The "Supernova" setting on the oven had, fortunately, only resulted in a very crispy batch of Elven sourdough. As the smell of toasted grain filled the cottage, Kaelen leaned against the counter, watching Thranduil trace the matte-black surface of his new Void-Anchor.
"The Ring is silent," Thranduil remarked, his voice carrying a newfound weight. "It feels as though I am standing at the edge of a great cliff, looking into a night where no wind blows. It is... peaceful."
"That's the point," Kaelen said, dusting flour off his robes. "Sauron's power is built on will—the desire to bend others. The Void is built on is. You can't bend what isn't there."
The Unexpected Guest: A Wizard Arrives
The peace was interrupted by a sharp, rhythmic knocking at the cottage door. Not the frantic pounding of a terrified Orc or the heavy thud of a guard, but the confident clack of a wooden staff.
Kaelen opened the door to find a tall old man in grey, travel-worn robes and a pointed blue hat. His beard was long and snowy, and his eyes held a sharp, inquisitive spark.
"I was told," Gandalf the Grey began, sniffing the air, "that there was a master of the 'Great Empty' living in a cottage that defies the laws of architecture. I was also told he makes a spectacular sourdough."
"Gandalf," Kaelen smiled, stepping aside. "I figured you'd find your way here eventually. Come in. The tea is just reaching $92^\circ\text{C}$."
A Meeting of Powers
Gandalf sat at the wooden table, his eyes darting around the room. He watched as a teapot drifted through the air, guided by a tiny gravitational tether, and poured itself into three cups.
"You are not of the West," Gandalf stated, his tone neutral but observant. "Nor are you a servant of the Secret Fire, though you do not reek of the Shadow."
"I'm a Librarian who got an upgrade," Kaelen replied, sliding a plate of bread toward the wizard. "And I've taken Thranduil here as an apprentice. We've been doing some... home renovations on the fabric of reality."
Gandalf looked at Thranduil. The Prince sat straight, his presence no longer that of a flickering candle, but of a steady, dark flame.
"I felt the rift close in the South," Gandalf said softly. "The White Council is concerned. They fear a new power has risen—one that does not answer to the Valar."
"The Valar look after the world," Kaelen said, leaning forward. "I look after the space the world sits in. We aren't competitors, Gandalf. I just want to make sure the neighbors don't get too loud."
The Test of the Staff
Gandalf raised his staff, the crystal at its peak beginning to glow with a pure, white light. "And if the Shadow comes with a host that cannot be simply 'erased'? If he brings the weight of the world against this little grove?"
Kaelen didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't even stand up. He simply looked at Gandalf's staff.
The Void Siphon:
The white light of the staff didn't dim; it began to stretch. The photons were pulled toward Kaelen's eyes, curving in mid-air as if trapped in an invisible funnel. The light didn't vanish; it was simply redirected into a small, swirling pocket of nothingness above the tea table.
"I don't fight the light, Gandalf," Kaelen whispered. "I just give it a place to rest."
Gandalf lowered his staff, the light returning to normal. He let out a long, shaky breath and then, to Thranduil's surprise, he chuckled.
"Well," the wizard said, reaching for a piece of toast. "I suppose that settles that. Radagast will be annoyed he missed this. He's always complaining about the local physics being too rigid."
A New Alliance
For the rest of the evening, the three of them talked. Not of war or conquest, but of the balance of the world. Gandalf spoke of the growing darkness in Dol Guldur, and Kaelen promised that if the Necromancer stepped a single toe into the Woodland Realm, he would find himself "relocated" to a dimension consisting entirely of aggressive geese.
As Gandalf prepared to leave, he turned to Thranduil. "Your father is a king of the earth, young Prince. But you... you are becoming a king of the stars. See that you do not lose your heart in the vastness."
Thranduil looked at Kaelen, who was currently trying to use a micro-wormhole to find his lost slippers.
"I think," Thranduil said, a small smile playing on his lips, "my Master will keep me grounded. He is very insistent about his tea being served on time."
Gandalf laughed, tapped his staff on the ground, and disappeared into the misty woods.
Kaelen finally found his slippers—they had drifted into a pocket dimension behind the sofa—and sighed with relief. "Right. Tomorrow, Thranduil, we're going to learn how to 'Quiet' a mountain. I hear the Orcs in the Misty Mountains are getting a bit rowdy again."