After the meeting concluded, the delegates returned to their respective territories through the fireplaces set into the walls.
The newly formed Fellowship of the Ring remained temporarily in Rivendell, where Gandalf explained the true plan once more.
"So we're not going west to escort the Ring," Boromir asked in surprise, "but secretly heading east into Mordor?"
The other members of the Fellowship were equally shocked upon hearing this.
Gandalf nodded. "The westward plan was released as a smokescreen to mislead Sauron. The fewer who know the truth, the better. The bond between the Ring and Sauron is deepening. The closer the Ring is to him, the easier it becomes for him to sense it."
"Only by drawing Sauron's attention far away from Mordor can you slip inside unnoticed," Gandalf continued, "and finally cast the Ring into Mount Doom."
Sylas then added, "When the time comes, I'll activate a Portkey and send you to Cirith Ungol, the closest point to Mordor that is still outside Sauron's direct perception. Going any deeper would be too dangerous. That land lies fully within his power, any disturbance there could alert him immediately."
Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship were satisfied with this arrangement.
With Sylas's help, they would avoid most of the journey. Otherwise, traveling on foot from Rivendell to the borders of Mordor would have taken thousands of miles, exhausting and fraught with danger at every step.
Far away, in the palace of Minas Tirith, the Steward of Gondor, Denethor II, sat upon the black throne, reading a letter sent by his eldest son, Boromir.
The letter had been written after the council and revealed no true plans. It spoke only of the reappearance of the One Ring and the public decision to send it west to the Blessed Lands.
The news shocked Denethor, and stirred a fleeting, dangerous ambition.
Gondor was weak now, much of its territory lost. Mordor threatened from the east, while raiders from the south struck without cease. Despite all his efforts, Denethor had been unable to restore his kingdom's former strength.
He could not help but think: if he possessed the One Ring, perhaps he could resist Sauron.
Since inheriting the Stewardship, Denethor had watched Gondor decline year by year. Once proud and commanding, his bearing had grown increasingly grim. Only in the presence of his beloved wife and Boromir did the deep lines on his brow ever ease.
But after his wife's health failed following the birth of their second son, Faramir, and she later died, Denethor sealed his heart completely. His grief turned into anger, much of it directed at Faramir.
Now, Denethor II had become stubborn, harsh, and isolated, like a ruler standing alone against the world.
As his eyes moved over the line stating that Boromir had joined the Fellowship and would accompany them westward, his frown deepened even further.
In Denethor II's view, although Valinor was a sacred and divine land, it was a legend far removed from reality and offered Gondor no practical benefit.
He harbored deep distrust, and even resentment, toward the Valar. When his beloved wife died of illness, when Gondor declined year after year, and when disasters struck without end, he had prayed countless times for divine mercy. None of those prayers were ever answered. From then on, Denethor lost faith in gods and outsiders alike, trusting only himself.
Boromir was his most beloved son and his chosen heir. The thought of Boromir risking his life at sea was something Denethor could not accept. Thus, when he read that Boromir had joined the Fellowship of the Ring, he felt displeasure toward his eldest son's decision for the first time.
But when Denethor read further and saw Boromir mention the presence of the Heir of Isildur at the council, his expression darkened completely. A sharp, dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, and old memories resurfaced.
"Is it you… Thorongil?" Denethor murmured, his voice heavy with complexity.
During the reign of his father, Ecthelion II, a young man named Thorongil had come from the north and joined the Gondorian navy. Thorongil led a surprise assault against the Corsairs of Umbar, burning many of their ships and personally slaying the Port Admiral. That victory greatly weakened Gondor's southern threat and earned Thorongil immense prestige within the navy.
Because of this, Thorongil gained Ecthelion II's deep trust and became one of his most valued advisers, offering many insightful strategies that helped Gondor avoid numerous hidden dangers. Denethor noticed him early. Thorongil was well-versed in history, sharp of mind, and, most troubling of all, his bearing and appearance closely resembled the kings of old Gondor.
Denethor's suspicion never faded. Through quiet investigation, he became nearly certain that Thorongil was of royal blood. When Denethor discovered Thorongil's close association with Gandalf, he grew convinced they were plotting to reclaim Gondor's rule.
Thorongil seemed to sense Denethor's hostility and left Gondor before Denethor ascended fully to the Stewardship. Even so, Denethor never relaxed his vigilance and grew openly distrustful of Gandalf thereafter.
In Denethor's eyes, since the extinction of the royal line, it was the Stewards who had preserved Gondor from ruin. For nearly a thousand years, twenty-six generations of Stewards had ruled, protected, and sustained the realm without fail. He would never accept that a northern heir could simply return and claim the power his house had guarded at such cost.
Even though the first Steward had sworn to await the return of the royal bloodline, Denethor II would never acknowledge Aragorn's claim. If that day ever came, he would rather see Gondor burn than bow his head and surrender its rule to Thorongil reborn.
With that thought, Denethor clenched Boromir's letter tightly. His face dark with fury, he rose and ascended alone to the White Tower. Pulling away the black cloth, he revealed the Palantír of Minas Tirith.
He pressed his hands firmly against the smooth stone, his gaze sinking into its depths as images of Gondor unfolded before him. This was not new, Denethor often used the Palantír to monitor his realm, deploy troops, and watch for disasters or enemy movement.
Gandalf had warned him countless times to use the Seeing-stone sparingly. Sauron possessed another Palantír, and through it, the Dark Lord could deceive and corrupt.
But Denethor no longer trusted Gandalf.
Ever since suspecting Gandalf and the northern heir of plotting to reclaim Gondor, Denethor had dismissed every warning. To him, the Palantír was no temptation, it was a necessity. Only by seeing Gondor still firmly under his control could he find even the slightest peace.
What Denethor did not realize was that each time he gazed into the stone, an unseen will gazed back. With every use, the Palantír's influence gnawed deeper into his mind, hardening his thoughts and feeding his growing obsession.
Stubbornness turned to fixation. Sanity thinned. Madness flickered faintly in his eyes.
He became a solitary ruler clutching power, suspicious of all, trusting none.
Far away, in Barad-dûr, Sauron stood before a Palantír the size of a millstone. Within its depths, Denethor's image appeared clearly.
Sauron watched in silence, effortlessly sifting through the Steward's memories.
"The One Ring… at last," the Dark Lord whispered coldly.
"You would send it to Valinor? Fool."
"This time," Sauron said, his will tightening around the stone,
"Darkness will prevail."
...
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