The beauty of Rivendell was pleasant to look at as the sun was beginning to set in the west. In a quiet garden, Lincoln Campbell and Daisy Johnson were having a very nice conversation with each other alone. Daisy had so many questions as to how he survived, in which Lincoln explained everything to her.

"So, director huh, must be a big change for you and S.H.I.E.L.D.," Lincoln said, sounding impressed.

"Yeah, its tough and it sucks when you have to go over every protocol," Director Johnson sighed.

"Does that mean I'm suppose to call you director now?" Lincoln scoffed.

"Only if you want," Director Johnson giggled.

"No, no, its fine," Lincoln chuckled.

Daisy Johnson really liked Lincoln's look of his long hair and have a pleasant remark. "Kinda like your new look."

"Yeah, I was thinking of asking someone to shave it off," Lincoln thought to himself.

"No, I like it," Director Johnson remarked. "Really makes you look like the Winter Soldier."

"Yeah, a fugitive of the law," Lincoln scoffed again.

"Many people call me the big hand of the law and they pretty much like me, except for the ones that don't," Director Johnson recalled about the Watchdogs.

"Do these guys really take it serious?" Lincoln asked.

"All the time," Director Johnson sighed.

"You know, I...I missed you by the way," Lincoln quietly responded, holding Daisy's hand gently.

"Lincoln, everyone, including me, thought you were gone," Director Johnson sounded as if she was a bit upset. "Its like... its like I come here and think this world is playing tricks on me."

"Its no trick Daisy," Lincoln truly admits. "I've been here for a like year now. I tried to regenerate my powers, but every time, I feel no spark. Its like its gone. I feel as if it won't come back."

"Lincoln, I don't know what to say, but there's got to be something in you that is trying to get out of you," Director Johnson quietly said, expressing her care for him like she did in the past.

"Its been months Daisy, nothing has happened, and this is what its like to live a normal life without powers," Lincoln sighed.

"Lincoln, this is what happens when Inhumans go through Terrigenesis," Director Johnson said. "There's no cure to rid it. Once you accept it, its your gift forever. Are you saying as if your gift meant nothing to you?"

"No its... I should take it back, but let me tell you this Daisy, some Inhumans think they are worthy in the gifts they've been wanting, and yet they don't get it at all," Lincoln explained more. "Some can carry darkness in their hearts after they go through Terrigenesis. Its like part of their humanity is gone, just like the little girl who was killed in Bahrain and your mother misleading us. I too carried the same thing like your mother from the very beginning when I first met you."

"Well, your different than those who react to this," Director Johnson said.

"Yeah," Lincoln scoffed. "Of course."

"Then what do you feel?" Director Johnson asked. "Tell me... please?"

"I feel different without my powers," Lincoln answered. "Its like the darkness that was in me is gone and I've been at peace on this world ever since. Its like your free from this and you can start a new life."

"Lincoln, when Raina and I went through Terrigenesis, I was scared," Director Johnson explained. "I was scared of the power I had in me. I wasn't in control and the one thing that scared me the most was bringing the whole Playground down. I would never forgive myself if it did."

"But you didn't," Lincoln added.

"And that's why when I use my power, I try not to think of what I did when the Terrigen Mist touched me," Director Johnson said. "All I can think of now is mastering it and I've been training every day on how to alter my powers."

"Daisy, powers can alter in shapes or forms, not matter what it can be," Lincoln said.

"And the more I learn?" Director Johnson asked.

"Then the more you'll understand on what it truly means," Lincoln answered. "Thing is Daisy, people, who can get powers, can blind them."

"And I'm glad it didn't blind me," Director Johnson sighed.

As the evening drew on, Frodo woke up again, and he found that he no longer felt in need of rest or sleep, but had a mind for food and drink, and probably for singing and story-telling afterwards. He got out of bed and discovered that his arm was already nearly as useful again as it ever had been. He found laid ready clean garments of green cloth that fitted him excellently. Looking in a mirror, he was startled to see a much thinner reflection of himself than he remembered. It looked remarkably like the young nephew of Bilbo who used to go tramping with his uncle in the Shire, but the eyes looked out at him thoughtfully.

