Chapter 5
The troupe of six had traveled as far and as fast as they could go, but Rivendell seemed to still be just as close as when they were in Bree. Feet were blistering and wounds were reopening or bruising and it slowed progress immensely. The worst was that Frodo was quickly deteriorating: he had broken out in sweats, his mucus and saliva seemed discolored, and his normally pallid gray-blue eyes were now a rich sky blue and they seemed to glance around blindly. His groans and cries of agony have degraded to small, pitiful whines. Sam attempted to comfort Frodo, speaking of the three massive stone trolls that surrounded them, the trolls from Bilbo's story of his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Merry, Pippin, Sierra, and Strider all kept watch as everyone in the party caught their breath. Somehow in the fight and the run, Strider's pony Bill had reappeared, huffing and puffing as a scared, tired pony would. Sierra praised Bill infinitely and searched the bags he still carried for anything that might help them: she found bandages, some ointments, and a few herbal pastes. Strider dismissed all of it, calling it useless to Frodo's tenuous state.
"He's goin' cold." Sam reported, his voice echoing his fear.
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked as he looked at Frodo.
"He is passing into the Shadow World." Strider answered, "He will soon become a wraith like them." Frodo gasped and wheezed painfully as strange calls rang out from the forest.
"They're close." Merry half whispered.
"Those weren't the Nazgûl…" Sierra said cautiously. The standing hobbits all shuddered and clustered closer together.
"Sam," Strider murmured, catching Sam's attention, "Do you know the Athelas plant?"
"Athelas?" the hobbit wondered.
"Kingsford." Strider clarified.
"Kingsford? Ah, that's a weed." Sierra then remembered another book, a book on herbal medicine. She regretted not having had the chance to collect it from Bag End.
"It may help to slow the poison." He handed a torch to Sam, "Hurry."
"I'll go too." Sierra volunteered. She knew what Kingsford looked like and another pair of eyes was always handy. Together, she, Sam, and Strider scoured the area for Kingsford. She heard Strider pull out a blade and then a woman spoke.
"What's this?" the woman asked, "A ranger caught off his guard?" Sierra whirled and pulled out her knife in time to see the female holding a long, graceful blade to Strider's neck. She was torn between charging the stranger and not wanting Strider's throat to be cut. In the end, the female stranger was a friend of Strider's, an elf Sierra later learned was named Arwen. Together, the two humans, the elf, and the hobbit quickly returned to their ailing friend. Strider crammed the Kingsford into his mouth, flowers and all, and chewed the herb to a paste as quick as he could.
"He is fading." Arwen whispered ominously as she revealed the blackened wound. Strider spat out the pasts and placed it inside Frodo's wound, causing the poor hobbit to arch and gasp in pain. "He is not going to last. We must get him to my father." She helped take up Frodo into Strider's arms and spoke to him, "I have been looking for you for two days."
"Where are you taking him?" Merry asked.
"There are five wraiths behind you," it was as if the others weren't even there, "Where the other four are, I do not know." Strider placed Frodo carefully in the saddle of Arwen's white, faintly dappled horse. Then Strider and Arwen spoke in Elvish, seemingly arguing.
"What are they saying?" Pippin asked. Sierra could not tell them, but she recognized their mention of Frodo's name; her best guess was that it was about who would ride the beast. Soon, Arwen mounted her horse and gently cradled Frodo's frail body to hers.
"Arwen," Strider said softly, "ride hard. Don't look back." Indeed, the hobbits and Sierra shared his sentiments, wishing a swift ride to the she-elf and their dear friend. But Sam was worried.
"What are you doin'?!" He shouted, "Those wraiths are still out there!" Strider remained silent as he looked after where Arwen had ridden.
"Arwen rides faster than any ringwraith." He assured them, "Frodo is in the hands of the elves now." It seemed like that should have been a comforting statement, but they still worried deeply. All of them. After standing around for too long, Sierra started out in the direction Arwen went, the pony moving to follow her.
"Wait! Sierra, where are you going?" Pippin asked from the back of the group.
