The morning came bright and clear, heralded by the sunlight streaming through the window of the small, well furnished room Arya had been given to sleep in. She woke quickly and walked to the door, as was her custom. A small piece of twine was tied to the handle, set to snap if anyone should open the door from the outside. Seeing that it was intact, Arya untied it and stuffed it into her pocket. She wasn't really suspicious of these elves anymore, but old habits die hard, and she slept easier with the rope in place.
After splashing some water on her face from a basin near the window, she stepped out into the fresh morning air. The valley was quiet, the soft chilling breeze providing the only audible source of noise. Spotting a thin trail of smoke winding up from the dining hall, Arya went in that direction.
Upon entering, she noticed that the hall was more crowded than usual. Not only did there seem to be more elves present, other, unfamiliar faces were there as well. There were two short men, alike to the hobbits in size, with long, thick beards and muscular arms. Círdan and Galdor were sitting near an old bearded man in a grey cloak. Arya assumed that they must have arrived some time in the early hours of the morning.
All four hobbits were also sitting together, next to Strider. A fifth hobbit had joined them, older and jollier looking. He was talking with Frodo, and after looking between their faces for a few seconds, Arya decided that they must be related. Perhaps he was Frodo's father. What he was doing in Rivendell was beyond her, but she supposed it didn't really matter.
After a quick breakfast of greens and venison, Elrond, who had been sitting at the head of the table, tapped his fork against a glass. A hush fell over the room as everyone turned toward him expectantly.
"My Friends." He began in a loud, commanding voice. "I have summoned many of you here to this very place, and others it seems have been brought by fortune and fate. Now the hour is nigh when a great many matters shall be settled. Come hither, those of you who I have bidden council with me. We shall speak long into the day, and perhaps longer still."
There was a great murmuring as he left the room. About half of the occupants, including Strider and Frodo, stood to follow. Arya shared a glance with Laeric, who gave a curt nod. She motioned for her company to rise.
Elrond led them down a winding stone path that led toward the Southern side of the valley, away from the loud streaming waterfalls. There they found themselves in a small circular pavilion, around which many chairs were set in a large circle. A dias was positioned in the middle, casting a long shadow in the light of the sun hanging low in the sky.
As everyone took their seats, Arya wasn't surprised to find that there were enough for everyone. In fact, several seats were left unoccupied. She sat with Colden, Laeric, Barroth, and Tiedrin near the entrance, opposite from Lord Elrond. Glorfindel looked at Arya and offered a smile.
As the last few people walked in, one man caught Arya's eye. She didn't remember having seen him at breakfast. He had a fair and noble face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, sitting proudly but quietly, watching everyone else with interest. His garments were rich and lined with fur, but stained from travel. A great horn was laid across his knees.
His appearance immediately made Arya do a double-take. With his hair and eyes, he looked very much like a Stark. His powerful build and stern face only enhanced the similarities. Although she had never met her uncle Brandon, Arya imagined this was how he would have looked. Strong, tall, alike to her father and yet different. She was drawn to the man, and had to remind herself that he could very possibly be her enemy.
When everyone was seated, the talking started.
First, Elrond and other elves gave news from distant lands with names strange to Arya. Most of the tidings made little or no sense to her; men invading from the East, evil stirring in a land called Mordor, and tension growing between two countries, Harad and Gondor. She tried to understand or memorize as much as she could, but it was difficult.
A glance to her right showed that her companions were not faring much better. Colden had drawn a small knife and was sharpening it discreetly, Barroth was slumped over, confusion written all over his face. Tiedrin seemed to be falling asleep. Arya saw Laeric give him a quick kick in the shin, which made him sit up with a start.
One of the short bearded men introduced himself as Gloin, a dwarf. As far as Arya could tell, the only difference between him and the hobbits was that he seemed gruffer and had a beard. He spoke of trouble away in his homeland, mentioning an ill-fated mission to the mining colony of Moria. Arya perked up when she caught a familiar word.