"Yes, you have seen a thing or two since you last peeped out of a looking-glass," Frodo said to his reflection. "But now for a merry meeting." He stretched out his arms and whistled a tune.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Samwise Gamgee and Bobbi Morse came in. Samwise was the first to run to Frodo and took his left hand, awkwardly and shyly. He stroked it gently and then he blushed and turned hastily away.

"Sam," Frodo said.

"It's warm," Samwise observed Frodo's arm. "Meaning your hand, Mr. Frodo. It has felt so cold through the long nights. But glory and trumpets!"

"It's fine to see you up and yourself again," Bobbi smiled. "Gandalf request Sam and I to be the first ones to come and see if you were ready to come down."

"Bobbi and I thought he was joking, Mr. Frodo," Samwise said excitedly.

"I am ready," Frodo declared.

"Then let's go, we don't want to miss the rest of the party," Bobbi beckoned the two to follow her, and both the young hobbits follow her across the beautiful hall within the great city of Rivendell. "And you will be meeting some friends of mine that just came to Arda looking for us."

"They said they're from this Earth Bobbi had mentioned to us before, Mr. Frodo," Samwise said, talking about the new outsiders that came. "Bobbi and Lincoln said they're good friends. At first, I didn't know who they were and how they got here, but when I got to know them, they seemed quite..."

"Quite what, Sam?" Frodo wanted to get the answer from him.

"Intelligent," Samwise answered, thinking that was the answer.

"You'll get to know them very well, Frodo," Bobbi chuckled and began to tell him much about Rivendell. "It's a big place. Always a bit more to discover, and no knowing what you'll find round a corner. Sam couldn't stop looking at the elves."

"Some like kings, terrible and splendid, and some as merry as children," Samwise added. "And the music and the singing-not that I have had the time or the heart for much listening since we got here. But I'm getting to know some of the ways of the place."

"Well I know what you and Bobbi have been doing," Frodo said, taking his arm. "But you shall be merry tonight, and listen to your heart's content. Come on, guide me round the corners."

Samwise Gamgee and Bobbi Morse led Frodo along several passages and down many steps and out into a high garden above the steep bank of the river. There they Pippin, Merry, Lincoln Campbell, Darcia Lewis, Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, Ian Boothby, Shannon Lawrence, Lance Hunter, and Natasha Romanoff sitting around a porch on the side of the house looking east with their friends and companions Piper Baines, Michael Davis, Leo Fitz, Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons, Imogen Snow, and Derrick Wainscroft. Shadows had fallen in the valley below, but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above. The air was warm. The sound of running and falling water was loud, and the evening was filled with a faint scent of trees and flowers, as if summer still lingered in Elrond's gardens.

Natasha was the first to notice Frodo approaching and called out, "Hey, we got a boogey on our six!"

"Well look whose come to join the party at last," Hunter responded with a grin on his face, holding a glass fill with wine and took a sip.

"He's awake!" Darcy cried, springing up to give him a very tight hug. "Oh my baby! You had us all scared to death! Don't you dare do that again!"

"Seriously, my baby?" Jane scoffed in pure laughter as she pulls Darcy out the way to give the young hobbit a hug as well and gave him a warm kiss on his forehead. She bends one knee to address her height and asks. "You okay?"

"I can still feel it," Frodo answered.

"Well if you feel anything, just let me know," Jane insisted.

Just then, Merry and Pippin surround Frodo and give him a very hug embrace, very happy to see him alive and well due to their worries that they would never see him again.

"Is that him?" Deke asked, staring at the young hobbit as she wrapped his arm around Imogen.

"He looks like a butterfly," Imogen quietly gasped in amazement and thinks in her own head in wanting to get closer look at him him.

"A beautiful one, Snow," Deke whispered back and clicks his tongue.

