Frodo sat, observing the table around himself. A feast, the likes of which he'd never seen before, lay in front of him in a magnificent spread that seemed to go on forever. And for the whole length of the table, in every available space, a smiling faces laughed as they dined and enjoyed each other's company. Such was eating at the table of the Lord Elrond.
Beside Frodo sat Sam, but otherwise, he was surrounded by acquaintances. The hobbit glanced up and down the table searching for more of his friends. At Elrond's right hand sat Gandalf, and to his left, Glorfindel sat in all his high elven splendor. Beside Gandalf, Strider reclined while they seemed to be buried in deep discussion. Pippin and Merry were about halfway down the opposite side of the table, but Shadow was nowhere to be found. Frodo had only seen the Jedi once since he'd awakened. There was quite a bit he wished to ask him.
After dinner, Frodo followed the crowd of people into the Hall of Fire where the party would relax and exchange songs. It was there that Frodo found Bilbo. The old hobbit was sitting off to the side scribbling away at a few verses he'd been working on. When Frodo sat, Bilbo looked up happily, welcoming his young cousin into his planning. Sam listened eagerly for a time, but as the hours drew on, sleep overtook him, and the hobbit fell asleep at his master's feet. Eventually, Frodo was so lost in their happy reminiscing that he lost all track of the happenings around the two of them.
Suddenly, Bilbo broke from their reverie with a playful frown.
"Has it become your custom to overlook old friends as if they weren't there?"
At first, Frodo wasn't sure what his cousin was talking about, but he quickly noticed the tall, cloaked man standing about six feet away and looking as though he'd stopped in mid stride. Slowly, Shadow turned to look down at the old hobbit. Frodo cocked his head to the side awaiting the Jedi's reaction. Had Bilbo met him before?
"Well met, my little friend," Shadow chuckled, taking a cross-legged seat with the two hobbits. "When did you see through the guise?"
"When you brought our Frodo in from the river, actually," Bilbo frowned in his thoughts. "I would have known it sooner if it weren't for your theatrics when you first showed up."
"Well," Shadow laughed, "I had to try and keep you guessing for at least a little while, didn't I?"
"You could have done that without scaring the pants off an old hobbit," Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest indignantly.
"My apologies, friend," Shadow continued to chuckle. Bilbo eyed the Jedi.
"And that outfit…" The old hobbit shook his head. Shadow looked down at his clothing. Shockingly, though they had been through a long and difficult journey, the cloth remained completely intact without a single tear or stain to be seen.
"What exactly is wrong with my outfit?" The Jedi feigned insult.
"Nothing, I suppose," Bilbo frowned, deep in thought. "It's just a bit morbid, perhaps…too much black for one such as yourself…and it covers that magnificent face of yours! I swear if I had a face like that it'd never be covered. Those eyes—."
"Up-up! Hush now!" Shadow all but clamped a hand over the hobbit's mouth in his shock. "I do not wear this guise for the purpose of my own entertainment alone, my dear Bilbo." Frodo thought Bilbo would surely fall over he was now laughing so hard. Shadow sat back, chuckling himself. "It would be safest if as few people as possible know my identity, my friend."
"I suppose you're right," Bilbo looked like a child who's been told he can't have a cookie until after dinner. "It is a good surprise, though…perhaps I can tell Frodo once all this madness is passed?"
"Of course," though they couldn't see it, Shadow smiled contentedly. Perhaps one day, the Jedi would be able to show Frodo who he was…just not today.
~#*ITS*#~
The next morning dawned, clear and crisp as Sam bounced nervously along behind his master and Bilbo. They all followed Gandalf to the porch where Elrond was holding a grand council. When the small group entered the meeting, Sam marveled at the array of people he saw there. Gloin and several other dwarves that had been seated around him and Frodo the night before were there along with elves of Elrond's household and many that seemed to belong to another realm. A man was among the company; broad and proud he sat with his head held high as if trying to prove his status among so many of the fair people. In a solitary corner sat Strider with his weather-worn travel clothes wrapped tightly around his masculine form. In the opposite corner, mostly hidden by the shadows cast by the rising sun, sat the Jedi.
Sam made for this corner when Frodo was being introduced to the company by Elrond. Sam couldn't fully explain the draw he felt to the dark man, but a sense of security was always quick to wash over him in Shadow's presence.
"Good morning, Sam," Shadow's tone was bright and affectionate despite the overly gloomy mood of the group that gathered on the vast porch.
"Mornin', Mister Shadow," Sam returned quietly, placing himself snugly against the shins of Shadow's long legs on the ground.
From their corner, the two of them listened quietly to the goings on of the council. They heard Gloin speak of a messenger of doom from the black gates of Mordor coming to enlist the help of the dwarves of Erebor. They listened while Elrond told the story of the Rings of Power from its long, almost forgotten beginning.
