Author's note: Wilwarin and Gwilwileth are my characters, although their names are apart of Tolkien's language. Italics are Wilwarin's thoughts. This is my first story so please R&R.
Three years later: September 1st 3018
For those three years, since I had that talk with Gandalf in Thranduil's garden, I trained. Legolas taught me how to use a bow, a sword and knives, I wasn't as good as I would have liked, but I was good enough to be able to protect myself.
One day, we received word, just as I expected, of a council that Lord Elrond was holding in Rivendell. The time had come. I was nervous, but ready. I could fight and speak fluently in Quenya and Sindarin. I had also perfected my elvish abilities, my eyesight and hearing were improved and I had more elegance when I walked. I was now a true elf.
The day we left for Rivendell I was fully equipped. I had a bow and a full quiver of arrows and a sword. I also carried numerous small knives, two were on my belt with my sword, one was strapped around my right ankle, and one around my left wrist. I also had one no one knew of, it was strapped to the back of my neck, the strap made to look like a fancy leather chocker necklace. All of my weapons also had my crest on them. A silver and blue butterfly spread out in front of a blue crescent moon.
It took almost two months for us to reach Rivendell. We arrived the night before the council, in time for the feast. I was very excited. I met many people I had read of in the books and many who hadn't been mentioned. But when I went to sleep that night I was scared of what would happen the next day.