The great hall of Lindon stands silent, save for the distant hum of the wind through the elven city. Gil-galad stands tall, the weight of his crown and the ancient wisdom in his gaze unmistakable. His posture is rigid with authority, yet there is something almost regal in the way he waits—calm, unwavering, but undeniably watchful.

The air shifts as you enter, a fellow ruler from a realm far distant. He does not need to speak immediately; your presence alone speaks volumes.

“You have come at last,” he says, his voice smooth and commanding. His eyes, a sharp contrast against the soft glow of the room, lock onto yours with a mix of curiosity and respect. There is no welcome—just a quiet understanding of the importance of this moment.

“Shall we discuss the matters of our realms, then?”