For those of you who read the books, you undoubtedly know some of the things that occurred in this two-month period, in between Elrond's Council and the fellowship's departure south. We know that Aragorn went off, along with many scouts, to search for the whereabouts of the Black Riders, and other agents of the Enemy. But as for the other characters, I have used my rather unusual (and rather dangerous) imagination to sort of guess what they were up to. This story will definitely be more than one chapter, so reviews, including constructive criticism, are greatly appreciated, so as to keep me going.
Also, if you find something that doesn't quite fit into the canon, I would be glad if you let me know.
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING concerning the Lord of the Rings trilogy: no characters, no places, no ring. *Sigh*
Chapter 1: Serious Misgivings
It is quite well known in Middle Earth that halflings—or hobbits, as they like to call themselves—are not inclined to be adventurous. On the contrary, they are quite habitual; usually preferring picnics to holidays, planting to hunting, and fireside stories to long, factual books. Nothing out of the ordinary, like two-stories houses. Nothing dangerous, like chasing away wolves. And DEFINITELY nothing adventurous, like crossing the Brandywine, or wandering the outside world. But there were five certain hobbits from the Shire, five certain hobbits who summoned their courage, freed their curiosity, and left the security of their homes to be involved in something bigger. . . something dangerous. Needless to say, these five certain hobbits were MOST out of the ordinary.
And on this late-October morning, these five hobbits found themselves rather far from the Shire. . . in the peaceful quiet of the lush valley of Rivendell. The red and yellow leaves of autumn danced in the playfully silent breeze. The morning sun reflected it's white light against the swift river Bruinen, the movements and falls of which created the only sounds to be heard. Well, at least to someone who was standing outdoors.
For gathered in one of the smaller rooms of the Last Homely House, four of these hobbits of varying age and height were sitting together in deep conversation. And since they did not bother to keep their (rather loud) voices down, they were easily overheard by Gandalf, their wizard friend, as he passed by the door.
The Istari stopped in his tracks, for he hadn't thought the hobbits would be awake so early: they had a habit of sleeping until right before breakfast (convenient, eh?). Curious as to what they could possibly be so animatedly talking about, he decided to do some harmless eavesdropping. It did not last very long, however, for he soon perceived that he was the subject of their conversation.
"I don't suppose that Gandalf might ask him for us. . do you think?"
Gandalf instantly recognized the voice of Merry, one of the younger hobbits. Slightly amused, the Maia decided it was time to alert them to his presence in the doorway. He also decided to do abruptly, for it was rather comical to start the hobbits. . . especially when it was this early in the morning.
"Ask who, and of them what, Meriadoc?"
Merry, having been caught by surprise (much like everyone else) began speaking far too quickly for Gandalf to really make out the unintelligible words, though he could detect guilt in Merry's voice, causing him to become rather suspicious. "Well, it's nothing, really, Gandalf, we just. . ."
"We just wanted you," Pippin continued with a reproachful look at his cousin, "To ask Master Elrond if we, and by we I mean Merry and I, could accompany Frodo on this trip of his, we being his cousins and all." Merry nodded fervently. Frodo and Sam just rolled their eyes at Pippins sudden articulateness, which was the result of a few dozen rehearsals.
This hadn't been what Gandalf had been expecting to hear, that much was obvious. The hobbits watched as the wizard's expression changed from surprise to—for some reason unfathomable to the others—anger, as though a highly sensitive subject had been broached (and indeed it had).
"Now, Peregrin...," he snapped, his blue eyes a tempest, "I refuse to counsel Lord Elrond to let you go along when I, myself, am unsure of whom else to consider for such an important mission. And furthermore, it is folly for you to even wish to go along, when you have no idea of the road you will be taking, or the dangers you will face."
Merry and Pippin looked rather startled and distraught by the wizard's harsh tone, and Gandalf was quick to notice. The wizard's face softened, and his anger faded away, leaving him looking more aged and weary than ever. And when he spoke, his voice was filled with dread and sadness, as though he knew something that the others did not. "Let the matter go for now, young hobbits. Yes, for now. But perhaps you will have a chance to leave with Frodo, for fate works in strange ways," he said softly.
And with that said, he left the room, lost in his own troubled thoughts.
"I think that went well. . ." Pippin said a just a tad too brightly.
The others groaned.
* * *
The hobbits were not the only ones with a rather formidable subject on their minds. Gathered in a much quieter room in the House of Elrond were the Elf-lord's three sons. Elladan and Elrohir were discussing some rather unfortunate information with their young foster brother, who appeared greatly distressed by the news. And so he was.
"What do you mean, 'multiplied'? After all our efforts, and what with the endless help from my northern kindred, the orc population should have dwindled, not increased!"
