As the path into Rivendell became steeper and narrower, Eowyn dismounted Windfola and led him along the trail. She could now see the waterfalls, and the flow of water seemed almost mesmerizing. She passed by a few Elves here and there, none of whom seemed to take special notice of her, and wondered if they were used to receiving visitors.
Soon the path intersected with another, and she saw a beautiful female Elf with long dark brown hair leading a magnificent white horse on the other trail. Eowyn paused to admire the creature (the horse, not the elf). The elf must have sensed her gaze, for she turned and smiled.
"He is a beautiful horse," said Eowyn. "Yours?"
The female elf laughed. "Oh, no! Asfaloth is a great war horse, and he was ridden by Glorfindel, a mighty Elven lord. My own mount is much more plain. I'm just taking Asfaloth back to the stable. He has had quite an adventure these past few days."
Eowyn was about to inquire of these adventures, but then, realizing she had not introduced herself, instead spoke briefly of her background and her journey from Rohan to see Lord Elrond. "Where would I find him?"
"Ah, my father. You are not the first visitor from a distant land who has come to see him."
"Your father?!"
"Yes. Forgive me, for I have not introduced myself either. I am Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond."
Eowyn stood a little straighter. "Then it is good to meet you at last, my Lady." She vaguely remembered something of her from reading about the history of the Elves in one of her uncle's books. The book had not overstated her beauty, she thought as she looked more closely at the elf.
Behind her, Windfola let out a neigh. "Come with me," said Arwen. "I will find a place for your horse next to Asfaloth, then we can find a place for you to rest as well. You must be tired after your long journey. When you have recovered your strength, you will see my father."
"Thank you, my Lady."
lllll
Eowyn stood in the morning light, admiring the view of Rivendell's valley. The greenery and the waterfalls were a view that she could not get from the rolling plains and hills of Rohan, as much as she loved them, and to the east rose the snow-capped Misty Mountains. Everything was peaceful, and she felt a lot better after having changed out of her dirty riding-breeches and into a simple but elegant green dress. Shieldmaiden she may be, but she still preferred to dress like a proper lady. She felt refreshed in every way but one - the fear and darkness that still lingered in her heart because of the uncertainty of the future.
Heavy footsteps shook her out of her thoughts. She saw a tall, dark-haired man with a fair and noble face, walking slowly in her direction. His expression as he looked around the valley was one of wonder and curiosity, as if he had arrived here recently for the first time. His garments were rich, but worn and stained with the marks of a long and harsh journey. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn't yet place it.
"My Lady," he said as he approached. "I sense that you, too, are a stranger to this place. I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor."
Boromir! She remembered him now. He and his father and brother had visited Theoden's court many years ago, when she had been just a little girl. She recalled Denethor as a grim-faced but noble man, strained from years of constant warfare, and the younger brother, what was his name...Faramir, yes that was it...as a somewhat awkward teenager. The Boromir she remembered had been the same proud warrior, though far more carefree than the man she was looking at now.
"Lord Boromir. It has been many years, but I do remember you. I am Eowyn of Rohan."
A look of surprise appeared in his grey eyes. "Lady Eowyn?! Not the little girl running around with a wooden sword! All grown up now. It has been too many years indeed. Long have I wished that the alliance between Gondor and Rohan was as strong as in the years of old, that our leaders saw one another more often."
She smiled wistfully at the memory. "Those were happier times. But what brings you here, on such a long journey from home?"
"My brother, Faramir, and I both had dreams that called us here to Imladris, to Rivendell. He wished to come here with all haste, but because of the danger of the journey, I took it upon myself." He looked directly into her eyes. "And what about you, Lady Eowyn? What would bring you here, alone, so far from the land of the Horse-Lords?"
