Thanks to his innate gift of Legilimency, he could communicate effortlessly with the three-headed wolf.
"You've guarded this place well, Cerberus. This is your reward!"
Luke summoned a large pile of meat with the golden cup and conjured a big basin of milk for it.
Just then, the other two sleeping heads awoke, stirred by Luke's scent and the aroma of food. They immediately began vying for his attention, acting affectionate and playful.
The middle head was no less eager, joining in the scramble for affection.
Crushed between three massive heads, Luke was nearly smothered by their heavy display of love. Both amused and exasperated, he quickly conjured more food to divert their attention.
After calming the three-headed wolf, Luke went to check on the other creatures.
The griffin perched atop the tower. Though smaller than the wolf, it had inherited the genes of a giant eagle. Even as a juvenile, it was larger than a full-grown lion.
Unlike the clingy wolf, the griffin was aloof and reserved, like a cool-tempered feline. It enjoyed Luke's petting and was close to him, but it remained dignified, never initiating affection.
The griffin was highly intelligent and exceptionally loyal, carrying out Luke's orders meticulously. It patrolled daily around Isengard and nearby lands, monitoring the surroundings from the sky.
In Luke's absence, it had even caught several Orcs from the Misty Mountains behind Isengard, tearing them apart with its sharp claws and beak.
Luke discovered this from the griffin's memories and was pleasantly surprised. He stroked its sharp beak and patted its neck.
"Well done, Aslan. You are my pride!" Luke praised.
The griffin Aslan was thrilled. It flapped its wings and let out a cry, a sound between a lion's roar and an eagle's screech. From that day forward, it carried out its duties even more diligently, determined to let no trespasser enter its master's domain.
As for the Hippogriff, less intelligent than both the griffin and the three-headed wolf, Luke let it roam freely in Isengard's forests with its mother, the mare that birthed it.
The Hippogriff had grown to nearly the same size as its mother. Still young and staying close to her, it was already capable of hunting small animals such as rabbits and mice, while occasionally grazing on grass stems and wild berries.
Despite its wings and flying ability, the Hippogriff preferred life on the ground.
Additionally, Luke had built a stable within the circular walls, housing several Mearas horses captured from the grasslands. These horses were now pregnant with hybrids of giant eagles and horses.
The only uncertainty was whether they would birth Hippogriffs or winged horses.
After all, magical hybridization could not control the outcome; the resulting species depended entirely on luck.
The winged horses Luke had promised Elrond, Ellohir, and Elrohir would come from these embryos.
Besides these, Luke had also set up an underground breeding facility.
It contained embryos from hybrids of dragons and giant lizards, as well as dragons and pythons, all implanted into surrogate mothers for gestation.
Currently, all were stable with no complications.
Luke's ultimate goal was to create a subspecies of dragon.
Similar to the dragons of the Harry Potter world, even if they could not speak and had limited intelligence, nearly every part of their body was immensely valuable.
Dragon nerves could craft powerful wands; dragon hide could be fashioned into protective gloves and coats; dragon blood had various magical uses; dragon scales could create enchanted shields or barriers; dragon hearts and livers could brew rare potions; even dragon dung was prized as fertilizer for magical plants.
Dragons were treasure troves from head to tail.
Many of Luke's magical experiments required dragon parts, but he could not use Smaug.
Even drawing a little blood had left Smaug deeply unsettled, let alone anything more invasive.
Thus, Luke planned to breed a type of lesser dragon to spare Smaug from living in constant fear of dissection.
Unintentionally, his actions aligned with the plans of Sauron and Saruman.
As time passed, the first to bear results were the giant lizards.
These lizards, captured for Luke by the great eagle Sorondor from the Misty Mountains, were over seven meters long—ferocious mountain beasts feared even by Orcs.
Normally, a giant lizard could lay several eggs, but this time it laid only one, slightly larger than an ostrich egg.
The egg was hard, resembling an oval stone patterned with strange markings.
