Authors Note: Thankyou once again for the reviews! Hugs and obergines for all! This chapter will go a bit slow, but after this one I'm going to try and get the Fellowship out of Rivendell pretty quick so I can get the Quest on with. If anyone has any ideas on how I can write the Council in a more interesting way I'll give you an extra obergine for it....

Anyhoo, this chapter has finally worked out (thank the Valar...) so here ya go, after some notes to you wonderful wonderful people I want to hug to death because you review.

Anorlas: I know a lot of Legolas's family history has golden-haired Elves, but in truth we know nothing of his mother, and I may be applying the 'illegitimate Legolas' theory here, so his mother could have been dark- haired. As for canon-reference to the colour: it is when they are travelling along the Anduin, and Legolas is looking to shoot the Nazgul, and Frodo looks up at his 'dark head'. I know it's night but that said 'dark hair' to me. If anyone wants my 'ancestry of Legolas has dark-hair rant' then ask in the review and I'll stick it with the next chapter.

Jazmin: There is too much of Legolas and Aragorn these days. So I'm supplying Gimli. Go me! ^^;

Lady Korana: Ah, the blonde Legolas was actually a typo. I am very silly. Thankyou for reminding me about that. I will fix it now!

Tina: Me? Disappear? There's too much of me to disappear! Unfortunately, my faithful WordPad does not have a 'web-page' option to save. I'll have to stick to the funky asterikses (with the new funky spelling). Oh, and slash? Yes... heh heh. Well it was going to be the only pairing I can stick, as-in Gimli/Legolas.

Aislynn Crowdaughter: I for one see Gimli as having a rather sarcastic sense of humour at times. Also, I can see him as having a lot of weaknesses about his character that he hides from everyone else. Oh, Legolas won't suffer! Valar, no! I love Legolas! He'll be the strong warrior-Elf who sings and dances abut on the snow being cheeky to the Wizard. And his vocabulary will extend beyond 'orcs!' and will not fall in love with anyone falling from the sky. Rant over.

Honesty: You are a very scary person, yes. But seriously, you're one of my favourite authors and the mere thought of you sitting down to read my story is... wow *goes red*. Why not slash? Because, unfortunately, I cannot write romance, nor can I write slash (I've tried. It's crap) so I don't want to ruin it. But after Lothlorién I may stick in some slashy-undertones that can be interpreted however you see fit.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm even borrowing my body from God. I'll have to give it back to him at some point :( some text is taken from Tolkien's books. I don't own this either. You should know which it is.

*............* indicates italics. I can't use html. I'm stupid.

~Through the Eyes of a Stranger~

Gimli paused in his thoughts. He knew the tale of how Bilbo had come by the Ring, as his elders who had gone on the Quest for Erebor had recounted it to him afterwards, though Gimli had found it a little strange that it had been a 'present' to Bilbo, but had not thought it his place to question it, and had kept his tongue in check. But how had *Gollum* got the Ring? It was something Gimli had never wondered at before. But then, he reasoned, he had never known how important this Ring may have been.

Bilbo told his tale, and Gimli, who knew the story, began to sink into his own thoughts. The hobbit's method of story-telling was long-winded and detailed, and Gimli began to ponder what would happen if the Ring was the ruling ring, which Elrond and Gandalf both seemed convinced it was, which was enough for the young Dwarf. Gimli could see no option other than hiding it or, he shuddered to think, destroying it. But what would that entail? Which poor souls would take it? How would they get there? Gimli was so lost in his musings that, when he snapped back to the present, Bilbo was telling the story of Gollum and the riddle game, and, to Gimli's surprise, this tale was wholly new. It wasn't a birthday present at all! Gimli felt strangely satisfied; he had been right! The 'present' version had seemed strange to him, but the real version made much more sense. After more long- winded explanations about Mirkwood, the Lonely Mountain, Dale, the Arkenstone, the Battle of Five Armies and the journey home, Elrond raised a hand to cease the hobbit's talk.

