Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or C.S Lewis
Escapade
Chapter Two
By Avaunt
Peter slowly walked around his temporary quarters, taking the beautiful workmanship of the elves in with an unrestrained sense of awe and appreciation. He fingered the delicately carved bed frame, the smooth touch of the wood foreign, yet comfortable under his callused fingers. Whether by luck or fate, his room intensely reminded him of his old bedroom in Narnia. But then again, this world seemed to have many similarities when compared to Narnia. It only made the homesickness in his gut churn even more.
Despite that, the moment Peter had decided to stay briefly in Rivendell, a deep sense of righteous calm had settled over him. He had a feeling, an instinct that he was meant to be here.
"Your room suits you?"
Peter whirled around and inwardly frowned slightly. He had not even heard the Ranger approached. He would hate to think that his skills had gotten that rusty! Never less, he smiled brightly at Strider, gesturing the man to come in.
"They are beautiful. The elves workmanship is… unbelievable." He softly touched one of the hand carved bedposts.
Aragorn smiled slightly, as if this reaction was a common occurrence. "I will be sure to pass on your compliments." He took a step forward. "Now come, changed out of your travel wear."
For the first time, Peter noticed the bundle of blue clothing Aragorn carried. He shook his head. "I couldn't possibly… I have nothing to trade."
Aragorn shook his head and laughed. "You owe me nothing." And without waiting for Peter's reply, he unceremoniously dumped them onto the bed. "Now quickly get changed." Aragorn ordered briskly. "There will be a council meeting in two bells. Lord Elrond expects you to be there."
Peter quickly popped his head through the blue tunic. The cloth was silky smooth, and felt as soft as cotton. It was as fine as any royal garb that Peter had once owned. He smiled to himself in appreciation. It seemed that elves made even the simplest garment into a work of art.
Once again, Peter was strongly reminded of Narnia. Peter could feel the sensation of aching homesickness begin to bubble within his chest. He looked at his new friend and concentrated on his request, anything to distract him from the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
"Why would I have to go to such a meeting?" The High King looked at Strider carefully, his blue eyes momentarily turning icy as his thoughts churned. "I am of no importance here."
The sudden change in demeanor did not go unnoticed by Aragorn. But before Aragorn could read anything else from the icy gaze, Peter's eyes quickly warmed, leaving only open curiosity and confusion in its wake.
"You were instrumental in the protection of the four Hobbits. Lord Elrond would like the council to hear your point of view of the attack. It is not often that a mere mortal can enter battle against a handful of Nazgul and emerge victorious."
Peter shook his head and smiled. "That was more you're doing then mine, I'm afraid." He was no fool. Peter could tell there was more reasoning behind his requested appearance. After all he was not just being humble when he pointed on Aragorn's contribution. His presence had only really delayed the creatures until Aragorn had arrived.
Aragorn shook his head. "Do not shy away from credit, my friend." Strong, wise hazel eyes met steely cerulean. "I owe you my eternal gratitude." It was silent for a moment as each solider stared at each other. No words crossed the distance between them, but before long a deep, respectful understanding was reached. Peter instinctively knew that Aragorn did not completely trust him, but for the moment was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
A soft rumble suddenly broke the silence into millions of jagged pieces. Both men looked at Peter's stomach. The owner in question blushed furiously. For a split second, Aragorn could not help but marvel at how young Peter suddenly seemed.
"There wouldn't happen to be a kitchen on the way… would there?" Peter asked meekly, rubbing his hungry and demanding stomach.
Aragorn laughed, catching both of them slightly off guard. "If we leave quickly I am sure I can get the kitchen staff to smuggle you some Limbas." Aragorn gestured for Peter to follow him, and with quick steps that suggested familiarity, headed down to the kitchens. "I have much to tell you before the Council begins."
Peter quickly buckled his sword, and headed after the older man. "What's Limbas?"
LORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLOR
Legolas's eyebrows peeked in interest as he observed the stranger sitting comfortably by Estel's side. The boy was easily the youngest in the room, and his presence puzzled the woodland elf. He looked around, noticing that the young boy's presence had also attracted the attention of the other occupants in the room.
