Sorry for the delay! SORRY! So sorry! I really am! But I have been so busy with work and school-and my stupidity for writing two stories at the same time-that I had to postpone writing this chapter until the winter holidays. And also until after I saw The Two Towers at least twice.
I tried to make up for the delayed update with a nice, long chapter, which I hope you will like. The next installment is almost complete, I have been working on both at the same time (mainly because much of the content of this chapter I decided to hold off until the next one.) Anyway, Chapter 3 will be up VERY soon, I promise!
*(Looks guiltily at gemstone) I appreciate that last review, it really woke me up to how long I had put off with this chapter. I will NEVER abandon this story, I have been planning it for far too long! Sorry for the wait, but I am planning to finish Chapter 3 tomorrow on my day off.
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Chapter 2: So Far From Home
The afternoon sun was beginning its daily retreat to the horizon. Its sinking rays reflected off the Rivendell River and helped to warm the inner depths of the dale. The valley had grown cold as of late, with the frosty chill of the approaching winter, and such rare extremes of sunlight were greatly appreciated by the mortal guests of Imladris.
Sam was not enjoying the mild autumn weather. He found himself in Frodo's bedroom, fussing over his lethargic master. It was a good hour after noon, and the hobbits hadn't eaten anything since lunch, which was definitely a bad sign when considering their usual eating habits. Though, they hadn't really eaten very much of their usual diet since Strider had brought them to Rivendell from Bree.
"You look hungry, Mister Frodo. Maybe you should eat somethin'."
"I'm fine, Sam. I'm just tired."
"Well, you aught to be tired. You were up mighty late last night, with them elves in the Fire Room. You should be resting, you've a long trip ahead of you."
"Sam, I'm not leaving for a month at the least. The scouts have barely even been gone a few hours." He was thinking of Aragorn-(was he really a king?!?)-and of all the new people he had met at the Council of Elrond. He didn't know why, but he was deeply alarmed by all of the information that had been disclosed. Of course, he had a right to be alarmed…but he felt odd about the escape of Gollum, and about the treachery of Saruman, as though he had expected it the whole time without really knowing. Bringing himself back to the present, he realized that Sam was speaking again.
"It wouldn't hurt to save your strength. You'll be needing it, you know."
"Yes, I know that, Sam. But so do you, and you seemed to have a good time last night. Don't you want to be spending your time in merriment, while we still can?"
Sam sighed with resignation. "I suppose so."
He finished unpacking. The midday sun was beginning to sink again from its mid-winter peak.
Sam sat down next to his master. He could see the chain that held the ring, now hidden beneath the folds of Frodo's tunic.
"Why are you doing this, Mr. Frodo? Why are you takin' it?"
"Because I have to, Sam. For all of us."
"But why not let Master Glorfindel take it? I bet he could handle it. Or Strider, even."
"I don't know Sam. I don't know why any of this has happened. Not even Gandalf could answer that question. But it's too late to turn back now."
Sam said nothing.
"I'm sorry Sam."
Sam looked up, surprised.
Frodo continued sadly. "I wish we were still in the Shire, and that we didn't know anything about a Dark lord, or a Ring of Power, or Mordor, or anything like that. I wish everything was as it was."
"Don't be sorry, Mister Frodo. It ain't your doing. Like you just said, not even Gandalf can explain it. I just don't understand it, is all."
"I don't understand it either Sam. But I have to take the ring. It's for the best."
"Then I'm coming with you."
Frodo grinned. "I know, Sam. You told us at the council, remember?"
"I know," Sam said defensively, blushing slightly. "But this time I mean it even more. I think I'm starting to grasp the concept of this whole 'Ring' thing, if you get my meaning. At the council I was still a bit confused about it all, and, well, I still am. But I don't think I'd like to be anywhere but here with you, Frodo. And I can't leave you now that we've come this far."
Frodo smiled. "I'm glad you're coming with me, Sam. But," he frowned, and great distress borne of fear and pain marred his features, "please don't think wicked of me for saying so."
