Chapter Ten
Estela was sitting behind three tall shrubs at the alleged spot where the council was to be held, clearly aware of the fact that, if caught, there would be a great many angry Elves to encounter. Her eyes were wide in excitement and her breathing was rapid and deep. The danger of her situation was exhilarating, and at the moment she was wondering how anybody could hate the feeling of sneaking around and possibly getting caught.
A few Men, Elves, and short people with beards filed out of the House and sat down in a few stone chair-like objects that were arranged in a circle around a pedestal. The largest chair that looked somewhat like a throne was directly in front of her, its back facing her, so she wasn't able to see who was sitting in it.
Estela watched while a blonde-haired Elf clad in green and brown made his way to his seat. His face, stern with a trace of worry, was turned toward a man, tall, proud, and stern with a fair face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, that sat down a few seats away from the him.
The man, though his garments were rich they were stained, was wearing boots and a fur-lined cloak. He had a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set, his locks were shorn about his shoulders. On a baldric he wore a great horn tipped with silver that now was laid upon his knees.
Turning her head, Estela noticed another tall figure, clad in a familiar weather-stained cloak and traveling outfit, and realized that it was Aragorn. It was all she could do not to cry out in surprise, instead biting the inside of her mouth. A smile spread across her face and she waited patiently for something to happen.
Once everyone present had been seated there rang once a single clear bell.
Soon a few more Men and Elves came out onto the porch, followed by a tall elderly man that had a tall pointed hat on his head, big bushy eyebrows over wise grey eyes peering out from underneath it. After the tall man there came two smaller, child-like men, one of whom she didn't recognize, the other had his head turned away from her. Only when he had near her did she realize that it was Frodo, alive and well just as she had seen him back at Weathertop. He sat down near the throne-like chair, his back facing her.
Joy filled her heart, though she was still painfully aware that she had run in blind panic and fear and left them to save her own life, though almost getting herself killed in the process.
Suddenly a voice, commanding, clear, and melodious, came from the chair and spoke: "Here, my friends," it said, and she realized that it had to of been the Lord Elrond, "is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent." He stopped and she soon realized that he was pointing at a few of the people partaking in the meeting.
Estela moved over as much as she could and craned her neck as much as she dared, but all she saw was a hand pointing toward a person with a beard sitting next to another bearded-man that she now realized was a Dwarf, a small person that Halendir talked about sometimes with a hint of disdain in his voice. "That is Gimli son of Glóin," said the voice. The hand moved to a few other Elves name Erestor and Galdor then to the blonde-haired Elf. "That is Legolas Greenleaf, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood." The hand moved toward the man with the horn. "Here is Boromir, a man from the South. He arrived in the grey morning, and seeks for council. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered."
Much was debated and discussed at the council and only then did Estela realize that this was no ordinary meeting.
She was laying on her back, bored out of her mind because the thrill of getting discovered had disappeared, only half-listening to what was said, and fingering the maroon tunic that Falenwé had lent her (after she had firmly refused the pale yellow dress that they offered first) along with a brown pair of legging and silver-coloured boots. She had left her hair, which now had grown down to the small of her back, loose, and it was now laying comfortably under her head, forming a small pillow.
"Now, therefore," said Elrond, brining her back to the council, "things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden from all but a few until this day. And first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from the beginning even to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others shall end it."
Then all was quiet and Elrond started speaking of the Dark Lord Sauron and his Ring.
The tale seemed strangely familiar to Estela, and frustration built up inside her as she tried to remember why. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
'Dark Lord. Dark Lord. Darth Vader...? A Dark Lord named Sauron? Where did he get a name like that? Though, all the other people here have bizarre names, too. None of the Elves can be a Mathew, no, they have to be a Flangerdingerbob or Marlowinaerta! WHO THE HECK IS SAURON?!'
Without warning, she was cast out of Middle-Earth and into herself.
A little figure, herself she realized, was walking down the only lit path.
In the deep recesses of her mind, there lay a dark corner of memory, locked and never opened before. A key to a past she never knew, never wanted to know, was going to be revealed to her. Not all, only a part. Then, over time, she would know. Who she was.
She was there...walking the dark halls of memory. Pain was there, but also joy, happiness...and hope. She wasn't alone. Four dark figures walked; two in back, urging her forward, and two on either side, helping her. A deep feeling of love surrounded her and she wondered where these strangers had come from.
They stopped soon. In front of a large door with two long, large chains hanging across it, each going diagonally, overlapping each other, and four great locks on the front, Estela and the four people stood. Estela stared in amazement while the Four stepped back, disappearing into the shadows behind them. "Open it..." they whispered.
