Chapter 42: Resuming the journey.

[General POV]

Turning around, Galadriel smiled at them. "They are gone," she said, before looking up at the moon that began to show its beauty. When she saw Tindómiel's son, an emotion she had long suppressed resurfaced with great intensity.

"Sadness." That powerful emotion she felt upon learning that her daughter had been tortured after being captured by orcs, and that her dear friend had almost succumbed to the wounds inflicted by those orcs. The orcs had taken advantage of Tindómiel being weakened by Sauron's black magic and her pregnancy, achieving their goal by making Tindómiel leave Middle-earth for Valinor to recover.

Moreover, her beloved daughter also left Middle-earth, leaving her alone. The only consolation was that it was only a matter of time before they could reunite once more.

This emotion resurfaced upon seeing the son of her dear friend. It was suspected that the child was missing; from the little Tindómiel had said after the attack, a white bird, as bright as the stars, had saved young Aldril. She felt immense guilt for not being able to keep Tindómiel longer, but the woman, despite her pregnancy and the black magic tormenting her, remained firm in her decision to give birth to her child in Rivendell, her home.

'Tindómiel, sometimes your stubbornness rivaled that of the dwarves, but now you can be at peace. Your son is well, and rest assured, I will care for him in your place,' Galadriel promised, ignoring the conversation Elrond and the others were having. However, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of Saruman slamming the table.

"This is unacceptable! Those fools will awaken Smaug, and many lives will be lost due to their stubbornness!" Saruman exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table, which barely withstood the blow, as a crack began to spread across it.

He had been holding back for a long time, wanting to release his frustration. The decisions made by Gandalf had made him quite unhappy, and the most frustrating part was that Elrond and Galadriel supported Gandalf's decision.

Just as Saruman continued to express his great displeasure with the dwarves' expedition to the Lonely Mountain, footsteps were heard approaching the meeting place.

Everyone turned their heads when they heard the sound and saw Glorfindel, who calmly made a small, elegant bow to those present. Then, looking at Elrond, he said, "Your Highness Elrond, they are gone. Young Aldril said that once he finishes his task with the dwarves, he will return."

With an understanding nod, Elrond signaled to dismiss Glorfindel. The latter made another bow, turned, and left.

Now focused on the meeting, Galadriel looked at the others and with a serene gaze said, "With their departure, their fate is intertwined with all of ours. Much depends on their success or failure."

Saruman snorted disdainfully, still upset about allowing the dwarves to continue their journey. "That part of Middle-earth's fate depends on a company of dwarves, a half-elf, and an insignificant hobbit. What have we come to?"

Gandalf, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke with irritation in his voice. He respected Saruman as the leader of the Istari, but it seemed Saruman had forgotten the mission for which they were sent. "Do not underestimate the small, Saruman. Within them may lie a strength that even we do not fully comprehend. Sometimes, fate chooses the humblest to accomplish the greatest feats. Remember Tindómiel, you thought she was just an impulsive girl, but she ended up being the key to making the dark forces retreat and allowing us these years of peace."

Saruman, with a mocking smile, as if Gandalf's words were a joke, stood up, his white robe billowing around him, and in a voice colder than ice, he responded, "Let us hope you are right, Gandalf. Otherwise, your decision will cost many lives, and if Sauron has returned, he will seize this opportunity to strike a severe blow to the peace we have maintained."

Galadriel, now slightly annoyed, intervened and looked at Saruman with a serious gaze. "Wisdom lies in humility, Saruman. Time will tell if your skepticism is justified. For now, we must wait. I am confident that Tindómiel's son will liberate Erebor from that dragon that has given us so much trouble."

As the council members continued their discussion, Gandalf sensed a very familiar presence looming along the path Aldril and the others had taken. 'That presence... How did I not realize it before? The shine of his hair like a starry sky, the immense confidence he instilled in our first meeting, my lady's blessing also extended to Aldril. What role will you play in the fate of Middle-earth, Aldril?'

-Meanwhile, with Aldril and the others-

Night was falling upon the company as they slowly advanced along a path that would lead them far from the lands of Rivendell. Thorin dared to venture out at night, knowing the orcs wouldn't be foolish enough to enter the land of the elves.

As for Aldril, he rode alongside Bilbo's pony. The latter frequently looked back, sighing each time he did so.

"Come on, Bilbo, you're going to run out of air with all those sighs," Aldril joked, understanding that his little friend still wished to stay in Rivendell.

Blushing slightly, Bilbo replied, "It's just that... Rivendell was so beautiful and safe, and I didn't have time to explore it fully."

Aldril nodded. "I understand, Bilbo. But after this, we can return and stay for a while. What do you think?"

"That sounds like a great idea," Bilbo said, his mood lifting slightly. Gandalf's absence made him very nervous, but fortunately, he had the presence of his friend Aldril, which calmed him. He didn't want to spend all his time with the dwarves, even though they had accepted him. He was still hesitant to be with them, but maybe in the coming months, Bilbo would develop a sense of friendship with the dwarves.

"By the way, Aldril, since when do you speak Elvish?" asked Kili, who was riding ahead of Aldril and Bilbo, his question catching the attention of the others.

"Yes, how do you know Elvish? If it weren't for your ears, I'd swear you were an elf," added Glóin, stroking his beard.

Feeling all the dwarves' eyes on him, Aldril chuckled lightly. He even saw Thorin, who was leading the way, tilt his head slightly to listen. After a few moments of silence, Aldril said, "To be honest, I think I understand all languages."

This clearly surprised them. Thorin, a bit skeptical, said in his language, "Fidûl, ¿kulguzd khuzdul? (In that case, can you understand me?)"

Smiling, Aldril replied, "Ar' az ârkh (And also speak it)." His response cheered all the dwarves, who let out a happy shout of "Hey!" Even Thorin's usually stern face was adorned with a rare smile, clearly pleased. It was extremely rare for a human to understand their language, so whenever they dealt with humans, they had to speak in the common tongue.

Surprised, Bilbo whispered, "Hey Aldril, is that an ability you have because you're half-elf?" His question amused Aldril, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged, responding, "Who knows, maybe it is."

Time passed, and the dwarves occasionally chatted about elven food and wine. Aldril, knowing they were safe for the moment, focused his attention on his system.

The School of the Wolf's style had fused with the sword techniques of Malenia and Rellana, resulting in a new name.

[Skill: Dancing Star] --- [Passive Effect: This sword style is a combination of Malenia, Rellana, and the Witcher's School of the Wolf. The sword style reflects the elegance and lethality of the stars. Your performance in combat will illuminate fallen hearts, giving them strong hope and making them fight with more fervor.]

'This is a great surprise. It has a passive effect that will motivate people in battle. It will be very helpful in the upcoming fights,' he thought to himself, excited not only by the passive skill but also because he could replicate the moves of his favorite bosses.

He could already imagine replicating Malenia's move, dancing and cutting through enemies like butter. Additionally, the signs he learned from the Witcher's knowledge would keep him well-defended. His archery skills had improved exponentially under Sylvanas's guidance. The Elven stone his grandmother gave him would accelerate his healing and quickly replenish his stamina, the dark cloak from his mother would hide him from enemies, and his two swords, Anglachel and Anguriel, the strongest swords in Middle-earth, ensured he was ready for anything fate threw at him.

It didn't matter if it was a dragon or a Balrog; he would face anything in his path. After all, he was the son of Tindómiel, one of the strongest women in history.

***

Nasty orcs! here you have your chapter, tomorrow I will upload the other one, since this one is too short.

Aldril will be in the future the best swordsman, you can imagine the beasts he will face. 

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