"Why would I ever do that, Mister Frodo?"
"Because, Sam. You don't know where this road will lead you. Neither does Gandalf, and neither do I. But I know that by the end, the world will have changed a great deal, for the better…or for the worse. In either case, it'll frighten you once we get there. I wish you would go back to the Shire, but in my heart I am glad I have your company, despite all you'll face."
Sam looked back at Frodo skeptically. "Go back to the Shire? Then what'll I tell them Shire-folk? They'll ask me about you, and what shall I say? 'Oh, Mr. Frodo's gone off on some terrible quest to destroy a Ring of Power, and he's going to try an' kill the Dark Lord before he puts an end to us.' No, I don't think I should tell them that, Frodo. It'd scare them, if they even believed me. But I don't think I could lie, either. So, I guess I'm stuck here with you, Mr. Frodo, whether I like it or not."
Frodo said nothing. Sam sighed.
"And I'll never think wicked of you, Mr. Frodo. Even if you didn't make it to Mordor, and Sauron got his ring back, and all was lost."-here Frodo paled slightly, and Sam hastily moved on-"I would just remember how brave you were, stepping up to all of them elf-lords and volunteering to take the Ring to the fires of Mount Doom."
Frodo sighed. His eyes were dark and sad. "What has happened to that young, happy hobbit," Sam wondered. "Will he ever come back?"
Frodo finally spoke. "I don't very much feel like talking about those things, Sam, but thanks. I don't think I would get far without you."
Sam looked down at the hands he was twisting nervously on his lap.
"I still remember your exact words, Frodo, when you decided to be the Ring-bearer. 'I will take it.' I never heard finer words. A real hero you'll be, Mister Frodo- I can see it. You'll come back to the Shire, all victorious, and you'll move back into Bag-end, and you'll never have to worry about nothin' again."
Frodo's eyes turned even more serious. "Do you really think it possible, Sam? Do you really think that I, a hobbit who grew up ignorant of the existence of evil, could actually bring about its demise?"
Sam looked up, startled.
"O' course I do. 'Us hobbits should never be underestimated', the Gaffer used to say. And he was right, even though he was drunk on ale at the time. I think you can do it, Mr. Frodo. And so does Lord Elrond. Remember what he said? 'I think this task was appointed to you', or something like that. Don't that cheer you up? You can do this, Mister Frodo. But promise me you'll let me come with you through thick and thin, no matter what."
Frodo laughed softly at the odd request, but his eyes were sad. "I can't make you follow me all the way to Mordor, Sam. Only you could do that, if you had a mind to. And I wouldn't want you to do anything you'd regret. Because then I wouldn't be able to forgive myself, or you, for that matter."
"Oh, it's too late to be worried about that, Mister Frodo. I definitely regret ever letting you leave the Shire. Besides, I already made a promise to Gandalf that I wouldn't leave you. My case is hopeless now."
Frodo laughed again, only this laugh was brighter, merrier, and full of hope. "And to think, Samwise Gamgee, that only two days ago you were packing your bags to go back home."
"Now, come on, Mister Frodo. You didn't have to bring that up. I'm homesick enough as it is."
"So am I, Sam. But at least we have each other for company, and Merry and Pippin, too."
Sam nodded. "And Strider as well."
"So, Sam, are you finally starting to trust him?"
"I think so Mister Frodo," Sam replied, smiling softly.
"Me too, Sam. I suppose he's not as foul as we thought. And he's got his friendship with Gandalf going for him."
Sam grinned. He loved seeing his master in such good moods. It couldn't be certain how much longer they could share such moments together.
* * *
Merry and Pippin sat in a large room with Gandalf, Boromir, and the dwarves who had come from Erebor. They had been asked to attend a meeting with Lord Elrond, who had yet to arrive.
"What's this all about, Gandalf?" Merry asked nervously.
