(AN: Finally got to this chapter! I've honestly considered just giving up on a lot of my stories on here. I've already stopped writing all of my original stories on FictionPress because 1] nobody ever reads them, 2] no ideas on continuing them and 3] all the demands for this story and The Dragonborn and the Lioness. And no amount of pleading will save Doctor Who from fizzling out for me. Despite what Capaldi might bring to the show [then again, if Moffat is still in charge, it's still going to be "Friends in space", as one fan criticized], it will still be as pompous, know-it-all and smug as Star Trek the Next Generation. Honestly, he uses gay people as punch-lines and people applaud him for being "open-minded" and "politically correct?" I tolerated it with Jack Harkness because he was the only American and I thought it was just snobby British writers poking fun at Americans [lol, like they need to when Americans are filled with so much self-loathing, we should turn our colors to red, white and black and call ourselves the United States of Emo-ica], but then Vastra...and people were actually getting behind Moffat and supporting his depiction of her. And then, as if to further insult our intelligence, Moffat went and made her blindly and ignorantly believing that the Doctor wouldn't hurt a fly, even though Yog-Sothoth [the Great Intelligence is Lovecraft's Yog-Sothoth, which bugs me even more: is killing Jesus too much of a bore for the Doctor that he now has to kill Lovecraft's gods?] told all the instances where the Doctor was involved in large-scale genocide!)
(And speaking of intelligence insulting, in the episode "Big Bang", Amy literally remembers the Doctor back into existence. Not only that, but everything about the Doctor that has happened before that episode also comes back into existence. She has no clue about the Time War or about the Fourth Doctor and jelly babies, or about any of the other incarnations of the Doctor [like the 8th Doctor, who gets snubbed a LOT, and I actually liked him], or about Rose, Martha, Donna, NONE of that! And yet those things get 'thought up' into existence by proxy of her remembering the Doctor back into existence. How did the TARDIS remember Rose, Martha and Donna as the Doctor's companions in "Let's Kill Hitler"? How does "The Name of the Doctor", or for that matter "The Day of the Doctor", work at all? And what about regeneration? Amy didn't know that: how could she think that back into the Doctor's anatomy?)
(Ugh, I'm sorry. I really needed to get that out there. "Well if you hate it so much, why do you watch it?" you may ask. I didn't want to start watching Doctor Who, having seen the trailers back in Tennant's days and thinking it was a shallow space soap opera [unaware of its lengthy - older than the original series of Star Trek - history]. Then it was recommended to me by a friend, but I wanted to know if Tennant was a real actor and not just a pretty face like Hayden Christensen, Henry Cavill or, since this story is about Lord of the Rings, Orlando Bloom. I saw Tennant in Hamlet and he performed very well, so I went into Doctor Who confident that he could act and became a fan. [first episode I ever saw was "The Parting of the Ways", and that was just the tail end, before I made the decision to watch Doctor Who]. I'll give Capaldi a chance because, being both a fan and a talented actor, he could do well [he won't be going around saying "f*** you Daleks!" every two seconds like Malcolm Tucker]: it's usually the fans who do the series justice - like Adywan with his stellar re-edit of the Star Wars movies - but then again, you get your Lord of the Rings fans and I have to go and make something as silly as this story.)
(Lol, now I'm done! Enjoy)
The Impossible Girl's Plan
"Are you well, girl?" a kindly voice asked.
For a moment, Clara thought it was the Doctor, awake from his 'coma', but the voice was very old. She turned and saw a bent old man leaning on a staff approaching her. He looked (and smelled) like a homeless man with scraggly gray hair, shabby gray robes and a long gray beard. But when she looked into his eyes - keen and blue beneath bushy white eyebrows - she sensed in him the same kind of presence as the Doctor, though possibly more restrained.
"Of course I am," she replied swiftly. "Why do you ask?"
"You haven't slept since you arrived," the old man said. "You've stood outside this room, sometimes falling asleep against the door at night."
"The Doctor's inside," she said, gesturing to the door. "He hasn't come out yet."
