Later that night, the valley of Rivendell lay quiet beneath a clear sky.
The moon hung high above the cliffs, its pale light spilling across the terraces and gardens of the Last Homely House.
"Our business is no concern of elves,"
Thorin Oakenshield said stiffly.
"Oh for goodness' sake, show him the map," Gandalf urged, gripping his staff tightly.
"It is the legacy of my people," Thorin replied firmly. "It is mine to protect."
Gandalf sighed heavily.
"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves."
Nearby, Bilbo Baggins and Mallory stood side by side, quietly observing.
Moonlight streamed through the high windows, reflecting faintly off Mallory's staff. The crystal at its tip glowed softly.
Rowan perched on her shoulder and gave a small, irritated shake of his head, as if equally unimpressed with the dwarves' stubbornness.
Gandalf stepped closer to Thorin.
"You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map," he said firmly.
"Show it to Lord Elrond."
Thorin hesitated.
For a long moment he stood perfectly still.
From the side, Dwalin muttered a quiet "No…"
But Thorin had already made his decision.
Slowly, he handed the map to Elrond.
Elrond accepted it calmly and unfolded the parchment.
He studied it carefully.
Then his eyes widened slightly in recognition.
"Erebor?" he said softly.
His gaze lifted toward Thorin.
"What interest do you have in this map?"
Before Thorin could answer, Gandalf spoke.
"It is mainly… academic," he said smoothly.
He cast Thorin a quick glance that clearly said: Let me handle this.
"You still study ancient Elvish, do you not?" Gandalf continued.
Elrond did not reply.
Instead, he walked toward the balcony where the moonlight shone clearly over the valley of Rivendell.
Holding the map beneath the pale light, he examined it carefully.
Then he spoke quietly in Elvish.
Gandalf's face lit with realization.
"Moon-letters… of course," the wizard murmured.
He turned toward Bilbo and Mallory with a small, playful smile.
"Easy to miss."
Elrond turned back toward the company.
"They are runes written with a special silver ink," he explained. "Visible only when the same moon shines upon them that shone the night they were written."
The company gathered around a smooth stone table near the edge of the terrace.
Below them, waterfalls shimmered silver beneath the night sky.
Elrond placed the map upon the pale stone.
Moonlight washed across the parchment.
Slowly…
Faint glowing words began to appear.
Silver runes spread across the surface of the map.
Even Thorin's stern expression softened slightly as he watched.
Elrond read the words carefully.
"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks…"
He paused before continuing.
"…and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."
A thoughtful silence followed.
Mallory tilted her head.
"What is Durin's Day?"
Gandalf answered calmly.
"It marks the start of the dwarves' new year," he explained. "When the last sun of autumn and the first moon of winter share the sky together."
Thorin folded his arms.
"Durin's Day is near."
Dwalin nodded.
"We still have time."
Elrond looked at them carefully.
"So this is your purpose?" he asked quietly.
"To enter the mountain."
"What of it?" Thorin replied coolly.
Elrond's expression grew more serious.
"Some would not deem such a quest wise."
Gandalf frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Elrond leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but grave.
"You are not the only guardians who watch over Middle-earth."
Then, without another word, he turned and strode toward the doorway, disappearing into the halls beyond.
The company stood in uneasy silence beneath the moonlight.
———
Far to the south, in the shadowed ruins of Dol Guldur, a lone orc crept through the broken halls of the ancient tower.
The stone walls were cracked and blackened with age. Cold mist clung to the ground like a living thing.
Wargs prowled through the darkness, their yellow eyes glowing as they watched the trembling messenger.
Low snarls rumbled in their throats.
The orc swallowed nervously as he stepped deeper into the ruined chamber.
Then—
A deep, guttural snarl echoed through the hall.
The wargs immediately fell silent.
Slowly… a massive white warg stepped forward from the shadows.
Its fur was pale as bone, its teeth long and jagged.
Perched beside the beast stood a towering figure.
Scarred.
Broad.
Terrifying.
The orc froze.
The figure turned.
His skin was pale and marked with old battle scars.
Where one hand should have been, three cruel iron hooks gleamed in the dim firelight.
It was Azog the Defiler.
The orc bowed his head and spoke in the harsh tongue of the Black Speech.
"The dwarves… master," he rasped.
"…we lost them."
The wargs shifted impatiently.
"We were ambushed by elves," the orc continued nervously.
"We wer—"
"I do not want excuses."
Azog's voice was low and deadly.
The chamber fell silent.
The orc trembled.
"Th-there is something else, master," he stammered.
Azog's cold eyes narrowed.
"A woman."
He hesitated.
"Dressed in dark robes… with horns."
The wargs growled softly.
"She used magic," the orc continued. "Dark magic."
"She was… too powerful."
For a long moment, Azog said nothing.
Then a slow, cruel grin spread across his scarred face.
"Dark magic… you say?"
The orc nodded desperately.
"I barely escaped with my life—"
Azog stepped forward.
Slowly.
Calmly.
"Far better if you had paid for it."
The orc barely had time to scream.
