Disclaimer: I'm surprised you haven't had enough sarcasm already.

A/N: I know…I gave Glorfindel's part to Arwen. I did this for two reasons. One, I thought Liv Tyler did a nice job as Arwen and two, Arwen already had a relatively significant role in this fic, so I felt that it would probably be most appropriate for her to find Frodo and company. However, Glorfindel still rocks and all that jazz.

Chapter Six: Plotting

Though I was relatively used to being kept in the dark about the recent happenings at Rivendell, I could not help but feel irritated at the lack of information that was available to me. I finally cornered Arwen the next day after lunch and demanded some answers.

"Can you please tell me what's going on, or are you waiting until I'm driven to the ragged edge of insanity before you tell me anything?" I asked as we exited the dining room. She smiled slightly at my exaggerated claims and shook her head gently.

"I cannot tell you all," she explained. "Father wishes it to remain secret until the Council." I screwed up my face into a somewhat mixed expression of annoyance and exaggerated pain. She smiled softly and continued in a lower voice. "Frodo has brought the Ring of Power to Rivendell. He was stabbed by a Morgul blade and was greatly injured—Father has been tending to him and he expects he will recover. His companions are due to arrive tomorrow." We walked in silence for a few moments while I attempted to process what she had just told me.

"So…what's the Council?" I asked after a moment.

"Many leaders—Men, Dwarves, and Elves alike—are coming to Rivendell to…discuss the matter of the Ring," she explained, faltering slightly.

"Oh. Could…anyone go?" I queried, attempting to sound casual and not give the impression that my curiosity was getting the better of me. Arwen gave a small laugh and a slightly reproving look.

"Those who are invited may," she replied. I nodded and pretended to examine one of the paintings hanging on the wall, quietly plotting. Three days of not knowing anything was taking its toll and I silently made the decision to attend the Council whether or not I was invited.

The companions Arwen mentioned earlier arrived around lunchtime, bringing a large commotion in their wake. There were four of them—one man and three hobbits. The hobbits were the first ones I'd ever seen up close and as a result, I was compelled to stare at them extensively. I had read several books in which they were mentioned, but the descriptions did not do them justice. They were essentially, curly haired, fuzzy-footed men who stood at somewhere around four feet high. The one they called Sam was perhaps the stoutest of the lot, with a head full of dirty-blond hair, a round face, and puppy-dog eyes. I gathered he was closest to the injured hobbit because he would simply not sit still until he was brought to "Mister Frodo." Once Sam had been taken to see the aforementioned hobbit, the other two quickly set about getting some food in their stomachs. Dear God, could they eat! The scene was slightly reminiscent of my own lunchroom, with the guys shoveling as much food as possible into their mouths in the shortest amount of time. It both amusing and disgusting to observe.

The other member of the party was a man. He looked rather accustomed to being outdoors, as he was rather rugged, wearing clothes that could have done with a good washing and mending. His hair was longish and rather shaggy, and he had the beginnings of a beard. He possessed a pair of sharp green eyes that darted quickly around the room, seemingly in search of someone or something.

Eventually, the novelty of the new guests wore off and I found myself staring at my plate and trying to piece together what Arwen had told me the previous day.

The next morning I wandered in for breakfast to find the place in a general uproar. Frodo had evidently awoken and was feeling much better, as he was surrounded by his three friends as well as a crowd of well-wishers. I elbowed my way to my seat, intent on enjoying my breakfast. Arwen was as absolute bore, often spacing off with a rather dreamy smile pasted upon her lips. I found my plate far more entertaining.

The following day was definitely the loudest, as well as the most crowded. Most of the Council invitees had managed to show up in time for breakfast, so by the time I got down to the dining room, my usual seat had been taken over by several men. Deciding that it would be better not to bother them, I sat down near the end of the table, right next to a party of Dwarves.

I made a very important discovery that morning: I really do not like Dwarves.

They were about the same height as the hobbits, but nowhere near as endearing and significantly hairier and the customs of their culture apparently stipulated that a bath be taken every third decade or so. I mulled over my breakfast, feeling slightly betrayed. Disney had disillusioned me. Snow White would have passed out if she met these Dwarves—either from their smell or their attitude. Their humor was rather poor as well and I had a bit of a run-in with one they called Glóin, who could seriously not take a joke.

While they were loud, boisterous, and constantly looked at me as though my mere existence was offensive, they were by no means discreet in their conversation. By listening carefully and feigning lack of interest, I quickly learned the time and place of the Council. When it became significantly difficult to refrain from stuffing a napkin down some certain Dwarven throats, I excused myself and returned to my room to plot.

By lunchtime, I had managed to formulate a somewhat half-baked plan that had a chance of working if fate permitted. I returned to the dining room to find it fairly swarming with people, some of whom had evidently just arrived. I managed to win myself a seat farther away from the Dwarves. I spent the majority of my meal apologizing the man on my right, who I constantly bumped elbows with (he was left-handed). For the second time that day I excused myself early and retreated to the sanctuary of my room. I exchanged the gauzy mauve dress the maid had forced me into that morning for a simpler blue muslin frock that had no ridiculous train to worry about. I settled myself into a chair, picked up my current book of choice, and waited for the time to pass.