The two of them were soon engrossed in a long discussion about various medicinal plants, methods of concocting potions, and the potential magical powers contained within them. The elf spoke of rare plants that only grew in the hidden valleys of Rivendell, while Thalion explained the concept of the elixirs he created with a touch of fire from alchemy.
The conversation deepened Thalion's respect for the elven world and the wealth of knowledge they possessed. In his heart, he felt that this meeting was the beginning of a destiny that could strengthen his mission in Middle-earth.
Thalion and the dark green-robed elf woman were deeply engaged in discussing the elixir formula they were developing. The silent atmosphere of the library seemed to provide space for their meaningful conversation, a blend of knowledge and curiosity.
Suddenly, the library door opened gracefully. The noble figure of Elrond stepped in, his face calm yet full of authority. He called out in a soft but firm voice, "Arwen, your time has come."
Thalion, who had been looking at the mysterious elf, was instantly taken aback. The figure before him was no ordinary elf—the aura and beauty that radiated from her far surpassed his previous imaginings. All this time, he had pictured Arwen like the figure in the movies, Liv Tyler. However, the one before him was far more graceful, captivating, and exuded a magical light that was difficult to describe in words.
Elrond stepped closer, then introduced Thalion politely, "Arwen, allow me to introduce Thalion, son of Thengel of Rohan, who is now a guest in Rivendell."
Arwen looked at Thalion with a gentle yet meaningful smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Thalion. Rivendell welcomes you warmly."
Thalion replied with awe and a slight nervousness, "The pleasure is mine, Lady Arwen."
The moment felt weighty and precious, as if time paused briefly to make room for a meaningful encounter between the world of men and the world of elves.
After introducing Thalion and Arwen, Elrond smiled briefly, then said, "We will not disturb you any longer. Please continue your experiments, Thalion. If you succeed, the healers of Rivendell will be most grateful." He then turned to Arwen, giving a gentle signal with a nod of his head. "Come, my daughter."
Arwen looked at Thalion for a moment, her eyes radiating interest and respect. "Farewell, Thalion," she said in a voice like the murmur of a mountain stream.
Thalion replied with a slight bow, "Farewell, Lady Arwen."
After their departure, Thalion was once again immersed in his experiments. The emerald liquid in the small vial bubbled slowly, the sharp yet soothing aroma of herbs filling the room. He steeped several unique Rivendell flowers, mixed with shavings of shimmering bark from trees that only grew in hidden valleys. He pondered the chemical reactions, striving to perfect a potion that could accelerate wound healing, even for injuries considered incurable.
Day turned into night, night into morning. Then, as the sun had just risen above the valley trees, the sound of soft footsteps approached. When Thalion turned, he was transfixed.
Arwen stood in the doorway of the room, wearing a sky-blue gown with silver embroidery on the edges that flowed like ripples of water. Her jet-black hair cascaded softly, reflecting the morning light. In her hands was a basket of fruit and a small bottle of Rivendell wine.
"Good morning, Thalion," she said. "You seem to have not slept yet."
Thalion smiled, trying to hide his admiration. "The knowledge in this place is too captivating to leave just for sleep, Lady Arwen."
She chuckled softly, "You may call me Arwen, if you wish."
"I will remember that… Arwen," he said, a little stiffly but honestly.
Arwen stepped closer, placing the basket on the stone table. "I have come not only to bring fruit… I wish to invite you to see more of Rivendell. The library is a magnificent place, but this valley holds beauty that no book can describe."
Thalion looked at her face for a moment before replying, "It would be an honor."
"Then," Arwen said with a smile, "leave your vials and notes for now. I will show you places that even the poets of Gondor can only paint in dreams."
They stepped out of the experiment room, the morning light framing their figures. The valley of Rivendell greeted them with the sound of the flowing river, singing birds, and green leaves that reflected light like emeralds. This small journey, which began with conversations about herbs and elixirs, was now transforming into something that slowly drew two souls from different worlds closer.
