This is a rewrite from a story that I once published here but wasn't content with. I will do my best to get the lore straight, but forgive my ignorance. Expect a mix of book and movie lore. By the way, English isn't my mother language, so forgive any grammatical errors. I am doing my best, but can't do more than that.
Everything in an other language (Elvish mostly) will be probably "Cursive" and mentioned what type of language it is (you will see what I mean) because I HATE looking those stuff up and just don't get it really unless you guys can give me some decent website.
Anyway's, I hope you like it.
'Home is behind
The world ahead,
There are many paths to tread.
Through shadow
To the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight.
Mist and shadow,
Cloud and shade,
All shall fade.
All shall fade' – Billy Boyd
Chapter 01: The Tenth Member
Far to the east of Middle-Earth there was a hole. Not a murky, filthy hole, no. This was a hobbit hole and that meant hospitality and good food! But we are not going to talk about a hole in the luscious land of the Shire, since that time has passed. We are going to take a look at a certain woman, whose feet carried her south from the frozen wastelands of Forodwaith high up in the north and beyond the icy Mountains of Angmar.
The woman was dressed in light armour, the type that you expected a ranger to wear. It was made out of tight, thick and dark leather. Complete with braziers, fingerless gloves and a thick dark mantel with a hood hiding her face from prying eyes and where often whispers of hair escaped from underneath. The only visible sign that she came from the high north were that several pieces of her attire were lined with a greyish fur, identical to that of a mighty dire wolf that dwelled in that harsh, unforgiving environment.
Her stride, as she walked under the golden trees of Rivendell, was strong and confident. Like she feared no man or beast. The two curved short-swords, strapped on her back, held the faint traces of use and was still stained with unwashed blood. It emphasized the point that looks could be deceiving.
She walked onto the small bridge that carried her above a small, rapidly flowing stream. Elven guards slightly tensed up as she walked by, paying no heed to the golden coloured sky and gorgeous Elven architecture. Suspicious glances were thrown at her back and unvoiced questions hung in the air when she let her feet carry her up to the staircases. Guided by a strong sense of hearing.
"Miss, you are not allowed to enter. Lord Elrond is in a meeting," suddenly an obnoxious elf spoke as he appeared out of nowhere and hindered her way forward.
His chocolate coloured eyes reminded the woman that of a deer; big and innocent, but yet alert and aware of every breath she took and every tiny movement her body made. Slowly, she straightened her back and glanced at him from underneath the brim of her hood. A sharp, ominous gust of wind played with the leaves of the golden trees and her mantle when her lips twirled in a small smirk that made the legs of the Elf shake.
"Your name Lindir, isn't it? The lackey of Elrond.." her voice chuckled softly in Elvish, an accent curling around every word. "I know that the Lord is in a meeting; for I am supposed to attend it. Now, I am sure you have other duties than to stop me from attending the meeting to which I am already late. Good day."
The woman had simply nodded at the Elf, whose arguments of not letting her in disappeared like a vaporizing cloud in front of the sun. He swallowed thickly and stepped aside, allowing walk pass him and continue the way up. His eyes trailed the mysterious lady as he swallowed down the nauseous sensation that was coiling in his stomach, the image of an ice coloured pair of eyes burning holes in his very mind.
Lindir collapsed against a pillar when she reached the end of the staircase and disappeared out of view. He let out the shaky breath he wasn't aware that he was holding. The ominous and dark winds that had been playing with the trees slowly disappeared and the birds once again fluttered around and about like nothing had happened.
The chocolate eyes of the Elf shot up to the top of the staircase that bore no trace of the woman anymore and will never again.
Ahead at the other side of Rivendell, Elrond's council and meeting had already begun. The grand elf had stood up and glanced around the circle of many races and alliances. His voice was firm and strong as he spoke; filled with authority and wisdom.
"Strangers of distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." The eyes of the tall Lord of Imladris, the Last Homely House glanced over each face that joined their full circle. The Humans and Dwarves almost looked out of place between all these Elves with the afternoon sun shining on their backs.
"We stand at the brink of war. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate- this one doom," Elrond's boomed at the circle that held many cultures, beliefs and opinions. His eyes settled on the smallest member ; a dark- curly haired hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggings. The Hobbit who inherited the ring from his uncle Bilbo and the one that was doomed to be burdened with it.
The words, "Bring forth the ring, Frodo," caused the Hobbit startle and swallow thickly. His blue eyes gazed around the whispering members of the council, some young and entranced, but most of them old, grey and filled with scepticism as he hesitantly walked towards the stone altar with the ring heavy in the pocket of his vest.
He felt a longing rising up from the depths of his heart the moment his fingers reached into his pocket and touched the cool metal of the simple object that was the source of so much evil and so much misery throughout the ages. His eyes couldn't tear away from it when he outstretched is hand and laid the golden Ring of Power on the stone altar. Frodo let out a shaky breath when he finally sat back down in his chair, earning a look of approval from his friend, the wizard Gandalf, who was seated next to him.
