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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 356
🕑 Added 2025-12-06 03:13:19 +0000 UTCChapter 356: Other Visitors
Perhaps the burden on the peoples of the North had never truly been light.
It was only that someone else had shouldered most of that weight and ground it down, so that this land could seem peaceful, even strong enough to press back upon the Enemy in turn.
It was not that Sauron had no designs here. It was that, whenever he showed his hand, it had been beaten back.
“Boromir.”
While he was still turning these thoughts over, Levi came back in a rush of wind, dust, and the smell of blood.
“My lord,” Boromir said, bowing his head.
“Enough of that. No need to be so stiff,” Levi said.
He clapped a hand on Boromir’s shoulder, friendly and familiar.
“I have known your house since your great-grandfather’s time,” he went on. “I even held you in my arms when you were a baby.”
Saying it left Levi feeling thoroughly pleased. Decades of quiet manoeuvring had finally paid off.
Boromir’s mouth twitched. Many of the soldiers nearby wore similar, complicated looks.
It was, frankly, a little embarrassing.
“In the blink of an eye, that little lad who would not stop chewing on people’s fingers has grown into a fine warrior, and a worthy captain besides,” Levi said.
“How is your father?”
“He…”
Boromir paused.
“He is still in fair spirits,” he said at last.
“Good. I have never taken my eye off Gondor,” Levi said.
“If anything happens, you come and tell me. I am here. I will help as I can.”
“When your father was small, I almost picked him up as well. Almost. You know how he is. Stubborn as stone. Wouldn’t let me,” he added.
Pfft.
The picture that painted was too much. Boromir could not help it; he burst out laughing.
To imagine his stern, silent old father as a child in such a scene…
After that shared moment, he sobered.
“For now, all is still holding in Gondor. We have just won a great victory. My brother Faramir is on the line with our men. He is steady and shrewd,” he said.
“Faramir. I remember him,” Levi said.
“A careful child, always coming to ask questions whenever I visited Gondor.”
“Well, enough talking out here. Your coming is no small thing; I must see to it that you are properly welcomed,” Levi went on.
“While there is a little quiet to spare.”
He glanced towards the field below the Wall, carpeted with monster corpses.
The last assault had done no harm here. Even without him, their fate would have been the same. They would not have broken through.
It would simply have taken longer.
Boromir smiled and nodded at the invitation.
In that moment, he felt something solid and very real: concern.
The hazy glow of legend around the Lord of the North was fading. In its place stood a man of blood and feeling, talking to him face to face.
There was no aloofness in him. He was easy to approach. Whether it was Boromir or an ordinary spearman, anyone who stepped up to speak would get an answer, and usually a word or two more.
In that, he was not unlike the wizard now striding up towards them.
“Well met, Boromir, son of Denethor,” Gandalf said.
“You look well enough. And your brother? How fares he?”
“He is all right. Only… he is not very happy,” Boromir admitted.
“I thought as much. Your father has always been at odds with him. It is a wonder he let you go,” Gandalf said.
“It was I who asked to come,” Boromir said.
“Then what have you come for?” Gandalf asked, voicing what Levi had been about to say.
“A dream,” Boromir said.
Later, in a fort by the Wall, he laid out his doubts.
“I came by the guidance of a dream,” he said simply.
Levi and Gandalf looked at one another.
The next day, the three of them left the now-stable Wall and rode back to Roadside Keep.
Stable?
Perhaps not entirely.
By the time Levi reached the Keep, two Dwarven visitors had arrived.
More exactly, a father and son.
“Glóin. Gimli,” Levi said.
“What brings you two here?”
“News,” Glóin said, his face grave.
“There is something amiss in the north of the Grey Mountains.”
The Grey Mountains: the realm of the Halls of Dáin.
Since their recovery and rebuilding, Glóin, his son, and many other Dwarves had moved there.
Glóin now dwelt there as the Dwarven colonial leader, overseeing the new halls and their affairs.
If not for something serious, he would not have left.
“In recent years, outside the gates of the Halls, we have often heard cries from behind the great snow-peaks,” Glóin said.
“At first, we took them for the calls of some beasts in the high wastes. But little by little, the sound changed. There was a wrongness in it, a chill that set the teeth on edge.”
“Then…”
He brought out a scale.
Levi took it and frowned.
He knew that look. It was a dragon-scale, the kind shed as a dragon grew. Beherdan had cast more than a few like it.
“Our people found it on the skirts of the mountains. We did not dare go further in,” Glóin said.
“The way is bad enough. And you know as well as I do: if we truly stumbled on something out there, the survey party would have no way to meet it. So I recalled them.”
“Whatever it is, let it come!” Gimli said behind him.
The younger Dwarf’s courage outstripped his caution. Or, perhaps, he was simply more reckless.
“The Northern Waste again,” Levi said.
He sighed.
“Very well. I have it. Leave it to me. We will settle it all together.”
“I am curious to see how many of these relics of the elder days are still crawling about,” he added.
They talked a while longer.
Not long after, another guest arrived—or rather, returned.
Aragorn.
“Lord Elrond sends word,” he said.
“He wishes to call a council, to settle what is to be done with the One Ring.”
Then he turned to Levi.
“He also bade me ask whether you would be willing to preside.”
“Me?” Levi said, pointing to himself.
He had clearly not expected that.
Aragorn nodded.
Gandalf cut in.
“If Elrond knew what he was like most days, he might think twice about that,” he said dryly.
“Of course, if it comes off, he has my full support.”
Levi shook his head.
“My counsel is that whoever calls the council should chair it,” he said.
“Come. Let us go to Rivendell and see some old friends.”
In the latter half of the year 3018 of the Third Age, powers from all sides gathered about the One Ring in Roadside Keep. Hearing of it, Elrond resolved to summon a council of the wise to decide the Ring’s fate.
At Levi’s suggestion, the council was chaired by Elrond himself, Lord of Rivendell, who was accounted the wisest Elf of his day.
Levi and Gandalf took their places among the wise.
Alongside them came Boromir, Captain of Gondor; Glóin, Dwarven leader from the Grey Mountains; and his son Gimli.
Nor were they the only guests in Rivendell.
