"Do I understand correctly?" Thranduil leaned forward, his brows slightly arched. "You wish to build a road that cuts straight across the dark forest?"
"Yes," Eric replied without hesitation.
"Very well." The Elvenking nodded with surprising ease, then added, "Whether you use our Woodland Path or the Old Forest Road to the south, both are open to you."
The great forest had two existing routes. The first, the Woodland Path, led directly from the forest's western gate to Thranduil's halls. Long ago, it had stretched all the way to the eastern edge of Mirkwood and beyond to Erebor, but the encroaching marshes had drowned much of it. Now only the portion leading to the Elvenking's halls remained passable. Gandalf himself, too long absent from those lands, had mistakenly assumed the entire road still held. That error had led him to recommend it to Thorin Oakenshield and his company years ago, which in turn had ended rather poorly.
The second road, the Old Forest Road, ran along the southern foothills of the great wood. It had once been a proud trade route, but centuries of neglect had left it swallowed by roots, branches, and worse. Creatures of the darker kind prowled nearby, making it far from safe.
"Neither path is in good shape," Thranduil admitted, his tone unusually generous. "If you need, I could even spare some of my folk to aid in repairs."
For him, the matter was simple. Someone willing to improve the roads was a boon to all, and Eric had already proven himself an ally of worth. To grant permission seemed obvious.
Yet Eric only shook his head.
"No. I don't want either of those." He pointed instead to the straight line he had sketched across the map. "This is the route I mean to build."
"A new road?" Thranduil bent closer, his pale eyes narrowing. The line did not curve or bend, but sliced boldly across the land. "It crosses the Anduin Valley, through the Misty Mountains, and…" His voice caught slightly. "Is that the Trollshaws?"
"Quite right." Eric nodded.
"You cannot be serious. Do you believe such a road is safe?"
The Elvenking's tone carried a sharp edge now, as if he were trying to remind his overeager companion not to waste lives and resources on a fool's errand.
"Perfectly safe," Eric said with cheerful confidence. "Because I won't build it on the ground. I want to make a Sky Road, high above the forest canopy."
At that, both Thranduil and Gandalf drew together in the same frown. They tried to picture what Eric described, but their imaginations stalled somewhere between disbelief and headache.
The Elvenking shot Gandalf a look. You knew about this, didn't you?
Gandalf slowly shook his head and gave the most reliable answer possible. "I had no idea."
Eric pressed on, as if unveiling some grand design. "The road will have regular platforms or nodes. At each one, a ramp wide enough for wagons, and another for foot traffic. With these, travelers can ascend or descend as needed."
"This is still Middle-earth, is it not?" Gandalf muttered under his breath. He stroked his beard, half-tempted to advise Eric to sail west to Lindon, find Círdan, commission a ship, and beg the Valar themselves to construct this marvel. Mortal hands were not meant for such wonders.
Thranduil shook his head firmly. "It is absurd. By the time such a road is finished, even the Elves may have faded."
"Impossible, you say?" Eric stood and with a flick summoned the strange aura of the [Wallbuilder] title. "Tell me then—how long do you think it took me to raise the wall around Dale?"
He held up three fingers.
"Less than three days. And it would have been faster had I not added magma channels and traps."
"You mean to build it yourself?" Gandalf asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"Of course. Who else?"
At this, the wizard relaxed ever so slightly. With Eric's uncanny craft, tireless as he was, perhaps such a road might not be sheer madness. Perhaps, in a decade or so, the thing could truly exist.
Thranduil looked between the two of them, utterly unconvinced. "Are you both quite certain you are sober? Mithrandir, do you still claim to be in your right mind?"
"Yes," Gandalf replied gravely. "Thank you for asking. Entirely sound."
The Elvenking exhaled and decided, quite firmly, that only one sensible being remained at this table—and it was himself.
Eric chuckled. "You need not trouble yourself, my lord. Leave everything to me. All I require is your permission. I mean to build a path high above the trees, where travelers can walk beneath the sun and moon. Will you allow it?"
Thranduil stared at him, then rose with a sigh, resigned. "Why not? Do as you please, my friend." He turned away. "I will not waste more words on this."
In truth, so long as Eric did not propose tunneling through the Elvenking's own halls, Thranduil was content to let him indulge in his eccentricities.
"Then keep your eyes open," Eric declared with a grin. "You will see my masterpiece soon enough."
"I shall look forward to it," Thranduil replied dryly. "For now, since both of you are here, I have arranged a banquet. Let us speak of lighter matters there."
With that, the Elvenking swept from the chamber, his long robe trailing behind him.
Eric watched him go and muttered, "Is he treating me like a child?"
Gandalf lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug. "That was the impression, yes."
Eric drew in a breath. Fine. No use arguing with someone centuries old. He had the permit, and that was what mattered. The Sky Road would pass not only through Elven lands but also near Orc territory. That was manageable. Clear away the Orcs and no one remained to object.
Once Thranduil had gone, Gandalf's expression grew grave. "There is another matter I should raise. It concerns Saruman."
Eric tilted his head, intrigued. "Go on."
"Saruman is the most powerful among us," Gandalf said carefully, "and the most learned. I would rather not doubt him, but his studies and his recent movements give me pause."
"Oh?" Eric leaned in with interest. "What exactly has he been up to?"
"Too much time spent on the lore of rings," Gandalf admitted quietly. "His library is full of notes on their forging. That might not be strange, given his service to Aulë, the smith-lord. But beyond that, I found hints of other magics in his writings. Dark things. Spells so obscure that even I could scarcely follow them. And the feeling they left behind was…"
He hesitated. The word sat heavy in his mind but refused to leave his lips.
Evil.
Gandalf did not speak it aloud.
The shadow of suspicion, however, had been planted.