Lady of the Shield-Hand

by dir4133

Loena, Horse-Mistress of the Riddermark, is the heir to a destitute familial tie. The line of Baldor had been great once, and celebrated, but after generations of neglect, had fallen into nothingness. As the dark grows, and the power of Orthanc strengthens, Loena joins of the quest of the Ring for the sake of her name, and to protect land she so loves. No MS, 10th Walker

6. A Formation

In the dining hall, Loena, Elladan and Elrohir were stopped by the sight of three forlorn looking hobbits.

"These must be Estel's companions," the one on her right, whom Loena had decided must be "Elladan" (until she was proven wrong) said thoughtfully. "I wonder at their forlorn expressions! Surely they must have heard the news that their friend is well."

"Which one is Estel?" Loena asked, looking across the room.

"The man over there, the proud one, with dark hair and brooding look," the other, now labelled Elrohir, said, pointing to where the named man sat.

Loena frowned and tilted her head. "Is that not Strider?"

"Strider!" Elladan said. "Well yes, it is. He is both Strider, and Estel, and by the language of his kin also called Aragorn. Which of the three her prefers, I know not. Us Elves call him Estel, for it was the name given to him by our people, and it was the name he was called for the first 20 years of his life."

"He seems like one from Gondor," Leona frowned, assessing him quickly. Tall, proud and dark; like the Steward and his sons that she'd met so many years ago.

"His tale is for him to tell, though I promise it is an exciting one," Elladan said.

"Come," Elrohir said. "Let us see what bothers our shire-dwelling friends."

Loena led their approach, feeling uncomfortably visible in the company of the Lord's two sons. The hobbits attempted a half smile as she approached, but she saw that none would reach their eyes.

"Good eve, Sam," Loena nodded to him, smiling. "To Pippin, and Merry too." She gestured to the two beside her. "These are Elladan and Elrohir, our lord host's sons."

"Hullo, Loena," Pippin said, by his countenance alone still the most cheerful of the three. "And hello elves! We met your sister earlier, though it were under rather strained circumstances."

"Arwen has told us of your four arrival," Elladan said. "And," he added. "The nature of Frodo's escape across the Ford."

"We met Glorfindel as well," Merry piped up, the next to recover from his downturned face. "He's a strapping Elf, and a clever fellow as well."

"We came over to seek the cause of your sadness," Loena said. She was focusing on Sam, who was watching the proceedings with a miserable attentiveness. "Tell me, Sam, what troubles you now?"

"Mr. Frodo is awake, but Gandalf has forbidden us folk from visitin' him in his chambers," Sam said, and Pippin patted him on the back soothingly. "I won't sit still or pretty until I see him recovered with my own two eyes!"

"Ah! Well then we are well met," Elrohir said. "For we were just talking with Bilbo, who'd said that his many hours of petitioning had come to something finally, and that Gandalf had allowed him into Frodo's room."

Sam sat bolt upright. "You don't mean to say, that you think we are allowed to go as well, now?"

"Elladan and I have a rather undignified philosophy when it comes to matters such as these," Elrohir said. Loena started at the Elf mentioning his brother's name, and quickly memorised which brother was which, crossing her fingers for the side Elrohir stood. She was under no illusion though, that once she lost them to her left and her right, that she would have no idea how to tell them apart. "It would be better, in cases such as these, to plead Gandalf's forgiveness, than seek his permission."

Merry and Pippin's faces split into wide grins.

"Well said sir," Pippin beamed.

"We'll let you go in first, Sam," Merry added drily, as Sam, unseeing and without hearing, stumbled out of his chair and rushed from the hall, his little hobbit feet pattering on the ground as he ran. Once Sam had disappeared, Merry turned to Pippin. "We should give him some time alone."

"Very well," Pippin said, pulling more food onto his plate. He shrugged. "I suppose we'll have plenty of opportunity to check Frodo's health on the journey home."

