Part two
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The elf-Lord moved slightly further in room taking the moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes soon fell on the fire that he had been thinking in front of moments before Glorfindel had come to him offering to take a part in the quest to Mordor. The warmth from the flames could not be felt this far away, yet Elrond had the lingering sensation of the heat upon his skin. It was a calming feeling, even as a memory and did well to help organize the Lord of Imladris' thoughts.
With his eyes still on the fire, he spoke again, "The Ringbearer and those that journey with him will need hope. This is no easy task by any measure and will weigh heavy on those present. The Halflings offer friendship to Frodo and one another. They even bring a little innocence to the others that are accompanying the Ring." He felt himself smile at the thought of the hobbits never-ending questions being aimed to Gimli and Aragorn. "And yet," he continued, "their innocences are the very problem for as they journey further, bit by bit they will lose this precious gift. They will become, as is unavoidable, tarnished by the evils that pursue them. Frodo, most of all, will need strength and I am certain he will find it in his faithful friends and yet, where do these friends gain their strength from?"
The question was not to be answered by Glorfindel and so he remained silent. Content to watch Elrond speak his inner thoughts out loud.
"Gimli, Boromir, and Aragorn cannot offer this strength no matter how hard they try or how much they would long to. I have no doubt that all three would take high offense to this statement, thinking that I do not believe them able to offer this help to the halflings. This is far from the truth, Glorfindel, for I believe them more than able to bring about strength in the time of greatest need." Elrond stop speaking for a moment taking a few pacing steps.
He then began again. "Boromir is concerned for his city and people. He will think of the little ones second, I fear, and his own home first. He is not a selfish man, but neither is he a truly generous man. His goal for this journey is to see Gondor survive, not to worry about Frodo only the Ring. And then Gimli is too much of a dwarf to offer comfort. Do not think I shun the dwarves with this comment, for Glóin would find it fit to take his axe upon my knees if I did." He said with a amused chuckle, almost picturing the dwarf coming after him with his large metal axe. "I only speak thus because Dwarves are isolated folks and no little of the ways of others. Gimli will be experiencing new lands just as much as the hobbits.
"Finally, my son Aragorn will be battling his own demons along this journey. It is not because he lacks concern for Frodo, but all too soon, I fear, his ancestry will catch up with him leaving him all but consumed. Mithrandir is the one that will bring not only the hobbits, but the others some sense of comfort. He is wise beyond comprehension, but his loyalty is with Frodo. The others, as I have expressed, will need to draw hope from another source." He paused and seemed to sigh inwardly. "And yet, I have no idea where this can come from."
Glorfindel found, all the while he listened to Elrond speak, longing to ask why these three were chosen by the Lord of Imladris, and yet he held his tongue trusting implicitly to the elf-Lord's decision. These three, for Mithrandir was an obvious choice that Glorfindel understood, were chosen for their own reasons and the warrior knew those reasons were Elrond's alone. What puzzled the blond elf was this inner battle that his Lord appeared to be having over attempt to bring the company a member offering hope. He truly did not see why Elrond thought he had to find someone that would be placed among the Fellowship solely as someone to bring about this strength. Furthermore, Glorfindel did not have the faintest idea where such a being could be found, if anywhere. It was as if Elrond was looking for a symbolism inside of a person; a task that appeared to be wasted energy. There was something that Elrond was looking for, and yet, Glorfindel had not the faintest idea what this could be. And, it appeared as if the elf-Lord was just as confused as his friend.
Elrond suddenly turned to face his companion once again. "I am looking for something, my friend," he said almost echoing Glorfindel's inner thoughts. "I do not know what is it or where I can find it, but there is something that this Fellowship will need in the dark hours."
"What of the ninth member?" Glorfindel questioned.
