Title: The Weeping Wraith, Chapter Eight
Author: Katharine the Great
Summary: "What were the Riders trying to do?" "They tried to pierce your heart with a Morgul-knife which remains in the wound. If they had succeeded, you would have become like they are, only weaker and under their command. You would have become a wraith under the dominion of the Dark Lord…" --Frodo and Gandalf at Rivendell
Notes: This is now completely A/U, and has elements of the books and the movies within.
Disclaimer: Some of this story is quoted directly from the trilogy itself. I will note these excerpts with italics, so pay attention and don't sue me for plagiarism! I wouldn't dream of such an offense against the great JRR!!
Replies to reviews:
AJ Matthews: Oh, leave those poor fingernails alone! Lol :) Thank you for your prayers; I am sure the Valar will hear them (but Francine might not, bweheheh). Enjoy the continuation!
Jan: The answer to your query was so long, I sent you an email, but for anyone else who was interested, here's the short answer. Chapter One's line, "Dark as it was, the Elf's hair seemed to shine under the starlight," refers mostly to the innate sheen that all the Firstborn possess. Elves are said to constantly "walk in starlight" and all that. Jan rightly pointed out that I couldn't be referring to Legolas' blonde hair, as it was too dark out to see any color. Thanks, Jan, and I hope you continue reading with as much enthusiasm for details!
Mindel: Welcome and thank you! I appreciated your comment about my uniqueness…muchas gracias! Keep enjoying!
PepperVL: As I said to Mindel above, thank you and welcome to the fic! I'm glad you love Legolas—I do, too, although this fic is turning out to be a very "all-character sweep" type instead of a one-character bash. Oh, well, Legolas is still tasty. Enjoy!
Raen: Hello again! I'm sorry I made you edgy. Oh, heck, no I'm not. :) Lol. Francine says thanks for the Grey Poupon, and she is anxious to know if her radishes are soft! She'll eat them even half-rotten! With perhaps some French dressing. Thanks!
Further other notes: If you haven't read "The Silmarillion" by JRR Tolkien, most of the beginning of this chapter won't make much sense. If this is the case for you, GO READ THE BOOK!!! It is excellent, and provides the rich and tumultuous history of Middle-earth. Read it!
Now, on with the tale…
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In the heart of the Golden Wood there was a small, lovingly tended garden. It was ringed by a high green hedge, but lay open to the stars, and therein grew green plants and flowers of many hues. Here there were nodding niphredil and elanor blooms, and also the small yet numerous cul-aglar blossoms of red-gold hue. It was said that such flora sprang to life in the footsteps of Galadriel, the White Lady of the Wood, for it was she who sustained the garden. The evening star shone down more brightly on that place than on any other in the whole of Middle-earth.
Galadriel lifted her clear gaze to the night sky and looked upon that star, the brightest of its fellows. Mighty Gil-Estel it was, the Star of High Hope. Its songs were many, as it was greatly beloved by the Firstborn. Known by many as the Morning and Evening Star, it was said to be the very ship and person of Eärendil the Mariner, husband of Elwing and father of Elrond and Elros the Half-elven. Ancient lore recounted his bold journey across the Sea in search of the Undying Lands and the mercy of the Valar within, and of how both Eärendil and his ship, the Vingilot, were set in the sky by the Lords of Valinor as a sign of hope to the oppressed. And so the Flammifer of Westernesse sailed the dark sea of heaven, casting his white fire down into the eyes and hearts of the Elves who dwelt in the lands of Arda.
"Aglaran elena," Galadriel murmured. Glorious wanderer of the stars. Her daughter Celebrían had wed Elrond Peredhel, the son of Eärendil. Now Celebrían was gone over the Sea, and Elrond remained lord of Imladris; but Galadriel hearkened ever more deeply to the brilliance of Gil-Estel. She had lived endless ages, and though time did not touch the Firstborn as it did mortal Men, she felt the years more keenly with each passing day. Banished she was from the blessed realm of Valinor; still, hope dwelt within her that she might yet return with the pardon of Eru the One. She longed to abide once more with those of her kin that she had left behind in her desire to form a realm of her own within the land of Arda. Lórien, though wondrous even by Elven standards, was but a shadow compared to the bliss and glory of Valinor.
