Hours, four full hours had passed since the discussion with Elrond and Gandalf.
Four hours, since Gandalf had performed his miracle and Cortana had been saved from a very torturous death. There was still so little they understood about this world, so many questions left to answer. For every riddle solved, more immediately took their place. Chief and Cortana had been completely reserved in their studies of Middle Earth. For nearly every minute of 240 minutes, they had delved deeper and deeper into the languages, folklore and assorted knowledge of Elrond's study.
The various elves that came and went marvelled at the warrior man's thirst for knowledge. Chief was sitting at the balcony now, having demolished the contents of half a dozen books. His mind was pretty frazzled, so he was just reading casually now. The treatise currently in his hands was written in both Sindarin and English. Its title, The Art of War. Its author, Lenwe Calafalas. Chief had read Sun Tzu's original, and he was astounded by how similar the two were. All talk of logistics and the movements of men and equipment!
A pale blue markerlight laser came forth from a hard point on his helmet. Whilst Chief read an alternate version of the most important military book in history, Cortana was busy scanning an English-Sindarin thesaurus, streaming a digital copy directly into her CPU. She had already assimilated and mastered the other elf dialects, the common tongues of the dwarfs and men, the languages of the Easterlings and Southrons. Even the black speech of Mordor and the orcish dialects had been downloaded. The next time anyone spoke in a language that wasn't English, she would instantly convert the speech into it. Whenever Chief spoke, she could translate his speech into any one of these languages. It would be as though Chief had mastered every single language in Middle Earth.
The two inseparable companions had now finished their study. Cortana switched off the marker light system, data transfer complete. They were now finished. Putting the book with the others he had read, John relaxed back into his seat and started to watch the sun go down over the hills and dales. It was a sombre thought indeed to think that war was coming to this place. Yet war was indeed coming. The elves kept speaking of Evil lords, evil wizards and dark clouds forming around them. Where would it all lead? Victory? Massacre? Extinction? He snorted. It sounded far too familiar for his own comfort!
It was incredible really. How had these people allowed themselves to get into this situation? Conceited rulers and endless indecision. He'd analysed the kingdoms of men, dwarves and elves. He'd identified their cities and strongholds, building a rough picture of their military strength, size and efficiency.
Overall, the free peoples were strong. They had all the infrastructure required to wage total war, and yet they didn't. Why had none of these nations mobilised against Sauron yet if they'd felt threatened for decades? The elves were wise and highly perceptive. How had they not figured out what was happening before it had been too late? A pre-emptive strike could have ended all of this. Why had they not acted when they had the chance? It appeared that an immortal life bred bad habits. Apathy and chronic indecision.
Cortana had realised this as well. He could recall what she had said earlier about the state of affairs.
"The free peoples have many captains, but their enemies have many generals. Outgunned, outnumbered and out maneuverered. This is not a war that they can win. That's why this whole business with the ring is so important, it's one of the only advantages they have."
Chief turned his head around to stare at the wonder of the Rivendell valley once more. It was true. The enemy held all the cards. There were men and dwarves currently residing here, he had seen many of them enter during his meeting not too long ago. Important and influential figures had gathered to decide on something important. A rudimentary council, as it were. Yet despite this, Chief sensed it wasn't enough.
He'd lived through a worse but similar period to what was coming. He knew how this was going to play out. The free peoples had left it too little too late and they all knew it, he'd seen it in their eyes. There was still hope however. On paper the Human-Covenant war had been unwinnable, and yet humanity had survived it. What this world needed right now was heroism, a bold and stupid move that had near to no guarantee of success. There was still a chance of saving these dwarves, humans and elves. There was still hope.
Perhaps everything did hinge on the ring of power.
After a moment of blissful silence, which after all these long years Chief was starting to learn to enjoy, Aragorn appeared over the road below. When he saw Chief, he broke into a broad smile. Aragorn was genuinely pleased to see the Spartan again! So was Cortana. She had a plan! Unbeknownst to John, she was about to play a dirty trick on him! It would begin as soon as Chief would speak to Aragorn.
"Good evening!" The ranger greeted him. John had sighed immediately, hoping that this encounter would just go well.