"The messenger asked for news concerning hobbits ." Gloin was saying. "He knew that one at least was known to us, and said that the Lord Sauron desired something of this hobbit. A ring, he said, of little importance. Merely a trifle fancied by his master. Should we retrieve this ring, or learn of it, we were told that we should be in the friendship of Mordor and its allies."
"And what did you say to this messenger?" Elrond asked slowly.
"Nothing." Gloin said. "We gave no answer, and would not betray our trust or friendship with old Bilbo here. But the kingdom of Dale received the same message, and they, I fear, may accept Sauron's terms. War is already marching on their lands."
Elrond sighed. His eyes were heavy and tired, and he seemed to be steeling himself for something unpleasant. Arya caught him glancing in her direction. He took his time responding.
"Know that your people are not alone in this fight." He said finally. "War marches on all lands, whether they know it or not. Your trouble is but part of all the trouble of the Western world. As for the Ring-" Here he paused and looked over at Arya again. "-Well, that is the purpose for which you are called hither. You have come here and are met by chance, as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world. And first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from beginning even to this present. I will begin it, though others shall end it."
Then Arya listened intently as Elrond began a long and great tale, beginning with the forging of the rings of power by Sauron, and following the One as it was cast about through the ages. He told of how it had found its way to the creature Gollum, and then fallen into the hands of an unsuspecting Bilbo, who she discovered was the old, jolly looking hobbit sitting by Frodo. Other people told other parts. Bilbo himself gave a rather amusing account of his own adventures, and Strider told of the fall of Isildur the Great.
Arya was riveted by the whole story. It was a good one, she had to admit, full of war, glory, and treachery. But it felt surreal, like something a poet would make up to entertain a king of Westeros. Her first inclination was to laugh and blow it off as just that; a story, purely fantasy, meant for children rather than stern warriors and elven lords. There was no way any of that could have actually happened, was there?
But then Arya remembered her words to Barroth just the other day. After what she had seen back at her own home, was it really so hard to believe this tale? Maybe there really was a Sauron, and maybe he really was as evil as they said. Maybe this "One Ring" truly did exist.
Finally, Frodo finished it off by saying that he had brought the ring to Rivendell himself. Arya looked at him sharply, just as he was standing, reaching for his neck. He pulled out a slender silver chain, at the end of which a small circle of gold was fastened. Arya had to squint to see it.
"Behold Isildur's Bane!" Elrond proclaimed.
A hush fell over the courtyard. The grey-eyed man was leaning forward, studying it intently. Arya noticed how uncomfortable Frodo looked presenting it to everyone. His hand shook, and he shoved it back down his shirt quickly. Everyone was silent for a moment.
"What proof do you have of this Ring's power?" Arya asked. She spoke quietly, but everyone heard her. The old man with the staff answered.
"You have already seen proof." He said. "Did you not fight the Nazgul themselves on the heights of Weathertop? Did you not hear their voices crying for it in the night?"
Arya's stomach dropped. "But those were just-"
"Men?" The man asked gravely. "They were, once, in a time long forgotten. But now they are slaves to the power of the ring, corrupted by it's darkness. Their master has sent them to reclaim it."
Arya opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again. It made sense. Those dark figures had clearly not been of the mortal world. Their cries, their strength, the fear they emitted… And they had been after Frodo when she had found them…
"And how do the wise know that this ring is indeed the bane of Isildur?" This came from the grey-eyed man, who was looking at Elrond doubtfully. " I have seen a bright ring in the halfling's hand, but may we not hear proofs?"
"You speak for me also." Círdan said, sitting forward. "And I would ask this also. What of Saruman? He is learned in the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel?"
"Those questions are bound together." Said Elrond. "And I call upon Gandalf to make clear the answers, for they have not been overlooked."
At this, the old man stood, staff in hand. He didn't seem to need it, but carried it nonetheless. Arya noted that although he looked old and wisened, his face was noble, and his eyes showed great wisdom and intelligence. She remembered that the name Gandalf had been mentioned back at the inn at Bree, but had expected someone like Strider: A proud, fierce, survivalist type.
"Some would think the tidings of Gloin and the pursuit of Frodo proof enough that the halfling's trove is of great worth to the enemy." Gandalf spoke. "And it is a ring. The Nine the Nazgul keep. The Seven are taken or destroyed. The Three we know of. What then is this one he desires so much?"