The silver basin that stood within Galadriel's garden was filled with the glimmering water that flowed from the fountain nearby. The Queen of the Galadhrim cast her gaze down into her Mirror, whose light sprang from the luminous beams of Gil-Estel. It rather reminded her of the light of the Two Trees of Valimar, which had shone with glorious radiance before their poisoning at the hands of Morgoth Bauglir. Galadriel remembered well that day, when golden Laurelin and silver Telperion had been snuffed out beneath the black death brought by Morgoth and the hideous she-spider Ungoliant. The quenching of the light of the Trees had set into the motion the events which had led to the flight of the Noldor, Galadriel's people, to Arda.
The Mirror's surface rippled but once as Galadriel looked into its depths. At first there was nothing, only a reflection of the black sky above and its glittering points of light. Then images began to form, drawn from the primeval knowledge and endless sight of the stars themselves. Places both familiar and strange were glimpsed, times of peace and times of war, endless births and deaths, many things great and terrible that rested only in the memory and lore of the Eldar.
Things that were. The past was unchangeable and immovable; its hand was the guide by which the wise were moved.
The images faded and were replaced by a brilliant white light, the same that had so violently invaded her mind and heart upon her few recent visits to the Mirror. Galadriel very nearly drew back, but the light did her no harm, and so she stayed. The light was soon joined by the wailing of a voice filled with endless grief and hatred. Then other voices joined in, some more vehement, some softer, and all mixed with pain and sorrow untold. But Galadriel knew not to whom the voices belonged, nor why they cried so.
The light disappeared to reveal the silver figure that she had seen many a time since the Company's first departure from Lórien. The creature's visage was never plainly visible, and yet Galadriel felt a cold wind on the nape of her neck as she contemplated the glistening robes and fierce gray steed that bore the rider. She had oft wondered if it might be the very Mor-celeb of whom rumor told. Such was not revealed to her, however, and so she kept vigil though she did not know what threat she sensed.
The Mirror was quiet afterward, and images drifted across of the sleeping Halflings, of Elessar lying under the stars, of Gimli and Boromir, those so deeply entwined with the fate of the Ring and therefore the fate of the earth itself. Gandalf remained hidden to her sight, as always before he had been, for the Istari were not so easily revealed. Also Legolas the Elf was absent from view; and now Galadriel's sorrow welled up, for she had hoped to discern the young Prince's fate within the Mirror.
Things that are. The present, ever upon the living, constantly in motion all about them. Change was wrought swiftly, and often without foresight on the part of those whose deeds shaped the past to come.
Galadriel saw a glimmering of new light then. It was not white, but red. Dread sprang up within her. She knew the vision's portent even before it had fully formed. It was the Great Eye of Sauron, wreathed with flame and slit with an empty blackness. Its terrible fire grew to encompass the whole of the Mirror. The Dark Lord sought to know the thoughts of the White Lady, but her mind was as yet closed to his, for he had not the One Ring. The Eye roved back and forth; it was seeking the bearer of the Ring, the young hobbit lying asleep within the Wood. Galadriel hardened her resolve against the Enemy. So long as she and her kin could prevent such, Sauron would never regain the Ring, nor would he bring harm to the Halfling who carried it.
With that vision, the Mirror faded to clear once again. The stars glimmered upon the surface of the water. Galadriel drew away and stood still in thought. The breeze pulled gently at her fair tresses and white robes. Many things would be decided at the Council the next day. She would need all of her wisdom and experience, and also the foresight granted to her, in order to send those under her care into those places and times in which they were needed. Galadriel breathed a soft prayer into the sky, and then turned and retired to her home in the trees.
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"Why, Peregrin Took, your face is so long this morning it's practically dragging on the ground!" Merry declared.
"What's worrying you, Mr. Took? Did you have a nightmare?" Sam asked.
"No," Pippin said forlornly. "It's just that I have the feeling we're to leave here soon, what with the Council meeting today and all. I don't want to go."
