Requiem for a Dream
Written by Freefall Sunsoar

E-mail : freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com
Archive : Anywhere! Just let me know, okay?

Series : Lord of the Rings (movieverse)
Rating : R
Pairings : Various
Warnings : Slash, sexual situations, violence, strong language

Disclaimers : I do not own LOTR in any way, nor do I claim to. It is the property of JRR Tolkien. Last time I checked, that was not my name. Please don't sue me, you wouldn't get any money anyways. I'm dirt poor.

Notes : Nothing new. See Chapter 01 for some introductory ramblings.

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CHAPTER 04 - THE ONE RING
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"Can I offer you something Master Harolds? Wine? Something to eat?"

Connor Harolds sat himself in a comfortable chair opposite of the Elven Lord's seat, and next to the old man Gandalf. A round table of fine white stone, ornately carved with the hands of a skilled craftsman, separated them all. There were several rolled up parchments littering its surface, but it still seemed tidy.

"Yes, I believe I will take you up on that offer," he managed his best diplomatic smile to the Elf, "Wine will be fine, and if you have something simple around. I don't want to trouble you."

"It is no trouble Master Harolds."

Elrond retrieved a large crystal jug filled with a dark liquid and three large goblets. Setting the glasses in front of his guests and the jug in the centre of the table, he then went to the door of his chambers, where Glorfindel was keeping watch outside for any uninviteds. He whispered something briefly to him, and then returned his attention to the other two men.

"I have sent him to the kitchens to have us brought some fruit and cheeses," he sat himself in his chair, "Now then gentlemen, shall we get down to business?"

Gandalf reached for the pitcher of wine and poured himself a generous amount before addressing the Canadian. "Master Harolds, earlier you told us that you and your men ... and, uh, lady ... were tracking some Terrorists, was it? Yes, Terrorists across a desert and into a cave where you stumbled across the petrified remains of Weathertop. Could you perhaps elaborate on this? I know I speak for Elrond and myself when I say that I do not quite understand what a Terrorist is."

Connor took the pitcher himself and poured half a glass of the suspicious liquid. It was unlikely to be poison, considering that Gandalf was drinking it quite liberally, but he could never be too careful. The cautious always lived another day.

He refused to let himself completely trust these people or this country. It would have been a jeopardy to himself and to his command, or what survived of it anyways. He looked between Gandalf and Elrond, masking his distrust with a pleasant smile ; no need to let a potential enemy know that they did not have his friendship.

"A Terrorist is a person who commits acts of violence upon an innocent populace. In the United States, a country that neighbors my own, Terrorists from the Al Quieda network in Afghanistan hijacked aircrafts and crashed them into the two World Trade Centre buildings. Many were killed, many more injured, and families were devastated. There were Canadians among the casualties, as well as people from other nations around the world. It was an act of senseless destruction, lashing out at democracy in the western world."

The Elf and the old man bore mirror expressions of confusion.

"A terrible thing," Elrond said with a frown, "To have such hatred of others. But I am afraid that you still muddle us my friend. These lands you speak of : Canada, United States, Afghanistan ... they have no meaning for us. You come from a place that sounds alien Master Harolds."

How could he make them understand what he was saying?

An idea sudden came to him. Connor stood and reached for his pack. Buried at the bottom, past all of the ammo, spare weaponry, and underneath a change of civilian clothing, was a collection of rolled papers. He selected one carefully, and then unraveled it on the table.

"This is a map of the world as we know it," he explained to them, turning it so they could read it better, "Here," he began pointing out specific nations, "Is my country, Canada. This is the United States of America. And here," he moved his finger in a grand arc halfway across the world, "Is Afghanistan."

"This is a foreign landscape indeed," Gandalf said with muted amazement, "Such a vast expanse of land ... so many nations. I am afraid Middle Earth has no comparison to these countries."

"Indeed," Elrond reached for one of his scrolls, and unfurled a smaller map which he laid on top of the other, "This my friend is a complete Map of the world as we know it."

Connor knitted his brow as he studied the paper.

"This is Middle Earth, and here is Imladris, where we are now," he tapped his finger on a point on the map to illustrate his point, "And across the seas is the land of Valinor, the Gray Havens of my people. As we speak many of my kin are sailing on ships to these shores."

"Why? Do they not like it here?"

"No, it is nothing so frivolous my friend," Elrond was smiling again, "The Seas are calling them to Valinor, and when the call comes, it is impossible to resist. The time of the Elves in Middle Earth is drawing to a close. Soon we will have disappeared from these lands."

