Author's Note:Right. So. Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter, or rather, the Prologue. Loads of thanks to my first reviewer(EVER!), Theta-McBride. Finally finished this monster of a chapter. Disclaimer is at the bottom. READ IT!
I will not ask you to review as many stories on here do, but...please do. ;) It makes me feel happy. Hope this story makes you happy, too.
Elvish: Mae g'ovannen=Well met
Mellon-nin=My friend
Posto vae=Rest well
Abarad=Until tomorrow
Gi nathlam hí=You are welcome here
Chapter 1: The Council of Agent Smith
I woke with a bright light shining in my eyes. "Five more minutes..." I mumbled as a figure walked into the room. A song of peace was in the air, carrying me to thoughts of a green rolling land where no harm befell its inhabitants. I realized this song that surrounded me was Elvish, since I had painstakingly learned Sindarin a couple of years back during my first several college years for fun. I sat up straight in the white soft bed, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, my coat resting on a chair nearby. The room had no lack of light and vine-wrapped pillars could be seen outside. It matched the book's description perfectly:I was in Rivendell. Peter Jackson had done a beautiful and quite accurate job in his movie.
"Mae g'ovannen. I am glad to see you are awake. You have been sleeping for nigh upon three days," said a tall figure with a long, grey beard and matching robe and hat. I gulped at his kindly and wizened face. Strange that Gandalf looked so much like Ian McKellen.
"Where-what happened?" Maybe I was being punked. Yeah, sure, in the land of gumdrops and butterflies. I didn't think my friends, the only ones who would do this, were good at acting at all. Except, maybe, drunk.
"You, lady elf, were found in the woods not far from the Ford of Bruinen, in strange clothes and with your weapons nearby," Sure enough, I looked over and saw a sword, long curved knife, and bow and arrows, all of elven make. "but Arwen, who found you, recognized you as one of the Marchwardens of Lothlorien, and so brought you here, to Rivendell. You are Merilieth, correct?" I blinked, processing what was said. I apparently was known to them. I had to act like so, processing the knowledge quickly.
"Mithrandir. I do not know what happened, but...yes. I believe so," trying to put an Elvish lilt on my words. It sounded like a Mucinex was needed, and I stopped trying to sound Elvish.
"Ah. Very well then. I have pressing business to attend to. You may not know, as it was rather hastily planned, but there is a council that addresses the future of Middle-Earth. You may attend if you wish. The council shall start soon. Posto vae," said the wizard before leaving. He shut the door behind him, and I started to hyperventilate and talk to myself.
"Obviously, I was sent here for a purpose. But-why? All I know of fighting is stuff from the Renaissance fair. Oh god. The council." Realization of the magnitude of it all dawned upon me. Just a dream. Just a dream. An elven maiden came in and helped me dress into a long, sweeping green dress that was tight at the chest and free below. I looked into the mirror. I used to be Alex Forths, a nerdy tomboy with no life outside of college except for Marching Band, a tall, awkward saxophone player with her cynical head always down to Earth-except of course when reading a book. Now I was an elf, a fighting elleth who had no freaking clue what was going on except that someone must have been smoking something somewhere in the theater, and my unconscious mind processed it poorly.
I was led to the open courtyard where the council would be held. All I knew was that this was a dream. But-I never fell asleep during movies. Previews, though...
Elves, dwarves, and men alike streamed into the clearing, and I spotted Gloin, Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir, Frodo, and Gandalf, along with other unnamed dwarves, men, and elves. All just like their actor counterparts. Well, whaddya know.
Legolas sat besides me. He greeted me as a friend in Elvish, and I played along, trying to keep my normal monotone face and voice, bewildered. It was all I could do to not fangirl when Elrond spoke, Hugo Weaving-like face making me want to say Mr. Anderson after every phrase. Great.
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." Mr. Anderson.
"Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall." Mr. Anderson.
"Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." A pause. Mr. Anderson. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." Bring forth the Ring, Mr. Anderson.
The small hobbit slowly walked forward from his seat, and put the Ring on the pedestal standing in the middle. Poor little guy, I thought. Seventeen years with the Ring in the back of your mind must make you reluctant to part from something so influential and evil. I frowned as all looked at the Ring. Dude, I could hear whispering in my head. Holy Toledo.