He paused, stroking his long beard, a faraway look in his eyes. He seemed to be remembering something unpleasant.
"I was lulled by the words of Saruman the wise." He said at length. "He assured me that the One was lost, carried out to sea. For too long I waited idly by while the enemy poised himself to strike. At long last, however, I became aware of many spies around the Shire, and knew that there was more to this ring of Bilbo's than I had first guessed. I sent Aragorn here to search for the creature Gollum."
He gestured toward Strider at the last part. Arya started, looking quizzically at the ranger. He caught her narrowed eyes and shook his head ever so slightly. She shot him a look, silently promising that they would be having a talk later.
Gandalf was now telling of the hunt for Gollum, who, as far as Arya could tell, was a miserable little beast who had once possessed the ring. His lifespan, Gandalf said, was abnormally long, which was solid evidence that the ring was truly the One. Arya, knowing nothing of the matter, decided to take his word for it.
Then Strider (Or was it Aragorn now?) gave an account of the interrogations of Gollum, and the information they had learned from him, most of which had little meaning to the Westerosi present. He finished off by saying that they had left Gollum in the hands of the elves of Mirkwood. At this, an elf clad in green and brown stood abruptly, distress in his fair face.
"Alas!" He cried. "The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. Smeagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."
Everyone fell silent. Arya sighed heavily. Of course there was a murderous little monster on the loose. As if she didn't already have enough to worry about.
"But how then did the folk of Thranduil come to fail in their trust?" Gandalf asked.
The elf proceeded to give an account of Gollum's escape, which really just confirmed what Arya had already guessed. Elves were far too trusting, she decided. And gentle. If it had been up to her, Gollum would have been locked away in a cell for the rest of his life, or executed, if he was no longer of any use.
"Well, he is gone, my dear Legolas." Gandalf said. "We have no time to seek for him again. He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen. And now I will answer the other question. What of Saruman? What is his advice to us?" He frowned deeply. "Well, this tale I must tell in full."
This story intrested Arya almost as much as the one about the ring. Looking around, it was clear that no one else had heard it before either, save perhaps Elrond. All were dismayed as Gandalf explained that Saruman, apparently a man of great wisdom and importance, had betrayed them all and sided with their enemy. While Arya didn't know the man in question, those who did seemed greatly disturbed by his treachery. Arya guessed that he must have been a powerful ally, and his new allegiance would only cause problems. When Gandalf was finished, angry murmuring broke out all around the circle. Elrond clapped his hands once, causing everyone to fall silent.
"Well, the tale is now told, from first to last." He said. "Here we all are, and here is the Ring. But we have not yet come any nearer to our purpose. What shall we do with it?"
The silence continued. Arya looked around, wondering who the first to present an Idea would be. To her surprise, it was Laeric.
"Ye said this ring here was thought to be at the bottom of the sea." The old sailor spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to remember the details. "And everyone thought it to be lost. So why don't ye jus' throw it in there now? If ye can't break the damn thing, seems to me that's the only way to get rid of it for sure."
"But not rid of it for good." Said Gandalf. "There are many things in the deep waters, and seas and lands may change. It is not our part to delay the day of doom; rather, we must seek a final end to this menace."
"It cannot be destroyed by any craft that we here possess." Elrond argued. "We have not the strength to unmake it, nor the strength to defend it. And it would be folly to try. But another answer may be at hand."
He looked straight at Arya. She felt everyone else's eyes turn to her, and shifted uncomfortably. Colden quickly slipped his dagger away, now that attention was in their direction.
"The Lady Arya arrived here merely days ago." The elf lord continued. "And her story is a strange one. It seems that now is the time to speak of this matter, for in it we may find the answers to our other problem."
Círdan stood up, surveying his audience. "I will, by your leave, begin this tale. But before I begin, my lady, I beg your forgiveness."
He bowed to Arya, stooping low. She saw a sad and apologetic look in his eyes that immediately put her on edge.
"For I fear." He said. "That I have not been entirely truthful with you."