Ancardil of Gondolin

(The following depicts my character Ancardil and his history in detail until his time in the Lord of the Rings Online. Within this background I have included various locations, events and characters from actual Tolkien lore. Please not that all what is written is canon.)

First Age

Ancardil was born in the third century of the First Age, Years of the Sun. His parents were of the Noldor who rebelled against the Valar after the Dark Lord Morgoth took the Silmarils for himself and were dedicated members of the Kinslaying at Alqualonde. In the midst of conflict with this evil, a son was born to them in the Hidden City who they named Ancardil, and they raised him in the hidden city of Gondolin. At this time, the hair of the child was short and brown. Here in the city the city he dwelled for one hundred years until it was sacked by Morgoth's host. His parents were forever proud, which would eventually lead to their downfall. Never doubting that evil could pass through the many gates of the Hidden City, they felt that the Noldor were superior to the other kindreds. Within the great walls of the city, Ancardil found a love for the beauty of natural things and the keeping of history's secrets, both light and dark. Whilst others took advantage of the Elves great power, Ancardil preferred to remain within his family home surrounded by his books. One author he became very interested in was Talafion, who was a master of history within Beleriand. On many occasions during his youth he would visit this Elf's revered library that stood a short distance from his home, after some years of acquainting themselves, Talafion apprenticed the young Ancardil.

He taught Ancardil his craft, book-keeping, schooling and scribing. Talafion was noble in the eyes of Ancardil, with his silver hair and pale grey eyes, his white and gold robe shining clear in the sunlight along with his glowing winged circlet. Much wisdom was given by him, including compassion and mercy. Gentle and skilled became the hands of Ancardil, for he did not seek to join his kindred in battle. Within the sanctity of Talafion's home they were safe, cut off from the ever coming woes from the Dark Lord. Together they began to piece together fragments of lore left behind on battlefields. Many books they wrote with one another, some of which can be found in the Elven libraries of the present day. On envoys he would send Ancardil, to the Edain where he would gradually learn their tongues and written languages. Here in the homes of Men he became accustomed to their culture and odd ways. Many friends among them did he gain, for they found him wise and subtle whilst he felt there was much strength amongst them. Upon his return to Gondolin he was welcomed by Talafion with open arms. A vast library had they built over the years which had relics added to it every day. A son he saw Ancardil as, for his own had been lost to the darkness of Morgoth. And a father is what Talafion was seen as; his own parents had become disappointed in him for his other kindred were off fighting battles whilst he 'Dusts of their bodies looking for words which cannot be found'. Yet content he was with his life and despite only being apprenticed for sixty years, Ancardil had become wise and compassionate. Many years passed and Ancardil began to match Talafion's knowledge due to his many teachings. They were also scribes to the noble Elves and of King Turgon's council, together they were entrusted with many great secrets.  "Before you go, my son, know that my only pride in this life is spent on you." These were the last words that Ancardil heard from his master before he went home, never to look upon him alive again.

For it was after that evening that the sacking of Gondolin began due to the city being betrayed to Morgoth by Maeglin, King Turgon's own nephew. Houses burned and people fell dead to the ground. Among the smoke and death, Ancardil fled from his burning house with his kin who headed out of the city for safety. Yet his cries for his master were not answered. Through the burning streets he went, evil was all around him. Up the pale steps towards the library of Talafion where he saw the roof had collapsed and the innards had become engulfed in an inferno. Books and treasures coiled up in the heat and upon the desk that had split in two he saw him, lifeless and cold. He made several attempts to revive his fallen master yet they were not successful, no manner of Elven 'magic' could save him now. Out upon the veranda he took Talafion, who was now spent. His white and gold hair was charred, his skin was paler than ever and his silver hair had become blackened. Yet upon his head his circlet remained untarnished, still shimmering in the fire light. From him he took this and placed it upon his short brown hair, blessed him with a short yet feeling lament and ran out of the falling city. He joined a small group of Elves that were heading to the secret tunnels built by Idril, which led out from the city. From there he and the rest of the surviving Elves looked on at Gondolin, once a place of power and beauty taken to evil by the will of the darkness. Saved only by the bravery and strength of Tuor, Idril and the great Glorfindel. He was grateful that his life had been spared, yet sorrowful because so many others had not been so fortunate including the great Turgon, King of Gondolin. Fire and death was still strong in the memory of the young Ancardil, and away with the remains of his kindred he would go. He presumed that his parents had also escaped and would find their way to the refuges. For what seemed like a life age, the surviving Noldorin Elves wandered together, searching for respite in Beleriand.

