"I have to go to Mordor alone, Sam."

"But I made a promise, Mister Frodo! 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee.' And I'm gonna make good on that promise!"

"I know. But Sam, I can't put anyone else in peril - especially you."

"I'm not gonna leave you, Mister Frodo!"

"I know you wouldn't, Sam. But I can't let you go with me - not this time."

Tears filled Sam's eyes. Frodo put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Sam - it'll be all right."

A sad smile crossed Frodo's lips as he made eye contact with his dear friend.

"Look after the others for me - especially Merry and Pippin."

The tears came rolling as Sam hugged him.

"I will, Mister Frodo!"

Frodo returned his embrace.

"Oh, Sam... I'm so blessed to have a friend like you."

They released each other, with Sam placing his hands on Frodo's shoulders.

"Can you promise me something, Mister Frodo?"

"Yes?"

"That you'll survive and come back home alive and well?"

"I hope so. I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to keep it."

"Oh, Frodo... Thank you...!"

Frodo planted a reverent kiss on his brow before getting on the boat that rested on the banks of the river and rowing off to the other side.

"Goodbye, Sam."

Samwise Gamgee stood at the edge as he watched his truest friend sail away and venture off on the quest to Mordor.

...

By the next morning, the elves were leading Merida and her father on a narrow path along a rugged stone wall. They had gotten the two of them to Rivendell faster than either of them could have hoped for.

Waterfalls spilled over the mountains that surrounded the city. The entire place was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. The mountains were covered with lush green trees as far as the eye could see. Ahead of them was what looked like a great elven castle, complete with fine open woodwork and graceful courtyards. Merida stared in awe at her surroundings.

Soon enough, they reached the entrance. A mature elvish lord with long straight brown hair dressed in fine robes walked down the stairs to greet them.

"Mae govannen. What news do you have?"

"Strangers, my lord," one of the soldiers replied. "These two wish to attend the council."

"I'm sorry to say that the council has already passed. The Fellowship is now headed for Mordor."

Fergus got off Angus. He winced and grasped his arm as his feet touched the ground.

The elf lord's glance immediately shifted to him.

"How were you injured?"

"We were ambushed by orcs."

The elf lord immediately called for an escort.

"Lindir,"

"Yes, my lord?

"Take this man to the healers. His wounds need to be tended to before we discuss anything further."

Lindir nodded, and then escorted Fergus away.

The elf lord's eyes immediately shifted to Merida.

"And you - Are you this man's daughter?"

Merida dismounted Angus and looked him straight in the eye, head held high and her shoulders drawn back.

"Yes. I am Merida, daughter of Fergus, lord of Clan DunBroch and King of Dunland."

"Dunland?"

The elf's face suddenly became more serious, his mouth turning into a hard, grim line.

"Tell me - have the men of your country been loyal to your king?"

Merida let out a heavy sigh.

"Sadly, not. Saruman of Isengard has persuaded many of them to turn against both my father and the people of Rohan."

"I see. So you have come here for advice?"

"Aye, you could say that."

"And you wish to know what's happening outside your walls so that you'll know what to do within them?"

"Yes."

"Then it's settled. You and your father will both stay the night, and we shall discuss these matters in the morning."

The elf turned to leave, then took one last glance at Merida.

"I am Elrond, son of Eärendil. Welcome to Rivendell."

...

Merida couldn't get enough of the place. After dinner, she'd decided to spend the evening exploring Rivendell as her father was attended to by the elven healers.

Every flower and leaf seemed to be illuminated by the last light of the sun. The great trees cast dark, dramatic shadows on the ground. The courtyards and buildings were riddled with intricately carved designs and somehow seemed to fit right in with the natural landscape.

She wandered onto a bridge and continued to drink in her surroundings as she crossed it. She wandered on into an open building. A mural in a stone frame was on the wall before her, depicting a Gondorian man raising a broken sword against a great, dark, armored behemoth with a fiery golden ring gleaming on his massive finger.

Directly across from that mural was a seated, serene looking statue. The figure was holding a great slab in his lap, his stony face eternally pensive as he gazed at what lay there: the shards of what Merida could have sworn was the very sword in the mural.

Only when she glanced away from the statue did she see the woman dressed in an elegant silvery gown sitting on a nearby chair, clutching a finely embroidered tunic to her bosom. Her long, flowing dark hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her blue eyes shifted in Merida's direction as the latter carefully approached her.

"Hello?"

The woman laid the tunic onto her lap.

"Mae govannen."

She brushed her long tresses behind her shoulder, revealing a pointed ear. She briefly scanned the length of the redhead before her.

"Where are you from?"

"Um, Dunland... My lady?"

The elf smiled briefly, amused at the manner of her reply. However, it vanished as quickly as it came, her brows knitting pensively.

"Dunland?"

"Aye. My father is King Fergus."

"I see. What is your name?"

"Merida. And you are...?"

"Arwen. What brings you here to Rivendell?"

"We were originally here for a council, but apparently it's already passed."

"The one my father held?"

Merida raised an eyebrow.

"... I guess. Were you there?"

"Yes and no."

"Could you possibly fill me in?"

"All right. There were visitors from all over Middle Earth: men, elves, wizards, dwarves - even a halfling."

"And...?"

"They were discussing how to deal with the evil that's causing this war," Arwen cryptically replied.

"What evil?"

"I cannot say."

"Why not?"

"For the sake of ones who've set out to destroy it."

Well, that's quite helpful.

The elf grasped the tunic in her lap. Merida shifted her gaze to it and changed the subject.

"What is that?"

Arwen quickly glanced at the tunic.

"This?"

Merida nodded.

"This was Aragorn's. He wore it when he attended the council."

"Who's this Aragorn you speak of?"

"He is the son of Arathorn and one of the Dunedain."

Arwen's gaze dropped back to the garment before her as she smoothed it tenderly across her lap.

"I'm assuming you know him?" Merida inquired.

A rueful smile appeared on Arwen's face.

"Yes, I do."

Her gaze shifted to the mural on the wall.

"See that man in the painting? The one with the broken sword?"

Merida nodded.

"His name is Isildur," Arwen continued. "And Aragorn is his heir."

Merida's eyes wandered back to the statue and the shards it held.

Suddenly she noticed the striking resemblance they had to the sword in the painting. She took the handle and held it up to the painting. Her eyes widened as she turned back to Arwen.

"Is this...?"

"Yes. That is Narsil."

Merida lowered the handle as her gaze trailed up to the monstrous, armored humanoid that loomed over Isildur.

"Who - What is that?"

"Sauron."

Suddenly, Merida noticed the fiery golden band on Sauron's finger.

Merida looked at Arwen again.

"Is this it?"

"Is this what?"

"The evil that the council was trying to destroy?"

"Yes."