"Ah, the Doctor," the old man said knowingly.
"You know him?"
"Yes, I would say so," the old man replied, nodding his head and stroking his long beard pensively. "Of those who still walk under the sun in the East of Middle Earth, I am counted among those few who truly know anything about him, which as a rule is very little. He caused quite a bit of mischief in the West, which the Elves have not forgotten."
"So why did they let him come here to Rivendell?" Clara asked. "Why did Elrond agree to attend him?"
"Because he knows, as I do, and as do many of the great Elf-lords here in Rivendell," the old man explained. "What a terrible tragedy it would be if the one they call Furaedhil fell under the Enemy's sway."
"Why does it matter?" Clara asked again. "Why do the Elves hate him so much?"
"That may yet be brought forth at the Council of Elrond, which shall convene on the morrow," the old man answered.
"Can I come?"
"It is a secret council," the old man said.
"Gandalf, please," she interjected, speaking his name - which she rightly guessed when she saw him. "It's very important that I attend this council meeting."
"I cannot vouch for you," he said. "You must ask the Doctor, though I doubt whether they will be open to having him be at this meeting either."
"How is that fair?" Clara asked, but the wizard shook his head and turned away, walking down the stairs and away from the door. Just then the door was opened and out strode the Doctor, a smile on his face and joy in his small, beady eyes.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Just a bit of primitive Elvish surgery and I'm right as rain. Oh, not entirely right as rain, though..." The Doctor reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out his favorite dark violet bow-tie and tied it about his neck. "There. That's better."
"You're mad, Doctor," Clara stated.
"Well, thank goodness for that, then," the Doctor replied with a cheeky grin. "So, October 24th, 3018, probably..." He licked his finger and held it up, as if checking the direction of the wind. "...yes, definitely ten o'clock in the morning. Council of Elrond is meeting tomorrow, that should be fun to sit in on."
"You mean we can go," she added.
"Of course we can," the Doctor replied with a grin. "Trust me."
Clara and the Doctor wandered about Rivendell for the rest of that afternoon, taking in the sights and sounds of the valley in autumn, all gold and orange. Sometimes they talked about their adventures, though they felt more at ease here than doing so in the wilds, at other times they merely walked together in quiet thought. When their minds both drifted to food, they found themselves going to one place where they found the Hobbits gathered and eating. They shared board with them and then continued wandering about Rivendell, the Doctor pointing out some of the noteworthy things to be seen.
When it was evening at last, they relaxed out in the open under the stairs. The Doctor reclined against a long, cushioned bench, while Clara lay upon it and tried to guess the stars she could see in the night sky above them. With the chill of mid-autumn in the air, the Doctor gave her his jacket while he rested, playing with his non-responsive sonic screw-driver.
By morning, they were both up, with Clara feeling more refreshed than she had ever felt in any bed in her native London, or even in the TARDIS' sleeping quarters. The Doctor took her by the hand and led her through many of the ways they had traversed the previous day. But just as Clara was about to ask, he led her down a different corridor and they came into a small courtyard, open to the morning air. There several chairs were arranged in a circle around a stone table. As soon as their footsteps were heard by those gathered, all eyes turned towards them. Frodo was there, and he looked up but said nothing. The Elves whispered softly to themselves in their own tongue, until at last Elrond addressed the Doctor.
"You were not invited to this secret gathering, Furaedhil," he said. "By what right do you trespass here?"
"Well, for fun really," he replied. "But I feel that I should have some voice in this. Let someone with an ounce of reason be present at these proceedings."
"Ever has Furaedhil sought to confound the councils of the Wise," Glorfindel stated. "And bring discord to harmony."
"Not this time," the Doctor stated.
"Shall we trust the words of a liar and a deceiver?" Glorfindel asked.
"He should be evicted at once!" another Elf added. "For all we know, he is a spy for the Enemy!"