When tapped, it sounded like striking rock.
Staring at this enormous egg, Luke wasn't sure how to incubate it.
He went to Smaug for advice.
Smaug was curious as well. He knew Luke was hybridizing his blood with other creatures, and he sensed a faint blood connection to the egg.
But expecting Smaug to feel paternal instincts was foolish. Dragons had no sense of familial affection. They would even kill their own kind over treasure—parents and children included.
This was one reason dragon numbers had dwindled in the Third Age, leaving Smaug the only famous one alive.
Moreover, the egg was only a hybrid of his bloodline, not a pure dragon.
So Smaug's interest was fleeting. Still, he advised Luke: fire dragon eggs must be incubated at high temperatures. He himself had hatched in geothermal fire.
Taking his advice, Luke placed the dragon egg in an iron pot, set it over a fire, and even covered the lid so it baked evenly.
While waiting for the egg to hatch, the python laid three eggs from its dragon hybrid.
These eggs delighted Luke. They were smaller than the first, about the size of an ostrich egg, with patterns resembling snake scales.
At the same time, the mares in the stable began giving birth.
The eight mares delivered three Hippogriffs and five winged horses.
Now, both species had their own populations.
Luke arranged for the Hippogriffs to live in the forests of Isengard with the earlier one, even entrusting them to the care of the Ents in nearby Fangorn Forest.
As for the five winged horses—one black, one gray, two red, and one moon-white—they were majestic and beautiful.
Luke was satisfied. He planned to give the black winged horse to Elrond, the two red ones to Ellohir and Elrohir, and the gray and moon-white horses to Celeborn and Galadriel in Lothlórien.
When news of their birth spread, the usually calm and composed Elrond personally teleported from Rivendell, accompanied by the eager Ellohir and Elrohir—and Arwen, smiling with excitement.
Luke was surprised but amused. He had never seen Elrond so animated, so unlike the usual steady and wise Lord of Rivendell. Clearly, the elves cherished winged horses deeply.
Luke led them to the stable.
Without a word from him, Elrond's eyes went straight to the majestic black horse, while Ellohir and Elrohir chose the red ones.
Luke smiled, knowing he had chosen wisely.
Arwen's eyes sparkled like starlight as she said happily, "Now Elenor won't be lonely anymore. He'll have companions to fly with."
Then she looked at the gray and moon-white horses and asked, "Luke, have you decided what to do with these two?"
Luke nodded. "I plan to gift them to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. I just hope they'll like them."
Of course, Celeborn and Galadriel loved the gifts.
Celeborn favored the gray horse, its coat shimmering like silver in sunlight. He even built a fine, elegant stable for it.
Galadriel kept the moon-white horse in her private garden, where it drank magical fountain water and grazed on enchanted grass.
Luke was surprised at how beloved the winged horses were among the elves. But soon his surprise gave way to pride.
Because of them, his status among the elves rose greatly.
The elves named the creatures "Pegasi" and honored Luke with the title "Lord of the Pegasi."
Yet Luke's attention soon shifted back to the dragon eggs.
After a month of high-heat incubation, the first egg finally began to hatch.
The scorching egg shook violently in the iron pot. Luke quickly moved it off the fire, levitating it onto a table.
The egg rocked harder, cracks spreading across its shell, until it split apart, revealing a slimy, fluid-covered baby dragon.
It had black scales, yellow eyes, bronze-colored horns, and a long tail tipped with spikes.
Luke carefully collected the eggshell and remaining fluid for potion ingredients, then bent closer to observe the hatchling.
The baby dragon let out a faint but defiant growl.
Luke raised an eyebrow. Fierce already?
He reached out cautiously.
The baby dragon spat a spark of fire at him, but it fizzled against an invisible barrier.
Luke examined it carefully.
The hatchling had inherited fire-breathing, though its flames were weaker than a true dragon's. Its intelligence was also low, slightly above that of a wild animal. Still, it shared a dragon's instinctive fascination with treasure, albeit less intensely.
