DISCLAIMER:
A few lines were taken from the book, just to try and keep it authentic while making it original. Hope you don't mind too much. No copyright infringement intended. See chapter six for details.
Series:
None.
Spoilers:
See chapter one
A/N: Marissa: Sealbeth is a character who was supposedly in the movie. To be lazy and prevent myself from making up a character, I choose his name for my character. Much about Hantor is explained in the latter part of this chapter. Basically he was related to Aragorn and that's why he was at the Council. And as for his archery…you'll see. :-)
Estel Kenobi: LOL, I've already decided…but I can't tell you…but you guys can guess! :-D
TO EVERYONE: Thank you for taking the time to review and say such nice things about my stuff. It makes my day!
And now, on to the show!
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Three Rings for the Elven-Kings
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Chapter Seven
The Hall of Fire
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Legolas sat near the hearth in the Hall of Fire with his head bent, eyes closed and face weary. Across from him sat Gandalf and Elrond, who watched the elf-prince closely. In the corner Sealbeth and Endara sat together, Endara mending his quiver and Sealbeth re-fletching one of his arrows. The two had known each other since childhood, though they had been long apart, and were talking swiftly and softly in the Gray-Elf tongue.* Aragorn was talking with Gimshe and Hantor, and Gimli was sharpening his axe with rhythmic swish, swish, swish sounds. Boromir sipped a drink and listened to the others talk.
At last Elrond spoke, his dark gray eyes glimmering in the dusk. "There are things you all must know before you set out," he said in a low voice. "Things I had not wished discussed in front of the other Council members."
Endara looked up. "Yes, my Lord. I would like to know why Gandalf did not meet us at the appointed area, just past Mirkwood. We waited until the Riders came, and then we could wait no longer."
Gandalf's face was grave. "That is another, very long story, Endara son of Enthelon. But the story that should be told first is how the Ring came into Prince Legolas' possession."
Sealbeth frowned. "That is a good question, Gandalf. I have often wondered it myself. How did you find a Ring of Power, Legolas, and of all Rings this one?"
Legolas opened his eyes slowly, as though wakening from some long, deep sleep. He took a deep breath and raised his head, looking round at his companions. He hesitated and then in the practiced voice of a story-teller began to weave his tale.
* * * *
It all started about sixty human years ago, when the Battle of the Five Armies caused us to take up arms against the foes of all free folk, he began.
"After wrongfully accusing my father and his companions of being thieves, and imprisoning them in your dungeons!" Gimli snarled.
"Hush, Gimli," said Gandalf. "That was an unfortunate wrong long set right. Let it pass."
Legolas continued.
I was to lead one of the legions, my father the other, my youngest brother the third. A shadow of pain crossed his face. My brother was killed in the battle, though my father and I remained unharmed. I think I was in shock from my brother's death. I was in a rage—I followed the last of the goblins by myself, a foolish thing to do. I was blind to danger and did not see the orc archer hidden above the rock out-cropping as I ran down a narrow path in search of vengeance.
I heard the twang of a bowstring and flung myself to one side. The arrow clipped my shoulder, spinning me around. I stepped back too far and tumbled down a long steep fall.
I must have hit my head on the way down, for the next thing I remember I was lying on the ground staring at the eagles wheeling high above. I shook myself out of my daze and rolled over.
I don't remember much else. I was so stunned I could barely move. I had to be carried back to the Hall of Greenwood. I only remember bits and pieces, the face of my father and once, I thought, the face of my brother.
But there was another picture in my mind that remained painfully clear. It was night time and I was alone in my room with a bandage over one eye. I stood up from my bed and walked into the hall. I saw a shadow at the end of the corridor and ran towards it, I did not know why. When I reached the corner there was no one there, only a golden band at my feet. I picked it up and pocketed it.
When I woke the next morning, it was there and I knew it to be no dream. I kept it, though I often wondered why, in the drawer by my bedside. I never touched it again until the day Gandalf told me it was the One Ring.
* * * *
Here Gandalf spoke up. "I had long wondered how you managed to find that Ring in the middle of your father's palace, Legolas. I think I understand some of it now. Bilbo gave your father a necklace, did he not? I would not be surprised to find that the ring had hidden in the necklace and fallen off. It obviously wanted an elven bearer."
"But why an elf?" Gimli grunted.