"I can't," she replied simply. Her voice sounded a little different. Older. Wiser. "It's locked. And I have no key with me."
"The star...the key."
Estela saw herself look down at the four-pointed star that hung on her neck then slowly undo the clasp and walk to the door. Holding the smallest of the four locks, she inserted the star into the keyhole and twisted. The lock fell off with a loud clang, rumbling the halls.
"Open it."
She tugged on the handle using both hands and it opened a small crack, allowing a bright white light to seep through.
Immediately, the room halls vanished and a small fire with three men sitting around it on logs appeared. The three people were Elves by the looks of it.
"Oh, look," said one disgusted, "more lembas. I tell you, they are wonderful to eat for the first three weeks, but after that..."
"Are you complaining, Lenaro?" teased another voice, its owner out of Estela's sight.
"Of course not!"
"Liar," one of the others muttered under his breath. They laughed and the scene switched to another place.
There was an Elf standing under a large tree, holding the hands of some else that Estela could not see.
"I won't allow you to come with me into battle," said the Elf firmly. "You would die."
"...he is like a father to me, Silen," replied the unseen person. "I must go... ...to ensure his safety."
The scene changed again.
Wise grey eyes filled with pain flashed before her vision. They fell, and Estela was able to see more. They belonged to an Elf, dressed in armor, that she did not recognize and had but a moment to see what he looked like.
The Elf's knees buckled, making him fall. Before he hit the ground, though, another Elf clad in the same armor wrapped his arms around the other's bleeding stomach and held him up.
"Come..." said the assisting Elf, "we must get you away from here."
The wounded Elf made no objection, staring amazed at his companion.
The visions disappeared, as did the halls of her mind, leaving her once again behind the bushes, eavesdropping.
Her energy seemed sapped, and the sudden waves of exhaustion surprised her.
Throwing the visions to the back of her mind, she sat up, trying her best to ignore the sudden weakness of her body, and peered through the bushes again, wondering if the council was over.
The thorns in the bushes created a small problem, but she silently pushed them away. The upper half of her body was now in the bushes, the thorns digging into her arms, hands, and clothing.
All was silent. The noon-bell rang, but still no one spoke.
From what she had gathered, the Ring, if wielded by the Dark Lord, was powerful enough to destroy all of Middle-Earth. It was doom to them all and casting it into Mount Doom in Mordor was the only way to gain freedom.
The Ring could corrupt its bearer, using the being for its own evil purposes.
Perhaps they were debating who would take it?
"I will take the Ring," said Frodo suddenly, "though I do not know the way."
Fear gripped Estela. She would not allow her friend to walk into death, if even he was allowed by the council. She would go, she decided firmly. No one, not even the Lord Elrond, would stop her. She abandoned Frodo once before...she was not going to do it again.
"If I have understood alright all that I have heard," said Elrond, "I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?
"But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will that your choice is right; and though all the might elf-friends of old, Hador, and Húrin, and Túrin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them."
Estela decided that it was about time to go, seeing as the council was coming to an end. She freed her scratched and bloody limbs and started working on getting her tunic loose from them.
"But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" cried Sam who had jumped up from the spot she had seen him sitting quietly in earlier, startling the council members. Frodo gave him and amused smile and rolled his eyes.
"No indeed!" said Elrond. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."
Sam blushed and sat back down on the ground. "Nice pickle we have landed our---"
RIIIIIIIIIIIP!
Estela, who had thought her clothes were all loose, had quickly tried to scurry away while Sam had been loudly distracting the council members, only to find that plants did not like her. One thorn that she had missed had gone deep into her tunic, tearing it when she tried to get away. The taught branch on the evil shrub chose that time, when she had a tiny chance of not being discovered, to break, sending a loud snap ringing across the porch.
"What is that?" asked many voices. All heads turned toward the bushes, including Elrond who leaned over the side of his chair and stared, most likely wondering if had any more hobbits hiding around.
Though this was a terrible time, Estela seemed to notice that he had dark hair, and wise grey eyes much like the ones in her mind. He seemed neither young nor old, though Estela guessed he was somewhere in his three thousands.
"Who is there?" he asked.
"Crud."
I really dislike ff.net right now. You guys *would* have had this chapter Friday but noooooo. Oh, look! Tee hee! I Cliff-hanger! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Elrond was in this chapter...oh, EXCUSE me! His CHAIR was in this chapter! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *cough* Excuse me... So...ya like? All you have to do is review... Until next time, Lúthien Arnatuilë.