"To Rivendell." She said before forging ahead again. It wasn't long before Strider again took the lead and the group of five and one equine moved as fast and as far as they could, even going so far as to forgo sleep and even a sit-down breakfast to save time. They needed to know Frodo survived, that he was alive and well, that their journey would not result in his death before their objective was realized.
It had been several days of hard travel, but the party had come across elven scouts that guided them through the woods and hills until they finally reached Rivendell. All were greatly relieved when they found Frodo had survived his endeavor and was in the process of recovering, courtesy of elven magic. The party was given places to rest, wash, eat, and recover from their exhausting journey. Sierra was elated to have a real bath with scented soaps for the first time since she left Hobbiton to sell those furs. She and her companions were ripe with sweat, grime, and sores from travelling. They had spent three days in the security of Rivendell when Gandalf finally appeared, much to the relief of all who knew him. It was another four days before Frodo finally woke up.
In that period, Sierra had explored much of the House of Elrond and met many of the elves that guarded and worked in the haven-like valley. Indeed, the elves and the elven home were just as described in the books, beautiful beyond compare and then some. But the most marvelous discovery for Sierra was finding Bilbo Baggins seated on a bench in the sunshine, a pen in his hand and a mostly blank book in his lap. She was beyond glad to see her dear friend, the hobbit who helped her survive and get this far. He'd known a few things of what magic could do, understood her strange and sudden transport to the world of Middle-Earth, and helped her become better acclimated to her new home.
But in Rivendell, things were changing and plans were being made. Elves, men, and dwarves were arriving. And Sierra, dressed in a simple coppery elf dress and with her now long hair pulled back low and held by a silvery band, watched them all. First came a man, a human man, with fair shoulder-length hair and a shield on his back in the company of some older riders; he was a warrior and he had with him a fine brown steed. Next to arrive was a troupe of elves astride pale horses with sizable bows and full quivers on their backs; archers, probably some of the most skilled in all of Middle-Earth if rumors were to be believed. Lastly came the dwarves, all stoutly-built with thick beards; the one with the red beard seemed most boisterous and loud.
Sierra knew a council was forming. Logic dictated it was for the fate of the Ring and, consequently, for all of the people of Middle-Earth.
It was after dinner one evening that Sierra sat at the edge of a balcony, gazing out over the greenery and waterfalls lit by the pale moon rising in the sky and the golden glow of lanterns. She heard soft footsteps nearby and turned to face the person, or elf as it turned out, who had arrived. Like all elves, he was very fine-featured, but differently than the elves of Rivendell: his sharp brow, squared jaw, and his long fair hair, looking almost white in the moonlight, contrasted with the softer features and typically darker hair of the elves of Rivendell. The elf was dressed in a green tunic and brown trousers with leather bracers, belt, and boots. He regarded Sierra as he passed and she bowed her head in a polite greeting before returning to look over the valley.
"We do not often see humans in the home of the elves." The elf said as he slowed his pace, just loud enough to be heard from his position.
"Indeed. Likewise, I believe it is not often elves are seen in the home of man, dwarf, or hobbit." Sierra answered, glancing to the side as the elf approached the balcony. He nodded and laughed lightly in agreement.
"Have you traveled far?" the elf asked.
"I have." Sierra recalled, suppressing an exhausted sigh, "All the way from Hobbiton, even."
"Hobbiton? I did not know humans dwelled among hobbits." Apparently, Sierra's living situation in a hobbit hole was unusual.
"I have a friend, Bilbo Baggins." Sierra explained, "He let me live with him when I lost my own home about four or five months ago. And now I'm here with Bilbo's nephew and his three friends, though it was by no means an easy trek." She left the story of the adventure at that, both trying to keep from recalling the more terrifying of events and the keep from boring the regal-looking elf. She momentarily remembered Bilbo's mention of the elf king of Mirkwood.
"Ah!" he said, as if remembering something, "So you must be this 'woman ranger' I have heard murmurs of." Sierra had no comment to that, but looked directly at the elf beside her with surprise.