"I, too have been blessed, or cursed, depending on how you want to look at it, with dreams," said Eowyn. "It seems that a greater force is at work here. My dreams, too, have pointed me to this place. My uncle, the King, is as if he has fallen under some evil spell, and my brother and my cousin must devote all their strength to fighting off the never-ending raids of orcs. I felt it was left to me to make this long journey." She looked more closely at the wear and stains on his cloak. "How many days have you traveled?"
"One hundred and ten, my Lady."
"One hundred and ten? And I thought traveling for thirty-seven days was tiring. Gondor isn't that much further away than Rohan...is it?"
"I lost my horse on the way," Boromir explained. Eowyn nodded, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose Windfola.
A single, clear bell suddenly rang out. "That is the signal for the Council of Elrond, or so I have heard," said Boromir. "I think both of us will want to be there."
They made their way together to a porch on the side of a large house. Lord Elrond, a tall, dark-haired elf with a circlet of silver upon his head, stood in front of a group that included elves, men, and a pair of dwarves. The wizard Gandalf, who had visited King Theoden a few times over the years, was present as well, and a rough-looking, unshaven man sat alone in a corner, apart from the others. Finally, there were three Halflings, or hobbits, small creatures that Eowyn had only read about in books until seeing them today. Elrond introduced the oldest Halfling as Bilbo Baggins and one of the younger hobbits as his cousin, Frodo Baggins. He made no mention of the third hobbit, a rather heavy-set fellow who was partially hidden by shadow in a corner. The Elf-Lord then introduced Boromir and Eowyn to the rest of the group. Though it was a beautiful autumn morning, and the birds were singing, all the faces present were grim.
The older dwarf spoke first, introducing himself as Gloin and his companion as his son Gimli. Gloin spoke of his cousin Balin, who had led a party of dwarves into the mines of Moria, successfully reclaiming them for a while, but who had not been heard from for several years. He also told of the dwarves in the kingdom of the Lonely Mountain in the East being visited by a dark messenger of Sauron, who wanted information about "the least of rings," and was willing to give in return the three Dwarven Rings of Power that Sauron held, along with eternal dominion over Moria. "Rather than give him information," Gloin finished, "I have come here to warn you of Sauron's desire, and to ask for counsel."
"You did well to come here," said Elrond. "For all of you will hear today why this ring, the 'least of rings', is tied to the fate of us all. You have all come to me, strangely in the very nick of time, though I did not call you. By chance it may seem, but it is not so. For a great force is at work here, a force that has ordained that we who sit here must now find counsel for the peril of the world."
Elrond then told the whole tale of Sauron and the Rings of Power. Many, including Eowyn, knew some of the tale, but few knew it all. He told of the Three Rings for the Elves, and the Seven for the Dwarves, and the Nine for the Men, and finally the One, the One Ring that Sauron had forged to rule all the others, this "least of rings" that Sauron was now trying desperately to recover. Elrond spoke of the end of the Second Age, when the Last Alliance of Men and Elves marched on Mordor and defeated Sauron, though the leaders of the Alliance, Gil-galad, King of the Elves, and Elendil, King of Men, fell in battle. "Isildur, son of Elendil, cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand. I bid him cast the ring into the fires of Mount Doom to destroy it, and Sauron's power, once and for all, but he would not listen. He kept it for himself, and it soon betrayed him to his death. Ever since then in the North it has been known as Isildur's Bane," Elrond said solemnly. "After the death of Isildur, the bloodline of the Kings of Men, of Gondor, began a long and slow decline."
Boromir stood up. "With your leave, Master Elrond, I wish to speak more of Gondor, my home. Believe not that its pride and dignity are spent or forgotten. By our valor and our blood is the terror of Mordor kept at bay, and the passages of the Great River open to the West. But it is not of battle that I have journeyed so far to speak. In a dream I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the West a pale light lingered, and a voice cried out to me. To seek for the Sword that was broken, and know that the awakening of Isildur's Bane is at hand."
The rough-looking man in the corner stood up, revealing a sword, broken into two pieces. "And here is the Sword that was broken!" he cried. "The blade that Isildur used to cut the ring from Sauron's hand, three thousand years ago. It is here."