Thus, Middle-earth's first lesser dragon was born.
A week later, the three python-dragon hybrid eggs hatched.
These hatchlings were black, long-bodied, with golden horns, fine scales, and the appearance of serpentine dragons, though they bore four legs and wings.
Luke was very pleased.
Though their magical power and intelligence were far inferior to true dragons, they were still formidable. And every part of their bodies was valuable.
With these new creatures, Luke decided to establish a dragon farm in the Misty Mountains, raising lesser dragons in separate areas.
He personally went into the mountains, cleared a vast space with magic, drove away Orcs, and layered powerful enchantments over the area. Using the Rings of Power, he concealed the farm entirely.
From outside, the land vanished from maps. Anyone approaching would be confused and unconsciously avoid the area.
The dragons within would remain, living and growing.
Since he had gone to such lengths, Luke wasn't about to stop at just a few.
He sought out more lizards, pythons, even crocodiles, breeding new varieties of lesser dragons.
Soon the farm teemed with them—fire-breathing lizard-dragons, venomous green dragons, slender gray serpentine dragons, black crocodile-like dragons.
And this was only the beginning.
After completing his breeding work, Luke turned to another task.
As the year drew to a close, he prepared to create the Resurrection Stone.
At midnight, as 2944 ended and 2945 began, Luke stood atop Orthanc within a mithril-drawn magic circle.
He intended to use Orthanc's power to amplify the ritual.
At the stroke of midnight, as the old year gave way to the new, Luke stood atop the tower of Orthanc. His feet rested on a vast magic circle inscribed with mithril runes, each one gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
He intended to harness Orthanc's amplifying power to forge the Resurrection Stone.
Around him, he had laid out everything: the substance of death, required as the core material, and two enchanted space-bags filled with his grim offerings. At the circle's center stood the furnace he had once used to smelt mithril.
As the final seconds of the year slipped away, Luke activated the circle. The power surged, magnified countless times by Orthanc. The magic between heaven and earth converged in torrents, forming a whirling storm of energy that poured endlessly into the furnace. Even moonlight and starlight bent down toward it, drawn into the vortex.
Flames roared to life inside the furnace, burning with ferocious heat. Luke cast in powdered dragon's blood, and the fire blazed blood-red. From within it, a fire-dragon took shape, writhing and lashing its claws, a living flame spirit.
Chanting, Luke uncorked an obsidian vial and poured the chilling substance of death into the furnace. Instantly, the air grew cold. Black mist coiled within the fire, resisting, only to be swallowed by the dragon of flame. Within its belly, the mist condensed into a grain-sized, glimmering black particle.
"...The lives of the sinful, offered in sacrifice, may make the dead live again!"
At his command, a space-bag opened. Seven petrified Orcs tumbled out, their eyes wide with terror. Luke's face was cold as stone as he hurled them into the flames. Their screams tore the night as they burned to ash. The moment their cries ended, midnight struck, and the new year began.
With the sacrifice complete, a hidden force stirred. The spirit world, normally unseen, overlapped faintly with the mortal realm, shimmering around the tower like a mirage. Its shadowy essence flowed ceaselessly into the furnace, feeding the growing particle inside the flame-dragon.
"...The evil souls that linger in the world, offered in exchange, may make the dead return!"
Luke opened the second space-bag and released thirteen captured Orc-ghosts, bound from the spirit world. One by one, he cast them into the furnace, where the fire-dragon devoured them whole. Each soul merged into the black crystal forming within it, the gem swelling like a dark seed. With every ghost consumed, the gem drew more power, becoming a hungry void pulling in the spiritual energies of the world.
Hour by hour, Luke continued the ritual: seven Orcs, thirteen ghosts, and fresh dragon's blood to keep the flames burning. The work was relentless, profane, and utterly forbidden.
