Prologue
"Gandalf," Elrond Half-Elven, Lord of Rivendell, said, "the Ring cannot stay here."
Gandalf the Grey, an old friend of Elrond's, turned to the balcony and gazed out towards the courtyard. He watched as elves, men, and dwarves all entered Rivendell, most gazing around in wonder at its beauty. Disappointment crossed his aged face as he failed to spot the one being he was most anxious to see.
Elrond was still speaking, "…Who will you look to when we've gone? The Dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others."
Finally managing to keep his disappointment from showing, Gandalf turned to face the raven-haired, ageless lord of elves. "It is in Men that we must place our hope," he answered firmly.
"Men?" Elrond stated in partial disgust. "Men are weak. The race of men is failing. The blood of Númenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives. I was there, Gandalf: I was there three thousand years ago…" He recounted the defeat of the Dark Lord Sauron to the elderly wizard. "I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom, where the Ring was forged, the one place it could be destroyed. It should've ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure."
As Elrond turned to look at the wizard, his eyes seemed to reveal his true age as he finished, "Isildur kept the Ring. The line of kings is broken. There is no strength left in the world of men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."
Gandalf answered him boldly, "There is one who could unite them, one who could reclaim the throne of Gondor."
Elrond spoke bitterly, "He turned from that path long time ago. He has chosen exile."
There was a mere five minutes of silence before a shout rang out.
"Taggurung approaching!"
Relief mingled with slight worry swept through Gandalf. She was here at last!