There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words.
"Morithawen! Don't just stand there. The counsel starts in ten minutes. You'll be late and you know how important this is. Asca, mellon-nin (Hurry, my friend)."
Mori blinked and looked around her. She was standing on her balcony in a pale green silk dress, looking out over Imladris. She had only been home from Lorien for a week and she often found herself lost in thought on her balcony. She turned and looked back through the beautifully carved, columned open walls into her bedroom and for once she wished for a place to hide. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she only wanted to find her horse and flee from Rivendell until the counsel was over.
"Mori? Lle tyava quel (Do you feel well)?" asked a voice at her shoulder. Mori turned her head to look at Luthawen. The girl beside her was her complete polar opposite in appearance. Luthawen resembled the other elves of Rivendell with her long and flowing hair, dark waves falling around her shoulders. She wore an intricate silver circlet to hold it back from her lovely face. Her eyes were like twilight over the forest in late evening, dark and glittering with stars. Mori herself was golden fair of skin, her hair like a golden sunset mingled with gold and deep burnt umber, held back with multiple herringbone braids. Her eyes were light amber and often melted into liquid gold or hardened to burnt caramel depending on her mood. They were dark now, full of distress.
"I will be fine. Just let us be done with this day," she said with a heavy sigh. Luthawen looked torn.
"If you are certain, mellon (friend). Now, you must hurry. Put on your shoes, Mori. I know how fond you are of walking the halls in your bare feet but this is a formal counsel. You dare not annoy Lord Elrond. Even you, his foster daughter, can cross certain lines. Now, come," she said, taking Mori gently by the elbow and drawing her into the room. Mori sat silently as Luthawen slipped her feet into soft shoes. Her eyes were drawn towards the balcony again.
"He is here, then?" Luthawen asked quietly. Mori nodded. Only Luthawen knew the full extent of her distress. Only her dearest friend knew what caused Mori such grief that she endangered her own well being simply by being in Imladris with him.
"He came only moments ago," she whispered painfully.
"I know it pains you to see him, knowing he loves another. But you cannot blame him. You never told him the depth of your love and now you are too stubborn to confess. Perhaps the grief is still to near. Should I send a message to your father? You are obviously not well," Luthawen said gently. Mori sighed softly.
"Uuma dela (Don't worry), Luthawen. I will be fine. Really. I only have to make it through the counsel and then I will be able to put it behind me for good. It is merely an infatuation, Luthawen. I will not lose myself in grief. Now, I must get to the counsel chamber," she said, standing. Luthawen put a hand on her arm and looked at her hard for a moment.
"Lle vesta (Do you promise)?" she finally asked.
"Yes, I promise. I'm fine. Diola lle, mellon-nin (Thank you, my friend)," she said softly. Then she grabbed her satchel and hurried out of her bedchamber, moving nimbly through the corridors.
Mori stood just behind Elrond's chair, uncertain of her place in the circle of chairs. Not everyone had been seated yet and she hadn't been noticed beyond a nod of the head by anyone present yet. She was glad of that. She was able to simply observe for now. That was job really. She was a Chronicler after all. It was her job to notice things and keep minutes of everything that happened at these meetings. She noticed many different races and knew her fingers would be stained with ink today from hastily jotted notes. She fingered the leather strap of her satchel and listened to the mingled buzz of voices until a familiar presence at her side made her turn with a smile.
"Vedui' muinthel (Greetings, sister)," Aragorn said with a grin, his dark hair for once smooth and falling just so about his broad shoulders. Mori was used to seeing him come from some jaunt between here and Mirkwood. The ranger was more often dirty and worn when she saw him. She often caught him before he had a chance to clean up and rest, though, because she was desperate to get any tales he might have to tell down in her volumes. She gave him a bright smile.
"Vedui' muindor," she said, greeting him likewise. They were both fosterlings in Elrond's home, even if Mori was nearly five hundred years older than Aragorn. She had spent a great deal of time with the man during his growing years and they loved each other dearly, not to mention a great deal of mutual respect. Her foster sibling kissed her cheek and then escorted her to a seat beside his own. She was relieved, settling quietly. She opened her satchel and pulled out her lap desk and her ink and pens, balancing the inkwell on the right arm of her chair. Once settled, she let her eyes scan the rest of the chairs and against her will, she zeroed in on the Mirkwood party across the dais. When her eyes met those of Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, her heart literally stopped beating for a moment and she felt faint. The fair skinned, blond elf was looking at her with eyes the color of the ocean at midnight, dark and mysterious. She couldn't read any expression in those eyes but the smile that crossed his face briefly was almost tender. He lifted a hand a few inches from his knee in greeting.