"So it is true," Boromir spoke, a man of Gondor I had taken great interest in, learning and discovering his character so I would not hate him as so many did. All he wanted was for the end of Gondor's hardship. Frodo sat down opposite the man, sighing and closing his eyes. "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 your people, I thought, are our lands kept safe. "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 can not wield it. None of us can." I wanted to take Aragorn's lines, but knew that this moment created a first impression. I was going to be nice and unchallenging to the man who would be corrupted by the Ring. The Ring knew that this man, if he took the Ring, would bring it back to its master, indirectly of course. Its powers were trying to influence him more than any other. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
"And what, would a Ranger know of this matter?" Heck, all I knew for sure now, in this kooky dream, was that things were about to get heavy and fast. Not that they weren't heavy before, but...
"This is no mere Ranger," said the (cute) blonde elf next to me, standing up. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
"Aragorn," said Boromir, disbelieving, "This is Isildur's heir?" Dude. Not cool. Don't be high and mighty. No one likes that stuff.
"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Told.
"Havo dad, Legolas," said Aragorn, being humble.
"Gondor has no king," said Boromir, looking at Legolas somewhat spitefully. "Gondor needs no king." He sat down, disgruntled.
"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it," said Gandalf, trying and failing to somewhat diffuse the tension.
Agent Smith, rather, Elrond, stood. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." The Ring, sensing its danger, let forth a whisper. Frodo looked grim.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Gimli stood and struck the Ring. However, its force shattered its axe and repelled him backwards. I noticed Frodo hold his head, in pain, mental or physical, I didn't know. What I did know was that this ring was seriously bad voodoo. Duh. But something about seeing it impact these people face to face was not like the movie. The Ring growled in Black Speech.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess," said Elrond. No dip, Sherlock. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom," Only there can it be unmade, I thought. "Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came," The Ring must've been having a panic attack. "One of you must do this." Silence.
"One does not simply walk into Mordor," Boromir took a deep breath, exasperated. "Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." Cheery.
I decided to speak up. Adrenaline buzzed through my fangirly veins. "To go into Mordor by way of the Black Gates is folly, yes. But if we went by another way..." I caught Gandalf glancing at me out of the corner of my eye.
"Regardless of the path, the Ring must be destroyed," said tall, blonde, and handsome. Legolas, that is. Not Eowyn or Galadriel or any other blonde females. I tried not to smile.
"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" Gimli growled.
"And if we fail? What then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Captain Smiley of Minas Tirith strikes again, I thought to myself, wondering if the guy had a light side. I knew he did; however, now wasn't the lightest moment in Tolkien's world.
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" Gloin stood to back up his son, and Legolas held the elves back, arms spread wide. I always wanted to touch that robe. It looked velvety, what could I say?
Discord and argument spread. "Never trust an elf!" Gimli really needed some trust falls with Legolas or something. Gandalf joined the fray, hoping to speak sense into the horde. I sat there, trying not to laugh at all of them, or rather Gimli's behaviour. The movies made it seem like the Ring caused the representatives of the races of Middle-Earth to fight and be riled so easily. I believed it, for it was the truth, really never more clear in my eyes than now.
"I will take it." said Frodo, not heard but for those who were paying attention, like me. "I will take it." The courtyard silenced in response to the lone hobbit's voice, made powerful by its words. I stood, knowing I couldn't skip out on this quest. Better to have a good, exciting dream than one just lounging about. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." Gandalf and the others stared at Frodo, and Gandalf held an air of resigned sadness about him. "Although, I do not know the way."
"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." said Gandalf.
The heir of Isildur spoke. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." Aragorn walked over to kneel before the hobbit. "You have my sword."
"And you have my bow," said Legolas.
"And my axe," said Gimli, not to be undone by an elf.
"You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done." Boromir was himself. I stepped forward.
"The blades of a Marchwarden are drawn for your protection." I knelt before Frodo amongst disagreeing whispers. He nodded, and I smiled kindly, and moved to stand besides Legolas, who nodded at me. I was surprised, for from all of the fanfiction I read, Boromir would've been at my throat by now. Well, no matter what anyone thought, I would not be a bad fellowship-member. If I could fight. Crap. What I just did was not something I would've done in real life. YOLO?!
