A/N: I'm always intrigued by things that happen behind the scenes. This story outlines events in the movie, specifically the "Council of Elrond", from Figwit's prejudiced POV. Much of the dialogue is taken straight from the DVD extended version, as well as the actions and expressions of the actors.
If you do not know who Figwit is, shame on you! Please look him up, or else you won't enjoy the story quite so much. And if you don't know who Faelon or Anarin are, ditto to the above; just google their names.
According to the Decipher card, Figwit's real name is Aegnor (not the same Aegnor mentioned in the Silmarillion; perhaps Figwit was named after him). On the card, he's called an "Elvish escort", hence his job as one of Elrond's attendants. I've made Faelon Figwit's older brother; the actor portraying Faelon is the older brother of the actor portraying Figwit. I also named the elf who sits next to Figwit at the Council Nendir, and made him Elrond's Chief Scribe.
Enjoy!
Through the Eyes of an Escort
Aegnor hummed softly to himself as he braided his hair before a little wall-mirror. He was to go to the Council meeting that afternoon, and although he was only taking someone else's place, he was quite aware of the significance of the occasion. He had taken special care in choosing his robes, and now only needed to get this blasted braid just right.
A sudden knock on the door caused his hand to slip, and the carefully-plaited hair unwound rapidly. Suppressing an oath, Aegnor reached again for his comb. "Yes?" he called, smothering his irritation.
The door creaked open, and a sheepish-looking Faelon sidled into the room, clutching a set of light-grey robes. The older elf cleared his throat self-consciously. "Erm… brother?" he asked, shifting his feet. "Could you possibly…?"
"Of course", Aegnor said with a gracious nod. Abandoning his hair for the moment, he swept forward to assist Faelon in putting on his complicated formal robes.
"I absolutely despise these", the elder brother grumbled as the garments were pulled over his head, mussing his long hair. "Why did Glorfindel have to ask me to take his place? He hates going to these meetings just as much as I do, and I'm only the Captain of the Guard!"
Aegnor nodded dutifully, choosing to remain silent as he expertly arranged the flowing material. His nimble fingers were busy buttoning and tying, folding and fastening, and soon he had completed his handiwork. He draped the long grey cloak artfully over his brother's shoulders, before placidly going back to braiding his hair.
Faelon surveyed his reflection carefully in the full-length wardrobe mirror, unwillingly impressed by the drastic transformation. He gave an admiring whistle at his brother's talents. "How do you do it?" he marvelled, shaking his head.
"Well", the younger brother answered in the middle of weaving a complex five-stranded braid, "When you are one of Lord Elrond's attendants, you have to show some style."
That remark elicited a soft laugh from Faelon. "Personally, I cannot wait to see the getup our Lord has chosen for this meeting" grinned the young Captain. "He always did like to make an impression on visitors, and with other races attending…" The dark-haired elf sobered suddenly, and Aegnor shot his brother a quick look. "I cannot believe that we are allowing dwarves through our gates", Faelon grumbled mutinously. "You would not believe the security measures I have had to formulate! Lord Elrond can be exceedingly difficult; I am responsible for the safety of the elves in Imladris, and he does something imprudent like this."
"Surely the dwarves are not such a serious threat?" Aegnor observed, having finished braiding his hair.
His brother heaved a sigh of frustration as he took a seat. "No", he admitted, "But of course, those brainless stunted creatures would insist upon bringing their axes into the meeting, no matter how I try to reason with them."
The younger elf hid a smile at the idea of Faelon 'reasoning' with dwarves. "But weapons are forbidden, are they not?" he asked, forcing his face into a look of mild concern as he picked up his comb once more.
"Yes, but they submitted an appeal to Lord Elrond's goodwill, and he relented. Some nonsense about respecting their customs… Anyway, there will be four dwarves with axes in there – maddest idea I ever heard." The elf shook his head, disturbing Aegnor's attempts to fashion his brother's hair into something presentable. "Lord Glorfindel did give me permission to wear a hidden dagger, as a precaution", Faelon carried on. "I asked for a contingent of fully-armed guards, but you know how Lord Elrond would react to that."