"And who are you, and how come you by this sword?" Boromir asked, turning to face him.
"This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said Elrond. "Though he may appear just a Ranger of the North, he is Isildur's heir." Boromir, seemingly at a loss for words, stared at Aragorn for a moment, then sat back down.
Gandalf, the grey-robed Wizard, spoke up. "It is time. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."
The small hobbit stood, holding the Ring up to the light. It was a simple golden ring, unadorned with any jewels, though it seemed to gleam and flicker in the morning sun. Though she and her mother and aunt had all worn fancier jewelry, Eowyn found her eyes glued to it as she gazed upon the infamous One Ring, Isildur's Bane, for the first time. She remembered her dream, the one where she had been the great warrior princess, and the glint of gold on the princess's finger...
She felt a sudden disappointment as Frodo placed the Ring back underneath his shirt. Looking around, she saw that most eyes were still on the hobbit, but Boromir's face bore an expression strangely similar to hers.
Finally Boromir said, "But how did so strange a messenger come by this Ring, when last it was in the possession of Isildur?"
"That part of the tale is for the Halflings to tell," said Elrond.
The older hobbit, Bilbo, then spoke of his adventure of being hired as a burglar by Gloin and his companions, and of meeting the foul creature Gollum and finding the Ring. Frodo then told his part, of how the Ring had been passed to him, and of all his adventures spanning seventeen years from Bilbo's Party to his pursuit by the Black Riders and his flight on Asfaloth to the Fords of Bruinen just outside the valley. All who were present listened to Frodo's part of the tale very carefully, and many questioned him about various passages. When he was finished, there was a long silence.
Finally, one of the Elves spoke, addressing Lord Elrond. "But what of Saruman? He is learned in the lore of all the Rings, yet he is not among us. Why is he not here?"
Eowyn stood up and spoke for the first time. "Saruman, I fear, is no longer an ally, but an enemy. The peace that once existed on Rohan's frontier with Isengard is no more. Endless raids of orcs now come from that direction, joining with those from Mordor from the East. Our men are hard-pressed to fight them off. And our King, Theoden, grows weaker each day. I fear that Saruman has poisoned his mind."
Murmurs of surprise came from many, and there were looks of disbelief on some faces. "Alas, it is true," said Gandalf. He told of his visit to Isengard, Saruman's desire to acquire the Ring for himself, his imprisonment in the Tower by Saruman, and finally his escape with the aid of one of the Great Eagles.
"It is perilous to study the arts of the Enemy too closely, for good or for ill," said Elrond gravely. "Saruman was deep in our counsel. His betrayal has done great harm to us all."
"And what of this Gollum?" asked Eowyn. "Where is he now?"
"I tracked the foul creature," said Aragorn. "In the Dead Marshes near Mordor, I caught him. He struggled, and I got nothing from his mouth but the marks of his teeth. I turned him over to the Elves of Mirkwood, to keep watch over him, and glad I was to be rid of him. I spoke to him no more, but Gandalf came and talked at length with him."
"Indeed I did," said the wizard. "Gollum was captured by orcs, and taken to Mordor. There he was tormented until he told all he knew, then released to no doubt make further mischief, before Aragorn captured him. Thus the Enemy knows that the One Ring has been found, and that it was long in the Shire, the land of the Halflings. And since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, it will not be long before he knows, if he does not already, that we have it here."
There was a cold silence for a while at those words, until finally Boromir spoke. "And Gollum? What was his fate?"
An Elf, clad differently from the others, jumped up. "Alas! The tidings I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only now have I learned how evil they may be. The creature Gollum has escaped."
"Escaped, Legolas?" cried Aragorn, turning to face the elf. "That is ill news indeed. How came the Elves of Mirkwood to fail in their trust?"