Elladan, Elrohir and Loena left the hobbits to their eating, and found a swarth of chairs near where Elrond sat, high above the congregation. They served only light meals, for the heavier feast would be served later on in the night.

It was a night of celebration, it seemed, for after the food had been finished, Loena and her new acquaintances exited the hall and made a slow pilgrimage through Rivendell, where the Elves had gathered to make merry. Loena had always thought the Elves very distant, and very stern, but among them she saw how they laughed, and teased. There was still a brevity to the proceedings, and the feeling of a great unfolding of history.

Many great songs, some ill, and some full of cheer, were sung by the elves that night.

Elladan and Elrohir, wearied by their travels, left her a few hours before the moon had reached its zenith. Loena was left to walk around and watch the elves, dwarves and hobbits talk and laugh under the grand expanse of stars. She felt very obviously alone, and awkward. She was kept from racing back to her bedchambers, however, by a deep feeling of awe.

A great table had been set, full to creaking of the fine food of the Elves. Around her, soft lights emanated from the sides of houses, set in metal and stone with the magic of the Elves. The stars overhead were as bright as candlelight. They were so real, and so near, that she felt as though she might reach up and touch them. All around her the Elves rose their voices together in song. She was caught up in it, and felt so blessed to be witnessing it.

She was still relieved to be saved by Arwen, who called her over.

The Evenstar was sitting with her father, and the tall, dark man Elrohir and Elladan had named Estel, Strider, and Aragorn, at the end of the mighty table upon which they'd eat at the late night feast. Despite his height, and the stern set of his mouth, he bowed to her upon her introduction, and his eyes had smile, and kindness, in them.

"I have been often to Rohan, my lady," Strider said, after she had taken her seat beside Arwen. "Though I have not been recently."

"Ah, then you must come to Edoras, and feast with us in Meduseld," Loena said, smiling. "For there is nowhere on this earth that can measure to the wit and friendliness of my people." She paused, and then towards Elrond, she said, "Hospitality, however, is the domain of the Rivendell Elves, my Lord."

Elrond smiled, and Arwen laughed a tinkering, brook laugh that lifted Loena's spirits. "Flattery must be that which belongs to the Rohirrim, as well."

"Lord Aragorn—" Loena started, curious about the many names he carried, but Arwen interrupted, eyes locked across the way.

"Ada," she said, eyes widening. "Does the Ringbearer sit there?" She looked surprised, but pleased. "Has he recovered his strength so quickly?"

The small party turned to look, and all saw a small hobbit, dark of hair, hastily avert his eyes as if caught out. He was accompanied by a much older Dwarf, who sat perhaps a foot taller than the hobbit, and seemed content sitting and talking almost entirely to himself.

"Ah, yes," Elrond nodded. "He has a remarkable gift of spirit." For Loena's benefit, he said; "This is Frodo Baggins. He was the Hobbit impaled by the Nazgúl's blade."

After a turn, Loena again had an opportunity to speak with the dark Ranger. The conversation had dimmed, and the food before them had been mostly finished.

She caught his attention, and described her curiosity.

"Elladan and Elrohir told me that it was a story worth hearing," Loena told him, once she'd secured his attention. She looked to Arwen and Elrond, who were talking to each other in Elvish, and back to Frodo, who'd kept stealing glances down their end of the table. "What did they mean by that?"

Aragorn regarded her for a moment. "Have you eaten to your full?"

She frowned, glancing first down at her emptied plate, then back to Aragorn. "I am, though—"

"There is somewhere in Rivendell that will make this tale easier," Aragorn told her, and as he stood, she found herself standing with him. Curiosity coursed through her veins, lighter and more compelling than wine.

The two made their leave, bowing to Arwen and Elrond, skirting along the edges of the hall.

