Chapter 2: Crashing a Council
Silence ran throughout the Shire, the only sounds being that of the gentle breeze and the rustling of leaves; it brought with it the autumn chill and the promise of a freezing winter in a few months. The hobbits were all tucked away in their homes, safe and warm inside their quilted beds, no lights to be seen amongst the hills as they all slept peacefully.
But there was one hobbit hole which held a different kind of darkness to it; one telling of complete silence and stillness within, not a soul to be found inside and not one person willing to disturb the air within. Bag End gave off an isolated and lonely air, as though it had been abandoned and was patiently awaiting its owners return; but the more it was left waiting, the more it gave off a foreboding, eerie air, and the more it began to feel like a forgotten memory of a distant past.
Ilaira feared that that is what it would soon become if the hobbits met a foul end on their journey; it would no longer hold that same joy or lively spirit, and soon the memory of those that had lived there would fade away, the house falling into someone else's hands. Ilaira could not bear it if the hobbits did not return home and she was left alone, trapped here, watching as the house and hill passed to new owners and the imprint left by Bilbo and Frodo, as well as by the many generations of Baggins's before them, slowly disappeared before her very eyes.
Still kneeling before the Valar, Ilaira looked up as she said, "I gladly accept your conditions, Lady Yavanna." She meant those words with every inch of her heart, and it could clearly be seen in her eyes and in the strength of her stance.
Yavanna nodded, a gentle smile on her face as she said, "Then it is done."
Ilaira felt a small tugging sensation at her chest, and though it passed quickly, she was left with an odd feeling of loss, as though a part of her were now missing.
"You will find the Hobbits you seek in Rivendell," Yavanna said, "where you will also discover the path they shall choose to take. When and how you reveal yourself to them is up to you, my dear Ilaira; keep in mind that if your people are to return, a nature spirit well-known for their bravery and kindness will aid them greatly. I can do no more to aid you in this Ilaira, the rest is up to you to decide."
Ilaira bowed her head as she said with reverence, "I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity, my Lady. I owe you everything."
"You owe me nothing, child." Yavanna said, her tone soft and kind as always as she smiled down at the spirit, "Now go! It will take two weeks to travel to Rivendell as the crow flies. Or rather, three days as the firefly flies." The two women smiled and laughed together in the silence of the night, creating a melodious and beautiful sound like that of birds singing at the break of dawn.
Ilaira stood, bowing one last time with a smile upon her face. "Do not fret, my Lady, for I shall be alone no longer; I will finally get to meet the hobbits that I have been watching over for all these long years."
Yavanna simply continued to smile, and Ilaira moved over to the great oak tree to retrieve all that she needed; it was where she kept her weapons, the short sword, three daggers and assortment of throwing knives being her only possessions. She quickly tucked the throwing knives into their hidden sheaths in the sash around her waist and up her sleeves.
"Ilaira," The Valar's more sombre tone made Ilaira turn her head and pause in her movements for a moment. Yavanna continued, "The Hobbit who bears the Ring… was stabbed by a Morgul blade not two weeks ago... But do not worry," She hastened to add, seeing the distress in Ilaira's face, "He is being treated by the half-elven Lord of Rivendell as we speak."
Ilaira sighed slightly in relief, though she quickened her pace as she attached the sword and daggers' scabbards to the belt which was also hidden beneath her sash.
"Thank you for telling me, my Lady." She said, "I will make great haste to their sides."
Yavanna smiled warmly once more, and seeing that the spirit was done in her preparations she nodded her head saying, "Good luck, dear Ilaira. And may the spirits of the forest guide you."
Ilaira gratefully returned the nod to Yavanna, transforming into a small, glowing firefly before zipping off across the hills of the Shire, heading towards Rivendell and the hobbits who unknowingly awaited her there.