"Well, we can't very well stay here forever, 'specially not with that Ring Frodo's carrying," Merry said. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Come come, Pip, cheer up! We'll see what the Lord and Lady say today. Things aren't all that bad. Am I right, Frodo?"
Frodo forced a smile onto his face, though he too was most unhappy at the thought of leaving the peace of Lórien. "Yes, Merry, I believe so. The sooner we rid the world of the Ring, the sooner we can all go home." And Frodo tried with all his might to believe his own words, for he had as of late fallen into despondency regarding what he saw as his probable death within the land of Mordor. The Ring whispered to him, beckoning his hand to take it and claim it for his own. Frodo ignored it as best he could; though the air of Lórien and the sweet melodies of the Elves in the trees helped to smother the Ring's influence for the present.
"Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?" Sam asked concernedly.
Frodo sighed. It seemed to him that the longer he remained with Samwise, the harder it was to conceal his feelings from the other hobbit. "Yes, Sam. I think I may be somewhat reluctant to leave here, as well, but I shan't allow that to stop me from going. I want this cursed thing destroyed!" he said vehemently, and clutched ever more fiercely at the chain about his neck.
Sam nodded sincerely. "We all do, sir. We all do. Like the Gaffer used to say, 'Samwise,' he'd say, 'put things to rights, Samwise Gamgee, and not another thought till you do!'"
Frodo laughed to hear one of Sam's father's old adages roll so easily from his friend's lips. "I declare, Samwise, one day you will become the Gaffer, down to the last proverb!"
Sam shrugged sheepishly. "He says an awful lot, my da does. I can't very well help it if he's right a lot too, can I?"
Frodo laughed again and slipped his earth-colored vest on over his cream shirt, his troubles fading for the moment. "No, I suppose not. Come on then, lads, let's go find breakfast, shall we? I could eat my whole weight and more besides!"
At that, Pippin gave a hurrah. "Well said, Frodo!" he exclaimed. "Myself, I've never been so hungry in all my life!"
"You're not fooling anyone, Pip," Merry told him. "Everyone knows you're a pit without a bottom when it comes to mealtimes. You've been this hungry ever since the day you were born!"
"Still, I'll probably fall over and faint if I don't eat something soon," Pippin replied with a sniff.
"Ah, there you four are!" Gandalf declared, coming upon them quite suddenly. "I have been looking for you. I expected I would find you at breakfast, not here jabbering when there's food to be had!"
"We were just on our way to eat, Mr. Gandalf," Sam said.
"Right, so let's be off!" Pippin chimed in.
"Wait just a moment, you," Gandalf said, and he caught the collar of Pippin's coat and pulled him backward to stand with his fellow hobbits. "You may be interested to know that a rider from Rivendell arrived early this morning, sent by Lord Elrond himself."
Frodo was surprised and also glad, for he had come to love the house of Elrond and those who dwelt there. "What is the rider's name? Why has he come?"
Gandalf began to walk, and he beckoned the four to accompany him. "His name is Lord Alcarin, one of the Eldar and a contemporary of Glorfindel, whom you met upon your approach to Rivendell. Elrond heard news of the return of the Nazgûl, and also of your retreat back to the Golden Wood. He sent Alcarin to glean what word there is to be had of these events."
"Does Master Elrond know that Legolas is trapped in the tower at Isengard?" Frodo asked softly.
The wizard's eyes were creased with sadness. "I do not know, but I can tell you that Elrond is farseeing in more ways than one. If he does not know yet, he will soon."
"What do you suppose will happen then? Will anyone try to rescue Legolas?" Merry asked.
"Why, Meriadoc Brandybuck, of course they will!" Gandalf harrumphed. "The Elves do not take the capture of their own lightly, and much less so the seizure of a prince such as our friend. Do not fear idleness on the part of the Elves!"
Presently the five of them came to one of the many public dining locales. The Elves of Lórien had been instructed to see to the needs of the Company, for they had little means of obtaining their own food in the Wood. Boromir and Gimli were there already, and they were glad to see the hobbits and Gandalf approaching.
"Good morning, little masters, and also to you, Gandalf," Boromir said with a smile. He offered Frodo a piece of fruit. "Come and join us for breakfast, if you will."
Frodo took the fruit. "Thank you, and we will."
