Chapitre 51: The Seduction of the Ring
The morning in Rivendell held a crispness that reminded me of my time in the capital of Cyrodil. Everyone was in a rush, if I had to guess it was about the one ring. Many different people had been coming here over the week since I had met Strider. And on that note, I came to learn that every time I was training with him, an option to pay Septum's came up. And if I didn't, I would learn it at a slower rate.
Sighing, as I watched the sunrise. Today would be focusing on trying to tap into this world's magic instead of just forcefully taking it from the earth. I had read a few books that Lord Elrond had given me while I was stuck healing. So I had a rough idea of what I could try.
So I headed to the secluded part of the gardens, well it was at the start now some people knew where I was if I wasn't in the medical ward. Sitting cross-legged, I closed my eyes to better try and feel this world's magic.
Inhaling deeply, I extended my senses outward. Middle-earth's magic, unlike Tamriel's abundant and raw amount of magic, from what I could find in the books Elrond had given me, it spoke about magic being like a song. Maybe I should try adding my own mage to it.
As I hummed the Falmer tune, I could feel the magic flowing up my legs and to my fingertips and casted mage light. The light from my hands formed a small, steady orb, the more I was off note the more it deformed and the better I hummed it became more solid. My concentration was deep, so deep that I missed the approach of Gandalf the Grey who was right next to me.
"Good morning, Ellehish," Gandalf greeted, his deep voice resonant with a mix of curiosity and warmth. "It seems you are finding a way to harmonize your talents with the song of this land."
I opened my eyes startled, As the magical orb dissipated. "Trying to," I admitted, feeling embarrassed. "The magic here is different, it's like I have to gently lull it out. So I'm trying to use some of the Falmer melodies I know."
Gandalf nodded, lowering himself onto the grass beside me with a thoughtful expression. He withdrew a pipe and a pouch of some type of leaf's, beginning to pack the pipe methodically. "Music and magic often share a bond," he mused. "though it seems you are missing much more information. why don't you tell me about your world's magic" Offering me his pipe, I accepted it, and as I took a light puff, allowing the sweet smoke to curl around us, I started coughing.
Gandalf chuckled softly as I handed him back his pipe, and he took a deep buff and allowed the smoke to swirl around his grey beard. While I adjusted my posture it was time to tell him what I learned while I was studying at the mage guild. "In my homeland, we speak of Magnus, the architect of our world. He is the god of magic, who tore through the veil of the world, leaving behind the sun and his follower demi gods that made the stars when they left with him, which is the source of all magical power in Tamriel. His departure left us not only with the sun and star's but also with raw magical energies that poured out of them that mages like me learn to harness."
Gandalf's eyes lit up with interest. "Fascinating," he mused. "The flow of your magic, then, is a direct legacy of this Magnus. Here, our world was sung into existence by Eru Ilúvatar and his Ainur, who wove reality through a grand symphony known as the Ainulindalë, the Music of the Ainur. " I nodded as he spoke as I had read bits of that already. "Each note and melody shaped the very fabric of what you see around us."
"So, in a way, both our magics are drawn from the fundamental forces shaped at the creation of our worlds, mine from a celestial tear, and yours from a divine symphony."
"Yes, precisely," Gandalf agreed, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. "And just as your mages draw upon the raw energies left by Magnus, we too must attune ourselves to the ongoing echoes of that first song, to shape and guide the magic inherent in Middle-earth."
The understanding deepened my appreciation for the subtleties of Middle-earth's magic. Encouraged, I hummed a low tune, a remnant of a Falmer song, attempting to align it with the rhythmic pulse I felt in the air.
Gandalf nodded in approval, his gaze thoughtful. "good just like that, feel the magic in the earth, air, and sky."
As the morning light began to strengthen, casting golden hues over the garden, our session drew to a natural close. Gandalf rose, his presence as reassuring as it was commanding. "Keep exploring, Ellehish."
With a final, respectful nod, he departed, leaving me to ponder the intertwined melodies of magic. As I resumed my magical practice, each pulse of energy seemed like a note, but I wasn't able to understand it fully yet.