"Good evening!" He had also replied, nearly falling out of his seat when he heard what was coming from his loud speaker. Cortana, without his permission, had translated his greeting into Sindarin Elvish! Aragorn meanwhile, was overjoyed when he heard the friendly greeting of "Vanya lome!" come his way, and he replied In kind!
"Uma, eithel ta ikotane nia! E' va nyë lome cildei anann lu" (Yes, it is indeed kind ally! I have not seen a fairer evening in such long a time!).
To infuriate him even more, Cortana hadn't translated the elfish back! John had to push his understanding of the language to its limits to understand what Aragorn had said. Something awoke in him at that moment. His frustration with Cortana for doing this to him suddenly gave way to...deviance. Innocent, almost child-like. At that moment, he made a promise to himself. He would get back at her somehow!
"Anyway, Chief" Aragorn continued, friendly greetings now exchanged. "If you have free time, I would like to show you something. Please John, follow me!" He said with warmth. John was used to following orders without question. Some habits you just never break! He marched over to the ranger, a man he saw with the same respect as a superior officer.
"What is it sir?" He asked him, curious as to what would happen next.
"Just come with me John. It'll be obvious enough when we get to the armouries. I just want to show you something!" The ranger then started to walk away, down towards the valley below. Without saying a word, John followed after him.
They reached the bottom of the valley, and Chief looked out across the scene before him. There were elven warriors here, warriors of all description. There was more than an armoury down here, this was a training glade! Elves were sparring and training, with shields, swords and bows. They were performing weapons drills, honing and perfecting their techniques against straw dummies, and were duelling each other, pushing each other's abilities to their limits. The duels were simulating live combat. Some elves were fighting in pairs. Others in larger groups, engaging in graceful and sweeping melees.
Unsurprisingly, it was all very similar to John. It almost felt homely! All that was missing was some sort of fitness training, something that seemed absent from the elves combat repertoire. Apparently, as he had learned from his study on the free peoples and their enemies, elves didn't need it. They relied on their natural fitness alone, a natural fitness that was many times above that of a healthy, active human's. Perhaps an exceptional elf was even capable of giving a Spartan's legendary endurance a run for her or his money. Time would tell.
While Chief was watching the elves drill, analysing their training regime and fighting styles, Strider was already inside the armoury. Chief left the elves to it, and ducking under the low hanging door frame, joined him inside. He couldn't help but notice that there was a youthful glint in the ranger's eyes.
"Stay right where you are Chief, I'm just going to get something out of the back!" He started walking away, and disappeared behind a sea of well-ordered crates, pikes, armour and sword racks.
"What is it you want to show me?" John asked him, as the man started rummaging around somewhere out of sight.
"Just wait!" Strider called back. Chief did as he was told, and waited there, patiently. Still, he was wondering. What could possibly be of interest to him out here?
A few moments later, Aragorn came back through the armoury, grinning widely, and holding some very stocky looking device. Struggling a little with the weight of the object. It was beautifully finished and crafted.
"It's a big crossbow!" Cortana called out, stating the obvious. Indeed it was though. Any bigger, Strider would have been holding a ballistae. Chief began to explore the weapon with keen interest, he had never had the opportunity to examine such an archaic weapons system before.
"It's an elven experiment, and the most complicated device I've ever seen. It has two firing mechanisms. The first mechanism fires single, powerful shots. It's fixed with a high strength steel cable, not sinew or rope. It has a massive draw weight, and can fire a bolt with extraordinary power. Its draw weight is so large that an elf requires a special winch to pull the draw cable back and prime it. However you should not have any problem with it, you could easily use your hands to do it."
Aragorn handed hefted the weapon over, and was eager to see what Chief would make of it. He took hold of it without question, and as the weapon was eased out of his hands, Aragorn couldn't help but feel wonder, and a hint of jealousy, at how easily he held the weighty object.
Chief was quite impressed. Such a sophisticated weapon for the time. It had good ergonomics, and the crossbow felt good in his hands. "It's remarkably light. About thirty pounds I'd guess."
"Yes, the elves have skill with building things so light" Aragorn replied, yet still had more to tell. "Now, take a look at the bottom of the weapon. Just as I said before, there is a separate, secondary firing mechanism" Chief flipped the weapon over, and was surprised when he saw the second section of the weapon. It really was amazingly sophisticated for something of pre-industrial standard.
