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The White Council

Legolas arrived early in the garden above the high bank of the river where the council would be held. There were set many chairs beneath the porch where a few folk were already gathered. Elrond was there, sitting in his raised chair with his long chin in his hand, frowning at some thought. Around him were sitting his counselors; Elves that

Legolas had not yet met. The wood elf hesitated, feeling suddenly awkward.

Their eyes were upon him and he knew what they saw… a tall lean Elf clad in woodland

colours, so different from their somber and rich garment, unique and colourful as autumn leaves. Legolas's face was not full of light nor was it lined with wisdom or bitterness. His eyes were blue as mountain lakes; theirs were grey and full of weight, ponderous with ageless thought. He met their eyes with level regard, and found himself adrift in grey mists.

Legolas did not understand the desire of the Elves who wished to depart Middle-earth.

Wood Elves felt a great love for their homes and could envision no other place grander.

The trees of Mirkwood spoke to them, provided shelter, food, security and even love... before Legolas came to Rivendell his entire world had been the Forest.

Yet now, he had been given a glimpse of light and stone and history and he wondered if somehow his vision of the world might not be broadened. These Elves he saw now and the ones he sat with in the Hall last night, they were deep and high and their souls shone out through their faces. But some were cold and hard as the statues of marble that warded the gardens, and others were bright and hot and burning with will. They knew tales as old as the shaping of the lands, remembering when other lands lay over them. They had seen change and destruction and the passage of Time did not erode their memories, but made all the history between seem extraneous. They no longer desired to learn; they had no direction in which to grow.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly. He turned and found a face of a friend beside him, and his feelings of alienation vanished. Glorfindel was there, a friend of many seasons, mentor and counselor, ally and brother. Legolas had known him all his life. At one time, Glorfindel had often come to Mirkwood and had himself taught Legolas the use of the bow when he was but a stripling. Though he was older than the wood elf by immeasurable years, they felt a kinship to each other as if they were siblings. Glorfindel had a mischievous streak that Legolas rather believed only he and a very few others had witnessed.

"Thranduilion," said Glorfindel, taking his arm in a strong grip. The cold glances of the High Elves lost their sharpness; they saw no longer a strange, nervous Elf but a prince and an ambassador. They turned and resumed their conversations.

Legolas was delighted and relieved; here was the friend he had missed. "Heru nen Glorfindel. Mae govannen, otorno. I wonder how I can have been in Rivendell for three days and not yet seen you." They clasped arms in a greeting of equals, and as they spoke together, Legolas perceived in his friend a shadow of deep concern that lay upon him. This shadow hung over all the members of the council in varying degrees.

And as they were speaking, the Dwarven party arrived. Legolas felt the Elves stir with ill-ease, and new tension charged the air. Elrond stood and greeted the Dwarves, asking them to sit and be welcome. In his face alone Legolas saw no resentment or distrust. It made him question his own feelings toward Dwarves in general.

He turned to offer a greeting of his own, to extend a hand of friendship, but he was stopped cold by the grim countenances of the dwarves, beards knotted and brows knit. They stared with open dislike and arrogance at the gathered Elves. Each face was an un-scalable barrier of stone.

He saw Gimli trailing his father, his eyes avoiding those of the Elves. Legolas thought he saw a flicker of the old humour in him, but it was hidden away quickly. The younger dwarf followed Glóin to their seats and the dwarves all sat clustered together, defensive posture in the midst of many enemies. It was as though a door had been slammed shut in his face.

Glorfindel's hand on his shoulder eased him, and he accepted the seat he offered. Glorfindel placed himself between Gimli and Legolas, and Legolas suddenly wondered if he knew about their little 'argument' in the meadow yesterday. A small grin creased his lips, and glancing up he caught that smile echoed on Gimli's bearded face. The Dwarf quickly frowned and scowled when he saw the Elf watching him. Legolas schooled his features to blandness, but his heart was lighter.

More folk were arriving to attend the council. Some men from Erebor and Rhovannion came and placed themselves near the Dwarves, looking in wonder at the other folk present. Legolas nodded to one or two familiar faces, unsure if they were the Men he remembered or their sons who wore their likenesses. He noted that Aragorn had appeared and seated himself in a corner, dressed again in his worn Ranger gear. Legolas offered him a brief smile. If one did not know that cavalier, he thought, those dark clothes would make Aragorn look positively sinister.

Elrond was speaking softly to Erestor when he paused, turning his head to observe the entrance of a strangely garbed man. Legolas followed his regard.

