Legolas

He could feel their sorrow, their grief. He felt it as if it were his own. The grass was lush green and the stones stood out in the colour of stark grey.

He knew the history of Hollin. It was once called Eregion. Here the Noldor dwelled after the First Age. He remembered his father's stories from his childhood, remembered how his tutor painted the glorious pictures of the Noldor hammering and tinkering away in their forges with the desire to create things no one else could create. He remembered listening to the creation of the Rings of Power, how the Elves learned they were betrayed, how only the three Rings of Power for the Elves were saved. He heard the stones lament. They remembered the marching of the Enemy into Eregion. The Dwarves helped but it was in vain. The forges lost their fire, the buildings were torn down, and anything that could burn, burned.

He wondered if the stones knew of the making of the Rings, how the One Ring once more passed through their land, the reason for all their sorrow.

He became aware of someone standing beside him and he turned. Frodo stood staring at the landscape.

"This was Eregion, where the Rings of Power were made?" Frodo asked. Legolas knew it was Bilbo's teaching that credited this.

"Aye," Legolas said. "This was Eregion, where the Rings were made, except for the one that you carry."

"This was where it all began," Frodo said. "Strange, is it not, that the Ring should pass through here in our attempt to destroy it. I wonder if we will end the same way as the Elves and Dwarves here ended their fate, or we will have victory instead."

"I think only time will tell, Master Frodo." Legolas said thoughtfully. "Only time will tell."


Author's Note:

I am currently unable to reply to private messages and reviews due to shortage of time. But I am here and writing. :)