Rivendell shone under the soft morning light. Thin mist danced among the tall trees surrounding the valley, while the sound of waterfalls echoed from afar, filling the air with a soothing rhythm. White stone paths wound along the contours of the valley, shaded by a green canopy that seemed to whisper of eternity.
Thalion walked beside Arwen, their steps falling into a natural harmony. His heart fluttered softly, not just because of the natural beauty, but because of the figure beside him who seemed to blend so perfectly with this place.
"I never imagined a place like this truly existed," Thalion murmured, gazing at an arched bridge that spanned a small river with wildflowers blooming along its banks. "Rivendell is like a painting drawn directly from the most beautiful dreams."
Arwen turned to him with a gentle smile. "Many humans say that when they first come here. But not all can truly feel it, Thalion. You feel not only with your eyes, but with your soul."
He looked at her for a moment, then bowed his head slightly, feeling the words were too profound for a light reply.
"This valley heals many wounds," Arwen continued, "but it also makes the heart heavy when it is time to leave."
Thalion nodded. "I can understand that now… Even before coming here, I had lost much, had many wounds. But in this place, somehow… I feel like I have come home, even though it has never been mine."
Arwen smiled again, this time more deeply. "Perhaps it is because your soul also comes from a land that loves peace."
They reached a small garden. A white stone fountain stood in the center, surrounded by flowering plum trees. Arwen sat on a moss-covered stone bench, and Thalion followed suit.
"You are very different, Thalion. The way you dress… your sword… even the way you speak. I can sense something foreign, but not in a bad way. You bring something from a world we do not yet know."
Thalion chuckled softly, looking straight ahead. "You are also different. Not like the legends. Not like the poems. More real, more… difficult to explain."
Arwen turned her head, slightly confused.
"I just wanted to say," Thalion continued softly, "if the bards sing of Arwen's beauty, they must surely fail. Because no song or poem can explain what I see now."
Arwen was silent. She did not reply, but her cheeks flushed slightly. The morning light reflected off her soft blue gown, making her seem to glow with a celestial light.
"Sometimes I think," Thalion whispered, "is what I see truly real, or just a dream too beautiful to believe."
Arwen raised her face, looking deeply into his eyes.
"If this is a dream," she said softly, "do not wake up yet."
The sound of small birds chirped above them, and the wind carried the faint fragrance of wildflowers. The world seemed to pause for a moment.
Thalion returned the gaze, and in his heart, he knew: his adventure had not yet begun, but he had found something he had never sought—a peace, and the possibility of a feeling growing amidst the petals of eternity.
The sun began to dip slowly behind the mountains, leaving streaks of orange dancing across the Rivendell sky. The sky and the valley gradually changed color—from bright blue to a warm violet. Golden light slipped through the leaves, making everything look like a living painting.
Arwen walked slightly ahead of Thalion, her long blue gown sweeping the fallen leaves softly on the stone path. She turned, a faint smile gracing her face.
"I want to show you one more place before the day truly turns to night," she said. "The main hall. My father welcomes important guests there, but it is also a quiet place if you wish to talk or reflect."
Thalion followed, without asking more. He felt no desire to end this togetherness, and even if he had to remain silent for the rest of the day, he would still feel content.
They descended stone steps surrounded by small hanging lamps filled with soft light. The main hall appeared at the end of the path—an elegant building with high arches, slender pillars entwined with climbing plants, and a raised roof with characteristic elven carvings.
As soon as they entered, the room was quiet, lit only by the warm glow of candles flickering from the pale stone walls. In the corner of the room, a small hearth held a calm fire that warmed the air. Large windows stood wide open, letting in the evening breeze and the sound of the flowing river.
Arwen walked to the center of the hall, then sat on one of the long, finely carved wooden benches. She patted the space beside her. "Sit. This is one of my favorite corners."
Thalion obeyed, sitting down slowly. He looked around the room in awe. "This place… feels like a combination of strength and tranquility."
Arwen nodded slowly. "Rivendell was created not only as a dwelling place, but as a sanctuary. This hall holds history, meetings, and decisions that changed the fate of the world."
She paused for a moment, then turned to him.