"Alright, blah, blah, blah, make way for this... ah whatever, Lord of the Ring," Hunter sighed.

"Lord of the Ring, seriously?" Director Johnson scoffed.

"That's what Gandalf said," Hunter complained in an excuse. "What? Bad title?"

"No, its a good one," Director Johnson nodded with a smirk and gave Lincoln a wink. "Right?"

"Ah, 'Lord of the Ring' does seem like a good ring to it," Lincoln remarked on the title.

Natasha walks up to Frodo with a smirk. "I know we never had a chance to meet, but I was with you when Arwen took you across the river."

"Yes, I remember," Frodo responded, nodding his head since he already recognized her. "Your Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow?"

Natasha was quite susprised, but could guess that Bobbi already mentioned that to him when he woke up from his long rest after the Light Elves of Rivendell managed to cure him.

"Did she mention that I'm an Avenger?" Natasha wondered if the young hobbit knew.

"Yes," Frodo nodded in answer.

"Well, I'll tell you more after this," Natasha promised. "Until then, you should have some fun while it lasts."

That was when Jemma walked up to him and shook his hand. "Its a pleasure to meet you, I'm Jemma... Jemma Simmons, but just call me Jemma and this one with the small brains is Fitz."

"Small brains, cool, I feel really embarrassed," Agent Fitz sighed.

"So, um, perhaps we should get to the part about this evil?" Deke asked, wanting to learn more about the Dark Lord Sauron and his dark allies.

"Hush!" Gandalf raised his voice from the shadows at the back of the porch. "Evil things do not come into this valley, but all the same we should not name them. The Lord of the Ring is not Frodo, but the master of the Dark Tower of Mordor, whose power is again stretching out over the world. We are sitting in a city of light. Outside it is getting dark."

"Gandalf has been saying many cheerful things like that," Boothby said to Fitz. "He thinks Pippin and I need to be keeping things in order."

"But it seems impossible, somehow, to feel gloomy or depressed in a place like this," Fitz remarked about the city and sighs. "Makes me feel like I want to sing, if I knew the right song for the occasion."

"Well, I feel like singing myself," Agent Simmons laughed beside him. "Though at the moment I feel more like eating and drinking."

"That will soon be cured," Agent Fitz groaned. "Cause I'm starving."

"Not until the bells rings, Fitz," Agent Simmons encouraged him to wait, giving him a reminder that every outsider should learn the politeness within this city.

"If only there was a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich," Agent Fitz murmured.

The hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves for the most part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Elrond, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, on the other side sat Gandalf.

Frodo looked at them in wonder, for he had never before seen Elrond, of whom so many tales spoke; and as they sat upon his right hand and his left, Glorfindel, and even Gandalf, whom he thought he knew so well, were revealed as lords of dignity and power. Gandalf was shorter in stature than the other two; but his long white hair, his sweeping silver beard, and his broad shoulders, made him look like some wise king of ancient legend. In his aged face under great snowy brows his dark eyes were set like coals that could leap suddenly into fire.

Glorfindel was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength.

The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fulness of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men.

In the middle of the table, against the woven cloths upon the wall, there was a chair under a canopy, and there sat a lady fair to look upon, and so like was she in form of womanhood to Elrond that Frodo guessed that she was one of his close kindred. Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the years bring. Above her brow her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver.

So it was that Frodo saw her whom few mortals had yet seen. Arwen, daughter of Elrond, in whom it was said that the likeness of Lúthien had come on earth again; and she was called Undómiel, for she was the Evenstar of her people. Long she had been in the land of her mother's kin, in Lórien beyond the mountains, and was but lately returned to Rivendell to her father's house. But her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were out upon errantry: for they rode often far afield with the Rangers of the North, forgetting never their mother's torment in the dens of the orcs.

