Chapter 3
Strangers from Distant Planets
"Q," Wesley whined, trying to ignore the pesky entity like a bad dream. "Go away!"
"Ouch! That hurt!" Q howled mockingly.
"Would you shut up!? People are trying to sleep here," Wesley reprimanded him. Q put on a pathetic "sad puppy face."
"If the pathetic primates can't stand an entity, it's just so sad."
"Q, there's a council that I have to get up for in the morning, so, please, leave me alone." Q got a mischievous look in his eyes. Then he sweetened up.
"Goodnight, then, Wesley. I'll see you in the morning," he sang as the human drifted off into a deep slumber.
"Good morning, my lad," Wesley awoke to Bilbo's kind voice, which was a nice change from the normal ringing of his alarm clock. For this Wesley was grateful, this place seemed so different from his normal environment, and Bilbo's nice friendly voice, was a gentle reminder of that fact.
"I suppose you will be needing some clothes," Bilbo observed, handing the human a shirt and pants. The shirt was green and silky, while the pants were a dark brown color of the same texture. "I got the outfit from the Dunedan, so it might be a bit large on you, but it's the best that could be managed," Bilbo turned away from Wesley as he changed into his new attire.
"Thank you," he said, coming up to Bilbo's side. The shorter creature smiled.
"We'd best be off to the courtyard," he advised. He and Wesley left the room side by side. As they descended a staircase, they were joined by another person of Bilbo's height. He had dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was apparently a great deal younger than Bilbo, but something in this fellow told Wesley that he wasn't as young and innocent as he looked.
"Frodo, my lad, I would like you to meet Wesley Crusher, who has just arrived in Rivendell. Wesley, this is my heir, Frodo Baggins."
"It's nice to meet you," Wesley greeted him.
"Likewise," Frodo replied, smiling. "Where have you journeyed from?"
"A very distant land," Wesley answered. "I came with a friend, but he seems to have disappeared. What about you?" Frodo hesitated a second, but a nod from Bilbo urged him on.
"Bilbo and I are from the Shire, which is far in the West. It's a long journey from there to Rivendell." As he spoke, the trio entered into the bright morning of Imladris. The sun seemed to sparkle off the trees as lights on water or snow. The sky was golden-pink, giving the appearance of midmorning to the whole court. In a circle were many finely furnished wooden chairs. Elrond, the person Wesley had seen last night, was present, as were a few others: A tall, blonde-haired fellow with dark blue eyes, a raggedly man dressed in silver and black, and a man in a grey cloak with a beard that came down to his chest. Frodo took a seat beside the latter and Bilbo, next to his, gestured for Wesley to follow. Moments later, a weather-worn man appeared, and after him came many others, of all sizes and appearances. Soon everyone was seated and Wesley was wishing everyone had name tags.
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands . . ."
" . . . on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall." Wesley heard a mimicking voice coming from up above. Lord Elrond tried to continue, but was rudely interrupted.
"Look at the optimism. You think these people can unite?! They hate each other. They're only pretending to listen to you to be polite. If you asked them what you just said, half of them would be incapable of telling you. Face it: you're doomed." Q laughed. A few seats away, Wesley Crusher sighed. What a first impression!
"Silence, you!" the man beside Frodo commanded, rising from his seat. To Wesley's astonishment, Q obeyed. "You were saying, Master Elrond."
"Thank you, Gandalf," Elrond sighed appreciatively. Then he continued, "Each ace is bound to this fate, this one doom." He paused a moment to let the gravity of the situation sink into the assembly. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo," Elrond seemed to go off on a tangent, at least to Wesley. He glanced at Bilbo who could tell his friend was confused.
"I won that ring from a nasty creature called Gollum. It's a magical ring, very powerful. I'll tell you the whole tale some time," he whispered as Frodo placed the shiny, golden ring on the table at the center of the gathering.
"So it is true,"whispered the weather-worn man sitting about a quarter turn from Wesley.
"Oh, the doubtfulness. Uniquely human!" Q remarked. Gandalf shot him a glare and he immediately shut up.
"In a dream, I heard a voice say: Seek for the sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells. There shall be councils taken, stronger than Morgul spells. There shall be shown a token that doom is near at hand, for Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand." Q disappeared and reappeared beside the weather worn man, Boromir.
"Let's do a checklist, shall we? Number one: the sword that was broken. He's got it," Q gestured across the circle to the man dressed in black and silver.
"A Ranger?" Boromir questioned doubtfully.
"This is no mere Ranger," the tall, blonde-haired one cried out. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
"You have a king! Aren't you thrilled, Boromir? So much for you ever becoming the steward," Q teased. He had been hoping the Gondorian would growl, but he did no such thing.
"This is serious, Q, and you are distracting us from our purpose. Be gone with you!" Gandalf yelled, losing his patience.
"Well, there's only one problem with that request, Gandalf," Q meekly said. "I can't get out of Middle Earth."