Yavanna watched her go, standing atop the hill above the hobbit hole known as Bag End, the moons cold light shining down upon the tall and proud oak tree which had taken root there, its occupant now gone as well. When the warm yellow glow had disappeared from Yavanna's sight, and not even a tiny speck of light could be seen amongst the darkness, the Valar's form began to disappear. Soon the place she had once stood was empty, and in her stead there was the faint outline of a human form made up of autumn leaves; they were the colours of a roaring fire, every shade of red, orange and yellow. The leaves were whisked away by a chill autumn breeze, and all trace of the Valar was gone from the hilltop.
The only clue that could be found, if a hobbit were to look hard enough, were in the small, wild flowers which had seemingly sprouted there overnight; they had grown wherever the Valar had stood, and they bloomed even in the darkness of the night.
When Ilaira passed her Soul Tree's boundary she felt another slight tug at her chest, but she ignored it and pushed on; she was desperate to make sure Frodo and the other hobbits were alright, and the sensation had been so small and minute that she soon forgot about it entirely.
A day passed and she soon arrived in Bree, deciding to spend the night resting in the Chetwood just outside of it; now that she was free from the confines of her Soul Tree, Ilaira would have to get as much rest as she could (or at least, as much as she would allow herself) especially when using her powers for such an extended amount of time as she was now. The more she used them the more energy they drained from her now that she was out of the Shire, and using her firefly form to such an extent would take its toll over time if she did not rest.
However, no matter the logic behind it Ilaira found she could not rest for long; she was too agitated and anxious to properly get any sleep, and she found herself twisting and turning on the branch she had perched herself on that night.
As the moon began to dip back towards the horizon, the raucous voices of three men reached Ilaira's ears. They were quite clearly drunk out of their minds, judging by their slurred words and bumbling steps, not to mention the bitter stench of ale which reached Ilaira's nose as they stumbled closer to her tree. They were somehow managing to have a coherent conversation though, and so Ilaira couldn't help but listen in as sleep continued to evade her.
"Those Halflings… Hic!… they were strange… weren't they? Hic!" One of them slurred between hiccups.
"What… you mean those ones that were here a few weeks back? The ones that- disappeared." Another replied with a dramatic flourish of his hands.
"Yeah… Hic!... that was spooky." The first ones eyes widened, brows raised.
"Ya were just seeing things," the third said with certainty. "Hobbits don' just disappear!"
"Yes they dooooo!... Hic!" The first said, pouting slightly at the other man.
"He's right you know… I saw it too. And they talking with that… Strider bloke." The second man said, eyebrows raising as he leaned towards the other man slightly.
"What?!" The third man exclaimed, "No one in their right mind talks to that Ranger! Stop ya yappering!"
"But its truuuuu-Hic!-uuuee!" The first man whined like a small child, pouting again.
"Didn't you hear… about those men cloaked in black, who broke into one of Barlimans rooms? He was scared stiff about it… and refuses to talk to anyone about what happened!" The second man wiggled his fingers at the third and made an OOoooOOOO sound, attempting to imitate a ghost. He received a shove for his efforts.
"Cut that out! There could be one of them Rangers in these woods and we'd never know it. I don' want one of them sneaking up on us."
"Do you think… Hic!... do you think those disappearing hobbits-Hic!- had anything to do with those creepy riders?" The first man said, his back slumping as he walked.
"Pftt yeah right." The third man said, "The only thing them damn Halflings are good for is eating you out of house and home! Barlimans lucky they didn't stay longer than a night, he would've gone out of business!"
The man laughed loudly and crudely, and it just so happened that he was passing underneath Ilaira's tree as he did so. Suddenly his laughter was cut off as he landed face first in the dirt of the forest floor with a resounding Thud.
"Hey!" He shouted angrily, eyes fuming as he whipped his head around, "Which one of you's tripped me? Are ya searching for a fight?!"
The two just stood behind him, eyes wide with confusion and mouths moving wordlessly, trying to find some words, any words. It was then that the first man raised a shaky arm, pointing to something on the ground by the man who had fallen. It seemed his hiccups had disappeared, as a steady stream of stuttered words flowed out of his mouth, though neither of the men could understand him.
