All right, things are going to start picking up now. For everyone who suffered through my horrendous first few chapters, thanks a bunch.
Chapter Seven
~ Estel ~
"You want me to what?" I gasped, staring at Lord Elrond.
He laughed at me. It was not the first laughter I'd coaxed out of him, but it was the first that I had not joined in. I certainly wasn't finding this funny.
His laughter died down, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "~I want you to come to the council, ~" he repeated.
"~But – But – But I have absolutely nothing to do with this! And I doubt that Denethorion will like seeing a woman in the Council of Elrond, ~" I added, remembering what I had learned about Boromir.
Lord Elrond's grey eyes hardened slightly. "~He is in Imladris now, not in Minas Tirith, ~" he said firmly. "~I told you, Estel – no one will harm you here. And I meant that. ~"
I looked down. "~I know. But still . . . ~"
"~And you have plenty to do with it, ~" Lord Elrond continued. "~You are only a descendant of both Elros and I because Aragorn succeeds in the quest brought up in this council. ~"
I sighed. "~As you wish, my lord, ~" I said, relenting.
He hugged me gently. "~You'll be fine, Estel, ~" he said reassuringly.
And so I found myself sitting between Mithrandir and Glorfindel, listening to the Council of Elrond. However, because of my worries, Lord Elrond had allowed me to be cloaked and hooded so as to conceal my identity. I ignored the pointed glances coming from the Mirkwood Elves at the breach of etiquette, and to distract myself, I allowed my gaze to travel across the people there.
The seating arrangement clearly tells me what races are here, I thought, amused by the unconscious grouping of races that the races present had followed. Lord Elrond sat with Elladan and Elrohir sitting on either side of him, and to the left sat Aragorn and more Men. After the Men came the Dwarves, and then the Elves. And then me, and a wizard, and a Hobbit.
As my gaze traveled over the Men, Elves, and Dwarves, I wondered which of the people there were to become the members of the Fellowship. I knew that Boromir Denethorion, Legolas Thranduilion, and Gimli Glóin's son would join the Fellowship, and wondered which of the people where them. I had withheld this knowledge from Lord Elrond, acting on a guiding instinct that he didn't need to know those names yet. But I had warned him to keep a careful watch on Boromir.
When everyone was finally here, Lord Elrond stood. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old," he greeted. His eyes flickered around the semi-circle, resting on me briefly. I fought the sudden urge to laugh. Of course, I am neither. I am no stranger, yet neither am I a friend of old, I thought, amused.
"You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." I shivered slightly at the name. Even though I had been born in an Age where Mordor held no threat to me, the mere name itself seemed to carry connotations of evil.
"Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate – this one doom."
Lord Elrond then turned slowly to Frodo. He gestured shortly at the pedestal. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo," he commanded.
The Hobbit rose slowly, and slowly placed the Ring down. I shivered again as the Ring whispered to me, squeezing my eyes shut. The Ring held no attraction to me, yet . . . yet it whispered so enticingly to me, so eagerly.
I saw myself throwing down the cruel stewards. I saw myself liberating the peoples of my country. I saw myself crowned as Queen of the Kingdoms of Gondor, Arnor, and Rohan, righting the wrongs wrought by the stewards.
No. I set my jaw as memories of what the Ring had brought about barged into my mind for others it had whispered to. It had been the death of High King Gil-galad, of Elendil, of Anárion, of Isildur, and so many countless others. It wanted to possess me now, and turn me into something else – something evil. It would cause heartache and lost innocence to so many more.
"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark." A voice jarred me from my internal struggles. I sat up straighter, uneasy, as the owner of the voice stood to address the Council. "But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: 'Your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found.'"
Oh, no. . . Only one person had brought up Isildur's Bane – Boromir, son of Denethor. I stared at him in dismay. Had the Ring truly began working on him at the Council of Elrond, here in the heart of Imladris?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lord Elrond exchange a significant look with Mithrandir, but my eyes were focused solely on Boromir himself. I knew that, in the end, the Ring had managed to take over Boromir for a short while, and while I had hoped that Lord Elrond's power in Imladris would be enough to shield us all, I knew now that that wasn't the case. The One Ring had been forged to be stronger than even the Three Rings together, and although Vilya was the mightiest of the Three, alone it could not stand against the power of the One Ring.
Boromir's fingers hovered ever closer to the Ring. I stiffened. Please, interfere! I silently begged Lord Elrond. Don't let him –
Lord Elrond had apparently had enough. "Boromir!" he said, rising suddenly.
Mithrandir stood suddenly. "Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." His voice was suddenly no longer the steady, mirth-filled voice of the Istari I had come to know, but suddenly harsh and dark. I shrank away from him.
The sky darkened as the voice thundered the words. Lord Elrond brought his hand up to his forehead as though he was getting a headache. Boromir backed away toward his seat, his face filled with fear and awe. The Elves murmured amongst themselves. I saw one of the blonde ones close his eyes and take a deep breath.
Lord Elrond turned to face Mithrandir as the words died away and the darkness slowly left. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris," he said, slowly letting his hand fall back down to his side as he sat back down.