"Because unlike most Middle-Earth races, Elves have their own powers to begin with; they do not need a Ring to use what you might call magic." Gandalf's voice was low and grim. "Because of this, any power added to that augments their innate abilities to a daunting level. It is the same with any such creature born with its own power. That is why Sauron can wield the Ring to such destruction. Sauron would be able to wield the bearer of the Ring through it, even possess the body."
Sealbeth shuddered in revulsion. "But unlike most races, we resist such forces of evil best," he pointed out, shooting a look at Gimli.
"I wish that were so," Elrond said sadly. "But often times our own wish for power to use benevolently turns against us. Not surprisingly, dwarves in general resist such powers best—" Gimli and Gimshe shot the elves triumphant looks "—because like the stone they were created from, they resist change. Even so, they have their weaknesses, and it would have been better if the Rings of Power had never been created."
"And here is where my story comes to play," Gandalf said with a sigh. He took out his pipe and lit it, puffed once or twice and leaned back in his chair.
* * * *
I was in the area of Orthanc when I received a summons by Saruman. I had, actually, been traveling to see him. Being the head of my order, and I recently discovering that Legolas held a Ring of strange properties, I decided to investigate. Saruman had studied the Rings of Power; if anyone knew a way to discern one Ring from another, it was him.
When I crossed the threshold I felt a whisper of a chill run down my back and shivered; but passed it off as nothing more than cold autumn air. When I saw Saruman, though, I knew something was amiss.
He wore, instead of white, a cloak that shimmered with all hues of color, giving one a headache that looked upon it long. I looked up at him. "Does Saruman the White dress as the Elves of Lothlórien?" I asked in surprise; yet instantly I knew it not true. The elves weave rock and river, forest and meadow and sky into their clothing. All that was woven into this garment was discord and strife.
"My dear Gandalf the Gray," he purred without answering. "How fortunate you were able to come quickly. I have urgent news for you."
"As do I," I said. "I believe I have found a Ring of Power."
"Truly? Where does this Ring lie?"
I felt an instant shade of unease. "I am not sure. Somewhere in the north there was a rumor of a golden band that caused invisibility when worn."
"I make a study of such things," he said, eyes glimmering. "Pray, tell me where you heard these rumors."
"I could not say," I said carefully, "these rumors have circulated for some time now."
"I see." His eyes grew cold. "There is indeed a ring of such, Gandalf. Though it is perilous for any but you and me to hear such."
"Oh?" I said, still uneasy. "What about this Ring?"
"I believe it is the One Ring, surfacing again. It's heard its Master's call."
My breath caught. "The One Ring? It cannot be!"
"Truly it can." His eyes glimmered like black coals. "Now, tell me Gandalf, where is it? We must keep it away from Him."
"From who?"
"From Sauron of course."
"Should not we seek to destroy it?"
He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "Impossible. You'd never get by the border of Mordor."
"Nonetheless we must try."
"We will not destroy it!" he shouted, startling me back a step. "It is…precious."
"You would not think to use it?" I gasped. "You know what would happen?"
"We could wield it," he corrected me. He stepped closer, laying a hand on my shoulder. I could feel him trembling with excitement. "And why not?" he whispered. "Why should we not wield it, we from the Undying Lands? We have the power and the skill to wield it—let us use it!"
"Saruman," I said, stepping back. "You know as well as I that it can only be wielded by one at a time, so do not bother to say 'we'. Using it is folly. We would simply dethrone one Dark Lord and hold a coronation for the next."
His face was openly hostile now. "Will you aid me?"
"No."
"I give you one last, painless chance, Gandalf."
"No."
He clapped his hands twice and his servants appeared. "Maybe when the coronation is over, we will have to see what to do with old meddlers with gray beards," he snarled.
"Maybe you will be too busy for that," I answered. He laughed, for my words held no threat, and he knew it.
* * * *
For a long while I was in despair, for I was imprisoned at the top of Orthanc tower. I watched as the beautiful and ancient trees were chopped down by Orcs to burn. Some trees were cut down and left to rot. I knew of no way to warn Legolas in time.
Luck was with me, though. Gwahir, a lord of the Great Eagles, was about searching for me with a message from Galadriel. He found me at the top of Orthanc tower. "Hail friend!" I called.
"Hail, Gandalf the Gray!" he answered. "Why do you stand as a prisoner at the top of this tower?"
"I have been betrayed. You must take me as swiftly as possible to Rohan. I must get a horse and ride to Mirkwood at once."