"Here! Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" said Sam, who had been hiding behind some bushes. The gentle gardener loyally came by Frodo's side.
"No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." Elrond said, amused, his expressive eyebrows dancing around his forehead.
"Oy! We're coming too!" exclaimed Merry as he and Pippin, friends and relations of Frodo, appeared from behind two pillars and skittered past Elrond. Poor elf was bewildered. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."
"Anyway, you need people of intelligence of this sort of mission...quest...thing." Pippin was adorable. I rolled my eyes and smiled.
"Well that rules you out, Pip." Ah, Merry.
"Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." Oh dear. Not ten companions. ARGH. I just had to be a tenth walker. Grr.
"Right," said the youngest and most lighthearted of the hobbits, Pippin. "Where are we going?"
Once the council was over, I strode quickly back to my room to compose myself. I closed the intricately carved door behind me and freaked, hyperventilating, and throwing a pillow across the room.
"This dream PWNS!" I whispered to myself, thinking of an inside college Quiz Bowl joke. If only I had paid more attention in horseback riding and fencing when I was younger, and not nerdy things. A knock on my door, a jolt and I composed myself.
"Merilieth, may I come in?" Legolas' voice came through the door.
I called, "Gi nathlam hí!" in the best Elvish I could. It was too formal. Maybe this Merilieth chick was very withdrawn, like me? I goddamn hoped so. I also couldn't act, like my friends.
Legolas entered to find me sitting calmly on my bed. Inside, I was a volcano. An active one, not a dormant one. My emotions, however, did not find their way to my slightly smiling mask.
"Mae g'ovannen, mellon-nin," Legolas began, closing the door behind him. I returned the greeting properly, straining to remember Sindarin. We spoke in elvish, which made me want to jump off of Orthanc. I couldn't slip up. Great. Just...great. I hated conjugation never more than when in the Elvish language.
"You are well?"
"Yes, Legolas. And you?"
"Yes."
Determined to not be awkward, I asked if we could spar later. "For it has been a long time since the need to fight was brought upon me." Like, never. Psht. Same thing.
"I would be delighted. Perhaps tomorrow? Now, let us join the feasting and merrymaking of Imladris," Legolas said, offering his elbow. I linked my arm around his and we set off in search of the dining hall.
We strolled along calmly, and I used the silence to assess the situation:
1)I was an elf.
2)I needed to get used to being an elf.
3)I had no idea on how to fight anything but straw dummies.
4)I had to learn how to fight well, and quickly, too. Preferably before leaving Rivendell.
5)I couldn't change the story. (Boromir's and Theoden's deaths included, at which I always cried like a baby at)
6)I had to wake up and finish watching my twenty dollar movie. College kids are poor, what can I say?
7)I had to finish my paper on bio-chemical inter-molecular forces, assigned by the most hated teacher for chemistry majors...
I decided the last one could wait. When I woke up, I was so writing this down somewhere.
Legolas and I came across Arwen Undomiel in the halls, daughter of Elrond and the elf who found me in the woods near Bruinen. I suppressed a moan as she spoke merrily in Elvish.
"Ah, friends. I had been looking for you, especially you, Merilieth. How do you fare? And, I see you have changed out of those odd clothes you wore. They were horrible on your frame," As Alex the Human Woman, I would've blushed and asked what was wrong with the innocent t-shirt and skinny jeans. Then again, as a human, I was stick-thin, nearly anorexic-looking. Though, I ate like a dwarf. Stupid tall-person metabolism. Now I was more filled out. Thank goodness too.
"I am well, thanks to you," I struggled to find the next words, and hid it with a warm smile,"and thank goodness for dresses." I hated dresses. "Though, I would need to borrow leggings and a tunic for our journey."
"Ah. Yes of course, dear friend," Arwen turned to Legolas, "Now, if only we could get Estel to ask for new, clean, clothes." Elven laughter of chimes, bells and pure joy rang out, and put my quiet, awkward and out of place laugh to shame. Thank goodness I was what Tolkien would describe as, "grim". Not much laughter from me to blow my cover!
We entered the feasting hall shortly, and Legolas sat with me as Arwen went off to join her father. I piled food onto my plate, but sadly not meat. I couldn't seem un-elven.