"I don't think I completely understand what you're saying, but I suppose it is not for me to comprehend the ways of your … people," he was reluctant to use the 'E' word until he was sure what was going on, "So, where does this leave us?"

Gandalf took another sip from his goblet before speaking. "I believe, Master Harolds, from the evidence we see here that you and your soldiers have come to us from some other world. A place that exists in a separate reality from our own."

The Lieutenant gave him a level stare. Surely a grown man could not believe in such things?

"Another World? Come now Gandalf, there must be a more sensible explanation. It is more than likely that I've simply hit my head and this is all just a dream," he chuckled mildly, "Other Worlds … those are subjects of books and movies. Fiction. Next you'll be suggesting that it was magic that brought us here, or some nonsense like that."

An amused expression crossed the old man's face. "You do not believe in magic, Master Harolds?"

"Magic is not real," the Canadian said, a hint of irritation in his voice, "Children's stories and faerie tales. For that matter, there are no such things as Elves and Hobbits either. People do not carry swords, they carry guns. None of this can be real. The more I think about it, the more that it seems I am probably dead or in a coma."

Gandalf and Elrond exchanged looks, which made Connor slightly wary.

"My dear Master Harolds," Gandalf began, "I do not doubt that where you come from such things as magics and sword play have long since been forgotten, but that doesn't mean they can't or don't exist somewhere else. The more I think about it, the more I believe you and your soldiers have inadvertently stumbled across some portal that connects our two existences. Perhaps there is more to Weathertop than I previously thought."

"Nonsense," Harolds spat, "Complete nonsense. If these were two separate worlds then why would the same tower appear in both of them?"

There was a thoughtful silence as the other two contemplated this.

"Tell us then, more about this foul wind and the flash of light," Elrond responded, folding his hands together on the table top, "Perhaps that will give us a new insight."

He sighed in frustration as he thought back to the cave. A frown marred his face when the fight with Private Mitchell came rushing back to him. In all the years he had been in the army he had never run across someone who disobeyed orders as much as Jack. Connor was torn between hating him for being such an insubordinate brat or merely disliking him for constantly voicing his opinions; more than not, he leaned towards hating him. They had never gotten along, and he feared this whole fiasco would only heighten the tension between them.

Unless of course he was dreaming, which was more than likely.

But that wasn't important at the moment. He thought about the old tower; how it looked in the darkness of the cave; the feeling of that sickly hot breeze in his face; the feeling of dread when he looked through those binoculars to see a violent twister of darkness expanding from the highest point.

"It was very strange," he recalled absently, "I was arguing with Private Mitchell, when suddenly Private Miyashi was very insistent that we leave immediately. I noticed that it had gotten very warm, as if we were back in the desert sun at noon, and I got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. When I looked to the top of the tower, I saw this mass of dark clouds."

"Dark clouds?"

"Yes. They were expanding outwards from the peak, and working their way down very quickly. I ordered everyone to run to the entrance, but before I could finish my sentence there was this flash of light. It was so bright I thought I would be blinded, but instead …"

He trailed off for a moment, his mind working to process the memory. Elrond and Gandalf waited patiently for him to continue.

"Instead, it was like I had been swept off of my feet, and I was falling."

"You say you were falling?" Gandalf questioned as if it were an interrogation, "What did you see when you were falling? What were you falling through?"

"Nothing," he replied in a neutral tone, "I wasn't falling through anything. It was like a void. I couldn't see or hear my troops, so I assumed I was alone."

"You saw nothing then?" Elrond sounded disappointed, "Well, that gives us very little to go -"

"No, wait," Connor interrupted as he suddenly remembered something else, "I did see something. I felt like I was falling for a very long time. Hours, maybe even days. But when I finally thought I would go mad from it all there was another light, and I saw … I saw a eye."

Now this seemed to really grab the questioner's attentions. Some colour left Elrond's face, and Gandalf looked as though he had received the news that some relative had been horribly killed.

"An eye?" Elrond asked with concern, "Are you certain?"

Connor did not see how this was particularly shocking news, so nodded and answered the question guardedly, "Yes, it was definitely an eye. It was lidless and made of fire, had almost a kind of reptilian look to it. I think there may have been a voice as well, but there were no discernable words, only a kind of guttural sound. When I fell towards it there was a second bright light, and then I found myself outside in the night air, falling towards the top of the tower..."

"Where the Wraiths had cornered the Hobbits," Gandalf completed the thought, "And where Frodo had the Ring."

