Sylas gazed at the golden cup in his hand, a smile spreading across his face.
Unlike the Sword of Gryffindor or the Diadem of Ravenclaw, the Cup of Hufflepuff was not made for battle or wisdom. Instead, it was a grail of healing, a vessel that mended wounds, nourished the body, and replenished magic.
Even basilisk venom could be cured by its power; it was the only antidote besides phoenix tears. Not only that, it could summon and multiply food, and produce an endless flow of fine, or whatever drink one might desire.
Having succeeded in consecrating the golden cup, Sylas left the stone circle, intending to keep it close for journeys and feasts alike. The circle itself he did not dismantle. It remained at Weathertop as a silent monument, perhaps it would serve again one day.
With that, he stepped through the Floo-fire and returned to Rivendell.
"Did you succeed?" Arwen asked softly, her voice carrying both gentleness and concern. She too had seen the starlight blaze over Weathertop, and though she trusted him, she had longed to hear the answer.
Sylas smiled and nodded. "Yes. It worked."
Relief flooded her eyes, and her face brightened with joy. "Congratulations!" she said warmly.
Since their return to Weathertop, Arwen had remained in Rivendell under Elrond's wishes, and her brothers Elrohir and Elladan's careful watch. Though she and Sylas loved one another, custom still kept them apart until a wedding bound their fates.
Besides, Arwen now had her hands full. Sylas had gifted her a Pegasus foal, which she raised with devoted care in the gardens of Rivendell. The white-winged horse quickly became the pride of the valley, admired by every Elf. Elrohir and Elladan eyed it with envy, and even Elrond often came to see the creature.
Perceptive as ever, Sylas noticed their fondness and promised to breed three more for them. That promise earned him a rare warmth from his stern future kin. The foals were already being tended in Isengard, awaiting birth.
As if summoned by the thought, a neigh echoed above the valley. Sylas and Arwen looked up to see a Pegasus descending from the sky, its pearly coat gleaming in the sunlight. It was magnificent, with the strength and speed of the Mearas and the sharp vision of the Great Eagles.
With a joyful cry, it folded its wings and alighted on the stone platform. The Pegasus nuzzled Arwen first, then turned affectionately toward Sylas.
He stroked its silky mane with fondness. Arwen had named it Elenoros, Star-horse. Still young, it was already taller than any steed in Rivendell, its wings broad and powerful. The Elves adored it, some even whispering of pairing it to breed more winged horses of their own. Elves had their ambitions, too.
After soothing the Pegasus, Sylas and Arwen went to see Elrond.
The Lord of Rivendell greeted them with his usual calm, eyes deep with wisdom. "All went well?" he asked, though the spark in his gaze showed he already guessed the answer.
"I fulfilled your charge," Sylas replied, and placed the golden cup in his hands.
Elrond examined it closely, his expression shifting to astonishment. He had heard Sylas speak of forging a vessel before, but it was only when the heavens lit with Saturn's fire that he understood its true purpose. He had once seen the Crown of Wisdom Sylas carried, and even worn it for a time, but this Cup impressed him more deeply still.
As a healer, Elrond felt its power at once. Healing, nourishment, renewal, the very essence of his craft lay within this chalice. He returned it with a smile, saying, "With this Cup, my own skill as a physician is nearly made redundant. I doubt any poison in Middle-earth could overcome it."
But Sylas shook his head. "You flatter me, my lord. This Cup is but a tool. Useful, yes, but not almighty, and certainly no match for your knowledge, nor for the Ring of Air upon your hand."
He meant it sincerely.
Elrond did not refute Sylas's words. He looked at his daughter standing beside him, smiled kindly, and said,
"With this golden cup, your safety will be far greater. When you journey to the East, Elwing and I will be more at ease."
Then he turned to Sylas.
"When do you plan to set out for the East to seek the remaining materials for the Philosopher's Stone?"