Now into a refuge they went, of Sirion. Here Ancardil began to lose faith in the world, for much was lost for so little care. As many departed back to Valinor, Ancardil considered this deeply but was too overcome with sorrow to think about any journey. Ruled now by Tuor and Idril, there was a time of peace and hope for those who had fled there. Ancardil began to rebuild the knowledge that was lost in Gondolin, yet his grief for Talafion made it difficult. Tears would flood from his blue eyes whenever he opened a book, for the memory and pain of him was still too close. But from the library of Talafion he was able to grab several books and relics before departing which he now cherished for they were the last pieces of knowledge from Gondolin. Yet now more strife was to come, but not from the Dark Lord Morgoth, but their own kindred. The sons of Feanor, who came seeking the Silmaril, ravaged the refuge, killing many whilst trying to claim it. Elwing, who had possession of it, cast herself into the Sea where the jewel was saved by the Valar Ulmo and passed on to Earendil whilst he searched for Valinor to beg for aid. All was silent now, for there was no one who could speak in such a catastrophe Ancardil was once again lucky to be spared throughout the assault. The brother Maglor, seeking forgiveness for his actions raised Elrond and Elros as his own, as Elwing was their mother and Earendil was their father. Ancardil looked on as this happened, his hope in the world had come crashing down once again on this day, as Elves had turned on their own kindred to accomplish their own ends. Here in the refuge they waited for news from Earendil and the arrival of the Host of Valar. Ready for war was Ancardil, a lust for revenge had overcome him and his gentle thoughts vanished and black blood was on his mind. His books were now nothing to him, only Orc-blood would supplement his great anger.

At last, the Host had arrived from the West. Great they were, graceful and mighty. Even the great kings of the land were humbled by them, let alone Ancardil who felt strength come to him in their great presence. All the forces that answered the call for battle had arrived, the largest force ever to have walked upon Middle-earth. Men, Elves and Dwarves from across the lands came and prepared for battle, the War of Wrath had come. Away were his light robes and on came heavy armour, golden it shone in Valar's light. Off went his circlet and on came a helm. His books were out of hand and in their place was a mighty sword and shield. He was ready to be battle. With the great host he assembled, the great Elven clans, houses of Men and colonies of Dwarves made up the ranks. Never in all his years had he felt such rage than now. Together with the rest of the Host they went forth into battle, the greatest ever to have taken place on Middle-earth. A long march preceded the battle which began upon their arrival. The sounds of horns was almost deafening though among them Ancardil could still hear the roars of battle-cries and the ring of weapons being drawn. Despite never being in battle before, Ancardil slayed many Orcs and other evils with no mercy during the early stage of the battle, his rage released and his master being avenged. He looked on ahead as the Valar crushed the forces of Morgoth, and victory was almost at hand. The Elf kept in his given formation which meant the undisciplined Orcs were swiftly swiped out. As the Host pushed onwards, the Dark Lord was all but defeated. Battered was Ancardil, his mouth tainted by the foulness of those he had cut down, weary he was becoming as well. Yet Morgoth still had some dark crafts to play: Dragons he released upon them, these had not been seen before and they began to push back Host. Ancardil felt as though this was the end, he would surely die and end up in the wretched stomach of one of these beasts, yet hope was restored with the arrival of Earendil who was backed up by the Great Eagles of Manwe. They fought the dragons in the sky as the Host looked on and fought what force that remained on the ground. This beacon of hope spurred Ancardil on to the end, along with those of the Host that remained fighting. The Host were victorious, and Morgoth himself was captured in the deeps of Angband and was then taken to Aman to be tried for his crimes. The remaining Silmarils were recovered.

Celebrations swiftly followed, along with great mourning for those who had been lost. Ancardil looked upon his blackened sword and felt not victory, but disappointment. Despite those who he had slayed were unfeeling and evil, he felt that his rage was unnecessary and his lack of mercy were revolting. On his looked at what was once Beleriand now lost to war.  When all the Elves were bidden to return to Valinor, away from the broken world, Ancardil was among the few who refused, feeling he had much work to help with still and that times that are equally as trying are still ahead. He learnt that his parents had perished in the Hidden City, though he had previously believed that they had fled; in their pride they returned to the burning Gondolin and were slain. The last of his kindred in Middle-earth was he. Yet content he was with his choice. His memories of Talafion were in these lands, not any other. He looked on at the ruined lands, and helped in the rebuilding that formed the realm of Lindon, a haven for all Elves.