Aegnor tied off the braid, thinking that if his brother only put a little more effort into his appearance, he wouldn't look half-bad. "Yes, I do know", the young elf agreed dryly. "I attend him four days a week." He straightened his robes, scrupulously flicking dust from the shoulders. "There will not only be only murderous dwarves there, brother, but men also", he mused. "I am most curious to see them."
"Good", Faelon said absently as he checked the dagger strapped to his arm. "Because you will be taking Elladan's seat next to Estel – or rather, Lord Aragorn of the Dunedain."
"I – what?" Aegnor was aware of his careful composure visibly slipping, and his brother's amused expression did not help it one bit.
"Well, you remember Estel from his time here", Faelon reasoned, "And you are both good friends of the twins. Estel may have questions about what they have been up to."
"Ah", the younger elf nodded sagely, his voice deadpan. "You mean like eating, sleeping, and slaughtering orcs. There's really not much else, is there? Nothing new to report at all. No need for catching up."
Faelon's brow puckered in confusion. "Why do you decline to sit beside the man?"
"We had better leave now, we are running late", said the younger elf quickly, striding out of the room. That was a lie, but Faelon let it slip. The two brothers walked down the open hallway, enjoying the warm breeze.
"Now, Aegnor", Faelon warned, "During this meeting you must stay seated and silent."
"I understand", the younger elf said aloofly. "I have been to meetings before. Why are you telling me this?"
"And – er – try not to glare at Prince Legolas."
Aegnor froze in his tracks, and Faelon walked a step past him before stopping.
"He is here?" the young elf asked shakily.
"Of course", said Faelon in what he hoped was a calming tone of voice. "He is representing his father. Did you not see him at dinner last night? No, wait – you were absent. Where were you, anyway?"
Aegnor's pale face flushed light pink. "Well", he mumbled, staring at his shoes, "I was… er… keeping an eye on Lady Arwen, under Elrond's orders. She decided to miss dinner, and instead… um… spend the evening in the company of…of…"
"I see", his older brother remarked, mouth twitching. "I hope it was not too painful."
"Painful? No, excruciating", admitted Aegnor, his ears turning even pinker. "I do not think I have ever been so uncomfortable."
Faelon's grey eyes twinkled merrily at his brother's discomfiture. "Ah, now I understand why you do not wish to sit next to him."
"She is like a sister to me!" the young elf protested, his voice rising for the first time. "How would you feel about it? Oh – never mind."
Faelon and Aegnor walked on briskly until they entered the Council floor, where more chairs than usual had been placed around the perimeter. Elrond was already present, wearing sweeping autumnal robes and an ornate circlet on his brow. The half-elven was deep in conversation with Erestor and Chief Scribe Nendir; both senior elves had dressed in severe black and grey.
At the entrance of the two younger elves, Elrond frowned. "Where is Glorfindel?" he asked sternly.
Faelon took a half-step forward. "He sent me in his stead, my Lord", he answered nervously. Elrond and Erestor exchanged a significant glance that promised serious repercussions for Glorfindel, and the half-elf sighed and waved his hand. "Very well. You may take his place at my right. Where is Elladan?"
It was Aegnor's turn to step forth. "He asked me to take his place, my Lord", he said, keeping his expression mild. "Lords Elladan and Elrohir left three days ago to curb an uprising of orcs near the High Pass."
Lord Elrond's frown deepened, but he only gave a nod before turning back to the conversation. Aegnor moved to stand beside and slightly behind him without interrupting the discussion.
Faelon, neurotic as ever, made a quick patrol of the surrounding area. Nobody would be able to tell just by looking at him, but Aegnor's elder brother was an excessive worrier. He almost never showed it, but there had been memorable times in the past where anxiety had built up steadily under that calm exterior, only to explode in a most spectacular manner. The four other elves present knew this, and wisely allowed the young Captain of the Guard to indulge his paranoia. His inspection complete, Faelon hovered fretfully at Lord Elrond's elbow. His nervous fingers brushed the sleeve that hid his dagger, as if he expected axe-wielding dwarves to come leaping out of the shrubbery.
The first guests to arrive, however, were the men. Aegnor stood by noiselessly as Elrond courteously greeted his guests. He showed them to their seats, trying not to display too much disdain. "Thank you, Elrohir", the youngest man said absently as he sank into his chair. Aegnor blinked.