Mp 100/480= Mp 160/480
I managed to gather far more magika now than I had in by forcefully taking from the land. After the enlightening session with Gandalf. My stomach reminded me that understanding magic didn't fill physical voids. so, I made my way to the dining area, my steps quickening with the thought of eating some meat.
The elves of Rivendell had laid out an impressive spread, mostly consisting of finely prepared vegetables, fruits, and an assortment of grains for the guests that were here or where to come. Yet, my eyes were drawn to the less common choice for the people here. A large platter of fucking roasted deer meat, its aroma calling to me far louder than the gentler scents of herbs and greens.
Seating myself, I eagerly carved a generous portion of the meat, my sharp canines tearing effortlessly through the tender flesh. I had always liked meat more than other stuff, and this, this was so fucking good.
As I savored each bite, I noticed the curious glances from nearby elves. Their expressions were a mixture of surprise and discreet fascination. One of the Elves, a scholar named Erestor who had helped me understand some of the history of Middle Earth I was struggling with, noted aloud, "Your teeth are quite... sharp, Ellehish. Such sharp canines are uncommon among our kind."
I chuckled, a piece of meat poised on my fork. "Yes, I suppose they are. Let's just say, where I come from, my teeth are pretty common."
The conversation might have drifted into further peculiarities of my habits, but we were soon joined by a new, boisterous presence. A group of Dwarves entered the dining hall. Among them, a stout figure with a fiery beard approached my table, his eyes wide with approval at my choice of meal.
"Ah, now there's a sight for sore eyes!" he exclaimed in a gruff voice that filled the room. "A fair Elf who appreciates a good roast!"
"Indeed," I replied with a grin, offering him a welcoming gesture. "Care to join me?"
The Dwarf, introducing himself as Gimli, son of Glóin, took a seat, his plate clanking heavily with his own generous serving of the roast. "Don't mind if I do! It's rare to see one of your folk enjoying the heartier foods of life."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Ellehish. And yes, I find that a good meal is an important thing in life." Ah I was fan girling a bit, I'm glad he seemed somewhat chill compared to what I was expecting.
As we ate, the group of Dwarves and I exchanged tales of travels and battles, their stories echoing with the clangs of axes and the deep bellows of underground forges. Gimli, with his spirited demeanor and loud laughter, recounted tales of the Dwarven kingdoms that made me long to see them.
The meal passed with lively conversation and shared laughter, a welcome change from the often serene and composed discussions with the Elves. As the last of our plates were cleared, the conversation around the table continued to flow freely. The Dwarves, with their hearty laughter and animated tales, shared stories of their exploits, from battles with goblins to the discovery of precious gems deep within the earth. It felt natural, then, to reciprocate with a tale of my own.
"Your stories remind me of my own encounters with the beasts of my homeland," I began, drawing the attention of Gimli and his companions. "Particularly with trolls."
"Trolls, you say?" Gimli echoed, leaning in with interest. "We've had our share of trouble with trolls, massive brutes they are, but I wager they're no different in your homeland."
I shake my head and retrieve a piece of my gear. To them, it seemed like I pulled it out of thin air. It was the leather chest piece made from the hide of a troll. The center of the armor was particularly notable, the face of the troll stretched and preserved.
"This is made from the hide of a troll I fought back in Tamriel," I explained, placing it on the table for all to see. This was no point in me lying about where I'm from, it not like they could go over there, and I was sure Lord Elrond would discuss this at the meeting about the one ring.
The Dwarves examined it with keen eyes, their expressions shifting from curiosity to surprise. "That's quite a trophy," one of them remarked, running a hand over the preserved face. "Our trolls don't look like this at all."
"The trolls in Tamriel are smaller," I explained, "but they can regenerate quickly from almost any wound. They are incredibly strong and resilient, despite their size. which makes them fucking annoying to deal with"
Gimli let out a low whistle. "Regenerating, you say? Our trolls are large and brutish, more like lumbering mountains of muscle. They're not ones to recover from injuries easily, but they more than makeup for it with their sheer size and strength."
