Me and Not You 1001, THIS IS FOR YOU! THANKS FOR REQUESTING THIS! *BLOWS KISSES* LOVE YOU!
SO I DON'T WASTE A HUGE AMOUNT OF TIME DOING AN ENTIRE NEW OPENING FOR THE WHOLE STORY, LET ME EXPLAIN HOW SHE GOT THERE THIS TIME, KAY?
BASICALLY, SHE WOKE UP ALMOST SITTING IN ONE OF THE STONE TROLLS' LAPS, RIGHT BEFORE ARAGORN AND THE HOBBITS STOPPED THERE ON THEIR WAY TO RIVENDELL. THEY DECIDED TO TAKE HER WITH THEM BECAUSE, AGAIN, THAT LIGHTNING SCREWED HER OVER PRETTY GOOD. AND ARWEN SAID ELROND AND GANDALF WERE LOOKING FORWARD TO MEETING HER.
HOPE YOU LIKE, MaNY! *blows more kisses*
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
"Sit straight."
"Of course."
"Don't speak unless directly addressed." I nod, barely refraining from rolling my eyes.
"Yessir."
"Also, please remain seated." I found that a little offensive, but agreed. After all, Elrond had the run of the place. He was Lord of Imladris (or Rivendell, to put in 'the Common Tongue'). I had to respect his wishes if I wanted to be anywhere near the counsel. And Gandalf kinda insisted I be present.
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I actually have no idea why I am here. It's so boring! Everyone is still gathering and all the guys do is stare at me. I try my hardest not to scowl at them and snap out a 'I'm not an exhibit! Stop staring!' as time ticks by and more people arrive. One man, wearing an almost regal outfit that was well-traveled by the looks of it, with grey-blue eyes and shaggy strawberry blonde hair, seemed to be paying the most attention to me, more out of curiosity than anything else, I think.
Some of them are really short, with full beards and gruff but friendly enough voices. They eye me curiously and a few even introduce themselves. Gloin and his son Gimli are their names. Gimli is a pleasant fellow who almost seems to be from my native Scotland, so we connect immediately.
I couldn't help it! After waking up, seeing those stone...things (I think someone called them Trolls?) and having strangers run in on me and set up camp like they owned the place, it was refreshing to feel like I was back in Inverness again. Unfortunately, once our conversation was over, it was back to silently waiting for the counsel to begin.
Elrond and the final guests arrived (finally!) arrived, Gandalf (the nutty elderly gentleman who'd greeted me as if we'd known each other all our lives when we met) and the Lord of Rivendell holding a last-minute whispered conversation before the pair sat down. Gandalf sat between me and a raven haired small man everyone called a 'halfling', though I don't know what that is. He had at least nodded politely at me, asking what my name was. I told him and he introduced himself as Frodo Baggins of the Shire. I'd nodded, but before I could reply, Gandalf was seated and the counsel began, and I was mute again. Gimli nodded to me and I nodded back as Elrond began speaking.
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." I was so tempted to raise my hand like at school and ask what Mordor was, but respect Elrond's wishes. Besides, it doesn't take too much to deduce that Mordor was the bad guys' home turf. "Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it." I swallow. Well, that was foreboding. Apparently, everyone shares my sentiments, cus everyone exchanges uneasy looks. "You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is tied to this fate, this one doom." He declares gravely. I raise a brow. What could be that bad? "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." The absurdity of that statement sinks in a second later. Bring out the what?
"Huh?" I ask before I stop myself. Then pale as I remember I was supposed to be mute. Thankfully, no one seems to have even noticed as the Halfling steps toward a small dais in the center of the 'room' (more of a patio-type thing, really) and digs something out of his pocket. Sure enough, it's a simple gold band. "Looks like a wedding ring, really." Elrond clearing his throat alerts me to the fact that I said that out loud. I blush and look at the ground, mumbling an apology under my breath.
"So it does, lass." Gimli replies, winking. I immediately feel better, smiling and giving him a thumbs up. Then, the man with the strawberry blonde hair tilts his head.
"If I may, just how is it that a lady- -wearing trousers no less- -is present and speaking without being addressed?" I narrow my eyes.
"I have as much right as anyone to be here, sir. And trousers are far more comfortable than dresses, in my opinion." This sets off a low rumble of whispers. Mostly, something to the tune of 'who is this woman?' 'How dare she address the son of Denethor in that manner!' I set my jaw and stand. "I am Rowena O'Neil of Inverness, Scotland, and I'll grant I'm new to Middle-Earth, but- -seriously?! Why can't a woman be present at these things?! Seems to me this meeting might benefit from a fresh perspective, woman or no woman!" I roar, not sure where the words were coming from, but liking them, anyway. Silence greets my words and I suddenly realize I've just broken pretty much every rule Elrond had respectfully and reasonably set out. Mr. Strawberry Hair stares at me as if I had just appeared from thin air. Perhaps, to them, I had. And then I'd opened my stupid mouth.