Sam's eyes were drawn to the tall man he'd seen before; Boromir, they'd called him. He was the son of the steward of Gondor, and he was very proud of his land as evidenced by the number of times he interjected into Elrond's tale to reinforce the point. When he wasn't speaking, though, Sam noticed that Boromir glanced often at the dark man on which he leaned. Shadow either didn't perceive Boromir's inspection or didn't care enough to acknowledge it, as his blackened hood remained trained on Elrond as if hanging on every word the elflord spoke.
Almost before Elrond could complete his account, Boromir stood and began speaking. He wished to tell of the glory of Gondor, of which there was but a little left if truth be told. He told of new horrors from Mordor that the men of Minas Tirith alone had kept at bay.
Sam frowned, suddenly becoming concerned. From where he leaned on Shadow's leg, he had felt the Jedi's every move since the council began. Only now, while Boromir spoke, Shadow didn't move at all. He remained perfectly still, tensed as if waiting to spring.
Boromir shared with those gathered a riddle that had come first to his brother and then to himself in a dream. It was revealed that the riddle spoke of the One Ring and of Frodo, the Halfling who bore it. The "sword that was broken" was the sword of Elendil which cut the Ring from the hand of Sauron thousands of years earlier, and Strider was the heir to that destiny.
"Now that you have seen the sword that was broken," Aragorn asked with a hard look, "what would you ask of those gathered here? Do you wish for the house of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?"
"I was not sent to gather reinforcements," Boromir spat back proudly, "but to ask the answer to a riddle. We are wearing down against so harsh an enemy, however, and Isildur's heir would be a help beyond our asking…if such a man exists outside of children's bedtime stories…"
At this, Shadow inhaled sharply and twitched forward ever so slightly as if fighting with the urge to tackle the proud man who stood before Aragorn.
Bilbo was quicker, however, and burst out a rhyme.
"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not touched by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken:
The crownless again shall be king!
"Not the best, but it hits the point if Elrond's faith isn't enough to suit you. If that was worth a journey of a hundred and ten days to hear, you had better listen to it." The old hobbit sat down indignantly.
Behind his back, Sam felt Shadow relax ever so slightly with what Sam could have sworn was a soft chuckle. Aragorn continued the thought, but with less fire behind his words.
He spoke of the Dunedain that guard the north. He told of his many travels that caused what Boromir considered a long journey from Gondor to Rivendell to pale in their comparison. He told of the evils that slither past the "ever vigilant" watch of the men in the south—the evils from which he and his men have ceaselessly defended the common people for generations. He spoke of the disdainful names the Dunedain are given by the simple people who are allowed to remain simple through their ignorance of the dangers all around them.
"But now the world is changing once again," Aragorn said at length, "A new hour comes. Isildur's Bane is found. Battle is at hand. The Sword shall be reforged. I will come to Minas Tirith."
Boromir stood with his arms folded across his burley chest. He demanded proof of the Ring's authenticity.
It was then that Elrond called for Bilbo and Frodo to tell their stories. After these, at the prodding of one of the Elf-Lords, Gandalf told his tale of Saruman's treachery. He told of how the White Wizard had fallen to his own lusts and had decided to build himself up as a rival to Sauron instead of battling to end the evil of the Ring altogether. It was told of Gollum and his time with the Ring before Bilbo's finding of it. Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood Forrest relayed the distressing news of Gollum's escape from their watchful guards.
When the tale was finished, the full account of the Ring had been given from beginning to end, and the time came to decide what to do with it. The suggestion was tossed up to leave the Ring with Tom Bombadil. To this, Sam heard Shadow heave a sigh. He could almost picture the eyes hidden beneath the hood rolling in frustration. Debate broke out over whether to try and destroy the Ring or vainly attempt to hide it. Those in the council knew that nothing within their power could break such a powerful weapon, and hiding would only delay the inevitable.
"It must be taken to the fiery mountain and be cast into the flames from which it was born." Elrond said finally, "that is the only way to end Sauron forever."
"Why are we speaking of destruction and hiding?" Boromir stood again, and again, Shadow tensed. "Why do we not use this power for the good of all the free peoples?"
"Nothing touched by this Ring can be used for good," Elrond spoke firmly. "It is a device of corruption and hate. It devours even the best of intent and uses it for its own vile purposes. Anyone using this evil as his own would do nothing more than replace Sauron as the Dark Lord, and we would have taken steps backward instead of forward. Nothing that is evil was begun that way. I will not take this thing to hide it. I certainly will not take it to use it."
"Nor I," Gandalf shook his head.
Boromir was not convinced, but he dropped the discussion.
"The Ring will be taken to the Fire," Sam's eyes were drawn toward a new voice. Amidst a small group of lavishly dressed individuals, all with hoods over their faces, a man stood. Lowering his hood, the fairest and strangest face Sam had ever laid eyes on was revealed.
The man's skin was so pale it almost seemed to glow a faint blue. Long silver hair fell from the silken hood and shimmered gold in the sunlight. The man's face was clean-shaven with high cheekbones and a sharp, strong jawline. The eyes were what stood out in his handsome visage; they were a bright electric blue, the vibrancy of which Sam had never seen before.
