Kaen had been laboring in the Ashenwood Forest, guiding the Caladhîn Elves with his own hands as they raised their homes and shaped their dwelling-places.
But word came suddenly from the guards: Balin, chief counselor of Erebor, had arrived at Elarothiel with a company of Dwarves.
At once Kaen laid aside all his tasks and hastened to receive them.
When he returned to the royal halls upon King's Hill, he beheld from afar four or five dozen Dwarves resting in his gardens. They sat in weary clusters, armor battered, their mail and cloaks stained with dried green-black blood.
"Balin!" Kaen called as he strode forward.
The white-bearded Dwarf turned, joy springing to his face, and he bent low in reverence.
"Oh, Lord Kaen, it gladdens my heart beyond words to see you again! On this journey we have seen with our own eyes the prosperity of your kingdom and the marvel of your capital—fair as a dream."
Kaen smiled. "Your praise is welcome, my friend, and I bid you all be greeted in my realm."
Yet his gaze fell to the blood upon Balin's armor, and his voice grew grave.
"Tell me, what has befallen you, that you come in such a state?"
"Alas, it is a long tale." Balin sighed deeply, then recounted their journey.
Since Thorin Oakenshield had reclaimed Erebor, wandering Dwarves of Durin's folk from the East had begun to return. Half a year had passed, and Erebor grew again into wealth. Yet Thorin remembered that many of their kindred still dwelt in the Blue Mountains. He therefore sent Balin with a hundred warriors to bring them home.
So Balin set forth, westward past Dale, through the Woodland Realm, and down the Anduin Valley to Tusgar, then across the High Pass of the Misty Mountains.
But there they were assailed. Orcs fell upon them in ambush. A bitter battle was fought, and more than half the company was lost ere they broke through.
"Kaen, Lord of Eowenría," Balin said, "I pondered much upon the road. That assault was no chance encounter. Those Orcs were drilled, their strikes and withdrawals ordered as if by command. At the High Pass they had raised barriers upon the road, forbidding passage to any outsiders. I fear you know what this means: the Orcs seek to cut East from West, sundering our peoples."
Kaen's brows drew tight. In truth he was not wholly surprised, for when he had returned triumphant through those same passes, the thought had stirred in his heart. Yet he had not guessed the darkness would move so swiftly. Already, though beaten, it had set snares upon the mountain ways.
These months he had been consumed with governance, writing only now and again to Lord Elrond, but he had spared little heed for tidings beyond his borders. Had Balin not come, it might have been long before he marked the enemy's work.
After pondering a while he answered: "The tidings you bring are grave indeed. I shall send scouts to learn the truth. If need be, I will march forth an army."
At this, Balin bowed low. "That is well. The High Pass is the lifeline between East and West. If it falls into shadow, it will bode ill for us all."
Kaen gave the Dwarves generous hospitality.
The next day he penned a letter to Lord Elrond, recounting Balin's plight and begging that he send a force to survey the Pass.
As they waited for reply, Balin and his folk prepared to depart. Their road stretched far across the West, a journey of leagues unnumbered. It might be years before Kaen and Balin met again.
Ten days later, Elrond's answer came: Balin's fears were true. The High Pass was indeed held under the dark hand.
Kaen then bent his spirit into the Arkenstone and gazed eastward, across the upper vales of the Anduin. He saw them peaceful and green, fields tilled along the banks, herds pastured on the meadows. He beheld Yenagath dwelling with the Caladhîn Elves in the forests, Domhere governing the folk of Tusgar, and Andric patrolling the valley upon horseback.
Through the stone he spoke to them all:
"Yenagath: muster two thousand Caladhîn warriors and watch the Misty Mountains for the stirrings of Orcs.
"Andric: keep guard upon Mount Gundabad to the north and Dol Guldur in the southern wood. If need presses, send at once to the Woodland Realm for aid.
"Domhere: strengthen Tusgar's walls, raise them higher, and store grain in plenty. The High Pass is sealed. War may soon be upon us. Be ready."
In three far places the same voice echoed in their minds. Startled, they lifted their eyes toward the Tower of the King in Tusgar, then bent their knees as one.
"As you command, my lord!"
"As you command, High King!"
….
Meanwhile, in the West Eowenría, the inner works of the city pressed on apace. Joanna and her engineers had drawn the forest's many streams into one mighty moat, twenty meters wide, ten deep even at its shallowest, circling the city like a silver belt. Bridges spanned the water at four points, each crafted so that in dire hour they could be destroyed.
Beside each bridge rose a watchtower one hundred meters high, answering the towers that crowned the cliffs of Elarothiel.
And Kaen's great design of Elves and higher Men unfolded steadily. From eight white gems he wrought eight Stars of Watch, fashioned after the Star of Eowenríel,the arkenstone. Upon the towers they were set, shedding silver by night and gold by day, bathing the woods in Kaen's radiance.
Men of Eowenría grew in strength, and they named it the King's gift, bowing in faith unshaken. The Caladhîn Elves of Caerilassil felt changes more wondrous: their sense for the elements sharpened, and their dark green hair slowly lightened until it shone golden.
Even in the far Anduin valley the same transformation touched Yenagath's folk. They said it was the High King's light, purifying them and making them stronger, their hearts cleansed of shadow.
Thus the realm grew in strength, even as darkness gathered beyond.