Second Age

The Second Age had begun, a time where the tainted past could be forgotten to some extent, where the Eldar could rebuild that which was destroyed in the previous Age. Lindon was now a symbol of the Noldor, of beauty and power. Ancardil lived under the rule of Lady Galadriel, who served under the new High King Gil-galad. In this bliss land he was again at peace after the years of strife and pain. As was his ambition since the construction of the land, Ancardil began to collect knowledge and other relics once again. Of the Lady Galadriel he thought much of, with her subtle wisdom and beauty. It was she who he saw as a leader and lord, though he still revered and served Gil-galad loyally. Towards the sea his library looks to, and the sun would beat down upon the golden roof and shimmer as did all buildings around the lands. Within the open windows would the fresh sea air seam through during the morning, and Ancardil would walk along the vast beaches there deep in thought. In the daytime he would study in his library, guiding those who came to him with his written treasures. When the sun went down and the bright lights that came out of the houses were lit, Ancardil would sit upon his balcony and listen to the fair minstrels that sung of hope and peace. A far cry this was to several years prior, where the land was in the midst of war; a broken world and broken spirits of the people there. Now a life of bliss and tranquillity was laid ahead, with Galadriel as their guide. From the few occasions that he was able to speak with her, Ancardil learnt more wisdom and compassion than any book could ever provide. "To you, Lady, I am forever at the disposal of your will. If there is anything you wish for me to do, then simply say the words.” This is what he told her on several occasions, and she would reply: "Then to that I shall hold you, your time will come when you are needed more than it seems now, though this peace you should enjoy without servitude". Thus centuries would now go on with the peace and enjoyed it he did, as the Lady had said.

With the time that went on, Ancardil became ever wiser and more at peace with himself, after a period in which his actions in the War of Wrath began to disgust him. His library became ever vaster, with more and more knowledge being added. His more adventurous kindred would return from their travels with special relics in which they entrusted with Ancardil. Many trusted his skills with 'book-keeping', his self-named craft. Though lonely he was in truth, no one to share his interests in. Yet in Lindon this was changed, for a student of the past had come to him, seeking a mentor. Gildarián was her name, of the Sindar. A beauty she was, even among the Elves. Quiet she seemed at start, and timid when approaching Ancardil. He accepted her request almost immediately, and in the guest room of his library home she moved that day. So began to relationship of Ancardil and Gildarián, he mentored her in the vast lore of Middle-earth, of history and language. Together they became close friends, exchanging their most inner thoughts with each other. Several years past, and she had become a proficient scholar, pride of Ancardil, as he had been to Talafion. Her mentoring had finished now for she was as wise as he, yet she decided to remain in the library, much to Ancardil's delight. As two, they enriched each other’s knowledge with new findings and theories. Lovers they became, and soon after exchanging their feelings they were wed in the bliss of Lindon. They kept their library for many years to come, together and loving all through the days and nights.

When the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel moved away and settled in the area of Eregion to east, Ancardil and Gildarián went with them along with many other Noldorin and Sindarin Elves. Ancardil loved this land deeply and despite his disapproval of mining and drying up the depths of the world, he came to become greatly interested in the newly found 'Dwarf-silver' that was brought up from Moria. He saw future in this metal, for it was both beautiful and strong. Here they founded no library, instead living in tranquillity that was enhanced greatly by the trade with the Dwarves of Khazad-dum. Ancardil loved the mithril that was mined by them, and he plated his precious circlet with it, for it was becoming brittle from the many years it had been worn. Now it shined forever as bright, with or without the sun. For years they dwelt here, trading freely with the Dwarves; they also traded their knowledge of metals as well, something Ancardil was involved in. Alas Eregion was never a permanent home for him and his wife, hence why he never built a library there, though the land beheld much prosperity for both the Elves and Dwarves there in that time. Here he learnt to read and write Khuzdul from the Dwarrows there, whilst befriending many of them over the years. In 1350 of the same Age, he and his wife migrated through Maria when they heard word from a Nandorin settlement in the east. With his Lord and Lady he followed, into the woods that would later be known as Lothlórien. Under their rule would he once again serve, deep within the woods. Beauty like no other beheld the migrating Elves that came out from the long halls of Moria, for no other forest in this land could match Dwimordene.

