Disclaimer: I claim no characters or locations, for they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I do claim, however, the revised plot.

Chapter IV: Change of Plan

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond."

The Lord of Rivendell smiled warmly. "Frodo Baggins, it is we who should be thanking you. You risked much for us, and for all the Free Peoples. And now, return home, to the peaceful life you have earned."

Frodo nodded, and turned to join his friends on the bridge. Then he paused, turned back, and said, "I'm afraid the Shire, peaceful as it is, may seem a bit boring at times. Would you mind awfully if I perhaps came to visit occasionally?"

Elrond laughed. "Of course not. You may return to Rivendell whenever you wish. And bring some companions – I'm sure Samwise won't object to seeing elves again."

Frodo laughed, the first time he had done so since recovering from his injuries. "No, my Lord, I don't believe he will. Farewell, then, for now." With that, he joined Sam, Merry and Pippin on the narrow bridge. The four turned to wave one last time, then turned west, towards home and safety. Elrond watched them go, and then turned to his companions.

"A great hero has just left my house," the half-elf said, "yet I believe in a few lives of Men, none will remember his name."

"That is the way he wants it," replied Gandalf. "No fame, no fortune, just a peaceful life in the Shire."

"And he will get it," said the third member of the group. "Halbarad and his sons are watching them as we speak, and will guard them, unseen, to the borders of the Shire."

Elrond smiled. "The Halflings were fortunate indeed that you met them, Estel," he said. "With the Dunedain watching over them, they will be safe indeed." Aragorn nodded at this, but his face remained grim. Elrond sighed. "We, however, are not so fortunate. The council has been convened, and merely awaits our presence. Come." With that, he turned back to the Last Homely House, his two companions behind him as he strode towards the porch where the council had gathered.

As the trio passed out of the eastern doors of the House, they discovered a council of sorts already running.

"You would leave the White City unwarned in favour of your own halls!"

"Nay, Boromir, that was not what I said. I meant only that we should place priority on warning those realms in immediate danger."

"And you say that Gondor is not? Might I remind you that Saruman need only march his troops across Rohan, never even facing resistance unless he draws near the mountains, to find himself . . ." Boromir's voice tailed off as he realised he was the only one left speaking. Turning, he saw with shock that Elrond had stepped out onto the porch.

"Yes, Boromir, that is indeed true," stated Elrond. "Yet Prince Legolas also speaks true – Saruman is more likely to attack Rohan first, if only so that he cannot be attacked on two fronts when he does arrive at Minas Tirith."

Boromir bowed slightly and seated himself. Elrond then turned to Legolas. "But you, Thranduilion. Why do you say that your father's halls are endangered? Saruman has not the strength to attack so far to the north."

"Not Saruman, no," replied Legolas, seating himself. "But Gwaihir has just departed, and brought fearful news. Smoke has been sighted rising over the East Gate of the Mines of Moria, and more over Dol Guldur. If darkness is rising again in the south of Mirkwood, the only reasonable assumption is that my home will be assaulted ere long."

"Perhaps not all this smoke heralds evil," put in Glóin of Erebor. As Legolas turned towards him, preparing to lash out for the implication that an attack on Mirkwood was not evil, the dwarf continued. "We know of how Balin travelled to reclaim Khazad-Dûm – perhaps he has succeeded indeed, and the smoke at the East Gate rises from furnaces within."

"I hope that that is indeed the case," said Elrond, "but whether it be or not, Dol Guldur is still a threat. And so we must fight no two, perhaps three fronts: Saruman strikes at Rohan, Dol Guldur and whatever evil dwells there strikes at Mirkwood, and maybe something from beneath the mountains is awakened to assault Lothlórien."

Boromir looked at the Elf Lord in shock. Lothlórien, the Golden Wood, home of a powerful witch, had long been a legend among his people. Was Elrond saying that the tales were true?

Heedless of this reaction to his words, Elrond continued. "Legolas, you spoke to Gwaihir. What news did he bring of Landroval?"

"No news, my lord," replied the prince. "He said only that his brother had not returned, and that they feared for him."

"News this is indeed, and grave news at that," said Gandalf. "The Great Eagles move swiftly, and Landroval should have returned long ago. If he has not, then I fear him captured, or slain."

Elrond rose. "Whatever has befallen Landroval, it places us in a perilous situation. News we have not, yet news we need, from all of the sites under threat. Gandalf, Estel, you two shall travel south with all speed, to learn what has befallen Rohan."

"And what of me?" cried Boromir, leaping to his feet. "If Rohan falls, Gondor will be next. Will you not send me to help my people?"

"What could one man, however brave, do against the hordes of Saruman?" asked Elrond. Before Boromir could respond, he continued. "Nothing alone, but I suggest this. Legolas' and Glóin's parties will be returning to their homes, to warn against the threat of Dol Guldur, and to tell of the fall of Sauron. You, Boromir of Gondor, will travel with them, and once the threat to those kingdoms has passed, request that they assist your homeland in repelling Saruman."

Boromir considered this proposition, and then turned to Legolas. "Prince Legolas, will your father send aid to Gondor?"

The elf nodded. "If there is no threat to his kingdom, he will, gladly. It is only with dwarves," at this he turned to glare at Glóin, "that he has trouble."

Elrond frowned. "He may indeed have difficulties with dwarves, but you, Legolas, will have to overcome those problems. I fear that the roads through Mirkwood are dangerous, and the companies of elves and dwarves will need to stay together. Boromir, you will need to ensure that they do so, for both armies will be of help to you."

Boromir nodded, wondering as he did so precisely how he could keep two such argumentative groups together. He would think of something, he was sure.

"And you, Glorfindel," continued Elrond, turning to the golden-haired elf of Rivendell. "You are known of old to Lady Galadriel, so I assign you to take the army of Imladris to Lórien. If there is danger from Moria, you will help defeat it. If there is none, perhaps you can persuade Galadriel to take up her sword once more, and march to the aid of Gondor."

"I will, my lord," replied the elf, and Boromir was shocked at the intensity in his voice. He remembered then the tales of a Glorfindel from the First Age, one who had slain a Balrog, and been slain in return. Surely this could not be the same elf?

"All is arranged, then," said Elrond, snapping Boromir from his thoughts. "Time is short, so you will all leave within two days. Go now to organise your departures." And with that, he rose and re-entered the House.

I am not going to take sides on the issue of how many Glorfindels there are at this point. If I do so later, I'll let you know.

And yes, I'm being nice to Boromir. He deserves it, after all the flak he gets for actions and events not entirely under his control.

Cloaked Eagle