"Hungry? You usually do not eat as much," Legolas commented (in the Common Tongue, which I understood and spoke like English, thank goodness) as I got ahold of some mushrooms from near him. Obviously, the elf I was did not eat much.
"Legolas, I have been asleep for three days. Would you be hungry? I deem so," and cheese found its way onto my nearly-full plate. The blonde raised an eyebrow, amused, smirked, and ate some iceberg lettuce. Not very nutritional. I grabbed for the leg of a chicken (hopefully chicken) and bit ferociously.
Gimli and Gloin, who sat nearby, were telling of the quest to take back Erebor. Their biased interpretations of the quest as opposed to Bilbo's view(told in The Hobbit) were interesting, and made me wonder at being an elf. Why not a woman of the race of men? Surely, as an elf, my story was more believable, or something of the sort. Or the Valar wanted to screw me over. Definitely option number 2.
The dwarves' tale entertained the hobbits Merry and Pippin and made them laugh. When Gimli started telling of his mighty deeds with his axe and many countless orc and goblin necks, they were purely to entertain. But, as I noticed with an "I knew it" look in my eyes, Boromir's tales were full of his deeds and his effort to impress, but this was something Boromir had drilled into himself as a child and forever more:impress Father, Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, and he will accept you. The Steward's expectations had put too much weight on Boromir's brother, Faramir, and had lowered Faramir in the Steward's eyes. As I knew all too well, Denethor's judgement would forever change not only Faramir's fate, but Boromir's, his own, and quite possible all of Middle-Earth's, for maybe if he wasn't such an old cod, The Battle of the Pelennor Fields may never have happened. "May never happen," I reminded myself sadly in the future tense, all too easily forgetting that I was in Middle-Earth in this wonderful and unreal, yet oddly...real dream.
My attention swerved back to Legolas.
He was eyeing everyone's favorite dwarf of the Fellowship suspiciously and with distaste. Pretending not to notice, I sat down. His eyes snapped towards my face as I spoke, and he relaxed, tense before with a grudge thousands of years old.
"Mellon-nin, what is wrong?" Legolas sat, dumbfounded, confused at my question.
"Nothing. Why?" He glanced at Gimli once more. He continued quietly so that only we could hear. "'Tis a shame that the dwarf is coming along. Who knows how long this journey will go on, and we should be stuck with him all the way."
"Now, Legolas," I replied in the same volume of voice, "Do not underestimate his axe, nor his stoutness of heart. There will be many a countless time when that axe may save you."
"Merilieth! Since when do you defend dwarves?" Legolas looked at me in shock.
"I," I looked at Legolas and gave him a scorching glare. If "Merilieth" didn't like dwarves, then I had to make a good excuse for acting wonky. "do think respect should be afforded to all members of the Company. After all, we shall be travelling with them for many weeks to come."
Legolas smiled warmly at me, and though I had always somewhat fancied Eomer, my insides turned to goo of the jello kind. Our whispers were put behind us, though they rested in my mind. Anything I said wrong could change the story entirely...
I was wearing the boots that were on my feet when I was awake in the theater: they were somewhat elegant, creased in the trendy way, dark-green boots that reached up to my ankles, and looked somewhat elven even, though their material was somewhat worn, yet soft and durable. It was in these familiar objects that I felt a unsmooth and hard lump against the arch of my foot.I reached down, and tried to inconspicuously retrieve it from my right shoe.
I opened my palm under the table, and was surprised to find a ring, a mithril ring, judging from what I knew of mithril, with a forest-green diamond resting in an elegantly formed holder, which resembled a small snowflake, the gem resting inside. The band wound intricately and formed shapes that looked like leaves. Legolas looked over at me and I closed my hand and quickly pretended to be observing my fingernails. Once he turned to talk to Elrond's sons, Elrohir and Elladan, my hand opened and I observed the ring once more.
I slipped it onto the third finger of my right hand. Suddenly, I was aware of the magic in the air, and a little stream of magic colored like my gem wove through the air. No one else seemed to notice, and it followed wherever my attention went.
"A magic ring?" I thought to myself, amazed and bothered. I directed, with much difficulty, the green stream to wind around my wrist, and bid it be raised up. My wrist moved up, not of its own accord, and I was awed.