Such loveliness in living thing Frodo had never seen before nor imagined in his mind; and he was both surprised and abashed to find that he had a seat at Elrond's table among all these folk so high and fair. Though he had a suitable chair, and was raised upon several cushions, he felt very small, and rather out of place; but that feeling quickly passed. The feast was merry and the food all that his hunger could desire. It was some time before he looked about him again or even turned to his neighbours.

Bobbi, Hunter, Daisy, Lincoln, Jemma, Fitz, Imogen, Deke, Piper, Davis, Darcy, Boothby, Jane, Selvig, and Shannon were also seated together in a very nice table. They were chatting and finding out what food they were going to be served. Sam had begged to be allowed to wait on his master, but had been told that for this time he was a guest of honour. Frodo could see him now, sitting with Pippin and Merry at the upper end of one of the side-tables close to the dais. He could see no sign of Strider.

Next to Frodo on his right sat a dwarf of important appearance, richly dressed. His beard, very long and forked, was white, nearly as white as the snow-white cloth of his garments. He wore a silver belt, and round his neck hung a chain of silver and diamonds. Frodo stopped eating to look at him.

"Welcome and well met!' The dwarf said, turning towards him. Then he actually rose from his seat and bowed. "Glóin at your service."

"Frodo Baggins at your service and your family's," Frodo correctly said, rising in surprise and scattering his cushions. "Am I right in guessing that you are the Glóin, one of the twelve companions of the great Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Quite right," Glóin answered, gathering up the cushions and courteously assisting Frodo back into his seat. "And I do not ask, for I have already been told that you are the kinsman and adopted heir of our friend Bilbo the renowned. Allow me to congratulate you on your recovery."

"Thank you very much," Frodo gratefuly replied.

"You have had some very strange adventures, I hear," Glóin said. "I wonder greatly what brings four hobbits and sixteen tall humans on so long a journey. Nothing like it has happened since Bilbo came with us. But perhaps I should not inquire too closely, since Elrond and Gandalf do not seem disposed to talk of this?"

"I think we will not speak of it, at least not yet," Frodo politely said and began to wonder that even in Elrond's house the matter of the Ring was not one for casual talk, and in any case he wished to forget his troubles for a time. "But I am equally curious to learn what brings so important a dwarf so far from Erebor."

Glóin looked at him. "If you have not heard, I think we will not speak yet of that either. Master Elrond will summon us all year long, I believe, and then we shall all hear many things. But there is much else that may be told."

Throughout the rest of the meal they talked together, but Frodo listened more than he spoke. Dor the news of the Shire, apart from the Ring, seemed small and far-away and unimportant, while Glóin had much to tell of events in the northern regions of Rhovanion. Frodo learned that Grimbeorn the Old, son of Beorn, was now the lord of many sturdy men, and to their land between the Mountains and Mirkwood neither orc nor wolf dared to go.

"lndeed," Glóin went on with his explanation. "If it weren't for the Beornings, the passage from Dale to Rivendell would long ago have become impossible. They are valiant warriors and keep open the High Pass and the Ford of Carrock. But their tolls are high, and like Beorn of old, they are not over fond of dwarves. Still, they are trusty, and that is much in these days. Nowhere are there any men so friendly to us as the Men of Dale. They are good folk, the Bardings. The grandson of Bard the Bowman rules them, Brand son of Bain son of Bard. He is a strong king, and his realm now reaches far south and east of Esgaroth.'

"And what of your own people?" Frodo asked.

"There is much to tell, good and bad," Glóin said. "Yet it is mostly good: we have so far been fortunate, though we do not escape the shadow of these times. If you really wish to hear of us, I will tell you tidings gladly. But stop me when you are weary! Dwarves' tongues run on when speaking of their handiwork, they say."

And with that, Glóin embarked on a long account of the doings of the kingdom of Erebor. He was delighted to have found so polite a listener; for Frodo showed no sign of weariness and made no attempt to change the subject, though actually he soon got rather lost among the strange names of people and places that he had never heard of before. He was interested, however, to hear that Dáin was still King under the Mountain, and was now old, venerable, and fabulously rich. Of the ten companions, who had survived the great battle of the two kingdoms, but now there were seven: Dwalin, Glóin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bombur was now so fat that he could not move himself from his couch to his chair at table, and it took six young dwarves to lift him.