"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West," Mithrandir said, facing the Men and glaring. I knew of what he spoke. He was saying, in effect, that if the Men allowed themselves to be so easily conquered by the Ring, Mordor would rule Gondor and all those kingdoms in no time.
"The Ring is altogether evil." Giving Boromir one last scathing glance, Mithrandir turned to resume his seat. I silently applauded his speech. Much as I disliked Boromir, neither did I wish for him and his countrymen to fall under the control of the Ring. Mithrandir's speech might be just what Boromir needed to shock him out of the spell of the Ring.
"It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor."
Or not. Apparently Boromir was not giving up without a fight. I bit my tongue, not trusting myself not to speak scathing words to this arrogant Man who believed himself better than even Mithrandir.
"Why not use this Ring?" he asked, letting his gaze fall upon the Elves.
Oh, let's think, I thought sarcastically. Maybe because it's got the blood of thousands on it. Or maybe because it makes people do things they wouldn't naturally do. Or maybe because it's downright evil! Is that a good enough reason?
"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!"
Oh, really? So you're telling me that Imladris and Lothlórien are only safe because of the vigilance of Men? Hah! I bet you don't even know what Lothlórien is, much less where it is, in order to "defend" it!
"Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy."
Over my dead body. If all of Gondor is as conceited as you, it's no wonder that Sauron pays you little heed as an enemy. Another thought then struck me with the force of a hurricane. And it would be no wonder that the stewards could so easily turn the common people against the Believers. Sadness welled up in me at that thought, but before I could really absorb and dwell on it, Boromir's next words inflamed the criticizing, impatient person within me.
"Let us use it against him!"
How? You can't even sit here without falling under its spell, much less put it on. My patience with Boromir was gone, as was my former sadness for my home. Oh, please, please, please, someone tell him to shut it! I begged silently. Thankfully, my request was granted moments after I thought it.
By Aragorn.
"You cannot wield it!" he objected, drawing Boromir's attention. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master." Aragorn's voice was calm, but it had a ring of passion to it that was somehow stronger than the ring in Boromir's had been.
Boromir turned to face Aragorn with an air of superiority. This air was reflected in his question. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" he asked, showing his disdain for Aragorn so openly that I longed to smack him on the head. It was all I could do not to shout that Aragorn was heir to the throne of Gondor, and was so much higher than Boromir.
But, thankfully, I didn't have to do it. Someone else did it for me. One of the blonde Elves from Mirkwood shot up from his seat at Boromir's words. "This is no mere Ranger," he said curtly, drawing Boromir's attention. The Elf's tone turned soft and reverent. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
Boromir slowly turned back to face Aragorn, shock clear in his face. "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"
Oh, you . . . Don't you get it? He's your king! Quit it with the superior air! I wanted to shout the words in his face, but restrained myself. If Aragorn could bear the words, then so could I.
But the Elf wasn't done. "And heir to the throne of Gondor," he concluded.
The effect was instantaneous. Frodo looked wide-eyed at his rescuer as murmurs spread through the Council. But Boromir wasn't as impressed. His glare shot daggers at Aragorn, who ignored him and looked past him to the Elf. "~Sit down, Legolas, ~" he said softly, gesturing with his hand.
Now it was my turn to stare at someone. I had known that the Prince of Mirkwood had been close to Aragorn, but I hadn't realized that they were that close! But my surprise soon turned to satisfaction. Aragorn is definitely a king. He draws more loyalty than you, I thought in satisfaction.
"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." Boromir returned to his seat, but not without having lost my respect completely. Glorfindel rested his hand on mine.
"~Relax, Estel, ~" he counseled quietly. "~Boromir can't do anything to Aragorn. ~"
I shot him a thankful glance before returning my attention to Lord Elrond, who had stood up once more. "You have only one choice," he announced, leaving us in suspense. "The Ring must be destroyed."
Boromir leaned against his chair with an exasperated air as murmurs spread throughout the Council once more. But apparently this time their patience had been worn thin.
"Then what are we waiting for?" one of the Dwarves growled. He stood, grabbing an axe.
Everything seemed to slow down at once. Lord Elrond, starting forward in warning. Mithrandir, reaching out a hand also in warning. Then the Dwarf slammed his axe down on the Ring.
The axe exploded in shards as the unfortunate Dwarf was hurled back in the air, landing with a groan of surprise. Dwarves stood in dismay, hurrying to help their downed kinsman.
Lord Elrond remained calm. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess."
I surveyed the Dwarf with surprise. It appears I'm to meet everyone who is to join the Fellowship. It's a pity that we aren't being introduced the polite, normal, safe way that doesn't have people glaring daggers at each other.
"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. One of you . . . must do this."
Dead silence reigned in the Council.
~ Boromir ~
"One does not simply walk into Mordor," I said shakily, drawing the Council's attention back to me. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is 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. It is folly."
The Elf from before rose again. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"
The Dwarf who had foolishly tried to destroy the Ring leaped up as well. "I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" he demanded.
I ignored the Dwarf. Before, the Elf had won our argument. He would not win this one. "And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"
"Enough!"