Gandalf, shockingly, smiles and stands, patting my shoulder.
"Precisely why I insisted you be here, my dear." He then turns to the assembled men. "Now, let us begin discussions." He announces with a clear, authoritative voice. The man from before (the one who demanded to know what I was doing in the council at all) stood, staring at the golden band on the dias.
"In a dream," He announces, speaking as if lost in thought and not quite aware of all he was saying, "I saw the Eastern sky grow dark, but in the West, a pale light lingered." He explains, rubbing his temple like he had a headache. "A voice was crying, 'your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found.'" I noted with confusion and apprehension that as Boromir spoke he strode, as if irresistibly drawn, toward the dias and the Ring (yeah, it seemed a big enough deal for a capitalization), eyes locked onto the little band like he'd never look away. "Isildur's Bane." He repeats reverently, then slowly reaches out to grab the Ring. Elrond's entire being darkens and he stands before I even knew he'd moved.
"Boromir!" He snaps. Then, Gandalf stands and starts speaking in some foreign tongue that seems to make the world more frightening and foreboding, my heart pounding and blood roaring in my ears like my worst nightmare had come true. Everyone else seems to have a similar reaction to the language, but the Elves seem most affected. I clap my hands over my ears and shrink back into my seat.
"For Dia's sake, dude, just sit down so Gandalf will shut up!" I roar, and Boromir, looking the most uncertain and terrified I've seem him, does so. I slowly take my hands away from my ears, breathing heavily in the wake of those awful words. Everyone is breathing heavily, tense in the aftermath of such a fright.
"Never before has any voice uttered words in that tongue here in Imladris." Elrond snaps testily at Gandalf.
"For good reason!" I mutter under my breath.
"I do not ask your pardon, Lord Elrond," Gandalf says, but I can tell he slightly regrets the effect it had on his friend. "For the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" He snaps, glaring at the man who'd nearly taken the Ring (Boromir, I think Elrond called him?) over his shoulder. "The Ring is altogether evil!" He warns severely. I stare at it with new eyes. That thing looked so...simple, so...oddly alluring. If i listened carefully enough, I could hear whispers in a strange, yet almost beautiful tongue, speaking promises of power and my heart's desire, if only I would slip it on. And I found I nearly wanted to. It was a creepy feeling to have for a ring. I shake myself and the whispers fade as I look around, and notice Boromir was shaking his head.
"It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor." He says slowly, standing again.
"Boromir, didn't you hear Gandalf?" I retort, standing myself. "That thing is evil!"
"Nay, milady. Hear me out, at least." Boromir counters. "Why not use the Ring?"
"Because it's evil!" I snap. Boromir glowers at me testily.
"Long has my father, Steward of Gondor, kept the Forces of Mordor at bay, Rowena! By the blood of my people are these lands safe!" I frown.
"That doesn't give you the right to use the Ring!"
"I am merely saying this council should give Gondor the Weapon of the Enemy! Let us use it against him!"
"Are you insane?! Have you not been listening this entire time?!" I snap.
"The lady Rowena is correct, Boromir. You can't wield it. No one can!" Aragorn adds. "It owes allegiance to Sauron alone; it has no other master!" Boromir looks down his nose at my friend.
"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?"
"Hey!" I snap, but then one of the Elves, an incredibly handsome young-looking man with almost white blonde hair braided back and piercing but wise blue eyes stands, angry at the insult to Aragorn.
"That is no mere Ranger! That is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and you owe him your allegiance." He snaps. Arathorn looks almost embarrassed, motioning for us to sit back down.
But it was too late; the name had been spoken, whatever it really means. It evidently means something, cus everyone's murmuring and looking in shock at Aragorn, who seems to want to sink down into the ground and vanish.
"Aragorn?" Boromir parrots curiously, eying Aragorn with an unreadable expression. "This is Isildur's Heir?" He asks, almost in a mocking tone. The Elf who'd stood up for my friend narrows his eyes more.
"And heir to the Throne of Gondor." I snap my head to Aragorn. Whoa...he was a Crown Prince? Dang.
"Please, sit down, my friends." Aragorn mumbles, looking sheepish and embarrassed.
"Gondor has no king." Boromir growls, obviously feeling threatened by Aragorn's superior rank. "Gondor needs no king."
"That was a touch awkward." I mumble to myself as I sit back down, watching as Aragorn and Boromir eye each other, Boromir angry but Aragorn merely resigned now that the truth of his identity had been revealed.
"Aragorn is right." Gandalf points out after a few awkward seconds of silence. "We cannot use it." Elrond then stands to add his two cents.