It was not a long walk, and Loena recognised where they were once they had passed over the threshold of the hall. It was the gallery Arwen had showed her earlier that day, with the shards of Elendil's sword, still sharp, lain on a bed of velvet. It was dark in there now, without the soft light from the sun filtering in. It made it difficult to see the great painting on the wall, a scene she now recognised well. The severing of the dark lord's fingers, the success of the free people of middle earth.

Loena strained her eyes to make it out. The ring on Sauron's fingers, gold and stark against the black of his gloved fingers, caught her attention. It had a script on it, a strange demonic language painted in a hateful red.

"I see you have spotted Sauron's master weapon," Aragorn said, following her gaze. "The One Ring."

"I keep thinking I recognise some of the characters, but I do not." Loena frowned, turning her head slightly. "This world…Night? Perhaps? Though, my tutor would have had me whipped if I had formed my letters like this."

"And in the darkness bind them," Aragorn corrected her, voice soft. "It is not in any form of Elvish known by Free men today. This is the language of Morgoth, the dead, evil words of Mordor." He glanced down at her, with something akin to admiration. "This cursed language aside, I did not know of the Rohirrim to teach their children Sindarin."

"I can read it a little," Loena shrugged. "I can't speak it, or understand it when spoken, though. I was educated in Gondor, for a time, and my tutor insisted. It is their first language, after all."

Aragorn laughed at that. "I have not known Gondor to speak much other than Westron."

"Neither have I," Loena smiled. Her tutor had spoken Sindarin, and so had the highborn nobles her tutor had also taught. Sometimes Loena would wander the city and hear the odd snatch of a Sindarin phrase. It was only really a language learnt for the status learning it brought.

From there, Aragorn bid her sit on one of the stone chairs around them. Using the painting, and the sword, he explained that he was the heir to Isildur, prophesised to wield Isildur's sword once more, and that his coming would restore the age of kings to Gondor. He showed her the ring Elrond had given him when his fate had been told to him, he told her of the Númenorians he travelled with in the North, and how their line had dwindled.

"When the hobbit called you a Ranger from the North, I thought I must have been ill when my mind pressed that point to me," Loena said, voice barely a whisper. She regarded Aragorn anew, standing before the portrait of his ancestor. His regal face and stern countenance made sudden sense to her now. "The line restored…" she drifted and shook her head. "I cannot imagine the joy of Gondor."

Aragorn sensed something awry in her mood. "What moves you, my lady?"

"Nothing to concern you with, Aragorn," she assured him. "I am my mother's daughter, is all. My family, for generations, have concerned ourselves with little more than restoring the glory of our house." She smiled. "I think I know now why Gandalf intended for us to meet."

"The house of Baldor," Aragorn said, and she started with surprise. He looked as though he made to say something more, then hesitated, but then spoke; "And the daughter's who had inherited it."

She peered up at him, perplexed. "Is this some strange trick of kings? To know the fore-fathers of a person before them?"

Aragorn laughed again, and where Arwen's had been sweet and clear, his was deep and tolling. "Gandalf told me some about you, I must admit. And when I met you, I thought also of something Galadriel once said to me, about your line in Rohan, and how it tied to the restoring of a great age."

"You have met Galadriel?" Loena's head spun, and her words were light. "Galadriel mentioned my house to you?"

"We spoke of many things."

"I should hope to meet her, one day," Loena breathed. "And talk to her about Baldor myself."

Aragorn paused for a moment. "Your family has a long history, my Lady."

Loena tilted her head, confused. "Yes, but it is Baldor's name that I protect. Am I not to want to speak to her of him?"

Aragorn tightened the muscles around his jaw, just once, but masked it well with a smile. "Of course! And If you remain friends with Gandalf, that may become available to you," He looked around, and Loena realised the lateness of the hour. "I should take my leave, my Lady. The Hall of Fire shall be an enticing alternative to sleep tonight. I dare not miss it."

"I dare, I am afraid," Loena said, feeling exhaustion push down on her eyelids.