"He who says that would be a fool, Galdor," Aragorn stated. "Even if he were so great a lord as yourself. The Doctor has aided Frodo and his companions in our arrival to this place, myself included. Furthermore, he has been assaulted by the Enemy trying to defend us. There is no truce between him and our Enemy. I will vouch for his place on this council."
"The Doctor's not a spy!" Clara spoke up.
"And who is this foolish little child?" another Elf asked. "Why does Furaedhil dishonor us by bring children to this secret council?"
"Hey! I'm not a child!" Clara interjected.
At this, the Elf laughed. "Foolish child! Even the oldest of your grey-beards are as children to the children of the Eldar."
"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn added. "She is the Doctor's traveling companion. Their fates are tied to that of the Ring, which is chief of the matters at hand in this council."
"That's Legolas?" Clara whispered to the Doctor, gesturing to the fair-haired Elf who had called her a foolish child. "Why is such an arse?"
"All Elves are like that one way or another," the Doctor added as an aside.
"My lord Elrond," a voice spoke up. Both Clara and the Doctor turned their attention to the man who spoke. He was not as tall as Aragorn, but he had shoulder-length dark hair like him, a short beard and was built strongly with broad shoulders and wide arms hidden beneath his surcoat.
"Since my lords know much about this newcomer," he said, gesturing to the Doctor. "Perhaps they would condescend to share this knowledge with those who know him not."
"So it shall be, Boromir, son of Denethor," Elrond said. "This man, if man he truly is, calls himself Doctor, a word of healing and help and counsel in the Common Tongue. In the Elder tongue, he is known as Furaedhil, a man of deception, lies, cunning and trickery. More than that I cannot say."
"If I may add something, Master Elrond," old Gandalf said, rising from his seat. "While it is known among the Wise of the treachery and woe that have been wrought by this one, called Furaedhil among the Elder kin, he has not been without his uses. He may yet have something of value to contribute to this council, and so I will vouch for his place among us."
"As will I," Aragorn added.
Clara saw that none of the Elves were happy about this, but Elrond conceded to allow them to be part of the council. But then it began and Clara soon realized that none of this was similar to what she had experienced in the movies. First a Dwarf she had never seen or heard of before called Gloin began talking about a trip to Moria by Balin which was never heard from again, then an ambassador from Mordor arriving at a place called Erebor. Then Elrond began talking about a bunch of things which she could only barely remember from the movie or really didn't care about at all. It was at this point she began to doze off when suddenly...
"Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"
Whoever spoke those words sounded like some hideous and frightful alien, the worst of which she had ever encountered in her travels with the Doctor. It shook her out of her stupor of boredom like a gunshot. All the Elves about her were quivering in fear or holding their hands over their ears. The Doctor, of course, seemed rather unaffected by this. Then she saw Gandalf standing up from among the council as the darkness which had fallen - had they talked/she had slept for that long? - was fading and afternoon returned.
"Never before has any voice dared to utter the words of that Tongue here in Imladris, Gandalf the Grey," Elrond said, a condescending tone in his voice, as though he spoke to one who, in a brief moment of madness, showed a great desire for power that would be the undoing of them all.
"And let us hope," said Gandalf, and he spoke in the voice of a weary, haggard old man, with no malice or evil in his tone. "That none will ever speak it here again. Nonetheless, I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for if the Black Speech of Mordor is not soon to be heard in every corner of the West, then let all put doubt aside that this is indeed that what the Wise have declared: the treasure of the Enemy, frought with all his malice and in it lies a great part of his strength of old. Out of the Black Years come the words which the smiths of Eregion heard and they knew that they had been betrayed.
"'One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them, one Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.'"
Clara started to zone out as Gandalf went on about Gollum, though she could not remember where that came from. Even when Legolas told about the escape of Gollum, she could not long hold her attention. By the time Gandalf began his tale of the treachery of Saruman, she had fallen asleep on the Doctor's shoulder again. Suddenly there was a nudge on her shoulder.
"Ow!" Clara exclaimed, turning to the Doctor. "What the bloody hell was that for?"
"You wanted to be here, didn't you?" he asked. "The Council of Elrond? You've slept through most of it!"
