Son this chapter needed editing as well. It is now done.
A single clear bell rang as Frances walked briskly over the polished floor. The maid that had escorted her through the numerous glistening halls of Imladris suddenly stopped and turned around to face her:
- "There held the council. Lord Elrond is waiting for you now."
Then she gracefully bowed, and was gone, her cold beauty disappearing from sight rather sooner than later. Petrified, Frances knew exactly what she had to do but could not resolve herself to go forward. She had never been surrounded by such ageless wisdom, and saying that she was intimidated to participate to the council was a euphemism. What could she, mere mortal woman of eighteen years old, change to the fate of this world? It wasn't the first time she ended influencing some events that were I much bigger than her abilities, but this time it felt different. This time she did not feel insignificant compared to the people she gravitated around. This time she felt like a scum of dirt embedded on a rock of the magnificent city. Her experience and capabilities were so small and ridiculous compared to elven skills. Try as she might she could not fathom why they had summoned her. The blue rock may have known, but it unfortunately had never given any advice on his own.
So there she was, hidden behind a few bushes with her light blue flowing gown, hesitating to make the first step and reveal her dullness to the highest beings of this world. However, knowing that elven senses might have detected her by now Frances took a deep breath and kicked herself to go on. Crossing silently the little distance that separated her from the council site, the young lady finally emerged in the open air stone room.
Many eyes fell on her as she advanced in the veiled sunlight. It had been only a few weeks since she had come to meet the elves, and a lot of information had been given for her to swallow from different sources. It was still very unclear to her how the big pictures included this council and the finding of the one ring, and all those new races intimidated her. Knowing that ageless beings were now judging her and her presence in a war meeting was not reassuring either. As her eyes timidly swept over the assistance, she saw many elves whose faces were familiar. Elladan and Elrohir sat between their father and Estel, faces grim, clad in a clean attire that spoke of their status. They certainly could look intimidating when clad in their full regalia; the wink Elrohir sent her way, though, broke his image rather quickly. Frances addressed him a fond look before her eyes noticed the elf Lord Glorfindel beside Estal. Aside from Elrond, he was known to be one of the rare beings that had survived the first age and stayed in middle earth. His age alone could have been enough to crouch at his feet for guidance.
However, it was not the Elf Lord himself that challenged her coming, since he trusted Lord Elrond on many matters; his kind behaving alike. The dwarves, welcomed in the home of elves, did not seem more than surprised to see her appearance, and as she got a few curious glances from them she just smiled back. Familiar grey eyes gazed at her, and Estel nodded in welcome, saluting her last move that would appease tensions between elves and dwarves by a hidden smile. From Frodo and Bilbo only warmth was given to her, and the only hostility that was thrown to her curiously came from a man. The clear look of disdain that he shot the young lady said much on his opinion of women in matters of war, but before he could voice his concerns Lord Elrond saluted her, cutting short the probable banter that he sensed coming between the two representatives of the same race.
- "Be welcomed Frances", he stated without moving.
- "Thank you my lord", she bowed before gracefully taking her place beside Frodo who shot her a look of hope.
It was no secret that he also felt out of place, and finding somebody he knew aside him, albeit not so much, reassured him greatly. The young lady smiled warmly at him, and reported her attention back to the assembly. Already, most of the participants were eyeing Lord Elrond, waiting for him to open the discussions. However, one man was still rudely staring at her, and Frances could not help but stare back at him, trying to discern if the hostility he poured was due to the circumstances of the meeting or really her presence.
- "Here" said Elrond, "is Boromir, a man from the south. He arrived in the morning and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for there his questions will be answered."
This was how the council started, but of Boromir, Elrond said no more, the presentation feeding Frances' curiosity about this strange rusty-haired man. However, the turn of the events distracted her soon enough as Gandalf, Strider and Lord Elrond started discussing the status of many lands she was not familiar with. Her ears wide open, the young lady could not help but drink in everything they said, fascinated by the history of middle earth, and wondering here and there about the past of those people who seemed to be lost to them.