Estela was sitting behind three tall shrubs at the alleged spot where the council was to be held, clearly aware of the fact that, if caught, there would be a great many angry Elves to encounter. Her eyes were wide in excitement and her breathing was rapid and deep. The danger of her situation was exhilarating, and at the moment she was wondering how anybody could hate the feeling of sneaking around and possibly getting caught.
A few Men, Elves, and short people with beards filed out of the House and sat down in a few stone chair-like objects that were arranged in a circle around a pedestal. The largest chair that looked somewhat like a throne was directly in front of her, its back facing her, so she wasn't able to see who was sitting in it.
Estela watched while a blonde-haired Elf clad in green and brown made his way to his seat. His face, stern with a trace of worry, was turned toward a man, tall, proud, and stern with a fair face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, that sat down a few seats away from the him.
The man, though his garments were rich they were stained, was wearing boots and a fur-lined cloak. He had a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set, his locks were shorn about his shoulders. On a baldric he wore a great horn tipped with silver that now was laid upon his knees.
Turning her head, Estela noticed another tall figure, clad in a familiar weather-stained cloak and traveling outfit, and realized that it was Aragorn. It was all she could do not to cry out in surprise, instead biting the inside of her mouth. A smile spread across her face and she waited patiently for something to happen.
Once everyone present had been seated there rang once a single clear bell.
Soon a few more Men and Elves came out onto the porch, followed by a tall elderly man that had a tall pointed hat on his head, big bushy eyebrows over wise grey eyes peering out from underneath it. After the tall man there came two smaller, child-like men, one of whom she didn't recognize, the other had his head turned away from her. Only when he had near her did she realize that it was Frodo, alive and well just as she had seen him back at Weathertop. He sat down near the throne-like chair, his back facing her.
Joy filled her heart, though she was still painfully aware that she had run in blind panic and fear and left them to save her own life, though almost getting herself killed in the process.
Suddenly a voice, commanding, clear, and melodious, came from the chair and spoke: "Here, my friends," it said, and she realized that it had to of been the Lord Elrond, "is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent." He stopped and she soon realized that he was pointing at a few of the people partaking in the meeting.
Estela moved over as much as she could and craned her neck as much as she dared, but all she saw was a hand pointing toward a person with a beard sitting next to another bearded-man that she now realized was a Dwarf, a small person that Halendir talked about sometimes with a hint of disdain in his voice. "That is Gimli son of Glóin," said the voice. The hand moved to a few other Elves name Erestor and Galdor then to the blonde-haired Elf. "That is Legolas Greenleaf, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood." The hand moved toward the man with the horn. "Here is Boromir, a man from the South. He arrived in the grey morning, and seeks for council. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered."
Much was debated and discussed at the council and only then did Estela realize that this was no ordinary meeting.
She was laying on her back, bored out of her mind because the thrill of getting discovered had disappeared, only half-listening to what was said, and fingering the maroon tunic that Falenwé had lent her (after she had firmly refused the pale yellow dress that they offered first) along with a brown pair of legging and silver-coloured boots. She had left her hair, which now had grown down to the small of her back, loose, and it was now laying comfortably under her head, forming a small pillow.
"Now, therefore," said Elrond, brining her back to the council, "things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden from all but a few until this day. And first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from the beginning even to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others shall end it."
Then all was quiet and Elrond started speaking of the Dark Lord Sauron and his Ring.
The tale seemed strangely familiar to Estela, and frustration built up inside her as she tried to remember why. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
'Dark Lord. Dark Lord. Darth Vader...? A Dark Lord named Sauron? Where did he get a name like that? Though, all the other people here have bizarre names, too. None of the Elves can be a Mathew, no, they have to be a Flangerdingerbob or Marlowinaerta! WHO THE HECK IS SAURON?!'
Without warning, she was cast out of Middle-Earth and into herself.
A little figure, herself she realized, was walking down the only lit path.
In the deep recesses of her mind, there lay a dark corner of memory, locked and never opened before. A key to a past she never knew, never wanted to know, was going to be revealed to her. Not all, only a part. Then, over time, she would know. Who she was.
She was there...walking the dark halls of memory. Pain was there, but also joy, happiness...and hope. She wasn't alone. Four dark figures walked; two in back, urging her forward, and two on either side, helping her. A deep feeling of love surrounded her and she wondered where these strangers had come from.
They stopped soon. In front of a large door with two long, large chains hanging across it, each going diagonally, overlapping each other, and four great locks on the front, Estela and the four people stood. Estela stared in amazement while the Four stepped back, disappearing into the shadows behind them. "Open it..." they whispered.
