The Council of Elrond

Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

Chapter Two

A murmur of disapproval rumbled through the hall. Kíli was almost out of his chair. ''You bl...'' Fíli pulled him back. Kíli turned, his long, dark hair flipping. He froze and then fell back to his seat and closed his mouth. ... bloody wretched slouch of an elf, Kíli growled to himself with a heavy scowl. If looks could kill, Legolas would have ended up as a small pile of ash. After a fellowship of thirteen dwarves had escaped from their dungeons, the elves had obviously learned nothing new.

''We just intended to treat this pathetic creature kindly,'' Legolas said, making an apologetic gesture with his hands out. ''He obviously didn't appreciate it.''

Now Glóin exploded and was half out of his chair. ''What's this, you pointy eared spalpeen?'' he shouted. ''You were far less tender to us,'' he raged with a flash of his eyes. Gimli raised his axe, fuming. Thinking of his father in the elvish dungeons… unbearable.

Fíli grabbed him by the elbow and jerked him down to his seat. He was running out of arms to hold his kin back. ''Easy, cousin, easy,'' he sighed with a frustrated voice. He looked to his right.. Kíli. Then to his left... Glóin and Gimli... all together three pairs of furious eyes. Fíli hung his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ''Please, ahkthuz!'' he commanded to his brother and his cousins. He looked up with a steel expression. More glaring from both sides but all dwarves stayed in their seats. Elves and dwarves together in one room… was that ever going to be easy?

''That is ill news indeed,'' Aragorn said. ''How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?''

Kíli's mood lightened as he recalled the state of the guards in Thranduil's cellar. He suppressed a grin and said nothing.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows and shook his head. It was his turn to reveal the last chapter of the tale of the Ring. There was still a lot to say because the tale was long. And when he was finally done, he looked down as if burdened by the weight of the story. For a moment, the council was silent.

''It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why do not use the ring?'' Boromir said.

But the wizard cut him short. ''Aragorn is right with what he said. We cannot use it.''

The Ring had to vanish from Middle Earth, once and for all. But getting this into the heads of everyone in the council was a completely different story.

''You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed,'' Lord Elrond stated.

Gimli roused from his chair, clearly running out of patience. ''Then what are we waiting for?'' He charged forward, swinging his axe.

''Gimli, NO!'' Fíli shouted, leaping up and dashing after him.

Kíli, half asleep again after the almost endless storytelling, jerked up and was fully awake in a flash. He was out of his chair as well, trying to hold Gimli back by reaching out to grab his cousin's coat.

But their younger cousin was too quick. He brought his axe down on the ring…

BOOM!

A blinding flash of bright white light, debris flying everywhere, Gimli flew backwards and landed on his back, his axe destroyed.

Kíli merely managed to stay on his feet, shielding his head with his arms against the blast. From the corner of his eyes he saw Fili turning away, hands on his head.

Axe pieces were raining down on them.

Then… silence.

Slowly the dust settled.

Gimli laid still.

''Mahal's Hammer, Gimli,'' Fíli muttered, going to his knees beside his cousin. ''Are you hurt?''

Kíli slid to the other side, concerned he put one hand on Gimli's shoulder shaking him. ''Gimli, can you hear us?''

For a long Moment… no reaction. Suddenly Gimli sputtered and struggled to pull himself together. He shook his head to clear his view and then looked up to Fíli… then to Kíli… and then back, looking cross-eyed and stunned while his father leaned over him, too. Glóin was more than happy to see his son unhurt. In unison the brothers hooked their arms under Gimli's armpits, attempting to get him on his feet.

Lord Elrond seemed to be unimpressed. ''The ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. The ring must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.''

Fíli, Kíli and Gimli turned to glare at Lord Elrond. Gimli looked furious, Fíli looked hard as stone and Kíli drew his brows together with a dark glare. Why couldn't he have said that before?

Fíli put his hand on Gimli's arm to ensure he wouldn't fall over again. ''Are you all right?'' Gimli sat upright but he was swaying a bit, still at a loss of words.

Kíli brushed off the dust of Gimli's coat. ''I'm perhaps the last one to say it,'' he grinned. ''But sometimes it's better to think twice before you leap.''