Finally, the oldest dwarf started a long tale about the people of the lonely mountain, and Bilbo stopped squirming in his chair as he listened. Glóin spoke about the unsettling feeling that pushed his nephew, Balin, to get back in the south and conquer again the mines of Moria. He counted how Moria had been deserted because the dwarves' greed has awoken the nameless fear, but of this great foe he did not tell more so that Frances could not understand what monster stood in the darkness, or even if it was a physical being. Truth be told, it took all her might not to screech when she heard that Balin's company had returned there regardless of it, and that the dwarves had lost contact with them. Who was crazy enough to do such a thing? Brave enough ?
The following tale was even more interesting, and Frances learnt more about the seven rings of the dwarves as Glóin told about the dark messenger that came to the lonely moutain. Dain's refusal seemed extremely loyal to Bilbo, and the little hobbit had shiny eyes as he contemplated the friends; they had gone such a long way to warn him about the enemy ! However, the most important thing she learnt in that story was that Sauron considered himself the master of Moria since he had offered to make Glóin master of the mines. Unfortunately, this also meant that Balin had very few chances to be alive still. Once more, however, it seemed that all that interested the dark lord was another ring, and once more the young lady wondered about the sacred jewels, as did the dwarves.
- "The ring! What shall we do with the ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?" finally said the dwarf, using the same words the messenger had stated to lure them. "That is the doom that we must deem."
They did not have to wait long for an answer since Elrond woke up again and said:
- "That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, stranger from distant lands. You have come here and here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so…"
Her head nodding absently, Frances could not agree more to what Elrond said. If he had not summoned any of those, it could not be a coincidence that a representative of each race could gather here, in a place where most of them never came, in this time of great need. Herself did not believe in coincidence either, especially since she always appeared with a perfect timing. The blue rock had summoned her just as well.
As Lord Elrond begun the tale of the ring, Frances found herself transported to the times of their forging in the Second Age long ago. The Lord of Imladris told them of Eregion and of the good relationships between Moria and the elves, and of the elven rings of power. As he told them of the second alliance of men and elves, his eyes turned distant, and it seemed like he described in detail a scene that passed in front of his very eyes. It was a very lively tale, and the young lady shuddered as she imagined the wasted lands and the last battle of Elendil and Gil-Galad against Sauron. It was after Elrond had counted their deaths that Boromir stood and said:
- "So that is what became of the ring! If ever such a tale was told in the south, it has long been forgotten… That is tidings indeed…"
- "Alas, yes!" said Elrond, his face distressed. "Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast into Orodruin's fire night at hand where it was made…"
So the ring could be destroyed by plunging in a volcano. Doing the math quickly, Frances realised that the jewel had probably been forged at an unusually high temperature that scored around twelve thousand degrees or more. None of it was sure deed, but she guessed that it was not worth forging a ring in a volcano if you could do it in a traditional forge, so it probably was a weird metal alloy that needed extremely high temperatures. Getting back to the story, the young woman realised that it was probably no point trying to rationalise this world. She sighed slightly at the thought that maybe there were no scientific explanations to elves and dwarves existence, and her eye caught Glorfindel's gaze for a second. The sword Smith slightly bowed to her, which surprised her, and turned his attention back to Lord Elrond's story.
Then, once the tale wall fully told and nobody had any comments to add, the Lord of the city called Frodo forth. Frances reached for his arm, squeezing once before the hobbit stood on shaking legs. Stunned by her own gall – she usually didn't go touching strangers – Frances was rewarded by a grateful look. Frodo's blue gaze then passed to Bilbo and, upon a nod of the hobbit, walked slowly to the stone pedestal. His hand reached into his pocket, and with a reluctant move he let the ring fall on the grey surface. Frances expected the jewel to roll over, but instead it just landed flat, like it weighed a thousand tons. Nobody noticed when the hobbit got back to his seat, for everyone's eyes were glued to the ring.