"We have only one choice; the Ring must be destroyed." Everyone seems uncomfortable with this idea, but none more than Boromir. I decide I should keep my eyes open where he's concerned.
"What are we waiting for?!" Gimli demands, grabbing his ax. Before anyone could protest, he slams the ax onto the golden band, shattering the ax and sending debris ricocheting everywhere and the Dwarf (yes, Dwarf) reeling backwards toward his kin. One piece lands a nice gash right over my left eye and I clamp a hand to it.
"Gimli!" I bark. "That thing isn't an ordinary Ring! Ow, geez!" I whimper, keeping pressure on the wound.
"Rowena!" Gimi cries, once he's regained his footing. "Sorry, lass. I don't know what I was thinking." I hiss in pain but then manage a smile.
"It's alright. You just did what you thought would work."
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess." Elrond informs the baffled Dwarf with a hint of amusement, the tiniest of smirks on his face. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." The tension rose as Elrond took a pause to lay more emphasis on his coming words. "One of you must do this." Awkward silence reigned. I knew- -or rather, guessed- -that a woman would not be allowed to carry out the task, even if I volunteered, so I kept my mouth shut.
"One does not simply walk into Mordor." Boromir murmurs despondently. "It's Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. The Great Eye is ever watchful. 'Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash and dust. The very air you breath is a poisonous fume." Boromir sighs hopelessly. "Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."
"Well, doesn't sound like we got a choice, Boromir." I reply tentatively. Then, the Elf from before stands again, rage contorting his handsome features.
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?!" He snaps.
"I'm sure he has, sir." I reply, standing as well. "He seems to know more about Mordor than anyone else, however. Perhaps he has a valid point."
"The Ring must be destroyed!" Legolas protests. I roll my eyes.
"I'm not debating that. No one is. I'm just saying Boromir may have a point." I retort, getting tired of talking on circles and never reaching a decision.
"And I suppose you two think you're the ones to do it?!" Gimli roars indignantly.
"No, that's- -"
"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir interjects, cutting through my reply, standing in anger. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?!"
"We're just arguing in circles!" I snap suddenly. " No one is debating that the Ring is evil, Sauron needs to be kept from the Ring, and that we must destroy this thing. All we need further discuss is who is going to go to Mordor." I point out, coming to stand between the man and Elf, exchanging an exasperated look with Aragorn.
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli roars, standing testily.
"Gimli, I wasn't saying- -" Too late. Every Elf in the room (except Elrond) stood and protested Gimli's statement heatedly. All at once, to boot.
"Never trust an Elf!" Gimli adds, glaring at the hot-headed blonde Elf, who was barely holding his fellow Elves back.
"Hey! That was uncalled for!" I snap back, but again my words had no effect and the bickering continued.
"Do you all not understand?!" Gandalf shouts, standing to join in the fray as I give up and sit. "As we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron's power grows! None can escape it! You'll all be destroyed!"
Then, as the bickering reached a climax, a sudden realization came to me. That Ring was aggravating everyone. It was making them argue needlessly, wasting precious time. Now, I could hear the whispers as loudly as if someone were speaking directly into my ear. Gone was the sweetness and temptation it once had. Now, it was demanding I stand and fight their viewpoints with my own, to make everyone see that I alone was right, that I alone knew the truth.
The whispers grow so much in volume, I can't hear any of the arguing and suddenly, my head starts pounding and I grimace, rubbing my temples.
"You, too?" Frodo asks, a look of sheer pain on his face. I nod, then decide to do something, rather than nothing.
"Shut up!" I scream. Miraculously, silence is achieved. I step into the middle of the group of men. "Don't you all get it?!" I snap. "This is precisely what Sauron wants! The only people able to resist him, torn apart and bickering like spoiled children! Grow up, get this done, or Sauron will take over!" Then, something truly shocking happens; Frodo stands, hands clenching in determination.
"I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor!" He cries. Gandalf seems to have foreseen this and nods.
"The Lady Rowena and I" he says, sweeping a hand to me, "will help you bear this burden, as long as it is yours to bear." He says. I frown.
"Um...and if I don't want to go?" I ask. Gandalf seems shocked and I cross my arms, but privately crumble in excitement over actually being a part of the book series my father introduced me to and loved to talk with me about at length. "I'm not saying I don't want to go, but...if I really don't want to?" Gandalf smiles a knowing smile instantly know means he's on to me, stepping closer.
"My dear Rowena, you are, of course, free to remain here in Imladris as long as you like, or explore all Middle-Earth has to offer on your own." That does it. I groan, pinch the bridge of my nose even as I step toward the Hobbit and wizard.
"Fine. You win. Let's destroy a wedding ring." I mumble, crossing my arms and standing with the pair, glaring at the smirking older man.
This would not end well, would it?