The young elf walked up to his brother, who was standing next to Lord Elrond looking typically uptight, and pulled him aside. "Faelon", he whispered, "That man over there called me Elrohir!"
"Then he probably takes me for Elladan", Faelon grinned, and darted a quick look over his shoulder at the figure slouched in the chair. "That is Lord Boromir, brother. He was merely trying to shock you with his knowledge of the House of Elrond, in an attempt to gain Men some leverage here. I suppose we look too young to be prominent members of the household, so he assumed that we were Elrond's sons. Not a bad deduction, merely incorrect."
"Why am I Elrohir, then?" Aegnor asked mildly, tilting an eyebrow.
"Well, he saw me stay at our Lord's side, and Elladan is Elrond's heir. Once again, you have been shunted to the inferior role of younger brother."
Aegnor instantly had twelve different scathing retorts ready on his tongue, but he choked them back. None of them were appropriate in such a place, and more than half would get him thrown out of Imladris. He was distracted from these mutinous thoughts by the entrance of another man, clad in dark green. Estel – or Aragorn, as he was called now – exchanged a brief look with Boromir before approaching Lord Elrond.
"Faelon", Aegnor said sullenly, "I saw that man kiss Lady Arwen on the bridge last night. There is no way that I will sit next to him."
"Do not be ridiculous", his older brother remonstrated. "The last time you spoke with him, he was a mere youth. You have the advantage – he knows nothing of what you have been up to, thankfully. But you know much of him."
"Too much", Aegnor grumbled. He turned to see Mithrandir sweep in with a halfling at his heels, but was struck with a sudden horrifying thought. "Estel does know one thing", said the young elf, eyes round, "He knows my nickname!"
Faelon snorted. "Yes, he and every elf in Imladris!"
"It is mortifying", moaned Aegnor. "If Erestor were not Erestor, I would have –"
His words were stopped short by the entrance of a contingent of fair-haired elves. At their head was Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. Aegnor did not realize that he was glaring until his brother gave a subtle cough. "Remember: remain aloof", Faelon murmured in his ear, and Aegnor hitched a haughty pout onto his features. Legolas locked eyes with him before turning away dismissively, and Aegnor bristled.
The young elf was soon distracted by the appearance of something loud-voiced and foul-looking which turned out to be the dwarves – predictably late for the start of the meeting. Aegnor stepped back to allow them to take their seats, and he could feel his older brother tensing beside him. "The red-bearded one brought in four axes", Faelon growled. "The nerve of that impudent midget!"
"Yes, I know", Aegnor agreed wearily. "We had better sit –" He halted. Legolas was whispering discreetly in Aragorn's ear, and both of them glanced slyly over at him, grinning.
Remain aloof, Aegnor repeated to himself. Aloof… aloof… aloof, damn it! He turned to walk with studied nonchalance over to his chair and sat primly beside Nendir, folding his hands on his lap. Soon Aragorn strolled over and took the other seat next to his. Aegnor successfully fought the urge to pummel the mouth that had besmirched Arwen Undomiel, and resolved to be civil at the very least. Amid the bustle of everybody sorted themselves out, the young elf inclined his head in what he thought was a polite enough manner. "Estel", he greeted stiffly, "It has been a long time, for you at least."
The man gave a slight smile and bowed his head in turn. "Good to see you again, Figwit. Legolas was just telling me about some of the interesting things you've been getting up to in my absence."
Aegnor jerked his head to glower at Legolas, who had a nasty smirk playing over his face. That slimy son of a warg! the young elf thought fiercely. "He has been talking to you about me, has he?" Aegnor remarked with forced calm. "Perhaps your reunion was cut short. He may have left out a few details concerning what he has been doing in Mirkwood."
"That is entirely possible", Estel acknowledged with a wicked smile.
"Well then", said Aegnor, leaning closer to the ranger, "Let me bring you up to date. About forty years ago, word came to Imladris of a certain Prince who was dared by his fellows…"
The Wood-Elf must have guessed what was going on because he did not stop glaring at Aegnor until the meeting was well underway. Even in the midst of Elrond's greeting, the Prince sent a look in his direction, which Estel noticed. Aegnor, however, decided to not even acknowledge Legolas, and his brother gave him an approving smile from his place at Lord Elrond's side. To Aegnor's relief, that hateful blue stare was momentarily redirected when the halfling brought forth the One Ring.