Unconsciously, Legolas's forehead creased in dislike as he turned his attention to the loud and bawdy race, the dwarves. How on earth they managed to live in the ground constantly was still a mystery to him. They were so uncivilized!
Elrond stood up, quickly capturing Legolas's attention. "Strangers form distant lands, friends from old; you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." The Elf lord paused and looked around the council hall. Legolas eyes narrowed, as the Lord's impenetrable stare seemed to rest longer on both the boy and the hobbit. "Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall." Legolas made brief eye contact with Estel.
"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." The little hobbit got up from his seat and slowly walked over to the pedestal in the centre of the circular room. Slowly, almost reluctantly he placed a small, plain gold ring on the stone pedestal.
Almost immediately a soft, uneasy muttering sound broke out throughout the war council. No single race was unaffected by the evil, seductive aura that the Ring produced. Peter shifted in his seat as he realized the source of his earlier discomfort.
"So it is true." The words were soft spoken; yet they still managed to reach the ears of every single occupant in the room. Peter's attention was drawn to the wide shouldered man, sitting three seats down from him.
The man got up and walked to the centre of the room "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark but in the west a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane has been found." Throughout his speech he slowly walked closer to the pedestal, almost as if he was being drawn in not of his own accord. Hypnotically he reached forward to grasp the ring…
"Boromir!" Lord Elrond thundered, shooting up from his thrown alarmed. Peter's eyes widened slightly, and he too leaned out of his seat.
Across from him, the old man dressed in grey rose and from his lips thundered out a speech so dark and vile it hurt Peter's ears to listen to it. Not since the White Witch had Peter heard such power come from mere words. A shiver traveled down his spine.
Peter was not the only one affected. The man, Boromir, stumbled back; looking around as if wakening up from a trance. Quickly through, the warrior regained his footing. He did not sit down. Instead, Boromir looked around the council.
"Why not use this Ring?" His voice rang with misplaced conviction. "Long has the Steward of Gondor, my father, held back the forces of Mordor. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe!" His voice trembled with unrestrained emotion. He raised his hand and clenched his fist. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"
Peter's eyes narrowed. This did not sound like a good idea. He could feel the aura of the Ring almost pulse with energy. He opened his mouth to comment, when a voice next to him swiftly cut him off.
"You can not weld it. None of us can!" Peter looked sideways at his companion, noticing the slightly commanding tone underneath the Ranger's objection. "The One Ring answer's to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
Boromir whirled around and stared at the Ranger. "And what would a Ranger know of these matters?"
Legolas, unable to contain himself any longer, angrily stood up. "This is no mere Ranger; He is Aragorn son of Arathron. You own him your allegiance."
Boromir looked over at Aragorn in disbelief. Peter frowned. Why was did it matter who Strider's family was? He glanced over at his friend and could see that Aragorn was not too happy that this information was out.
"He is the heir to the throne of Gondor!"
Peter glanced over at Aragorn sharply, suddenly seeing the Ranger in a new light.
"Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King." Boromir's voice shot out, harsh and unforgiving. He stared at Aragorn with contempt and perhaps a hint of jealousy.
"Do not be a fool." The council room became stark silent as a new voice spoke up. It was Aragorn's turn to glance at his companion in surprise. Peter did not raise his voice, but there was no denying the icy authority in his tone. The High King straightened in his seat, not breaking his cold gaze with the warrior of Gondor. He had enough of this pompous, arrogant nobleman.
Legolas and everyone else in the council watched silently in surprise as the young man began to address the council, wielding an almost casual power that added strength to his words. "You claim that Gondor need's no King, yet you cannot even see past the deceptive surface that the Ring represents." The High King narrowed his eyes. "Even now, you are letting the mistakes of the past cloud your judgment of the presence."
The High King continued his voice still deceptively calm. Which made the words all the more potent "This battle is so much bigger then just you're Kingdom. In order for this threat to be defeated you all must unite and present a strong front." Ice blue pierced the council. "By bickering with each other, you only give your enemy another weapon he can exploit. And if you can't see that… then Aslan help us all." A soft subtle aura seemed to surround the High King before it disappeared. Peter stared at Boromir for a heart beat longer before breaking eye contact with the older man.