For a moment it was silent as every being examined the simple piece of jewellery lying there on the stone altar in the middle. A simple mind would curse everyone as insane and idiotic for thinking that a simple golden ring was the driving force of great evil in this world, alas it was true. Even Frodo still couldn't fathom it and he experienced first-hand of how dangerous this ring was when he was chased by the Ring wraiths. Despite this simple golden object; everyone felt the dark power it radiated and gently pulled at the strings of their minds.
"So it is true," a deep whisper cut through the silence of the council.
It originated from a man whose hair was ginger and sported a short, rough beard. The man took a deep breath and stood up after scratching his rough chin with a brown gloved hand, pulling the attention from the ring towards him. He was tall and proud. Wore chainmail, with a dark red cuirass on top of it that was decorated with small stars made out of gold-like threat. Over that he wore a thick dark blue, leather vest and a strong belt –that held his sword- around his waist. His physique was strong, even handsome in some eyes, and showed off his Númenórean ancestry. It was the physique of a wealthy warrior who was well fed and well equipped for battle and respected throughout his country of Gondor and by the neighbouring realm of Rohan.
"In a dream," he croaked with a deep, but soft voice as his eyes glanced around the council whilst his feet slowly carried him to the alter. "I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the west pale light lingered." The man scratched his brow and felt his eyes pull back at the Ring lying there on the table, waiting for his fingers to enclose around it..
"A voice was crying; your doom is near at hand," the ginger haired man mumbled to himself as his grey eyes were fixated on the stone altar. "Isildur's bane is found," he whispered.
For a short moment Elrond and Gandalf traded stern glances. Slowly the man stretched out his arm and hand as dark, seducing voices whispered in the Man's ears. His eyes widened as words "Isildur's bane," rolled over his thin lips like an enchantment.
Elrond flung up from his seat and barked "Boromir!" but at the same time Gandalf followed his example. Instead of keeping Boromir from touching the One Ring, a dark language spilled out of the wizard's mouth that caused the sky to rumble and darken, the elves hold their pointed ears in disgust and agony -because the Language of Mordor was foul to their sense of hearing- and the rest of the council members to look up frightened and wonder what was heck was going on.
"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!" The wizard had chanted and for a moment Frodo could see the Elven inscriptions of the Ring light up in the same fire he had seen in Bag End when Gandalf had tossed it in the fire place. Boromir had instantly backed away when the wizard advanced at him and slowly sat down back at his chair.
When the foul words stop spilling out of Gandalf's mouth the sky instantly cleared, the rumbling stopped and the flaming inscriptions of the Ring seized to be. Elrond shot the Mithrandir a venomous glance.
"Never before has any voice said the words of that tongue here in Imladris."
Drained of energy the wizard spoke again, but now in his deep and kind voice that Frodo remembered. "I do not ask your pardon, master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West. The Ring is all together; evil."
"It's a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor-!" Boromir spoke once again and stood up from his seat. But before he could continue his speech the sound of hands colliding against each other silenced any thought and voice. A soft feminine chuckled pulled the attention to a hooded figure that had entered the circle.
The Elves shared suspicious glances and whispered with each other as their hands slowly slid to their sheathed weapons for they had not heard this stranger approaching them, which was highly unusual for Elves. The cloaked figure was definitely a human female, judging by the proportions, and seemed to radiate confidence. Elrond's sharp eyebrows rose all together, causing his forehead to wrinkle.
"The Ring is not a gift, Boromir son of Denethor, Steward-prince of Gondor. It is a tool of destruction and will always be that way. It cannot be turned into something else, no matter how much you wish it to be."
The voice that echoed from beneath the hood of the woman was soft and pleasant, but different that the voices of Elves. The words that rolled over her lips seemed to seep into Frodo's mind like she was whispering in his very own ears as clear as glass, but her attention was fixated on ginger-haired Boromir and not on the Hobbit.
"And who are you, my lady, to possess such knowledge?" The man asked in a rather forceful tone.
"This is Maeve, daughter of the north and here to aid us. She is also a friend with considerable knowledge, and- "
"- Inexplicably late. Why is that?" Elrond finished Gandalf's sentence. An eyebrow curved upwards in a questioning manner.
The woman pulled back the hood of her mantle, revealing her being and shook her hair out of her face. It was a deep, intense black and held a soft blue hue in the faint light of the evening sun. The thick tresses were pulled together in a singular braid except for some whispers of hair that failed to be tamed and her fringe that hid her forehead and ended just above the brow.
"I am sorry Lord Elrond, but I was delayed. The Crebain were flying around and about in search for the Ring. I dared not to move faster in order to prevent detection. Forgive me," She bowed at the lord of Imladris.
Her skin was pale, smudged and dirty from the long track and was overall smooth except for a distinctive claw mark on the left side of her face that showed a little feistiness on her part. With ice-coloured eyes she glanced around the circle of Men, Elves and Dwarfs, a smile curving up the woman's thin lips.