Long ago, the second Peverell had attempted the same. In his madness to revive his lover, he sacrificed an entire Muggle village, harvesting souls and spirits in droves. His Resurrection Stone could conjure only cold, sorrowful shades—not true life. Broken by despair, he ended his own life in the hope of reuniting with her.
Luke, however, would not repeat that folly. He chose Orcs for his sacrifices—dark creatures whose lives carried no innocence worth sparing. To gather enough, he had scoured the Misty Mountains, capturing and binding them by the dozens.
The furnace burned day and night. The circle channeled endless streams of magic. Finally, at dawn on the third day, when the first rays of sunlight crowned the tower, the flames guttered out and the ritual ended.
Luke stepped forward. From the furnace he lifted a small gem, black as obsidian and no larger than his smallest finger. It was crystalline, flawless, and in its heart ran a jagged crack shaped like a cat's vertical pupil—deep, dark, and filled with unknowable promise.
Anticipation stirred in his chest. He turned the stone three times in his hand.
At once, a figure appeared before him—a tall elf, slender yet regal, his bearing both commanding and graceful. His coronet gleamed faintly, dark Noldorin hair framed his noble face, and gray-blue eyes glowed with wisdom. Though his form was more real than a ghost, it was still less than flesh.
The elf looked about in astonishment before fixing his gaze on Luke. "You... summoned me? Who are you?"
Luke bowed with the Noldorin greeting and answered in Quenya:
"Master Celebrimbor, forgive me for disturbing your rest. I am Luke, the Black Wizard. It was I who called you here, through the Resurrection Stone."
The shade's eyes fell upon the gem. "The Resurrection Stone?" he murmured, startled. "You created this?"
Luke nodded, modest. "Though it bears the name, it cannot bring back the dead in truth. It summons only soul-projections. A flawed tool, hardly worthy of your attention."
But Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor and master of craft beyond compare, saw at once the wonder before him. His incorporeal hand reached for the stone but passed through it, reminding him of his state. A flicker of grief passed across his face before discipline reclaimed him.
"Luke, you are too humble," he said firmly. "This touches upon the laws of the soul themselves. To summon the dead, even thus, is no small feat. Apart from Mandos, none hold such power."
He smiled knowingly. "And though it cannot truly restore life, it grants something else—access to the wisdom of ages past. Secrets buried, arts forgotten—through it, they may live again. That, I believe, is its true value."
He fixed his gaze on Luke. "So then, Black Wizard, why have you summoned me? What is it you seek?"
But before Luke could answer, the world froze. The wind stilled, clouds ceased to drift, and Celebrimbor's expression hung motionless. Luke's body too was caught in stasis, though his mind remained awake.
Then it came—a vast, sacred, overwhelming will. It descended like a weight upon his soul, majestic and terrible. He trembled, powerless before it, as though standing before the true master of death itself.
That divine gaze turned first upon the stone in his hand... and then upon Luke himself.
Luke felt as if all his secrets were laid bare under the gaze of that will. It was as if he had been stripped naked, exposed completely before another's eyes. He had no time to dwell on this, consumed instead by a profound panic—a sense of powerlessness akin to a lower-dimensional being encountering a higher-dimensional existence, something unknowable and irresistible.
Yet, that will seemed devoid of malice, merely casting a curious glance.
"Good," a majestic voice resonated within Luke's soul, carrying a tone of appreciation.
"You may come to my Halls of Mandos in the future, wizard from another world…"
Before the words fully faded, the will receded. Time, which had stood still, began to flow again. The wind, once frozen, resumed its course, and the silent world regained its sound.
Luke was deeply shaken, his mind reeling with shock.
Was that will the master of the Halls of Mandos—Námo, the Doomsman of the Valar? He never expected that creating the Resurrection Stone would attract the attention of a Vala! And moreover, this being had seen through his greatest secret with a single glance.
"Wizard Luke? Wizard Luke?" Celebrimbor's voice brought Luke back to reality.
He looked at Luke with concern. "Are you alright?"
Luke struggled to calm himself and shook his head. "I'm fine. I was just lost in thought for a moment."