They followed his pointed finger and saw that a tree root was sticking up out of the ground; the culprit that had tripped the man, it seemed. As they watched, it slowly slotted back into place in the soil, the wood creaking slightly as it did so. A long, eerie silence passed before any of the men could find their voices again.
"The-The-The-The tree's alive!" The first man screeched in an all too high pitched tone.
The other men's eyes widened and looks of horror and fear took over their faces as they finally comprehended what had happened. They tried to stutter out some words but soon found themselves turning tail instead, the third man stumbling to his feet as fast as he could, crying "Let's get out of here!" The men ran as though a pack of wargs were on their tails, trying to get away from the creepy forest which had somehow come to life to trip one of them up.
Ilaira meanwhile simply smiled to herself, patting the tree's rough bark as she settled down to get some sleep; there was still a couple of hours before dawn broke, and whilst she did not know who this 'Strider' was, she could only hope that he had not been a foe to the hobbits, as it seemed they had caused enough trouble for themselves in Bree without anyone else's interference. It concerned Ilaira how the drunken men had not mentioned Gandalf, but she eventually managed to drift off into a fitful sleep.
When dawn broke Ilaira set off again, and come noon she found herself standing upon Weathertop; a darkness lingered there, and Ilaira did not wish to idle atop the ruined watch tower for long.
Scorch marks littered the age old stone, and evidence of recent scuffles could be seen in the kicked up dust and dirt which had previously lain undisturbed for centuries. There was a small cairn of stones in the centre of the ruined tower, but Ilaira swiftly moved on; whatever battle may have occurred here, she could not change its outcome now, and so she continued on to Rivendell.
But the signs of battle upon that watch tower had only served to increase Ilaira's worry and haste; had that perhaps been the place where Frodo had been pierced by a Morgul blade? Ilaira hoped that was not the case, for it was many leagues from Rivendell and if Frodo had not arrived there on time….
Stop it, she thought to herself, Yavanna said he was being treated by Lord Elrond… He is in safe hands.
Even so, Ilaira travelled long into the night. When the moon had reached its peak she arrived in the Trollshaws, the forest just outside of Rivendell. She could hold her form no longer, and a rest inside a forest would be more beneficial to her than if she had stopped earlier in the vast plains; and so she searched for a tree that looked comfortable enough to perch herself in for the night.
As she did so, she stumbled across three very out of place boulders. Ilaira looked at them curiously, and when some of the moons pale rays shone through the canopy above she discovered they were in fact three stone trolls, caught by the sunlight and forever frozen in place.
Ilaira giggled to herself slightly; she knew the story behind these strange and stupid creatures well, and how they had been turned to stone by the wizard Gandalf. She marvelled at how it really did look like they had been arguing with one another, just as Bilbo had described it whenever he told of this part of his adventure with the dwarves, and her sister too had recalled many a times their ridiculous expressions, captured forever in the cold stone.
Ilaira smiled fondly at the memory; she missed the dear old hobbit and her sister too, and before she went to sleep she wished them both perfect health and happiness, wherever they might now dwell. She wished too that the four hobbits she sought were now safe and well in the elven city not so far away; she would discover their fates come morning.
The next day she arrived in Rivendell, hurrying through the beautiful valley full of tumbling waterfalls and trees of vibrant reds, deep golds and rich browns. She zipped about the halls as fast as she could, checking every window for any signs of the hobbits; she soon found herself stopping her speedy flight path very abruptly (the movement was so jarring she may have given herself whiplash if she were in human form), and turning back around as fast as she could she flew back towards one of the nearby windows.
