When Sylas finished speaking, the hall fell into an uneasy silence.
Gandalf's brow furrowed, his tone edged with gravity. "Sylas, that is a grave accusation. You speak of the White Wizard himself, the head of the White Council, a voice long trusted in the struggle against the Shadow. Do you have proof that Saruman has dealings with Sauron?"
Elrond and Galadriel exchanged a glance but said nothing. Their expressions, however, were tense. They both knew Sylas was not one to invent falsehoods, yet the thought of Saruman the White turning against the Light was almost unthinkable.
Yes, Saruman was proud, stubborn, and often unwilling to heed counsel, but for thousands of years he had stood as one of the chief defenders of Middle-earth. If he truly had fallen, it would be a crippling blow to all who still resisted Sauron.
"Proof?" Sylas said calmly. "I have it."
He lifted his wand to his temple, drawing forth a thin silver strand of memory.
"Lady Galadriel, I must ask your aid."
Galadriel inclined her head, understanding at once, and led them from the hall into her private garden.
In one shaded corner, a clear stream spilled from the hillside into a silver basin mounted upon a stand of sculpted branches. Beside it rested a slender ewer of the same silver craft.
This was the Mirror of Galadriel, a vessel that could show visions of the past, present, and even the yet-to-come.
Galadriel filled the ewer from the stream and poured its water into the basin. The surface rippled, and a pale light shimmered across it as the image of the garden dissolved into a shifting, depthless mirror.
When she stepped aside, she gestured for Sylas to proceed.
He held the gleaming memory thread above the basin and let it drop. The silver strand dissolved into the water, and the mirror's light deepened, the surface turning to an image like smoke and glass.
The others gathered close, their eyes fixed upon the unfolding vision.
They saw Saruman, seated within the high chamber of Orthanc, holding a palantír and speaking to the burning Eye of Sauron. They saw Gandalf arrive at Isengard, only to be betrayed, disarmed, and imprisoned atop the tower. They saw strange forges, deep pits crawling with laborers, and from them emerged a new breed of Orcs, the Uruk-hai, stronger, faster, and unafraid of the sun.
The images were fragmented, shifting like broken glass, but their meaning was unmistakable. Each scene whispered of treachery, of the White Wizard bending his will to the Enemy.
Shock rippled through those watching. Even Gandalf stood unmoving, his gaze locked upon the images, as if searching for some hint that they were false.
At last Elrond looked from the mirror to Sylas, his eyes wide with realisation.
"These have not yet come to pass. Are these visions of the future? Did you foresee them?"
Others turned to Sylas with the same unspoken question.
"A vision, yes," Sylas replied, shaking his head slightly. "But not a fixed prophecy. A prophecy is immutable. This is more akin to a forewarning."
He did not add that some of the visions were glimpsed through his prophetic gift, while others were carefully crafted from what he already knew would happen. Saruman's past slights, particularly his sneering dismissal of Sylas as a "third-rate conjurer," had not been forgotten. This was as fine a moment as any to show his companions the wizard's true colours.
And, he thought with quiet satisfaction, every image shown here was of something Saruman would do in the days ahead. There was not a shred of slander in it.
Sylas felt entirely confident in what he had shown them and carried no sense of guilt.
Galadriel, Elrond, and the others remained silent for a long moment. The truth they had been reluctant to face now stood before them: an ally they had trusted for centuries might indeed have turned to the Shadow.
"How should we deal with Saruman's fall?" Gandalf asked gravely.
Elrond shook his head. "At present, we lack absolute proof. Without conclusive evidence, confronting him outright would be dangerous. It would only put him on his guard and drive him to take precautions. For now, we must investigate quietly and gather what we need in secret."
The White Wizard's position was formidable. Saruman was not only the head of the Order of Wizards but also the leader of the White Council itself. Any rash move against him could shake the fragile balance of Middle-earth.
"And the matter of the One Ring must be kept from him," Elrond continued. "If Saruman already harbors hidden ambitions, knowing of its return would invite more peril than we can risk."
Galadriel and Gandalf both nodded in agreement. Now that they suspected Saruman's intentions, they could not allow him even the faintest knowledge of the Ring's reappearance.
"Then who will keep the One Ring for now?" Celeborn asked.
If it could not yet be destroyed, it had to be kept safe until it could be carried to Mount Doom. The question was who could guard it without succumbing to its corruption.
The Ring's power to tempt and twist hearts was no small matter. Whoever carried it would have to resist its lure, and the stronger the bearer's power, the more dangerous the risk if they fell. Should someone like Gandalf or Galadriel be corrupted, the cost to Middle-earth would be beyond imagining.