Many of the elves present stood in shock when the man was revealed. They murmured excitedly amongst themselves. This being and the people with him were sea elves, born in the undying lands. It was a rare occurrence for them to venture into Middle Earth, and few of this council had seen them before.
"Galdor of the Havens," Elrond, still in his seat, motioned for him to continue, "What news from Cirdan the Shipwright?"
"My Lord, Elrond," Galdor bowed low, "My Lord Cirdan has received word from the Lady Daiel of Starkaven. Her advisor has forseen the journey of a company from Imladris on the errand to destroy the One Ring." At this, a hush fell over those listening. Sam felt Shadow fidget awkwardly.
"She sent us word at once to ready ourselves for battle," Galdor continued. "She fears that the battle will be too much for the armies of Middle Earth and has vowed to send her aid if summoned. I have come on an errand from Lord Cirdan to relay and match her vow. My Lord offers his aid as well."
There were many gasps from those listening. This was unheard of. Such a thing hadn't happened in millennia if ever. Never did those native to the Undying Lands venture into Middle Earth, and now the armies of two kingdoms from them were being prepared to aid in the battle?
"So much help from the West is unexpected," Elrond mused, "I had received Lady Daiel's vow, but now to hear of Cirdan as well…"
"My Lord bade me bring this to the Company of the Ring," Galdor turned and a woman brought forth a white dove in an elegant cage. "We were told that the Great Battle would occur in the lands of Gondor. Lord Cirdan requests that this dove be released when the company first reaches Lothlorien so that we will have time to make the journey thence."
"I do not think that will be necessary," Elrond smiled grimly, "There may be other means of getting word to your Lords. Shadow?"
Reluctantly, the Jedi rose and moved forward, stepping over Sam as he did so. Galdor's piercing eyes widened at the sight of the cloaked man, and he dropped instantly to his knees along with the rest of his company.
"Forgive me," Galdor spoke to the ground, "I fear we have come too late and may have only repeated the words that the Wise of this company have already heard."
"No," Shadow reached down to pull the sea elf to his feet. "I spoke to Lord Elrond on behalf of the Lady Daiel only. Cirdan's decision was his own to make." Shadow paused, taking the small cage and examining the bird as he continued. "My Lord Elrond also forgets that there is no rule saying that I will survive in this venture long enough to personally take word to our help."
Sam could see in Elrond's stony visage that this last comment had not pleased him. Evidently Shadow meant a great deal to Rivendell's lord.
"What is the meaning of this?" Boromir broke in, "a group from someplace outside our lands butts into a council concerning Middle Earth and now suddenly we're bowing to a Nazgul that has somehow earned a seat among us?"
Sam stood in outrage to defend his friend, but before anyone had time to react, Galdor had Boromir by the shirt collar.
With his elegant face inches from Boromir's unshaven one, Galdor hissed, "You should not speak of things you do not understand, Little Man."
"Be still, Galdor," Shadow calmly laid a hand on the elf's arm, causing him to reluctantly relax and release Boromir from his grip. "I am somewhat of a frightening figure in this form. He does not know who I am. Even knowing my name would mean very little to one who has been shut away in the South for all of his existence. He cannot be held responsible for his ignorance."
"Well spoken, Master Jedi," Elrond's voice was even despite his own irritation. "And with that settled, it is time to bring this meeting to its true purpose. We must decide who will carry the Ring to Mordor."
~#*ITS*#~
A/N: BUM BUM BUUUUUM! And the plot thickens. It would seem there is already a bit of tension in the ranks between our Shadow and Boromir of Gondor. (Forgive me, Boromir fans, but he has annoyed me from the first time I read LotR in the 3rd grade. This is my way of taking out some of my irritation with this character.) Also, those of you who are fans of the book will notice that some of the quotes from the Council are directly taken from the chapter "The Council of Elrond". That is because for this part, there were things said that Tolkien nailed and if I had tampered with them in the slightest, it would have ruined the whole effect. Hope you don't mind.
Thanks so much for all of the reviews! I hope to get more with this chapter. I was slightly disappointed in one of them. It was a very nice, sweet, complimentary review, but I was told that a reader had stopped at chapter 4 when they learned that Shadow is an OC. "How very sad", I thought to myself, "that someone would limit the scope of their reading just because a character wasn't borrowed from someone else." I would like to remind everyone that at one point or another, every fictional character was an "OC". They haven't existed forever. By limiting yourself to only reading borrowed thoughts, you are only cheating yourself out of what could potentially be some of the best literature you've experienced thus far. (Not saying that's what mine is, but you get the point.) What if people would have stopped reading Tolkien's works when they learned that he'd made up the characters all on his own? We probably wouldn't still be reading it today, and that would be a tragedy for the ages. There are some EXCELLENT young or budding authors (and some seasoned ones who are just having some fun) on this site, and they deserve some solid readership, and you deserve to let a good story to steal you away from reality for a while. Just some random food for thought.
Hope you enjoyed it, and I'll start cranking on the next chapter tomorrow seeing as how it sort of completes this chapter's thought. Haha!