"That's truly unfortunate."
In the end, the palantír preserved in Gondor's royal city remained beyond Levi's reach. The ancient seeing-stone belonged exclusively to Gondor's king, and only the king possessed the authority to decide its use.
And at this moment, Gondor had no king.
"This place sits closest to Mordor," Levi explained, his voice carrying a note of frustration. "Using the palantír could provide direct surveillance into Mordor's depths."
The afternoon light streaming through the palace windows seemed to dim as he spoke, casting long shadows across the marble floor.
"Sauron has been unnervingly quiet these past two years. I suspect he's secretly brewing some dark scheme."
Turgon's weathered hands gripped the arms of his chair. "You can rest assured about this matter. We'll maintain our watch on your behalf. The moment we receive word of any movement, you'll know."
"In that case, I have nothing more to discuss here."
With a dismissive wave, Levi turned toward the great doors of the throne room. His footsteps echoed against the vaulted ceiling as he made his departure.
Ecthelion stepped forward, following Levi from the palace and personally escorting him through the winding corridors. Behind them, Turgon watched the retreating figure with eyes that revealed a storm of complex emotions churning beneath his controlled exterior.
Beside the old Steward, young Denethor had observed the entire exchange in silence, absorbing every word. This marked the first time he'd learned the true name of that "great enemy" his father and grandfather spoke of in hushed whispers.
Sauron.
The name seemed to burn itself into his memory alongside another revelation that captivated his ambitious mind: the palantír.
Here were two elements that seemed capable of making even the invincible Levi stumble. An unutterable name and an untouchable artifact.
A fierce competitive spirit blazed to life in the boy's chest. Young Denethor lifted his chin proudly, his gaze following that powerful figure as it disappeared beyond the palace gates.
Turgon placed a reassuring hand on his grandson's shoulder, nodding with approval. "Gondor's men should carry themselves with such pride."
In this moment, both Gondor and its rulers remained strong and unbroken.
The residential district of the White City buzzed with its usual afternoon activity as Ecthelion and Levi strolled through the cobblestone streets like any ordinary passersby. Merchants hawked their wares while children chased each other between the market stalls, their laughter mixing with the clip-clop of horse hooves on stone.
"This is far enough. There's no need to continue escorting me," Levi said, pausing near a fountain where carved swans spouted crystal-clear water. "I'm meeting a friend, then I plan to head north."
"A friend?" Ecthelion's curiosity was evident in his tone. "A Gondorian?"
"Indeed. You probably know him. Cain, the Ithilien strike team captain you sent south. I promised to meet him for a proper farewell before departing."
Their conversation led them to a bustling tavern whose wooden sign creaked gently in the evening breeze. The moment they paused at the entrance, something curious occurred. Passersby who had been heading toward the door suddenly discovered alternative routes, as if the doorway had become an obstacle rather than an entrance.
Inside, the tavern owner's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. The gods had smiled upon him! The Steward's son and that legendary northern lord, standing together at his establishment! This would be the talk of the district for months.
"I do know Cain quite well," Ecthelion replied with genuine warmth. "I personally recruited him into our forces and appointed him to his captain's position."
His expression brightened as he spotted a familiar figure approaching through the crowd. "Look, here he comes now."
When the trio entered the tavern together, the usual evening chatter died as if someone had cast a silence spell. Only the gentle clink of cups and the scrape of utensils against wooden plates remained audible.
"My lord, you honor us..." the tavern owner began, rushing forward with obvious anxiety.
Ecthelion raised a placating hand. "I'm just an ordinary customer tonight. Please, continue as you always do."
"Of course, my lord."
Cain showed no surprise at the situation. Clearly, Levi's meeting with the Steward had proceeded smoothly. But then again, who would be foolish enough to create difficulties for such a man?
Once seated at a corner table, they were served simple but hearty fare: fresh bread still warm from the oven, roasted meat that filled the air with savory aromas, foaming beer, and an assortment of fruits and vegetables. Despite their varying stations, no one put on airs in Levi's presence. They ate and drank with genuine camaraderie.
"There's something almost magical about being in your company," Ecthelion observed, taking a generous bite of bread before draining his beer mug with surprising gusto. He wiped the foam from his lips and, mindful of royal decorum, successfully suppressed the burp that threatened to emerge. "I always feel that around you, everyone's identity and status simply dissolve, leaving only our true selves."