Next, poor Frodo was told to tell his tale, which he did, though uncertainly and with a few pauses as he struggled to remember details. Every time something odd happened, Frodo was stopped and his story so far considered upon at great length. Once again, Gimli kept his opinions to himself (and it took quite a lot to make him do that) and allowed the rest of the council to do the considering, though he absorbed all the facts and possibilities to be thought upon later. The Black Riders, Tom Bombadil, the incident and meeting with Aragorn in Bree, the attack on Weathertop... Gimli found himself becoming more and more amazed at the stalwart hobbits- they seemed unbeatable by any foe so far placed in front of them. They had tough bones and Gimli admired their deeply buried courage.

After his tale was over, Frodo sat down, looking weary but relieved to have the burden of his tale off of his chest. He was speaking quietly with Bilbo when Galdor, the Elf sent by Círdan from the Havens, cried out. "You speak for me also," he turned to Elrond, his grey gaze unsure. He questioned imploringly the proofs the Wise had that Ring was Isildur's, and to know the reason for the absence of Saruman, a name Gimli had only heard once or twice. He knew only that he was a very powerful and wise Wizard of Gandalf's Order.

Gandalf told then a tale that shocked Gimli more than the tale even of Frodo. The wizened old wizard told of his venturing past the doors of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur, the visit to the library of Minas Tirith, his description of the scrolls of Isildur, of his ill-founded advice from Saruman, resulting in Gandalf biding his time and tending to matters other than the Ring. He then told of the attempted capture of Gollum which failed, and of the test performed on the Ring to test whether it was truly the Ring of Isildur. Then Gimli began to wonder at the fact that this wizard, his old friend who he had known since he was knee-high to a hobbit, had found time to help and visit Gimli and his family when he had so many other imortant matters to attend to. Still, this made Gimli all the more grateful that the cranky old man had found it in his heart to look out for the exiled dwarves, because if he had not done so Gimli guessed that neither he nor many of his family would be alive today.

Gimli caught himself mentally. He had been just about to sink into a vast void of depression and terrible memories, something he was often poised to do. he had learnt to catch himself, to judge when he was on the point of no return, and to jerk himself back from it. Before, when he was younger, he had been unable to do that and would often lapse into a sullen silence as he wallowed in a pit of despair.

It was at that moment that something strange happened. The wizard's voice became harsh and distant; it was so powerful that the air shook and Gimli could have sworn that the ground beneath his feet trembled.

"*Ash nazg durbataluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakataluk, agh burzum- ishi krimpatul.*"

Dark clouds swirled overhead, blocking the sunlight. A harsh wind whistled through the trees, and some copper leaves blew from their branches. Gimli felt a cold stab in his chest, like a hand of ice grasping his heart and wrenching, twisting, trying in vain to pull it from his body. He gasped, and shut his eyes tight an attempt to block out the terrible feeling. It passed as soon as it had come, but it left Gimli feeling weak. He looked around, trying to stop trembling, and saw that all the elves were looking shocked, and many were cautiously removing their hands from their place over their ears. It was Elrond who spoke first, and even he sounded as though he had to force his voice not to shake.

"Never before has any voice dared to utter that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf the Grey."

"And let us hope that none will ever speak it here again," Gandalf replied, sitting himself down and leaning heavily on his staff as he did so; those words had not affected the wizard the least, it seemed. "Nonetheless I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond. For if that tongue is not soon to be heard in every corner of the West, then let all put doubt aside that this thing is indeed what the Wise have declared: the treasure of the Enemy, fraught with all his malice; and in it lies a great part of his strength of old. Out of the Black Years have come the words that the Smiths of Eregion heard, and knew that they had been betrayed:

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them.

Know also, my friends, that I learned yet more from Gollum. He was loth to speak and his tale was unclear, but it is beyond doubt that he went to Mordor, and there all that he knew was forced from him. Thus, the Enemy knows now that the One is found, that it was long in the Shire; and since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, he soon will know, already may know, even as I speak, that we have it here."

Once more the Council fell into a silence. Gimli looked down, studying his boots. He was still slightly shaky at Gandalf's sudden speaking of the Black Speech, and he still felt strangely cold and sick inside. Was there any hope for Middle-earth? If so, could not someone give some words of encouragement? Maybe something like: If we are all happy and get along together, Sauron will be revulsed and give up. Gimli mentally scolded himself for trying to be humourous about something as deathly serious as this. And it had not even been funny. Merely awfully twisted.