"Estel, we speak the truth, as unlikely and unwanted as it may be. Our worst fears have indeed been confirmed. They are massing together, all evil things. . . building an army, of sorts."
The young man sighed and turned away from his brothers to gaze out of the open window behind him. He looked out at the land that had been his home for so many years. . . fair Imladris. He grew greatly distressed at the mere thought of any evil penetrating the beautiful sanctuary. He would give his life to protect it. And such a thing was most feasible, if he did what Elrond suggested, and joined the Ring-bearer on his quest.
The light curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, one of them caressing his cheek in a comforting manner that reminded him painfully of Arwen. Arwen, the one reason why he was so hesitant to heed his foster father's advice. He remembered, it was only two days earlier, though it seemed like an eternity, their walk in the Rivendell Gardens. *Oh, Arwen, would that I could remain here in Imladris, and leave the burden of the ring to Frodo alone. Would that this war was ended!*
He was startled out of his thoughts by the somber, knowing voice of Elrohir.
"Aragorn- life is not always as we planned. You of all people should know that. But the shadow deepens, and the time has come where you must leave your doubts- and your hopes- behind you."
Aragorn looked back at his foster brothers, and there was a deep anguish in his light gray eyes.
The Dunadan sighed. "If only it were that easy, brother. If only."
* * *
"And be sure to suggest Moria, Gimli, for I would know how our cousin Balin fares."
Balin. The name echoed in the listening dwarf's mind, and unsurfaced hundreds of fears and doubts concerning his distant cousin. It had been years since Gimli's kin in Moria had sent any word or message to anyone, and it had troubled all of the dwarves greatly. They dared not enter the Mines, for fear of what they would find, and so they instead sought the advice of the last person they normally would turn to. . . Elrond. With a sigh Gimli responded:
"Aye, it will be done. But don't you think your advice is premature? Lord Elrond may not ask me to accompany the ring-bearer, and I have no mind to volunteer myself."
His father, Gloin, gave him a sharp look. They had been talking about the quest for some time in their chambers, and all of the dwarves present (save Gimli) seemed certain that Elrond would approach the son of Gloin and ask him to represent dwarves in the journey to the land of shadow, where they would begin a hopeless attempt to destroy the One Ring.
Gimli stopped his trail of thought, for he suddenly realized that his father was speaking to him yet again.
". . . and besides, you are the only dwarf young enough and fit enough to go on such a long and precarious mission. Who else might Elrond choose? For he has made it clear to us that at least one dwarf will accompany the ring-bearer."
Gimli sighed. He knew his father to be right. And he was perfectly willing to go, under one condition. . . "There aren't going to be any elves on this mission, will there?" And at the word 'elves' there was open disgust and contempt in his voice, a result of being raised by the race of dwarves.
His father blinked. "I never thought of that. I don't think that there will be, for I have heard naught of such a thing. But do not be hindered if there is an elf, for he will be of little consequence, and will probably depart from the mission as soon as it becomes too toilsome for his frail body. But let us talk no more of the matter, for I suspect it is nearly time to eat." And together, they went down to breakfast.
* * *
That evening the sky was clear; no clouds would prevent the bright moon and many stars from being seen by all once the sun went down. There were many bright lights beginning to appear in some of the windows and porches as the sunlight faded, and laughter and singing could be faintly heard from the Fire Room. But on this night, the Lord of Imladris was not taking part in the merry-making.
Lord Elrond sat in his study, well aware that he was missing dinner. But he didn't feel like eating, for he was planning something of the utmost importance. Something that could very well determine the outcome of Frodo's quest, because it was a way to limit the evil that the young hobbit would encounter. And he had to make a decision before sundown, or it might be too late.
He needed to send out scouts. . . yes, some of his best. And they would travel Middle Earth for the next month or so, searching for signs of agents of the Enemy. But the mountains and all the eastern lands were becoming highly dangerous. He could not risk endangering too many of his warriors, so only a select number would be sent out. But where would they look? And what exactly would they look for? These questions blocked his mind from any answers. And he was losing time.
The Black Riders had all been washed away at the Ford less than a week ago. They were not dead; Elrond was wise enough to know it took more than a flood to kill the Nazgul. But had any of the horses survived? If even one survived, then it would be only a matter of days before Sauron was informed of the Ring's whereabouts. And in such a case, they might as well forget about taking the Ring to Mount Doom. Their one advantage was the element of surprise. And if they didn't have at least that. . . all would be lost.
Elrond rubbed his forehead. The Ringwraiths would be hard to find. . . who knew what form they now had taken. But all the same they would have to try. He would probably send Aragorn and a companion to search in Mirkwood, and Dol Guldur. Aragorn would doubtless take Legolas with him, for the elf hailed from Mirkwood and thus would know the forest well. And besides, the two had long been friends, having met shortly after Aragorn came of age, and they trusted each other with their lives.
