Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas, Middle Earth, Gondor, or any other reference to Lord of The Rings. Tolkien created them all.

This story was part of a longer one that I began to write a while ago called "The first Centuries". Unfortunately the story began the fall apart, since it was my first story and I was overanxious. It had to be disbanded. But don't fear, for it will return bigger and better (I hope).

So, without further ado, the part that I loved too much for me to destroy it forever:

Duty

The ring had to be destroyed!

Why could they not see it? Could they not smell the stench of evil that it emitted, or feel its power? Could they not even hear its desperate call of longing to its master?

At least Lord Elrond, Mithrander and Estel were talking sense. I wish only that Boromir would listen. I felt almost ashamed that I had once been one of his ancestor's subjects... that I had been one of those who had wished to see the Steward crowned.

Before I realised what I was doing, I found myself facing him: "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The ring must be destroyed!"

I spoke in anger, but I was trying to vent my disappointment on him. I was resentful, for all my dreams for mankind - or almost all my dreams - had been shattered by his stubbornness.

The cursed dwarf interrupted me, and I found my anger turn on him. Thou I agreed that it might not be wise to entrust the ring to an Elf, for even the Eldar might succumb to its will - it was foolish to give it to a man, and downright ridiculous to allow it to come even within reach of a dwarf. Their love for anything that glittered was widely known, and I would not put it past this one - Gimli, son of Gloin - to try and steal it should he get the chance.

No, our only hope was for an Elven Lord, such as Glorfindel, or even Lord Elrond to volunteer for this quest. Even I did not trust myself not to succumb to the will of something so obviously powerful, and evil beyond my comprehension.

But who would volunteer to do something that would surely claim their life in return? Who would have broad enough shoulders to carry the hope and dreams of all of Middle Earth?

And still we argued. No one cared about what, or with whom. We were all acting out of fright, or maybe it was the influence of the ring that spoke through us. Maybe we were all frightened that this burden would be place on us. Maybe we were even more afraid that it would be placed in the hands of another, and we would be unable to influence the future, and all that we hold dear would be lost.

In the heat of the argument, a soft voice spoke out. So soft that none could hear it, or maybe none wanted to hear it. Mithrander turned towards the sound, and I had never before seen his eyes so filled with sadness, despair, and hope.

Somewhere, maybe from Mithrandir's gaze, the speaker found courage, and repeated his statement: "I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor!"

All of the assembly turned towards him. They looked upon him with expressions that ranged from shock, to disbelieve, to hope, to amusement. Again his voice faltered, and he quickly added: "Though I do not know the way."

My mind was in turmoil. At that instant, I knew with every fiber of my being that this was was the moment towards which my entire life had played out. This was why I had been born, why I had known suffering, and why I had, against all odds, survived to reach this council.

But I was frightened... More frightened than I had been when I had faced thousands of Orcs on the battlefield. Mithrander spoke, and agreed to join the little Hobbit on his quest. While Estel rose, my hand inadvertedly grasped the pendant that hung beneath my robes. *Father, if only you were here, you would have given me strength that I now need."

I heard Estel say: "You have my sword." It was now or never.

I took a few steps, hoping that none could see the fear in my eyes. The fear that threatened to overwhelm me. I opened my mouth, and was surprised to hear that my voice was loud and clear:

"And my bow"