"And what has become of Balin and Ori and Óin?" Frodo asked.

A shadow passed over Glóin's face and then answered. "We do not know. It is largely on account of Balin that I have come to ask the advice of those that dwell in Rivendell. But tonight let us speak of merrier things."

Glóin began then to talk of the works of his people, telling Frodo about their great labours in Dale and how everything changed within the Lonely Mountain.

"We have done well," Glóin continued. "But in metalwork we cannot rival our fathers, many of whose secrets are lost. We make good armour and keen swords, but we cannot again make mail or blade to match those that were made before the dragon came. Only in mining and building have we surpassed the old days. You should see the waterways of Dale, Frodo, and the fountains, and the pools! You should see the stone-paved roads of many colours! And the halls and cavernous streets under the earth with arches carved like trees; and the terraces and towers upon the Mountain's sides! Then you would see that we have not been idle."

"I will come and see them, if ever I can," Frodo sounded like he was excited in wanting to see Erebor. "How surprised Bilbo would have been to see all the changes in the Desolation of Smaug."

Glóin looked at Frodo and smiled. "You were very fond of Bilbo were you not?"

"Yes," Frodo answered. "I would rather see him than all the towers and palaces in the world."

At length, the feast came to an end. Elrond and Arwen rose and went down the hall, and the Shire Conspirators, including Daisy Johnson's team and Lincoln Campbell, followed them in due order. The doors were thrown open, and they went across a wide passage and through other doors, and came into a further hall. In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side. The group found themselves walking behind Gandalf, who was going to bring them to the Hall of Fire.

"So where is he leading us to?" Agent Simmons wondered what this was.

"Who knows," Agent Fitz shrugged.

"This is the Hall of Fire," Gandalf introduced the group and explains what he knows about the hall. "Here you will hear many songs and tales... if you can keep yourselves awake at this time. But except on high days, it usually stands empty and quiet, and many people come here who wish for peace, and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light."

"And what will we hear?" Jemma began to wonder what tales that will come.

"Every tale on how Arda became the heart of the universe," Gandalf answered. "The Elder Days, the Watchful Peace, and the First and Second Age."

"And what about this Sauron guy, who is he?" Agent Baines asked.

"The answers will be told," Gandalf promised her.

"Don't get your knickers in twist darling, I don't know much, but this Lord Elrond will be the one to tell us the whole bloody story," Hunter sighed.

"Hope its a pretty good one," Director Johnson said.

"Its something that the great wizard has told me about a few times," Lincoln whispered to her.

As Elrond entered and went towards the seat prepared for him, elvish minstrels began to make sweet music. Slowly the hall filled, and the group looked with delight upon the many fair faces that were gathered together. The golden firelight played upon them and shimmered in their hair. Suddenly he noticed, not far from the further end of the fire, a small dark figure seated on a stool with his back propped against a pillar. Beside him on the ground was a drinking-cup and some bread. Frodo wondered whether he was ill and had been unable to come to the feast. His head seemed sunk in sleep on his breast, and a fold of his dark cloak was drawn over his face.

"This is lovely Fitz," Agent Simmons giggled in excitement.

"I wonder what else the Light Elves do here?" Agent Fitz whispered to her.

"I overheard from someone that they have some sort of medicine called Athelas," Agent Simmons whispered back to him. "Think Fitz, if we uncover this type of medicine, we can make it into something so strong that could save lives."

"So how the hell do we do that?" Agent Fitz sharply asked in a whisper. "Who in this room can tell us more on how to achieve this."

"I think Lord Elrond might know, let's go ask him," Agent Simmons suggested.

Agents FitzSimmons were very interested in wanting to find out more of the Athelas, so they walk across the hall to meet with the Lord Elrond and ask him a couple of questions. Frodo walked pass the two agents until he began to hear a voice.