There, in a far too large bed in a far too elegant and ornate room for a being from the Shire to find at all ordinary, lay one Frodo Baggins. Ilaira sighed with relief; his skin was paler than usual but his breathing was steady, and as she watched from one of the open archways Frodo began to stir. His muscles clearly ached and his shoulder was still giving him grief, judging by his slight grimace when he moved it, but he was alive and well. At least, as well as one could be after surviving a wound from a Morgul blade.
It was then that Ilaira noticed Gandalf sitting by the hobbits bedside in a beautifully crafted chair, smoking his pipe as he greeted the hobbit like it was any other ordinary autumn day. Upon seeing the hobbit smile at his friend Ilaira felt content enough to leave him be for now, and retreated to a nearby birch tree; she was exhausted from three days of intensive travel, and so she returned to her normal self, resting her back against an adjacent branch as she watched Frodo and Gandalf talk beyond the stone carved archways.
She was sure Frodo would meet with the other hobbits soon enough, and after a little more rest he did exactly that. Ilaira followed him as he made his way towards his friends, hiding in the trees nearby. The hobbits rushed towards each other in relief and joy, and upon seeing their reunion a huge grin spilt across Ilaira's face; she then breathed a heavy sigh of relief because they were alive, and they were together, and they were happy, and now that she had arrived too she could watch over them once again.
However, when she saw Bilbo sitting on a bench nearby she expected that she had the same look of shock and overwhelming happiness on her face that Frodo had when he saw his uncle just peacefully sitting in Rivendell; the dear old hobbit had aged so much since she had last seen him, and Ilaira briefly wondered if that was a side effect of holding the Ring for so long.
Relieved and happy to see that all the hobbits were indeed safe and well, Ilaira took this time to relax in another birch tree. She bathed in the warm sunlight and peaceful air of Rivendell all afternoon, her eyes blissfully closing as a gentle breeze tickled her skin and softly billowed her hair; oh how she had missed this place.
Throughout the afternoon and from her high vantage point in the trees, Ilaira saw many people arriving through the stone gates at the entrance to the safe haven; a lone man on a chestnut stallion with a large, round shield upon his back, a sword at his side and a heavy cloak wrapped around him. A small company of elves, their leader on a white and grey mare with a bow and quiver full of arrows on his back, a delicate and light-weight silver cloak covering his shoulders. A small company of dwarves of varying ages arriving on foot, carrying their hefty axes and weapons with ease, their beards long and groomed with care.
It seemed they would be representing their people in what was soon to be a quest against the evil that was the One Ring, even if they did not know it yet, and Ilaira would be doing the same. As she saw each company arrive her eyes began to set with more and more determination to see this through; she would hide no longer, and Middle Earth would once again know of the race of Nature Spirits.
The question was when. When would she reveal herself and her kind once more… and how?
These questions plagued her as she sat in one of the trees surrounding the open dining area that evening, crickets singing quietly in the undergrowth; a feast had been called, and she had managed to follow Frodo here as he had walked by. He was sitting next to and talking with an elderly looking dwarf, and Ilaira half-listened to their conversation as she watched the feast and mulled over her thoughts. The dwarfs name was Gloin, and whilst that rang a bell in Ilaira's head she could not quite place where she had heard the name before.
She ignored it however, as her mind was too preoccupied with the task at hand; her focus before had been purely on the hobbits, as she had been anxious to reach Rivendell and check on their wellbeing, but now that that question had been answered, Ilaira struggled to decide what to do.
She didn't quite know what was to come, or how things would proceed from here, but she did know that the hobbits would be involved somehow, and that she would protect them wherever they might go and against whatever dangers they might face.
Yet Ilaira was worried. How could she suddenly declare herself a nature spirit when no one even believed she existed, or had not even heard of them before? How could she earn the hobbits' trust, or anyone's, if they did not even believe she was telling the truth about her own race?
It would be no easy feat, that was for sure, and Ilaira didn't know when the perfect time to declare this was: In a small group? In a large one with many sceptical eyes on her? Or would she wait to tell only those she met at first, simply lying till the time was right?
