A cold feeling of dread washed over Arya as she regarded Círdan bowing low in front of her, but she kept a straight face. Now was not the time to betray emotion. And since Círdan was admitting to his betrayal, she doubted it was going to be too severe. Nevertheless, she couldn't help the anger swelling up inside of her. As much as she longed to make the elf pay for lying to her, she restrained herself.
"Go on." She said simply.
Círdan stood gracefully and clasped his hands together. His face portrayed no emotion either, but if she was being honest, it never really had, in all the time she had known him. He began walking in a slow circle, making it clear that he was talking to everyone, not just Arya.
"Two nights before the Lady Arya came upon the shores of Mithlond," He began, "I went down to the water, and there gazed West across the waves. To Aman I looked, ere the setting of the sun. It was there that I heard, distantly, the great blowing of horns. Horns such as those I have never heard before in the long ages of the world, and had never hoped to hear in my time."
He paused, looking at Elrond meaningfully. All of the elves in the room were on the edge of their seats, intent on Círdan.
"I shall never forget the sound, even should I perish. Like the sea it was, fair and wonderful, yet with a wild fury that rose into cacophony. Alas, I fear that never again will my heart find peace."
He smiled nostalgically. "But I did not come hither to tell you only of my heart's desire. For soon thereafter a voice spoke aloud to me, from whither I could not tell. And it said to me ' One shall cometh on tides of fate to this very shore, in the eaves of the morn. They it is who shall mark the doom of this age, for good or evil. They shall seeketh for me in Edhellond, when all purposes are thereby fulfilled.'"
There was a moment of silence in which Arya mulled over what the elf had said. She was relieved that he didn't appear to have directly lied to her or betrayed her, but was still angered that he had withheld the truth. In addition, he seemed to think some sort of deity had spoken to him, and Arya's own experience with the Red Woman made her wary of anyone that took orders from gods.
"I find no reason to doubt your words." Elrond said. "But who then was it that spoke?"
"I know not," said Círdan. "Perhaps a messenger of Aman. Perhaps the Lord of Waters himself. Who can say?"
"And what do you make of the message?"
Círdan paused. "I would make this: The lady Arya is the one that was spoken of. Her purpose here has yet to be accomplished; for good or evil. And it seems now that we are all merely pieces in a game, far more complex than we could yet imagine."
Arya mulled that over for a bit. While she didn't like being referred to as a piece , she had to agree with Círdan. Something larger than all of them was in motion. She could only hope to make an impact before her part was played.
"You knew." She said softly. "You were expecting us. Why didn't you say anything?"
Círdan sighed, obviously having expected the question. "The voice warned that either good or evil would come of your arrival. I wanted to first judge which it would be."
"And did you? Decide?"
He tilted his head. "Do you think I would be speaking with you if I had not? I was wary at first, but you have more than proven yourself, even in the short time since your arrival. Whatever your methods, I believe your intent to be truly good."
Arya studied Círdan for a moment. He was speaking in earnest; that much was clear. She was a little unsure of why he thought so highly of her, though. Maybe it was because she had held off the shadows on Weathertop, or simply because she had agreed to ride with the elven lord to Rivendell.
"Um…" Colden said. "That's nice and all, but what does this weird voice have to do with the ring? You said it would help give us a solution."
"And I believe it has." Elrond said. "Our answers lie in the same direction. I said earlier that the ring cannot be destroyed by any craft that we possess. That is true. But it can be unmade. If we could bring it to the very cracks of doom in Mordor, it's power could be ended."
The name cracks of doom didn't seem like a place she wanted to go, but it also intrigued Arya. And if it had the power to destroy the One Ring, which had been made out to be one of the most evil and corrupting objects in existence… Well, she doubted the journey there would be pleasant, for whoever had to make it. She was pulled from her thoughts when the grey-eyed man stood suddenly, his chair grinding audibly against the stone ground.
"I do not understand all this," he said. "Saruman is a traitor, but did he not have a glimpse of wisdom? Why do you speak ever of hiding and destroying? Wielding it, the Free Lords could surely defeat the enemy. That is what he fears most, I deem."
"We cannot use the Ruling Ring." Elrond said sternly. "Few have power to wield it, and those who do are in the greatest peril. The ring corrupts, Boromir. If any of the wise tried to use it, there would only be another Dark Lord to take Sauron's throne. If the ring is not destroyed, it will ever be a danger to all free peoples."
Boromir looked at him doubtfully, but sat back down and bowed his head. Elrond acknowledged him with a nod, turning back to address the group as a whole.
"The fate of the ring may lie in the South, if we seek to end its reign." He said. "And does not Edhellond lie also to the South? For that is where the Lady Arya was bidden go."
"Hold up." Colden interjected. "We did not agree to go to… Edel-whatever. You expect us to go on some journey just because some old guy said he heard a voice in the water?"
"That decision is yours to make." Said Elrond. "But I would urge you to go. For there a solution to all problems may be found. We could send a company to Mordor with the ring, and a company with Lady Arya to Edhellond. The first leg of the journey they could make together. Through their efforts, all ends would be reached."
"And why Arya?" Colden countered. "You don't even know who you're talking about. She is sister to the king of bloody Westeros-"
"Then perhaps she should decide." Gandalf broke in.
All eyes turned to Arya. She stilled, disliking all of the attention. Everyone was looking at her expectantly. She hadn't even really thought about the question at hand. Should she go? It seemed like a stupid thing to do, considering the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about this land or the people in it. But then she looked at Glorfindel. His eyes were sparkling as he watched her, as if he already knew what she was going to say. She eyed him curiously, head swimming with a strange energy. After a moment she leaned back, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"I'll go." She said.
Colden coughed incredulously. "What?"