"The leaves were long, the grass was green, but the hemlock-umbels tall and fair," A familiar voice spoke during the peaceful music. "And in the glade a light was seen, of stars in shadow, shimmering, Tinúviel was dancing there."

Frodo turns around and saw that it was his uncle and cried with a sudden recognition. "Bilbo!"

"Hullo, Frodo my lad!" Bilbo exclaimed in pure laughter. "So you have got here at last. I hoped you would manage it. Well, well! So all this feasting is in your honour, I hear. I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

"Why weren't you there?" Frodo asked. "And why haven't I been allowed to see you before?"

"Because you were asleep, I have seen a good deal of you," Bilbo truly admitted. "I have sat by your side with Samwise Gamgee, Jane Foster, Lance Hunter, Bobbi Morse, Darcy Lewis, Ian Boothby, Erik Selvig, and Shannon Lawrence each day. I don't go in for such things much now and I had something else to do."

"What were you doing?" Frodo asked

"Why, sitting and thinking," Bilbo went on with his explanation. "And speaking of which, I'm pleased to hear that you had a chance to meet with my old friend Glóin. He and I did a lot of things nowadays, and this is the best place to do it in, as a rule."

In the meanwhile, Bobbi and Hunter decided to hang out with Frodo and Bilbo, in which they sit side by side. Samwise Gamgee was having a conversation with Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz, talking about the Shire and described how very lovely the region was. Jemma and Fitz exchange great looks, thinking that they would like to visit the Shire, hopefully until this threat has come to an end. As for Bobbi, Hunter, Frodo, and Bilbo, the four were talking together in soft voices, oblivious of the mirth and music in the hall about them. Bilbo had not much to say of himself. When he had left Hobbiton he had wandered off aimlessly, along the Road or in the country on either side, but somehow he had steered all the time towards Rivendell.

"So that's how it happened?" Hunter asked.

"I got here without much adventure and after a rest I went on with the dwarves to Dale: my last journey," Bilbo explained. "I shan't travel again. Old Balin had gone away. Then I came back here, and here I have been. I have done this and that. I have written some more of my book. And, of course, I make up a few songs. They sing them occasionally... to please me, I think, but of course, they aren't really good enough for Rivendell. And I listen and I think. Time doesn't seem to pass here: it just is. A remarkable place altogether.

"Well we now hear all kinds of news, from over the Mountains, and out of the South, but hardly anything from the Shire," Bobbi sighed.

"Well, I heard about the Ring, of course," Bilbo remembered the last time he carried the One Ring. "Gandalf has been here often. Not that he has told me a great deal, he has become closer than ever these last few years. The Dúnadan has told me more. Fancy that ring of mine causing such a disturbance! It is a pity that Gandalf did not find out more sooner. I could have brought the thing here myself long ago without so much trouble. I have thought several times of going back to Hobbiton for it, but I am getting old, and they would not let me: Gandalf and Elrond, I mean. They seemed to think that the Enemy was looking high and low for me, and would make mincemeat of me, if he caught me tottering about in the Wild."

"Well, we are glad to see you safe and sound," Bobbi smiled.

"Indeed my lady... indeed," Bilbo paused when he looked at Frodo doubtfully and then asked in a whisper. "Have you got it?"

"I do," Frodo nodded his head with an answer.

"I can't help feeling curious, you know, after all I've heard," Bilbo smiled excitedly. "I should very much like just to peep at it again."

"Yes, I've got it," Frodo answered, feeling a strange reluctance. "It looks just the same as ever it did."

"Well, I should just like to see it for a moment," Bilbo said, wanting to see it.

Bobbi didn't think it was rise since she knows that the ring is willing to make people addicted to its power and that will drive them mad. She gently grabs Frodo's arm, saying. "Frodo, no, I think its best you keep it hidden." She turns to Bilbo. "Bilbo, whatever this ring has done to you, you should not see it."

