Footsteps to Rivendell
A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien
By Ellwyn Phoenix
(jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com)
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Chapter Four: Decision
"I have summoned you here to discuss the matter of the One Ring," Elrond's voice was ringing out loud and clear. A strong sense of dread that no one could grasp permeated the air. "Frodo, the Ring."
The intimidated halfling slowly approached the center of the circle where stood a pillar of stone. And from his pocket he withdrew a small golden circle. Hesitatingly he placed it on the stone, and everyone seated around it felt a sudden simultaneous shiver. The feeling of power was immense.
Legolas stared at it, his jaw clenched, his fingers grasping the arms of his chair. He was tense, breath subdued and senses wary. Tearing his gaze away from the golden band, he looked around at the council and silently noticed that each of them was undergoing a similar reaction.
"…It is a gift," a murmur arose from across the circle. "Do you not see? It has been given to us, the power has been placed in the hands of the foes of Mordor!" The man Legolas had seen arriving before him the other day, the man of Gondor who bore the hunting horn, was standing now, hands beseeching those around him. "Long have my people defended the borders against the dark lord…"
"We cannot wield it!" another man retorted reproachfully. He stood and looked the speaker straight in the eye.
"What say have you in these matters? You are but a mere ranger." The man's voice was full of scorn.
Legolas felt a hot anger surge up. He knew the 'mere ranger' all too well now—Aragorn, heir of Isildur, the ranger known as Strider who had before visited Northern Mirkwood. Legolas knew the story, he knew the facts, and he knew the line of blood. The man from Gondor was not in his place.
He stood and looked sternly at the man. "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance." His voice came out proud and haughty, ringing clearly, much to his surprise, since the entirety of the previous night had been spent weeping himself hoarse. There was still a lingering pain in his chest but he ignored it now. There were more important matters to attend to. First and foremost, that little band of gold that stood in the center of the council. Such a small thing…
Yet he felt the power emanating from it. He could almost hear the foul tongue of Mordor echoing in his ears. Ash nazg timbalûk… He clenched his jaw fiercely and pushed the voices out of his mind with all his will.
"He is Aragorn? You must jest."
Aragorn hesitated and Legolas saw him push down an angry retort. Instead, he raised his hand and motioned for Legolas to sit.
Legolas sat, his eyes lingering on the Ring. There it sat, exuding the very core of evil. Placed in the hands of a frightened halfling. Such a thing would decide the course of the future, of the world. If the council did not choose wisely everything would crumble. And he was fretting over a maiden he had met when he was but a child? He felt the sudden urge to laugh at himself.
But still, the pain he could not forget or push completely out of his mind. He could still hear the council speaking and he listened, but only from a distance. Their voices sounded faint.
"Never come looking for me. Never speak to me." Erlyannil's words echoed in his ears but with an effort he pushed them aside and brought his attention into focus. It was a pity he had finally gotten the chance to see her again in such troubled times. In fact, perhaps it would have been better had he not even seen her. He shouldn't have searched the city last night. Legolas grimaced. His cheek below his right eye still stung, but only lightly. All the same, it was too distinct a reminder of the pain. The pain he felt. The pain he had undoubtedly caused her.
He saw it in her eyes. That wild look in her eyes, and he felt the fierce beating of her heart against his. Yet she only gave it for moments, and in the end it was her…practical side that prevailed. Practical? Yes, that was the right word. For Legolas had been the irrational one, thinking blindly that after so long a time she would still want to see him and awaken all the memories so long gone.
"Then let us destroy it!" A dwarf suddenly rose from his seat and brandished his ax. It swung onto the metal band and suddenly Legolas felt a deafening surge of unmistakable evil around him. His ears were ringing as he looked down amidst the chaos and saw that the ax had been splintered into pieces. A mithril ax. And the small band lay untouched.
The full weight of the discussion suddenly bore down on him at that moment. Erlyannil was of no more importance than the preparation of the autumn festival next year. The council had seemed serious enough before, and Legolas subconsciously knew the reality of the power that was held in that ring. Yet, not until now had he felt fully the true forces around it. There was evil, and there was only one thing to do with it.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft of which any of us possess here. It must be taken to the cracks of Mount Doom, where it was forged, and cast into the fires of Mordor. One of you must do this." Elrond looked around at the circle. Legolas glowered at the Ring as silence fell upon the council. A faint bird song could be heard somewhere far off and the silent sound of leaves falling upon to the ground of the forest.
"I do not understand all this," the man of Gondor suddenly spoke, "Why do you speak ever of hiding and destroying? Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need?"
"The Ring was made by Sauron and remains for him alone. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. Even I will not wield it, Boromir."
"Nor will I," Gandalf said grimly.
Then who? The question was running through every person's mind at the moment. And it continued to do so until the noon-bell rang in the distance. Still no one spoke. Legolas did not even think twice about answering. Neither Elrond nor Gandalf could wield it, and the power was so great that even while it was not in his possession, Legolas could feel it calling to him. He grasped the handles of his chair and pushed the black words out of his head.
Suddenly, the small hobbit spoke out, quietly at first, but the his voice grew in courage. "I will take the Ring," he said, looking about at the circle with unmistakable fear in his eyes, "though…though I do not know the way."
Elrond looked up at the hobbit. "If I understand aright all that I have heard, I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will."
Legolas was amazed at the hobbit's valor. Yet he knew he must do something…which he did not want to do…
"No matter where you may have to travel, Frodo, by my life I will protect you." Aragorn had stood and now he was kneeling in front of the small hobbit. "You have my sword."
Legolas shoved all hesitation aside and spoke. "And you have my bow." The dwarf said likewise as did the man of Gondor. But Legolas was not paying attention. For his decision rested heavily on his mind. There was no other choice—he had to go, to represent his people, and it was in his responsibility to see it through. And yet…
What if he was to be killed by the servants of Mordor? He had no fear of them, nor of death, but at this point there was nothing more that he wanted than to find her again. For what reason, though? Not to convince her that he loved her, or to persuade her to run away with him, marry him, or love him again--
But to apologize. For having thought she would love him still. For still having loved her and not being able to forget. For seeking her out the night before just to cause her more pain. For having come to the same place at the same time so that she was forced to see him again.
Perhaps it was better, though, that he never saw her again. Perhaps fate meant it to be so. And then there would be nothing in his power to do. He would never see her again, most likely, and she would live happily forever with whoever it was she had met, with one faint memory of that miserable Elf who had remained faithful to her for his entire lifetime. Yes, there was nothing better he could do for her. If he truly loved her he would remove himself from her life completely by never letting himself have the chance of happening upon her for the rest of his life. So that she would be happy, so she wouldn't have to live with the pain that he felt for the last one thousand seven hundred years and that he would most definitely feel for the remainder of his life. If she even felt that pain in the first place.
Legolas sighed and stared at the ground as Elrond bestowed upon the company he had just interjected himself into, the name of the Fellowship of Nine. This journey would be a long one, to put it mildly.
And I'll never see her again. For you, Erlyannil. This is what I will do for you.
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A/N: I used a mixture of the Council scene from the movie and the book, though the majority of it is from the movie (not accurately…I don't have that good of a memory). Just generally, of course, since you all don't want to have to read through it again since you all know what happens. So sorry for inconsistencies or things I left out, but it was for the purpose of shortening it—it had to be included to show some of Legolas' points of view on the circumstances. Otherwise the council is irrelevant. From here forth, the journey as we all know it progresses as will be summarized in the following chapter. And since we all know the story so well, I suppose I'll just skip to the important parts. ^.^