"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.
"I have," the Doctor added.
"As I was saying," Gandalf continued. "We have come no nearer to the purpose of this Council: here is the Ring, what then shall we do with it?"
There was a great silence, though Clara did not seem to be paying attention to what Elrond said regarding Frodo's tale, which she had also slept through. The Hobbit, it seemed, made little to no mention of the Doctor and so Elrond did not mention him.
"If I may speak, Master Elrond," Glorfindel spoke up. "It seems clear to my mind that if we cannot keep this Ring from the Enemy by force, two things only remain for us to attempt: to send it over the sea...or destroy it."
"But Gandalf has revealed to us," Elrond said. "That the Ring cannot be destroyed by any craft that we here possess. And they that dwell beyond the Sea will not receive it: for good or ill, it belongs to Middle Earth. It is for us who still dwell here to deal with us."
"Then let us cast it into the deep," Glorfindel added. "And thus make the lies of Saruman come true. In the Sea it would be safe."
"Not safe forever," Gandalf answered. "There are many things in the deep waters, and seas and lands may change. And it is not our part here to take thought only for a season, or for a few lives of men, or for a passing of an age of the world. We should seek a final end for this menace, even if we do not live to make one."
"My heart tells me," said one of the Elves, though Clara forgot which one. "That Sauron will expect us to take the Western way, when he learns what has befallen. He soon will. Only the waining might of Gondor now stands between him and a straight march in power along the coast into the North. And if he comes, assailing the White Towers in the Havens, hereafter the Elves may have no escape from the lengthening shadows of Middle Earth."
Boromir said something, but Clara was starting to zone out again, since none of this was familiar and it seemed, to her overly clever mind, that they were just going around in circles. But the Doctor nudged her shoulder again and she awoke.
"It seems to me now clear which is the road we must take," said Elrond. "The Western road seems easiest, therefore it must be shunned. It will be watched. Too often the Elves have fled that way. Now at this last we must make a hard road, a road unforeseen. There lies our hope, if hope it be: to walk into peril, to Mordor. We must send the Ring into the fire."
"I agree!" Clara spoke up. This was her moment, the moment she had been waiting for. Now she would make her plan.
"And who are you," Legolas asked. "Who have slept so sluggardly in the midst of the Council of the Wise?"
"I've been asking myself that very same question," the Doctor added as an aside.
"My name is Clara Oswin Oswald," she said. "And I'm here to save you all from a terrible mistake."
"And what mistake would that be, child?" Glorfindel asked.
"You want to destroy the Ring, that's good," she said. "Destroy the Ring and you destroy Sauron. But there's an easier way to get the job done. Use the Eagles. They've been helping you since Gandalf and the Dwarves came this way! If you could carry the Ring-bearer over the mountains of Mordor, right up to the very heart of Mount Doom, you could drop the Ring into the fire and destroy Sauron, and save Middle Earth."
At this, both Boromir and Legolas burst forth into laughter. One of the Dwarves - Clara couldn't guess, they both looked so alike with their gnarled faces and their huge beards - joined in with them.
"That, child, is most improbable!" Glorfindel added. "Many weapons and slaves the Enemy has at his disposal. We know not what evils he has in store in the land of Shadow. Those mountains may be guarded."
"But they're not," she said. "And the only thing he does have are flying dragon-things. They're no match for the Eagles."
Boromir laughed again. "Do you hear this child's story? It's ridiculous!"
"You have to believe me!" Clara said. "A lot of people are going to die if you don't do this!"
"Miss Oswald," Gandalf said. "As one who has spoken with Gwahir, I know that the Eagles serve no masters, whether in the East or West, man, Elf, Dwarf or wizard. They have come to the aid of Thorin and the Company previously, but that was only because their paths have crossed ours when hunting orcs. Their involvement in the Battle of the Five Armies was a mere coincidence, and both myself and Bard and Thranduil and Beorn had to convince Gwahir not to turn on our armies and destroy them as well once the goblins were routed."
"That's rubbish," Clara said.