He had a noble face, this man, sun-touched and weathered with eyes brilliant and sharp. His hair was light-coloured and long, shorn about his broad shoulders. His arms were roped with strength and he carried his gear and himself easily and with grace; he was tall and confident. His garments had been rich once, but were now stained with travel and weather. Steel rings were his tunic and skirt, covered by a coat of royal design and colour, broidered with gold but faded and torn. He wore a mighty sword and his gear was finely wrought.

Elrond rose from his chair and said, "Welcome, Son of Denethor. The White Council will begin very soon. We are waiting now only for a few late arrivals. You come in good time to share your tidings."

The Man bowed toward Elrond. "My name is Boromir. Legends of your wisdom and foresight are well remembered in my country, Lord Elrond. I have just arrived upon your doorstep, and I am told that I am expected in council! Had I not been unhorsed at Tharbad, I should have arrived many days ago. It would seem that Providence has moved us where it would… if I were one to believe in such things as Fate and Providence." He removed his heavy cloak and unstrapped the thick belt that bound his sword to his side. Elrond signaled for an ingénue to bring refreshments for the road-weary man. "In truth, my lord, I think my words would be better heard in privacy, rather than flogged before the ears of all where secrets are lost and wisdom diluted." And his eyes rested upon the dark ranger sitting in the corner.

Elrond gestured to an empty seat. "Lord Boromir, secrecy serves its purposes, but some tidings are of no use to any if not shared by all. I have some knowledge of your errand and of the plight of your country. I bid you sit and listen, and to speak, when it is time for you to do so. Your father will wish to hear what will be aired before this council."

Boromir nodded and took the seat, but he did not look pleased. He gave everyone in the room a measuring glance, his eyes coming to meet Legolas's. The wood elf nodded toward him slowly; a warrior's acknowledgment of an equal. The man's gaze wandered back to Aragorn, and he sat and frowned, studying the ranger's features and wondering where he had seen him before.

Legolas spared a glance at Gimli, seeing that the Dwarf had also noted the exchange between the ranger and the warrior. He leaned over and whispered something into Glóin's ear in a language Legolas could not understand. His bright eyes caught Legolas looking at him. He raised an eyebrow and tightened his hand around his axe-handle. Legolas could not tell if he was angry or amused.

Now almost all were present, but for three empty seats on Elrond's left hand. Gandalf arrived as the bells were pealing overhead and at his elbow walked Frodo Baggins. The hobbit was a little anxious to be appearing before so many strange folk. He nodded tentatively to those who he knew, and Elrond introduced him to the faces he had not met.

Legolas's heart was glad to see the halfling so recovered, and he took note of him as he stood before the council. His eyes were a deep blue of summer skies, large and expressive. He was no more in height than a child of nine years measured by mortal standards, but he has wisdom and wit in his glance, and sobriety in his stance. He bowed to each person as they were introduced to him, and when Elrond spoke Legolas's name, Frodo turned his eyes toward the wood elf. Summer sky to mountain lake; they regarded one other and Legolas offered him his most gracious bow. Frodo smiled and whispered to Bilbo who stood beside him words that Legolas could plainly hear, "Doesn't 'legolas' translate to 'greenleaf' from the Elvish?"

The older halfling nodded his head, and he glanced at the Elf for a long moment as if drawing him from a memory. Bilbo's face grew a touch reddened as he remembered where he had seen the wood elf before, and his hand fumbled unconsciously at his waistcoat pocket. Legolas also noticed the third halfling that crept into the garden and sat down against the wall behind Frodo, as silent as a shade.

Elrond began to speak, and everyone paid him all attention. The White Council began, and many folk stood and delivered messages, asked questions, offered news from every corner of the world. Legolas listened carefully to what was said, and he watched the faces of the speakers. He found little hope and much fear in them, and the weight of his own burden of tidings grew slowly.

Glóin stood and began to speak of the black messenger from Mordor. Legolas heard him with increasing dread. Lonely Mountain was very close to his father's kingdom; any war that occurred there would easily spill over into the trees. The more he listened to the Dwarf the hotter his heart grew. Why had there been no message of this to his father? Had not the Elves of Mirkwood aided the folk of the Mountain at need? Resentment flared in his heart.

Then his eyes rested on Frodo's face again. The halfling looked frightened but it was fear for his uncle that he wore, for Glóin's message warned Bilbo that the Dark Lord was searching for him. Legolas saw Frodo lift his hand and touch his breast, an endearing gesture of concern… or was it?

Darkness stirred beneath the surface of his perception. Legolas stiffened, aware of a pressure that was delivered by no hand or air. It seemed to all the Elves that something had drifted across the bright sun, and a sudden chill filled their hearts.