They walked together for a little way, and separated as Loena made for her bed, and Aragorn for the light and laughter of the Elvish celebrations.

As she made her way alone through the night, the sounds of movement stilled her, just for a moment. She paused and waited, hearing the distinct sound of a horse breathing heavily. She turned instinctively on her heel and made her way silently towards the sound, curious at who could have been riding so late in the evening. She heard, as she crept, a man give a tired laugh of relief.

"If only we'd put more trust into maps," the man said, and when Loena came to the corner, she saw him clasp his horse on its neck, smiling tiredly. She recognised him as a Gondorian, adorned in their dark colours, his hair and colouring their noble stature. She no longer warried of him, and walked out confidently toward him.

He spotted her soon thereafter, and called to her with a smile; "Hello! Do you come to welcome us? Though to my eyes you are no elf."

"Discerning eyes, despite the dark," Loena said, stopping just beside the new arrival. She instinctively held her hand out for the horse to nuzzle. It nickered softly, steam rising off its back where the sweat of hard riding met the cool, brisk evening air. "I am a woman, of Men. And you, sir, have an exhausted horse."

"You are not the look of Gondor," the man said. "Golden hair is rare in our lands."

"Loena, Lady of Rohan," Loena said, and bowed to him.

"Boromir," he nodded back. "Captain Gondor. I'd find our host and apologise for the lateness, but I fear I'll be waking him."

"There would be no chance of that, I have it on good authority that they will all be up for many more hours," she said absently, studying his face. She recognised him, deeply, from somewhere. She could not shake the feeling. Loena started, remembering a young boy with auburn hair, a polite smile and bored eyes. "Ah! We have met before!."

Boromir's eyes widened. "We have?"

"Are you the son of your Steward?"

Boromir nodded slowly. "Indeed, I am."

Loena pulled back from the horse, and pushed it, slightly, as its head followed her. She grinned, feeling oddly nostalgic for her time in Gondor. "Yes! I met you every year that I arrived in Gondor for my learning. You would have been young, and you would have met many like me."

"I remember very well how my brother and I were coerced into those long meetings," Boromir chuckled. "We shook the hands of many people, my Lady. I apologise that your face is not one that I remember."

"I would have been more surprised if you had," she assured him. Movement stirred behind her, and she turned to survey it. Behind her was an accumulating gathering of elves. One, she just recognised, was Glorfindel, a blonde elf with a cheerful face, and then next to him a female elf she didn't recognise. Another arrived behind them just as she watched. "It seems as though your proper welcome entourage has arrived. With that, I will make for my bed."

"Shall I see you tomorrow, Lady?" Boromir called as she began to pull away. "I was worried I would only have the company of elves during my time here. I am glad to see that I am wrong."

"You come for the council, do you not?" Loena asked, attempting shrewdness.

Loena had thought herself clever, but Boromir seemed to have no instant understanding of the council she spoke of. "I do not, though if there is a council, then I will make it my mission to attend."

"Then our meeting is quite likely," Loena said. She turned on her heel and began to walk. "Farewell, Boromir of Gondor!"

The day of the council was one that started quite early. Loena hoisted herself from her bed to sit on her windowsill, legs kicking idly down against the wall. The sun was rising, its light a pale, lingering yellow over the city before her. From where she was sitting, she could see another elf walking through the courtyard below her feet. He had a green and brown garb, and star coloured hair. She gazed upon him for a minute; as he first paused to look at the sun, then as he reached up his hand as if to greet it, and then finally dropped her gaze as he walked off, bow in tow, in the direction of the archery field Arwen had shown her the day before.

Loena was struck with apprehension for the Council. There was so much still to know – she knew of Strider and his origins, she knew that races from around Middle Earth had come today, she knew that she had been brought as a friend of Gandalf's. She knew Saurman and Sauron were stoking the fires of war, she knew that Gandalf thought she had a part to play, and she knew that she felt, desperately and bravely, that she had a big part to play as well.

