The Rune
By SessouFelidae
Middle Earth © J.R.R. Tolkien
Time Quintet © Madeline L'Engle
"At Tara in this fateful hour,
I place all Heaven with its power,
And the sun with its brightness,
And the snow with its whiteness,
And the fire with all the strength it hath,
And the lightning with its rapid wrath,
And the wind with its swiftness along its path,
And the sea with its deepness,
And the rocks with their steepness,
And the Earth with its starkness
All these I place
By God's almighty help and grace
Between myself and the powers of darkness."
-St. Patrick's Rune Adapted by Madeleine L'Engle-
Prologue: In this fateful hour…
The sky darkened in anticipation of the dark forces arrival. The mishmash of races arrayed against shifted uneasily under the strife between themselves and the tension of the oncoming enemy. The three armies stood at a standstill as the argument of gold and recompense came between them, even as Gandalf the Gray exercised his influence to focus the intent of the meeting back to the defense of the north and the survival of the free peoples therein still.
The Dwarves arrived in both answer to their kin and the promise of wealth. The Elves came to recover their recompense. And finally the men of Esgaroth. The lake town survivors simply caught in the middle and trying to survive. Victims of the first two race's grievances and innocent of all wrongs in this regard and yet drawn into this conflict still.
The lone hobbit of the gathering paused, taking each of the leaders assembled there. Seemingly as if they all sensed his gaze the talk quieted and they all looked to him in question. Bilbo swallowed before coming to his decision. He was his own master who had neither king nor lord. And because he swore no oaths to no kings, he was free to choose. But why did it seem so heavy?
"To the truest of all races here gathered and to the purpose and benefit of all I will choose." Bilbo paused looking over each races, fair, ruddy, first born, adopted, and last alike before his once open, cheerful features somberly weighing the gathered beings before turning towards the least of them. His voice firm and regal, both young and old, and very much out of place on such a small peaceful creature. "I will stand with the men."
The somber bowman bowed to the smallest of the company and the most puzzling of them all. However the smallest of those gathered seemed to grow inexorably as he took his place beside the dragon slayer.
"I will stand with Bard." With a small nod to Gandalf and the Bowman he exited.
Bilbo then left the tent, making his way towards the mannish camps, ever faithful Ananda trailing on his heels. Stares followed after the small hobbit. Come morning, if it ever came, he needed to be ready.
Shadows dogged his steps and in his ears the wind whispered, "In this fateful hour…"
To Be Continued…
A/N: Let's experiment shall we?
This is something...new.
-The Honorable Cat-
4/14/2015