Chapter 312: The End of an Era
"Before the Balrog's movements become clear, they had better behave and avoid danger."
Levi gave the order.
"I'll speak to them about it."
Gandalf nodded and added, "Also, I'll keep an eye on the situation and inform you as soon as there's news."
"The refreshments are ready!"
Bilbo's voice came from inside the house.
And so their private conversation ended.
"Coming."
Levi and Gandalf stood and entered, taking their seats.
The afternoon tea was quite peaceful.
Yet peaceful moments are often brief.
After tea came the farewell.
Levi and Gandalf walked together toward Roadside Keep, chatting along the way.
Their conversation covered many topics, including Levi's recent kill of the Balrog—which Gandalf viewed as recent—Aragorn's return, and unfolding events in the East.
Gandalf recalled, "I heard from Aragorn about the two Blue Wizards. It seems they've made some progress."
"What news did he bring?" Levi asked.
It had been a long time since news from the East and South, and those lands must have changed much over the years.
"The Khanate of Khand. The new king refuses to submit to Mordor. Though they still send tributes annually, their position is precarious."
"That nomadic kingdom is surrounded by Mordor, the Easterlings, and Harad. They can do nothing; no one can help them."
"Unless you abandon everything and relocate there permanently."
It was truly helpless. Levi and the Free Cities were far away, while Mordor was at their doorstep. The Khandish king had no choice: submit or perish.
If it weren't for that small nation continuing tributes yearly, and Sauron's orders being smoothly executed, the Ringwraiths would have already paid the rulers a visit.
And when Ringwraiths visit, they really do rip out hearts.
If Khand wished independence, they'd need new allies.
In the Far East, Sauron tightly controlled lands near Mordor. Other areas not bordering Mordor remained uncorrupted, potential allies to win.
This was what the Blue Wizards were pursuing.
They discussed intermittently, soon arriving at Bree.
Under Roadside Keep's influence, the small town was much wealthier than before, and living standards visibly improved.
Frequent ranger activity drove out gangsters hiding in dark corners; they vanished completely from Bree.
Upon arrival, Gandalf headed straight to the Prancing Pony—a familiar place.
The owner greeted him enthusiastically, waving and personally attending to him.
Gandalf returned the hospitality warmly, ordering two mugs of ale to support the business.
The fresh frothy ale arrived, and Gandalf carried both mugs to a corner table, handing one to Levi, who wore a wide hooded cloak.
"Thank you."
Levi raised his cup, tilting his head back to drink half the ale.
Noticing Levi's large hood, Gandalf teased, "You've finally learned to keep a low profile."
"Couldn't help it."
Levi shrugged.
"I never thought my face showing could cause such a stir."
"Sometimes being too famous isn't a good thing."
Indeed, it was a pity.
Times had changed. Levi was no longer just an adventurer. His presence was too strong to hide.
Even concealed behind a hood, Levi could sense and occasionally feel shifts of gaze from surrounding rangers.
They recognized him but didn't interrupt. Levi waved, and they resumed their activities.
A while later, both mugs were empty.
Perhaps Gandalf was truly hungry—after one mug, he ordered roasted meat, bread, and some sweet and sour preserves.
Quite a pairing.
Levi felt hungry too. He stopped a passing waitress and signaled, "I'll have the same as him."
"All right."
"Me too, I want the same."
Then another voice sounded.
A tall figure with a dust-covered appearance sat beside Levi.
"Afternoon, Uncle Levi, and Gandalf."
"Aragorn."
Gandalf called out the visitor's name.
Levi turned and asked, "Why are you here?"
"Aratar sent me. He asked me to greet you and Falodan for him."
Levi nodded. "Looks like you get along well."
Aragorn's journey was over.
During the meal, Levi and Gandalf learned of his plans.
In 2952, Aragorn left the Valley and traveled through Middle-earth, earning a reputation and achievements everywhere.
In 2981, after countless battles and life experiences, he returned to Gondor and his people.
He planned to act alongside his kin in the coming days.
After leaving Bree, the three parted ways to their own paths.
Gandalf continued roaming, Aragorn headed to the northern frontline, and Levi returned to Roadside Keep to manage various affairs.
Thanks to the territory's operation mode, few things required Levi's personal attention, so his workload was light.
As usual, he reviewed reports, expedited local projects, and intervened to speed progress.
Days passed quietly.
In 2982, a hobbit was born in Frodo's old home—Meriadoc Brandybuck.
Frodo's mother visited the child and later told Took about it. Frodo learned of this younger brother bearing kinship.
A year later, Gondor sent news of Denethor's second child, Faramir.
Levi visited during the child's month celebration.
He even held the newborn.
The baby was healthy, and Denethor seemed energetic as usual but more silent and serious.
This calmness involved Ecthelion.
The wise steward spoke softly, "Time... I cannot say when, but it began to bring fear."
"Perhaps when it lost all meaning," Levi replied.
He brought a chair and sat opposite.
"How have things been?"
"All is well," the elder answered, looking at Levi.
"You look well, too."
"Same as always."
"That's good."
Ecthelion nodded slowly, then said, "I have a bad feeling. A shadow approaches."
"Denethor's burden will be heavy, but he is strong."
Levi nodded in agreement.
"I believe that. I have watched his growth over the years."
"Yes."
Ecthelion sighed, "He will carry on."
They talked a long while.
They spoke of Gondor, Mordor, and the future.
Eventually, they strolled from the White City to the Cair Andros fortress along the Anduin River, then back.
A pleasant walk.
Spring passed, and fall came, then the cold began to bite.
The next spring, Levi visited Gondor again to see his old friend and give a final farewell.
At the Steward's Tomb in Minas Tirith, in a spacious arched hall, Denethor stood silently before a marble tomb, gazing at the carved portrait, eyes distant.
Soft footsteps came from behind, snapping him back.
A flower was placed atop the grave.
Denethor shrugged and turned, feeling warmth—the shining armor of Levi.
"You know, many years have passed, yet I still remember that summer afternoon we rode through Rohan—drinking that dreadful mushroom soup, then feasting on freshly roasted fish by the fire."
"Those were such fond memories—adventure and the past, two words that always inspire beautiful memories."
Levi patted Denethor's shoulder.
"Your father always believed in you and that you could shoulder the future of this nation."
"How will you respond now?"
Beneath soaring walls and grand vaults, Denethor's voice rang clear.
"I will."
In 2984, Ecthelion II passed at age 98. Denethor succeeded him as Steward.
Thus, an era came to a true close.
A new melody quietly began.