Sylas shook his head. "There is no rush. The East is Sauron's domain, and the location of Hildórien is uncertain. I would rather prepare thoroughly before I go. Better to wait until the Resurrection Stone is complete, perhaps I can summon someone who knows its whereabouts."
Elrond nodded in approval. "You think wisely. But do not put all your hopes upon the Resurrection Stone. If you wish to find Hildórien and recover the Salt of the Flesh/Body, I would counsel you to seek the two Blue Wizards.
Like Mithrandir, they came over the sea from the West, even earlier than he did. They have long dwelt in the East, quietly stirring rebellion against Sauron's servants and aiding the free peoples there. If anyone knows of Hildórien, it may be they."
"The Blue Wizards?" Sylas asked in surprise. "Lord Elrond, do you know them?"
Of the five who had come to Middle-earth, the two clad in blue were the most mysterious. The histories said little of them. After crossing the Sea, they passed swiftly eastward, beyond the knowledge of the West, and did not return. Sylas knew only scraps, that they had once served Oromë the Huntsman among the Valar, and that their fate after the War of the Ring was uncertain.
Elrond shook his head. "I met them but once. They came to the Grey Havens, and from there traveled the East-West road to Rivendell. I welcomed them here in my halls. They did not linger. After crossing the Misty Mountains, they turned eastward, and I have not seen them again.
I have heard only rumors since, that they walk in secret among the Eastern lands, raising resistance against Sauron, thwarting his designs, and limiting his strength."
Sylas leaned forward. "What are their names? What are they called?"
Elrond rose and moved to the pool. With a gesture of his hand, the still water rippled and opened, revealing a vision. Two figures appeared, both clad in deep blue robes. One was a broad man with a short brown beard; the other thinner, with a longer grey beard, though shorter than Gandalf's or Saruman's.
Elrond pointed. "This is Alatar." Then he gestured to the second. "And this is Pallando. They are called the Ithryn Luin, the Blue Wizards. They are close companions, seldom apart.
If you would find Hildórien, seek them in the East. They may yet guide you."
He let the image fade and added gravely, "I do not know them well. Perhaps Radagast or Mithrandir could tell you more. They are of the same order, and may share knowledge of each other's paths.
And…" Elrond frowned, his gaze darkening. "There is another who once knew them well, Saruman. In elder days, he traveled into the East with them, but returned alone. Of all in Middle-earth, it may be Saruman who best understands the East… and the Blue Wizards."
But now that Saruman had turned traitor, there was no asking him about the East.
After hearing what little Elrond could tell him of the Blue Wizards, Sylas did not linger. He took leave of Arwen, and instead of returning to Weathertop, he turned his steps toward Isengard.
Isengard could not be abandoned. To guard it against both Saruman's schemes and Mordor's reach, Sylas had poured nearly half his strength into its defense.
Yet of late, he felt some of the burden lift. His guardians, Cerberus the three-headed dog, the griffin, and the hippogriff, had grown swiftly, their power formidable. With them watching the tower and its valley, the constant weight of vigilance had eased from his shoulders.
Even so, without such allies the task might have been overwhelming.
He stepped from the green fire of the Floo upon the first floor of Orthanc, and at once a shadow loomed before him. Cerberus, the three-headed dog, towered like a living mountain.
By his enchantments, Sylas had stretched the chamber of the tower's base into a vast hall the size of a football field, ample space for such beasts to dwell.
The dog lay sprawled upon the floor. Its left and right heads snored in deep slumber, while the middle one remained awake, ever-watchful.
The moment Sylas appeared from the hearth, the watchful head turned, eyes narrowing in suspicion, lips curling in a silent snarl.
Then recognition dawned. The menace melted away, replaced by joy. All three heads stirred, tails thumped against the stone, tongues lolled happily, and the immense beast rumbled with a sound that was half-growl, half-purr.
Sylas laughed softly. "Alright, alright, I understand, Cerberus. I'm here to see you, aren't I?"
He reached up to stroke the broad muzzle, steadying himself as the beast pressed forward, nearly bowling him over with its eager affection.