The perfect golden colour reflected the timid sunrays that glided over the eclectic gathering. Amidst from his unusual size, there was something unnatural in the flawless shape of the jewel. After being instructed about the great wars it had caused, Frances was contemplating for the first time the most powerful weapon of evil. The mere thought that such a tiny thing could ruin the life of thousands and corrupt the kindest hearts was ridiculous, but a quick observation around the stone stage convinced her that everything was possible. Frodo's face was tense, his expression twisted in a painful grimace. As she swept her eyes across the participants, she realised that the hobbit wasn't the only one affected by the ring. From angst to envy, all the nuances could be read on the faces of the different races, even on the usual flawless features of the elves. Elladan and Elrohir were fully engrossed in the jewel, oblivious to the world. Lifting an eyebrow in disbelief, the young woman concentrated her thoughts on the ring and closed her eyes for good measure, but still she could feel nothing more than the fresh air from the mountains and the weak sunrays warming up the back of her head.
Several comments were ushered but the young lady did not falter from her meditation, her eyes wide open again in an attempt to look interested in the events. After a while of nothingness, she finally heard it amongst the voices of others. It was a faint hissing, nearly unnoticeable especially since the words were in an unknown language. However, surprisingly enough, the inner meaning of this whispering was crystal clear. With this ring at her finger, Frances would become powerful beyond understanding and protect her friends, fighting evil like no one would, and be revered like a true hero. Never again would she have to look into the face of a dying friend, see the blood pooling from their wounds. Helpless… never again ! The pull was intense, and for an instant her feet nearly took off on their own, crushing her resolve on the way. There was nothing she wanted more than helping people while keeping her loved ones safe; the ring had struck a sensitive chord.
However, none of those proposals broke the strength of her resolve. Warning bells echoed loudly in her head. Was this power worth dooming a world so beautiful for such uncontrollable power ? Her very love for the incredible city of Imladris was pouring out of her soul. As she would understand much later, the elves' beauty and kindness that had surrounded her since her arrival were the reasons she was first saved from the ring's influence. Her capacity to impregnate and merge into emotional ambiance had created deep love that would not be dislodged by a promise of power. The simple gift of empathy showed once more its strengh.
Deep down, the young woman also realised that taking this ring would be against all her principles. After her years in the service of her country, Frances held in high praise the results of hard work and she knew that time was sometimes needed to gain control. She remembered the path she had followed before being allowed to carry a weapon, and the wisdom she had gained by waiting. Today, she knew for sure that she would not misuse her hand gun, but three years ago that was less than sure. Learning from the frustration, the young woman had realised that it took time to get ready for more power, no matter how insignificant the difference was. For those reasons, thinking about the ring was nearly frightening, and she realised that only beings older than earth might confer the capacity to wield it. She did not want to be one of the owners; she did not possess the wisdom required for this.
Her decision made, the hissing started to fade and she felt like a fool for pushing away this opportunity. A little voice in the back of her mind tempted to reason with the frustration, but her temper started to rise. However, the anger did not have the expected effect since Frances scowled herself down from being so weak, and managed to shut down any thought about using the ring by keeping the envy at bay. She was who she was, no more and no less, and her intuition and courage had always been her strongest allies. It was no use wishing she was better unless she was willing to train for that. The countless hours in her sword master's company came back to her and she smiled. It had been worth it, and would have had no value were it given to her without effort. Trusting in her judgement seemed the only way to shut the radiating power off her thoughts. Dismissing the signal as irrelevant, like when choosing to ignore pain or hunger, Frances turned off the envy receptors and came back to reality. The discussion at hand could well decide of the fate of this world, and on the same occasion reveal the very reasons why she had been transported to middle-earth.