She missed her mother, and her home. The sunrise here was, though beautiful, as cold as the light of the moon. It felt paled against the golden heat of her homeland. As the moments progressed, the little courtyard below her filled up more and more.

She found herself watching two Dwarves, one whom she'd seen speaking with Frodo the night before, and another whom looked similar enough to him in stature and colouring that it could have been his son. From her vantage point, she was too distant to see if youth could be discerned from his face. Nonetheless, they too, walked off before she could make any final, firm judgments.

"My Lady?" A voice startled her from behind, and she felt herself tipping back, losing her grip on the window and crumpling to the floor of her room. "My Lady!"

The voice rushed towards her, and helped her sit upright. It was the same female elf who'd brought her to her rooms the night before. Loena's cheeks blazed when she realised how unheroic she'd managed to make herself look.

"Are you alright?" the elf asked quickly, fussing over Loena's hair, which had fallen into her face, and her tunic, which had twisted itself around her body in the excitement.

"Fine, fine," Loena waved her off quickly, and hurried to her feet. She swayed a little, the blood rushing down from her head. "Ah…sorry. I'm feeling a bit lightheaded."

"You have time for a quick breakfast before the council," the elf told her. Loena wished she could remember her name, though she supposed it was too late to ask her now. "Shall I bring it up? Or are you feeling strong enough to come eat it in the Dining Hall?"

"I'll come down!" Loena nearly squeaked. She did her best to compose herself. She cleared her throat. "Thank you, no. I will dress for the Council and come down. Thank you for coming to find me."

The Elf bowed and moved to the door, but was stopped by another of her kin. "Merewen," the newcomer said, greeting Loena's friend.

Loena hastily memorised "Merewen", tracing the name soundlessly with her lips as she did so.

"Elrond has requested you accompany the Lady Arwen today—"

"Of course," Merewen said, inclining her head. She looked back to Loena worriedly. "Will you be alright to get to the Dining Hall by yourself?"

"Yes," Loena said tetchily. She remembered her manners and inclined her head. "Thank you."

Both disappeared, and Loena ran her hands over her face, steeling herself. She must already look like a child to these people, barely 25 summers old, and a head shorter than almost every other elf she'd met. She needed to do better. She was the representative of her people here. They could not think Rohan weak, they would not.

Rohan was a young country still, carved out of an old dominion of Gondor. Ever it dwelled in Gondor's shadow, and for thousands of years, it had remained content there. For the Golden Age Galadriel had predicted to come, there could be no missteps, or falling awkwardly off windowsills.

Loena cursed herself, kicked angrily at the floor, and made her way down, moodily, to breakfast.

The council had already begun to gather when Loena arrived. She watched them all with increasing trepidation and smoothed her hand over the front of her dress self-consciously. The elves wore silken robes, with high buttons, in colours of silver, blue and gold. The dwarves wore armour that shone in the sunlight, and their beards had been plaited and groomed for the council. She saw that Boromir, whom she could see had dark hair and grey eyes in the morning light, outshone her as well, with a leather tunic with the standard of Gondor, the white tree, emblazoned across the front. Across his back was strung a mighty horn, white and silver.

She brushed her hair across the back of her shoulders and lifted her chin, stalking into the gathering confidently. Some looked at her as she passed, but most continued on with their conversations. She beelined for Boromir, who had already chosen a seat.

"Lady of Rohan," he nodded to her as she approached. "I must confess, I did not expect to see any women in attendance here today."

"I did not expect to see you here at all," Loena said back, ignoring the sting. She suddenly felt oddly as though she were representing both her entire country, as well as her entire sex. "I thought you'd be sleeping off your journey."

"It was a long one, aye," Boromir nodded. "Though I think I have energy enough to sustain me through this meeting."

"I hope it should not be so dull as to send you to sleep," Loena said, smiling her jest.

