5th of May, 2956 T.A.<br/><br/>The dawn of new morning in Rivendell found Arthalion waking from his guest room given to him by Master Elrond upon his return the night before.  On the next day, he would turn thirty-eight, but his birthday coming up was only a reminder of how much he needed to do to be ready for what was to come.  The dreams had come once more.  Dreams of Sauron returning in force to cover all of Middle-earth in a second darkness.  In it, Arthalion had seen the destruction of Minas Tirith, the burning of Lothlorien, the ravaging of Rivendell, and the Shire wiped out of existence.  To him, these dreams were a warning he dare not ignore, and ever such moments fueled his desire to restore the northern realm of the Dunedain:  Arnor - that which had been long ago established by Elendil, the Tall.  Yet, for centuries, Arnor had been a land in ruin...razed by the Witch-King of Angmar, and it had not risen from the ashes since that time.  Indeed, there were those among the Wise who said Arnor would not rise again while Sauron endured.  He hoped they were wrong, because he felt it was his quest to restore the land in the war he saw to come.<br/><br/>Thus it was that the Steward of Arnor in exile rose up from his elvish bed to greet a new day; though his thoughts dwelled ever on the battles to come.  He washed and attired himself in something other than his armor for change.  Here, in Rivendell, such was rarely needed unless one was going out on patrol.  His patrol had lasted a long seven years, and now it was time to rest...and plan.  Today, even as he buckled on his sword over the rich deep blue tunic he had, and the leather pants he had with it, Arthalion sensed something...different.  After finishing with belting on the sword...he actually closed his eyes to focus on the strange sensation...so powerful it could not be ignored.  Today, something was going to happen, but what it was he could not grasp.  Finally, Arthalion gave up trying to figure it out, and went out into the hall to make his way to the Hall of Fire.<br/><br/>The Hall of fire was a massive room made for entertaining Elrond's guests, serving meals, telling stories by the fire, and so forth.  It was one of his favorite rooms in the Last Homely House.  As he entered, the firelight caught his silver seven-stars Ranger pendant fastening his equally dark blue cloak.  It was the only symbol he wore openly to indicate who he was.  Rangers wore such pins, but only those of rank wore something other than steel or bronze pendants.  Of course, his pendant had a single tree in the center.  Only one other would have such an emblem, and his would be better than silver.  The silver emblem declared to all who knew such things that Arthalion was the Steward of lost Arnor, and that despite the realm having been razed centuries ago...it was still something he claimed.  His evergreen eyes were piercing and grim as he gazed around the Hall of Fire; for much was on the young Dunedain warrior's mind.  Even so, he did not fail to smile briefly at one of the silvery-haired Elven women serving breakfast:  Celewen.  She smiled back brightly, and danced over to him as he strode over to his normal corner table.<br/><br/>"Ah, so it is true!  The young wandering Ranger has returned to us!  I trust your time out there was well spent, and did not overly trouble your spirit," Celewen greeted him even as she laid out a jug of pure apple juice and a plate of cheeses and meats for him to enjoy.<br/><br/>Arthalion, for his part, could only laugh as Celewen greeted him.  He had been gone seven years, but her memory had not faded of what he liked, or where he had been off to.  "I will not darken this hall with all that has touched my heart since being away from this fair house, Celewen, but I am whole and rejoice at returning to the hospitality of Master Elrond."<br/><br/>"You are always welcome here...to rest your cares," she answered, and nodded politely to him - though her smile had faded somewhat.  Arthalion realized she had picked up on his mood, and that such could not be hidden as much as he wished.  Her husband came over to him a moment later to join him for breakfast as had been his habit.<br/><br/>"Though seven years is a short time in the eyes of the Elves; still it is has been a moment since you have been in this hall, Arthalion.  New grimness lies on you that was not there before.  Is all well?" Gallind inquired as he poured himself a cup of the apple juice provided by his wife.<br/><br/>"Much is on my mind, Master Gallind.  Though I know I should be celebrating my year of birth tomorrow; my mind is more on the darkness I have seen since last I was here.  Eriador has much that is evil in it which must be dealt with soon, and the Shadow is no longer asleep as he once was...if ever he was," came the Steward's reply as he poured his own cup.<br/><br/>"Your thoughts are indeed dark, My Friend.  Yet, what will come...will come.  The Shadow has not been one of my cares for many centuries.  Though the Enemy may have returned; I have no desire to return to battle," Gallind informed him, and Arthalion's mood grew more grim.<br/><br/>"I would invite you to stay and fight, Gallind.  We all have need of those who have such light as you have," Arthalion said seriously, but sighed softly.  The odds of him convincing the Elf to not fade into the West was about as bad as him facing the Witch-King.  Gallind was tired...had been tired for some time now.  He had been fighting the Shadow since the dawn of the First Age...with many fruitless victories, and even more costly defeats.  There comes a time when the spirit cannot take such trouble anymore.<br/><br/>"Still, there is a change in the air, Arthalion," Gallind said after taking a long draught from his cup, and popping a couple of grapes into his mouth.  "We had news this morning even before the dawn that there were people heading here from the outside world...indeed from various corners.  One is even said to come from as far as Rohan, and another from the Shire...a Hobbit no less."<br/><br/>Arthalion looked puzzled by this news.  It was rare for Rivendell to receive visitors other that Elves and Dunedain in the area.  From time to time others would come to rest here, but to have various visitors all arriving around the same time in Elrond's valley was strange news indeed.<br/><br/>"I wonder what brings them," Arthalion thought aloud quietly.<br/><br/>"That is the question," Gallind agreed.  "Strangely enough, Elrond did not seem overly surprised by them coming.  It was almost as if he expected their arrival - which is strange, I suppose, and yet not.  After all, Lord Elrond is gifted with foresight, and he may have seen them coming.  Yet, I too, wonder what brings these travellers from afar at this hour."<br/><br/>It was a most intriguing puzzle, but one he hoped to find out more about.  The strange sensation he had earlier grew in his mind, and he wondered if these new arrivals would bring with them the change he sensed coming.  Time would tell, but Arthalion now began to eat his breakfast with his back to the wall so he could see all of the Hall of Fire.  Guests came here to refresh themselves, and he was sure these would be no different.  He would wait and see what came of them, and who they were.  Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but...it was still something he dared not ignore.<br/><br/>Gallind noticed how he was now paying attention to the hall, and smiled at his friend.  "Yes, I too am curious," the Elf admitted, and ate with his friend.