The Ring? Connor squinted curiously at the old man, asking an unspoken question. The mention of the eye had vexed them, so clearly they had to know more than they were telling him about their strange arrival to these lands. He was tired of answering all of their questions and getting runaround in return; it was time they answered a few of his.

"I think it is about time that you explained a few things to me," he was just short of demanding, "When I mentioned seeing this eye you both looked like you going to have a heart attack. Tell me, what is this eye to you? What does it have to do with a ring?"

A very grave expression suddenly overtook Gandalf, and Connor had to work a little harder to maintain his bravado. "What you have seen Master Harolds is something that no one has seen in an Age. Something of unspeakable evil and malice. It was the Eye of Sauron."

"The Eye of Sauron?"

For nearly twenty minutes he listened to Gandalf and Elrond tell him a story about a Dark Lord who forged several Rings of Power and handed them out to leaders of various races. In secret he had forged another ring, the One Ring, that would control all the others.

"He covered all these lands in shadow and hatred," the old man explained, "Until an alliance of Men and Elves marched against him. There was a great battle, and many died against Sauron's hordes."

"What happened? Was this Sauron defeated?"

Elrond's expression turned sour. "We fought against him endlessly, until the Dark Lord himself appeared on the battle field and began to devastate our armies. It was when Isi-"

"Wait a minute Elrond," Harolds interrupted skeptically, "You speak as though you were there. If you are going to make up stories for my amusement, then you should at least -"

"I was there my friend, 3000 years ago. I do not make things up to entertain others."

"You couldn't have been there if this battle was fought so many years ago. It is impossible, unless you've constructed some sort of time machine."

"There is much you need to learn Master Harolds," Gandalf replied in a friendly tone, despite the look of mild frustration on his face, "The Elves are immortal creatures, gifted with everlasting life and beauty. There are some living as ancient as this world itself."

"Impossible," the Lieutenant scoffed, "Now you are telling me that you cannot be killed?"

"No, that is not what I am saying. An Elf can be killed as easily as a Man if he is not careful. But old age is not a factor in the lives of Elves; there is no such thing as a natural death for their kind."

Connor was suddenly on his feet, pushing away from his chair and the table until he was a good distance away from the other two. He was not going to listen to this bullshit anymore, it could not be true.

"You honestly expect me to believe all of this? Evil Dark Lords and immortality ..."

"I know this must be difficulty for you, but you must learn to accept these things Master Harolds if we are to help you find a way back to your world. Come, sit back down and we can -"

"I will not," he was nearly shouting now, "I can't sit at this table while you give me these stories! I want some real answers for a change, no more dancing around the bush. Tell me what I need to know to get home."

This time he would not let them feed him any more theories or history lessons. He looked sternly back and forth between Elrond and Gandalf, waiting for one of them to start talking again.

"Tell me about the Eye of Sauron," he demanded, "What does it have to do with me and my men ending up here?"

"Frodo carries with him something of grave importance," Gandalf was finished with the pleasantries, and he stood as well; Connor did not remember him being so tall and intimidating, "For the past sixty years it has been sleeping quietly in the Shire, waiting to hear the call of its master's voice. It is the One Ring of Power."

"Forged by Sauron himself in the fires of Mount Doom, it is an object of pure evil that wants nothing more than to return to the hand it was taken from," Elrond was the last to stand, and the earlier friendliness was gone from him as well, "3000 years ago Isildur, son of the King, took up the sword Narsil and cleaved the fingers from the Dark Lord's hand. Sauron's body was destroyed, but his spirit endured because of the Ring.

"I lead him into Mount Doom to cast the Ring back into the flames, to destroy this great evil once and forever. But the power of the Ring had already corrupted his heart, and Isildur kept it," a look of painful recollection passed over the Elven Lord's face for a moment, "The weakness of Men allowed the Ring to survive. Now it has been found again, and the Dark Lord has been revived. His armies begin to mass in the East, and he has already taken some control over Middle Earth."

Elrond glanced quickly at Gandalf, but the meaning behind the look was lost to Harolds.

"So what are you saying then? That this Ring is responsible for bringing us here?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf took a step towards him, "Frodo was wearing the Ring at the time you dropped in on them, so to speak. And you saw the Eye, which means He is at least aware of your presence here. This sickly feeling you described, it is not unlike the feeling one gets when they come into contact with the Ring of Power."

