[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]
My Lord Elrond speaks to the council of elves, men and dwarves on the subject of the rising dark; the increasing threat of the Mordor forces. And I cannot help but allow my mindseye to slip back into the long suppressed but not forgotten memories of the last war of the cursed ring.
I don't often look back at such harsh times and when I do it is merely for the education purposes of the Lord's Elrohir and Elladan and the Lady Arwen. But even then it is rare that I teach such subjects. Glorfindel understands my intense dislike of that particular time; he understands that I find it difficult to think clearly when the subject arises so he takes it upon himself, regardless of his own feelings on the matter, to teach them the history.
My understanding is that Glorfindel also tells Elrohir, Elladan and Arwen not to ask their father about such things either. And I completely, whole- heartedly understand. Lord Elrond, we all for that matter, lost many of our kin. We lost a well-respected king; we lost friends, family... It was a tragic battle, lives were lost but despite the Prince of Gondor refusing to destroy the ring of power, it ended in peace. As peaceful as a land could get with the numerous orc's roaming the planes of Middle-earth at least.
I watch him now and on the surface I see a calm, collected elf-Lord talking of the dark threat. I see the front he puts up for all around and I see right through it. Of course, I am one of few who can; the others being his children and Glorfindel. He hurts as he speaks. I know after the meeting is over he will retreat to his chambers to sit and think over his past.
My eye catches that of Glorfindel and I can see his thoughts are exactly where mine are. I stifle a sigh and make myself focus on Elrond's rather depressing mantra.
I watch the Lord and Ruler of Imladris recite his well-practiced speech to the council; the speech I myself have memorised from the many times my Lord has gone over it with me present. I have no doubt in my mind that Glorfindel and a few other high council members also know it by heart.
I find myself again loosing myself in my thoughts. My eyes are on the standing form of my Lord as my mind wanders. I think of the final battle of the last alliance. I think of the fall of both men and of elves. I think and I think and I think... I know it is not doing me well as it does not do well to dwell on the past but I cannot help myself.
So I sit, listening to my Lord Elrond speak to the council and I think it would be too soon before I see a battle field once more. As my eye once more catches Glorfindel's I know he knows my pain.
Then those words are uttered.
Black speech: the only language that I know and hate at the same time. For an Elf to hate something it is saying quite a lot. And when I say I hate it, I mean I hate it with a passion. I detest its very existence and here, the Istar is chanting it. The sky surrounding the valley darkens and I'm wincing at every syllable uttered. Out of the corner of my half-closed eye I see my woodland kin in addition to Lord Elrond and Glorfindel wincing also.
"Ash nazg durbatulyk ush nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulyk agh burzum- ishi krimpatul!"
The words implant themselves into my brain after over two-thousand years of managing to avoid hearing such things. I know very well the meaning of the words, by Elbereth do I know the meaning but that does not mean to say that I wish to par-take in a hearing of the language!
Lord Elrond spoke a mild-reprimand to the Istar and I find myself wanting to retreat to my chambers. I do not want to be in the presence of Gandalf the Grey for very much longer.
I feel a gentle touch on my left shoulder and risk a glance back. There stands Glorfindel, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips and I cannot help but return the gesture weakly.
The council is a mass of argument now. I sigh inwardly, leaning back into my friend's touch. I allow my eyes to roam over the small crowd and note with a slip of grim amusement that the Mirkwood Prince is attempting, in vain, to keep the elves he travelled here with in line.
The Prince, while keeping his mouth firmly shut, looks around quickly and seems to have noticed my amusement of the situation because he sends me a scowl that should never find its way onto Royalty's features. My lips twitch in a smirk, despite my previous darkened thought, the look on the Prince's face is simply too much for me not to react to. He noticed the look, inclining his head slightly in polite defeat before returning his attention to the mass of voices.
My gaze suddenly turns to the Halfling present. I see his gaze is set on the ring that resides in the centre of the stone podium Lord Elrond requested he put it on some time earlier. He looks as though he is being forced to make the biggest decision of his young life.
I feel for him, I well and truly do. No man, Hobbit, Dwarf, Wizard or Elf should burden themselves with this evil concoction. Yet I know that the ring cannot remain in Rivendell. Lord Elrond mentioned this more than once since the Halfling's arrival. And I know in my heart that this small, innocent Hobbit will have to be the one to carry it to Mordor.
"I will take the Ring." The Halfling speaks up, surprising all but a few with his words. I do not blame them.
I look in his heart and I see an innocence there that no one else at this meeting possesses... even my kind. He has a strong will and I know not why, but I feel pride swell within me.
My gaze finds the Istar once more and I am reminded to the earlier speech he practically boomed out for all to hear. My eyes drop to my lap where my hands rest, clasped together, and I sigh. I find myself longing to be away from the stifling atmosphere it seems only I can sense.
Without being formally dismissed, I rise from my seat, feeling Glorfindel's hand slip from its perch and I begin to walk away.
"Erestor." I hear My Lord Elrond call out and I pause. My left foot poised on the first of five steps leading into the confines of corridor.
"Forgive me, My Lord." I say without turning. I know it is rude but if I turn around I fear I will break down. "I cannot stay here this evening a moment longer." And with those words, I continue up the steps and down the long corridor. I hope Lord Elrond understands my need for solitude, for I do not intend to speak with anyone until the morn sun arises.
I thought of this when I was watching the Council of Elrond scene. I saw the dark-haired elf at Elrond's right hand and thought immediately of Erestor. For obvious reasons, I would imagine. Anyway, I came up with this and I'm not sure if I should continue or leave it as a one-shot.
I pray the people who review will help me in that respect... if any.
I hope you enjoy it. Review!
Thank you!!