As she lifted her eyes to the little community, Frances realised that nearly no time had passed, and most of the guests were still staring at the ring in awe or horror. The central blond elf, however, was not gazing at the jewel, but his deep blue eyes were fixed on her instead. During a few seconds his features stayed motionless as he bore holes into her, probably deciphering her thoughts. It seems like he could see right through her, and although that made her uncomfortable Frances refused to lower her own gaze. There was nothing for her to hide, and her deep chocolate eyes sent him back such sincerity that Legolas would have staggered back where he not seated. It was like she offered her soul for inspection, opening the very core of her spirit for him to judge, and the elf felt like he was prying. However, what he saw in her eyes was so pure that he could not help but smile. Seeing the imperceptible movement of his perfect face, the young woman gave him a timid smile, but the exchange was soon interrupted by the steward's son.
As Boromir's face finally lightened up, he spoke those words:
- "It is a gift ... a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay ... by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy ... let us use it against him!"
As the man stood up to emphasis his point, a deep soft voice tried to bring him, back to reality:
- "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The one ring answers to Sauron alone ... it has no other master."
Those words found their mark in Frances' mind, confirming what she had previously concluded. Such an amount of power un-mastered could bring catastrophic results, but the son of Gondor refused to see it that way. As his face contorted in disdain, the young woman realised that the ring must be pulling at his strings to taunt him. Which were they ? Pride, or sorrow for his own people ? The steward's son turned his arrogant face to Strider and said:
- "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"
The silence that followed was short. Nonetheless the man did not react to this insult, merely reflecting his pity for Boromir in his ageless grey eyes. However, one of the council members did not accept this rebuke so easily, and Frances watched with wide eyes the angry statement of the central wood elf, the one who has smiled at her, as he stood up sharply:
- "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance"
Gasping in surprise, Frances turned a questioning look to the ranger. As everything clicked into place, a small smile spread on her lips. He had told her of his family, the Dunedain and the line of Elros, but her knowledge of middle earth was not extended enough yet, and she had not made the connection between Isildur and the current situation at hand. The implications for Gondor were huge. Frodo looked stunned, but somewhere in his eyes reflected the same relief as Frances. It all made sense to him, because he too had seen something more in the ranger's ways.
This revelation, however, was not to Boromir's liking, and she could understand his reasons. The steward's house had probably been working hard to maintain Gondor's integrity, and the appearance of a dead line king was not good news to their house.
- "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"
- "And heir to the throne of Gondor", added the elf, shaking with anger.
Before the confrontation turned bitter, the new called Aragorn – another name to add to his long list - turned to his elvish friend in an attempt to pacify the exchange.
- "Havo dad, Legolas", said his soothing voice.
His face reflecting a bit of confusion, the elf eyed the heir of Gondor for a second and finally nodded while sitting down. Frances had heard enough of elvish to know what the order meant, but it surprised her that the wood elf had relented. Furious as he seemed, there was a deeper understanding between the two warriors than met the eye. Cut down in her reflexion by an angry line from the steward stated that Gondor needed no King; she gazed at the man as he regained his seating. It was not the first time that she saw him this morning, but the pride that had tainted his bearing when she had crossed his path had now turned to arrogance and hostility. It was amazing how his face had transfigured, and Frances wondered if this was linked to his loyalty to the land of Gondor, or rather to the influence of the ring. Perhaps it was a combination of both, but whatever the reason she felt a pang of uneasiness to share the council with someone enslaved by his feelings. It was so weakly human to react by anger and bitterness that it seemed very out of place in this enchanting city.
- "Aragorn is right", finally stated Gandalf, using the heir's name fully now that it had been disclosed. "We cannot use it".
- "You have only one choice", added Lord Elrond, focusing everybody's attention. The ring must be destroyed
The revelation made sense, at least to most of the people sitting across the stone room. The dwarf named Gimli even stood up, and his roaring surprised Frances who jumped in surprise:
- "Then ... what are we waiting for?", he cried, rushing forward.