"You would put to scorn the wisdom of Gandalf so lightly?" Aragorn asked.
"And why not?" the Doctor asked. "Always question what they tell you, that's what I've always said."
"Does that council also include your own deceptive words, Furaedhil?" Glorfindel asked.
"Ever has he mocked Cirdan and the Lords of the West," added one of the Elves. "To the promotion of his own twisted notions of right and wrong."
"Enough!" Elrond said firmly. "You have not been brought here only to tax your ears by vain discord. Gandalf speaks wisdom. The Eagles of Manwe are free of themselves. They do not serve any masters, good or evil, and they would not be forced by any means to be burdened by the Ring."
"Greater still would our peril be," Gandalf added. "If they were to become corrupted by the Ring. For they are great in their own power, and their hatred of the orcs and goblins is greater still. If that Ring were in their power, then all the lands, from the Lonely Mountain to the Grey Havens, from here in Rivendell even to the White Tower of Gondor and the Black Land of Mordor, would be under their tyranny."
"That's rubbish," Clara said. "We don't know if it would corrupt them. We should send a delegation to their...nests and ask them to take the Ring to Mordor."
"Ever you speak of hiding and destroying the Ring," Boromir spoke up. "And this is your best strategy? The foolish dreams of a child who has not even seen a real battle! You, Gandalf, you spoke of the treachery of Saruman, but did he not have even a shred of wisdom? Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need? Wielding it, the lords of the Free People will surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he fears the most, I deem. The men of Gondor are valiant and will never submit, though they may be beaten down. Valor needs strength first and then a weapon. Let the Ring be your weapon, if it has as much power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory!"
"Alas, no," said Elrond. "We cannot use the Ruling Ring, that we now know too well. It belongs to Sauron, it was made by him alone and is all together evil." He went on, but Clara seemed frustrated that the Doctor did not rise up to her defense. She felt ashamed that she was still standing, yet she just had to make them see reason. After a while, Clara sat back down next to the Doctor and whispered to him.
"We need to stop this madness," she said. "Do you know where the Eagles are?"
"Yes, but..."
"Good, let's go," she said.
"Well, wait, now?" he asked.
"Do you have a better idea? Come on then, chin boy!"
(AN: As far as the movies go, I feel about Peter Jackson's movies pretty much the same way that Star Wars fans feel about George Lucas: great films but he ruined them! By far they're better than those cheesy 70s cartoons [i don't care if half the world thinks they're "amazing" and "so much better than PJ's films", they were boring, which is NOT a fair representation of Lord of the Rings to a film audience], but compared to the books, yeah, Peter Jackson's movies fall short. From "little" mistakes like giving Merry and Pippin Elvish daggers [which would not have made the Witch-king mortal at the Battle of Pelennor Fields], to having Elves show up at the Battle of Helm's Deep, to those heinous character mistakes like making Frodo a liar ["There was no other"], Aragorn a coward ["I do not want that power. I have never wanted it."], Arwen a heinous Mary-Sue ["If you want him, etc."] and Faramir a complete douche-bag ["The Ring will go to Gondor"]. As an alternative to the movie, I'd much rather spend a month reading a book than watching a boring cartoon which butchers the language, cuts out way more than Peter Jackson did and is just hideous to behold. Like the only thing I remember about that movie, despite it being really long and really slow-paced, lending to the boring aspect, was how dark and featureless it was. I mean, if you're going to make magic be all bright lights and sparkles, why does the rest of your world look like somebody's bad acid trip? Also, in the book, the Council wasn't a bunch of unimportant, faceless dignitaries which resorted into anarchy before Frodo suddenly flew in to save the day. But, thanks to the Doctor, that is what is has become in this story.)
(-sigh- My laptop is dead, I'm in the midst of huge personal problems and probably won't be able to sign up for next semester of college. Please just lay off! I can't update any of my stories, I can't even work on any of my music, and I'm still sick so I can't find work. I'll try to update as soon as possible, but please don't review on my stories and beg me to update when I can't.)
