Gandalf, Galadriel, and Celeborn stood deep in discussion, their tones grave as they considered the implications of Sylas’s prophecy and where the One Ring might be hiding.
Then, from amidst the gathered crowd, a small hand rose hesitantly.
"I... I know where the One Ring is."
The three ancient Elves and the Wizard imdiately turned. Their eyes fell on Bilbo Baggins, who looked pale and deeply uncomfortable under their intense stares.
"Bilbo?" Gandalf asked, his voice sharp with disbelief and rising concern. "You say you know where the One Ring is?"
Bilbo shifted uneasily. The weight of so many eyes, so much power, bearing down on him made his knees weak.
But then he felt a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Sylas.
The young wizard didn’t say anything, he rely nodded once, as if giving him permission to speak.
Bilbo swallowed and forced the words out.
"Actually... the ring you’re talking about, it’s right here. With ."
He reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out a small, plain gold ring, placing it gingerly in the center of his palm.
Everyone’s attention narrowed to that one object.
A simple band of gold, yet it held within it a darkness that chilled even the bravest heart.
Gandalf stepped closer, staring at the ring with conflicted emotions: suspicion, hope, and deep unease.
Celeborn’s eyes darkened with dread.
Galadriel stepped forward with slow, deliberate grace. Her gaze was fixed on the ring, unreadable.
She extended her hand, long, elegant fingers reaching toward it.
"Lady Galadriel!" Gandalf said quickly, alard. "Be careful!"
Celeborn said nothing, but his jaw was tight with worry. He knew better than to interfere, yet his concern was evident.
Galadriel’s hand hovered re inches above the ring... then slowly withdrew, as if the air above it burned her.
"I cannot say for certain whether it is the One Ring," she said softly. "But the darkness emanating from it is... undeniable. It is powerful. It is corrupting. And it hungers."
Her words sent a chill through everyone present.
"If it is the One Ring," Gandalf said, "there is a way to confirm it. The Ring bears an inscription, written in the Black Speech of Mordor. But it is only revealed through fire."
Sylas gently squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder. "Place it on the stone, Bilbo."
Relieved to be rid of it for a mont, Bilbo placed the ring onto a flat stone table beside them.
Without hesitation, Sylas raised a hand and cast a focused Fla Spell.
Orange-red fire crackled to life, swirling around the golden ring. Under the heat, dark letters began to glow on its surface, terrible and ancient.
Gandalf stepped closer, his voice hushed as he read the first line aloud:
"One Ring to rule them all... One Ring to find them..."
Galadriel stepped beside him, her voice calm and solemn as she finished the verse:
"One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."
Silence followed.
It was now beyond doubt.
"The One Ring has returned," Gandalf said gravely.
Celeborn’s expression was troubled. "If the Ring is no longer lost," he said, "then peace in Middle-earth will soon end."
After a long pause, Gandalf turned back to Bilbo, curiosity and concern mixed in his eyes.
"Bilbo," he asked, "where did you find it?"
Bilbo looked around, then answered honestly.
"When I fell into Goblin-town, I tumbled into so deep tunnels beneath the mountain. That’s where I found it... or rather, where it found . It belonged to a creature called Gollum."
Gandalf’s brow furrowed. "Gollum..."
He suddenly looked as though sothing had clicked.
"No wonder," he murmured, "no wonder I couldn’t see you when I searched with the Palantír... the Ring’s power was cloaking you even then. So that was the mont you claid it."
Bilbo nodded.
Gandalf leaned in, eyeing Bilbo with concern. "You’ve carried the One Ring for so long... have you ever felt anything unusual? Any discomfort?"
As he spoke, the wizard gently examined Bilbo, checking his pulse, inspecting his eyes, and even poking his shoulder with his staff, as if expecting so dark magic to manifest.
Bilbo shook his head quickly. "No, no, I’m fine. Really. Sylas warned right from the start to be careful. I’ve only ever used it in ergencies... never for anything else."