For this reason, entrusting it to one of great strength was out of the question.
That left only one obvious choice.
"I believe," Celeborn said thoughtfully, "that since fate placed the One Ring in Bilbo's path, it may be best for him to keep it until the time comes to destroy it. Of all of us, he is the least touched by its influence, which makes him the safest choice."
He did not add aloud the practical truth that Bilbo posed the least threat. Even if the Hobbit were swayed by the Ring, the harm he could cause would be far less than that of a great power turned to evil.
Gandalf, however, shook his head. "The Ring's influence on Hobbits is smaller, yes, but it is not absent. We cannot wager Bilbo's safety on the hope that it will never harm him."
Elrond nodded in agreement.
Galadriel, who had been silent throughout the debate, finally turned her gaze to Sylas. "What is your opinion?"
Her question drew the attention of everyone in the glade. Gandalf and Elrond both fixed him with expectant eyes.
Sylas was slightly surprised to be asked but answered without hesitation.
"I know someone; in his hands, the one ring is no different from an ordinary ring, and with the one ring in his hands, there's no need to worry about anyone taking it, not even Sauron himself!"
Everyone turned to Sylas in surprise. Could such a person truly exist in Middle-earth?
"Who do you mean?" Elrond asked, his tone curious.
Sylas smiled faintly. "Tom Bombadil, who dwells in the Old Forest."
At the name, Elrond paused, then his eyes lit with recognition. "If it is Bombadil… yes, he would indeed be a remarkable choice."
Galadriel and Celeborn exchanged knowing glances. In the Sindarin tongue, Bombadil was called Iarwain Ben-adar, Oldest and Fatherless. He was older than the Sun and Moon, perhaps older than the awakening of the Elves themselves at Cuiviénen, and it was said he had even dwelt among them in ages long past. His nature was a mystery, his power undeniable.
Given such a being's indifference to the lure of the Ring, neither Galadriel nor Celeborn voiced any objection to entrusting him with it.
Only Gandalf frowned. "Tom's heart is as free as the wind, and as changeable. He does not see the world as we do, nor does he weigh the fate of kingdoms. Give him the Ring, and he might forget it by the next sunrise, or set it down somewhere and never think of it again. I do not say this unkindly; it is simply his way. I fear he is too unreliable a guardian."
At this, Elrond hesitated.
Sylas, however, shook his head. "There's little need for such concern. Tom may be careless, but Goldberry is not. His lady is thoughtful, watchful, and as constant as the river she embodies. If she understands what is at stake, she will see to it that Tom does not misplace something so dangerous."
He spoke with the easy assurance of someone who knew them well. During his travels, Sylas had stayed in their home, shared their table, and learned both Tom's eccentricities and Goldberry's quiet diligence. They had once aided him generously. He disliked the thought of burdening them now, but of all the options, none were safer. Sauron himself could not wrest the Ring from Tom's keeping, and its malice would find no purchase in him.
"Of course," Sylas added, "this is only if they agree. If they refuse, we will have to think again."
This time, Gandalf did not protest. In truth, if the Ring could be kept forever out of Sauron's reach without the perils of carrying it into Mordor, it would spare the Free Peoples much danger. And there was another, quieter reason, if the One Ring were destroyed, the Three Rings of the Elves would lose their power. Gandalf did not fear losing Narya, the Ring of Fire, but he knew what such a loss would mean for the hidden realms of the Elves.
As Sylas had foretold, the Age of Elves would end, and the Age of Men would rise. It was a truth they had long accepted, but if that ending could be delayed… so much the better.
With the decision made, they resolved that after leaving Lothlórien, they would journey to the Old Forest to speak with Tom Bombadil. Until then, the Ring would remain in Bilbo's care.
The Hobbit had not expected it to return to him, even for a short while, and though he felt a twinge of unease, he could not entirely hide his fondness for it.
To shield him from its influence, Galadriel produced a small, beautifully wrought coffer engraved with Elvish runes. Forged long ago, when Sauron's power was at its height, it had been crafted to hide the Three Elven Rings from his sight. Its wards would greatly weaken the Ring's pull on its bearer.
Sylas considered the matter, then spoke. "I can cast a Fidelius Charm. It won't make the Ring vanish into thin air, but it will hide the truth about it so deeply in the soul of a chosen Secret-Keeper that no spell, no mind-probe, no force in Middle-earth or beyond could reveal it unless they speak the secret aloud. Even if someone stumbles across the Ring, they'll see only an ordinary trinket. Without the Keeper's words, the knowledge that it is the One Ring will never reach their mind."
At his words, the eyes of all present brightened. This was a safeguard beyond any they had considered.
...
Stones Plzzz
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