Gandalf had already taken his meal with Aragorn in the early morning, and so while the others ate he told them stories of times past. Frodo requested that the wizard tell them more about his early visits to Mirkwood. Gimli and the others agreed, for their curiosity had been piqued by the rapport between Princess Lelemir and Gandalf at supper the night before.
Gandalf chuckled. "Oh ho! You want to hear a tale of Legolas and his sister when they were young and foolish, do you? Ha! There are many to choose from, I assure you; Legolas was quite the cheeky imp in his youth. Lelemir is only two years his senior, and she was not much the better."
Gimli laughed, and Frodo realized that he had not heard the Dwarf utter such a sound of cheer in many days. "So, my friend was not always the proud and pristine creature that he has become! Tell me, Gandalf, what childish pranks Legolas occupied himself with in his youth, so that when he returns I may have the advantage!"
The wizard chuckled again. "I have thought of one just for you, Master Dwarf, although I daresay that Legolas will pull out my beard and use it to string his bow if he learns that I spoke of it."
"Tell us! Tell us!" Merry and Pippin clamored simultaneously.
"Hush, and I shall," Gandalf told them. "Now, this tale takes place nigh on three thousand years in the past. Legolas and Lelemir were twenty-seven and twenty-nine years old, respectively. They had a reputation for being pranksters in those days, although their father adored them for some of their less embarrassing antics. In truth, they were much like Meriadoc and Peregrin here, only more persistent in their tomfoolery. On one of my more memorable visits, they decided to impersonate 'old Mithrandir'—as they called me then—and try to fool their father into thinking that they were me."
Gandalf's eyes twinkled merrily as he recounted the tale. "Lelemir was the older of the two, and so she was likely responsible for the original idea. But Legolas always was the one with more cheek, and I suspect that he did most of the encouraging in their capers.
"Somewhere those two acquired a long gray robe somewhat like mine, and also a tall hat and a long stick which they fashioned to resemble my staff. Legolas was the smaller, so he balanced atop his sister's shoulders. They put on the robe so that it covered Lelemir, and Legolas used a large clump of wisp-reed to mimic my hair and beard. Then they took up the hat and staff, and they went to their father's court."
"Surely they were not admitted as you, Gandalf!" Frodo gasped, laughing so hard he thought his sides would burst.
"Oh, but they were, Frodo," the wizard replied. "Thranduil's household recognized them immediately, of course, but they were so amused that they went along with the joke. Unbeknownst to Legolas and Lelemir, however, I was already in their father's house.
"One of the King's heralds came in and announced with great difficulty that the great Mithrandir had arrived. Thranduil rather guessed that his children were up to something, so he bade me conceal myself until the situation was unfolded. That I did, but I kept my eyes free so that I could see what was happening.
"Imagine my surprise when a shorter, thinner, and altogether unsteady version of myself entered the hall of Thranduil! The King concealed his amusement (for he instantly knew his children), and demanded to know why 'I' was late in arriving. Do you know what that little imp Legolas said in reply?"
None of those listening could answer; they could barely breathe with the force of their laughter. Gandalf, well-pleased with the effect he was having, continued his tale. "Legolas straightened himself up as far as he could, and having deepened his voice as much as possible for a young Elf of fair speech, he said, 'A wizard is never late, nor early. He always arrives exactly at the time he intends to.'"
"You say that often, Gandalf!" Frodo remarked.
"Indeed I do, but because it was then spoken by a mischievous little scamp like Legolas, it was one of the most laughable speeches I have ever heard," Gandalf said. "At the exact moment he finished speaking, however, he and Lelemir lost their balance altogether. They were quickly reduced to a giggling pile of robes and tangled limbs upon the floor. Thranduil leaped to his feet, still feigning unawareness of the joke, and inquired as to whether 'I' needed any assistance. Legolas and Lelemir then lost much of their mirth, because they were certain of a reprimand from their father when he 'found them out.'"
Gimli wiped tears from his eyes, still snorting and chuckling behind his beard. "And did they, Gandalf? What sort of discipline were they awarded?"