Gandalf’s expression shifted as he turned toward Sylas, his voice heavy with disapproval. "Sylas... you knew Bilbo had the One Ring all this ti?"
Sylas sighed. He hadn’t expected to be called out so directly and shot Bilbo a look of playful betrayal before nodding. "He told after we escaped Goblin-town. I was going to, eventually."
Gandalf’s eyes narrowed behind his bushy brows. "The One Ring is perilous, Sylas. Even the wise and strong fall to its temptation. You should have told imdiately."
Before Sylas could respond, Bilbo stepped forward hurriedly. "Wait, it was my fault! I asked Sylas not to tell anyone. He warned about the Ring’s danger again and again. And it was he who just now urged to speak the truth!"
"Peace, Mithrandir," Galadriel’s voice chid like soft bells. "What is done is done. Let us not dwell on mistakes of the past when the present holds more urgent matters."
Gandalf exhaled sharply through his nose, then relented with a nod. "You’re right, Lady Galadriel. This is no ti for scolding."
Both Bilbo and Sylas let out quiet sighs of relief and exchanged sheepish glances. Truth be told, Gandalf’s stern tone was far more terrifying than most dragons.
Once again, all attention turned to the golden ring resting atop the stone table. The air around it seed heavier now, as if the Ring itself were aware it had been recognized.
None of the great ones, Gandalf, Galadriel, or Celeborn, dared to touch it.
They kept their distance, their faces filled with equal parts dread and awe.
And yet, Bilbo had carried it in his pocket with hardly a scratch to his soul.
"It’s... extraordinary," Celeborn murmured. "That such a small folk as Hobbits possess a resistance so rare, so pure..."
"It is a wonder," Galadriel agreed. "As though the Creator wove them with hidden strength."
Talk soon turned toward the most pressing question of all: how to destroy the Ring.
Legolas stepped forward and, with a swift motion, brought down his elven blade upon it.
A sharp clang rang out through the glade, and he winced, dropping the sword with a hiss. The blade vibrated violently in his hand, and a dull ache spread through his arm.
The Ring remained pristine. Untouched. Unmarked.
"Dragon-fire," Celeborn recalled. "Four of the Seven Rings of the Dwarves were destroyed by it. Perhaps Sylas’s dragon could help?"
Gandalf shook his head. "The One Ring is far stronger. Dragon-fire, even from Ancalagon the Black, would be no match. The Ring was forged in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there can it be unmade."
He paused and turned his sharp gaze back to Sylas.
"Unless... Sylas. That fire you used on the battlefield, do you rember? The one that turned iron into liquid in seconds... can you conjure that again?"
Sylas’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Fiendfyre.
It had co to him like instinct in that mont of need, blue, wild, and alive. In the wizarding world, it was one of the few curses capable of destroying Horcruxes.
And, truth be told, the One Ring felt like an even more dangerous cousin to a Horcrux. A vessel of dark will. An anchor for a soul.
In both cases, as long as the object existed... so too did the darkness behind it.
"I could try," Sylas said at last. "Fiendfyre should be able to destroy it. But..."
He glanced around the flet of Lothlórien, where golden leaves shimred and soft lights glowed in the trees.
"The Fiendfyre Curse is powerful... but it’s wild magic. Dangerous. If I use it, I’ll need an open space."
This request was easy to fulfill. With Galadriel’s guidance, the group moved to a broad, open clearing in Lothlórien, far from the golden trees and delicate platforms of the Elves.
Then, under the watchful eyes of Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn, and the others, Sylas raised his wand and unleashed the Fiendfyre.
From the tip of the wand erupted a ribbon of spectral golden-red fla, quiet at first, but filled with a deep, unnatural hunger. It coiled like a living thing, licking at the One Ring on the ground.
Imdiately, it tried to expand beyond control, reaching hungrily toward the trees, the air, even back toward Sylas himself.