The wizard leaned over slightly so the hobbit could hear him. "Lord Elrond has another thing to ask of us," the maia said softly, "and you were just telling me how you wanted to be 'more involved'. So here you are, at your own little council."
"What is it now?" Pippin asked nervously. "Last time people were summoned here, Frodo got stuck with going to Mordor."
Gandalf smiled, but said nothing. Elrond had entered the room.
The hobbits had seen little of the Elven lord. At the dinners that had gone to with Frodo, they were always seated at a side table, while Frodo was seated
Looking around the room at the gathered company, he spoke. "I have summoned you hither on no ill news, I simply have a favor to ask, but one of great importance."
No one spoke. The Elf-lord continued.
"The incident at the Ford, as you all know, did not kill the Nazgul. They have fled, whether on horse or in shapeless form."
Again, no one spoke.
"I wish to find out their means of escape. We must find out if their horses were killed, and also if any survived. We must know how quickly they will return to Barad-dur. It will affect the route that the Ring-bearer shall take."
"How exactly are we supposed to do that?" one of the dwarves grunted.
"An excellent question, Master Gloìn. I would like volunteers to construct a dam that will temporarily stop the river, allowing you to search it for signs of the ringwraiths."
"I shall help build it," Boromir said swiftly. While Elrond spoke, an odd look had come over the man's face, as though he was filled with doubt. But his voice was stern, showing no sign of hesitation.
The hobbits had been quite curious about Boromir. Their own knowledge of men was quite limited, having been truly acquainted only with Butterbur and Strider, but this man of Minas Tirith seemed strangely different. He was fair of face, though his eyes were dark and sad. He appeared younger than Aragorn, but the hobbits expected that he had seen the winters of a great many years. What's more, his dignified stature and bearing betrayed his nobility. On the whole, Merry and Pippin generally liked him.
The dwarves soon volunteered as well. "We will join you, man of the South, for we are used to such labors," one said. Pippin had met this dwarf at dinner two nights since. The young hobbit had been interested in meeting him, as he was the son of Gloìn, who was in the great company of Thorin Oakenshield. Gimli he was called, and his great red beard ended in a thick braid.
The dwarf saw him and grinned, and his group turned and quit the room.
The wizard smiled.
"Good. That being settled, I suggest you two go down and eat lunch. You didn't have time for it earlier," he said, looking at the two hobbits.
Merry nodded fervently. But Pippin said nothing, still looking flustered.
Elrond walked to the door, and then turned. "Goodbye, Master Periannath. I will see you at dinner."
The door closed. Gandalf turned to the halflings. "Please, by Iluvatar, do not ask Master Elrond if you can join the quest tonight at dinner. I know you mean well, but that would not be the way to gain his favor."
Pippin looked surprised, but Merry frowned. "Gandalf, how come Sam gets to go, just because he got caught eavesdropping? We've done plenty of that."
"Yes," Pippin added. "And he was working for us, anyway."
Gandalf sighed. "I suppose that if we left you behind you would feel wronged and ashamed. But I would rather you be safe in Rivendell and angry, than if you came and were content for a brief time before the darkness settled itself in."
"We know that we don't stand a chance out there," Merry said quietly. "But Frodo's our friend, just like Sam is, and we don't want to be left behind when we could be of use to either of them."
"And if you're with us, what could possibly go wrong?"
"Much indeed could go wrong, Peregrin! There are many powerful forces in this world, and some are greater than I am. And most I have no control over."
"Wait," Merry said suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I thought you hadn't decided that you were going."
Gandalf blinked, and then the realization settled in his keen, bright eyes. He sighed.
"Through all my long years, I have kept many great secrets, and have still disclosed them to no one. But somehow, the two of you always manage to pry little bits of important information out of me."
Pippin grinned. "It takes a Took to do it."
"And a Brandybuck as well, Pip!"
The wizard smiled. "I suppose I could talk to Elrond, if you promise not to tell pester me with all your meddlesome questions."