Swinging his axe in a mighty blow, the dwarf crushed his oversized weapon over the ring in an attempt to reduce it to powder. Astonished by this rash decision, Frances watched with wide eyes the axe shatter with a deafening crack. As the dwarf was projected backwards, she could not help but marvel at how little power the jewels held over that stout being. None of them had dared approaching it, even less touching it so the bold move from the dwarf demonstrated an incredible self-control, and a little bit of stupidity.
After the shock had passed, Glorfindel suggested that maybe the elvish rings of power could protect the one, but as Lord Elrond refused, the name of Saruman the wise was spoken. The tension in the wizard's shoulders increased suddenly, and the next hour or so was spent hearing the tale of Saruman's treason. Horrified, elves, dwarves and hobbits learnt how one of their most powerful allies had turned his back to reason, and embraced the dark lord's cause.
Frances sighed, catching Elrohir's gaze on the other side of the open circle. If even the wise ones started swaying, the battle would be dire. She noted to ask more of this Saruman figure to the twins later one. Those two would know how to paint a quick strategic picture to her; they were used to her cultural shortcomings.
As the conversation went by, the bell rang noon, but nobody noticed it, except for Bilbo who never missed lunch time. Frodo, however, his deep blue eyes wide open, drank everyone's word like his life depended on it.
As Gandalf gave the council every detail of his adventures, many other stories joined in the tale, creating a complicated pattern even for those who knew much. This is how Frances started to realise how deep the affair of the ring was. It affected every living creature on middle earth, would they accept it or not? A hobbit, Gollum, was mentioned as the former owner of the ring. Gandalf had sent Aragorn to fetch him, and it was only by a miracle that he managed to capture the poor creature. His description of the creature was a bit weird, and the young lady felt a wave of uneasiness coming from both ranger and wood elf. It was then that the envoy from Greenwood stood up. Legolas, if Frances had heard right. His fair features were covered with shame, and it nearly hurt to hear the strain of his beautiful voice.
- "Alas, alas", exclaimed Legolas, "the tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told…"
This is how the company learnt that Gollum had escaped, probably helped by a band of Orcs. The wood elves, in their great kindness, had not had the heart to keep him into chains, and the foul little creature had played them by appealing to their good heart. One dwarf though, rose and spoke up in a harsh manner about the concern of elves, only to be told off by Gandalf. There was some underlying story there that Frances did not know about. The tension eased up as the dwarf bowed and sat down, but still some glances were exchanged between the group and Bilbo. Raising her eyebrows to the older hobbit, the young lady was rewarded by a semi smile, like a promise to tell her more whenever all the discussions of the fair folk would be finished. In matters of darwishness, always refer to Bilbo !
The talk went on, exploring any solution that could be offered, and one by one they were dismissed. Nobody had the strength to protect the ring, not even the elven lords, and there was no place to hide it that could ensure its safety. Many possibilities were suggested, and many more names quoted that Frances ignored. The dark lord had minions everywhere, and if not all foul creatures obeyed him, it wasn't worth taking a risk that any of them find the ring. Finally, as moments of silences started to slip through the discussion, she realised that all these people reunited had not found any solution. The giants of this era were powerless, and the young woman shivered. If elf lords, wizards, kings and dwarves could not find a way, then who would?
Surprisingly, it was Frodo who did. His legs shaking, he came up to the pedestal where the ring stood. Silence fell over the place as he said:
- "I will take the ring, though I do not know the way."
All eyes fell upon the hobbit in awe. Of all the people present there, he certainly seemed the weakest, and yet his courage would be sung for the rest of times. Shame filled everybody's heart as realisation sunk in, for all of them had been in battle before, even Frances. Before anybody could object though, Sam jumped into the circle, crying that his master could surely not go alone. This is how the council ended; hope resting on two hobbits' shoulders as more companions had yet to be designated to protect them on their quest. The unlikelihood of the event itself kept all mouths shut, even those of Elrond's sons who weren't usually the last to open.