Eventually, Boromir spoke, and the sudden sound of his voice made Gimli jump slightly. He looked up swiftly, and saw that Boromir was sitting forward, his chin resting on his hands, and his elbows propped on his knees. "He is a small thing, you say, this Gollum?" He queried, sounding as though he were merely curious, but his eyes seemed strange; a cold fire flickered in them, "Small, but great in mischief. What became of him? To what doom did you put him?"

*Good question*. Gimli thought. *What has happened to that vile creature? Did Gandalf kill him? I do not think that would be Gandalf's way.*

"He is in prison, but no worse," said Aragorn. "He had suffered much. There is no doubt that he was tormented, and the fear of Sauron lies black on his heart. Still I for one am glad that he is safely kept by the watchful Elves of Mirkwood."

At this point, it was all Gimli could do not to cough pointedly. Hardly watchful Elves, he thought, that allowed their guards to get drunk on heady wine meant for their king, and to let thirteen dwarves and a hobbit all escape right under their noses. Obviously, Aragorn did not possess the memory of that incident, or he was just conveniently forgetting in favour of the first-born.

"He could work much mischief still, if he were free. I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand." the Ranger finished.

"Alas! alas!" at that, Legolas stood up, his eyes wildly searching the council room. "The tidings that I was sent to bring must not be rold. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."

"Escaped?" Aragorn exclaimed, surprise flitting momentarily across his features. "That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?"

Though the news was terrible, and already the dwarf rued what had happened, it barely surprised him. *Score two for escaped prisoners.* he thought to himself. *Probably the elves found some more vintage wine in their cellars.*

"Not through lack of watchfulness," replied the Wood-elf, and Gimli swore he glanced in his direction. He hoped the Elf could not read minds. "But perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day and night, at Gandalf's bidding, much though we wearied of the task. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, nad we had not the heart to keep him ever in the dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old black thoughts."

"You were less tender to me," Glóin exclaimed, frowning at the old memories. Gimli too felt hot anger stir in his heart; the elves found it in their hearts to treat a miserable, wicked creature such as Gollum with kindness, but not thirteen hungry, lost and sick dwarves? It made Gimli sick- the dwarves did not like the elves, and did not always treat them with respect, that was true, but the elves did not treat them with any more than they were given. But still, giving this creature more kindness than he deserved, and treating the dwarves like true criminals was an evil thing, in the mind of Gimli.

"Now come!" Gandalf said, obviously making a great effort to keep the peace. "Pray do not interrupt, my good Glóin. That was a regrettable misunderstanding, long set right. If all the grievances that stand between Elves and Dwarves are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council."

Glóin rose from his seat and bowed, though Gimli knew that he was bowing in respect for Gandalf's words, not to apologise to Legolas. The Elf acknowledged the gesture with a short nod of his head, but obviously knew that it was meant to Gandalf, not for himself. When Glóin had seated himself, Legolas continued.

Gimli lost concentration whilst the Elf talked. True, his voice was sweet and captivating, but Gimli was determined not to succumb to it's spell, even if that meant not listening. He caught snatches of phrases, about how they let Gollum climb a tree he liked often, and about the Orcs that had come upon them, and that after the attack, Gollum had vanished.

"Well, well, he is gone," Gandalf sighed. "We have no time to seek for him again. He must dow hat he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have forseen."

"And now," he continued, "I will answer Galdor's other questions. What of Saruman? What are his counsels to us in this need? This tale I must tell in full, for only Elrond has heard it yet, and that in brief; but it will bear on all that we must resolve. It is the last chapter in the Tale of the Ring, so far as it has yet gone."

The Wizard's tale then wound on, to his meeting with Radagast the Brown, his meeting with Saruman, whose treachery was revealed, and his imprisonment on top of Orthanc, before he was rescued by Gwaihir the Windlord, greatest of Eagles.