"Not through lack of watchfulness," said Legolas, "but perhaps through over-kindliness. We feared that the prisoner had aid from others, and we guarded him day and night. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to lock him away in a dungeon beneath the earth, where he would fall into his old black thoughts."
"You were less kind to me," growled the Dwarf Gloin, remembering his imprisonment in the Elven-King's dungeons during his adventure with Bilbo and his companions.
"Come now!" said Gandalf. "That regrettable misunderstanding was long ago set right. If all the old grievances between Dwarves and Elves were to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council."
Gloin bowed apologetically, and Legolas continued. "There was a high tree that Gollum liked to climb, and we let him go to the highest branches, always keeping guard at the tree's foot. One day, he refused to come down, and the guards had no mind to come after him; he was trapped, or so they thought. So they simply waited by the tree as darkness fell."
"In the night, Orcs attacked us by surprise. We managed to drive them off, but after the fight was over we discovered that Gollum was gone and his guards slain. How Gollum managed to arrange his rescue we still do not know, but he is cunning, and the spies of the Enemy are many. We followed Gollum's trail, but it was mixed with those of many Orcs, and eventually we lost it. Gollum is gone." Legolas shook his head.
"Gone, but not forgotten," said Gandalf. "He may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen. And with that, I think, the full tale is told. Now we must decide what to do with the Ring."
"Do the Elves have the strength to protect it, when Sauron's might comes for it at last?" asked Aragorn. "You, Lord Elrond, here in Imladris, or Galadriel in Lothlorien, or Thranduil in Mirkwood, or Cirdan in the Grey Havens?"
"I have not the strength," said Elrond, "neither have they."
"Then," said Aragorn, "but two choices remain - to send it over the Sea, or to destroy it."
"The Elves who dwell beyond the Sea would not receive it," said Elrond. "For good or ill it belongs to Middle-Earth. It is for us who still dwell here to deal with it."
"If not beyond the Sea, why not into it?" asked Legolas. "Let us throw the Ring into the depths of the ocean, that it may be lost there forever."
"Not forever," said Gandalf. "There are many things in the deep waters, and seas and lands may change. We are not here to take thought for only one generation, or even one Age. We should seek a final end of this menace, even if we do not hope to make one."
"The Ring was forged in the fires of Mount Doom," said Elrond. "Only there can it be unmade. We must send the Ring to te Fire. We must send the Ring to Mordor."
Another silence fell over the Council, until at length Boromir stood and spoke again. "We speak of hiding and destroying, but why not use this Ring? It has come to us, in this hour. Let us use the weapon of the Enemy against him, to lead us to victory!"
"We cannot use it," said Elrond. "It was made by Sauron alone, and is altogether evil. Its strength is too great for anyone to wield at will, save those who are already powerful. But for them it holds an even deadlier peril. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. One who tried to wield it for his own would fall into darkness, no matter how good his intentions were, and soon another Dark Lord would appear. I dare not take the Ring to wield it."
"Neither would I," said Gandalf.
Boromir bowed, but there was still a look of doubt upon his face. Eowyn sympathized with him, knowing that the words of Gandalf and Elrond were wise, but still wondering if they were being too hasty with the decision to simply cast the Ring into Mount Doom. By sending the Ring to Mordor, did that not create a great danger of Sauron recapturing it?
There was a great silence that lasted for a long time, as each member of the Council buried themselves in their own thoughts. The noon-bell rang and still no one spoke. Finally a small voice was heard, that of Frodo the Halfling.
"I will take the Ring to Mordor," he said, "though I do not know the way."
All eyes turned to Frodo. "It is a heavy burden," Elrond said. "So heavy that none can lay it on another. But if you choose to take the Ring willingly, I will say that it is right. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the great."
"But you won't send him off alone, surely?" said the third hobbit, jumping up from his corner, where he had been unseen or forgotten by everyone else.
"No indeed, Master Samwise!" said Elrond with a smile. "You, at least, shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."
"A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!" said Sam.
