Updated 9-6-02

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. I appreciate the feedback. The software has eaten the second space between sentences, and I am not going to try to fix it (too much work), but beyond that, please let me know about any punctuation errors, etc. you see. I have tried to edit carefully, and I will go back and fix any errors. To address the Klingon/Orc issue: I know Worf doesn't really look like an Orc, but I think in the eyes of ME residents, he resembles an Orc more than anything else in their experience.

Ch. 3: Rivendell

They soon reached the city of Rivendell, after fording the River Bruinen. This city was populated by Elves, a race that, at first, looked much like Vulcans, but was very much distinct. They were tall and graceful. They accepted his presence, but with scarcely veiled distrust. Strider spoke quietly with a messenger in the same language he had used with Arwen. He turned and told the others that Frodo and Arwen had in fact reached Rivendell safely, and that Frodo was sleeping.
The Hobbits went with the messenger to see their friend. Strider and Worf were escorted to Elrond, the lord of Rivendell. With Elrond was an ancient Human whose clothing reminded Worf of the old Human custom of Halloween. Not even Garak could have designed something so outrageous. Elrond greeted Strider by the name Aragorn, and Aragorn addressed the old man as Gandalf. Elrond seemed unsurprised by Worf. Although he appeared young by Human or Vulcan standards, his eyes held a wisdom he had seen before only in Jadzia. It was as if he had experienced more than most beings would see in ten lifetimes. Worf got the impression that even ten lifetimes of humans would be a short span to this being.
As Worf explained as much as he could of the accident that had brought him to this place, he waited for skepticism from Elrond and Gandalf. To his surprise, they seemed to accept the story. After a few moments' pause, Gandalf spoke. "The Wise have some knowledge of such things, but I had never thought to see it myself. It has been many ages since the like has occurred. Well, welcome to Middle Earth. Forgive the cold reception, but as you have discovered, you most resemble an Orc, an evil creature that is feared by all the free peoples of Middle Earth. You will have to earn the trust of those you meet. The very fact that you speak civilly and intelligently to us is enough to convince me you are no Orc, and were it not, your story would be. You must have many questions. I will try to answer some of them, but most of them may wait for the Council, which is to be held in a few days, for we all have questions. I fear you have come into a dark time, indeed." With that, Gandalf explained a little of the history of Middle Earth, especially as it concerned the Nazgûl and Frodo's errand. Worf was amazed that they trusted him with such critical information, especially after the cold reception, but they seemed to trust him, anyway.
Worf spent several days getting acclimated to his surroundings—learning his way around, learning a little more of its history from the Elves, many of whom had lived the histories they told, and meeting the other races who had arrived for Elrond's council. They were skeptical of him at first, but generally came to a cautious peace. The food was good, if not really his style. He had eaten far worse. Years in Starfleet had acquainted him with more different culinary styles than he had ever wanted to experience.
While waiting, Worf also met many of the people in Rivendell. He learned a little more about Aragorn—the heir to an ancient throne, he had grown up in Rivendell, and still had made no claim to his ancestral title. To Worf, it seemed like a coward's path, but already experience had proven Aragorn was no coward. There was a contradiction in him that was not easily resolved, but also a royalty that lay veiled just beneath the surface. Were he ever to assume his ancestral throne, he would be one of the greatest leaders Worf had ever known. The little ones knew the Man as Strider, the Ranger. The Rangers were treated with contempt by the ignorant, but, like Aragorn, they were the last of a noble race, that of Númenor, seemingly human, yet living three times a normal human's lifespan. More subtle was the relationship between Aragorn and Arwen. Worf was puzzled by the interaction. Cross-species relationships were not common in his world, but they certainly were not unheard of. He was a prime example of that. It was when he heard the story of Luthien and Beren that he finally understood. Arwen would have to sacrifice her immortality to marry Aragorn, and for an immortal race, as for any long-lived race, an early death was one of the greatest tragedies imaginable.
Like Elrond, the other Elves held a timeless wisdom, but they were lonely. Many of their people had left (to where, Worf didn't quite understand, but it sounded like another continent, but passage between the two was difficult and one-way), and their race was fading out of this continent, slowly but surely. They reminded him a little of the wormhole aliens—outside of time. The years wore on them little, but the rest of the world changed swiftly around them. Many of their friends and companions were gone, and this, too, weighed heavily on them, giving them an air of melancholy. Despite all this, the Elves were a gracious, seemingly contented people. There was such complexity in their culture, enhanced by millenia of history remembered as if it were only a few years distant, that an outsider would probably never understand it. Things as they were, Worf learned what he could, and appreciated the Elven culture (and its people), even if he didn't fully understand it.