He then told of his visit to Rohan, and then of his meeting with Barliman, giving him the fateful letter. Frodo cried out in alarm then, thinking that Gandalf had done something terrible to the bumbling innkeeper. The wizard laughed, and told Frodo that no harm had come to Butterbur; indeed, quite the opposite, because Butterbur told him of the hobbits taking Strider with them. Frodo quieted, and Gandalf continued; his tale travelled to Weathertop and then the praise of Shadowfax, the great steed he had taken from Rohan. Gimli shuddered a little, and Glóin looked sidelong at him. Gimli feared horses greatly, but he overcame quickly the clutch of dread on his heart, and did not meet his father's gaze, looking straight ahead. Gandalf asked the council to forgive the length of his account, and sat down, looking vaguely satisfied.

There was a silence whilst everybody digested Gandalf's news. The expression on the face of each council member was troubled, but Gimli did not notice. He too was immensely anxious and, though he would never admit it to anyone, he was quite scared about what the future would bring. Treachery. Was the world not evil enough without a noble and wise being decieving them, to join the Enemy? Treachery was an evil greater than any that Sauron could conjure, Gimli knew. His heart burned in anger and he knew that if he saw Saruman's slimy face he would be unable to be restrained from planting his large fist right in the centre of it, with considerable force.

"This is grievous news concerning Saruman," Elrond sighed. For a moment he looked old, though his face was as ageless as ever. It was a strange moment, but it passed, "for we trusted him and he is deep in all our counsels. It is perilous to study too deep into the arts of the Enemy, for good or ill. But such falls and betrayals, alas, have happened before."

Deep into our counsels? Gimli thought. Well, that makes sense, I suppose. It just makes his treachery thrice as evil.

"I have known few hobbits, save Bilbo here; and it seems to me that he is not so alone and singular as I had thought him." At this point Bilbo looked disgruntled and annoyed. Frodo smiled, and it was the first true smile Gimli had seen on him, though it was a little strained.

Elrond continued to speak, and Gimli began to wonder at the fact that many of his elders told him he spoke too much. Had they never been acquainted with elves, hobbits or wizards? He doubted it, now. "Iarwain Ben-adar we called him, oldest and fatherless. But many other names he has since been given by other folk: Forn by the Dwarves, Orald by Northern Men and many other names beside. He is a strange creature, but maybe I should have summoned him to our Council." It took Gimli a little while to get back on track. The mention of Forn informed him that they were discussing the ridiculous creature of Bombadil, whom the hobbits had encountered.

"He would not have come," Gandalf replied simply.

Erestor stirred, and spoke. Whether he was speaking just to Gandalf and Elrond or to the entire Council was difficult to tell, "Could we not still send messages to him and obtain his help?" he queried. "It seems that he has power even over the Ring."

"No, I should not put it so," said Gandalf. Of course you wouldn't, Gimli thought, you can never put it the same way as normal people. "He is his own master. But he cannot alter the Ring itself, not break its power over others. And now he is withdrawn into a little land, within bounds that he has set, though none can see them, waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them."

"But within these bounds nothing seems to dismay him," Erestor countered, echoing Gimli's thoughts. "Would he not take the Ring and keep it there, for ever harmless?"

"No," Gandalf replied, "not willingly. He might do so, if all the free folk of the world begged him, but he would not understand the need."

Not understand the need? Gimli thought, perplexed, what is there not to understand? If he does not take it, Middle-earth will be over-run with darkness. If he does, it will be safe, for a while at least.

"But in any case," Glorfindel sighed, shaking his magnificent golden head, "to send the Ring to him would only postpone the day of evil. He is far away. We could not now take it back to him, unguessed, unmarked by any spy. And even if we could, soon or late the Lord of the Rings would learn of its hiding place and would bend all his power towards it. Could that power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not. I think that in the end, if all else is conquered, Bombadil will fall, Last as he was First; and then Night will come."

Still a notable lack of hopeful, comforting words, Gimli noted. He glanced sidelong at Frodo; he was grasping the arms fo his chair so hard that his knuckles were white, and he did not appear to be listening to the debate at all. Instead, he seemed to be struggling with some internal battle.

"Power to defy out Enemy is not in him," Galdor said quietly, "unless such power is in the earth itself. And yet we see that Sauron can torture and destroy the very hills. What power still remains lies with us, here in Imladris, or with Círdan at the Havens, or in Lórien. But have they the strength, have we here the strength to withstand the Enemy, the coming of Sauron, at the last, when all else is overthrown?"