"We are our true selves to begin with," Levi replied with a slight smile.
As the evening progressed and the ale loosened tongues, Levi began sharing stories of his northern domain.
"The Ranger recruits at Roadside Keep are still awaiting my review. By my calculations, that great road should be completed by now as well. The final inspection requires my personal supervision."
He paused to sample the roasted meat, nodding approvingly at its preparation. "Honestly, I have some doubts about whether they've handled the road connection project properly, but it matters little. At worst, we'll tear it down and rebuild. There's not much work involved anyway."
"That legendary northern sky road?" Ecthelion leaned forward, extracting the key details from Levi's casual remarks.
"Exactly. It connects the eastern and western regions. When opportunity allows, you should all come see it. Northern trade has flourished remarkably these past few years. I'm certain you'd find something to your liking."
"That sounds wonderful. Congratulations," Ecthelion and Cain both offered their blessings, though they notably avoided responding to Levi's invitation.
It wasn't lack of desire that held them back, but duty. For nearly a century, even during periods of relative peace, Gondor's forces couldn't afford a moment's negligence. One was the future Steward, the other a frontline strike team captain. Neither could abandon their posts.
They could only listen wistfully to tales of distant prosperity.
"You mentioned Rangers," Cain said, seizing upon a term that piqued his professional interest.
"Does your domain maintain strike teams as well?"
"Not strike teams exactly," Levi clarified, swirling his beer thoughtfully. "They generally operate in dispersed units. A squad rarely exceeds ten members, typically facing manageable threats. The scale can't yet compare to your operations."
"Much like the northern Dúnedain, they usually work in groups of four or five, primarily hunting isolated orcs before they can form larger forces. Occasionally they clear bandit hideouts or drive off trolls that venture south from the Ettenmoors seeking prey."
Ecthelion and Cain exchanged meaningful glances as they processed this information.
"Northern Rangers," Cain murmured, testing the term. "Or perhaps Dúnedain would be more accurate. This operational method sounds remarkably similar to their traditional tactics."
"Precisely correct," Levi confirmed. "Those training my people are indeed Dúnedain. We maintain extensive cooperation with them. The children at Roadside Keep have come to call them 'instructors.'"
"Every fledgling apprentice Ranger must undergo the baptism of actual combat before they can officially assume the position at Roadside Keep."
The position of Ranger carried significant responsibilities and privileges within his domain.
"In truth, your 'Rangers' differ little from strike teams," Cain explained after Levi finished. "Strike teams and Rangers are essentially identical in composition and purpose. Rangers operating independently are simply called Rangers; when they gather in larger numbers, they become strike teams. It's merely a matter of terminology."
"I understand now."
"The north must enjoy remarkable peace," Ecthelion mused, mentally reviewing maps and struggling to identify any significant threats to the lord before him.
The Dúnedain's activities alone would keep most orc forces nervous, and with additional Rangers deployed from Levi's domain, that represented a formidable protective force.
"The situation is manageable," Levi replied modestly. "At minimum, the road from the Shire to Rivendell has been thoroughly secured. The orc and warg packs that previously swarmed those paths have been completely eliminated. Not one remains."
After answering casually, he paused in thought, then suddenly addressed Ecthelion directly.
"Your father inquired earlier about what I might need. Actually, there might indeed be something."
"What would that be?"
Ecthelion straightened with obvious interest, sensing an opportunity to properly honor their guest.
"I need a piece of land. Grant me a territory."
Despite their preparation for unusual requests, this bold statement still startled both men at the table. Such audacity! Demanding Gondorian territory outright?
"Ah, please don't misunderstand," Levi quickly clarified, noting their expressions. "I'm not seeking a fief or formal lordship. I simply need an unclaimed piece of empty land where I might construct a dwelling and store certain items. Consider it a waystation."
The distance between Gondor and Roadside Keep far exceeded that between his domain and Dale. Having to traverse the entire route each time would prove exhausting. Better to claim some strategic ground early and establish a portal for swifter travel.
"That seems... quite reasonable," Ecthelion said slowly, relief evident in his voice. A simple rest stop was far different from territorial conquest.