Morithawen forced herself to breathe, raising her own hand in a brief greeting. She berated herself when her smile wavered. Legolas didn't know she thought of him as more than a mentor and a friend. She could not ever tell him now that he had found a mate. She knew Legolas very well and he would never take a lover unless his love for her was true. None had mentioned the name of this lover, for it was said that he was keeping her identity a closely guarded secret. Mori would prefer not to know. She would suffer in silence and pray that she had not lied to Luthawen when she had said that the grief would not kill her.
Lord Elrond finally called the counsel to order. Everyone was identified and soon Mori was too busy listening and scribbling in her special form of shorthand to worry about the state of her heart. She was glad of the distraction. She did not allow herself to dwell on what was being said; only allowing the facts to flow from her hand onto the parchment. She was not drawn out of her recording haze until a man from Gondor, Boromir, stood up and began to speak of a dream. She knew she would not forget the words he had uttered so she looked up and watched him reach for the ring in the center of the counsel chamber.
Only then did it sink in what her foster father had said. This was the One Ring. She was well versed in history. As a Chronicler she was privy to records that none else had seen in thousands of years. She had once spent twenty years doing little more than read in the records' rooms of Imladris. She had journeyed to Minas Tirith on two separate occasions as well, digging in the records deep in the dusty halls of the palace. She couldn't spend as much time there because she longed for the sun, but she had learned a few things about the One Ring, including Isildur's possession of and obsession with the One Ring. Isildur's Bane indeed, for she knew that it had betrayed him to his death.
She could feel the tug of the Ring's power like a physical thing, a tendril of evil that wormed it's way into the senses and pulled with all it's might. It was easy enough for her to fight, but it worried her that she even felt the pull of the One Ring. When Gandalf stood and began chanting in the language of Mordor, she felt the Ring's power swell and push out in all directions like a dark blanket. She dropped her pen and clutched the arm of her chair.
"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris," Elrond said once Gandalf had finished chanting and the world turned golden again.
"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 altogether Evil," Gandalf said. Mori reached down with trembling fingers to pick up her pen, agreeing wholeheartedly with Gandalf but understanding her father's annoyance. She did her best to still her hands from shaking. An elf's hands did not shake, especially those of a Chronicler. As she concentrated on stilling her nerves, Boromir stood up again.
"It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him."
"You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master," said Aragorn from the seat beside her. Mori had finally calmed enough to begin writing again, trying to get things down as best she could. Her memory was always infallible, but as unsettled as she was she didn't want to count on it.
"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir asked with a sneer. Mori's head came up and she felt anger stir in her heart. She was about to set the man straight when Legolas stood up, his countenance no longer as neutral as it had been. Now she could read annoyance on his face.
"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance," he said to Boromir, his tone obviously angry. Morithawen was troubled by this. Legolas was always one to control his emotions. Only those close to him ever saw him lose his temper and even then it was a quiet thing. Perhaps the ring was affecting him. She was glad he had spoken nonetheless. This man of Gondor needed to learn a thing or two.
"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked incredulously.
"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas said firmly, his eyes dark with conflicting emotions. Mori felt more than heard Aragorn sigh.
"Havo dad (sit down), Legolas," he said quietly. Morithawen watched as Legolas reluctantly sat down. Mori almost smiled. Her foster brother was very proud. He would not appreciate having Legolas champion his cause. Especially a cause he did not plan to pursue unless forced to.
"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king," Boromir said firmly, sitting down again in frustration. He seemed unable to look away from Aragorn, however. Morithawen could read him well enough. Despite his words, he was awed and a little afraid of her foster brother.
"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it," Gandalf confirmed.
"You have only one choice. The Ring was must be destroyed," Elrond said. The entire counsel was quiet for a moment before one of the dwarves stood up, hefting his axe.
"What are we waiting for?" he asked in a gruff voice, approaching the center of the dais and lifting his axe. It came down on the ring and the axe shattered into several pieces, the force of the recoil sending the dwarf sprawling on the ground at his company's feet. Mori heard a soft whisper of sound, a subtle chanting on the wind and she feared it was the Ring, which was still in the middle of the dais, completely unscathed by the blow from the dwarf's axe.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. 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," Elrond said after a moment, looking around the chamber slowly. There was silence again for a moment and then arguments broke out all over the counsel chamber. The dwarves arguing with the elves, the elves arguing with the men and even Gandalf moving into the fray. She couldn't record all the arguments so she raised an eyebrow at her father and he just shook his head in disgust.
She turned her head back to the Ring. Morithawen could barely hear the whisper of the Ring over the din, but she did. She stared hard at it and could almost swear she saw flames licking along the band. She shuddered.