But soon, he couldn't contain his excitement, a flash of surprise shining in his eyes. He realized that his soul had grown significantly stronger—an improvement that would have taken him ten years of diligent meditation to achieve!
Along with the strengthened soul, his mental power had also surged, and his magical reserves had expanded. Just a single glance from Mandos had such a tremendous effect? Is this the true power of the Valar? Luke was in awe.
Suppressing his inner exhilaration, Luke stated his purpose to Celebrimbor. "Master Celebrimbor, your craftsmanship is exquisite, capable of forging powerful rings like the Three Elven Rings. I wish to learn from you and forge a ring of my own."
Celebrimbor had already guessed Luke's intention but expressed disapproval.
"The craft of the Rings of Power comes from Sauron. He once disguised himself as Annatar and came to Eregion, deceiving me and other elven smiths into helping him create the Nine Rings for Men and the Seven Rings for Dwarves. Had I not been cautious and forged the Three Elven Rings alone, they too would have been tainted by Sauron's evil power. Even so, I cannot be certain that they are free from his influence. Thus, I dispersed and hid them, entrusting them to others for safekeeping. I vowed never to use the Three Rings as long as Sauron possesses the One Ring. Knowing this, do you still wish to learn this craft?"
Luke nodded firmly and took out the ring hanging from his necklace. "Is this another Ring of Power?" Celebrimbor asked, surprised upon seeing the ring.
After careful observation, he frowned. "But the smith's skill is clearly lacking, and the ring is overly focused on power amplification, resulting in a mediocre outcome. Whose work is this?"
"It belongs to the White Wizard Saruman, a wizard who conspired with Sauron and betrayed our cause." Luke briefly explained Saruman's story to him.
Celebrimbor sighed, marveling at the major events that had transpired long after his death. Upon learning that the One Ring was no longer in Sauron's possession and that Luke was closely affiliated with Galadriel and Elrond, Celebrimbor relented and agreed to teach him the craft of ring-forging.
Luke was overjoyed at Celebrimbor's acceptance. He had long coveted the Three Elven Rings, but since they were in the hands of his friends, he could not openly desire them. Now, with Celebrimbor's guidance, he would eventually forge a ring rivaling the Three Elven Rings.
In fact, Luke also wished to summon another spirit—Fëanor, the creator of the Silmarils and Celebrimbor's grandfather. With the help of this genius elven smith, they might forge a ring far surpassing the Three Elven Rings. However, the Resurrection Stone's ability to summon spirits was not without limits; it could not summon anyone at will. It required a strong emotional connection between the summoner and the deceased.
Naturally, Luke shared no such connection with Celebrimbor. But he found an alternative approach: he obtained a memory of Celebrimbor from Galadriel and implanted it into his own mind. Galadriel and Celebrimbor had been close friends. When Sauron's true nature was revealed, it was on Galadriel's advice that Celebrimbor dispersed and hid the Three Elven Rings, entrusting one of them, Nenya, the Ring of Water, to Galadriel for safekeeping. This demonstrated the depth of their friendship.
Thus, Luke adopted Galadriel's memories of friendship with Celebrimbor, creating an emotional connection with him. Although this connection was artificial, it was effective nonetheless.
The inspiration for this method came from Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Lockhart, a fraud who lacked most magical skills, excelled in Memory Charms. He altered the memories of powerful wizards, claiming their adventures as his own to portray himself as an elite wizard.
With the help of the Crown of Wisdom, Luke far surpassed the incompetent Lockhart. After some practice, he mastered Memory Charms to an advanced level. At his current skill, he could even make mortal enemies fond of each other. Therefore, implanting a few memories was no issue.
Of course, Luke understood the importance of memories and the mind. Recklessly inserting others' memories into his own brain could easily lead to psychological issues like schizophrenia. Therefore, Luke proceeded with caution, implanting the memories only into the Crown of Wisdom. When wearing the crown, he gained the memories; when removing it, he lost them. It functioned like a portable hard drive, ensuring no impact on his actual brain.