"Ah, there you are at last, Dúnadan!" Bilbo cried upon seeing Strider.

"Strider!" Frodo exclaimed.

"Well, Strider is one that I haven't heard before, anyway," Bilbo said. "Tell me, why do you call him that for?"

"They call me that in Bree and that is how I was introduced to him," Strider answered.

"And why do you call him Dúnadan?" Frodo asked.

"The Dúnadan," Bilbo answered. "He is often called that here. But I thought you knew enough Elvish at least to know Dún-udan: Man of the West, Númenorean. But this is not the time for lessons!" He turned to Strider. "Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? The Lady Arwen was there."

Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely. "Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings that Artemis and I wished to hear at once."

"Well, my dear fellow," Bilbo cleared his throat. "Now you've heard the news, can't you spare me a moment? I want your help in something urgent. Elrond says this song of mine is to be finished before the end of the evening, and I am stuck. Let's go off into a corner and polish it up!"

A hour later, Frodo was left to himself for a while, for Sam had fallen asleep. He was alone and felt rather forlorn' although all about him the folk of Rivendell were gathered. But those near him were silent, intent upon the music of the voices and the instruments, and they gave no heed to anything else. Frodo began to listen.

At first the beauty of the melodies and of the interwoven words in elven- tongues, even though he understood them little' held him in a spell, as soon as he began to attend to them. Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that he had never yet imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall became like a golden mist above seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world. Then the enchantment became more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. Swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.

There he wandered long in a dream of music that turned into running water, and then suddenly into a voice. It seemed to be the voice of Bilbo chanting verses. Faint at first and then clearer ran the words. The chanting ceased. Frodo opened his eyes and saw that Bilbo was seated on his stool in a circle of listeners, who were smiling and applauding. Natasha enjoyed the music as she was having a nice pleasant conversation with Lord Elrond while the others were all together laughing, eating, talking, and drinking at the same time.

"Now we had better have it again," Darcy laughed.

"Which one should drink next?" Boothby asked.

Darcy got up and bowed. "I am flattered, Ian, but it would be too tiring to repeat it all."

"Not too tiring for you," Boothby answered laughing. "You know you are never tired of reciting your own verses."

"Really, then how come we cannot answer the question at one hearing?" Jane asked.

"What?!" Darcy cried. "You can't tell which parts were mine!"

"Wow, wow, take a breath Darcy, its not easy for any of us to tell the difference," Jane calmed her.

"Well that's nonsense, gorgeous," Hunter snorted. "Let's say for example, if no one can't distinguish between a Human and a Hobbit, then my judgement is poorer than I imagine."

"Well, I see that Hobbits and Humans are as different as peas and apples," Agent Simmons giggled.

"Maybe so, but to sheep, there's no doubt how it appears different," Director Johnson laughed.

"Or to shepherds," Lincoln added.

"Well, I won't argue with any of you," Hunter drunkly sighed.

"Well I am sleepy after so much drinking, music, and singing," Darcy belched. "I'll leave you losers to guess, if you want to."

"C'mon, let's get to bed," Boothby insisted as he helps his girlfriend.

"Well, that's over," Jane said in a low voice. "It looks like we all went off better than I expected. I don't often get asked for a second hearing."

"Well, what did you think of it?" Hunter asked.

"I am not going to try and guess," Jane smiled.

"Well, you needn't," Hunter said. "As a matter of fact it was all mine. Except that Strider insisted on my putting in a green stone. He seemed to think it important. I don't know why. Otherwise he obviously thought the whole bloody thing rather above my head, and he said that if I had the cheek to make verses about in the house of Elrond, it was my affair. I suppose he was right."

"At least none of us know about this," Bobbi said. "It seemed to me it really fits somehow, though I can't explain."

"Well I was half asleep when they began," Hunter complained. "And it seemed to follow on from something that I was dreaming about. I didn't understand that it was really Bilbo speaking until near the end."

"It is difficult to keep awake here, until you get used to it," Lincoln said.