"Well if this Ring is responsible, then surely it can send us back," it seemed a logical conclusion to the soldier, "Bring it to me, and maybe I can -"

"No," Gandalf exclaimed immediately, "You must understand something about this Ring. It is made purely of hatred, of evil. You cannot use it, even for good intention. It corrupts all, no matter how pure of heart you are. No one can wield it save for the one who created it."

"And once you have heard it's call Master Harolds, it will haunt you until the end of your days. Isildur was killed by his love for the Ring, and so would you be too. I will not risk you using that Ring, even if there is no other way."

"And who are you to make such a decision? I will not stay in this dreadful place if there is a way for us to -"

"I am the Lord of this land Connor Harolds," the Elf was furious, "And you would do well to remember your place as a guest in my House. I make the decision because it is mine to make. The Ring is off limits."

"Then why tell me about it when you had no intention of ever letting me use it? Why are you playing these games with me?"

"We are not playing games Master Harolds," Gandalf replied, "We are trying to make you understand how dire these days are for us. A war is coming to this world, one that could end in everlasting darkness and death, even if you chose to believe in it or not. There will be decisions that you must make shortly. Choices that need choosing. It does not hurt to be prepared."

The Lieutenant gritted his teeth, using all of his will to restrain his anger. How dare they treat him this way? How dare they deny him a means of returning to reality when it was plain in front of their noses. He was hesitant to believe all these stories they were telling him, but this Ring they spoke of was intriguing. Perhaps Sauron's Ring was the key he needed to get him and the others back safely.

Just imagine what they would say about him at home, leading his surviving command bravely back from this savage, primitive world. He would be a hero.

He took a deep, calming breath. It would do him no good to enrage his 'hosts' and get thrown out into the forests. If he wanted to learn more about this Ring, specifically how he could get his hands on it, then he would have to earn their trust. And if earning said trust meant he was to believe all their faerie tale nonsense, then he would do so for the moment.

It was likely that he would need help in getting to the Ring, but he was not sure he could trust his soldiers to agree with his plan. Jack would be opposed, simply because it was his idea, and Trevat was a thorny one. They had had a few disagreements in the past. Perhaps Miyashi could be persuaded though. He seemed like a reasonable person.

All he needed was a plan.

/Smile Connor/ he forced himself to grin, /If there is really a way to get home, you can't lose it to your temper. Patience is a virtue./

"I ... would like to apologize, to both of you," he began in his sincerest voice, "People have told me that my anger often gets the better of me, and I guess it's done that tonight. You have to realize though, you are asking me to believe a lot, and some of this is very hard to accept."

That friendly, paternal smile returned to the old man's face, "There is no harm done, Master Harolds. I understand that your world must be a very different pace than our own, and what is simple everyday for us is merely fantasy for you. It is difficult to accept things one does not understand."

"Yes, er, it's just a lot of information for me to try and digest at once. I mean, immortal Elves and evil magical Rings? It would probably be like me trying to explain the concept of a computer to you," he could hear the question coming out of Gandalf's mouth before it was spoken, "Which I will explain to you another day my friend, when it is more appropriate," he turned to the Elf, "I hope I have not offended you Lord Elrond."

He seemed slower to accept the sudden change of demeanor, but Elrond took the apology nevertheless. "No offense Master Harolds, but perhaps a little irritation that I'm sure will be gone by morning. You do not understand our world, and I can accept that, but you must try to open yourself to new possibilities. I cannot make you believe in anything, but I can ask that you make an effort not to dismiss everything because it sounds inconceivable."

"I am a Military Man my Lord," he was definitely not agreeable to giving pointy eared men honourifics, but it was all necessary to make them trust him, "I have had rules and regulations and order drilled into me for years. I drill it into my troops as often as I can. It is hard for me to drop my entire way of thinking because two men tell me that a great evil may be responsible for whisking me off to a foreign land. But, I will give some thought to everything you have told me."

"That is good. I am glad you are at least willing to see things from our perspective."

"You spoke of choices Gandalf, and preparation," Harolds changed the subject ever so slightly, "Do I dare ask what you are referring to?"

"As I have said Master Harolds, a second darkness will soon come upon these lands. Sauron knows the Ring has come to Rivendell, and he will try to take it back, by any means necessary. You are a stranger to these lands, and as a stranger I cannot burden you with our troubles. But you have aided us in the past, and I fear we may be in need of your aid in the future."

"The Ring cannot stay here," Elrond stated flatly, "The power of the Elves cannot conceal this evil from the Eye. To decide the Fate of the Ring I have summoned a Council. Within days representatives of all the free races of Middle Earth will arrive, and we will discuss how best to deal with this situation. I ask you now Lieutenant Harolds, for you and your soldiers to join us at the Council."