"None save the embarrassment they suffered when I emerged, laughing at the mess they had made of themselves," Gandalf replied. He laughed cheerily. "For young Elves, they had quite a bit of pride in them, and I believe every inch of it was trampled when they realized that they weren't as clever as they had thought."
"Say no more, Gandalf, or I shall rend my lungs with laughing!" Boromir panted between guffaws.
"The tale is finished, Boromir, so ease your breathing," Gandalf told him.
"I had almost forgotten that occasion, Mithrandir," said a musical voice from nearby.
Frodo looked around and saw Lelemir herself standing some paces away. Her sapphire dress was long and full, and gathered at the waist with a braid of gold. Long waves of sun-drenched hair cascaded down around her shoulders, the foremost lengths of it being clasped in a golden comb. She came nearer, seeming in the fashion of her people to glide rather than walk. "How is it that such an aged wizard can remember the idle mischief of two young Elves as my brother and I were?" she asked.
Gandalf winked at Frodo, but replied only, "Such things do I remember in order to discomfit the proud when they have matured, Lady."
Lelemir laughed then, the sound echoing in the ears of those present like the murmuring of a sparkling waterfall. "Indeed, it is good to see you again, old friend," she said. "Many years have passed since your last visit to my father's house. I have often longed to speak with you."
At that, Gimli got to his feet and bowed to the princess. "My Lady, if it pleases you, I and my companions would be honored if you would join us at our table, and perhaps share this meal with us."
Lelemir seemed genuinely surprised by the Dwarf's courteous speech. "Forgive my amazement, Master Dwarf, for I am not accustomed to hearing such considerate words in the voice of your people. Mayhap I shall become inured to it, if I hear more. Yes, I will sit with you, although I have taken breakfast already. If nothing more, at least I shall be present to defend my brother and myself against the treacherous tongue of Gandalf!"
Frodo thenceforth observed how very much like her brother Lelemir truly was, in both appearance and action. She was kind and thoughtful, yet possessed of the same wit and good humor common to the Elves. On several occasions Frodo was startled to see an expression in Lelemir that was ostensibly drawn straight from the manner of Legolas, and his heart ached all the more for his missing friend. He wished he could at least know how the Elf was faring; surely his imaginings were worse than the reality, although he shuddered to wonder if perhaps they were in fact better than the truth.
It seemed as though no time at all passed, yet there came a moment when Gandalf peered up through the trees and said, "Ah! The light of the Sun has begun to wane! I believe it is time for the Council to meet, as Galadriel decreed. Come, let us be off to the Hall of Lórien!"
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"Many a decision must be set upon today," Lord Celeborn said softly, casting a somber gaze about the elliptical chamber. "The fates of both Legolas of Mirkwood and Frodo the Ringbearer remain in question. The former is a captive of Orthanc and its lord; the latter is hunted by the Dark One himself—and on all sides there are destructive forces mobilizing. Yet darkness does not hold sway in all the land, for there are even now places of refuge left intact." The Lord of Lórien cast his glance to one side. "Early this morn another was added to the number assembled here, and now I ask that he come forth and present himself and his purpose."
An Elf stepped forward from among the elders. Frodo could see that Aragorn had also stood with the stranger; perhaps they knew each other of old. The new Elf was tall even among the Firstborn, but not as sinuous; he was built powerfully with broad chest and shoulders and strong limbs. His features were chiseled from white granite, it seemed, and his eyes burned a fierce blue-gray. Hair as dark as a raven's wing spilled down his back, and the braids of a warrior were clearly visible at the sides. Frodo was awed, for he had not yet seen any other Elf who appeared so dangerous—and yet so fair. The Elves were mighty in battle, it was true, but few looked so at first glance.
The Elf spoke in a deep voice rich with wisdom and vivacity. "Greetings from Master Elrond and the people of Imladris," he said to all those gathered in the place. "I am Alcarin, head of the Guardians of Elrond's easternmost border. Two days ago the lord of Imladris received word of the return of the Nine, and also of the Fellowship's return to Lothlórien. I am sent here to assess the circumstances and to offer what help I may." With that, he bowed slightly and stepped back into his place among the councilors of Lórien.
Galadriel nodded gravely to Alcarin. "Elrond is swift to come to the aid of his allies," she said.