"I had no idea I was the subject of gossip." Sierra said honestly turning to look at the valley again, "Though…woman ranger? I'm not sure if I qualify to be categorized as a ranger."
"You sell yourself short." He commented looking at her earnestly, "From what I've heard, you tricked the Nazgûl in Bree, fought them off of your hobbit companion, and made it to Rivendell with nary a scratch." He was reporting exactly what the other elves were murmuring around the dining table and in the halls. Yet Sierra hid a flattered blush and continued to stare over the valley.
"True, I didn't get a scratch," Sierra answered with a chuckle, "I received many. As well as a few bruises, blisters, and sores from the endeavor." The elf nodded with what appeared to be amusement. Suddenly a voice called off behind Sierra and the elf, causing them both to turn their heads.
"Sierra!" it was Pippin, "Come on now, we need ya in the dinin' hall! Merry's challenged Sam to a drinkin' contest!" Relieved to have a reason to escape the conversation with the admittedly handsome elf, Sierra quickly scooted off her perch and started to walk over to Pippin.
"Forgive me miss," She paused to regard the elf, "but I don't believe I ever got your name."
"Brander." She answered, becoming a little flustered, "Sierra Brander. And yours?"
"You will learn my name in time. Farewell for now, miss Brander." The elf said with a gentle bow of his head. When he turned away to look at the valley, Sierra took it as a dismissal and spun, continuing her way to Pippin and the others.
It was the next day when Sierra was asked by Gandalf to change into her travelling gear and join him later that morning. She did as asked, returning to her room and putting on the gear the elves had gifted her: a corset-like undergarment to brace her chest, a pale cream sleeved shirt, a dark blue cloth vest tunic, a leather full-torso vest for protection, a leather belt with knife holsters, fitted breeches, leather bracers, and tall leather boots. The last piece was a cloak, her original cloak, which had been carefully laundered in her time in Rivendell. After tying back her hair, Sierra looked for Gandalf in his frequent haunts around Rivendell, eventually finding him, Bilbo, and Frodo seated together.
"Aha!" proclaimed Bilbo when he spotted Sierra, "There's a right, proper adventurer!"
"Thank you, Bilbo." Sierra said with a laugh and a small blush, "The elves seem to know just what an adventurer needs."
"Indeed, you both look quite ready." Gandalf said, regarding Frodo in his new travelling outfit as well as Sierra, "Do excuse us, Bilbo my friend. Elrond has requested our presence." Sierra hadn't seen much of Elrond since she'd arrived, more often he was speaking to Gandalf as she passed them or back when he was checking to see Frodo while the hobbit was recovering. She'd only had a handful of times where she had a conversation with him. Dutifully, Frodo and Sierra followed the wizard, saying goodbye to Bilbo. Sierra soon saw the men she'd seen enter Rivendell a short time ago, all of them arranged in a semicircle facing a pair of chairs occupied by Elrond and Arwen. Sierra felt the eyes of the political figureheads as she entered; women must not be common attending these kinds of councils, aside from important women like Arwen.
"A woman?" scoffed one of the dwarves, a balding man with a full, dark beard.
"A ranger, from what I hear." Commented a familiar voice. Sierra glanced and recognized him as the elf she had met the night before; he was wearing a satiny beige cloak over his apparel.
"And a good one at that." Gandalf added with a chuckle as he, Frodo, and Sierra took the three remaining open seats at the far end of the council with Sierra on the very end and Frodo between her and the wizard.
"I wouldn't go that far. I can't even fire an arrow…" Sierra murmured softly, a faint nervous blush on her face. Soft whispers were passed between the council members and Sierra felt her nervousness mount tenfold. Being the source of talk was one of her few social fears. Frodo gave her a reassuring pat on the arm and she nodded a thanks. Gracefully, Elrond stood and all other conversation ceased. After a moment's pause, he began.
"Strangers from distant lands. Friends of old." He spoke firmly yet elegantly, as is right for a lord elf, "You've 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." Nervous glances danced across the council; even Strider seemed unnerved. "Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." Elrond indicated the stone pedestal at the center of the council assemblage and Frodo gingerly shifted out of his seat, his right hand clenched tight around the cursed object. Delicately, he placed the ring in the dead center of the pedestal and moved back to his seat. He seemed more than grateful to not have the Ring on his person any more.