Was this some sort of trick? Did Elrond not earlier say that he would not grant him access to the One Ring? What their motivations were, he could not say, but he agreed to it. It would certainly give him a closer look at this stupid piece of jewelry anyways.

"Very well my Lord, we will attend your Council. But it is getting late now, and I think I'd like some time alone to think about all of this."

"Of course lad," Gandalf replied amiably, "I've nearly forgotten you've been traveling just as long as your soldiers. Now would seem a good time to end this meeting."

"Indeed," Elrond agreed readily, "It has been a long day, and nothing more can be accomplished this night. If you are ready to retire for the evening, Glorfindel will show you to a room near your troops. Perhaps we can have some further discussion on these matters when you have had time to properly consider everything. Until then I will try and find a way for you and your men to return to your country."

"Thank you Lord Elrond, I'm very grateful for your hospitality," he smiled as he nodded to the two of them, "So if you will excuse me gentlemen, I believe I am going to have a hot bath and some sleep. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight."

He turned sharply on his heel and retreated from the room without looking back at them once. The game was on, and he would have to play by their rules for now, at least until he got some proper information. If there was even a remote chance that this Ring would be able to get him home, he would have to find out everything he could about it.

Perhaps he would ask Elrond if he had a library, or whatever passed for such in this place, where he could learn more about 'Middle Earth', Sauron, and the One Ring. It couldn't hurt to be informed.

"Glorfindel?" he posed the question to that skulky fellow he had seen earlier, who was now standing just outside of Elrond's personal chambers.

"Yes Master Harolds," he answered pleasantly enough, though he did not smile, "A room has been prepared for you, if you will follow me."

"Lead the way then," he gestured for the Elf to go, and Glorfindel took up a swift pace.

They walked together for some minutes in companionable silence. Thoughts of the conversation shifted and organized themselves in his long term memory as he followed the blond closely. He wanted to remember everything, even if it all sounded like a load of horse manure. It could be important later on, especially what was said about the Ring Frodo was carrying.

/Hmm, Frodo … no, it would be stupid try and get it from him. They'll all think I've gone mad or something. Besides, they probably took it from the Hobbit anyways. I wonder where they've stashed it? I would sure like a chance to study it …/

"This is it Master Harolds," Glorfindel said suddenly as he stopped at a large wooden door, "Some serving girls will be around to take your dirty clothes to be laundered, and someone will be here shortly with hot water if you desire a bath. "

"Thank you Glorfindel, that will be all" he said curtly, and the Elf nodded at him before disappearing down the hallway once more.

The peeved expression on his face made Harolds think that perhaps he shouldn't have treated him so much like a bell boy; judging by the Elf's attire, he probably was not accustomed to showing people to their rooms.

He closed the door behind him, and began methodically stripping of layers of dust stiffened clothing. A bath sounded very nice, and he thought it would be an excellent distraction from his current problems. Yes, he would have a nice bath, get his uniform cleaned, and go to sleep. From what Elrond had said, he probably had maybe four or five days until this council was to take place.

Plenty of time to learn what he could and think of a strategy.

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There were three quick raps at the door.

"Come in Glorfindel."

Elrond looked up from the map to see him open the door, enter the room and close it behind him in one fluid motion; he did not look happy. Elrond raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

"That Man oversteps himself," the blond said as he approached his Lord, "He speaks back to you and Gandalf as if it is his right, and he has the nerve to address me as some sort of servant."

Gandalf looked slightly amused, but said nothing, preferring to take a liberal sip from the wine goblet in his left hand.

"Yes, he has a temper and a tongue, but under the circumstances I will let his gross disrespect pass. And if he sees you as a servant, I am afraid that is probably my doing."

"You have me showing them about as if this is an inn," Glorfindel said distastefully, "I am not a baggage boy my Lord."

"Forgive me my friend, but I wanted to keep close watch on these strangers, and I trust no one else as I trust you. If it displeases you so much, I will have someone else to aid them. Perhaps Arwen would enjoy such a task."

"Arwen should be kept on a tighter leash," his expression soured considerably, "Have you yet reprimanded her for taking off with Asfaloth to seek Estel and his company? Foolishness, and certainly no job for a woman. The Evenstar at that. She could have been killed by The Nine."

"She is a stubborn one," a voice came from the shadows behind them, "And brave. Too much for her own good I'd wager."