In the stunned silence that followed this revelation, Lord Boromir stepped forward to speak. Aegnor found himself captivated by the young lord's account of his prophetic dream. But that fascination was rudely interrupted when the man started to reach for the Ring.
"Boromir!" Elrond barked as he stood, and Faelon's hand flew to his hidden dagger. But before the Captain could even draw his weapon Mithrandir had jumped to his feet, and the words he uttered distracted every elf from taking action of any sort. Even in the midst of his blinding headache, Aegnor felt a perverse sort of pleasure at witnessing the acute effect that the Black Speech had upon the Prince of Mirkwood. Apparently the Wood-Elf was more sensitive than he liked to pretend.
Once order had been restored, and the panicky look had faded from Faelon's eyes, Aegnor's contempt for Boromir deepened. The young elf watched scornfully as the man tried to convince the Council to give the Ring to Gondor. He would have loved to step in and tell Boromir what a complete fool he was making of himself, but concluded that such behaviour was unseemly for an elf of his standing.
Apparently Estel did not have such scruples. "You cannot wield it – none of us can", he reasoned. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir scoffed, as Aegnor watched the exchange with interest.
"This is no mere ranger!"
Aegnor resisted the urge to groan and bury his face in his hands: it was his opinion that Legolas was overly-fond of theatrics. The dark young elf's pout deepened as the Prince dramatically defended Estel's status as heir to the Gondorian throne. When Estel told Legolas to take a seat, Aegnor mentally applauded him.
The young elf found his attention wandering to his brother Faelon, whose back was ramrod straight, fingers practically twitching in readiness to draw the dagger hidden up one voluminous sleeve. That dagger nearly came out when the foolish dwarf Gimli attempted to destroy the Ring, but Aegnor was too busy ducking flying shards of axe-blade to notice.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess", Lord Elrond declared, suppressing a smile. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came…One of you must do this."
Wonderful, Aegnor thought to himself, And I know just who is itching to leap up and volunteer. He snuck a glance at Legolas, who was looking pensive.
To his surprise, Lord Boromir was the first to speak. Aegnor had to admit that the man had a point – journeying to Mordor did indeed sound like "folly". But that will not deter a certain someone from attempting irrational heroics, thought Aegnor. Rather, it will only encourage him.
Right on cue, Prince Legolas got up yet again. Aegnor wondered idly why the Wood-Elf felt the need to stand every time he uttered a word. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas raged. Aegnor exchanged a significant glance with Faelon, who shared his mocking opinion concerning the Wood-Elf's love for drama. "The Ring must be destroyed", the Prince declared to the entire Council as if everyone, not just Boromir, objected to the plan.
"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" the dwarf Gimli snapped. Right in one! congratulated Aegnor, feeling a little warmer towards the stunted creature than before; he had been yearning to say those very words, but it was not his place. The young elf silently thanked Iluvatar that dwarves had no ethics.
It was Boromir's turn to get to his feet, and with growing concern Aegnor sensed the mounting tension: people were beginning to grow antagonistic, and a limit would be reached soon. The elf was feeling distinctly anxious, when the dwarf got to his feet and bellowed, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!"
That's it – so much for aloofness! Aegnor hesitated for a mere second, and then sprang to his feet. Ignoring Estel's placating arm, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Chief Scribe Nendir, and threw himself into an argument with the Laketown emissary and the merchant from Dale. Nendir and the merchant both spoke at the same time:
"What is wrong with elves?" Nendir demanded, eyes blazing.
"The journey is suicidal anyway!" argued Jarnsmid, the elderly Dale merchant, "The Ring would only fall into Sauron's hands!"
"It cannot stay here!" Nendir countered heatedly.
"Sauron knows of its presence", insisted Aegnor, raising his voice to be heard above the quarrel. "He knows. It will not be safe anywhere, for he will not give up until he finds it!"
"Who will take it, then?" Hugin yelled at him, and Aegnor angrily faced the Laketown emissary. Jarnsmid and Nendir continued to bicker beside them. "You Elves, in all of your wisdom, are afraid of its power – yet you scorn the so-called weakness of Men and the covetousness of Dwarves! Tell me, who among you will take it?"