"I see. You are forgiven, take a seat."
With a nod, Maeve turned on her heels and walked to the empty seat next to Gandalf with the calculated muscle coordination of a trained warrior. She promptly sat down and crossed one leg over the other with her swords laying at her feet. Always within reach of her quick hands.
"The lady speaks truthful. Gondor can't wield it, none of us can. The Ring answers only to Sauron and has no other master," a man spoke, different than Boromir. It appeared that he was one of the wilds; judging by his slightly matted dark brown hair, and overall rugged appearance (despite the fact that he had bathed and dressed properly for the meeting) . A true wanderer at heart with a lot of wisdom hiding behind watchful grey eyes.
The man of Gondor pulled up his nose when the other spoke with a soft and clear voice that held a natural authority. "And what.. would a ranger know of this matter?" He asked again in a forceful and accusing matter.
"This is no mere ranger," A young elf called and stood up with a defying posture. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
A pause.
"Aragorn? This.. is Isildur's heir?"
"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas added. This made a few people whisper to each other feverishly, shooting the ranger suspicious glances in the meantime who clenched his jaw displeased at this sudden discovery of his heritage.
"Sit down, Legolas," he muttered to the prince of Mirkwood in Elvish, who stood for a few seconds longer after complying to the words of his good friend.
Boromir scoffed, his voice strained as he spoke and sitting down either. "Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."
The meeting continued almost undisturbed aside from the both curious and suspicious glances that were thrown in the visitor's direction. It was evident that the Ring was truly the One Ring when Gimli, son of Gloin, broken his axe in an attempt to destroy it in an impulsive move. Elrond explained that it had to be casted in Mount Doom, where it was forged, in order to destroy it. A suicide run, but a run that had to be made or everything was lost.
A little overdramatic, but true.
Elves jumped up, Dwarves roared and Men waved their arms frantically whilst everyone screamed bloody murder. Chaos filled the council room and the One Ring seemed to revel in it. Gandalf strayed away from his seat and tried to calm people down as Maeve remained seated, watching how emotions erupted like a volcano over a single inanimate object.
Curiously she glanced in the direction of Frodo; who was fixated on the Ring on the altar. A hand on his forehead and breathing in sharply through his nostrils. He felt it calling out, longing to be held by someone, anyone. Finally, the Hobbit could take no more and stood up -unable to control himself- and cried out.
"I will take it!" His shrill voice had called and somehow reached into the ears of those who screamed murder at each other.
"I will take the Ring!"
There was silence when the eyes of old, withered men, battle-hardened dwarves and wise elves downed upon the little Hobbit from the Shire. Frodo swallowed a couple of times at this kind of intense and unwanted attention before his eyes focused on his hairy feet almost shameful of his outburst.
"Though I do not know the way.."
Gandalf let out some of his withheld breath and walked towards the little Hobbit. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggings. As long as it is yours to bear," he said as he laid his large hands on Frodo's shoulders and squeezed softly but reassuringly.
Immediately, Aragorn was by Gandalf's side. His physique was almost lean compared to the large Boromir, but Maeve could spot that he enjoyed years of training in expert marksmanship and melee by how the man moved and kneeled down in front of the little Hobbit.
"If by my life or death, I can protect you. I will." The voice of the man was slightly hoarse, deep, but firm. "You have my sword." He had whispered before standing up and behind Frodo with a hand on the Hobbit's tiny shoulders.
Legolas, the Elf with majestic blue eyes, emerged amidst the members of the council. "And you have my bow," he spoke with a voice similar to the ringing of bells.
The Dwarf Gimli who had his axe broken on the Ring also jumped up. His fiery red beard furrowed as he nodded fiercely at the Hobbit and grabbed another axe. "And my axe!" This earned a disapproving glance from Legolas. Awkwardly the two stood together next to the wizard's side, who winked approvingly –and a bit amused- to a seemingly surprised Elrond, when Boromir, son of Denethor hesitantly walked towards them and fixated on the Hobbit after sparing you a quick, uncomfortable glance.
"You carry the fate of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council," he said with a slight hint of disapproval, "then Gondor will see it done."
Suddenly out of the blue, and to the surprise of everyone, three Hobbits emerged with the argument that would not leave their friend behind on a mad quest without their help and 'wisdom'. According to the Hobbit named Pippin that is. Elrond took in a deep breath and his nostrils slightly flared in approval.
"Nine companions.. I would say that this is sufficient, but you will need an expert with you to avoid the numerous hidden allies of Sauron. Maeve," Elrond said and the visitor stood up at the utter of her name, "can aid you with that."
"Indeed I can," she affirmed and kneeled down in front of Frodo who felt the content feeling of companionship and trust seep into his very heart. "My swords, skills and my knowledge are at your disposal Mr. Frodo Baggins. Together, we will succeed."
Like it?
Review please!