Whispers flew in the council as the golden temptation sat there before them all. Sierra gulped nervously as she felt its oppressing power, finding herself confused when she heard whispers seemingly coming from the ring itself. The human man, the one who'd bore a shield on his back, was the first to stand.
"A dream," he started, "I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west a pale light lingered." Sierra kept her eye on the man as he spoke, his careful steps taking him closer to the Ring. "A voice was crying, 'Your doom is near at hand…Isildur's bane is found…'" Sierra tensed and glanced to Elrond, Strider and Gandalf. Something was wrong. "…Isildur's bane…" Before any could stop him, he began to reach for the Ring. Elrond stood first and called the man's name, Boromir, but it was soon drowned out by Gandalf's spellcasting and a booming, incoherent voice rang out. Boromir staggered back under the force of the voice and the people in attendance jumped and shouted in surprise or winced and held their heads in pain. Sierra placed a hand over her sternum and had to force herself to take calming breaths, both to feed air into her lungs and to calm her rapidly beating heart. Gandalf added magnitude to his voice as he stood before it quickly died down and it was peaceful under the trees once more.
"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris." Elrond stated firmly; Imladris was the old word for Rivendell and a far more graceful word than Sierra could have ever given.
"Do not ask your pardon, master Elrond." Gandalf said as he suddenly seemed weary, his staff taking the roll of a cane to support him, "For the black speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the west." So that was the language spoken in Mordor? It was a brutal, terrifying tongue that left everyone rattled. "The Ring is altogether evil." He seemed to be scolding Boromir in particular as he turned to return to his seat.
"Ah, it is a gift!" Boromir insisted, Gandalf turned to face him again, "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this ring?" Sierra knew right then that he had completely fallen to the lure of the cursed piece. "Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe." Strider kept a calm eye on the other man but shifted in his seat, Boromir was becoming wildly unnerving with his confident grin. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him."
"You cannot wield it." Strider finally chimed in, "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir challenged, turning to face him.
"This is no mere ranger." the familiar elf said, rising from his seat, "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." Sierra's eyes widened as she glanced at her recently acquired friend. She had heard stories of Aragorn, the Rogue Prince some called him, and that he disappeared years ago. Apparently, he had merely hidden himself as a ranger named Strider. Frodo and Boromir both looked incredulously at the ranger and he sat comfortably in his chair, a sudden importance graced his features.
"Aragorn…" Boromir half-whispered, "This is Isildur's heir?" He seemed in denial of this claim.
"And heir to the throne of Gondor." The elf added. So it was indeed true. Sierra felt some guilt towards doubting Aragorn when he was still known as Strider. Aragorn spoke gently yet firmly to the elf, in elvish Sierra guessed, and the elf apparently obliged and returned to his seat.
"Gondor has no king." Boromir all but spat as he looked at the elf then turned back towards Aragorn, "Gondor needs no king." Then he took his seat and said no more on the matter. Sierra decided immediately that she had to keep an eye on Boromir when she was near him.
"Aragorn is right," Gandalf chimed in, "we cannot use it." Sierra was certain Frodo knew better than all of them how the ring behaved and the look on his face assured her that it was pointless to try and master the Ring of Sauron.
"You have only one choice," Elrond spoke, standing once again, "The ring must be destroyed." Those assembled either nodded, murmured assent, or otherwise conveyed agreement. No good could ever come of the evil trinket.
"Then what are we waiting for?" The dwarf with the red beard stated as he stood, grabbed his axe, and attacked the Ring dead-on. Sierra flinched and covered her face as the sturdy metal axe was reduced to little more than rubble and the dwarf was thrown backward onto the ground. Fine axes, fine Dwarven axes did not break easily, if at all, and never shattered. Sierra then noticed Frodo wincing and hissing lightly as if in pain.