In this majestic wood, great mallorn trees were planted; silver were the trunks and gold were the leaves. Beauty sprung up out of the ground, around Ancardil. In outer Caras Galadhon he made his dwelling. Upon one of these trees a home was built for him. A large deck it was, with a round ceiling that was half open. Under an opening in the branches it was, so the sun could pour all of its light in. Such beauty he had never beheld, not even upon the beaches of Lindon. Once again, a vast collection he built up, lore was copied from that of his collection in Lindon, for within Ancardil's head are all the books he has looked upon. Gold were the walls of this home, patterned with the great care of the Elves. Warm it was by day and cool by the moonlight, the breeze of the mountains were forever refreshing. In this land of sanctity, the dark and short hair of Ancardil become light and long, silvery blonde it was in colour. Renewed were his spirits and his love for history, along with his dear lover. Much vaster was this library, for greater than Lindon. Deeper was the lore he studied and greater became his mind; the mallorn trees that were overhead and the Celebrant from which he drank from was great for one’s mind. Here in the home Ancardil, Gildarián bore him twins; a boy and a girl, whom he named Talafion and Vistilian respectively. Cherished were his children, more so than all the books he had ever possessed. With the guidance of their parents and the greatness of the woods, they both become wise and fair. Light was their hair, more so than most Eldar. His son grew taller than he, with much more natural strength. Vistilian was as fair as her mother, with much grace flowing before her. The fairest of all the Elf-realms was his home now and that best protected in Ancardil's eyes, for he trusted the Lord and Lady's power and wisdom to keep any evil in check.

The rest of the Second Age remained peaceful for Ancardil and his family. To the Greenwood went Talafion when he came of age, to join the hunters there. East to Lindon went Vistilian, where she kept the same library in which her parents first met. Revered and great she was said to become, perhaps even advising to court of the High King. No more children did Gildarián and Ancardil have, as they felt that they have given enough to the world in that form. Still they continued with their library, which became ever greater. Filled with more and more students it was, seeking to learn from the knowledge that was kept there. Ancardil and Gildarián were known as ‘Mentor’ to many, yet humble they remained. For this was their service to the world which they had enjoyed for so many years now. Even among some Men were they known, and a handful of those kindred came to the Golden Wood, seeking a part of that knowledge for them. Though Ancardil was ever wary of the desires that Men had, so was therefore careful in what he taught; for in his mind knowledge is power. Many languages did he study, that of Westron, Rohirric and Khuzdul. Fluently did he speak the tongues of Men, though only read and write that of the Dwarves he could for he did not have the tone to speak it. A fine ambassador he would perhaps have made, yet he did not seek to leave the comfort and peace of Lothlórien. Away was he from the great wears and woes of the world: The fall of Númenor included.

Unaware was he of any ‘Rings’ being crafted in Eregion. For Celebrimbor had kept this a secret. Only when the War of the Elves and Sauron broke out did he begin to understand what had been going on in the west of his home. Yet despite the on-going strife of the war, Ancardil felt protected within Lothlórien, he sensed a power had settled within the wood that made it invulnerable to attack. When news reached the Wood concerning the fall of Eregion and the death of Celebrimbor along the closing of the Moria gate, Ancardil fell silent for a long period of time, such was the same with the rest of his kindred there. Despite this loss and pain, the War was over and peace resumed for some time. At this time following the War, many of Ancardil’s friends and former students had departed to the West, though despite having plenty of reasons and opportunities to leave he refused to, thus his dear wife also stayed loyal to him in Lórien. Though a toll the conflict had on him, despite not being an active participant, he was now more sorrowful and quiet. The Woods were also silent for most of the time, save the clear laments from the fair voices of the Galadhrim. Only through messages from Imladris did Lothlórien hear news from Eriador and from the rare times that the Sindar from Greenwood did they hear from the north. Yet Ancardil was ever aware that his defeat in Eriador would not weaken Sauron, the new Dark Lord nor his ambitions. On clear days he would look the east, where his eyes could catch sight of the Ash Mountains in the far distance. All knew that Lórien was the closest of the remaining Elven realms to Mordor, yet protected they were by a greater force, unknown to most.