Elrond stood and his presence was a breath of calm air over the restless Elves. The shadow retreated and the bright sun returned. He began to tell the tale of the Ring from the beginning, and the morning shadows shrank as he spoke.

Presently, Bilbo took up the tale, apologizing before he began to those friends present if his tale was now slightly different from the one he had before described. Legolas heard anew the story of the Quest for Erebor, and when Bilbo described the events in Mirkwood, he glossed rather quickly over the details of their stay in Thranduil's kingdom. Legolas hid his smile in his hand.

Gimli had been watching the wood elf as the morning wore away. This council was full of news and no mistake, but he did not need his eyes to hear and he visited Legolas discreetly as words were bandied around him. He noted every flush and every smirk, and felt anger growing within him again. The audacity of this Elf, to grin as Bilbo described the imprisonment of the dwarves in dark dungeons! Gimli thumbed the edge of his axe, thinking of the things he could do when next he found himself alone with that Elf in an empty field!

After Bilbo finished speaking, Elrond bade Frodo tell his tale. Gimli left off his ire and harkened carefully, for this was a tale that had not been heard before. When all was told, the Dwarf sat back in amaze, his respect for the frail-looking halfling before him increased ten-fold, and also for the dark silent ranger that lurked behind the listeners. That they had survived such dangers and come through all still alive… it would have seemed without hope!

The man from the south had some doubts still, and he spoke defensively about his country, urging all to continue to place their hope in the strength of Gondor. He was proud and bold, and Gimli thought that, if every Man in the south were of the mind and body of this one, then there might be hope in fighting indeed. But Gandalf now stood, and he spoke a tale that wove through all the words that had been spoken that day, binding the stories into one great tale, and Gimli felt his vain hopes bleed from him again.

Boromir spoke when the Wizard paused, asking after the wretched traitor that had brought news to he Dark One of the halfling who 'stole' his 'precious'; what had happened to him? Gandalf said that he was held prisoner by the Elves of Mirkwood.

The wood elf stood swiftly, his face twisted with distress. He cried, "Now I must tell my tidings, and only here do I learn how evil they may seem. The creature Sméagol who is now called Gollum, has escaped!"

Legolas was horrified. All the possible evil deeds that this beast might perform now rested on his head. He was responsible, perhaps not directly, but he felt it was so, nonetheless. He confessed the details of the event that had led to Sméagol's departure, his heart stricken as he told of the slain guards he had found and the footprints of the orcs. He had followed them swiftly, but learned only that Sméagol had managed to elude his rescuers as well as his captors, and disappeared near to Dol Guldur.

Glóin stirred restlessly as the wood elf spoke, and retorted angrily when Legolas reported his merciful attitude toward the wretched creature. Gimli shared his father's heat and was then stunned as Glóin bowed contritely when Gandalf refuted him for his interruption. The insult rankled the young Dwarf, and he grumbled into his beard.

Gandalf continued his tale, waving the Elf to his seat. Glorfindel laid a hand on Legolas's shoulder, but little comfort did he draw from that contact. The blue piercing eyes of the halfling stabbed him, and he wondered what evil would come from his mercy.

Now debate raged about proofs; how can we tell if this is in fact the One, and no other? Elrond bade Frodo take out the Ring and show it to the council. Silence opened in the garden, and the halfling's hands were trembling as he reached into the throat of his tunic and drew out a chain that encircled his neck. On it hung a simple gold band that sparkled in the bright sun.

The reaction of the council was remarkable. Elrond and Gandalf both looked away from the Ring, studying instead the faces and reaction of those around them. Bilbo covered his eyes, refusing to look upon it again. Aragorn caressed the hilt of his sword, and his eyes were fixed on Boromir's face.

The man from the south was staring at the Ring; wonder had entered his face and sudden hope. Legolas noticed his sharp regard, and he saw the man hunger for the strength he thought he could wield to win the coming war. The Elf looked at the shining Ring and saw not strength, but deception.

The world dilated suddenly, and Frodo became the hub with the Ring at its centre. On his right hand stood Elrond and on his left was Mithrandir. To Legolas's eyes a triangle appeared. With Elvish sight, he perceived three powers poised in suspension: air and fire, with a black abyss between. The garden and the river and everyone else vanished except for those three points; shimmering spirits brighter than sun or moon, even the small body of the halfling glowed with light extraordinary. Legolas passed a hand over his eyes, and the tableau vanished.

Elrond was speaking again, making plain the choices as he perceived them. He urged the council to consider destroying the Ring, for while he saw no hope in success, he saw less in other paths. After some more argument and debate, empty voices in Legolas's ears harping that which had already been made clear, the question was put forth:

Who would take the Ring to Mount Doom?