In the eighth year of the Age of the Golden Tree — the Third Age, 2953 by the reckoning of Men, Kaen Eowenríel departed from Isengard, his duty there fulfilled and peace restored to that fair valley. The time had come to return northward to his own realm.
When he made ready to leave, the people gathered in their thousands to bid him farewell. Saruman himself came forth to the gates of Orthanc, bearing in his hands a small wooden chest. "Kaen," he said, his voice calm but touched with solemnity, "the Palantír — though mighty, no longer holds meaning for me. I have seen too much through its depths, and too little that was true. I would rather it serve you now, for you possess the will to master what it shows."
He paused, then added, "Remember this: the seeing-stone reveals not truth nor falsehood, but only what the heart seeks. If your will is steadfast and your purpose pure, it will unveil truth. But if your mind is clouded, it shall mirror your own desire and deceive you."
Kaen received the chest without protest and inclined his head. "Then I shall guard it, and use it with wisdom. I will return to the North, but if ever you need counsel, send word by the birds, they will find me."
Saruman bowed deeply, sunlight glinting from his white robes. "May your road be lit by bright stars," he said, "and your days warmed by the golden sun."
…
Kaen and his escort did not take the South-North Road back toward the western lands of Eowenría. Instead, he chose a quieter route through the plains of Rohan, intending to reach the midwaters of the Anduin and sail northward by its winding course.
King Thengel of Rohan, honoring their alliance, sent a company of Riders to accompany him to the river's edge. There, beneath the rolling skies, Kaen clasped the captain's forearm in farewell. "Bear my greetings to your king," he said. "Thank him for his friendship and his honor. May the herds of Rohan grow ever stronger, and her people dwell in peace."
Then Kaen and his companions boarded their vessels and set out upon the Anduin. The river's broad back carried them silently through the heart of Middle-earth. Half a month they traveled, and at last the silver waters brought them to Lothlórien — the Golden Wood.
There upon the bank awaited a white elven ship, its sail gleaming faintly with its own inner light. A Sindarin elf stepped forward and bowed. "Prince Kaen," he said, "the Blue Tree — Lúna Olonta — has felt your presence drawing near. Lady Galadriel herself bade us await your coming."
Kaen stood upon the prow, the wind stirring his cloak. "Then lead the way," he said quietly. "Without your guidance, we could never hope to find the forest's hidden paths."
The elf nodded, and the ships glided forward, slipping through a veil of mist into the Silverlode River.
…
Eight years had passed since Kaen last set foot in Lothlórien, yet the land was unchanged — still wondrous, still serene beyond mortal measure. Here, time itself seemed to move in song.
From afar he beheld the vast Blue Tree, Lúna Olonta, rising amidst the sea of green like a pillar of crystal. Its branches shimmered with glacial light, its leaves shone in waves of azure flame, breathing the essence of wind and water. Under its protection, the Elves of Lórien glowed with ethereal radiance; their forms seemed woven of light and music, their eyes deep as starlit wells.
When Kaen crossed the threshold of the forest, the great tree stirred. A pulse of joy rippled through the air, the earth hummed softly beneath his feet. Birds cried out in delight, beasts pranced through the glades, flowers turned their faces toward him. The very air welcomed him home.
And at the harbor below the silvered walls of Caras Galadhon, a slender figure in white awaited him.
Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar of her people, stood among the gathered elves, her hair flowing like midnight silk, her eyes deep with the light of memory. She had not changed at all since he last beheld her, years ago upon this very quay.
When Kaen disembarked, she came forward, her gaze soft, her hand rising to touch his cheek. "You have changed," she whispered, her voice like the murmur of leaves. "Years have tempered you, my beloved."
Kaen caught her hand in his. "Perhaps," he said, "but unlike you, who dwell beyond the years, I have not grown used to their passing. Time only deepens what I feel for you."
Arwen's smile trembled like moonlight on water. "I know your burden is great," she said, "and that the fate of many rests upon your shoulders. Yet remember when your thoughts turn to me, I shall still be here, until you come to claim me and bring me home."
There was no indulgence in their words, only the quiet certainty of love that endures beyond distance and time. Together they walked beneath the trees of Lórien, where the air shimmered with living light.
Within the city of the Golden Wood, beauty reigned as if in a dream. Bridges of woven silver crossed rivers of glass; flowers glowed softly like lanterns; towers rose like pillars of frost. All of it pulsed gently beneath the blessing of the Blue Tree's power.
Arwen told him that her twin brothers had returned from Rivendell two years past and now served beside their grandmother and grandfather, aiding in the governance of the realm.
Atop the high flets of Caras Galadhon, the twin rulers awaited his arrival. Galadriel herself stood radiant as dawn, and beside her, Celeborn wise and proud.
"Welcome home, Kaen," said Galadriel, her voice like silver bells upon the air. "The forest rejoices at your return."
Celeborn nodded gravely. "To our people, you and Arwen are as light and hope entwined — the saviors of what was fading. Know that this forest will always be your home."
Kaen bowed deeply, a rare smile touching his lips. "To be welcomed thus by Lórien is an honor beyond measure. My heart is glad — for I love all that you are, and all that you have given to Middle-earth."
And so he dwelt in Lothlórien for a time, finding rest among the immortal boughs.
…
Peace lay across the lands, but Kaen knew it for what it was, the quiet before the storm. The Dark Lord Sauron had been silent too long; and in silence, shadows fester. In the North, the remnant of Angmar yet lingered, watching. So long as Kaen lived, the Witch-king would not move, but eternity could not be relied upon.
He had begun to ponder his own nature. The years passed, yet his face had not changed. Years had gone by since he first crossed into this world, yet he remained as he had been — strong, unaged, untouched by time.
Was it immortality? Or merely the long vigor of his mythic strength? Even his people, blessed by his light, lived thrice the span of ordinary Men. Surely he could not be bound to a mere century.
But Kaen did not fear death. He had achieved more than any mortal king before him. Should his end come, he would meet it with serenity, his duty done and his legacy eternal.
For now, he lingered in peace, spending his days beside Arwen beneath the whispering canopy of trees. Together they walked by the rivers, rode through the starlit meadows, and spoke little, for silence between them said enough.
He planned soon to visit Taurëmírë, then go northward to Tusgar, and at last return to Elarothiel in Eowenría.
But fate does not always grant the peace it promises.
One night, upon the river that wound through the City of a Thousand Trees, Kaen lay resting in Arwen's arms. The stars were mirrored in the water, and the Blue Tree's glow shimmered above them like a gentle aurora.
Then, without warning, Arwen stirred. Her keen elven ears had caught something strange — the sound of waves, vast and roaring.
She froze, her eyes wide. Waves? But Lothlórien lay far inland, countless leagues from any sea.
The sound grew louder, echoing through the dark. It was as if the ocean itself were stirring beneath the forest. She shook Kaen awake, her voice trembling.
He rose, alert in an instant. Together they listened and from the darkness came a whisper, soft yet vast, like a voice carried upon the tide.
The words were too faint to grasp… but the air shivered with foreboding, and the river at their feet began to ripple as though something deep beneath the world had begun to wake.
…