No, Ilaira thought, I couldn't lie to the hobbits about that… Perhaps an amble opportunity will present itself, in time.
She hoped so, at least.
The feast was coming to a close, and with everyone's bellies full the gathering moved to the Hall of Fire, where great stories would be told and songs of old would be sung. Ilaira too, moved with the gathering, wishing to hear these beautiful songs again. Yet her mind was so preoccupied that as she did so, she caused the trees leaves to rustle slightly; the sound and movement drew the attention of an elf: Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Woodland Realm to be exact. He found it odd, but dismissed it; it was likely just a bird, or perhaps a large gust of wind.
It was late into the night, and still the songs of the elves drifted through the air and around the halls of Rivendell; they calmed Ilaira's twisting thoughts, and she relaxed in content as she lounged in a tree just outside the hall, on the opposite side of a pathway. It had been so long since she had heard the sweet songs of the elves, and she adored them just as much as any other kind of music; they brought such a sense of calm and peace with them, and the soft melodies blended so beautifully with the gentle splash of the waterfalls and nearby streams, as well as with the rustling of the leaves and the quiet crackle of the fires inside.
Ilaira closed her eyes, her foot tapping along to the tune slowly. Without realising it, she had begun to quietly hum along to the familiar song, and this drew the attention of a passer-by who had been walking along the pathway below. Ilaira however, was lost in the melody.
"Should you not be fast asleep by now, little one?"
Ilaira took a sharp intake of breath as her eyes snapped open, turning with haste towards the voice that was far too loud and sounded far too near to her. Her legs were now dangling in the air and she had to hold onto the tree with both hands to prevent herself from falling off, due to the momentum she had created, and her eyes were wide as she stared down at the man who stood on the path below her. He was quite clearly looking at her, and there was nobody else around that he could have been talking too. Ilaira had been discovered.
Ilaira continued to stare at him, struggling to come up with the right words that would explain her presence there, but the man simply gave her a small smile, and his eyes were kind as he said softly, "Do not be frightened, little one, I mean to cause you no trouble. My name is Aragorn, or perhaps you have heard the name Estel instead?"
Ilaira knew neither of these names, but she realised that this man must have mistaken her for an elven child. She could think of no other way out of this situation, and so she decided to play only with his assumptions, tilting her head slightly and swinging her legs in the air as she said:
"Maaybeeee…. You won't tell anyone I'm out here though, will you my Lord? I don't want to get into trouble again." She pouted slightly, her eyes wide and brow furrowed, the perfect picture of a pleading child.
"I will consider it…" The man said, "Perhaps if you tell me your name and the reason you are out here, I will pretend I saw nothing."
"My names Ilaira, my Lord." She saw no point in lying more than she needed too, "And I just wanted to look at the stars."
At this Ilaira looked up, and Aragorn followed her in this motion, saying "They are certainly very bright tonight… quite beautiful too."
They stayed like that for a while, silently looking up at the stars which seemed to shine with a cold and distant light, and which meant so much to the elves. But eventually Aragorn broke the silence, looking back down at Ilaira:
"But why must you hide in a tree to do so?"
Ilaira continued to look at the stars as she replied, "It's a good vantage point, and I can hear the songs from here. Usually no one sees me up here so I get to think and listen in peace. This is my favourite place in Rivendell."
"You have indeed found an excellent spot to watch the stars, Lady Ilaira." As Aragorn continued, Ilaira looked back down at him, "But do not stay too long; we would not want you to get into trouble again, now would we?" He finished in a secretive tone, and Ilaira giggled as she said:
"No my Lord, we would not."
"Then I wish you a pleasant night, little Ilaira." With that he nodded to her, and when she returned the nod he continued his walk along the pathway, disappearing into the night.
When he was gone and Ilaira was once again alone, she sagged and released a large sigh of relief. She hadn't wanted to have to explain herself so suddenly, and to a random stranger no less! She was still vastly unprepared to reveal herself and her kind to anyone, but the man had seemed to accept her story; what he didn't know couldn't hurt him after all, and it was unlikely she would see him again.
