Bear School Astartes

Chapter 1064 - 1046: Sense of Familiarity

"What enemy?"

As soon as Gandalf finished speaking, Saruman said in astonishment. It was as if he completely couldn’t understand Gandalf’s words.

"Where is the enemy?"

Saruman raised his hands and looked around, taking in the serene and peaceful beauty of Rivendell.

The beautiful forests, maintained by magic, appeared even more splendid under the mixture of dawn and moonlight.

The air was fresh, with the occasional sound of leisurely bird calls.

"This is surely an age of daylight, an era of peace, Gandalf. Don’t speak nonsense and stir up panic."

Saruman patiently advised his old friend.

"Sorun has already been defeated, Gandalf. He can never rise again nor gather the dark forces."

"The last time he let the dark forces sweep the world was because his former master, Morgoth’s legacy greatly strengthened his power."

"And now, he has been utterly crushed! In the War of the Last Alliance!"

"It was truly the ’final’ battle!"

Saruman spoke leisurely.

Lann could also piece together some clues from these words.

The dark power of this world seems accustomed to revolving around a formidable entity, manifesting in the form of legions and forces.

The previous Great Dark Enemy was Morgoth, who enhanced his forces and created monstrous races like dragons.

It sounds like he was cast out to the Void Realm during ancient times by the powerful beings of the West.

In context, it was akin to being thrown out of the world.

And Morgoth’s former servant, Sorun, inherited Morgoth’s legacy, becoming the new Great Dark Enemy.

But he too was vanquished by the so-called ’Last Alliance’, reduced to a shadow of his former self.

If these statements are indeed true, then perhaps it really could be called an ’era of peace’ now.

But amid the ’splashing’ sound of the waterfall on the cliff, facing Saruman’s questioning, Gandalf clasped his hands on the stone table, his gaze sincere.

"Three rings for the Elven kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die..."

Gandalf first spoke a verse in a deep and solemn tone, then continued.

"We all know why Sorun, a fallen Maia, was so easily vanquished on the battlefield—because he focused all his power into the rings!"

"And now, of the seven rings of the Dwarves, four were destroyed by dragon fire. Two were retrieved by Sorun himself before he lay dormant in Mordor. And the only one left, was worn by Thráin, Sorlin Oak Shield’s father."

"...However, he along with the ring vanished not long ago! Just decades ago!"

"Is this really a coincidence in an era of peace, Saruman?"

According to the narrative poems known to Lann during this time among the Elf Race,

the Elves referred to the Creator God of this world as Eru Ilúvatar, supreme and benevolent.

During creation, Ilúvatar first created the Ainur, the divine beings. Then he instructed the Ainur to sing the Great Music, creating the world.

After creation, Ilúvatar and the Ainur entered the newly born Ardan World from the Void Realm.

The strongest and noblest fourteen among the Ainur were known as the Valar and the Vilya, divided by male and female, while the rest were collectively called the Maia.

Sorun was a fallen Maia, also a ’god fallen from the Great Music’.

Galadriel and Elrond remained silent in contemplation, but Saruman retorted.

"But without that crucial master ring, the ring of power! The remaining rings are of no value to Sorun!"

"The Great Dark Enemy once hid his identity, mingling among benevolent people’s ranks, expending his energy and creativity, he crafted many powerful and beautiful rings, then gifted them to the great leaders and heroes of various races."

"Then secretly forged the most powerful, most evil Supreme Ring, to control the other rings and those who wore them. Transforming into the Great Dark Enemy after Morgoth."

"He’s just a clumsy gambler, a conspirator! He wagered all his plots and power on the rings! Without the Supreme Magic Ring, he’s incapable of anything!"

"And that ring, long after the start of the Third Era, was lost in the Anduin River with Isildur being ambushed by Beastmen, sinking with the torrents into the sea."

Elrond just then paced behind Saruman, he too persuaded Gandalf.

"Mistlandir, we’ve had peace for four hundred years, a hard-won, ever-vigilant peace."

"Is this peace?"

Gandalf feigned surprise as he spoke.

"Ogres come down from the mountains, brazenly raiding travelers on the Eastern Great Road. Beastmen and wargs attacking, pillaging villages, destroying farmlands everywhere!"

"But this still doesn’t count as war, Gandalf." Elrond rebuked him. "This cannot be taken as a sign of the dark forces’ resurgence. It doesn’t even qualify as a precursor."

Gaining Elrond’s support, Saruman felt more confident in his words.

He opened his hands, looking helplessly at Gandalf.

"You’re always like this, making trouble out of nothing, overly suspicious! You’re getting everyone all tense for no reason. These are clearly good times!"

But when Elrond and Saruman opposed Gandalf together, Lann straightened up from where he was leaning against the stone pillar.

Then he stood behind Gandalf’s seat.

This was considered a kind of stance to some extent.

"May I speak? Since I’m already a participant."

Elrond politely fell silent the moment Lann stepped forward, nodding at him.

The young Demon Hunter looked at Saruman.

"Besides what Gandalf said, I must state: in the Dark Forest, Radagast and I also saw something very wrong. There are frequent rumors among the residents around the forest."

"Wait, the Dark Forest? What is that place?"

Saruman asked in confusion, and Gandalf, opposite him, explained.

"You’ve neglected that place for too long, Saruman. It’s the Greenwood, now people call it by that new name because it’s eerie enough and quite fitting."

"Oh, so just a name change for the Greenwood can scare people like this?"

Unconcerned, Saruman smiled at Lann. Under his hooked nose, the smile carried a shadow.

"Please continue, young Lann. Tell us more about the rumors from the woodcutters."

To Saruman’s haughty remark, Lann showed no emotional fluctuation.

Those trash talk, the strength is far off.

"Residents say, Dorguldu is occupied by a necromancer who can summon shadows from the world of the dead."

Saruman tilted his head impatiently.

"Preposterous! Are you claiming there’s a necromancer who can drag people out from Mandos’s halls?"

"To my view, it’s nothing but an ordinary person playing tricks! At most, this person learned some scary black magic or demon technique..."

Facing Saruman’s skepticism, Lann calmly said;

"That’s something Radagast and I witnessed with our own eyes."

Seeing Saruman’s stiffened mouth, Lann continued by patting Gandalf’s shoulder.

"Moreover, we brought material evidence. Show it, Gandalf."

Suddenly, Lann felt a gaze, it was Galadriel, who had been mostly silent during the meeting.

Gandalf pursed his lips, reached into his cloak, and took out the short sword wrapped in leather by Radagast, placing it on the table.

The sword was loosely wrapped in leather, and the binding cords were already removed by Gandalf beforehand.

As soon as it was placed on the table, Elrond, too, looked at the object in surprise, as if through the leather, he could feel the sinister power within.

"What is this?"

Elrond murmured in shock, perhaps due to the Holy White Council not yet commencing, and the attendees not all present, Gandalf hadn’t disclosed the short sword to Elrond in the past two weeks.

In his astonishment, the Elf Lord slowly walked over to Gandalf’s side at the stone table, reaching out to lift the loosely wrapped leather cloth.

"That is..." Not sure when, but Lady Galadriel also approached Gandalf’s stone table, speaking softly.

"A relic of Mordor."

Upon hearing these words, Elrond instinctively withdrew his hand slightly but soon resolutely reached out again, immediately uncovering the leather cloth.

The pure black short sword emitted an unusual chill once more, now exposed.

"This is a... Sword of Mogul!"

Elrond almost sighed as he spoke.

Galadriel’s tone remained calm, yet with a touch of...coldness.

"This sword was forged for the Angmar Witch King and buried with him. After the Northern People’s defeat of the Angmar Kingdom, they found the Witch King’s remains and artifacts, sealing them under rocks in the Rudor Plateau, the grave buried deep, never seeing the light of day."

"But that’s impossible!" Elrond bent down, supporting himself on the stone table with both hands. "Those graves were enchanted, how could they have been opened?"

"Let’s not hastily jump to conclusions." Saruman said with pursed lips, "First, prove to us that this sword might not have originated from the Angmar Witch King’s tomb."

Lann then slightly frowned, pointing at the black short sword quietly resting on the table.

"Alright, now we even need to prove the origin of evidence?"

"What else, young man?" Saruman said matter-of-factly, "This concerns major world affairs, and we must be cautious and meticulous."

"You haven’t experienced those cruel and perilous past times, so you might contemplate things with frivolous thoughts, but we’re different! We carry heavy responsibilities, and we must clarify everything before drawing conclusions!"

"But with all due respect." At this moment, Lann found a sliver of familiarity in this world.

This familiarity, in the Magic Middle Ages, was ’tree spirit scalp for money’, was ’Remote Kingdom selling munitions to both sides of a war’.

And before Saruman...

"I see what you’re doing here is appeasement, isn’t it? White-robed Mage, your honor?"