"I will take it," came a soft voice from the other side of the chamber. Morithawen's head came up in surprise. The hobbit, Frodo, was standing now, a determined expression on his face. Mori had met him at breakfast. He was a nice young hobbit, actually able to converse in Sindarin with her for a while. She had asked him numerous questions about his home. He seemed so proud of the Shire and seemed anxious to get back. Morithawen sighed inwardly. He was brave; she would give him that. Smart, too, she would wager after their conversation. He knew how important this task was and he was willing to take it upon himself without thought of himself. It was doubtful that he would return from his quest, even if he was successful.
Morithawen was both impressed and saddened that this hobbit was the only one to volunteer without bickering or worry. He had to repeat himself twice to be heard but soon the arguing stopped and Morithawen couldn't hear the whispering of the Ring anymore. She relaxed a little and made a few notations on her parchment.
"I will take it…only I do not know the way," Frodo was saying. When her foster brother stood up to offer his loyalty and his sword to the quest, Mori was not terribly surprised. She knew Aragorn cared for this young hobbit and his friends a great deal. He was perhaps the only one at the counsel that could lead such a terrible quest.
"And you have my bow," Legolas said, stepping forward. Morithawen's mind went numb as her beloved offered himself for this quest. In that moment she had a flash of foresight. She saw herself fire an arrow from her bow into the back of an orc, felling him before he could slash Legolas from behind. Then she fired another, and then again. She defended Legolas' back as he fought a half dozen orcs in front of him with his white knives and his bow. The dark, dusty stone around them led her to believe it was a cavern. A tomb, actually, since there was a broken stone coffin to her right. The vision faded slowly from her mind and she found herself staring at a group of nine people. She heard Elrond title them the Fellowship of the Ring. She decided not to mention her foresight just yet. She would speak with her father about it after the counsel.
"What troubles you, Morithawen?" Elrond asked when she asked him to speak with her privately. She told him of her foresight in detail. He frowned in displeasure.
"The Fellowship is already set, Morithawen. Legolas can take care of himself. Not to mention he will have Aragorn and the others to defend his back. You do not need to trouble yourself with this quest," he said firmly. Morithawen sighed.
"I cannot ignore my feelings on this matter, Ada (father). Foresight is my gift and it has never shown me something unimportant. If I do not go, Legolas will die. I will not let that happen if I can prevent it. Without him, I fear the quest will fail. Besides, this quest should be chronicled. Better first hand than by the stories told when the Fellowship returns. If it returns," she said quietly. Elrond gazed at her for the longest time.
"You love him, don't you? Your spirit has faded since you returned from your journey to Lorien. Is it the news of his beloved?" he asked softly, changing the subject. The genuine concern in his eyes, however, was her undoing and she began to tremble.
"It is unimportant," she said unconvincingly. Elrond took her shoulders in his hands and shook his head.
"You are the last of the Amrun'quessir (Sunrise Elves) on Middle Earth, Morithawen. Your fate is very important, as is your love. Speak to him, sellamin (my daughter), before your spirit fades away."
"It will make no difference, but if you wish it, I will. But it does not change the fact that I must go on this quest. Are not two elves better than one?" she asked, steering the subject back to the original matter. Elrond sighed again.
"Will you stay if I ask it?"
"No, Ada, I will not. I cannot," she said apologetically. Elrond was quiet for a long moment before he replied.
"The dwarf will not be happy," Elrond said with a wry smile. Mori laughed a bit and threw her arms around the older elf.
"I do not care about the dwarf's happiness, Ada. I can say that I am only traveling with them as far as Lothlorien. I must take a copy of the counsel minutes to Lord Celeborn as it is. I will merely be tagging along in my official capacity as Kiirar (Chronicler)."
"Their journey should not take them to Lorien, Morithawen," Elrond said softly. Morithawen looked sharply at Elrond and then nodded her head.
"They will find themselves in Lorien before the journey's end," she said after a moment. Elrond looked at her sharply.
"Foresight?"
"Just a knowing," she said quietly. Elrond knew better than to question her. Morithawen was gifted with foresight and knowing quite often and never had anything she had seen or known not come true.
"Keep that to yourself, Mori, unless led to do otherwise," he said softly. She nodded and then pulled away from Elrond.
"I will keep my own counsel unless it will help the Fellowship on its way," she said. Elrond nodded and touched her face.
"Now, go. Find Legolas and speak with him," he said quietly. She felt her heart grow even heavier in her chest and she turned with a sigh. She knew if she did not speak with Legolas, Elrond would. Best to do it herself.
To be continued...