Disclaimers: If songfics were allowed, I would write a fabulous filk-disclaimer to the tune of "If I Only Had A Brain", with an accompanying dance routine and strobe lights— but, alas, the system is against me.
A/n: Aw, I love you guys! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. :-)
And onward… to Chapter Two! (insert appropriately dramatic brass fanfare with accompanying percussion that prominently features clashing cymbals)
Attendees found their way to Faramir's terrace one by one— assorted Gondorian lords, including Imrahil of Dol Amroth; Faramir's brother-in-law, Éomer: Haldir of Lórien, whose current state of mortality no one was quite sure about; and finally Elladan and Elrohir, who heralded their arrival with a series of highly juvenile pranks involving whoopee cushions and rubber snakes that was somewhat difficult to reconcile with their sober upbringing and former quest for revenge, but which went largely unquestioned.
And then there was an utterly unexpected appearance.
"Mithrandir!" gasped Faramir.
"That's Gandalf the Green to you," said the Wizard moodily, swirling his jade-colored cloak irritably. "I wish that Middle-earth would learn to take care of itself, for once, so that I don't have to keep being sent back!"
"Oh, don't be such a sour grape—Alright, alright, settle down now!" barked Aragorn over the heads of the milling, iced-tea guzzling crowd. "Elladan, Elrohir, stop flicking bogies at Haldir, please."
"You were always such a boss, little brother," ribbed Elrohir as they took their seats. Aragorn ignored him, and took his own place on Faramir's largest deck chair. He surveyed the gathering of Elves, Men, Dwarves, Hobbits, and Wizards, all of whom were sitting in a silent circle, waiting for him to speak—all except Pippin, that is, who was in a stupor beneath his chair, having drunk the entirety of Legolas's Dorwinion while no one was looking. Aragorn chose to ignore him as well.
He cleared his throat. "Strangers from distant lands ... well, no, none of you are strangers actually…. Ahem! Friends of old… er, actually, very few of you are actually my friends, though you probably didn't know that—my, that was a bit of a faux pas, wasn't it? Ah well… People of Middle Earth! No, that doesn't work either; Wizards aren't from Middle-earth…"
"Skip the introduction," muttered Faramir.
"Right, then! You have been summoned here to…"
He was interrupted again, but this time Faramir was not the culprit. A low rumbling sound was resonating somewhere from beneath the earth; a shadow had fallen over the terrace, and a chill wind whistled through the garden, high-pitched and eerie…
"Gandalf!" cried Legolas. "Have you been saying things in Black Speech again?"
"Alas, no," replied Gandalf, "though I may have cursed in every other known tongue during that little speech of Aragorn's…"
The rumbling continued unabated; an icy mist was spreading over the patio, curling amorphous arms around feet and chair legs, building into a column of smoke in the back corner, which gradually began to form itself into a strange shape, a gray translucent shape, a humanoid shape that looked rather uncannily like…
"Is that…?" began Merry.
The shape turned around and beamed. "Hello, everyone! Miss me?"
Faramir leapt to his feet and hobbled across the patio. "Boromir!" They rushed toward each other, arms outstretched, which resulted in Faramir careening right through Boromir's lucent torso and collapsing into the forsythias. Boromir made a few futile attempts to help his brother to his feet and then threw up his hands in exasperation. "This disembodiment thing will take some getting used to…" he said apologetically as Faramir staggered back onto the terrace. "Why is your foot jammed inside a glass of iced tea?"
"Long story…"
"Not that it isn't nice to see you and everything, Boromir," interrupted Aragorn. "But what exactly are you doing here?"
"The Dead need a representative at this council, don't they?" said the dearly departed Gondorian. "And the King of the Dead wasn't feeling quite up to the job… he's had ectoplasmic kidney stones or something equally odd…" He tried to sit in a chair, sank through it, and settled for hovering in midair between Faramir and Legolas. "Sorry I'm so late, anyway… where were we?"
"We were about to begin," said Gandalf coldly. "Would you mind dispelling all this mist?"
"Oh, right." With a wave of his semi-transparent hand, the creeping chill and ghostly miasma disintegrated, and the sun burst out from behind the clouds once more. "I apologize about the whole entrance… the fog and such is a regrettable but unavoidable byproduct…"
Faramir, who knew his brother too well, didn't believe this for an instant, but chose not to say anything.
"Ahem," said Aragorn. "May we continue?"
"Oh, don't mind me," said Boromir's ghost with a cherubic smile before muttering, "You certainly didn't at the last council."
As it turned out, there was one stranger at the Council—a hunched, timorous, gray-whiskered man who had come with Gandalf and then proceeded to hide behind him throughout most of the introduction. He called himself Alatar, and proved to be one of the five Istar, one of the two Blue Wizards who had come from the West and then proceeded to drop off the face of Arda.
"Actually, I went into the East and did geological field research. Mordor is a veritable wellspring of igneous rock formations," he said, his timidity falling away as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet with near-palpable enthusiasm. "And it is on that subject that I have come to speak today."
