CHAPTER 131: HERBS

Inside the Amon Sûl Tower, Sylas and Gandalf stood on the seventh floor.

This chamber had been transformed into a meditation room by Sylas.

Gandalf had etched runes into the floor and walls, infusing them with calming magic to help quiet the mind.

Sylas, not one to remain idle, had constructed two massive fireplaces, each tall enough for him to walk into without ducking.

Upon the hearthstone, he inscribed precise lines of ancient Runic script. Then, holding his staff in one hand, he poured magic steadily into the gem at its tip, chanting long and complex incantations.

The process consumed an immense amount of energy. Just as Sylas began to feel completely drained, a silver-blue flame sparked to life.

Though small, the flame shimmered with a mysterious indestructibility.

There was no wood or kindling nearby, yet it burned steadily in mid-air, unaffected by the absence of fuel, neither growing nor diminishing.

Sylas’s eyes brightened as he gazed at the flame.

Gandalf, sensing the surge of magic from across the room, approached. He looked at the flame in the hearth, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"What kind of magic fire is this?"

"This is the Eternal Flame. A fire that burns forever."

Although it was difficult to conjure, it lacked the uncontrollable ferocity of Fiendfyre.

"The Eternal Flame," Gandalf said, nodding in admiration.

He stepped closer to the fireplace and raised his hand.

"Let me help you strengthen it."

As he spoke, the ruby on his finger, the Ring of Fire, glowed with brilliant red light, and a surge of power flowed into the fire.

The flame swelled instantly, roaring upward like a geyser, and filled the hearth with blazing brilliance.

The entire room lit up, and the air warmed with sudden intensity.

Sylas looked up at the fire, now far taller than himself, eyes wide in astonishment. He couldn’t help but glance enviously at the ring on Gandalf’s hand.

With all his strength and the help of his staff, Sylas could only produce a flickering flame. Gandalf, with a single gesture, had multiplied it dozens of times over.

There really was no comparison.

Shaking off his awe, Sylas turned to the second fireplace and conjured another flame.

Gandalf once again magnified it with ease.

With two roaring Eternal Flames casting their glow, the meditation room became warm, bright, and deeply comforting.

But the fire was more than just long-burning light.

Its true value lay in the magic it drew from its surroundings. The area around the fire gradually became saturated with ambient energy.

Sylas could already feel the increase. The entire room pulsed with an almost tangible magic. Practicing here would greatly enhance spellwork and meditation alike.

"Thank you, Gandalf," Sylas said gratefully.

Without Gandalf’s aid, the two fires would never have achieved such strength.

Gandalf smiled and offered a suggestion.

"Next time you meditate, add some focused herbs to the fire. You’ll find the results even more effective."

Sylas nodded in understanding.

At that moment, the teleportation fireplace just outside the meditation room flared to life, its flames turning green.

Bilbo’s head emerged from the flames, and he shouted to Sylas, "Sylas, Luke, the village chief of Hogsmeade, has arrived outside, and he’s brought guests."

Guests? Sylas wondered.

Without delay, he and Gandalf used Floo Powder to teleport down to the first-floor fireplace.

The tower was over a thousand feet tall, with sixty floors in total. Climbing up and down each level would be exhausting.

So Sylas had installed a fireplace on every floor, connecting them all with a local Floo Network. Next to each hearth sat a jar of Floo Powder, making floor-to-floor travel effortless.

Currently, Sylas had an entire barrel of Floo Powder to himself. Rivendell had even agreed to send regular shipments of moonstone in exchange for modest quantities, ensuring he never ran low. As a result, Sylas now used Floo Powder liberally.

Arriving on the first floor, he immediately spotted the visitors.

"Lord Sylas," Luke stood up and greeted him respectfully. Sylas waved a hand to put him at ease.

His eyes then fell upon the tall figure beside Luke, and a look of recognition and surprise crossed his face.

"Aldamir, what a rare sight. I didn’t expect you to be the one accompanying Luke."

The guest was Aldamir, a Dúnedain ranger whom Sylas had met once at the Prancing Pony Inn in Bree during his expedition to the Lonely Mountain.

Aldamir bowed slightly, his tone filled with admiration.

"Wizard Sylas, your deeds at the Lonely Mountain have spread far and wide, even west of the Misty Mountains. Dragon-subduer, Orc-bane who struck down two generations of Orc kings, the one who turned the tide in the Battle of Five Armies, the Elves sing of your valor, and the bards compose songs in your name. It won’t be long before all of Eriador knows you."

