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Chapter 2
Deep in Imladris, home of the Elf-lord Elrond Halfelven, a wizard sat and brooded in the Hall of Fire to the star-clad voices of many elves. 'Silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath!' The words drifted around him like mist and yet he paid no attention. All his thoughts were thinking of the Ancients and the invocation wrought. Why had not the Guardian come yet? He was supposed to come when the Words of the Old Tongue were said. They had been said long ago, at the first uprising of Sauron the Deceiver. Why had not the Guardian come then? Perhaps the time had not been right. Perhaps he should try again at the Council- "Gandalf?" came the quiet query, interrupting the steady stream of thought. "Yes, Frodo? Sam told me you were in abed. Can you not sleep? There is much to come. You should be resting. Tomorrow will be a trying day," said the wizard kindly, smiling at the small hobbit. Poor Frodo had been through so much, and still must yet do so much. Those with the gifts of Sight had told him so. "Of course you're right, Gandalf, but it is about tomorrow that I seek you. Why is my presence required at the Council? Have I not done enough?" "You have done more than enough, Frodo Baggins, and your path is set before you. Only you can walk on it, and yet it may be changed, for good or evil I cannot see." "I understand. What were you thinking of? Are you not allowed sleep in the hallowed halls? So beautiful...." Gandalf smiled sadly. "They are very beautiful. Yet their beauty fades as the Elves go into the West." "I mourn for them," said Frodo while settling down next to his old friend. "As do I, yes. What I was pondering was the whereabouts of the Guardian."
"The Guardian? The Guardian of what?" Gandalf laughed lightly. "The guardian of Middle-earth. He is supposed to appear when a Maiar says the Invocation in the Ancient Tongue, but that has been tried long ago and failed. I was thinking that perhaps we should try again at tomorrow's Council. However, invocations are a tricky business. One wrong word, one mistake - an entire spell gone wrong." "But you can do it, can't you, Gandalf? Can't you succeed where others have failed?" Full of faith in the old man, Frodo's blue eyes sparkled as he smiled. "Only time will tell, Frodo. Now run off to bed. I must read many texts and speak to our host if I am to attempt this. I will see you tomorrow. I, of course, will be up with the sun." Gandalf harrumphed and took a deep drag on his pipe. Frodo sighed. "Goodnight, Gandalf." "Goodnight, Frodo. Until the morrow." Gandalf sat back and continued to think of when and how to do the Invocation. At the start of the Council, he decided. Rising stiffly, he hobbled off to find Elrond and tell him of this plan, desperate though it might be. 'May the Valar help me in this task,' he thought, and turned toward the waterfall. Elrond's quarters were close by the top....
Chapter 2
Deep in Imladris, home of the Elf-lord Elrond Halfelven, a wizard sat and brooded in the Hall of Fire to the star-clad voices of many elves. 'Silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath!' The words drifted around him like mist and yet he paid no attention. All his thoughts were thinking of the Ancients and the invocation wrought. Why had not the Guardian come yet? He was supposed to come when the Words of the Old Tongue were said. They had been said long ago, at the first uprising of Sauron the Deceiver. Why had not the Guardian come then? Perhaps the time had not been right. Perhaps he should try again at the Council- "Gandalf?" came the quiet query, interrupting the steady stream of thought. "Yes, Frodo? Sam told me you were in abed. Can you not sleep? There is much to come. You should be resting. Tomorrow will be a trying day," said the wizard kindly, smiling at the small hobbit. Poor Frodo had been through so much, and still must yet do so much. Those with the gifts of Sight had told him so. "Of course you're right, Gandalf, but it is about tomorrow that I seek you. Why is my presence required at the Council? Have I not done enough?" "You have done more than enough, Frodo Baggins, and your path is set before you. Only you can walk on it, and yet it may be changed, for good or evil I cannot see." "I understand. What were you thinking of? Are you not allowed sleep in the hallowed halls? So beautiful...." Gandalf smiled sadly. "They are very beautiful. Yet their beauty fades as the Elves go into the West." "I mourn for them," said Frodo while settling down next to his old friend. "As do I, yes. What I was pondering was the whereabouts of the Guardian."
"The Guardian? The Guardian of what?" Gandalf laughed lightly. "The guardian of Middle-earth. He is supposed to appear when a Maiar says the Invocation in the Ancient Tongue, but that has been tried long ago and failed. I was thinking that perhaps we should try again at tomorrow's Council. However, invocations are a tricky business. One wrong word, one mistake - an entire spell gone wrong." "But you can do it, can't you, Gandalf? Can't you succeed where others have failed?" Full of faith in the old man, Frodo's blue eyes sparkled as he smiled. "Only time will tell, Frodo. Now run off to bed. I must read many texts and speak to our host if I am to attempt this. I will see you tomorrow. I, of course, will be up with the sun." Gandalf harrumphed and took a deep drag on his pipe. Frodo sighed. "Goodnight, Gandalf." "Goodnight, Frodo. Until the morrow." Gandalf sat back and continued to think of when and how to do the Invocation. At the start of the Council, he decided. Rising stiffly, he hobbled off to find Elrond and tell him of this plan, desperate though it might be. 'May the Valar help me in this task,' he thought, and turned toward the waterfall. Elrond's quarters were close by the top....