Hi all, the next instalment has arrived! Thank you so much for the reviews so far and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 3: Lessons in Diplomacy

When Dale arrived at the Council—having found the meeting room with some difficulty—she hovered in a room full of strangers, uncertain of what to do. She opted for standing at the edge of the room, content to observe the men, elves and dwarves gathered in small groups conversing quietly, along with a foreign smell of a creature she had never come by before. Their faces were solemn, knowing that this was a meeting of great import. Some glanced her way with puzzled frowns, but continued with their conversation. Their proud bearings and (mostly) refined speech, marked them as people of importance. The gathering of leaders of all the races who had joined to fight against Sauron made her even more curious as to the subject of the council. She noticed that mostly they stayed within groups of their race, although some made an effort with others. The ranger, for example, who, although smelling like a human, the wolf could distinctly scent the difference in his blood. Most humans' blood had a coppery, bitter smell; rangers smelled slightly sweeter. Currently the ranger was with a group of elves, listening to the conversation. Perhaps it was the wrinkles at his eyes, or the way the elves treated him almost as one of their own, but there was a wiseness to him, a sense of timelessness, that made Dale wonder how old he really was.

There was a huddle of men standing near her. One of them drained his goblet and held it out to her negligibly. She stared dumbfounded. He had shoulder-length red hair and stubble ringed his chin and upper lip. When she didn't take the cup, the man glanced at her with a frown. Dale recovered herself and plastered a sweet smile on her face. "I'm sorry, did you want me to spit in it?"

Disgruntled, the man turned to face her, but Elrond's timely appearance rescued the situation as he motioned for everyone to take their seats. She found herself sitting between the old man and the elves.

He began to explain the purpose of the council, and it did not surprise Dale that it's purpose was to address the threat of Mordor. Some were nodding their heads in agreement with his words.

A small, stout creature, whom the wolf identified the foreign small belonged to, stepped forward. As he placed an object on the central table, Dale felt the sense of a growing presence, whispers brushing against the edge of her consciousness. Her eyes were riveted to the creature's hand, where the object lay behind it. The presence urged her to look, to touch. The creature pulled his hand away.

Something within Dale lurched. Her focus was completely on the ring, which seemed to be made from the purest gold and shone with an almost divine light. It was perfect.

Then it was all laid out to her: this ring would lead her to Douka, it would enable her people to rise to prominence for the first time. Its beauty would be used to unite her people; its power wielded to protect them.

She did not hear the protests of the man who had mistaken her for a maid, nor did she notice Gandalf speaking in the tongue of Mordor, although she felt a ripple of power emanate from the ring as he spoke it. The sight of the dwarf being flung across the room, which she might have found funny, escaped her, and the sinking tension between the elves and the dwarves went unheeded. She was being sucked into a void that she did not necessarily want to come out of. She continued to stare at the ring, it's gold shining so brightly…

A firm grip on her shoulder pulled Dale from her trance. She growled, snapping her teeth. Raised voices perforated her senses and she glanced sharply around. The old man whom she had bumped into a few days ago had leant on her shoulder to get up, but as soon as she noticed this he was walking away, his own voice joining the growing argument. She bared her fangs at him which, although human sized, were sharper than average. Her senses burned. Dale glanced at the ring again, but looked away, shying away from the effect it had had on her before.

There was now an empty space between her and the short creature. It stood up, crying, "I will take it!"

The woman had no idea what he was talking about, but the shouting was making her already-sensitive ears begin to burn, and she knew that if she did not put a stop to this the tender strings of control she had left would snap.

"Silence!" She barked, in time for the creature to cry out once more, "I will take it!" in the ensuing quiet.

"I will take the ring to Mordor," he continued. "Though…I do not know the way."

Dale watched, deep in thought, as members of the council volunteered to help. She knew, instinctively, that this was the ring of Sauron, the One Ring, and from that it the purpose of the council became clear. That the creature, who seemed to spearhead this movement despite his seeming insignificance, was the first to volunteer showed tremendous courage, she noted. She shook her head at the impossible odds.

Yet she also noticed the way that, despite this, the common purpose of destroying the ring seemed to unite these very different races who only a few moments ago had been arguing.

"What say you, Dale?" Elrond's question interrupted her thoughts and the woman glanced up from her brooding. Five of the council stood beside the creature, watching her expectantly.

"I see your purpose in summoning me to this council. You think that, if Callon and Rine are seeking this ring, perhaps Douka is seeking it, too? You think that if not, it is likely that she is dead, and that there is no point to my search." Dale paused, a wry smile twisting the corner of her lips. "Perhaps you also think that my…skill set will be helpful on the quest."

Elrond inclined his head.

One of the men stepped forward. "What does a woman know of this matter?"

There was silence as the party glanced back at Dale for her response. It was the same one who had mistaken her for a maid. Dale stood up to her full height, which was tall for a woman, although no taller than the men standing before her. She eyed him slowly, from his face, to his shoulder-length hair, down his body, taking in his leather jerkin fitting tightly across his broad chest and expensive, though well-used, clothes, all the way down his muscular legs to his boots. She sauntered forward, her gaze travelling upwards, and by the time she stood before him, she looked back at his face. His eyes scorched. She very deliberately raised one eyebrow. "What does a man know of this matter?"

The tension was thick as they continued to glare at each other. Dale felt the corner of her lips twitch, knowing she had caught the upper hand. His gaze flickered to catch the movement, but immediately returned to her face.

The old man cleared his throat. "I think that there is more to this young woman than meets the eye."

Dale stepped back and nodded to him in thanks. She cast her eyes over the motley group, who returned her gaze with equal curiosity. She came to a decision. "I am Dale, daughter of Hane of the Ruénen. I will run with you…Frodo, not only to find my friends, but to see this quest to it's fruition." She bowed deeply, a sense of the importance of the moment overcoming her.

That was the moment when more small creatures leapt from the bushes, announcing their participation in the quest.

The following weeks were spent preparing for the quest, and much of Dale's time was spent with the hobbits (which she struggled to pronounce at first, her accent thickening when she tried to pronounce the 't' and the 's' together), advising them on what to pack and getting to know them. The latter was the same for other members of the fellowship, although Gimli's patronising attitude and Boromir's icy treatment of her grated on Dale's nerves. She also spent much time in the library, reading about their route and, out of a vain interest, finding out what was written about the Ruénen. It pleased her pride that very little but story and myth was known of them.

So it was that when the time came, Dale was sorry to leave Rivendell. She had dreaded arriving and she had dreaded leaving. But the prospect of being out in the open country, bare to the elements, appealed to her, for her skin was beginning to itch. The wolf within her was growing restless.

What do you think? Please R&R! The next chapter will be posted sometime next week.