A/N: thanks to Sapphire Immortal who read this
October 24 3018, Dusk
I managed to escape Minas Tirith without being noticed. Only now that I near Rivendell do I begin to ponder my decision. Do not confuse me; I do not regret my choice, only what consequences my choice may lead to. My father will undoubtedly be furious at me. However, I do believe Boromir will follow my instructions – he knows my foresight to be unsettlingly accurate. Possibly too accurate for my own good, but I feel that acting on my instincts this moment is the only way to save my brother's life.
Rivendell's beautiful forest looms in front of me. After 113 long days, I have finally reached my destination.
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I have not much strength to spare for writing. The ride here was long and taxing. Upon arriving, I stabled my horse and was shown to my room by none other than Glorfindel himself. The lore master in me wanted to squeal like a female child. However, I managed to remain calm and composed. The room he has led me too is truly unbelievable. It's vast, nearly twice the size of my room in Gondor. It is also incredibly open, and the cool breeze welcomed me. It is made of a white wood, a form that I have never come across. The ceiling is high, and has ribbed cross vaults. The room has an oak desk for writing, complete with a stack of fresh parchment and a quill and ink. There is a chair, made of a light oak wood that matches the writing desk. I also have a rather large bed. It is also made of oak, and has four posts and a canopy, with a pale green gauzy material. I laid down my luggage, which just consisted of a change of clothes, my weapons, my notebook and pencil, and of course, food, and water, on the floor and lay down on the bed. It was as comfortable as it was large. And it was plenty large.
Sadly, I must stop writing; Lord Elrond is holding a council early tomorrow morning and has invited me to attend. He informed me that the answers I seek be given in the council. I know not what I will discover but I shall attend.
October 25, 3018, Dusk
The council wore on for the entire day. Though I am nearly exhausted, I shall attempt to write down all that transpired before the nights end so that I can be sure to recall all the numerous subjects and details of the council.
When I arrived at the council I was quite surprised by the range of beings in attendance, truly I believe we had at least one representative of all the free peoples of Middle Earth.
I arrived at the same time as several other people, including such notables as Glorfindel, Glóin, and of course Lord Elrond. There were several others at the counsel whom I was not acquainted with – I would soon become acquainted with them though. We were meeting in a clearing in the woods. The surrounding trees provided a nice bit of shade that covered the circle of seats. The center of our council contained a small wooden table with nothing on it – at least not at the moment. After everyone was seated, Lord Elrond arose and introduced what appeared to be but a small child. However, he did not bear the face of a child, but more like an adult.
"Here my friends, is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo." Lord Elrond scanned the crowd and then continued, "Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more. Urgent." He then showed Frodo and Gandalf to their seat and began to introduce everyone at the council: beside Glóin sat his son, a younger Dwarf named Gimli he had reddish brown hair, which was tied back into a dwarvish braid, a large beard that also was braided in dwarfish fashion. He wore a metal cap with intricate knotwork designs around the edges. His breastplate was made of the same metal, but was covered by his beard so that I could not see the front. He wore also great brown boots that looked hard enough to withstand the toughest mountain climb. Glorfindel, counsellor of Elrond's house sat next to him, in the silver clothing that all of Elrond's house seemed to wear; Erestor, chief counsellor sat next to him, his golden hair was loose, unbraided like the rest of his kin; Galdor, and Elf from the Grey Havens was beside him, his face was hard and he looked to have seen much of hardship. Legolas, from the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, the king of the Mirkwood elves sat beside him. His golden hair was long, with two braids in the front. He wore the brown tunic of the Mirkwood elves, with intricate vines embroidered in the front. He had gray pants and light boots that looked to be made of leather. Bilbo Baggins, another hobbit, one who appeared to be remarkably old sat beside him. His curly hair was rather gray, and his head kept nodding as though he were trying not to fall asleep. The only one he did not introduce was a tall man with a rugged face, dark-haired and grey-eyed; he seemed to me to be both noble and wise. However, his clothing suggested he lead a rather rough life. His black tunic was heavily patched, and his black pants were rather worn. Lastly, he introduced me.