In an almost unnoticed gesture, the elf-Lord shrugged. "I have not been able to come forth with a ninth member and was working on a solution ere you came to my door. It is an elf, of that I am certain, but I have no guess as to whom." He turned back to the fire, almost unconscious of the movement. "You have already offered yourself to take this journey, but I fear you are not the proper choice. I do not mean to insult you, my friend, for I find you very worthy of walking with Frodo, however," he trailed off with a sigh and Glorfindel longed to prompt the Lord of Imladris to speaking further. After a moment's silence, where the fire's popping was the only sound in the room, Elrond spoke. "As I have just been speaking of, these Walkers need a companion of hope. One who does not carry the burdens that the others seem to bare. You," he turned to Glorfindel with a ghost of a smile, "carry many burdens."
The warrior slightly bowed his head accepting the assessment that he knew it to be true. "I understand and do not question your judgment on my behalf. I only hope that you do well to find this mysterious elf that you are seeking for I do not know of who could serve this position." Glorfindel caught Elrond's gaze. "All of our kind carry burdens for they are something we were born with. The sorrow of the ages past is on all shoulders and weighs heavy. And, to add even more to our already weighted load, we are a fading peoples, watching the world we have grown to love change. We are all cursed with burdens that we are unable to prevent."
Elrond nodded is head. "Yet," he started, forming an argument while he spoke, "I believe some may be less burdened then others. Or rather, not less burdened but better able to carry the sorrows of our race better. I am searching for someone that has not allowed the grief of our time to alter them and mar their inner hope in our world."
Glorfindel said nothing but lowered his gaze in silent contemplation. The ages past, as he had said himself weighed heavy, but the burden of the present age was far more cumbersome. The Elves were leaving and their almost forced departure was changing the very shape of Middle-earth it seemed. They were woven into the fabric of the lands and while Men, for their most part, remained ignorant to the changes happening because of the loss of Elven light, Elves did not. Everywhere Glorfindel looked he could see some same change within the lands and, just like to others, this was a heartbreaking thing to watch. Although Elves had always been thought of as sorrowful beings, it was as of late that, that description seemed to hold true. Elves, both young and old, knew their time upon this ground was fleeting away before their very eyes and they were powerless to stop it.
This transformation from Elves ruling to Men had made many angry at those that dared to take over the lands they had been apart of since the dawning of the ages. How dare mortals, who had been in Middle-earth for only a speck of time, receive such a gift while the Elves, who had never left, were now being tossed aside. Others, who chose not to feel anger, only felt sadden. It appeared as if they were no longer a necessary force on Middle-earth. Even though the beauty of Valinor was spoken of in awe, many did not want to leave and, thus, the grief of having to, had filled them. Finding an elf that still possessed hope would be much like attempting to find, as Men said, a needle in the haystack.
Still, Glorfindel knew, he would offer no help to Elrond further this evening. The search for this ninth member was the duty of Imladris' Lord. And so, the blond elf gave a small bow before speaking.
"By your allowance, I will now part and leave you with your thoughts."
The Lord of Imladris waved a hand signally his consent. "I thank you for listening to my endless monologue and offering your own wisdom."
Glorfindel smiled. "I fear I did not offer any wisdom and as for listening, it is I who interrupted your thoughts and musings. It was the least I could do." The warrior turned and was at the door before he spoke again; his back remained to Elrond. "I wish you the best of luck in finding this nameless elf for I feel the task will be harder than you may think. You are looking for someone who not only has faith in Middle-earth, but also in Men." Glorfindel still did not turn, but Elrond noticed his shoulders seemed to fall slightly. "And few Elves possess such faith in mortals."
With that, the elf-warrior left Elrond alone with his thoughts once again. Now, however, the Lord of the Last Homely House was closer to despair and, frankly, thought of giving up the prospect that there was a someone out there was would satisfy his rather specific and odd qualifications to be the ninth Walker. The Lord of Imladris knew that he would not be able to settle now, though, because he had put too much thought in finding this mythical elf. His mind had already began to concoct this stranger and Elrond would not be able to settle with only second best.
Of course, he thought with not small amount of pessimism, what happened if, or when, he was able to find someone that suited him. Though it did little to add to his optimism of finding this last member of the Fellowship, Elrond knew he would most likely have to pick a random elf. With a sigh, he realized he had spent far too much time indoors this evening and his thoughts needed to be entertained outside where the night air would hopefully bring forth some answers. Elrond knew that the moon had risen high in the sky and was shining a soft glow upon the lands. The outdoors was exactly what he needed presently.