"Indeed," Celeborn agreed. "And now we must be as swift in our conclusions here. The Quest to destroy the One Ring must persist, that much is certain. What is not determined as of yet is what members of the original Fellowship intend to continue in their charge as such."
"Here there are eight of those nine who set out from Rivendell," Galadriel said. "It would be wise to regain that number, for Elrond's counsel is not to be disregarded in this matter."
"What of Legolas, our friend and the ninth of our number, my Lady?" Gimli asked her, his tone altogether respectful but laced with concern.
Galadriel's fair, sad gaze came to rest on the Dwarf. "The fields of Isengard are well-held by the forces of darkness, Gimli son of Gloin, and the Tower of Orthanc is unassailable. There is not enough strength even in Lórien to combat Saruman in his own realm. Such an attempt would require the unified might of the three great Elven strongholds and would be long in preparation, if it were possible at all."
"It rends my heart to say what I must," Aragorn said sadly, "but the Quest cannot wait. The Ring must be destroyed with all haste."
Lelemir's gaze grew cold and hard. "What of Legolas? Is he to be left to the mercies of Saruman and his Abominations?" she asked.
"I did not and would not suggest that, my Lady," Aragorn replied. "But what I say is true. The Ring must go on without Legolas."
Hithílion was seated next to Lelemir, and he narrowed his eyes in anger. "I will not abandon the youngest child of my king to suffer torment at the hands of the traitor," he said sharply.
"Aragorn is not abandoning Legolas! None of us would do so!" Boromir said then. He had become incensed at the Elf's tone. "But the Ring cannot simply lie in one place waiting for its Master to come and claim it!"
"Do you dare accuse me of wishing victory for the Dark One?" Hithilion snapped. "I assure you that I do not. However, my first priority as Thranduil's representative here is to ensure that the Prince is returned alive to his father."
"And I would not deny any father that happiness," Aragorn said calmly. "But I too have a priority, and that is to make certain that the One Ring is annihilated before its Master can use it to bring a second darkness on Middle-earth."
"Aragorn is right," Frodo said quietly.
Silence fell over the chamber, and all those in attendance looked to the small hobbit tucked away among his fellows. Frodo swallowed, trying to blink back the tears welling up in his eyes. His voice sounded high-pitched and strained in his own ears. "Aragorn is right. The Ring must go on. I must go on." He sighed shakingly. "Even if I must do so without my friend Legolas."
Galadriel's face was sad and understanding. "It is for the Ringbearer to decide, and chosen he has. Who will go hence with Frodo Baggins to the land of Mordor?"
Aragorn stood. "I will continue in my service to Frodo," he said, nodding to the hobbit.
Almost at the same time, Sam jumped to his feet and cried, "I will! I will go on with Mr. Frodo, just like you said, Mr. Gandalf!" Gandalf just smiled.
Merry and Pippin were quick to renew their pledge of faithfulness, each talking over the other and stumbling over their words. Boromir stood with Aragorn and restated his allegiance. Frodo managed a trembling smile for them all, though his heart remained heavy. He kept his gaze on Gandalf, and was dismayed when the wizard did not rise to join the others. He wanted to inquire as to why, but he could not find the words.
"And you, Gimli son of Glóin?" Lord Celeborn asked. "Will you not also rejoin your companions in this Quest?"
Gimli stood then and bowed to the Lord and Lady. "My Lord, my Lady, councilors and friends, I am torn between two desires. My heart yearns to remain with the Elves of Lórien and seek a method of rescue for my dear friend Legolas. But my duty requires me to carry on with the Quest on which I embarked and swore to uphold. In truth, I do not know what I shall do."
Galadriel dipped her head in acknowledgement. "A difficult choice you must make, and soon, son of Glóin. I can give no counsel, for such is not my place."
"Nor will I advise you, for though wise I may be, even I cannot see all ends," Celeborn said.
Suddenly Lelemir rose to her feet, her hair shimmering in the soft light. "If I may, I should like to speak for a brief moment ere anything more is decided," she said.
"Speak then, daughter of Thranduil," Galadriel said.