"Here, is Faramir, a man from Gondor. He arrived late last night, and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions shall be answered." I bowed my head in respect.
The council went on for a few hours without really getting anything started. I feared that we would skirt around the real reason for the council until night when Glóin suddenly stood up and told of a strange messenger that had come to seek the assistance of the dwarves. The servant was of Mordor and wished to know of hobbits and a 'little trifle' ring – the whereabouts of which the dwarves gave him no answer. They stalled and told him to come back later. Thus, the dwarves decided to come to Rivendell to both warn Bilbo of his dark pursuers and gain the counsel of Lord Elrond.
"You have done well to come," Lord Elrond said to Glóin and Gimli. "You will hear today all that you need in order to understand the purpose of the enemy. There is naught that you can do, other than to resist, with hope or without it. But you do not stand alone. You will learn that your trouble is but a part of the trouble of all the western world. The Ring! What shall we do with the Ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies? That is the doom we must now deem."
He then stood and addressed the entire council.
"That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance, as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world."
He paused and looked at each of the council members. It felt as if the fate of the world would depend on what we were about to discuss. I was nearly overcome with curiosity of what the 'Ring' was, anxiety as to what would come of our meeting, and an odd sense of destiny. I knew this meeting would save, or destroy Middle Earth. When his eye at last fell upon me I felt my breath hitch, his intense eyes seemed to be burrowing into my very soul. I was more than a little relieved when he looked away.
"Now," Lord Elrond continued his speech. "Therefore, things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden from all but a few until this day. And first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the tail of the Ring shall be told from the beginning to the present. And I will begin that tell, though others should end it."
Finally, the moment had come, finally I would know of the Ring.
Lord Elrond began the tale with the forging of the rings of power. He told us of how Sauron deceived everyone by creating another secret, all-powerful ring. He then traced its dark history throughout the Second age. He told of the Númenor, of Moria, and finally the last alliance of Men and Elves. Lord Elrond was a member of that army; he was there on that day, that day that changed Middle Earth. He watched as Isildur cut off Sauron's hand and took the Ring. He begged Isildur to destroy it, to rid the world of its evil. However, the Ring had Isildur under its power – he would suffer it no harm. The Ring eventually betrayed him, and so began the downfall of the Kings of Gondor. Sauron was not destroyed by the loss of his Rings, for his life force is directly tied to it. Sauron has begun to arise again. He has resumed the building of his army and resides once again in Mordor. However, he cannot yet take form. I had heard much of this tale, but never its entirety.
Lord Elrond then gave leave for others to take up the story. My love for my country drove me to speak. Alas, I could not control myself; I had to defend the greatness of my beautiful city. I know that Elrond had not intentionally meant to belittle Gondor, yet that is how the tale sounded to me.
"Believe not that all of the blood of the Númenor is spent. Nor is all its dignity forgotten. Gondor has long defended the west, and kept the evil of Minas Morgul at bay. Nay, all of Gondor's hope or dignity is not lost. Yet I do not claim that Gondor alone can defeat the enemy. However, I have not come hither to so great a counsel to ask for allies in war. I have come to ask for counsel and the meaning of a dream.
In my dream, I thought the eastern sky grew dark as there was a growing thunder, but in the west a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying.
'Seek for the sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
For Isildur's bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.'
Of these words, no sense could be made. I was sent to Rivendell to see what the council should be." I felt myself blush slightly as I spoke the last few words. I myself had not actually been sent, for the first time that day I found myself wondering what my brother had thought of my departure.
At this point the man I had seen earlier in the corner stood up, and I could see that he was indeed kingly.
"And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you." He said. He then cast his sword, which was in two pieces, upon the center table and turned to Lord Elrond. "Here is the Sword that was broken."
I was nearly faint with wonder. Here, before I, sat the very sword that Isildur cut Sauron's fingers!
"Who are you?" I murmured in quiet awe, my eyes never leaving the sword. Surprisingly, Lord Elrond answered me. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He is descended through many fathers, from Isildur, Elendil's son, of Minas Ithil. He is the chief of the Dunedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk."