 From the ruins of Eriador, relics were brought to Lórien and given to Ancardil. Many of them contained remains of the Black Speech on them which he started to study, but with the sincere counsel of the Lord and Lady and the pain it placed on his heart, he decided not to go any further with the pieces and kept them well hidden from all sight. Though through this brief study he was able to recognize the Black Speech on sight, despite not being able to read it very well. Of Númenor he heard of, of their greatness and wisdom. Yet of their pride and greed he also learned, of their jealously of the immortal Eldars. News then came to Ancardil of the Númenorians banning the Elves from their lands and then the language of the Eldar, followed by a civil war and unrest. Ancardil and Gildarián took counsel together, wondering if they could do anything to lessen the strife. Yet the Lady Galadriel bid them that “The time of Men is upon the world, we must only guide them with our teachings. What they do with our counsel, I cannot tell. Though their acts are their own to fashion.” A short while after this, great tidings came of the ‘Ship-kings’ capturing the Dark Lord with their mighty force. To their island they took him, a breath of hope and possibility of peace came over Ancardil, though as many times before, this was not to be. Now whispers came of the Númenorians landing the Blessed Realm, breaking their promise not to do so. Ancardil became sorrowful, for the greed of Men had allowed them to be corrupted by ill words. Then more destruction came, for the Ship-kings were now banished from Valinor which was now removed from the world. The island of Númenor sank beneath the depths of the Sea. A grave time indeed this was for all, especially the Firstborn who had put so much faith in Men. The Undying Lands now seemed much more appealing than they had before, yet after counsel with his wife, they decided to brace the world in the safety of the Golden Wood. 

News from his daughter ceased, for the passage over the Mountains had become very difficult. There in Lindon she remained or West she went, Ancardil did not know. News from Eriador became ever sparser from Rivendell. Yet of the Faithful Númenorians the Lord and Lady told them, those who remained loyal to the Valar and the Eldar. Faith was restored in Men, led by Elendil. Great kingdoms did Ancardil look on at: Arnor in the west and Gondor to the south. These people were friendly with the Elves, and graced Lothlórien with their presence, Ancardil gave them many treasures of wisdom on their visits, and they were able to converse in Elvish which the Faithful still used.  For some time these Men and Elves lived in peace, no wars or strife in the world. This ended with the taking of Minas Ithil, in Gondor by Sauron who renamed the city ‘Minas Morgul’. Thus after a year of counsel among Men and Elves, an Alliance was formed which meant war was inevitable. Sorrowful was Ancardil, yet he felt ready to take up arms one last time, in order to end evil forever and rid the world of Sauron, Morgoth’s last great servant.

Several years followed of preparation among both Men and Elves. Crafting instruments of war and training any one able to fight in the art of combat. Word was sent to Lórien telling them that the Alliance had reached Rivendell and would be upon them soon. From a chest that had not been opened in over three millenniums was unlocked, and out of it came Ancardil’s armour from the War of the Wrath. Untarnished it still remained, and his sword was still sharp. Less rage did he possess this time, for no personal revenge did this war contain. The air in the Wood was also so pure that no ill thoughts would take hold. Here in a realm which has known only peace now held Elves who were heavily armed with merciless weapons and thick armour. A few days before the Alliance arrived, the Lady of Lórien gathered all her people together. “Fear not this war, for soon days of peace will follow. Have courage in the Dark Lands, for that shall see you well.” With that she gave them each a leaf of mallorn. The Alliance now marched into the Golden Wood, a host of Númenorians joined by the remaining clans of Elves: of Lindon, Imladris and Greenwood. Even the Dwarves of Moria joined the host. Here he met his son, Talafion, whom he had not seen for many years now. Even taller and stronger he was than before, and proud. The Alliance left the Wood whilst Gildarián looked on at her greatest love.