"I do not know!" Aegnor shouted, gesturing fiercely as he tried to override Hugin's repeated accusations. "I – listen – I do not know who, but someone must! Someone –"
"I will take it!"
"– must take…" Aegnor's voice trailed off in confusion.
"I will take the Ring to Mordor."
The young elf's eyes widened in surprise, and he turned to see who was speaking. The astonishment on his face was mirrored in those of all the men, elves, and dwarves gathered there. The halfling Frodo paused before the sharp scrutiny, before admitting, "Though… I do not know the way."
Aegnor merely stared at the little fellow, contempt warring with admiration.
Mithrandir broke the stunned silence: "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."
Aegnor sensed movement behind him, and turned to see Estel rising from his seat. Like Faelon, he had apparently refrained from joining the argument. The man purposefully strode forward and knelt before the halfling. "If by my life or death I can protect you," he said gently, "I will. You have my sword."
"And you have my bow", declared a voice that set Aegnor's teeth on edge.
"And my axe!" declared the little lump of armour that stood nearby.
Aegnor felt a squirm of pleasure at seeing Legolas' obvious irritation. As Boromir swore his allegiance, the young elf caught Legolas' eye and smiled serenely, receiving a look that would have put a Balrog to shame. People were now starting to return to their seats and Aegnor reclaimed his own, feeling immensely satisfied with the way things were turning out – the Ring was going to Mordor with Mithrandir leading the company, Estel would keep his hands and lips off Lady Arwen, and Legolas would have to put up with a belligerent and well-armed dwarf. Yes, he was feeling very content indeed.
What Aegnor felt next was alarm, when something woolly sprang out of the bushes with a wild yell. Faelon nearly had a heart attack, and had half-drawn his dagger from his sleeve before realizing that the threat was only another halfling. Aegnor watched his brother furtively sheath the weapon before anyone could notice his overreaction, and slipped Faelon an impish wink.
When two more squealing undersized creatures darted by his chair, Aegnor resisted the urge to sigh. This whole thing was turning into such a fiasco already. Several members of the Council seemed to share his scepticism, but the young elf kept a stoic façade as Elrond solemnly declared, "Nine companions… So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." Despite his efforts, he almost lost control when one of the halflings chirped, "Right! Where are we going?"
Aloof, Aegnor repeated to himself sternly, intensifying his pout.
When the meeting had adjourned, Aegnor and Faelon stood by Elrond's chair conversing quietly as they waited for the guests to file out. "You were looking quite cross at the end there", Faelon noted in an undertone. "Were you moping because you wished to go along?"
"Certainly not", huffed the younger elf. "I was merely trying my utmost to keep my composure. 'Where are we going' indeed!" The two brothers laughed quietly.
"Although", said Faelon contemplatively, "I noticed an instance where you did lose your composure."
"Then you would have also noticed that I was the last elf to get to my feet", Aegnor countered, his expression serene. "And I was not the one who nearly stabbed an innocent halfling."
Ignoring that last comment, Faelon persisted, "I remember telling you to stay seated and silent."
"Do you also remember the dwarf's exact words? I could repeat them for you."
By this time the men, dwarves, and Silvan elves had left, huddled in their respective groups and already in the midst of serious discussions concerning the turn of events. The members of the Fellowship stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor. Legolas and Gimli were glaring surreptitiously at one another, and Estel and Boromir were making forced conversation. Only the halflings seemed cheerful.
"Come", Lord Elrond said finally. "We shall discuss our preparations within." He arose from his seat and led the way through the halls of Imladris. Erestor and Nendir followed closely, the Nine Companions strung out behind them, and Aegnor and Faelon bringing up the rear.
The group soon reached Elrond's private library. It was a magnificent room walled with shelves of books and scrolls, which opened onto a sunny veranda. The half-elven directed the Fellowship to take seats around a great oaken table which was littered with maps. "Erestor, Nendir, I would like you both to stay", Lord Elrond requested. "Captain Faelon, could you find Glorfindel and tell him that his presence is needed here? Do not let him send you in his stead. And Aegnor, have refreshments brought to us, if you would."
The two brothers bowed low and left the library.
"Well?" Faelon asked once they were out of earshot. "What do you think of sending this Fellowship?"
"As one of Lord Elrond's attendants, it is not my place to question his decisions", answered Aegnor with quick precision. His older brother rolled his eyes, but said nothing further.