Azog's hooked hand seized him by the throat and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
For a brief moment, the unfortunate creature kicked helplessly.
Then Azog flung him aside.
The wargs lunged instantly.
Their snarls filled the chamber as they tore into their prey.
Azog watched without emotion.
When the feeding frenzy ended, he turned toward the dark doorway of the tower.
"Hunt them down," he growled.
"Bring me the head of Thorin Oakenshield."
He paused.
His eyes gleamed with interest.
"And bring me the head of the horned woman."
A low, eager growl rose from the wargs.
Far away, the hunt had begun again.
———
Back in the valley of Rivendell, the company had gathered beside a small fire they had built for themselves.
The dwarves preferred their own cooking, even among the elegant halls of the elves.
Meat sizzled over the flames as the smell of roasting food filled the cool night air.
Laughter rose among them.
Nearby, Bofur picked up a freshly cooked sausage and lifted it toward his mouth.
But before he could take a bite, he spotted Bombur sitting nearby on a small wooden stool, happily eating away.
"Bombur!" Bofur called out.
Without hesitation, he tossed the sausage toward him.
Bombur caught it easily.
But the moment he leaned back in triumph—
CRACK.
The stool gave way beneath him.
Bombur collapsed backward onto the ground with a heavy thud.
For a brief moment there was stunned silence.
Then the entire company burst into laughter.
Even Bilbo Baggins struggled to contain his amusement.
Perched on a nearby stone ledge, Rowan let out a sharp caw that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Kili and Fili had grown particularly fond of the crow.
After Rowan's help earlier, the two dwarves occasionally fed him small scraps of food.
Rowan accepted them proudly.
Meanwhile, away from the fire and laughter, Gandalf, Elrond, and Mallory walked together along a quiet stone path.
Moonlight spilled across the terraces of Rivendell.
Mallory's staff tapped lightly against the ground as she walked beside them.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
Elrond glanced toward her.
"To attend a council," he replied calmly.
His expression grew thoughtful.
"And I believe it concerns you as well."
Mallory blinked in surprise.
"Me?"
Beside her, Gandalf gave a small knowing smile.
"Indeed."
Ahead of them, soft lights glowed within one of Rivendell's ancient halls.
Within its walls waited voices far older—and far wiser—than most in Middle-earth.
And tonight…
Mallory would be the subject of their discussion.
———
The halls of Rivendell grew quieter as the night deepened.
Moonlight spilled through tall arched windows as Elrond, Gandalf, and Mallory entered one of the ancient chambers hidden deep within the house.
The room was circular, carved from pale stone.
Tall pillars rose toward the domed ceiling, and soft lanterns illuminated a long table of polished marble.
Two figures were already waiting.
One stood tall and robed in white, his presence commanding and severe.
The other sat quietly beside the window, bathed in silver moonlight.
Elrond stopped beside the table.
"We have arrived," he said calmly.
The robed figure turned.
It was Saruman.
His sharp eyes immediately settled on Mallory.
"You have brought… a guest," he said coldly.
Before Gandalf could answer, the seated figure rose gracefully.
Her presence seemed almost to glow in the moonlight.
Galadriel stepped forward.
Her gaze rested gently on Mallory.
Mallory suddenly felt as though her thoughts were being quietly examined.
Yet there was no hostility in it.
Only curiosity.
"Peace," Galadriel said softly.
Her voice was calm and melodic.
"I sense no malice within her."
Saruman folded his hands behind his back.
"That remains to be seen."
He turned toward Gandalf.
"You called this council to discuss troubling matters," Saruman said. "Yet you arrive with… distractions."
Gandalf leaned slightly on his staff.
"There is no distraction here," he replied calmly.
"She is involved whether we wish it or not."
Elrond nodded thoughtfully.
"I have witnessed her magic myself," he said. "It is unusual… yet powerful."
Saruman's gaze narrowed slightly.
"What kind of magic?"
Mallory shifted awkwardly under the attention of such powerful figures.
Her staff glowed faintly beside her.
"Well…" she said nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Mostly lightning. Some vines. Occasionally turning my friend into a horse."
Silence filled the chamber.
Then Gandalf coughed.
Galadriel smiled faintly.
Saruman did not look amused.
"We are not gathered here to discuss parlour tricks," he said sharply.
'Wow quite rude for a man of wisdom.'
Gandalf's expression hardened slightly.
"Then let us speak plainly."
He reached into his robe and placed a wrapped cloth onto the table.
Elrond recognized it immediately.
Slowly, Gandalf unwrapped the object.
The pale blade gleamed in the lantern light.
A cold chill seemed to fill the chamber.
Saruman leaned forward slightly.
"A Morgul Blade."
Elrond nodded gravely.
"It was found in Dol Guldur."
Galadriel's expression grew serious.
"The shadow grows."
Gandalf looked toward the others.
"There is a sorcerer there," he said quietly.
"They call him… the Necromancer."
Saruman waved his hand dismissively.
"A nameless shadow," he said.
"Nothing more."
But Galadriel did not look convinced.
Her gaze drifted back toward Mallory.
"You felt it too, did you not?" she asked softly.