"I will do as you ask of me," Gwahir responded, and let me climb on his back. Before Saruman knew what had been done, we were across the Misty Mountains heading for Rohan.
The rest you know. By the time I escaped and came to the forest, you two were gone. I tracked you and the Nazgûl for six days before reaching Rivendell only a few hours after you.
* * * *
"And know, it grows late," Gandalf finished. "We leave tomorrow at evenings fall. I suggest you all get some rest."
Boromir shook himself awake; he'd dozed off. He nodded politely to the others as he left. Endara stood, the quiver mended neatly without even a seam to show where the tear had been. "My lord?" he said to Legolas. Legolas smiled and stood, following slowly from the room, as though in great pain.
"Is the prince hurt?" Hantor asked.
"The wound aches," Elrond said simply.
"It will never fully heal," Gandalf added. "Its burden will remain with him until the end of his life."
Sealbeth turned to the young human; no more than twenty-eight, Hantor had a bit of a boyish face still with wide brown eyes and a flop of brown hair to mark him as Aragorn's kinsman. He'd studied archery with the Elves of Mirkwood, and could, much to their surprise and dismay, now outshoot his teachers. His archery was bested by none, and was the only reason Aragorn had allowed so young a man to come.
"You are too young to understand how old wounds ache." The elf spoke a bit haughtily, though the words had not been meant that way. "One day you will know what it is to have an old injury plague you." The elf walked from the room without a second word.
"He broke his shoulder at a very young age," Aragorn said into the dark silence. "It still plagues him; it's why he had to give up arrows for swords." Hantor nodded but said nothing. Gimli finished with his axe and stood up.
"I'm off to a sleep," he growled to no one, and tromped off, followed by Gimshe. Aragorn chuckled. "Two of a kind those two…I cannot wait to see the outcome of the campfire 'discussions' between them and Sealbeth. Endara is rather fond of dwarves, surprisingly, and Legolas puts up with them, but Sealbeth cannot stand anything about them."
"It's a wonder he joined," Hantor joked lightly, and left the room.
"Good night, Aragorn." Elrond's voice carried through the room as Aragorn stepped through the door. The Ranger paused and looked back with a slight smile on his face. He bowed his head respectfully. "Good night, Master Elrond, Gandalf."
"Good night." Gandalf's voice rumbled in his chest like thunder.
It was a while before either spoke. Gandalf puffed on his pipe, changing the smoke rings color for his amusement. Elrond read an old script by firelight. At last Elrond spoke.
"Sealbeth didn't know about Hantor's accident, did he? Or why Hantor choose bow over sword? Or why the elves trained him?"
"No," Gandalf said. "He did not."
* * * *
Hantor was gray in color as he gently massaged his foot. His door was slightly cracked as Sealbeth walked by, and the young ranger let out a low moan. The elf stopped and backtracked, looking in to see if he was all right. Aragorn was helping him pull his foot out of his boot; Hantor's right foot was horribly mangled and twisted. It had been broken and cut, and had healed badly with the toes curled backwards, preventing natural foot movement. He would never be able to take the blows, or move fast enough to avoid them, that were required in sword play.
The elf thought back to his words about how the human was too know what it was like to have his injuries ache and winced.
Hantor leaned his head briefly against Aragorn's shoulder and groaned again. Aragorn murmured, "Almost there, just a little longer." He finally stopped massaging the foot and helped Hantor to bed.
"It will never heal right, will it?" he asked in a choked tone.
"No." Aragorn's voice was low and caring. "I'm sorry, cousin."
"It wasn't your fault."
"If I had been there…"
"If you had
been there it would have been you instead; and you were always the better
swordsman." His voice was bitter.
Aragorn said nothing in reply
and Sealbeth left before he could hear more.
*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*
*Gray Elf tongue is another word for Silvan elvish (different from Sindarin, used more by the elves from Lothlórien. Sindarin would be more popular in Rivendell and Mirkwood, I believe. Correct me if I'm wrong.)
Well?? What do you think? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I think it was pretty original—it followed the basic plot of the books but it has certain twists coming…:D Tell me if you think I should go wilder and throw caution to the wind and make this less similar to the book…also, what about the tone? Do you like it? Is the story serious enough, close enough to the original type of tone? Do you want more light hearted stuff? (Coming soon, as soon as an elf and a dwarf are seated next to each other, lol.) More grim stuff? More on the characters? Thank you for all your great feedback, I always considering your comments! (Even if you don't like the story I still take it into account.)