The Lord of Imladris found the choice to bask in the soft light of the moon a wise one, for the moment he stepped outside he was rewarded with the soft sounds of the night that already eased his troubled mind some. Crickets and frogs made their respective chirping and croaking noises while an owl hooted a greeting from a nearby tree before taking flight on silent wings. Elrond, after standing and taking in a deep breath of the cool night air, found an empty seat beside one of the many streams that flowed inside his home. Much like the fire he had spent a good amount of time in front of earlier, the stream offered a soothing sense of rhythm that Elrond found necessary anytime he placed his mind to a task.
As he sat, Elrond thought of how his home was so blessed with beauty that, even though he had spent more years here than any present man had been alive, the wonders here never lost their awe. This one of the reasons he had felt such horror at hearing the message that the One Ring had been found and was being hunted by Sauron. To think that his home would fall into darkness was incomprehensible. The Last Homely House was a place of too much light. Too much joy. It would not fall, even if Elrond had to march to Mount Doom and challenge the Dark Lord himself.
Of course he knew no such thing would ever take place even if he was ready for the challenge. The Lord of Imladris had to put his faith in Frodo and those with him. It was a hard thing to do, to allow another to bear the burden of something he so longed to see down by his own hand, but it was a necessity. He had to step back and, for once, allow someone else to take the fight. These Nine, or he thought with a grimace, eight, would hold the fate of Middle-earth in their hands and there was little that others could do to help. The fate of all the races were depending on one small hobbit and his companions. This thought unfortunately made Elrond sigh into the night.
Nine Walkers, he had decided upon all those hours ago, and yet there were still only eight accounted for. Somewhere during the start conversation with Glorfindel he had made the decision that Peregrin and Meriadoc would join the others. Though Elrond was still uncertain of this decision, fearing some unknown disaster he could not put a name to, those two hobbits would go. Perhaps, something great could come from their journeying with the Fellowship. And so, the Lord of Imladris brooded, one last member to find.
The earlier discussion with his friend had done little to help Elrond for he now felt as if he was grasping at straws trying to find this ninth member. Perhaps, Glorfindel was right. There was not one elf that had not been beaten down by their time upon Middle-earth that would offer what Elrond sought. It seemed only folly to think that he could find such a being. And, as he had also mused before, any elf was just like another. One would be good as the next, he reasoned. His own son, Elrohir and Elladan, would even do on this journey. Like Glorfindel, they would be willing to go and able. Then there were the countless other Elves that had come here. Any would do. All he had to do was pick one. He could even take back his previous negative response and allow Glorfindel to go.
And yet, the Lord of Imladris found he could do none of these things. It was maddening, but also a reality. Like the other eight Walkers, Elrond felt that he had to find this last member like the others were found. There was something about each of the other Walkers that made them stand out to him. Surely, there was an elf out there that would catch his attention in much the same way. With a near groan of frustration, Elrond brought his hands to his face and gently began to massage his temples. As he did so, a soft sound on the wind pricked his ears.
The Lord of Imladris at first tried to ignore the soft sound, but it began to grow louder and soon he found himself listening intently trying to decipher what he was hearing. Dropping his hands from his face, the elf-Lord turned his head in the direction of the melody and hearkened. It was an obviously Elvish song, speaking of the trees and stars in a decidedly haunting tone. The song spoke of the ages that had come and gone and how the lands had remained under the watchful gaze of the stars. The ballad continued to articulate how the stars were like small guardians, ever present and shining. As the song continued to tell, they were a thing of beauty that offered hope for the light of tomorrow. It was a touching song and one that Elrond found moving. It was being sung in soft Sindarin with a gentle voice that the Lord of Imladris knew he recognized. As the hymn continued, Elrond's memory became clearer and he finally placed who the voice belonged to: Legolas Greenleaf.