softly.
"I remember you."
The great wolf's ears twitched.
"I was there."
"I saw what happened."
"I know why Arya sent you away."
Nymeria took one cautious step forward.
Then another.
Celebrimbor remained perfectly still.
"She understands more than words."
"I know."
Talion smiled gently.
"And I think..."
He slowly extended an empty hand.
"...she understands people."
The direwolf sniffed the air.
Her golden eyes narrowed.
Then...
To Celebrimbor's surprise...
She walked directly up to Talion.
She sniffed his hand.
Paused.
Then pressed her enormous head gently against his shoulder.
Celebrimbor's eyes widened.
"She senses me."
Talion looked at him.
"You think so?"
The Elf-Lord nodded slowly.
"Not me alone."
He looked at the direwolf with newfound respect.
"She senses that death has already claimed you..."
"...and that something older walks beside you."
Nymeria gave a soft huff but did not retreat.
Instead, she sat beside Talion, watching him with calm, intelligent eyes.
Talion scratched behind one of her ears.
"I hope she rides better than an horse"
Nymeria sneezed directly into his face.
Celebrimbor, to Talion's astonishment, let out a quiet laugh.