When Lord Elrond's final words faded, the council chamber sank into utter silence.
From beyond the tall arched windows came the faint flutter of birds and the sigh of the wind, sounds made sharp and hollow in the vastness of the hall.
Neither Elven-king nor King of Men, nor even the Dwarf-lords themselves, dared draw a breath. They glanced at one another, and in each pair of eyes was mirrored the same disbelief.
What is shock, if not that which exceeds even the wildest bounds of one's imagining after all preparations have been made?
Had Elrond declared that this council was called to march upon Mordor itself, none would have been so moved.
But the Valar revealing themselves, Elves of Aman to return eastward across the sea, such tidings defied all reason.
"Elrond!" cried Galadriel, the first to find her voice. Rising in a sweep of silver robes, her countenance shone with disbelief. "You never spoke to us of this before…"
Elrond inclined his head gravely. "Forgive me. It was by the wish of Kaen and Arwen that secrecy be kept. The matter is perilous and vast. I feared that a whisper might reach the Enemy's ear. Have you not noticed, my friends, this hall itself is warded?"
At his words, many looked about and saw it to be true. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, even the long table before them—each was etched with countless runes, shimmering faintly like starlight upon still water.
"These," said Elrond, "are wards against the seeing-stones. Kaen believes Sauron still holds one, and so I prepared measures to counter his gaze."
Slowly, the lords and kings recovered from their astonishment.
Then Thengel, King of Rohan, rose to speak, his voice low but firm. "Whether or not the Elves of Aman return, I say this plainly, I cannot permit a strange power to dwell within the Fangorn Forest. My duty is to the safety of my people."
By strange power he meant the Avari, those untamed Elves of the East who sought to journey westward.
Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor, frowned deeply. He did not look to Elrond but fixed his gaze upon Kaen. "Your Majesty," he said, "what are we to do with these Elves who migrate west? Where are they to dwell?"
Kaen's tone was calm as still water. "They will build a realm upon the western continent."
Ecthelion's eyes narrowed. "And our kin in the North? The scattered Dúnedain—what of them?"
He spoke of the lost folk of Arnor, remnants of an era long gone.
Kaen's reply was cold and clear. "You, better than any, know the truth: Arnor has lain in ruin for a thousand years. Even were the Elves not to come, the fate of your northern kin would remain unchanged. You have not the power to alter it."
Ecthelion fell silent. His heart ached, for Kaen's words were bitter but true.
Even if the Elves of Aman never set foot upon Middle-earth, Arnor would not rise again.
And yet, he could not yield to that truth.
For once, all the western lands beyond Lindon had belonged to Arnor. To surrender them now to Elves returning from across the sea was gall to his spirit.
He remembered the old days,the twin realms of Arnor and Gondor, strong as steel, bright as the morning sun. In those days, save for the Elves of Lindon, none in Middle-earth could stand against the Dúnedain.
But centuries had devoured their glory. The Last Alliance had left the kingdoms broken, their strength bled upon the plains of Mordor.
Gondor had risen again and fallen, like the tide. Arnor had fared worse: divided by pride, crushed by the Witch-king's malice, and scattered to the wind.
Its people dwindled to a remnant. And now, even their forgotten lands might be claimed by others.
Ecthelion bowed his head. "Your Majesty," he said at last, "I speak not for Gondor's gain, but for the honor of our northern kin. We Dúnedain have lost our kings; they have lost even their kingdom. I cannot watch them be robbed of the last soil upon which their forefathers walked."
...
Thengel added, "I have faith in the Elves of Lothlórien, in Thranduil's Woodland Realm, and in your Caladhîn Elves, Lord Kaen. Yet to place a tribe of strangers—the Avari, who are said to be untamed—upon my border, forgive me, but that I cannot accept."
At his words, silence fell anew.
Thorin and Dáin exchanged glances but held their tongues, as did Bard of Dale. For their realms lay far from Fangorn and across the mountains, the quarrel of Elves and Men was not theirs to settle.
But the Elven-lords spoke out in turn, standing firm against Thengel and Ecthelion. They pleaded for their kin's return, for a haven where their people might rest once more beneath the trees.
And the kings of Men stood firm for their own kind, unwilling to yield the safety of their folk to any other.
The rising voices of contention clashed like steel in the hall, until Kaen himself stood, his bearing commanding all attention.
The murmurs ceased. Every eye turned toward him.
He stepped forward, and with grave courtesy bowed deeply to King Thengel and Steward Ecthelion.
Such respect from the High King ofEowenría startled them both; they rose quickly to return the gesture.
Kaen drew a long breath and spoke:
"I understand your fears. The westward march of the Avari to Fangorn, the eastward return of the Elves of Aman, both are matters heavy upon the hearts of Men. Yet this council was not called to favor any single race, but to unite all free peoples in resolving these two great tides of fate.
"No matter what we say within these walls, the Avari will journey west, and the Elves of Aman will cross eastward. The wheel of the Age moves on, and none may stand against it. Our task is not to resist, but to find the path by which all may yet endure in harmony."
His words fell with quiet force, and one by one the kings grew still in thought.
Indeed, what use was argument against the turning of destiny itself?
Whether in anger or reason, nothing they said could halt what had already been set in motion. The Avari would come. The Valar's decree would not be undone.
Only Elrond, Gandalf, and Saruman seemed untroubled, watching Kaen with knowing eyes.
They, more than any, understood what it meant when Kaen rose to speak. For he never stood without purpose and never gambled without holding the stronger hand.
Dáin, following Gandalf's gaze, peered at Kaen and seemed suddenly to grasp some thought. He leaned toward Thorin and whispered, "Do you think he's already found a way to settle this?"
"Could be," Thorin murmured. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"
"I will," said Dáin at once.
Blunt and forthright as ever, the Dwarf-king turned to Kaen and boomed across the hall, "My King, you're the cleverest of us all! Surely you've a way out of this tangle. If you do, speak it now, save us from this endless fretting!"
Laughter and expectancy rippled faintly through the chamber. All eyes returned once more to Kaen.
He stood silent for a moment, gaze calm and unwavering, then said simply, "Indeed, I have found a way to resolve this matter…"
And with that, the hall leaned forward, awaiting the revelation of his design.