A Counselor's Musings.
My Lord Elrond speaks to the council of elves, men and dwarves on the subject of the rising dark; the increasing threat of the Mordor forces. And I cannot help but allow my mindseye to slip back into the long suppressed but not forgotten memories of the last war of the cursed ring.
I don't often look back at such harsh times and when I do it is merely for the education purposes of the Lord's Elrohir and Elladan and the Lady Arwen. But even then it is rare that I teach such subjects. Glorfindel understands my intense dislike of that particular time; he understands that I find it difficult to think clearly when the subject arises so he takes it upon himself, regardless of his own feelings on the matter, to teach them the history.
My understanding is that Glorfindel also tells Elrohir, Elladan and Arwen not to ask their father about such things either. And I completely, whole- heartedly understand. Lord Elrond, we all for that matter, lost many of our kin. We lost a well-respected king; we lost friends, family... It was a tragic battle, lives were lost but despite the Prince of Gondor refusing to destroy the ring of power, it ended in peace. As peaceful as a land could get with the numerous orc's roaming the planes of Middle-earth at least.
I watch him now and on the surface I see a calm, collected elf-Lord talking of the dark threat. I see the front he puts up for all around and I see right through it. Of course, I am one of few who can; the others being his children and Glorfindel. He hurts as he speaks. I know after the meeting is over he will retreat to his chambers to sit and think over his past.
My eye catches that of Glorfindel and I can see his thoughts are exactly where mine are. I stifle a sigh and make myself focus on Elrond's rather depressing mantra.
I watch the Lord and Ruler of Imladris recite his well-practiced speech to the council; the speech I myself have memorised from the many times my Lord has gone over it with me present. I have no doubt in my mind that Glorfindel and a few other high council members also know it by heart.
I find myself again loosing myself in my thoughts. My eyes are on the standing form of my Lord as my mind wanders. I think of the final battle of the last alliance. I think of the fall of both men and of elves. I think and I think and I think... I know it is not doing me well as it does not do well to dwell on the past but I cannot help myself.
So I sit, listening to my Lord Elrond speak to the council and I think it would be too soon before I see a battle field once more. As my eye once more catches Glorfindel's I know he knows my pain.
Then those words are uttered.
Black speech: the only language that I know and hate at the same time. For an Elf to hate something it is saying quite a lot. And when I say I hate it, I mean I hate it with a passion. I detest its very existence and here, the Istar is chanting it. The sky surrounding the valley darkens and I'm wincing at every syllable uttered. Out of the corner of my half-closed eye I see my woodland kin in addition to Lord Elrond and Glorfindel wincing also.
"Ash nazg durbatulyk ush nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulyk agh burzum- ishi krimpatul!"
The words implant themselves into my brain after over two-thousand years of managing to avoid hearing such things. I know very well the meaning of the words, by Elbereth do I know the meaning but that does not mean to say that I wish to par-take in a hearing of the language!
Lord Elrond spoke a mild-reprimand to the Istar and I find myself wanting to retreat to my chambers. I do not want to be in the presence of Gandalf the Grey for very much longer.
I feel a gentle touch on my left shoulder and risk a glance back. There stands Glorfindel, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips and I cannot help but return the gesture weakly.
The council is a mass of argument now. I sigh inwardly, leaning back into my friend's touch. I allow my eyes to roam over the small crowd and note with a slip of grim amusement that the Mirkwood Prince is attempting, in vain, to keep the elves he travelled here with in line.
The Prince, while keeping his mouth firmly shut, looks around quickly and seems to have noticed my amusement of the situation because he sends me a scowl that should never find its way onto Royalty's features. My lips twitch in a smirk, despite my previous darkened thought, the look on the Prince's face is simply too much for me not to react to. He noticed the look, inclining his head slightly in polite defeat before returning his attention to the mass of voices.
My gaze suddenly turns to the Halfling present. I see his gaze is set on the ring that resides in the centre of the stone podium Lord Elrond requested he put it on some time earlier. He looks as though he is being forced to make the biggest decision of his young life.
I feel for him, I well and truly do. No man, Hobbit, Dwarf, Wizard or Elf should burden themselves with this evil concoction. Yet I know that the ring cannot remain in Rivendell. Lord Elrond mentioned this more than once since the Halfling's arrival. And I know in my heart that this small, innocent Hobbit will have to be the one to carry it to Mordor.
"I will take the Ring." The Halfling speaks up, surprising all but a few with his words. I do not blame them.
I look in his heart and I see an innocence there that no one else at this meeting possesses... even my kind. He has a strong will and I know not why, but I feel pride swell within me.
My gaze finds the Istar once more and I am reminded to the earlier speech he practically boomed out for all to hear. My eyes drop to my lap where my hands rest, clasped together, and I sigh. I find myself longing to be away from the stifling atmosphere it seems only I can sense.
Without being formally dismissed, I rise from my seat, feeling Glorfindel's hand slip from its perch and I begin to walk away.
"Erestor." I hear My Lord Elrond call out and I pause. My left foot poised on the first of five steps leading into the confines of corridor.
"Forgive me, My Lord." I say without turning. I know it is rude but if I turn around I fear I will break down. "I cannot stay here this evening a moment longer." And with those words, I continue up the steps and down the long corridor. I hope Lord Elrond understands my need for solitude, for I do not intend to speak with anyone until the morn sun arises.
I thought of this when I was watching the Council of Elrond scene. I saw the dark-haired elf at Elrond's right hand and thought immediately of Erestor. For obvious reasons, I would imagine. Anyway, I came up with this and I'm not sure if I should continue or leave it as a one-shot.
I pray the people who review will help me in that respect... if any.
I hope you enjoy it. Review!
Thank you!!