"Yes," I said, pointing to the chest piece. "This one nearly killed me. If not for my teacher, Awalion, I wouldn't be sitting here today. She taught me how to fight, how to hunt and skin these types of beasts, and she saved me more times than I can count."
The Dwarves murmured in appreciation, clearly impressed by both the craftsmanship of the armor and the tale of its acquisition. Gimli's eyes shone with respect. "Your teacher must have been a remarkable warrior," he said.
"She was," I replied, feeling a pang of sorrow mixed with pride. "She taught me everything I know about combat and survival....." Taking a moment to not make things awakened.
The mood around the table grew more contemplative as the Dwarves took in my story. It was a moment of shared understanding. It seemed some of them lost people that were special to them as well.
Gimli leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Trolls, goblins, bandits... seems your lands are not that much different from ours."
I nodded in agreement, I guess there were some similarities between our worlds at least with what I had shared. As the conversation drifted back to lighter topics. I shared some of my story with the Dwarves about the ruins I had explored. The council would soon convene today if not tomorrow.
As the sun climbed towards its mid-day sky, the bustle within Rivendell grew. Delegates from distant lands gathered, their voices merging into a low, urgent hum that filled the air. I guess today was the day.
Approaching the designated meeting place, I felt a chill despite the warmth of the day. The ancient stone circle where the council was to be held as many of the realms represented were already here.
As I took my place among the assembled, I noticed the representatives, Elves, Dwarves, Men, and the four Hobbits, whose innocence seemed almost out of place in such a setting. Gandalf, already seated, caught my eye and nodded subtly, a gesture of reassurance in the tense atmosphere.
Elrond initiated the council with a solemnity befitting the occasion. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old," he began, his voice resonant and clear. "You have been summoned to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, each syllable underscored by the rustling of leaves. Silence followed a respectful pause allowing the gravity of our purpose to sink in.
Frodo, who had carried the Ring from the Shire, stepped forward hesitantly at Gandalf's nod. With a trembling hand, he placed the small, unassuming band of gold onto the stone slab at the center of the council. It was then, in that moment of silence as all eyes were fixed on the Ring, that I heard a whispering echo that seemed to caress the edges of my mind.
Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.
The words, though spoken in a tongue I did not know since I hadn't put on my crown given that I wanted to save my mp, but it felt eerily seductive. I could feel it calling out to me, I could use it, with It I could conquer all of Tamriel. All I had to do was take it, and vanish away, I would become its master. With it, I would bend all those that apposed me to my will.
Gandalf, noticing my slight trembling shudder, leaned slightly towards me. "It speaks to all who carry it, and even to those who merely stand in its presence," he murmured, his voice low but filled with an intensity that matched the gravity of his gaze. "Be wary, Ellehish." His voice snapping me out of whatever trance I was in.
I nodded, my own voice a mere whisper as I responded, my eyes still fixed on the gleaming gold of the Ring. "It's like it knows just what to say... like it can feel what I want the most."
As the council continued, voices rose in debate and argument. Boromir of Gondor spoke of using the Ring against the enemy, his words filled with a desperate hope that seemed fueled more by fear than reason. "It is a gift," he insisted, his gaze locked on the Ring with a longing that seemed to draw him nearer. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring?"
"Because it belongs to Sauron," Gandalf retorted sharply, standing to face Boromir, his voice echoing powerfully around the stone amphitheater. "This Ring answers to no one but its master. It has but one will: to return to the hand of its master. They are one, the Ring and the Dark Lord."
Legolas, Gimli, and others joined the fray, each arguing from the perspective of their people, their voices a cacophony of fear, hope, and anger. Throughout it all, the Ring's whispers seemed to weave between the words spoken, whispering to me.
As the discussion reached its peak, Aragorn's declaration brought a hush to the crowd. "I will take it," he stated, his voice resolute. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." His declaration seemed to cut through the whispers of the Ring, a clear note of sacrifice that briefly silenced the seductive calls.
Yet, they all knew, the path would not be so simple. The road to Mordor was fraught with danger, like in the movie members of the fellowship offered themselves to help. I wanted the ring, no I needed it but one not marred with whatever that thing was. "You have my spear."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone