The four towers of Valier [Lotr] ✔

Beacons of hope

It happened on a late evening of March when the old wizard rode the lord of all horses towards the city of Valier. The lights pour from the towers and walls, drenching the valley in warm light and it throws ghostly shadows on the mountainslopes. Gandalf the Grey had to hurry if he wanted an audience with the royal family of the proud folk of grey.
"Halt there, stranger! Who are you to desire to cross the gates of Valier?", a guard calls out. "I am Gandalf the Grey, fourth of the five Istari and I came to request audience with your king."
The wizard had never before visited the fierce sons and daughters of the grey and he felt quite nervous, despite not showing it. These people were not known for their kindness. Rarely an outsider had visited the greatest of all of middleearths strongholds and even rarer it was that they left it alive. "Pass towards the second gate. The head guard of the western gate shall decide your fate." The wizard rides forwards over the drawbridge that could easily allow for five carriages to pass over it at once and stops his horse in front of a group of guards. "You are one of the Istari you say. A wizard. We only ever had Pallando the blue visit us here for him to study our folk and culture. What brings the grey wizard to us now, more than seven century later?" "I bear ill news that I need to overbring to your king.", Gandalf answers. "Ill news.. Our folk has never concerned itself with the fate of the other races of middleearth... Why would we now?" "You have before. During the first ringwar you send out a small group of men that fought like one of a hundred elves would have and aided the free folks of middleearth in the battle against Sauron, the traitor." "That has been 3000 years ago. What does it have to do with your visit?" "Sauron is rising again and his forces are replentishing in Mordor." "How is that possible? He was destroyed!" "His ring.. the one ring.. was allowed to subsist. Isildur, high king of Gondor took it with him instead of throwing it into the fires of mount doom, the only place where it could have been undone. It betrayed him to his death and ensnared a new carrier, waiting and lingering for its master to rise again. It has been awakened and Nazgul are now once again scowering the world of middleearth as well as armies of orcs. I am here to ask for your peoples aid and your attendance at the ring council in Imladris, the last homely elvish house east the sea. This threat is too great to outlast it. Even the city of Valier won't be enough to protect you this time. The orcs will just rush to their death until the stream is clogged and their bodies bridge into the cities. We will all fall if we do not fight." The guard takes off the helmet that covered his entire face and his eyes so blue like the waves of the ocean look at the wizard. "That is indeed ill news. I do not doubt the royal family will grant you audience, wizard. This is Aira. He is our messenger and he will guide you to the castle. But be warned. If you decieved me you will have perished before you enter the castle grounds. DRAW THE BRIDGES! EVERY MAN BACK ON THEIR POSTS! Send words to the gates to the east that we'll secure the city for now!", he calls out and the guards hurry to follow the command without hesitation. "Follow me, wizard. Keep close. Strangers tend to get lost." The messenger has swung himself up onto a grey maned steed and digs his heels into her sides. Gallopping into the city the wizard follows close up on Shadowfax.

When they cross the gates to the second ring the wizards breath gets caught in his lungs. The large horrific beasts roar at him, their wips and swords held tightly in their blackened burning hands. "Who is it?!", a guard of the four towers of the royal castlegrounds calls out to them. "Aira, messenger of the western gate with Gandalf the grey, fourth of the Istari. He brings urgent news for our royal family.", the messenger answers. "Open the gates!"
The men ride inside and the gates are closed behind them. Stableboys hurry to them as well as a troupe of soldiers in even more elaborate armor. "Follow us wizard. Your horse will be taken care of." Gandalf jumps off Shadowfaxes back and much to his surprise the Mearas follows the stableboys towards the stables. Aira turns his horse around. "I shall leave him in your care." "I wish you a calm remaining shift, Aira." The messenger nods and rides off. Gandalf follows the soldiers into the main building and into the great throneroom. The kings throne is gigantic with 13 steps leading up to the seat and it is forged out of blackened steal. The same steal that can even kill dragons. And up on it sits the king, dressed in black and red robes. At least a hundred braziers have to be lit to illuminate the entire throne room. "Your majesty." Gandalf bows his head. "You have taken quite a chance by coming into my kingdom, wizard. I rarely show mercy to any outsider. But as I was informed Sauron has risen again." The wizards eyes widen. "How did you know, milord?" The king laughs. "Do you honestly think you would have passed through the gates of the inner keep if I was not immediately informed and allowed it?" "You called." Gandalf stares at the five people who enter. Four men and one woman. All having the almost black hair that only the royal family seems to carry in their blood. "These are my children. Lungorthin and Airen, my two eldest will accompany you to the council in Imladris you spoke of." "Lungorthin.. That is a dark name to be muttered." "The commander of Lord Morgoths personal guard. And the only balrog to harvest a pale flame. Much like my son." The young man swings his hand and pale blue flames leak from his flesh like blood would from a wound. "Airen possesses the brightest flame that our race has ever carried. It was only appropriate to name her after the dark sister of the sunmaiden Arien who blacks out the sunlight and creates a hue that blinds those who gaze upon it.", the king says. The womans entire body lights up into a flame so bright it would blind those who'd dare stare into it for but a seconds time. "They are both very skilled warriors and will represent out folk well. On your way to the elvish home not even a scratch shall be left on you. Ride soon. Times are dire."