"You've come to tell us about rocks?" said Merry blankly. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything, young Master Hobbit," said Alatar. "In the duration of the Age during which I have studied, I have learned many things about the nature of matter. And one of these things is that matter cannot be created or destroyed. While collecting samples amidst the wreckage of Mount Doom, I discovered and painstakingly collected the molten fragments of none other than the Ring of Power."
Everyone stared at him blankly.
"The Ring was destroyed," said Éomer presently.
The Blue Wizard's eyes blazed emphatically. "No! Matter cannot be destroyed! Divided, changed, altered, yes, but never destroyed! The One Ring continues to exist! Fragmented, yes, but it exists all the same! And being made of gold, which, as everyone knows, is one of the elements, it therefore cannot be broken down by ordinary chemical means!"
"So you're saying that the One Ring is still a potential danger? It continues to exist?" gasped Faramir.
"Yes. I have it right here in this Petri dish!" With a dramatic flourish, Alatar produced a flat circular container from the folds of his cerulean robes and set it down on the deck table. The Council regarded it with awe.
"Sauron's spirit, like the Ring, is changed and divided," said the Wizard. "But it continues to exist. And if the Ring were to be reforged…"
"… then Sauron would return," finished Gandalf grimly.
"Our course is plain," said Aragorn. "The Ring must be destroyed!"
"I told you, matter cannot be created or destroyed!" cried Alatar. "Such a thing goes against the fundamental nature of the universe!"
"Well, then what are we supposed to do with it?" cried Legolas.
Boromir, meanwhile, had levitated over to the table thoughtfully. "It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor! Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy; let us use it against him!"
Aragorn leapt to his feet. "You cannot wield it! None of us can!"
"Well, obviously I can't; I can't wield so much as a pair of pinking shears in my current state—and thanks for rubbing it in, by the way," added Boromir mordantly. "But how do you know that you couldn't wield it; or Faramir? Have you ever tried?"
Aragorn paused, and realized that he had never even considered this. However, he wasn't about to admit this aloud. "Of course I've tried, you nitwit, I wouldn't say so otherwise."
"When?"
"Uh… right before you showed up at the Council of Elrond! We had a Ring-wielding session, and guess what? None of us could do it!"
Boromir rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. Right."
"It's true! Just ask Legolas!"
Legolas appeared dazed. "This is no mere Ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn! You owe him your allegiance! And heir to the throne of Gondor! Have you heard nothing that Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed! THE RING MUST BE DESTROYED!"
"Uh, Legolas…?"
Alatar, meanwhile, bristled with rage. "I told you, matter cannot be created or des…"
"Just watch!" cried Gimli, and brought his axe crashing down on the Petri dish, imbedding itself deep in the table. Shards of glass and sediment flew in all directions.
"You (censored) bastard! Do you have any idea how long it took me to collect that!" screeched the Blue Wizard.
"You (censored) bastard! You just put an axe through my table!" cried Faramir. "Éowyn's going to break my other arm next!"
"I think I'd be a bit more concerned about the fact that you've now got the One Ring sprinkled throughout your garden, little brother," remarked Boromir.
The Steward's eyes widened. "Oh, Eru, you're right! Supposing it kills off the begonias or something? She'll have a fit!"
"That wasn't exactly what I…" began Boromir.
"Hors d'oeuvres, anyone?" said the Lady in question, appearing at Faramir's elbow.
He yelped and whirled around, and then sidestepped to conveniently block the table from view. "Éowyn!" he said cheerily, taking the tray. "How thoughtful of you! I'll pass these around…"
As soon as she was safely indoors, Faramir sniffed the tray, pulled a face, and dumped the contents into the shrubbery. "Éowyn's cooking tends to enrich the manure," he explained.
"If we could return to the topic at hand…" began Gandalf.
"Yes, indeed," said Aragorn. "Everybody sit down and shut up, lest I be forced to follow the example of my foster father and do strange eyebrow exercises and copiously overuse the word 'doom' until you all are confused into submission."
Everyone sat down, with the exception of Boromir, who instead levitated in a sitting position, a technicality that went unquestioned by all present.
"Now," said Aragorn, "because we are living in a democratic system, under which the right of free speech is protected, in order to ensure that the voice of the common man does not go unheard…"
"We're a monarchy, actually, Aragorn," said Faramir.
"Oh." The King paused. "Well, never mind that— at all events, I wish to hear everyone's ideas on the subject, and I wish to hear them in an orderly fashion, because I know from personal experience that when these sorts of things become chaotic and out of control people tend to get angry and shout and gesticulate a lot and speak in foreign languages and offer around weapons and make promises of allegiance that they seriously regret within the next two hours."
He paused. The Council gazed at him expectantly.
"To ensure that this does not occur," Aragorn continued presently, I have decided upon…" Another pause. "A game."
A/n: Enraged? Amused? Perplexed? Disturbed? Drop me a review and I promise to reply henceforth!