A long march now followed, south down the Anduin. Yet weary Ancardil did not become, for he was determined to fight with as much courage and determination as he could muster. After weeks of travelling, they met up with the rest of the Alliance: Elendil’s son, Anárion awaited them just before Mordor. Clearer and clearer the black land became, yet the closer Ancardil marched, the darkness became more imminent.  Across the Plains of Dagorlad they marched, the air thick with foul smog. Ancardil looked up the great gates of Mordor, which slowly opened as the Alliance advanced. From this came large hordes of Orcs came from, and the Alliance began to form their ranks, as they had been trained to over the years of preparation. Part of the great line of shields was Ancardil part of, behind the banner of the Galadhrim. An unbreakable defence was now formed, and the formation was complete. Now the foul creations of the darkness charged in an unruly fashion towards the Alliance, yet the host did not falter. Most Orcs fell upon the Plains before they even reached the Alliance due to the efficient archery of the Elves and Men. The rest were felled by great sword and spearmen. The battle ensued for weeks on end, for out of the Black Gate did the Dark Lord pour his creatures out of. Yet the great discipline and strength of the Alliance was able to push them back though the gate. Ancardil now felt very weary, and the same taint was in his mouth from the War of Wrath. Yet he continued his fight on the front line, slaying many Orcs with little mercy. Of those Orcs that were pushed back, most were killed by the pursuing archers who were protected by the shield that still held. Horns of victory sounded across the land, and Ancardil was able to take some time out for a short rest and much needed food. Yet in this moment of rest, the Dark Lord himself revealed himself from his tower. Ancardil ran with all speed into position, and looked upon Sauron himself, and for the first time genuine fear took his heart. Felled was the High King Gil-galad and then Elendil the Tall, both at the hand of the Dark Lord. Yet defeat was not an option for the Alliance and Elendil’s son, Isildur cut the Ring from his mighty hand, thus undoing his evil. Ancardil looked on at this; another beacon of hope was lit within his soul. The remaining Orcs were all slain by the victors and he witnessed the destruction of Barad-dur. Yet his expectations in Men were thwarted on this day, for the Ring was not destroyed and Isildur left the Dagorlad with it in his possession.

After burying their dead in the Plains, the Alliance disbanded and those who survived began to long walk home. With the remaining Galadhrim of the battle did Ancardil join, and back towards the Wood they marched, weary and seeking a long rest. Many decided on the return journey that they would go into the West. Yet Ancardil did not feel this way, though despite he had once again lost faith in the world, especially Men, he believe that in the next Age they might call upon his help. But he sickened himself as he did during the War of the Wrath which led to one hundred years of solitude, dwelling upon the banks of the Anduin in complete silence, eating sparsely and thinking lightly. Of Gildarián he thought of often, believing that she would be disappointed in him, though after much time he yearned to return to the Golden Wood. Onwards towards his home he went. Lothlórien remained the same as it was before their departure, the Lord and Lady welcomed them back with a great honour and rewards. Yet all who dwelt there now were sorrowful, more so than before. Gildarián was among them, yet with her she brought a gift: a child conceived on the eve of his departure. Fair he was, with similarities to his father, yet his mother's Sindarin blood ran strong in him. He was named Halafien and had kept his mother company for a century, for she knew that her love had not fell within Mordor. She bid him to travel westwards with her, he declined for there was still much work to be done in Middle-earth. A last night they spent together, and she promised to remain true to him and wait for his arrival. Together they rode to the Grey Havens, where they spoke for a last time. At last she boarded a grey ship and sailed westwards into the mist. Silence fell once again upon the Golden Wood, and fewer now dwelt here. Into the Third Age he would go alone, with nought but his library for company. Halafien had followed in his brother's steps and headed north towards the Greenwood to find Talafion there shortly after his mother's departure, for he has neither interest in books nor any other study. Yet a beacon of hope filled his heart at the turn of the Age, for he knew that an evil had been vanquished for good in the First Age, so it could be done again as long as an alliance remained between the Free Peoples of Middle-earth.