A bell chimed. A meal was being served. The hobbits quit the room with a fervent "Thanks" and a few mischievous grins in each other's directions.
Gandalf sighed. They really didn't understand what a dark road they were trying so hard to reach.
* * *
That night, Boromir once again found himself wandering the paths through the many gardens of Rivendell. A few yards behind him walked a troop of dwarves, all muttering to themselves. Listening to their gruff voices, Boromir could discern only a few phrases, such as "tainted land" and "disfigured trees".
The dwarves were another strange race that he didn't understand. He knew that the elves were far too intimidating for his comfort, but the dwarves…they were perplexing to Boromir. They had shown open hatred for the elves they had encountered, which Boromir didn't understand. And they even eyed the Men with suspicion. But they also seemed a bit xenophobic, as though they would be pleased if they never saw anyone save their own kin.
He didn't know why, but he had been immensely relieved when Elrond had approached them on the subject of building a dam. He had come to Imladris to find the answers to his bizarre dreams, and he had done so. But he did not wish to leave Rivendell at this time. There was something about the place that brought him peace, even when he was thinking about the war that raged in his homeland. He also had an odd feeling that his work was not finished in this Elvish paradise.
Yes, it truly was a paradise of sorts. He had always believed his father's realm to be a mighty land, the stone structures being magnificent to view. But this place was extraordinary. The valley walls were lined with beautiful buildings of many colors and sizes. The starlight reflected in the growing mist of the waterfalls. The soft sound of the rushing river and the song of birds in the mighty trees brought happiness to the hearts of all. Everything in the vale-the earth, the air, the water-seemed to have a voice all of its own.
Waking from his reverie, he realized that the talking behind him had ceased. Turning, he saw the youngest of the dwarves peering out into the gloom of night that filled the dark canon. Having gained more confidence from his talk with the Mirkwood elf the night before, he did not need to gather his courage before approaching the dwarf.
"We meet again, Gimli son of Gloìn. Good night to you."
"Good night to you as well, son of Denethor. And a lovely night it is."
"Do you really think so? I hadn't believed you to find Rivendell very appealing."
The dwarf didn't answer that. "What think you of the hobbits? You've never seen the likes of them, I would wager."
Boromir smiled. "I think they're charming."
"Do you?" Gimli asked pleasantly. He was beginning to like the man's good humor.
"Very much so. I wish that the people of Gondor could be in such high spirits."
"And I the people of the Lonely Mountain! Long have we been ill at ease, with no word from our kindred in Moria. But I think that our lord Daìn is planning a party to go to the mines and see if they fare well, or if evil has befallen them." The dwarf shuddered.
"How long have you gone without word?"
"Many, many years it has been since they have sent their yearly report. They usually sent a messenger to us with news of their progress, and we are worried what detains them there, and prevents them from contacting us."
The dwarf looked up at the man. "You said you came hither due only to strange dreams, eh? Does that mean you will be leaving soon?"
Boromir shrugged. "I have not yet made immediate plans to leave Rivendell, but I hope to put off my departure for as long as I am able. What of yourself, Master Dwarf? Why has your party showed no sign of leaving?"
Gimli sighed. "They are insisting we wait to hear the outcome of this ring business."
The man smiled. I think I must retire, Master Gimli, for we Men cannot boast the persistence of dwarves.
The dwarf was pleased by the compliment. "I will walk with you. I must join my father in our chambers." They crossed the bridge together, and went separate ways up flights of steps to their own chambers.
* * *
"Mirkwood. Not a very encouraging name, is it."
The ranger gazed warily at the dark forest that loomed ahead of them.
"Actually, it's beginning to grow on me. I think I prefer that name to Greenwood."
"Do you?"
"Yes," Legolas replied. Seeing the odd look the ranger was giving him, he added, "At least it's better than Gondor. 'Land of Stone'. Even dwarves are more original, and they would be inclined to choose a name like that. Such as Moria. 'Black pit'. Or Khazad-dum. 'Dwarf-home'."