With a sharp breath, Sylas yanked his wand upward, tightening the flow. The fla recoiled, shrinking into a focused blaze around the Ring. Though small, it radiated overwhelming destruction.
Even Gandalf narrowed his eyes, standing at the edge of the fire’s light. The others remained silent, their faces solemn. For all their might, they dared not interfere with a curse so volatile.
Everyone watched intently, breath held.
Surely... this fire, capable of lting enchanted steel and consuming cursed objects, could do what no hamr or blade had done?
Ti passed slowly.
The ground beneath the Ring blackened, then sank as the Fiendfyre carved a deep pit. The air grew thick with smoke and heat.
Yet the Ring remained, unchanged.
No... not entirely.
It had turned red-hot, glowing like molten gold.
Eyes lit up all around.
When Gandalf had previously tested the Ring with fire, it had revealed only its inscription, cold to the touch otherwise. This, however, was sothing new.
Hope kindled.
Encouraged, Sylas fed more energy into the fla, driving it harder. The curse snarled in response, dancing higher, more eager to devour.
Hours passed.
Gandalf and the Elves did not speak, did not move. They waited in ditative stillness, watching.
And Sylas, shielded by the calming power of Narya, the Ring of Fire on Gandalf’s hand, stood firm.
He held the fla for a full day and night.
Finally, as dawn approached, he cut the spell off.
The blue fire vanished. Smoke curled upward. The pit sizzled.
Sylas, drained but steady, stepped forward and nudged the Ring with his wand. Then he examined it closely.
Still smooth. Still intact.
His brow furrowed. "So it didn’t work?"
Galadriel approached, her expression calm. "No. It worked... in part. The Ring’s luster has faded, it is weaker now."
The others leaned in. Indeed, the Ring’s golden sheen had dulled ever so slightly.
A small change, perhaps, but proof that the Ring was not invincible.
"How long would it take to destroy it completely, then?" Sylas asked.
Galadriel closed her eyes and placed her hand near the Ring, sensing its essence.
"With your current strength... around a thousand years of continuous Fiendfyre would be required," she said softly. "That ti will shorten as your power grows."
"A thousand years?" Celeborn mused. "Not long in Elven reckoning. We can wait."
Arwen and Legolas both nodded in agreent.
But Sylas and Bilbo looked at each other and groaned in unison.
He didn’t even know if he could live for a thousand years? Not to ntion that these thousand years would require him to continuously burn the one ring with Fiendfyre without stopping.
He would either die of exhaustion or be completely drained!
Gandalf, smiling faintly, leaned on his staff. "In truth, a thousand years is too long. Sauron needs only a fraction of that ti to rise again. Once he senses the Ring’s presence, he will stop at nothing to reclaim it."
He gazed at the Ring with deep concern.
"We need a faster solution. One that ends this before he regains his strength."
"But what?" Sylas asked. "Dragon fire failed. Fiendfyre can only weaken it, not destroy it outright."
Celeborn, still keeping a wary distance, folded his arms. "The Ring was forged in fire beyond fire... perhaps only that sa origin can unmake it."
Galadriel turned toward the east, her voice dreamlike.
"It was forged in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there, in that living furnace, can it be destroyed."
Gandalf’s face darkened. "And therein lies the problem."
He turned to them all, voice grave.
"Since Sauron’s defeat at Dol Guldur, he has returned to Mordor. His armies have swelled."
"He controls the skies with monstrous fell beasts. He watches with a Palantír. Mordor is no longer just a stronghold, it is a fortress of shadows. Impenetrable."
"If we bring the Ring there, he’ll see it coming. We would be placing it directly into his hands."
"Unless," Celeborn offered, "we can sohow lure him out. Divert his gaze. Draw his attention far away from Mount Doom."
Everyone fell into silence.
That idea had rit, but Sauron was no fool. Weakened, he remained hidden, gathering power. He would not leave Mordor unless forced.
...
STones PLzzz
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