Third Age

For many centuries Ancardil served under the Lord and Lady of Lórien. His collection grew ever vaster, yet its significance dwindled. On starry nights his mind would wander far over the mountains that towered to the west into Eriador, yet to the Sea he never looked. The ruins of Eregion lay beneath his feet and all the lands had changed since his eyes last saw them. Men had made settlements around the Lost Realm of Arnor, such as Bree-land. The River-folk from the old tales lived peacefully in their holes and Dwarves secluded themselves within the great mountain halls. This was a land that was free from outright war and evil. He loved Lothlórien and the great mallorn trees, the Lord and Lady too yet within the Golden Wood he did not feel as though he would ever find peace. Ancardil went to the House of Celeborn to seek counsel on what to do: Stay in Lothlórien, travel westwards into Eriador or pass over the Sea. "Alas, there is much work for you to do here yet. Though there might be work for you within Valinor. Follow your heart, Ancardil student of Talafion, for it will guide you into peace and greatness" spoke Celeborn the Wise. Away he went back into his beloved library and remained deep in thought for many days. Until such a time that he decided to seek service in the Valley of Imladris, within the famed Library of Elrond. He returned to the Lord and Lady to take leave from Lórien, promising never to leave the shores of Middle-earth until he looked upon the Golden Wood once more. He also bid them to keep the contents of his collection, as a parting gift for their kindness and guidance. In return the Galadhrim granted Ancardil with a horse decorated in fine white and gold dressing.

The following morning, he left Lothlórien with tearful eyes and began the long passage of the Misty Mountains. It took him weeks to make it over the other side for he had never attempted to climb it before. He reached Hollin on a pleasant and warm evening; outwards he looked across Eregion which was now a ruin of what he remembered. Just like the dream, the great Elven structures and bustling traders had vanished with the years. With his steed, who he named 'Luthien', he rode lightly to the north towards the great forest of Trollshaws. The evening sun shone on the red leaves of the trees, and Ancardil enjoyed a pleasant ride that took him several days. Refreshed by the waters of the Bruinen he rode on towards Rivendell, where he arrived on the first light. He was greeted by his Noldorin kindred and shown to Lord Elrond. As he passed the many steps and bridges on his way to the Last Homely House, he remembered witnessing Elrond's mother's sacrifice and the arrival of his father with the Great Eagles. All about him the light shone, unlike the shady Lórien. He now entered the House of Elrond and was escorted into the fabled library. There he stood, noble yet humble at the same time, Lord Elrond Half elven. "Ancardil of Gondolin, welcome. I have foreseen your coming from afar along with your intentions. Your work is known to me and we would welcome you to serve within this house of knowledge". He agreed almost immediately and the Lord bid him to begin the next day and to rest under the sun on this day. Ancardil did indeed begin the next day, working alongside other great scholars in the most revered collection of knowledge in Middle-earth. Thus began his new life in Imladris. He was entrusted with the keeping of many great pieces of lore and artefacts, great relics from Middle-earth were taken to Rivendell for safe keeping. This included the shards of Narsil and Aiglos. With his skill in linguistics, Ancardil became a notable translator in Rivendell and transcribed many books form foreign tongues into Westron or Sindarin. From Lord Elrond he learnt how to decipher Moon-runes, something that was rare even among the Elves. The Lord of Imladris also granted him a fair house within the Valley, one similar to the homes of Gondolin made of marble and fine tiles. This was a home only, not a library as well. In the mornings he would wander through the valley and along the flow of the Bruinen, much like he had done in Lindon so long ago. Many came to Rivendell from afar: travellers seeking refuge and rest, others seeking counsel and knowledge. From Eriador they were aware of the strife of Men far away and of the gathering of evil forces in the east. Though they were relatively safe where they were, the mountains keeping the darkness at bay. Here in Rivendell there was a presence of protection and sanctuary, much like in Lothlórien though the Elves never spoke of such matters as they prized knowledge greatly. Among themselves, the Elves of the library traded the lore of history freely. Yet they were ever wary of the travellers that found their way to the Hidden Valley, as they came seeking knowledge eagerly yet their intentions were often ill.

As a rule, Ancardil would ask the reasoning for their interest in the books. If he did not feel they were sincere, then he would not allow them to take anything from the library. Unlike in Lórien news was not scarce. From the edge of Eriador they knew exactly what was happening in the outer world, whether it is west or east of the mountains. From the south, a great reputation of Gondor at the height of the realm's power. Ancardil remained in Rivendell during the lines of kings, along with the civil unrest and war in that land. The Valley, specifically the library, remained a great source of knowledge to all and therefore Ancardil of Gondolin was always kept busy. His tasks included translating copies written in ancient tongues into more readable languages such as Sindarin or Westron. He also often guided Men and other Elves directly when they came seeking counsel in Imladris. He was now more social than he was in Lórien, free from the expected silence. Fair harps and flutes echoed across the valley at all hours, which was most relaxing for everyone.