Mallory blinked.
"Well… yeah. Kind of"
She hesitated.
"It felt… wrong."
The room fell silent again.
Saruman's eyes narrowed slightly.
Something about Mallory clearly unsettled him.
At last he spoke again.
"The council will investigate this… Necromancer in time."
He turned toward Gandalf.
"But your dwarf quest is reckless."
Gandalf simply smiled.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure."
Outside the chamber windows, the wind stirred through the valley.
Far away, beyond the mountains…
Something dark had already begun to move.
The council chamber slowly emptied.
Saruman departed first, his white robes sweeping behind him as he strode out without another glance at Mallory.
Soon after, Elrond and Gandalf followed, continuing their quiet discussion as they disappeared down the corridor.
The chamber fell silent.
Mallory remained near the stone railing overlooking the valley of Rivendell.
Moonlight bathed the waterfalls below in silver light while the night wind drifted gently through the open arches.
She exhaled slowly, gripping her staff as it tapped once against the marble floor.
Behind her, soft footsteps approached.
Mallory turned.
Galadriel stood by the tall window, her pale robes glowing faintly in the moonlight.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Galadriel stepped closer.
"You were troubled by what was said," she said gently.
Mallory hesitated before answering.
"He called me a creature, not that is anything wrong after all, I am different"
Galadriel regarded her calmly.
"Saruman fears what he does not understand."
Mallory looked toward the distant mountains beyond the valley.
"I helped Gandalf. I helped the dwarves," she said quietly. "Yet the first thing he sees is something wrong with me."
Galadriel studied her for a moment longer.
"You carry power that is unfamiliar to this age," she said.
Mallory lowered her gaze slightly.
"I never asked for it. Nor did I choose to be here"
Galadriel moved beside her at the railing, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes.
"There is great light within you," she said.
"But there is also another power that even you do not yet fully know."
Mallory tightened her grip on her staff.
"What does that mean?"
Galadriel's voice softened.
"It means the shadow rising in Dol Guldur may one day take interest in you."
A quiet wind passed through the chamber.
Mallory stood silently for a moment.
"Then I suppose I should be ready," she said.
Galadriel's expression warmed faintly.
"You will not face such things alone."
She turned toward the doorway.
"The world is changing," she added softly.
"And even the smallest choices may shape what is to come."
With that, Galadriel departed, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Mallory remained on the balcony, gazing across the moonlit valley of Rivendell, the sound of waterfalls echoing quietly through the night.
The chamber had grown quiet once more.
Moments later, Gandalf stepped inside, pausing briefly at the doorway.
As he entered, he exchanged a knowing glance with Galadriel as she passed by him in the hall.
Then he approached Mallory.
"We should get going," Gandalf said, resting both hands upon his staff. "If we intend to catch up with Thorin."
Mallory raised a brow.
"What do you mean?"
Before Gandalf could answer, the beating of wings echoed through the open arches.
Rowan swooped down from the night sky and landed nearby, feathers ruffling as he let out a sharp caw.
Mallory lifted her hand slightly.
"Into a man," she said softly.
Golden light shimmered around Rowan's body. Feathers dissolved into light, stretching and reshaping until a man stood where the bird had been.
Rowan steadied himself before speaking.
"The dwarves have already left."
Mallory slowly turned toward Gandalf.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"You knew?"
For a moment, Gandalf said nothing.
Then he sighed and rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
"I suspected," he admitted at last.
Mallory folded her arms.
"And you didn't think to mention it?"
Gandalf gave a small shrug, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Thorin Oakenshield is not a man easily persuaded," he said. "The longer we delayed, the more determined he would have been to leave without us."
He tapped the end of his staff lightly against the stone floor.
"Still," he added, glancing toward the open valley of Rivendell, "I had hoped to finish our business before they slipped away."
Rowan crossed his arms.
"They've got a head start."
Gandalf's eyes gleamed beneath the brim of his hat.
"Then we had best not keep them waiting."
"What about Bilbo?" Mallory asked.
Bilbo Baggins had not been far from the dwarves since the journey began, and the thought of him wandering the wilds without them made her uneasy.
Gandalf gave a small nod.
"He's with them."
Mallory let out a slow breath.
"Then let's get going," Mallory said firmly. "I don't want my friend getting hurt."
With a small motion of her hand, she raised her staff.
Golden light gathered softly at its crystal tip.
"Back you go," she murmured.
The light flowed around Rowan's body, shrinking and reshaping him until feathers replaced skin and bone.
In a blink, the man was gone, and a sleek black crow perched where he had stood.
Rowan ruffled his wings and gave a sharp caw.
Mallory gestured toward the open sky.
"Please, Rowan" she said. "Find them. Keep watch."
The crow launched into the air, wings cutting through the cool night breeze as he flew out over the valley of Rivendell, disappearing beyond the waterfalls and moonlit cliffs.
Mallory lowered her staff and turned toward Gandalf.
"Well," she said, adjusting her grip on the staff, "no point standing around."
Gandalf nodded, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes.
"Quite right," he said. "We have a company to catch."