Peter knew it was not particularly wise to draw attention to himself. If Susan was here he was sure she would have a few words to say at his recklessness but he had no intention of becoming involved in the internal politics of another country. His interruption had to be done. Peter was no stranger when it came to dealing with a council. It was important that they stayed on task. And today that task was what to do with the deceptively simple gold ring.
"And who are you boy; that allows you to address me in such a manor?" Boromir's voice rang out, irritation ringing in his tone. He was not used to being spoken in such a manner.
Peter looked over at Aragorn apologetically, apart of him feeling guilty for the earlier lie, and then turned to face Boromir. "My name is Peter Pervenise, and I hail from a land called Narnia, across the endless sea."
At his declaration, a fury of gasps and out right denials broke out. Angrily, some members of the council stood up. For his part, Aragorn looked over at Peter in surprise. The teenage faced the on slot with a cool, blank expression. As if he was used to this particular reaction, or something like it.
"Impossible! Do not waste the time of this council with fairy tales boy!" One dwarf cried out. Others shouted out their agreement.
"Enough!" Lord Elrond roared. In the deafening silence that followed, Gandalf stood up, a seriousness in his eyes that captured the attention of the entire room.
"The boy speaks the truth. The Edar sent him from the wandering land in our time of need. And the time is indeed dire, and our need indeed great." He locked eyes with Peter for a moment. "Question his integrity at your own discretion." He voice grew even graver. "But now is not the time for our focus to be divided. There is the Ring that must be dealt with."
Gandalf sat back in his chair. "Aragorn is right, you can not wield it."
Elrond rose gracefully to his feet. Abstractly, Peter noticed that elves seemed to do everything gracefully. "You only have one choice." He looked around the circular room. "The Ring must be destroyed."
A dwarf stood up, "Well, what are we waiting for?" With a mighty heave he swung his ax down at the Ring. The air cracked and the Dwarf was flung backwards, his ax shattered into pieces. On the pedestal, the gold ring remained; completely unharmed.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft we here posses." Elrond scowled at the dwarf lightly. "The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there it can be unmade." Men, elves and dwarves alike shifted nervously at this news. That doesn't sound very cheery, Peter thought, noticing the sudden tension.
Lord Elrond continued. "It must be taking deep into the lands of Mordor, and cast back into the fiery depths from which it came." He paused. "One of you must do this."
The council room became dead silent, each contemplating the task ahead. Peter sat deep in thought. Out of one ear, he could vaguely here Boromir describe the dangers Mordor possessed. Peter paid little attention to what he said. He knew that despite the dangers, the Ring must be destroyed.
Lord Elrond never said it was going to be easy.
He also knew why Aslan sent him here. I hope next time he'll send me somewhere not on the brink of destruction! Peter grinned slightly at the thought.
Suddenly the shouts and cries of the council members jostled him back to reality. In surprise he looked up to see much of the council up in arms. What in Lion's Mane happened! He thought incredibly, unable to believe the chaos that suddenly surrounded him. For a moment, Peter could do nothing but stared wide eyed at the antics. Then a small movement caught his eyes.
"I will take it!" Frodo yelled.
The council grew silent and turned to stare at the small Hobbit.
"I will take the Ring to Mordor." Frodo continued softly. "…Though I do not know the way."
Gandalf closed his eyes in regret, and opened them. "I will help bare this burden, as long as it is yours to bare." He moved over to the Hobbit and gentle rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Peter looked over sharply as Aragorn stood. "If by my life or my death I can protect you, I will." He walked over to Frodo and kneeled, never breaking eye contact with the small hero. "You have my sword."
Legolas stood. "And my bow."
"And my ax." Gimli added gruffly.
Boromir walked over to Frodo. "You hold the fate of us all in your hands, little one." He paused, and for the first time Peter could see the strength and nobility this man possessed. "If this is the will of the Council, then Gondor shall see it done."
Finally the High King rose, drawing curious eyes. He walked forward, smoothly drawing his sword as he went. "You have faced this challenge with far more courage and honor than anyone in this room." He knelt in front of his sword; "I offer my services to you in these trying times. As long as I draw breath, you will not fail." He looked up: inflexible cerulean meeting stormy blue. "In Aslan's Name." A hum of power briefly filled the room.
By Aslan mane, I hope I did the right thing.