But what Ilaira didn't know was that she would in fact see him again, as he would be at the soon to be held council the very next day. And what she also didn't know was that Aragorn had noticed her eyes had held much more wisdom and age than an elf that size should have had, something he had pondered as he had walked away from her.
Yet Ilaira now settled down in the tree once again, this time much higher up to avoid being spotted by any other curious and vigilant passers-by, and despite her troublesome thoughts, for the first time in over a month Ilaira had a deep, restful sleep, in the safety of Rivendell's valley.
Golden sunlight filtered into the valley below as dawn broke over the cold peaks of the Misty Mountains, the light catching the water of the many streams and falls so that they shimmered like silver, and the birds sang in a cacophony of melodious twittering as they awoke from their slumber.
Ilaira too woke up, and it was not long before she heard the loud chiming of a bell; not one you would find in a clock, but rather one which presented the time of something important. It was not long after she heard this chime that she saw Gandalf rush past with Frodo and Bilbo in tow, and one Samwise Gamgee bringing up the rear. Ilaira had briefly heard that a Council would be held that day, and sensing its importance she followed the small group.
They soon arrived in a small, circular courtyard with various autumn trees surrounding it. A stone pedestal sat in the centre of the courtyard in front of Lord Elrond, and a semicircle of seated council members sat before him. Ilaira hid in a tree near the middle of this semicircle, as it gave her a good view of the majority of the council; as she looked around she saw the dwarf Gloin, as well as the people she had seen arrive through the gate the previous day and the man that she had unwillingly spoken to last night. Her eyes widened slightly at this, for she had not expected to see the man sitting at the end of the row, and he seemed to be rather reclusive, sitting slightly apart from the rest of the council.
As she studied the strange man something moved in the corner of her eye; she looked up just in time to see the heads of one Merry and one Pippin disappear back around the sides of the pillars they were hiding behind. She smiled at the two's antics, and if they were around, she had no doubt Sam would be too. Just as this thought crossed her mind however, a rustle came from the bushes just behind Frodo; it seemed Sam was back to his eavesdropping tactics again, and Ilaira hoped he was not discovered in quite the same way this time.
The council began, and Ilaira listened intently to the long talk of what had been happening in Middle Earth; news of the outside world rarely reached the hobbits of the Shire, and so Ilaira too had been clueless about it all. So much had occurred in those 3,028 years.
When Gloin told his tale Ilaira finally recalled where she had heard his name; he had been part of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, a company her sister Alwyn had too been in. But the dwarf did not mention her sister, nor had he last night in his many talks with Frodo, and it made Ilaira curious and rather puzzled. Had her sister remained with the dwarves after reclaiming Erebor, or had she gone elsewhere? Did the dwarves even know what she was? If they did, it would make Ilaira's task a little easier, but she doubted they knew anything at all about the existence of nature spirits.
When Elrond told the tale of the Ring and of the Second Age, Ilaira's mind was clouded with dark memories she had wished to forget, but never could. The destruction of the land and the abundance of death, the burning of a stark white tree, the feeling of isolation on a battlefield when surrounded by those who should be your allies. They were all small flashes in the recesses of Ilaira's mind, but they were painful nonetheless.
She could not help but feel guilty and responsible for the failure of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves; perhaps if she had done things differently, if she had not been such a coward, the Ring would have been destroyed that day and would not have fallen into the hands of Bilbo and Frodo. Perhaps none of this would have happened.
The two previously named hobbits then told their own tales, and though she had heard Bilbo's many a time, she had not heard Frodo's. She had indeed been right to worry about them on their journey, and she wished she could have been there to protect them. However, Aragorn seemed to have been an excellent aid in getting them to Rivendell, and it was extraordinary that he had managed to fend off five Ringwraith's as he did all by himself; as such Ilaira did not blame him for the outcome of that battle, and she was simply thankful for his help.