Yet after a long period of peace in Imladris, it was besieged by the forces of Angmar during the war between Arnor and the Witch-king. For five decades the siege lasted and for Ancardil there was no scribing nor reading at this time for everyone there was ever watchful and prepared in case the defence of the valley failed. He now wielded a blade at all times, something he had not done for so long. Yet if the forces of Angmar did indeed enter the Valley, he would willingly fight to protect the knowledge and people of Imladris. Yet relief eventually came from Lórien and the siege was broken. Music once again played in Rivendell now that the threat had passed, and Ancardil returned to the library of Elrond. Yet the Witch-king's malice continued throughout Eriador, storming the Kingdom of Arnor. Aid came from the Elves of Rivendell and Lindon, thus Angmar was pushed out of Eriador. Now resumed a general feel of peace and control, in the lands. Ancardil heard much of the decline in Gondor and the fall of the kings. Yet he remained an enthusiastic enforcer of knowledge and continued to counsel those who came seeking advice in Rivendell. Ancardil often looked out from the verandas of Rivendell, he would smell the air and notice how much it had changed since his youth his Gondolin, yet he knew that the world was changing for better or for worse.

The changing world however did not have much toil on Imladris, nor Ancardil. Whilst plague ravaged Rhovanion and affected the rest of the West, he continued his work within the protected Valley. Many events unfolded over the next few centuries, Angmar continued to raid Arnor while the evils of the east and south continued to assault Gondor. Though whilst Gondor was able to withhold the attacks, Arnor fell in 1974 and its destruction was felt heavily in the Last Homely House. Though afterwards the Dark Lord Sauron disappeared from all sight and the Free Peoples were able to enjoy the Watchful Peace. In this time more Elves and Men came to Rivendell to use its collection of knowledge, news came from the east that 'Mirkwood' had become a slightly lighter place. Such times reminded Ancardil of Lindon, and how peaceful and bliss it was there. The residents of Imladris also looked on the prosperous Shire, and the 'Perinnath' who dwelled there. To them, the halfings were a shining example of the coming 'Younger Days'. Though they never made direct contact with these small folk, as they felt it may disrupt their peaceful lifestyles.

For the next few centuries, Ancardil's life and vocation remained very much unchanged. He was present when the child 'Estel' was brought to Rivendell with his mother. He knew, as did most Elves, who this child really was and what he could become. The fostered son of Elrond often took to the library seeking knowledge there. Ancardil would often aid him to find what he was looking for, sometimes leading to conversations between them. He was also in Imladris during the arrival of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. On that day it was the first time he had seen a Dwarf since his time in Eregion, though he was surprised to see that the Dwarrows had not changed at all since the Second Age; resistant and courteous. There he also looked upon a Hobbit for the first time, Bilbo Baggins was his name and he was among the company of thirteen. Ancardil was aware of the nature of their quest and wished them all well as they departed. Even now he remembers all of their names: Balin, Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli, Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, Glóin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Thorin Oakenshield himself, each with their own personality and skills.

For the next sixty years, Ancardil remained at Lord Elrond's service and the collection within the library had become the largest in Middle-earth. He had taken on several students during his time in Rivendell who would then go on to work with him in the Last Homely House. But in the spring of 3018, his life in Rivendell would end. His Lord approached him in the morning when the sun was pale. "Ancardil of Gondolin, faithful servant to knowledge, you have kept this library safe for many centuries now and I feel that I have a greater task for you, if you are willing." He spoke. "I am willing to follow your bidding, my Lord Elrond" Ancardil replied, bowing his head. "Then my bidding is this: I have looked west into Eriador and have seen an Order that would seek the aid of a scholar such as you. The Knights of Eriador they are called, led by Arangilas Bloodrage, son of Eldonaar. They are an order of many colours, Men, Elves, Dwarves and even Hobbits. Within the town of Hookworth you shall find them, in Bree-land. Seek them out, and serve them. There you shall find more purpose than here, for this land is fading whilst that land is beginning to prosper. Go forth now, and all the best". Thus with that Ancardil packed a bag full of his essentials and was granted a steed from Elrond's stables. So began the long ride west into Bree-land where he will seek out Arangilas Bloodrage and the Knights of Eriador.

"I am Ancardil, of Gondolin, Lindon, Eregion, Lothlórien and Imladris. I will serve you until Ulmo summons me West."