I tried to hide my confusion, and simply couldn't. Legolas, who had finished his conversation, put a hand on my shoulder. I quickly forgot my ring as Legolas' eyes bore into mine, and my vision blurred in pure paranoia.
"Mellon-nin, what, pray tell, is wrong? You have been acting strangely since you have woken. It is as if you have changed greatly. Your voice is not the same. Has anything happened?" Legolas said, his face one of concern. So this elf knew. The fact that I had no explanation in my mind was shown on my face and Legolas became suspicious in his concerned stare. Uh.
"There is nothing wrong, Legolas. I am not the youngest or most sheltered or innocent of elves, and so have seen many things that are in the world and..." I paused and sighed.
The diversion worked and Legolas turned away. I hoped I did not have to tell him the truth before I woke up. This, though, was a strangely long dream. I usually had dreams that were not this clear, nor long, and definitely not as focused. I dreamed of different things at once, like the ultimate fanfiction crossover. You would think Heathcliff and Cathy would appear due to the movie I was watching. But that didn't happen. And why the heck was everything happening so realistically?
Soon, all retired to the Hall of Fire. Poems and songs came in Elvish to reach my more-sensitive ears. Nervous about singing, I excused myself.
"Do you not wish to come and listen and relax with Elvish art?" Legolas asked, glancing towards the majority of people going to the Hall.
"No. I need a walk in fresh air. Besides, the amount of wine I have consumed is not enough for me to be tired. Abarad," I bid Legolas a farewell.
My feet carried me outside as my blonde companion joined the merrymaking of his friends and kin. I spotted in the distance pipe-smoke from someone smoking. "A man or a dwarf," I thought, since all of the hobbits had gone to the Hall of Fire.
I was right. It was Gimli, son of Gloin. "Better to get to know him now, and not have him all annoyed with me on the Quest," said the dumber part of my brain, and I approached him with a smile, planning out what to say, so I would sound like a stranger elf and not a slang-using human who knew everything about him.
"Hello, Master Dwarf," I sat down besides him, and he stared at me with his pipe askew and his jaw hanging down to the ground. After all, why would an elleth talk to a dwarf? An awkward silence proceeded as the dwarf's eyes narrowed and he puffed furiously on his pipe, still staring at me. I stared back, smiling and trying not to break out in laughter. The smoke was a comforting smell, one of home and hearth.
"And how are you this fine night, Lady Elf?" Gimli asked, regaining his dwarven poise and seriously not helping the fact that my stomach was hurting from keeping back laughter.
"It is a fine night. I am well. How are you, faring amongst us pointy-eared elves, with our baths and our embroidered clothes?" Gimli snorted, and I swore smoke came out.
The red-haired and rubicund dwarf struggled to find his next words, and I think gave up on diplomacy. "You pointy-eared elves put too much emphasis on looks."
I broke then, and bellowed out a loud, unelven-like, heck, unlady-like laugh that made Gimli jump.
"Yes, Master Dwarf, but you have not seen me in the morning. My hair alone would fell a dragon!" I said, laughter, amusement, and cheer in a relatively loud voice: so not elven-like. Oh, why did I ever, ever decide to talk to such a humorous character as the son of Gloin? Maybe I did have too much wine? Or maybe the stress of being a human in an elven body. Whatever the reason behind my outburst, I couldn't stop shaking with laughter afterwards. Man, this dream sure was getting to me.
We sat there, and it seemed to me, that after a long night of passive-faced and relatively emotionless elves, to see one lose her composure must've endeared him to me. Good. Now both he and I could tease each other without the same tension as it would be between him and Legolas.
"Well, lass," said Gimli, tapping his pipe, upside down, against the stone bench to make sure there was nothing smokeable left, "I will be off. Had a long journey here, and all that."
As he left, I gazed at the scenery, taking in Rivendell's trees, architecture, and waterfalls. I sighed contentedly as the sky grew dark and the stars came out. Stars unlike the ones at home. The brightest star, which must have been Earendil with his shining brow, winked and shone brightly next to the moon as I reflected on the happenings of The Silmarillion. A breath of air, filled with moisture and the scent of pine, ruffled my hair and warmed my spirit. Yes, this was not a dream I could forget.
Author's Note:Disclaimer:This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only:I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.