They separated at a crossroad, with Faelon heading for Glorfindel's quarters and Aegnor heading for the kitchens. The younger elf stepped into the familiar steaming bustle, nimbly dodged out of the way of the hurrying cooks, and requested a large plate of refreshments. "Figwit!" Aegnor turned to see his fellow attendant Anarin waving him over to a side table. The brown-haired elf smiled in welcome and offered him a buttered roll, "How was the meeting?"
"Interesting", Aegnor admitted, taking the roll and pouring a cup of cider. "It was not at all the tedious monotony I had assumed it would be. But then, what would you expect with elves, dwarves, and men all in the same place?" He sipped his drink gratefully.
As the cooks prepared a platter of bread, cheese, cake, and fruit, Anarin pressed Aegnor for his entire account of the conference. The two elves took the platter of food and a tray of assorted drinks, and walked up to Elrond's library conversing quietly. They fell silent as they approached the room, from which many different voices were issuing. Although the two elves were high-born, as Elrond's attendants they had learned the art of becoming invisible; hardly a glance was spared to them as they set the food on the table and served drinks. They silently lit the candles, and when Lord Elrond dismissed them with a brief nod they left the library without ever having said a word.
Once they were outside the room, Aegnor glanced at a cushioned chair beside the arched doorway. "I should stay here in case they require anything", he said resignedly, moving to take the seat.
"No, I will!" Anarin enthused, waving off any protest. "I know that you are supposed to attend him today, but you had that Council meeting to sit through. Go on, Figwit." Drawing a book from the pile on a side table, Anarin seated himself in the chair to wait upon his Lord.
Aegnor took a shortcut to his quarters through the gardens, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun, but was halted in his progress by a musical call: "Figwit! A moment, please."
He turned to see Lady Arwen, and bowed deeply, "My Lady?"
The daughter of Lord Elrond smiled at the elf's propriety. "Figwit, I was hoping you would tell me something. I wish to know the Council's decision", she explained. "I was about to ask Legolas, but he was caught up in an argument with one of his companions."
Aegnor fought the urge to fidget: Arwen would not be happy to hear of Estel going on a journey from which he was unlikely to return. "The Council decided to send a small company to Mordor to destroy the weapon of the Enemy", he answered candidly, and watched her carefully for her reaction.
"Oh?" Arwen's eyes widened ever so slightly. "And who makes up this company?" A tiny tremor in her voice told Aegnor that she had guessed the identity of at least one member of the Fellowship. And that she cared deeply for him.
"Mithrandir will lead them", he said, "And the four halflings are going also – Frodo is to bear the Ring. In addition, there is Prince Legolas for the elves, Gimli son of Gloin for the dwarves, and Lord Boromir and Estel for the race of men."
Arwen Undomiel was silent for a long moment, and Aegnor wondered what thoughts were going through her head. Unconsciously, she reached up to touch her breast where the Evenstar would normally have hung. Aegnor checked his frown; he did not approve of her love for Estel, a mere man, but he had the greatest respect for his Lord's only daughter. He waited politely for her to break the silence.
"When are they to leave?" she asked finally, her voice light with feigned unconcern.
"That I do not know", admitted Aegnor. "They are preparing for the journey as we speak." The elf maiden bit her lip, and upon a whim he took her hand comfortingly. "Do not grieve, Lady Arwen", he said, his voice gentle. "Such an undertaking as this cannot be arranged in a matter of days. There will be plenty of time to say goodbye."
The elf-maiden's distracted gaze sharpened, and she raised her chin. "They will return", Arwen declared firmly. "It will not be goodbye."
The two young elves locked eyes in challenge, neither willing to concede to the other. Finally, Aegnor lowered his gaze. He lifted her hand to leave a soft kiss on her fingers, and turned away. "Goodnight, my Lady", he murmured. As he started to walk to his quarters, the elf heard Arwen's voice carry faintly on the breeze: "Goodnight, Figwit."
End.
A/N: Before you ask, Figwit does NOT have a crush on Arwen! Just thought I'd clear that up. I'm thinking of writing a few of these stories that focus on the staff of Imladris – the elves "behind the scenes" so to speak – drawing upon faces that we glimpse in the movies.
Oh, and please leave a review! – Rain