Gimli just scowled at him.

''One of you must do this,'' Lord Elrond added.

Ah, that was the point, Kíli thought. Another chance for the secret keepers of Middle Earth to send some of their professed friends on a suicide mission. Typical. He glowered at Gandalf, who looked perfectly innocent.

Boromir rubbed the bridge of his nose. ''One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten-thousand men could you do this. It is folly.''

Yes, Kíli thought, same folly as planning to enter a dragon-infested ruined kingdom in a group of thirteen and sending a Hobbit to the front. After all these years he could hardly believe that he'd been so enthusiastic for that insanity.

Then he heard Legolas speaking and his head flew around. What? What was that darned elf saying?

''Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The ring must be destroyed!'' Legolas told Boromir.

Kíli looked at Fíli again. Fine, right… but how could we do it? And better me to see to it than Fíli. Our Kingdom needs him. He looked back at Gimli, noticing that his cousin had been staring at him.

Suddenly, Gimli leaped up and wrangled himself out of his cousins' grip. ''And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?'' He stomped forward.

''Gimli,'' Fíli warned. ''For Mahal's sake, shut up!''

It was too late.

Gimli puffed up, but before he could answer the elf Boromir spoke again. ''And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?''

This was definitely getting out of hand.

''I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf! Never trust an Elf!'' Gimli roared.

Kíli's expression went blank and Fíli just rubbed his face. Well, Gimli was right, dwarves and elves, not a perfect match. But in this case… they needed an agreement, whatever it took.

But there were shouts, allegations… Gandalf shook his head in resignation.

Suddenly Bilbo slid from his chair. ''All right, all right, I brought that cursed thing out of the Gollum's cave, so It's my duty to ensure that we get rid of it again.''

The room silenced immediately. All heads turned and a lot of shocked doubting looks pierced the old Hobbit, only Glóin smiled but his smile came from old memories.

Gandalf hung his head and Lord Elrond raised one hand. ''No my dear friend, this task does not belong to you. The Ring had passed to Frodo, and your part in the history of the One Ring ended a long time ago.''

And before anyone could say anything more a voice... almost sounding a little scared. ''I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor… though… … I do not know the way.'' Frodo said.

Gandalf closed his eyes in silent despair. There it was again – he himself, just like the dwarves, had witnessed that before: the courage of Hobbits.

Gandalf took a deep breath. ''I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it's yours to bear.'' He smiled.

Aragorn rose from his seat. ''If with my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword,'' he said, going to one knee in front of Frodo.

Legolas stepped forward. ''You have my bow.''

Kíli's guts went hollow. His head was spinning. This was the moment, the moment he'd inwardly feared. Loyalty, honor and a willing heart… sure. He was a son of Durin, and he would never run from a fight. And yet…

He closed his eyes, a flood of thoughts whirling through his head. He thought of Sòley, his lady wife and he thought of his sons, and of Fíli and his family.

Fíli… Fili was King of Erebor. He had to return to the Mountain, to lead their people through whatever was lying ahead of them.

So it was his turn to represent the dwarves on this quest. Suddenly his knee burned like fire. Was he even able to go?

He took a deep, deep breath, feeling himself shaking. His vision blurred. He grabbed the armrests of his chair and was about to rise, offering his sword and bow (he was able to wield both weapons expertly after all) as well, when a heavy gloved hand firmly touched his chest, holding him back.

''No!''

Kíli blinked, looking at Gimli in disbelief. His cousin's expression was warm and kind under the rich forest of his thick beard, almost fatherly (which was odd, for Gimli was a bit younger than he). Kili paused, hands still on the armrests of the chair.

One time Gimli slightly shook his head. ''No,'' he whispered again. ''You belong with your brother, Erebor will need both of you.''

Then Gimli turned. ''And my axe,'' he said stepping up beside the others.

Kíli stood unmoving, completely at a loss for words. The he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and turned around. He faced his brother, looking in his blue eyes which looked like they were filled with unshed tears.

Yes, I belong with my brother.

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Khuzdul: ahkthuz! = endure

Thank you for reading, if you hhave a moment, please let me know what you think.

Mahal's Blessings, Jessie

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