For more than a year the light of Kaen had poured ceaselessly upon his folk. Under its blessing, the realm of Eowenría was transformed.
The race of ordinary Men underwent a second flowering. Their bodies grew hard and tall; their women fair and hale. In strength they rose to match the Dúnedain of old.
The Dúnedain themselves, already blessed with long life and might from the Valar, became greater still. Under the system's gift and the King's radiance, many among them were lifted into the ranks of true heroes.
As for the Caladhîn Elves, their change was more wondrous. All their hair had turned to misted gold, glimmering in both sun and moon, a sign unique to their kind. Their strength of spirit and of body had risen to rival the Sindar, and still it climbed.
The army of Eowenríel, too, grew in stature.
Foot-archers, once between veteran and elite, were now wholly elite.
Bow-riders, once elite, now verged on the highest ranks.
Heavy infantry and heavy cavalry, once near the top, now stood firm among the greatest.
And the King's Guard, already the pride of the realm, advanced toward legend. If the light endured, they would become the sole living force in Middle-earth worthy of that title.
The heroes of the realm, though not yet among the mightiest legends, had climbed near that threshold.
…
Half a year after Bilbo's departure, calamity struck.
From Dol Guldur came a host of red-eyed warg-riders, near a hundred in number. These were no rabble, but the direct kin of Sauron's armies, clad in fine gear and cunning in mind. By night they split their force: one fell upon the forests, clashing with Yenagath and the Caladhîn Elves; the other struck at Tusgar, where Andric led the defense.
Their assault was no raid of chance. Like the red-eyed Orcs that once flung themselves in ruin against the Woodland Realm, they came with purpose. Though some were slain, others slipped away into the wilds.
Through the Star of Eowenríel,Arkenstone Kaen beheld all, and pondering long, he saw the truth: this was no raid but a test. Sauron sought proof of what he already suspected.
The lives of the red-eyed riders were spent to learn it. In the clash their foes revealed strength beyond measure: the Caladhîn Elves' golden change, the Men of East Eowenría hardening in body. Sauron's guess had been confirmed.
Not long after, new riders came: from Angmar in the north, through the Ettendales they swept, pouring south into Eowenríel's western marches. Spotted by heavy cavalry on patrol, they broke apart into scattered bands of three or five, slipping past to strike at the heartlands.
Caden of Thalorien, commander of heavy horse, rode swiftly forth and cut them down. Yet more kept coming: wargs in twos and threes, even lone scouts, always pressing deeper.
Kaen knew: Sauron was probing, seeking whether the West too was guarded by such light as shone at Tusgar. For The Dark Lord had already pricked him as a thorn in the flesh.
Remember: this was the same Dark Lord who had plotted for thousands of years. He had drowned Númenor, broken the North-kingdom of Arnor, and sapped Gondor's strength until it dwindled. Since the Last Alliance, no race of Middle-earth had truly recovered.
But now Kaen had arisen, bearing a radiance like the Two Trees of Valinor, quickening Elves and Men alike. No wonder he was Sauron's bane.
And Kaen knew: should Sauron discover that this light flowed from Kaen himself, he would spare no cost to strike down Eowenríel and slay its King.
Thus Kaen resolved: the secret must be hidden longer, and before long he must strike first.
He ordered the gathering of four thousand riders in the northern marches: three regiments of bow-riders and one of heavy cavalry, to hunt down all warg-bands approaching the realm. To guard against the enemy's fell bats, Artemis loosed her white birds in hosts, wheeling through the skies.
Then Kaen went in search of Gandalf.
The old wizard was in the quarter of the folk, amusing children with sparks from the Ring of Fire. At Kaen's grave approach he dismissed them quickly.
"I see heaviness in you," Gandalf said, eyes narrowing. "A shadow I have never marked before. What ill news has come?"
"You are right," Kaen answered. "A peril so great that mishandling it could mean the fall of my realm."
Gandalf blinked, then gave a brittle laugh. "Oh, heavens! Perhaps my ears deceive me. I pray you jest."
"I do not jest," Kaen said sternly. "Sauron's eye is upon theArkenstone—or rather, upon the light that flows from me."
The wizard's smile faded. His face grew taut. "This is no small matter," he murmured. "My happy leisure is ended."
"Yes," Kaen said. "Your rest is done. I need you, by whatever means, to reach Lothlórien in half a month. Persuade Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn to march on Dol Guldur."
"Half a month?!" Gandalf exclaimed. "Unless I sprout wings, such a thing is impossible!" He grumbled, muttering of folly.
Then suddenly he froze. His eyes widened, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Unless… perhaps I could fly."
….