Boromir laughed. "I fear it won't be, though I hope it is. If Elrond is to ascend, and tell us that Sauron has come to him, and said 'I shall fight no more!' I will be a contented man."

"Contented and probably sleeping," Loena said.

Aragorn arrived next, not in the garb of the elves, but in simple clothes made of cheap cloth. Loena realised that these must be the clothes worn by the Rangers as they spent their lives on the moors. It suited him well, strangely, and he seemed more comfortable in them than the kingly robes Elrond had dressed him in during his stay. Loena felt suddenly much better about her own garb, and eased the jaw that she hadn't realised she'd been clenching.

She nodded to Aragorn, and smiled, and he did the same to her.

Elrond arrived after that, greeting all he passed, and ringing the bell that called for the beginning of the council.

A strange hush descended, and all turned to see Gandalf arrive with Frodo, and a much older, and far more confident, hobbit. Frodo baulked at the attention, and remained close beside Gandalf, peering at each of the people around him with equal parts curiosity and nervousness. Loena and Boromir spoke amicably until Elrond arose, each took to their seats, and the council began.

He presented Frodo first, sat in a position of honour by his side. "Here, my friends, is the Hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent."

For the benefit of the council, he announced each person who gathered there. The elf Loena had seen in the courtyard was named "Legolas", and he came from Mirkwood on an errand from his King father. The Dwarves she had seen, first talking to Frodo, and then walking together below her at sunrise, were named Glóin and Gimli, and she had been right to presume Gimli Glóin's son. The older Hobbit who'd accompanied Frodo was called "Bilbo", and shared Frodo's last name that Loena presumed him Frodo's uncle, or grandfather. Boromir was introduced as a man from the south, and she as a Shield-Maiden of Rohan.

From there, the council commenced.

Glóin spoke first; a long tale about the current troubles of the dwarves at their home in the Lonely Mountain. He spoke of the silence from their cousins in the mountain home of Moria.

Elrond acknowledged his tale with a grimness. "You have done well to come. You will hear today all that you need in order to understand the purposes of the enemy. Here is naught that you can do, other than resist, with hope or without it. But you do not stand alone. You will learn that your trouble is but part of the trouble of all the western world. The Ring!"

There was a collective murmuring, and Loena's eyes widened. The Ring of Sauron? The one Aragorn's ancestor had struck from the hand of its master?

"That is the reason you were called hither," Elrond said, and Loena shifted in her seat, mind whirling. "Now, therefore, things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden from all but a few until this day. And first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from the beginning even to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others will end it."

Loena knew much of the first part of the story from her instruction in History in Gondor, from the songs sung in Meduseld, and from her mother's own understanding, passed down generation to generation across her family. The forging of the rings to the mustering of Elves and Men under Gil-galad and Elendil, to the triumph of Isildur.

"Isildur took it, as should not have been," Elrond said, with all the same cold bitterness as he must've felt that night. "It should have been cast then into the fire, but he took to treasure it, and claimed it for the sake of his people. But soon the Ring betrayed him to his death; and so the Northerners name it Isildur's Bane."

Loena was perplexed, eyes wide, looking around the council and seeing only the Dwarves and the son of Gondor beside her as visibly moved as she. The tale had never ended, but Loena had always presumed that the Ring had been destroyed, or buried.

"The Ring was lost," Elrond said, as if reading her thoughts. "But not unmade. The Dark Tower was broken, but while the Ring survives, so too does the power of Mordor.

"Frodo, bring forth the ring."

Loena's eyes fixated, unblinking, on the sight of Frodo walking timidly across the way, depositing the Ring onto the table between them all, and hurrying back. Loena stared at the thing; a small, simple band of gold. It seemed so unbelievably small, so recklessly tiny. No wonder it had been lost.

The sun glinted off the gold, but Loena dared not blink. She swore she heard something call to her, beg to her, to take the ring, return to Rohan, establish herself and save her people. The call was so strong she had to dig her fingers into the side of her chair to escape it.