"Well thanks for that," Hunter coughed

"Not that mortal humans or inhumans would ever acquire quite the elvish appetite for music and poetry and tales," Director Johnson said. "They seem to like them as much as food, or more."

"Well they will be going on for a long time yet," Lincoln sighed.

Everyone got up and withdrew quietly into the shadows, and made for the doors. Deke and Imogen were left behind, fast asleep with smiles on their faces. In spite of their delight in Bilbo's company, Jane felt a tug of regret as they passed out of the Hall of Fire. Even as they stepped over the threshold a single clear voice rose in song.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

silivren penna míriel

o menel aglar elenath!

Na-chaered palan-díriel

o galadhremmin ennorath,

Fanuilos, le linnathon

nef aear, sí nef aearon!

Jane halted for a moment, looking back. Elrond was in his chair and the fire was on his face like summer-light upon the trees. Near her sat the Lady Arwen. To her surprise, Jane saw that Strider stood beside her. His dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed to be clad in elven-mail, and a star shone on his breast. They spoke together, and then suddenly it seemed to Frodo that Arwen turned towards him, and the light of her eyes fell on him from afar and pierced his heart. She stood still enchanted, while the sweet syllables of the elvish song fell like clear jewels of blended word and melody.

"That song what is it?" Jane asked.

"It is a song to Elbereth," Bilbo answered her question. "They will sing that, and other songs of the Blessed Realm, many times tonight."

Hours later during the long quiet night within the city of Rivendell, Strider was sitting quietly and reading a book on a landing, surrounded by beautiful paintings and artifacts. He looks up as he hears the sound of footsteps. Seconds pass, he sets his eyes on a tall man with a fair and noble face, brown-haired and grey-eyed, proud and stern of glance. He was cloaked and booted as if for a journey on horseback, and indeed though his garments were rich, and his cloak was lined with fur, they were stained with long travel. He had a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set and his locks were shorn about his shoulders. He even wore a great horn tipped with silver that now was laid upon his knees.

The man's name was Boromir, son of Denethor of Minas Tirith and Finduilas of Dol Amroth, and even the older brother of Faramir. Between the brothers there was great love, and had been since childhood, when Boromir was the helper and protector of Faramir. He was only ten years old when their mother Finduilas died, and after her death their father became grim and remote. Boromir grew to be a valorous warrior, interested in arms, warfare and tales of old battles and would serve as a commander to the military of Gondor.

Boromir walks up to a painting on the wall, depicting Isildur cutting the Ring from Sauron's finger and his sword breaking. He looks in awe at it, then suddenly turns as he hears a faint noise. He then turns to see Strider reading and looks at him quizically. "You are no elf."

"Men of the South are welcome here," Strider answered.

Boromir nodded, knowing that the elves welcome travelers to their cities, and then asks. "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Gandalf the Grey," Strider told him of his friendship with the wizard.

Boromir nods again and scoffed silently. "Then we are here on a common purpose... friend."

Boromir continues to look around just as Strider continues to look back at him. As the ranger doesn't stop staring, the curious Gondorian looks with wonderment at Narsil, the Broken Blade of Elendil, which lies on a cloth-covered plinth.

"The shards of Narsil," Boromir gasped in pure wonder as he picks up the hilt part of the broken sword. "The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand." He then runs his finger along the tip of it and cuts it causing it to bleed. "Ah!" He gasped silently, but continued to look at it in wonder. "Its still sharp." He then looks at Strider, who had been staring at him. Boromir was suspicious and believed that the blade and Strider might've had a connection. "But no more than a broken heirloom."

Something in Boromir's mind caused him to think that Strider might be related to Elendil. As he turns to walk away, he suddenly drops the sword which falls to the ground, but not by accident. Rather than picking it up, Boromir leaves and doesn't bother to reply back to Strider at all. Strider walks up and picks up the hilt of the blade and takes a long pause by staring at it. He sighs, and then gently places it upon its plinth with reverence.