After settling all matters of the castle and school, Sylas gathered everyone, Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Bilbo.
Bilbo, as the former bearer of the One Ring, needed to attend the Council.
Because the Ring could still disrupt magical transport, Floo travel, Apparition, Portkeys, Sylas refused to risk Frodo using any of them.Even with the Light of Eärendil and Basilisk venom suppressing the Ring's aura, the danger was too great.
So Sylas transformed into his phoenix form and personally carried Frodo to Rivendell through phoenix-flame teleportation.
Everyone else traveled by fireplace through the enchanted Floo network straight to the hidden valley.
Rivendell was unchanged.
The flowers on the mountainsides still bloomed in vivid color, untouched by time, ageless, eternal, as if the decades since Sylas had last visited were no more than the blink of an eye to the immortal Elves.
On a white marble terrace deep within the valley, a burst of golden flames swirled into existence.
Elven guards instantly raised their spears and stepped forward, alert.
But when a magnificent phoenix emerged from the fire, all their tension melted away. Their sharp eyes softened, reverence replacing caution.
The phoenix held Frodo gently by the shoulder, circling once above the courtyard while singing a clear, beautiful note, its melody imbued with courage and hope.
In every corner of Rivendell, Elves paused to look upward, faces lit with awe.
Inside his study, Elrond paused mid-writing. Recognizing the song, he looked out the window and smiled.
A graceful, soft-spoken Elf hurried into the courtyard, drawn by the phoenix's voice. As soon as he looked up, recognition blossomed across his face.
"The phoenix's song is unmatched," he said warmly. "Not even the fairest music can equal it.
My friend Sylas, you've brought us quite the surprise."
The phoenix descended, landed lightly, and transformed back into Sylas, who stepped forward with a bright smile and embraced the Elf.
"Lindir! It's been far too long."
Indeed, this was Lindir of Rivendell, Elrond's trusted assistant and minstrel, and an old acquaintance of Sylas.
After the greeting, Lindir turned his gaze to Frodo, gentle, elegant, yet edged with curiosity.
"Sylas, who is this guest you've brought?"
"This is Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's nephew," Sylas replied.
"He carries a heavy burden, and the entire Council will revolve around him."
His voice dropped subtly at the last line.
Lindir froze.
The implication was unmistakable.
The One Ring… is with him.
His pupils tightened, and instinctively he took half a step back.
But Lindir mastered himself, forcing down the urge to retreat. He offered Frodo a courteous smile, though still keeping a respectful distance.
"Welcome, Mr. Frodo Baggins," he said with composed politeness.
Sylas gestured between them.
"Frodo, this is Lindir, trusted emissary and song-master of Lord Elrond, and also, my father-in-law's trusted secretary," Sylas finished.
"He manages much of Rivendell's affairs."
"Ah, hello, Secretary Lindir," Frodo said politely.
Before Lindir could respond, green fire suddenly roared to life in the great white hearth on the terrace wall. One after another, Gandalf, Bilbo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Elseth, and Elroth stepped out of the Floo flames.
"Uncle Lindir!"
The moment Elseth and Elroth saw him, their eyes lit up. The two half-elf children ran toward him in pure delight.
Lindir's expression softened instantly.
"Elseth, Elroth, what are you two doing here?"
"They knew I was coming to Rivendell," Sylas said, chuckling. "And they insisted they missed you."
These two, Sylas and Arwen's children, were beloved everywhere: in Hogwarts, among students and professors alike… and even more so in Rivendell, where their grandfather Elrond, their uncles Elladan and Elrohir, and nearly every Elf in the valley doted on them endlessly.
Because of their half-elven blood, they lacked the aloof reserve common among Elves; instead they shone with warmth, vitality, and unrestrained emotion, like two small suns. Their liveliness was so infectious that people naturally smiled around them.
Elroth, more spirited than her brother, threw her arms around Lindir and declared dramatically:
"Uncle Lindir! Elroth missed you so much! Did you miss Elroth?"
Lindir's smile grew impossibly gentle. He knelt so his face was level with hers.
"Who wouldn't miss our little princess? As it happens, I prepared a fresh batch of spring-blossom Miruvor. I'll let you and Elseth taste it later. How does that sound?"
Elroth's eyes sparkled.
"Good! Thank you, Uncle Lindir!"
Elseth, calmer but no less pleased, couldn't hide the joy in his own eyes.
Miruvor, the Elven cordial brewed in Rivendell, was made from rare flower nectar gathered in the hidden gardens of the valley. Sweet, warm, fragrant, and invigorating, it soothed weariness and restored vitality in moments. Even among Elves it was precious, yet for Elseth and Elroth, nothing was ever lacking. They were often so perfumed by Miruvor's scent that butterflies followed them around.
After greeting Sylas, Gandalf, Legolas, and the others, Lindir took each of the children by the hand.
"Come. Lord Elrond is waiting for you all."
Inside the Hall of Fire at the heart of the Last Homely House, Elrond was already standing as they entered.
"Grandfather!"
Elseth and Elroth broke from Lindir and ran straight into his arms. Elrond's ageless face softened with deep affection as he knelt and gathered the two children close.
He questioned them warmly, asking after their lessons, their mischief, and their health. Only after indulging them with grandfatherly attention did he rise and lift his gaze toward the group entering behind them.
...
Stones Plzz
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