"So… tell me more about your homeland. About Rohan."
Thalion took a breath. "Rohan is a harsh land, vast and open. The wind of the plains sometimes sings a poignant song, but it also gives strength. We are raised to ride, to fight, to watch over one another. But not all of us seek war."
Arwen listened intently. "You seem to come from two worlds, Thalion. Your body carries the scent of earth and iron, but your words… hold something softer."
Thalion chuckled softly. "Perhaps because I do not fully belong to one place. I am like a seeker, who has not yet found his place."
Arwen looked down. "Sometimes, we do not need to search so hard. That place may come to you… when you stop running."
Thalion looked at her. "Are you speaking of a place… or someone?"
Arwen did not answer. But from the look in her eyes, Thalion knew she held the answer in her heart.
They sat together in silence, not because they had run out of words, but because silence felt sufficient. Only the flickering fire and the sound of the wind from the open windows kept them company that night.
And in the middle of that magnificent hall, two souls from two different worlds touched—not yet fully united, but already recognizing their direction towards each other.
After sitting together in pleasant silence for some time, Thalion looked at the wide-open windows of the hall. The night wind began to enter, caressing the leaves and carrying the characteristic scent of the valley—fresh, yet full of history.
Arwen glanced at him. "What are you thinking, Thalion?"
He turned his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. His hand slowly touched the hilt of the sword at his waist, which he had kept close all this time, but had never shown directly to anyone in Rivendell, including Arwen.
"I want to show you something, something important to me. This sword… is more than just a weapon."
Arwen watched him intently as Thalion slowly released the katana's scabbard from his waist. The sword was slender, with a blade slightly longer than ordinary elven swords, and it radiated a faint warmth that could be felt even before it was fully drawn.
"Its name… is Ryūjin Jakka," Thalion said softly, as if speaking the name of someone deeply respected.
Arwen's gaze sharpened. "That is not a name commonly heard in these lands."
"No," Thalion said. "This sword… was born from my blood. It was not forged with ordinary blacksmithing techniques. I imbued a part of my soul into it—through alchemical knowledge I learned from a distant land, and the power of the fire element I obtained from… a place that even I do not fully understand yet."
Arwen's eyes widened slightly, with both awe and concern. "You merged your soul with that sword? That is magic that is… deep. Dangerous."
Thalion nodded slowly. "But also beautiful. I do not use it carelessly. But tonight, if you would allow it, I want to show you a little… about us. About the collaboration between a human and a living soul of iron."
Arwen looked at him for a long moment, then smiled gently. "I trust you. But not too close, yes?"
Thalion chuckled softly, then stood up slowly. He took a few steps back to the center of the empty hall, beneath the high, echoing ceiling. Slowly, he drew the blade of Ryūjin Jakka from its scabbard.
As soon as the sword was fully unsheathed, a warm light spread like flowing flames from its blade. The air around them felt drier, hotter. Arwen stood watchfully, but remained calm. Her eyes were fixed on Thalion's figure, which now looked like a silhouette in the midst of a fire that did not burn.
"Do not be afraid. I control him, and he controls me," Thalion murmured, then raised the sword high.
In an instant, small flames circled his sword, forming faint symbols in the air—runic, but not originating from the elven tongue. His movements were slow, as if dancing, yet each swing brought a gentle gust of hot air, like the breath of a dragon.
Arwen covered her mouth, awestruck. "It is as if… the fire does not wish to burn. Only to show the beauty of its power."
Thalion finished his movements with a whirling slash, then sheathed Ryūjin Jakka again. Instantly, the hot aura vanished. The atmosphere returned to calm, with only a lingering warmth on the skin.
He turned to Arwen. "Ryūjin Jakka is not just a weapon. It is a reminder… that true strength is what you can control with love, not anger."
Arwen nodded slowly, then said, "You are not just a warrior, Thalion. You are also a poet. Even your fire knows how to speak."
Thalion smiled. "Perhaps it heard a gentle voice today."
They sat down together again, closer than before. The night in Rivendell was not over, and their conversation had only just begun.