Beside her, Loena heard Boromir gasp. "So it is true," he whispered, softly, and with reverence. He called to his feet, and his movement shocked Loena away from her staring at the Ring. "It is a gift! A gift to the Foes of Mordor! In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond; a hundred and ten days I have travelled alone, following the mission given to my brother in a dream. This Ring must be the dream's intent." He moved nearer to it, and stared to it, as entranced as Loena had been.

From the corner of the room, a great darkness gathered and spread, and from where he was sitting, Gandalf began to chant a deep, twisted, disturbing language. Loena felt her stomach clench, and her nails dug further into the wood of her chair. Gandalf roared out, and each around Loena were equally affected, bowing their heads and holding their hands by the sides of their face.

As the darkness passed, and Gandalf sat once more, Elrond looked to Gandalf, agitated.

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard from every corner of the West!" Gandalf cried.

"Why not use the Ring?" Agitated, insistent, Boromir was unperturbed and faced the council fearlessly. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

Aragorn, so silent for the duration of the council, spoke now, his voice clear and commanding. "You cannot wield it! The Ring answers to Sauron alone, it has no other master."

Loena felt the truth of his words, and yet, and yet, the ring called to her, stirring something deep inside her.

"What would a Ranger know of this?" Boromir turned, and Loena saw the true anger in the tightness of his neck.

"Boromir," she snapped.

"This is no mere ranger," the green-brown Elf introduced as Legolas stood sharply. He glared down Boromir. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you own him your allegiance."

Aragorn murmured something in elvish Loena couldn't understand, but Legolas seemed to obey it, taking back to his seat.

"Gondor has no king," Boromir said sourly. "It needs no king." He turned around, and looked at each gathered with a deep disappointment. "You neglect us, you neglect the sacrifice we've made. Each of you have no idea of the amount of blood spilt of my lands to keep evil at bay."

"The blood of your lands?" Loena snarked from her seat, pulling her gaze from the Ring. "The hour grows dire from every corner of the world, and every race of Men faces the growing threat. It is not the blood of Gondor, son of Denethor, that repels the powers of Orthanc. It is not the deaths of Gondor, but Rohan, that have been occurring with increasing regularity as your lordless father turns his blind eye. Rohan and Gondor swore an oath once, and now you have left us to wallow away."

"It is not for Gondor to secure the wild lands of wild people," Boromir seemed shocked by her outburst, but spat his retort nonetheless. "Sauron has more than occupied our talents, Lady."

Loena leapt to her feet. "Wild?" She snarled. "Who could help be wild when left without the powers that once swore to protect you? Wildness is all that protects us, Denethor's son!"

"If Gondor had the ring, Rohan would benefit," Boromir snapped back, tetchily. "We could turn our attention to you, then. Fulfil our oath."

"Fulfil your oath by allowing us the ring," Loena insisted. She turned now to the council. "Taking the ring to Gondor only serves to near it to the Great Eye. If we take it to Rohan, we separate it further from the shadows of Mordor, and can command it to rid the world of his most vile accomplice, Saruman."

"Saruman is not the threat we speak of here today," Boromir snapped.

"We speak of both," Loena countered, pushing her hair from her face and staring into the face of the great Lord of Gondor, refusing to drop her chin.

"QUIET!" A great call came from the edge of the circle, and Loena and Boromir were shocked into compliance. There Gandalf stood, looking at both with undisguised disappointment. "The weakness and the squabbling of men was the domain of your ancestors. The friendship of free Men is essential to victory against Sauron, of that there is no doubt. There is no fight now, between Gondor and Rohan."

Loena refused to dip her head, and she saw that Boromir's pride had kept him rigid as well. Neither opened their mouths again, though, and both, eventually, came back to their chairs.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf continued. "None here can use it."

"The Ring must be destroyed," Elrond agreed.