"Well, at least 'Gondor' has that nice elvish tone to it."
Legolas said nothing, but smiled softly to himself. They entered under the shadowy eaves of the forest.
The thick canopy of braches and leaves that roofed the path immediately blocked the sun. As they continued into the forest a few more yards, all went completely black. It took Aragorn a few moments to fully adjust his eyes to the darkness.
"Hmm. It's not as dark as usual today," Legolas said all-too-pleasantly.
Aragorn mock-glared at the elf. The man had never enjoyed his visits to Mirkwood, all of them being rather…disagreeable. Each time, the elves had been barely tolerant of their mortal guest, and the infamous spiders even less so. He didn't have any fond memories of when he had allowed Legolas to talk him into going "spider-hunting", as the elf had so lightly put it. Needless to say, chaos ensued, and Aragorn had returned to Rivendell with the marks of a few nasty bites. He wondered if this visit would be any better.
"Do you think your father will lend us aid?" the ranger asked tentatively.
"Yes," Legolas replied shortly.
"And what makes you so confident, young prince of Mirkwood?"
Legolas smiled faintly at the jibe. "You're in a fine mood today. Usually you just ride in silence, staring straight ahead or looking around suspiciously, and occasionally you dismount and 'listen to the earth'. You would think that through these troublesome times you would have become even more serious, but no. I'm stuck with the immature man who will one day become the king of 'Stone-land'.
Aragorn grinned. "I listen to the earth? You listen to trees just as often. But don't change the subject. You still haven't answered my question."
"My father? He'll want to get rid of you as soon as possible, and the only way to do that is if he sent us out investigating." The elf turned to look at the ranger. "That way, you won't have to stay in the palace, either."
"Well, that's always a good thing," the ranger muttered sarcastically. But the elf was right. The Wood-elves always made him uncomfortable. Most of them had not seen a man since the Last Alliance before Aragorn showed up, and so they had a tendency to…stare. And they didn't speak too civilly, either. Of course, he had originally gotten along rather well with them, but then they discovered his lineage, and things had gone downhill from there.
They rode on a while longer in silence.
"Legolas," Aragorn began finally.
"I don't think that any spiders would be this close to the borders, Aragorn."
"No, it's not that," the man snapped, glaring at the elf. "I think you should consider joining the ringbearer."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Aragorn smiled sadly. "You know I was being serious, Legolas. We could definitely use the bow and arrows of so fine an archer."
Legolas said nothing. Aragorn continued.
"You always speak openly to me of my scattered people, and of their lost dignity and pride. I admit that I never rose to the occasion when they were in need of aid, but that is why I am going now. I am stepping up to the opportunity of making a name for myself in the race of Men. I am known among the elves as the King of Gondor, but my own people have no faith in me, let alone themselves."
"What is your point, Aragorn?" It was more of a bland statement than a question.
The man scowled. "Mirkwood has been overrun with darkness for centuries. You speak to me of my duties as king, now what of your duties as prince? My people need help, that is true, but so do yours."
Legolas sighed. "I don't want to go, Aragorn. And even if I did, Lord Elrond would never ask me to…I am certain he would have Glorfindel go, or another of his Elf-lords. They have more knowledge in these matters than I, and Glorfindel fought in the Last Alliance. Who else could offer such valuable experience? I hadn't even been born yet when he was already a distinguished bearer of arms."
"Maybe it is more than experience that Elrond is looking for. My father has more faith in you than you realize. All of us do. You just need a little more confidence in your own abilities, and more trust in your own strengths."
Legolas said nothing. They rode on in silence, their happy mood ruined by the rising darkness.
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That's all for now. But like I said, the Chapter 3 will be up in a day or two, in compensation for my tardy update! The next chapter (which is turning out to be quite lengthy) will feature Arwen, and Thranduil enters the story, along with much more Gimli.
Please review! I want to know what you think of this story so far, so feel free to be brutally honest, as long as you're nice. As always, constructive criticism is welcome.
Namárië!