"I said I'll go." Arya looked around at everyone. "I don't know any of you. I don't trust any of you. If anyone betrays me, I'll make sure they die. Painfully. But… I'll go. I want to go."
"B-But Arya!" Colden spluttered. "What about the crew? You can't just leave them!"
"They follow my orders." Arya reminded him. "They'll do as I command. But…" She hesitated, turning to face her companions. "I'm not asking any of you to come with me. This is a journey I can make on my own. Return to the ship and explain my decision to the others."
"Sorry, m'lady." Laeric said. "That's an order I'm gonna have to ignore. I vowed to stay with ye and protect ye, I did. And I like to think I'm a man of my word. I think we all are."
Barroth and Teidrin murmured their agreement, but Colden remained silent. Arya realized why. He was a mercenary, like he had said. He was under no obligation to stay with her, just to protect the ship. A shame, she thought. They could have used a good fighter like him. She smiled gratefully at Laeric, and he gave a kindly nod in return.
"I could travel with the rest of your crew by ship to Edhellond." Círdan offered. "One of your companions could accompany me on the way there, to provide assurance of your wellbeing."
"That should work." Arya agreed. "I'll send Laeric with you. He will return before we set out, won't he?"
"Indeed," Said Elrond. "We should not be too rash in our movements. One small slip could cost everything. And even now we have not yet decided on who shall take the Ring South. Strength and wisdom will be of little use on that perilous journey. Rather, it is a stout heart that will prevail. Too gladly would I send one of my household on the journey; Glorfindel here is of great power even among the elves of Rivendell. But to send him would be folly. His presence would do little, save to arouse the power of Mordor. So then the question remains. Who will go?"
No one said anything for a long moment. Small birds flew to and fro overhead, filling the empty silence with their staccato chirping. The rush of waterfalls could be heard distantly. Arya looked around the circle, scanning everyone's faces. She wondered who would take up the burden. Her gaze lingered on Boromir, the grey-eyed man. He seemed like a good candidate. Tall and strong, clearly experienced in battle. To her great surprise however, it was not Boromir who spoke first.
A small voice penetrated the tense silence. "I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way."
Arya turned with everyone else to look for the speaker. It was Frodo, perched in a chair far too large for him, somehow managing to look both nervous and confident at the same time. His eyes were wide, as if he himself were shocked by the words that had just escaped his mouth. Boromir gave a short laugh, but stopped when he saw that everyone else was regarding the hobbit seriously.
Elrond raised his eyebrows, his glance keen and penetrating. "If I understand all that I have heard," He said, "I think that this task is appointed to you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the great."
He paused, looking deep into Frodo's eyes. "I do not lay this task on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right."
Frodo seemed to think for a moment, cocking his head. He remained absolutely still, face stony, muscles tense. Everyone held their breaths. Finally, watching Elrond carefully, he gave a small, deliberate nod. Elrond smiled.
"But you won't be sending him off alone surely, Master?" A voice cried from nearby. Sam came into the circle to stand behind Frodo, a fire kindling in his eyes. Arya smiled to herself, watching him try to act fierce.
"No indeed." Elrond laughed. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret counsel and you are not."
Sam blushed but said nothing, obviously relieved.
"Other companions you shall have as well." Elrond continued, "But it is not my place to choose them for you now. That will be decided in the days to come. For now, rest here in Imladris. You shall set out in two fortnights."
The tension seemed to dissipate from the room, everybody talking and murmuring among themselves. Arya saw Colden scowling off to her side, obviously not pleased with the outcome. Tiedrin was dozing off, and Arya wondered if he even knew what had happened. Barroth and Laeric were watching Gandalf, who was giving some closing remarks as the council adjourned.
Slowly, people began to leave, filing out into the hallway they had taken to get there. Boromir was one of the first to go. His face betrayed an inner conflict, as if he were debating a matter of great importance. Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo left together, presumably to go find Merry and Pippin. Arya still marveled at Frodo's courage. He had no idea what he had just signed up for; only that the road was frought with danger. Yet he had still agreed to go. With a start, Arya realized that she herself had done something similar.
Had she really just done that? She frowned, wondering if she should take back her decision. But… no. She still wanted to go. She still felt like she needed to go. What would Sansa say, she wondered? The thought brought a sad smile to her lips. She might never see her sister again. But she had known that when she had set out on this adventure. This was no time to turn back.
Colden stood suddenly and stormed out of the room, pushing past several elves engaged in conversation. He didn't look back, just walked briskly away down the hallway. With a sigh, Arya stood and followed him.
She found him on a small ornate balcony not far from the meeting place, leaning against the rail, gazing into the distance. Arya moved to stand beside him, looking out on the valley. He made no sign of having noticed her. They stood like that for several minutes, the sounds of conversation slowly dying away behind them. After a moment, she sighed and looked up at his face.
"We'll be leaving soon. The other company should be decided before long. We'll have to travel with them." When Colden made no response, she continued. "I know you don't agree with my decision. I probably wouldn't either, if that makes any sense. But I want you to go with me."
He still said nothing, and Arya scowled in exasperation. "Seven hells, what will it take? How about I double whatever Sansa's paying you. Would that do it?"
Colden turned his head, and Arya saw that he was smiling. "Oh, that'll do it. Though for the record, I was planning on going with you anyway." He laughed when her scowl deepened. "But I thought I was a hotheaded, tactless smartmouth."
"You are."
He snorted. "So why do you want me?"
She thought for a moment. "Because packs need to stay together."
"And is that what we are? A pack?"
She gazed off, watching the elves return to their work around the valley. The hobbits were all gathered in a small courtyard below, exchanging news.
"I think that's what we have to be." She said, "If we're going to survive."