"The steadfast loyalty of Gimli the Dwarf moves me to action that I did not at first intend," the Elf princess said with a strange look. "My heart's wish is to linger for as long as is necessary to secure my brother's release from Isengard. Yet I feel an appeal much stronger in my spirit, one that I cannot discount. Legolas determined his course for the greater good of all; I can do no less." She turned a serious gaze to Aragorn, then to Frodo. "If it is permitted, I shall be honored to continue in the Quest in my brother's stead."
Hithílion arose with an exclamation of surprise. He spoke a swift, vehement Elven phrase to Lelemir. The princess flicked her imperious glare up to meet Hithílion's. She replied in her own tongue, and her voice was icy and resolute. Hithílion stiffened at her answer, and his fair face tightened with anger and worry.
Lelemir's gaze softened then, and she offered a quiet smile. "My father will see the necessity," she said, speaking in Westron. "He will not be pleased, and for that I am regretful, but he will come to understand. Fear not for me, Hithílion." When he did not reply, she spoke once more in their native dialect.
Hithílion's visage was troubled, but he gave a sigh and nodded, retaking his seat. He clasped his hands in his lap and did not look up again.
Lelemir turned once more to Aragorn. "What say you, Aragorn son of Arathorn?"
"I should be glad to have the companionship of Legolas' farseeing kin," Aragorn said. "However, the choice remains with Frodo."
"I would be happy to have you alongside me, Princess," Frodo said sincerely. He had been amazed at her request, and not at all opposed to it. He glanced once more at Gandalf and wondered all the more why the wizard spoke not.
Lord Celeborn gave Lelemir a slow, measured nod of acceptance. "Very well, Princess of Mirkwood. You shall go together with the Ringbearer and his companions to Mordor. There are now only two places that remain to be filled, and the Company shall once more be complete."
Frodo could contain himself no longer. "Gandalf! Will you not go with me?" he cried.
Gandalf gave the hobbit a sad, kindly smile. "No, Frodo, I will not. Do you not remember what I said when I gave over leadership of the Company to Aragorn? I must attend to other matters when I leave this Wood, and those matters will not cross your path."
Frodo closed his mouth in shock. He had heard the words then, but he had not comprehended them. Gandalf would not continue on with the Fellowship. Frodo badly wanted to ask what matters were to keep the wizard from accompanying him, but he could not bring himself to speak again.
"I shall agree to go on with the Fellowship if no others speak out," Gimli said, "but I believe I rather yearn to tarry here for Legolas' sake. Forgive me this weakness, young Master Hobbit."
Frodo gave the Dwarf a feeble smile. "I understand, Gimli, and it is no weakness to harbor such fear for a dear friend. I do not hold this against you."
"I will go," said a resonant voice from beside Aragorn. Alcarin of Rivendell stepped forward, towering above the rest. "If the Ringbearer will give his consent, then I will go with him to Mordor as well."
"He could probably fight the entire Orc army and win, you know," Sam whispered, nudging Frodo in the ribs.
Frodo noticed Alcarin's faint expression of amusement and realized that every sharp-eared Elf in the chamber had likely heard Sam's comment. "I would be glad if you would come also, Lord Alcarin," he said, blushing slightly in embarrassment. The dark-haired Elf gave a single nod and stepped back.
"Then I shall stay with the Elves of Lórien, if it is permitted," Gimli said.
"It is indeed, Master Dwarf," Lord Celeborn told him. "Long shall it be remembered among my people that the son of Glóin showed such faithfulness to his friend, the son of Thranduil." The Elf lord looked out at the eight chosen to continue, and he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Then it is done. The Renewed Fellowship of the Ring's number shall be eight, and not nine as before. You shall depart from the Wood when the Daystar rises tomorrow morn. Rest and ease yourselves this one last night, for your path remains long and treacherous ahead of you. But do not despair! The Lady of the Stars is ever-watchful, and she does not abandon those who oppose the darkness. Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya." May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky.
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End of Chapter Eight. Francine is well-pleased with the progress we are making. We have plotted out the course of events in our re-write of the Trilogy, and it promises to be a doozy. We swear it will be logical and will not include any lame plot trips!
Thanks for reading! Review! :)