"I can't," she replied simply. Her voice sounded a little different. Older. Wiser. "It's locked. And I have no key with me."
"The star...the key."
Estela saw herself look down at the four-pointed star that hung on her neck then slowly undo the clasp and walk to the door. Holding the smallest of the four locks, she inserted the star into the keyhole and twisted. The lock fell off with a loud clang, rumbling the halls.
"Open it."
She tugged on the handle using both hands and it opened a small crack, allowing a bright white light to seep through.
Immediately, the room halls vanished and a small fire with three men sitting around it on logs appeared. The three people were Elves by the looks of it.
"Oh, look," said one disgusted, "more lembas. I tell you, they are wonderful to eat for the first three weeks, but after that..."
"Are you complaining, Lenaro?" teased another voice, its owner out of Estela's sight.
"Of course not!"
"Liar," one of the others muttered under his breath. They laughed and the scene switched to another place.
There was an Elf standing under a large tree, holding the hands of some else that Estela could not see.
"I won't allow you to come with me into battle," said the Elf firmly. "You would die."
"...he is like a father to me, Silen," replied the unseen person. "I must go... ...to ensure his safety."
The scene changed again.
Wise grey eyes filled with pain flashed before her vision. They fell, and Estela was able to see more. They belonged to an Elf, dressed in armor, that she did not recognize and had but a moment to see what he looked like.
The Elf's knees buckled, making him fall. Before he hit the ground, though, another Elf clad in the same armor wrapped his arms around the other's bleeding stomach and held him up.
"Come..." said the assisting Elf, "we must get you away from here."
The wounded Elf made no objection, staring amazed at his companion.
The visions disappeared, as did the halls of her mind, leaving her once again behind the bushes, eavesdropping.
Her energy seemed sapped, and the sudden waves of exhaustion surprised her.
Throwing the visions to the back of her mind, she sat up, trying her best to ignore the sudden weakness of her body, and peered through the bushes again, wondering if the council was over.
The thorns in the bushes created a small problem, but she silently pushed them away. The upper half of her body was now in the bushes, the thorns digging into her arms, hands, and clothing.
All was silent. The noon-bell rang, but still no one spoke.
From what she had gathered, the Ring, if wielded by the Dark Lord, was powerful enough to destroy all of Middle-Earth. It was doom to them all and casting it into Mount Doom in Mordor was the only way to gain freedom.
The Ring could corrupt its bearer, using the being for its own evil purposes.
Perhaps they were debating who would take it?
"I will take the Ring," said Frodo suddenly, "though I do not know the way."
Fear gripped Estela. She would not allow her friend to walk into death, if even he was allowed by the council. She would go, she decided firmly. No one, not even the Lord Elrond, would stop her. She abandoned Frodo once before...she was not going to do it again.
"If I have understood alright all that I have heard," said Elrond, "I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?
"But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will that your choice is right; and though all the might elf-friends of old, Hador, and Húrin, and Túrin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them."
Estela decided that it was about time to go, seeing as the council was coming to an end. She freed her scratched and bloody limbs and started working on getting her tunic loose from them.
"But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" cried Sam who had jumped up from the spot she had seen him sitting quietly in earlier, startling the council members. Frodo gave him and amused smile and rolled his eyes.
"No indeed!" said Elrond. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."
Sam blushed and sat back down on the ground. "Nice pickle we have landed our---"
RIIIIIIIIIIIP!
Estela, who had thought her clothes were all loose, had quickly tried to scurry away while Sam had been loudly distracting the council members, only to find that plants did not like her. One thorn that she had missed had gone deep into her tunic, tearing it when she tried to get away. The taught branch on the evil shrub chose that time, when she had a tiny chance of not being discovered, to break, sending a loud snap ringing across the porch.
"What is that?" asked many voices. All heads turned toward the bushes, including Elrond who leaned over the side of his chair and stared, most likely wondering if had any more hobbits hiding around.
Though this was a terrible time, Estela seemed to notice that he had dark hair, and wise grey eyes much like the ones in her mind. He seemed neither young nor old, though Estela guessed he was somewhere in his three thousands.
"Who is there?" he asked.
"Crud."
I really dislike ff.net right now. You guys *would* have had this chapter Friday but noooooo. Oh, look! Tee hee! I Cliff-hanger! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Elrond was in this chapter...oh, EXCUSE me! His CHAIR was in this chapter! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *cough* Excuse me... So...ya like? All you have to do is review... Until next time, Lúthien Arnatuilë.