"Well, what are we waiting for?!" Gimli, Glóin's son, attacked the ring with his axe and a great battle cry. The Ring seemed to shriek when struck, but it was the axe that lay all about, destroyed. The Ring stayed as faultless as ever.

Elrond spoke out. "No weapon of man, Elf or Dwarf can destroy the One Ring, Gimli, son of Glóin. It must be cast back into the chasms where it was made, for only there can it be unmade." Elrond looked out level out at the council. "One of you must do this."

"Mordor?" Boromir spoke again, aghast. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep. Not with ten thousand men could you do this."

The blond elf who'd leapt to Aragorn's defence scowled and stood once more, ire tuned on Boromir. "Have you heard nothing that Lord Elrond has said? The ring must be destroyed!"

Gloin's son, Gimli, took the offence for himself. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!"

Boromir was not one to take such an affront without comment. "And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"A gift for Rohan!" The voice of the Ring in Loena's mind began to reach a screeching crescendo. It was all she could hear, and see. It blinded her, bit at her, called to her. The One Ring wanted her to wield it, it wanted to return to Rohan with her, it wanted to help her discover her family's honour. Loena leapt to her feet, Gandalf's chiding forgotten. "A gift to the foes of Orthanc! Of Mordor!"

"For Gondor!" Boromir insisted, mouth twisted, glaring at her.

Gimli had his scowl settled on the young elven prince. "I will be dead before I see the ring in the hands of an Elf!"

The elves around Legolas drew themselves up in outrage, and Gloin's party stood to match them. Loena and Boromir reprised much of their earlier argument, nearly nose to nose in their anger.

"...will take it!" A slight voice said, cutting through the rabble. All turned, and Loena saw Frodo Baggins standing, determined, hands twisted in apprehension in the fabric of his pants. "I will take the Ring to Mordor."

All were silent. All gazed at the Hobbit, such a small thing, with wonder. Loena doubted his legs were long enough to spur a pony. She felt her heart turn.

"Though," he added, looking to Gandalf. "I do not know the way."

Gandalf placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder, and swore his assistance on Frodo's journey.

Next came Aragorn, noble, but with soft eyes.

"If by life or death I can protect you," he said, kneeling. "I will. You have my sword."

The blonde Elven princeling stepped forward. "And you have my bow."

Loena wondered his reasoning, wondered what had prompted him to now resist returning to his Homeland and commit himself to the fate of the ring. She realised that Mordor's spread would not start and end with the pillaging of Gondor.

She'd known it always, but now she felt it sharply. Even if Saruman were to be defeated, the glorious ever-Sun of the Riddermark would be confined to darkness.

And that might have been her honourable rationale, and it might have tipped her to step forward. But it was not why she wanted to go. The Ring called for her again, and she envisioned herself standing before Edoras, before a Free Nation of Men, all loyal and adoring of her.

"And my ax," the same dwarf that had challenged Legolas stepped forward.

Loena realised that this was a moment of Keen diversity. So far a Hobbit, then a Dunedàn, then an elf of the Mirkwood realm, and now a dwarf. A unification of the free worlds.

As if realising the same thing, Boromir made his way slowly to the little Hobbit. "You carry the fate of us all, little one," he said softly. He turned back, finding the eyes of Elrond. "If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Loena stepped forward. She felt the great host turns its eyes to her.

"Rohan also," she said firmly. Like all others she came before Frodo. She held her hand over her heart, and then pressed it to his shoulder. "This is a burden, and a glory, that must be endured by all races of free men. By the strength of my line, my house, my kin and my own bones, I will protect your passage."

There was a huff, and the bustle of breaking twigs, and Sam burst out onto the council. "Mr Frodo is not goin' anywhere without me!"

Pippin and Merry also declared their intention to join, emerging from their hiding spot with the same determined look on their small faces.

"Ten companions," Elrond said, watching them all with a reverent gaze. "Not since the days of Elendil has there been such a united company of free folk. So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"