I've had this in mind for YEARS. Please bear with me as I update, I have a one year old daughter and livestock to care for. But I have a passion for all things Tolkien and want to see this done.
As many authors are want to do, I have fiddled a bit with timelines and taken a few artistic liberties with dialogue. Nothing that should make any huge differences in the overall plot of the original works, but enough that some readers may take pause.
That said, while I adore the books with every fiber of my being, this fic will more closely follow the movies. The movies simply allow more freedom for character insertion and alterations, as well as being easier to follow for most folks.
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or plotlines created by Tolkien, or depicted by Peter Jackson on screen. I only own any OCs within the story and any non canon events depicted in this story.
Torwen was visiting her uncle and cousins in Imladris when the council was called. Messengers were sent with haste to all great kingdoms of Middle Earth.
She had been sparring with her cousins, Elladan and Elrohir, in the training grounds when Glorfindel galloped into the courtyard atop Asfalof. As she and the twins turned at the commotion, Torwen was startled to see a hobbit slumped in front of him.
The elleth shared a startled glance with her cousins when the Balrog Slayer called for healers. All three of them quickly made their way down the stone stairs from the training ground to the paved courtyard, Elrohir taking the great white horse's reigns as he danced in place, allowing Glorfindel to hand the the dark haired hobbit down to Elladan before dismounting the horse himself.
Elladan immediately took off for the houses of healing while his brother led Asfalof away to the stables. Torwen strode alongside Glorfindel, noting that he looked quite ruffled.
"Glorfindel? What has happened?" Torwen demanded, shaken by the sickly grey pallor to the hobbit's skin.
"He was struck by a morgul blade. Where is your uncle?"
"Surely he is in his study."
"Go and fetch him for me, little one." The blonde elf requested urgently, a slight brush of his hand against her arm the only encouragement necessary.
Torwen had run then hitching up her skirts in great fistfuls in front of her, her footsteps nearly silent through the open air halls of the Homely House. Her uncle had looked surprised indeed to see the look of fright on her usually jovial face.
"Torwen?" Elrond began, rising from his seat behind his desk.
The elleth cut him off before he could ask more.
"Come uncle. Glorfindel has just returned with a halfling. He was struck with a morgul blade. I fear the worst for him."
Elrond was around his desk and towards the door in an instant. Turning back to his niece before crossing the threshold to request she gather his healing herbs and tonics before hurrying to the healing rooms.
After many hours of determined and exhausting work by Lord Elrond, his sons, and niece, it was determined that the hobbit, who Torwen now knew was old Bilbo Baggins nephew Frodo, would survive.
Frodo had carried the One Ring at the request of Gandalf, who had arrived in the valley just before the four elves had concluded their healing work over the young hobbit. When the wizard asked after Frodo's companions, Glorfindel had confirmed that three more of the small folk traveled now towards Rivendell with the ranger, Aragorn.
"The ring cannot stay here, Gandalf." Lord Elrond argued imperiously, causing the wizened man before him to sigh dejectedly.
They had retired to Lord Elrond's study after a final examination of the young hobbit, the three younger elves taking weary respite on the cushioned chairs near the open windows, basking in the warm sunlight that bathed the room.
"Call for council, let the free peoples of Middle Earth decide it's fate." Gandalf suggested, leaning slightly upon his staff.
Her uncle studied the wizard for a moment, considering the situation. Finally he nodded curtly before turning to his sons, delegating the responsibility of sending missives to them.
"Torwen, please oversee preparations in the guest wing. We will expect representatives within a fortnight."
And so it was that the One Ring had come to reside in the peaceful vale of Imladris. As the fastest messengers were sent to the far reaches of Middle Earth, the darkness of the artifact weighed heavily on the hearts of the fair folk residing within the halls of the Homely House.