The night wind of Rivendell blew softly through the open windows, carrying the tranquil scent of the valley and the fragrant aroma of fresh leaves. Thalion and Arwen still sat together in the hall, the light from elven lanterns reflecting a warm glow on the smooth stone walls adorned with historical carvings.
Arwen gazed at Ryūjin Jakka, which had returned to Thalion's waist. "Do you possess other techniques… more powerful than what you just showed me?"
Thalion nodded slowly. "There is one. But I have never shown it to anyone… and I cannot use it in such a beautiful place." He raised an eyebrow, as if delivering a gentle warning. "If I were to do it in this hall, we might need to rebuild half of Rivendell."
Arwen chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You make me even more intrigued. What is the name of this technique?"
"Jōkaku Enjō," Thalion replied, his voice slightly deeper. "In my language… it means a fortress engulfed in flames."
Arwen tilted her head. "A fortress engulfed in flames? That sounds… terrifying, yet beautiful."
Thalion offered a wry smile. "This technique is the highest form of Ryūjin Jakka's power that I can currently wield. When I activate it, pillars of fire erupt from the ground—the heat is like lava, but the movement is like a desire held back for too long. It burns elegantly. Not blindly, but directed… like a judge delivering a sentence with a single swing."
"What did you create such a technique to fight?" Arwen asked softly.
"Orcs," Thalion replied without hesitation. "They are becoming more active, more daring. I created Jōkaku Enjō not to show off power… but as protection. To eradicate those who bring destruction to this land that should be peaceful."
Arwen looked at him silently, saying nothing for a moment. But then she smiled, gently and with a hint of admiration. "I would like to see it someday. Not here, of course, but perhaps… in a place where fire and courage are needed."
Thalion met her gaze, there was something deep within it. "If you see it one day, I hope it is not because you are in danger. But if that day comes… I swear, Jōkaku Enjō will stand between the enemy and you."
Arwen smiled again, this time with a different warmth. "Then I shall never fear fire."
Night had fully descended upon the skies of Rivendell. Stars appeared one by one like small lights dancing above the leaves. Moonlight streamed through the hall windows, bathing them in a gentle, almost blessed light.
Thalion rose slowly from his seat, then reached into his long robe. His hand grasped a small box made of dark wood, finely carved with patterns of leaves and stars. He looked at Arwen for a moment, then offered it to her with both hands, respectfully.
"I wanted to give you something," he said softly.
Arwen accepted the box with raised eyebrows and a gentle smile forming on her lips. She carefully opened the lid.
Inside, a ring with a blue sapphire shimmered in the light. Its color was like a calm lake in the mountains, cool and radiating a deep tranquility.
"It's beautiful," Arwen murmured. "This color… it's like water that soothes the heart."
"I chose that sapphire for you," Thalion said. "Because you are like water. Calm, deep, and healing. But this ring is more than just jewelry."
Arwen looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"It's a storage ring. A ring of holding," Thalion explained. "It can store things… more than you can imagine. But to open it, you need to form a bond with it."
"What kind of bond?"
Thalion smiled faintly, then slightly opened his glove, revealing a faint scar on his finger. "Drop a single drop of your blood onto the sapphire. It will recognize you as its master."
Arwen looked at the ring for a moment, then back at Thalion. "Why are you giving me this?"
"Because you live in a beautiful place… but the world outside is not always as kind as Rivendell. I do not know where fate will lead you one day. But if that time comes, I want you to have something that can help you. And… I want you to have something from me."
Arwen was silent. The night wind blew softly past them, carrying the scent of pine and wisteria.
"Very well," she said finally. She took a small needle from her belt, pricked the tip of her finger, then let a drop of blood fall onto the surface of the sapphire.
As the blood touched the stone, a soft blue light glowed from the ring. For a moment, a faint sound like the whisper of wind could be heard in Arwen's ears—the ring recognized her, accepted her.
Thalion nodded slowly. "Now, it is yours."
Arwen looked at the ring, then at Thalion with a slightly deeper gaze. "Thank you… I will keep it safe."
"I know you will," Thalion whispered.