There was a moment of quiet then. To Gimli, the answer seemed plain enough. It was 'no'.

"I have not the strength," said Elrond, and he sounded weary; "neither have they."

"Then if the Ring cannot be kept from him for ever by strength," Glorfindel answered, "two things only remain for us to attempt: to send it over the Sea, or to destroy it."

"But Gandalf has revealed to us that we cannot destroy it by any craft that we here possess," said Elrond, and it seemed that it was only his self- discipline that was keeping him from sounding distraught and at wit's end. "And they who dwell beyond the Sea would not recieve it: for good or ill it belongs to Middle-earth; it is for us who still dwell here to deal with it."

"Then," said Glorfindel, who appeared to have taken charge of the decision- making, in the face of his lord's hoplessness, "let us cast it into the deeps, and so make the lies of Saruman come true. For it is clear now that even at the Council his feet were already on a crooked path. He knew that the Ring was not lost forever, but wished us to think so; for he began to lust for it himself. Yet oft in lies truth is hidden: in the Sea it would be safe."

"Not safe for ever," said Gandalf. He seemed to determined to be as gloomy as was possible today. "There are many things in the deep waters; and seas and lands may change. And it is not out part here to take thought only for a season, or for a few lives of Men, or for a passing age of the world. We should seek a final end of this menace, even if we do not hope to make one."

"And that we shall not find on the roads to the Sea," Galdir sighed. "If the return to Iarwain be thought too dangerous, then flight to the Sea is now fraught with gravest peril." his fair face was full of despair; he obviously dreaded the road he would have to take on his return to Círdan. "My heart tells me that Sauron will expect us to take the western way, when he learns what has befallen. He soon will. The Nine have been unhorsed indeed but that is but a respite, ere they find new steeds and swifter. Only the waning might of Gondor stands now between him and a march in power along the coasts into the North; and if he comes, assailing the White Towers and the Havens, hereafter the Elves may have no escape from the lengthening shadows of Middle-earth."

Elves, thought Gimli irritably, always the elves. What about the other peoples? Do you not worry about how they will escape from the Darkness of Mordor? I don't suppose you give thought to us; as long as you can escape to your haven, why worry about everyone else, living their temporary lives in fear and enslavement?

"There are but two courses, as Glorfindel already has declared:" Erestor said, "to hide the Ring for ever or to unmake it. But both are beyond our power. Who will read this riddle for us?

"None here can do so," said Elrond, sounding more sure of himself. "At least none can foretell what will come to pass, if we take this road or that. But it seems to me now clear which is the road that we must take. The westward road seems easiest. Therefore it must be shunned. It will be watched. Too often the Elves have fled that way. Now at this last we must take a hard road, a road unforseen. There lies our hope, if hope it be. To walk into peril- to Mordor. We must send the Ring to the Fire."

After that statement, Gimli heard little of the council. Send it to the Fire? Surely the Enemy would have all the roads to and from Mordor guarded vigilantly? And who would take it? A large army, capable of keeping the forces at bay, at least for a little while? But them, what would happen when they reached Mordor? No army would be capable of storming the Dark Tower, and reaching Mount Doom. And there was also the risk that the Bearer would claim the Ring for his own before they reached to Fire. What would happen then?

For that matter, who would be the bearer? Not an elf. The elves were fading. They would not want to risk going to Mordor to destroy the Ring. Men? No. The tale of Isildur was enough to know that it was not safe. Dwarves? They were incorruptable, the Ring would affect them less than other races, and they were strong and steadfast, and would probably make it across Mordor, but the elves would not trust a mere Dwarf with the fate of the world.

But that left...

"I will take the Ring," Frodo said softly, his small face drawn and pale with worry and fear, though his eyes were defiant. "Though I do not know the way."

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Finally! I actually finished this chapter! Rejoice! Please leave a review on the way out, and I promise that this story will pick up before long. Writing the Council of Elrond is harder than I ever would have imagined! Oh, and I need to request a beta reader. If you are willing, please say in your review and I will get back to you. Leave your e-mail address if it's not on your profile. Cheers!

~DtT~