Frodo also mentioned the help given to him and the other hobbits by Tom Bombadil. Ilaira had met the odd man many a time, and they had quickly become great friends- though perhaps those are stories for another, less dark occasion than this.
Finally, Frodo told of how the river Bruinen had swept away the Ringwraith's and their steeds under Arwen's command, and Ilaira was overjoyed to hear this; even when in hibernation, the daughter of the river Bruinen had not completely abandoned the earth nor the elves she had once served and lived amongst. Ilaira found hope in this news.
The day wore on, and Ilaira continued to listen as Gandalf told of how Saruman had betrayed them. Ilaira had never particularly liked the White Wizard; he always had an air of superiority around him and he was the least fun out of all the Istari, but he had always nurtured the gardens around his tower at Isengard, and that had been one of his more redeeming qualities.
But now, it grieved Ilaira to hear of Isengards ruin and of how Saruman had destroyed the land around him, using it for his own foul goals and to give birth to dark and evil creatures. She now understood that sudden pain she had felt in her chest that day in the Shire, the one that had brought her to her knees in agony; she had felt the deaths and pain of hundreds of her fellow forest spirits as their trees had been cut down and uprooted from the soil that had given them life. These deaths had gone unnoticed by all but her. Ilaira struggled to keep the tears from her eyes at this revelation, but it only hardened her resolve to help her people return, to protect the hobbits, to protect those she cared for now, and to help in whatever way she could to destroy and rid Middle Earth of this evil that had spread across the land; she would see it all through to its very end.
Her teeth were gritted and her fists clenched as she watched the council below her, and now that everyone's tales had been told, Frodo revealed the source of it all; the One Ring. As it was placed on the stone pedestal, Ilaira could feel its evil presence reaching out to all those who had been called to this council, trying to tempt them into using it and into betraying them all. When Gandalf spoke the harsh language of Mordor it sent a chill up Ilaira's spine, and she was forced to grip onto the tree for support; if she had not, she may have fallen out, such was the effect of the dark and evil tongue of their enemies.
Ilaira studied each of the faces of those present at the council, but before she could study them all, the man she had seen arrive yesterday stood. He was from Gondor… and he was ignorant. He wanted to use the Ring against Sauron, but he could not see the folly in that. Ilaira's brows furrowed in slight irritation and worry.
But the ranger known by the names Strider, Aragorn and Estel stood; he tried to reason with the Gondorian, but to no avail. One of elves even stood to defend him, declaring his heritage; it did not mean anything to Ilaira, but when it was said that he was Isildurs heir… she was surprised to say the least. She hoped he was nothing like his ancestor of old, but his kindness to her the previous night, and the fact that he had willingly aided the hobbits on their journey, suggested that he was not like them at all…
The elf's declaration however, had not helped Aragorn's case in the face of the Gondorian; but at least for now, the man had returned to his seat.
Ilaira knew they had only one choice, and that was to destroy the vile Ring before anyone else could get their hands on it. As Elrond announced this to the council, one of the younger dwarves rushed over to it, swinging his axe down upon the thing with full force and no hesitation; he was rewarded with a sore bum and a broken axe. Ilaira had to try and stop herself from giggling at the brazen dwarf, though she did feel sorry for him, and she noticed the cringe Frodo gave when the dwarf had tried to hit the Ring; Gandalf had seen it too, and it reminded Ilaira that Frodo's fate was indeed tied to that damned thing. She smiled though at Elrond's slightly snarky explanation to the dwarf that it could not be destroyed by a mere weapon, too late for the dwarf to heed the warning; really, some people never changed.
Yet as Elrond continued Ilaira grew more serious; this was the journey Yavanna had talked about, the path that would be taken to Mordor in order to destroy the Ring in the depths of Mount Doom.