The two Elves glanced in the direction of the voice to see Aragorn stepping into the light of the candles. Glorfindel looked rather surprised to see him; the Ranger exhaled a slow mouthful of smoke from the lit pipe in his hands, grinning ineffectually.

"How long have you been here Aragorn?"

"Elrond had requested I listen in on his meeting with Master Harolds," he commented casually as he sat next to Gandalf, "I have been here all along. Surely I had thought that a First Born would have known a mere Man was hiding about in the shadows."

"That is enough banter gentlemen," Elrond interrupted the two of them, "We must talk about this situation seriously. What are your thoughts on these strangers Estel? You have spent the last few days traveling with them. Do you believe that this Connor Harolds can be trusted?"

"They are strange indeed, and I do not know what to make of them just yet," Aragorn sucked on his pipe thoughtfully. "I believe that the lesser soldiers can be trusted My Lord, and I believe them to be genuine. The problem is that they are very much under the influence of Harolds, who, as you have seen, cannot bring himself to fully accept the situation they have found themselves in. They follow his orders without question, and are wary of reprimand."

"Yes, he is a worrisome man," Gandalf added, "Blind to things he does not wish to see. And too rash for his own good."

"He is an effective leader though. As I said earlier, they are a fearsome unit, skilled and brave. They defended the Hobbits attacked the Nine without hesitation, and then continued to do so on the journey here. I do not doubt Harolds' intentions; he is not an enemy to us, nor would he see our enemies here."

Elrond nodded. "It is not his intent that I fear Estel. He simply wishes to see himself and his companions back to their world. But it is the lengths he might go to accomplish this that worry me."

There was a silence.

"The Ring?" Glorfindel asked the question that need not be asked.

"Indeed my friend. It was necessary for us to tell him of Sauron and the One Ring, and it was only natural for him to want use it to try and return to his homeland. But I cannot allow it. The Ring would easily corrupt him, and I would not condemn a Man to such a Fate. Not even one so brash as he."

Gandalf agreed. "There is no question on the matter Elrond. No one can wield that evil thing for any purpose, it is unthinkable. The severity of the situation with the Ring will come to these people quickly, and I am sure that they will realize it would be futile to try and use it."

"So then, where does that leave us on the situation?"

"I have invited Master Harolds and his company to sit in during our council," The Elven Lord began, "And he readily agreed. The Ring must be taken to Mount Doom, and if I have foreseen things clearly, he will wish to accompany the Ringbearer on his quest."

"And you would allow this?" Aragorn queried, "When it is clear he may still want to use the Ring to aid himself?"

"It will be none of our decisions, save for the Ringbearer," Gandalf said with a note of sadness, "Frodo will ultimately have the final say. But I do believe the boy will welcome them, especially when he learns of how they saved his life and aided his friends."

Glorfindel seemed a little confused. "The Hobbit will take the Ring to Mordor? You have seen this then my Lord?"

Elrond shook his head, "I have not seen it clearly, but Gandalf is sure the Hobbit will be the Bearer. He has already taken it this far, and out of obligation it seems he will be willing to go further."

"Frodo is too responsible for his own good," the old wizard said, "He will undertake the burden, I am certain of it. Though I wish he would not."

"These Hobbits are stout of heart Gandalf, and continue to surprise me. But I will keep my eyes on him, and on this Harolds if he does indeed join this quest," Aragorn interjected, "There will be enough dangers on the road without dangers from within our own company."

"It will be dangerous," Elrond agreed, "Filled with peril. But it will ultimately be necessary. Come now, we must discuss the details of the quest and the council. Hand me those papers there Gandalf."

Late into the night the small group poured over fine details, ironing out their plans for the coming days. Despite the arrival of these fascinating strangers, they had much graver issues, and could not waste what little time they had debating about them. That would have to wait for another day.

Still, each of them could not quash the little niggling doubts about these Canadians that harbored in the back of their minds. They seemed friendly enough, and willing to help them, but it was hard to completely trust them.

These were indeed strange times for Middle Earth.


TBC in Chapter 05 - Coffee and Cigarettes


Notes : Distrustfulness amongst everyone. I hadn't really intended for this chapter to be solely on Elrond, Gandalf, and Connor's meeting, but as I was writing it just kept coming and coming until I realized I'd written nearly 11 pages. Oh well. Next chapter the Canadians get a nice breakfast, learn about Gandalf's true nature, and Frodo wakes up. Oh, and a certain Mirkwood cutie may show up in Rivendell soon.

Comments and constructive criticism can be sent to freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com. I like getting responses. Please let me know what you think!