"Are you alright?" Sierra whispered to the hobbit. He briefly shook his head 'no' but didn't tell her what exactly hurt. His hand flew to his head and he started to pant. Gandalf noticed this too and cast a worried glance to the halfling. A dark language seemed to ring out of the trinket.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess." Elrond spoke ominously, "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." Sierra was suddenly having second thoughts about this mission. She'd read many maps in Bag End and there was only one Mount Doom: a volcano, smack in the heart of Mordor itself. "One of you must do this." The elf lord finished. The council was silent and composed once again.
"One does not simply walk into Mordor." Boromir said softly, "Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great eye," he made a firm whisper of the word, "is ever watchful. 'Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this." He shook his head for emphasis, "It is folly." Again the elf stood to confront Boromir.
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" he chastised, causing Boromir to rightly look away, "The Ring must be destroyed!"
"An' I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" the red-bearded dwarf, Gimli, accused.
"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir stood, asking a sensible question for once. Sierra did worry what would happen if the adventure indeed ended in a failed objective? "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" The dwarf spat as he stood, inspiring a shouting match between everyone present. It was a loud, wild chaos and not even Elrond or Gandalf could calm them all back to sense. Each race threw rude accusations and curses about the others, the shouting growing louder and louder as they all tried to be heard above the others. Eventually, Sierra could bear this arguing no more and exploded.
"ENOUGH!" Sierra found herself screaming above them all, sending her chair clattering and Frodo to look at her in surprise. This was the first time she'd ever found herself acting to be heard over any cacophony and the others quieted to look at her end of the semicircle, some whispering continued arguments among themselves. "You are all fools! Can't you see? The Ring's magic and even Sauron himself is driving a wedge between all of us! Cursing each other and plotting for your own gain is no solution!" After a brief pause and more soft whispers, Frodo stood and spoke softly.
"I will take it." The others seemed confused, "I will take the Ring to Mordor." Sierra was stunned. Frodo was a braver hobbit than she had thought. Willing to take up the Ring again, even after the difficulties it gave the group before they even reached Rivendell. He continued, "Though…I do not know the way."
"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," Gandalf confirmed, patting the hobbit's shoulder and moving to stand at his back, "as long as it is yours to bear."
"Then I will join you, too." Sierra confirmed, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze, "After all, I've followed you this far." Sierra still hated the journey and its prospects, but if Frodo was willing to look death in the face for the better of others, then she would too.
"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." Aragorn stated, standing strong and approaching Frodo to kneel before him and clasp the hobbit's hand. "You have my sword."
"And you have my bow." The familiar elf stated with a smile.
"And my axe." Confirmed Gimli, determined to not be outdone by his elvish counterpart. Slowly, Boromir approached the now assembled group of six.
"You carry the fates of us all, little one." He said, "If this is indeed the will of the Council…then Gondor will see it done." Suddenly a shout rang out from the bushes behind the group and Sam appeared from the bushes. The little spy must have heard just about everything. He then elbowed his way in between Sierra and Aragorn to stand at Frodo's right.
"Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me." Sam firmly commanded.
"No indeed." Elrond commented, quite surprised, and Sierra believed amused, at Sam's antics, "It is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." As if by magic, Merry and Pippin also appeared.
"Oi! We're coming too!" Merry shouted, Pippin hot on his heels. Sierra put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh at Elrond's reaction to these ridiculous hobbits. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."
"Anyway," Pippin joined, "you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…quest…thing." It seemed decided then, that the hobbits were sticking together.
"Well, that rules you out, Pip." Merry muttered to his friend.
"Ten companions." Elrond remarked, "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."
"Great." Pippin said cheerily, "Where are we going?" Indeed, this would be a long journey.
This was a long one. Fair warning, future chapters will be leaning more towards the 4,000 and 3,000 word mark.
-.-.-. News update .-.-.-
Unfortunately, my computer had a disastrous crash Tuesday, March 11, the night before my usual story update. What is fortunate is that I managed to save this chapter on FF before the crash and I hope to recover the remaining pre-written chapters from Carbonite in short order. If there is a delay on the chapter posting next week, I will let you know.