Sylas chuckled and waved the flattery aside.

"That’s too much. It wasn’t my doing alone. Gandalf, the Dwarves, the Elves, we all stood together in that battle."

He then shifted the conversation.

"But tell me, Aldamir, what brings you here today?"

Understanding the change in tone, Aldamir nodded and explained his purpose.

"Wizard Sylas, the medicinal herbs you asked us to collect, we’ve nearly finished gathering them. But since you were away, we couldn’t deliver them earlier. Hearing that you’ve returned, we brought everything with us today."

Sylas’s eyes lit up.

After clearing out the Barrow-downs, he had traded an ancient corpse-sword with Aldamir, asking the Dúnedain to gather rare herbs for him. Nearly a year had passed since then. If Aldamir hadn’t mentioned it, he might have completely forgotten.

"You brought them? Where are they?" Sylas asked eagerly.

"They’re just outside the tower. There’s quite a lot, so we didn’t carry them in. We thought it best to ask first," Aldamir replied.

"Quite a lot?" Sylas raised a brow. "Let’s go take a look!"

With rising curiosity, Sylas led the group outside.

As soon as they stepped into the sunlight, Sylas saw several tall Dúnedain rangers standing nearby. But what truly caught his attention were the wagons behind them, stacked high with cargo.

Dozens of wooden crates were neatly arranged, packed with all sorts of herbs. The goods were sorted by type and bundled tightly.

Most of them were live herbs, planted in soil, with both flowers and leaves.

Sylas’s eyes lit up, and he quickly walked forward to carefully examine the herbs.

"Is this Athelas, King’s Foil?" Sylas looked at a wooden box densely packed with hundreds of herbs, like chives squeezed together, and couldn’t help but widen his eyes.

So much King’s Foil? It was his first time seeing so much.

Aldamir, who had followed, nodded and explained, "King’s Foil has strict and slow growth conditions, and it’s a bit difficult to transplant, so we could only get these live plants. Please forgive us."

Sylas was so happy he almost burst. How could he mind?

He had been a little envious when he saw King’s Foil planted in Lady Galadriel’s garden in Lórien.

After all, the healing effect of King’s Foil was too miraculous. It could not only heal wounds and slow down toxicity but also ward off evil forces.

But he also knew his limits, so he didn’t ask.

Now, the Dúnedain had suddenly brought him so much King’s Foil, which made him overjoyed.

He looked at the somewhat withered King’s Foil and felt heartbroken.

He had to transplant them quickly. If even one died, he would be in agony.

However, he knew he couldn’t rush and shifted his gaze to look at other herbs.

Soon, his gaze fell upon one of the wooden boxes.

Inside, there were dozens of flowers.

Half of them were golden-yellow, star-shaped, with slender petals.

The other half were white flowers, identical to the golden ones except for their color.

"The golden flowers are called Elanor, and the white ones are called Niphredil," Aldamir introduced. "They are two types of the same species of flower. One blooms during the day, and one blooms at night, and they generally only grow in places where Elves reside."

Sylas had also seen these two types of flowers in Galadriel’s garden in Lórien.

He just hadn’t expected these Dúnedain to be able to find such flowers.

Then Aldamir introduced him to the Simbelmynë, a flower that grows in the Kingdom of Rohan.

This is a small white flower, often growing on burial mounds, with eight petals, blooming year-round.

There was also the even more magical eight-colored flower, the Flower of Entwives.

This flower grows in the Old Forest. In ancient legends, eight Entwives entered the Old Forest and disappeared, and their respective flowers, in eight colors, red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple, and white, grew where they vanished.

Entwives are the female of the Ent race, while Ents are male.

It is said that the Ents and Entwives of the Tree-folk do not live together, only meeting for reproduction.

But since the eight Entwives entered the Old Forest and disappeared, the Tree-folk race has only consisted of male Ents.

There are even rumors that the Huorn, who are more like trees in the Old Forest, are actually a degenerate form of the Ent race.

However, none of this concerned Sylas. He only regretted not having encountered these Flowers of Entwives in the Old Forest before.

At the same time, he was surprised by the Dúnedain’s efficiency, being able to obtain such flowers that grow in the Old Forest.

Besides these magical flowers, there were also the blood-red flowers of Seregon, the detoxifying Nightshade, the Sea-foam flowers growing by the sea, the Sun-lilies growing in the gardens of Ithilien in Gondor, and the Stonecrop growing on cliff faces.