He would send other scouts to search for clues along the banks of the Bruinen, for the Black Riders had been swept down that river, out of sight. And the next day, he would speak to Mithrandir about finding some way to discover what became of their horses, for surely their bodies would still be on the river bottom. But finding them would be difficult. It was far too cold for any elves to swim in the chilly waters of the Bruinen for too long a time, and besides, the river was extremely deep in some parts.
Other warriors would be sent down to far Ithilien, to see if they could find any signs of foul play among the nearly deserted villages. For that would be a clear signal that Sauron had spies that would hinder Frodo's passage south.
"I am almost forgetting Isengard. But it would be folly to send scouts to spy on Saruman. He would expect us to do such a thing. We will simply leave him alone for now, until an opportunity arises. He can make the first move," Elrond thought bitterly. He had been enraged, and deeply distressed, when he had learned of Saruman's treachery. He had scolded himself for not expecting something sooner.
The Elf-lord sighed. The sun was low in the sky. He needed to speak with his scouts, so that they could be well on their way. "I wish I had never lived to see such trying times. Why must the elves be bound so to Middle-earth?"
* * *
Meanwhile. . .
Legolas wandered aimlessly along the paths of Rivendell. He had so much to think about, and he wished to get it done before he returned home the next morning. Much as he desired to stay in the fair valley of Imladris, he had only come to deliver a message. And as he had already delivered it at Elrond's council (to the alarm of many), he had a duty to return to his home. But he could not assuage the feeling of guilt that racked his mind.
He had been one of the guards who were watching Gollum on that fateful day, when the huge army of orcs had attacked his homeland. The six guards had been taken by surprise, and Legolas had been the only one to survive. One of his good friends had been among them, and he was deeply pained by the loss. Regardless of this, he had fought bravely, but they had been many and fierce. So Legolas had ran ahead of them, to warn his father's realm of the coming disaster. And as a result, Gollum had escaped. But he also had to reveal to his fellow wood-elves of the deaths that had occurred. And that was yet another reason for why the young prince was filled with guilt; it had been his idea in the first place that Gollum be kept in Mirkwood. And now his friend, along with four other warriors, had paid dearly for it.
"Well," he thought dismally, "If I had stayed, they would have killed me like my companions. And if they had killed me, Gollum would have escaped anyway, so I suppose it was best that I escaped with my life."
The sound of approaching footsteps startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a man approaching; a man that he recognized from the council. He had not yet spoken to him, but the young man, who hailed from Gondor, had greatly interested him. Perhaps now they could get better acquainted, and Legolas could get rid of some of his curiosity.
* * *
Boromir was thinking along the same lines as Legolas as he approached where the elf was leaning against a tall oak. The elf hailed from Mirkwood, and it was a well-known fact that Wood-elves had very few dealings with men, or any races other than their own Elvish kindred. But the night before, at dinner, he had seen the elf have a long conversation with Aragorn, who was not only a man, but Isildur's heir himself.
He walked up to where the elf was standing, and Boromir was quite unnerved to be under the knowing gaze of the pale, ageless creature. He knew not of how elves greeted each other, whether they stated their lineage. . . no, that was only for introductions. . . perhaps they used their name and their land. Or, was it possible that the elf did not wish to be disturbed? That, he, Boromir, would be pleasing the elf by just walking past and leaving him to his own thoughts? That was doubtful. He had reached where the elf was standing, his thinking time was up. He said the first thing that came into his head.
"Greetings, Legolas of Mirkwood."
The Elf peered closely at him for a moment, and then quietly responded in the same proper fashion.
"Good Evening, Boromir of Minas Tirith."
An awkward silence followed. Well, at least it was awkward for Boromir, who had not seen an elf before he had come to Imladris, and was still rather afraid of them. Fortunately, Legolas, who sensed the man's discomfort, broke the silence.
"Tell me, Boromir, how the White City fares."
At hearing such words about his home, Boromir was both surprised and pleased. He didn't think the elf knew, or cared, about Gondor or Minas Tirith or anything concerning the world of men. He fervently told the elf all about how the city had fared in recent years, and about his mishaps with the armies of Mordor during the frequent orc attacks. And he was very happy indeed when he saw that the elf seemed truly interested. His earlier fears had been needless.
Then they spoke of other things, including how odd but pleasant the hobbits were, how beautiful the valley was, and also about some of the things that were said in the council. They talked for a good hour, and Boromir's doubts concerning the Elvish race began to fade. At least enough for him to ask the elf a question that he had been most curious about.
"You seem well-acquainted with Lord Elrond's foster son," he said slowly. "How long have you known him for?"