In the following days, Luke repeatedly summoned Celebrimbor to learn the craft of ring-forging. With a foundation in goblin forging techniques and alchemy, prior knowledge of Noldor smithing, and the enhancement from the Crown of Wisdom, Luke's ring-forging skills improved rapidly. Celebrimbor, as his mentor, was greatly surprised and remarked that had Luke lived in his time, he would have taken him as an apprentice to nurture an even greater master smith.
After six months of study, Luke began attempting to refine the Ring of Power in his possession. At his current level, he was far from capable of forging a Ring of Power alone. But he could not afford to remain idle for prolonged study.
He had already spent enough time in the laboratory and needed to journey to the Far East to find the "Salt of the Body" and complete the Philosopher's Stone. After all, time was passing, and he was no longer young. If he did not wish to become an old man, he needed to attain longevity soon.
The Philosopher's Stone was one path; another was using the Balrog's undying flames to be reborn as a phoenix. However, purifying the Balrog's evil flames would take nearly a year. He could not simply wait around during that time.
Under Celebrimbor's guidance, Luke reshaped the Ring of Power forged by Saruman. On the foundation of its existing power, he redesigned it. Luke's ultimate goal was to align it with the Three Elven Rings, forging an "Earth Ring." Just as the Three Elven Rings corresponded to water, fire, and air, the "Earth Ring" would correspond to the earth, enabling control over earth elements.
However, given Luke's current abilities, he could not yet forge such a ring. But this did not prevent him from steering the Ring of Power in that direction.
With Celebrimbor's guidance, Luke successfully addressed the flaws in Saruman's Ring of Power. Although the ring's power did not increase, it no longer placed a physical burden on the wearer.
Luke could finally wear it on his finger instead of hanging it from a necklace. Additionally, the ring could store magical energy, forming a powerful magical barrier in times of danger. The strength of the barrier depended on the amount of magic stored in the ring. If the magic was sufficient, even facing Sauron directly would allow him time to breathe before the magic depleted.
With this life-saving skill, Luke felt more confident about journeying to the Far East. Thus, before setting out, Luke spent each day channeling all his magic into the Ring of Power, using the Golden Cup to rapidly restore his magic, and repeating the process. After over a month of this, ensuring the ring held enough magic to guarantee his safety, Luke bid farewell to Arwen and prepared to head east.
For this journey, Luke did not plan to bring conspicuous pets like Smaug or Sorondo. The East was Sauron's territory, and Luke needed to travel discreetly, avoiding Sauron's attention. Otherwise, he might be surrounded by Sauron's forces before even finding Hildórien, the birthplace of humanity, and collecting the "Salt of the Body."
Before departing, Luke contacted Gandalf, hoping to learn more about the Blue Wizards. But Gandalf stated that when he arrived in Middle-earth, the two Blue Wizards had already been active in the Far East for years, while he remained in the West, so they had no interaction. Gandalf suggested that Luke inquire with Radagast the Brown, who had arrived in Middle-earth even earlier and might know more about the Blue Wizards.
Luke thus visited Radagast's hut to seek advice. Although Radagast preferred staying in the forest, he was friends with many animals and often learned news of the outside world from them.
"A few years ago, a flock of geese flew from the Far East and stayed with me for a while. According to them, there are people in blue robes leading local uprisings near the Sea of Rhûn. You might find them there," Radagast said after racking his brain for a long time. It was only when Luke placed the Crown of Wisdom on his head that he suddenly remembered.
"Thank you for the information," Luke said, finally obtaining a useful clue. The Far East was vast, and without a specific location, finding the two Blue Wizards would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Now, with the scope narrowed to the Sea of Rhûn, it was no longer an impossible task.
After bidding farewell to Radagast, Luke officially set out on the road east. However, before heading to the Far East, he planned to pass through the capital of Rohan, Edoras, to check in there.