But as Boromir spoke of what lay ahead for those that would take this journey, Ilaira knew in the back of her mind that she would not be able to complete it, if it was indeed the path the hobbits chose to take. She could not traverse the barren wastelands that lay before and within Mordor, for she would die in just a few days; she would lucky if she lasted a week, for no nature spirit could survive where nothing lived.
She pushed it to the back of her mind though, as an argument broke out amongst the council. Ilaira felt slight despair at the fact that dwarves and elves clearly still did not get along, but her opinion of Aragorn only increased when she saw that he was not arguing like the rest, but remained seated, just as Lord Elrond and Frodo had.
Ilaira focused on Frodo, drowning out all other sounds as she studied his face; he was clearly thinking and struggling mentally as he stared at the One Ring. Ilaira knew from the hobbits nature and by the conflicted facial expression he wore now, precisely what path he would choose to take. She could see what lied ahead of him, and though her brow creased in concern she did nothing to stop him; he was free to make his own choices, and Ilaira would follow him no matter what they might be.
As Frodo stood, she heard only his voice:
"I will take it! I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor!"
Silence fell over the council, for whilst they had been arguing like children, the smallest and most unassuming of them all had stood up, and had the courage that none of them had been able to muster in the face of such evil.
One by one, members of the council pledged their allegiance to Frodo and stood behind him, and again Ilaira had to stop a laugh from escaping her lips when Sam ran from the undergrowth to join his friend in his journey, and again at Elrond's face when Merry and Pippin leapt out from their hiding spots to also join the company; though she didn't quite manage to keep it all in when the latter happened.
Ilaira was filled with compassion for the brave hobbits who would risk their lives for one another, and she was grateful to all who had joined the company to support them. It would be a long journey, and a hard one, but she smiled widely at the courage shown by these men of all different races.
"Nine companions…" Elrond spoke, looking upon the company with pride, "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship, of the Ring."
At this Ilaira gasped and snapped out of her reverie; it seemed she had gotten rather caught up in the moment, but now she began to panic. What was she going to do?! The company was being finalised and she had yet to reveal herself! She had to do something quick otherwise she'd never gain any of their trust and she would miss her only opportunity to reveal who she was to them!
Pippin had just finished speaking, and it seemed as though the council was about to come to a close, and so Ilaira did the first thing that popped into her head.
She cried, "Wait!" as loud as she could, transforming into a firefly, zipping between the two men before her and then transforming back into herself, now stood before the Fellowship, and in the centre of the whole council. She then continued, declaring in a strong voice:
"I too wish to join the Fellowship."
A/N: Thank you for reading and thank you so much for your patience, words cannot describe how sorry I am for how long it been since I posted the first chapter. Its been what... 8 months? Damn... the next chapter certainly shouldn't be that long of a wait, as my exams will be over come mid June and so the summer shall begin and I will have more time on my hands. Also this is the longest chapter I have ever written for any fanfic, so perhaps that's some consolation, even if it is slightly a filler...
Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed, your support means so much to me and I really hope this was worth the wait (and that you haven't completely forgotten everything that happened previously by now). I have made some very small adjustments to the speech with Yavanna in the previous chapter as it has been bothering me this whole time, but its nothing too big for you too worry about if you don't want to go back and search for it.
Review Replies:
Thank you to Jesus died for us, donutcomeforme, and KEZZ 1 for your reviews. I'm glad to hear you like my story, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!
MonsterCupcake61176:I'm so glad you like Ilaira and can believe that she is part of Middle Earth, as that is what I was trying to achieve when creating her race; I wanted it to be realistic. I hope you continue to like Ilaira as the story progresses and more of her character is revealed, and thanks for telling me you listened to Peter Hollens! I'm glad you liked it, his music is great and the Hobbit Drinking Medley always makes me smile.
So, once again thank you all for reading this chapter and for being patient with me beyond belief, and whether you liked what you read or not...
PLEASE REVIEW!
-Limegreenarcher