Legolas was only mildly surprised by such a question. Most of his kindred couldn't even understand how he could have bonded with someone of the race of Man. Still, Legolas hadn't expected Boromir to have noticed his close friendship with Aragorn.
"I have known him for many long years, now. I met him out in the wilderness, when he was only in his twenties. We were both in need of companionship, and overtime we learned to trust each other. And by the time our journey ended, we were almost inseparable. Much to the dismay of my kindred, of course," Legolas added with a wry smile. He glanced up at the quickly darkening sky. "Well, Boromir, the sun has nearly set, and I must awaken tomorrow at dawn, for I am to return to my home in Mirkwood. I take my leave, for now- but I think that our paths might cross again. Farewell!"
And with that he was off down the trail.
* * *
Legolas had not even reached his chambers when Aragorn intercepted him. His voice was filled with anxiety, and it was obvious to the elf that he has something to ask. . . or to reveal.
"Legolas! There you are! A word, if you will?" And without waiting for a response from his Elven friend he pulled Legolas into an empty room, and closed the door.
Legolas frowned. "What is it? Has something come up?"
"Well, yes- and no," Aragorn looked up at his friend, and decided to be frank, better than to keep the elf in his suspense. He knew very well that Legolas was not very patient, as Aragorn had once learned the hard way. "Elrond has asked me to search the enormity of Mirkwood for some signs of the Nazgul. None of them are accounted for as of yet, ever since the incident at the Ford."
Legolas knew immediately what this was about. "And you want me to go with you?"
"I thought you would have been eager to go. . ."
The elf laughed. "I am, Aragorn, only you need not have asked, for I am departing tomorrow for Mirkwood anyway. I live there, you know. . ."
The man grinned. "Right. . . Well, I suggest you go and prepare. But first, one more thing. . ." The man sighed. "I'm going."
Legolas gave him a questioning look, and the Ranger clarified.
"To Mordor. With the halfling. It is my duty- being Isildur's only living heir. I must finish what my forefather began so long ago." Aragorn was silent for a moment, as though contemplating what next to say. "I am bound to his fate," he ended bitterly, looking away. Legolas knew how much Aragorn hated his bloodline. It was for such a reason that the man always used an alias, regardless of where he was. Legolas also knew not to approach him on the matter, for because of his shame the Dunadan would refuse to hear it.
Legolas nodded sadly, then turned to go to his own chambers without another word.
* * *
The hobbits did not go to bed so early.
Instead, they spent a few hours of the night talking and laughing and singing with the elves in the Hall of Fire. Along with a good many others, three of the elves they spent much of their time talking to were the twin sons of Elrond, as well as the Lady Arwen.
The twins were very good company, for they had traveled far and wide, and told the hobbits much of their adventures in the south, and of their travels with the Rangers of the North. And what's more, both had a good sense of humor, and were interested to hear in turn all about the hobbits' meeting with Tom Bombadil, and all about their stealing from Farmer Maggot (a surprisingly large fraction of this tale concerned only Merry and Pippin). But most of all, they asked the hobbits dozens of questions about the shire, especially the controversial fact of whether or not hobbits lived in holes.
"It's true! It's true!" Merry exclaimed, delighted.
"We've always preferred living in holes," Frodo cheerfully.
"Ai," Sam continued. "It's better than living high in trees, or deep within caves."
"Or on cliff-ledges," Pippin muttered, with a sideways glance out the window nearest him.
Arwen, on the other hand, was much more placid than her older brothers. While she smiled warmly at the hobbits, and spoke politely to them, she seemed more wise and serious than her brethren. Perhaps, they thought, this was simply because she was so quiet and patient. But the real reason, which was unknown to the hobbits, was because she was troubled. . . for she was well aware of the departures that would soon take place, and the ranger that would be departing with them.
* * *
Very early the next morning, as the sun was just rising above the majestic walls of the fair valley, Legolas and Aragorn prepared their horses for the weeklong ride to Mirkwood. They arranged their things in silence, Aragorn busy adjusting his saddle and Legolas, who rode bareback, packing the last few essentials into his riding pack. There were very few elves there to see them off, most of them friends of the other scouts who were leaving. Arwen was not among them, much to Aragorn's disappointment.
Legolas smirked at his mortal friend, knowing very well what Aragorn was thinking. "Don't mope so, Aragorn, and look! She watches!" And he pointed up at one of the large windows that overlooked the gates.
Sure enough, when Aragorn looked up, the object of his affection was smiling down at him. Aragorn smiled briefly at her, then he and Legolas mounted their horses and rode away from Rivendell.
* * *
To be continued. . . (dun dun dun!)
Chapter Two will be posted soon. . . (soon being a relative term, right? *gulps*)
Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! Please, tell me how you like it (or don't like it), I want to know!