"The secondary firing mechanism of the crossbow is very remarkable. The separate actions of stringing the bow, loading a bolt, and firing can be accomplished with a simple hand motion. Everything is achieved automatically, simply by pulling the lever at the back. As easy to operate as a water pump! You can see that it is attached to a wheel and camber." Chief was very impressed, there was a magazine-like compartment jutting out from the centre of the mechanism, holding the bolts inside the hopper in pairs.
"As the lever as pulled back, the bowstring is drawn, a bolt is loaded into the table and the weapon is fired. Pushed forward, the lever grabs the bowstring and repeats the process. The weapon must be turned, with the bolt hopper facing upwards for it to work." Chef couldn't quite believe it, but he was holding what was, in principle, a semi-automatic weapon. Yet, Aragorn still wasn't finished.
"The hopper is loaded with separate, secondary hoppers. Little portable canisters that hold twelve individual bolts. I'll show you one, it's in my pocket!" If the weapons previous principles had impressed him before, this was nothing compared to what he saw next. Strider revealed the so called 'bolt canisters'. What the ranger was holding in his hands was indistinguishable from a magazine. A primitive version of course, made of wood and holding crossbow bolts, but the revolutionary concept was right there.
Then Cortana piped up, suddenly. She had figured something out. Something remarkable! "Chief, you won't believe this. But I think those bolt canisters have near identical dimensions to your assault rifle clips. It's just sheer coincidence! They might be compatible with your armour holsters. Give it a go!" Chief held out his hand, his new crossbow pointing right up.
"May I?" He asked politely. "Go ahead." Aragorn replied, giving him the 'magazine'.
Now it was John's turn to amaze him. Chief opened up a pouch on his thigh, and guided the canister towards it. It immediately slid right in, an almost perfect fit. Then the gel layer inside the holster embraced the canister, holding it tight. Aragorn looked at him, a little stunned. It was Chief's turn to do some explaining.
"You will be surprised to hear that I've used similar things to these before" He began to tell him. "My armour was designed to hold things like that bolt holder. A Spartan is a mobile artillery piece, ranged weaponry makes up his armament rather than close combat tools. Equip an army with such things, and you revolutionise warfare forever." He couldn't help himself, it was such an obvious thing to say!
Aragorn wasn't sure what to make of all this. Chief was talking about something that went beyond his understanding. But, he could understand the merits of such tactics...very, very interesting. This was why he liked John so much. Something remarkable always happened when you were around him!
"It would seem that the weapon was built for you Chief! It's a new creation of the elves, and it still needs battle testing. I've got another canister and a quiver for the larger bolts. Think you're up to the challenge, Spartan?"
Live combat testing? Chief would gladly rise to the occasion. "Certainly sir" He answered simply.
Aragorn was beaming. "I thought you might agree to it. Now, the practice range is just outside. In the glade beyond that we saw, where the warriors and sentinels were training. You're going to have to get to know the weapon anyway if you're going to use it..." Chief thought about the proposition for a moment.
"Go on! Give it a…'shot' Chief!" John barely responded to Cortana's terrible joke, but the weakest twitch of a smile occurred for a brief moment.
"Let's try it out" He finally replied. Aragorn gave a short, throaty chuckle as they walked into the training glade. It was quite unusual, there was still so little John knew about this man. His origins, his motivations, nothing! All in good time, they weren't quite squad mates yet after all. John was just content that Aragorn trusted him. He didn't need to know the ranger's origins to do the same.
As the two men continued to walk towards the firing range, they couldn't help but marvel at the skills of the warriors around them. The elves certainly displayed remarkable talent and dexterity. They displayed it throughout their forces, not just in isolated regions of their military.
He had always thought that the sight of humans training, except those of the best OST's, was rather gaudy, and painfully awkward to watch. Humans were naturally clumsy, heavy footed. Their movements were always basic, and quite honestly, sluggish. These elves were anything but! They were remarkably nimble, fast and elegant. They were still inferior by Spartan standards, but by human standards, they were remarkable. He didn't want to think what they'd be capable of if given the same resources the UNSC had at their disposal.
Those elves closest to Chief and Aragorn looked towards the two humans, stopping what they were doing, gazing at the remarkable men in their midst. Then another elf approached them both. Wearing highly ornate elven armour, with a sharp turquoise cloak and all manner of other finery. He had a heavy looking elven blade at his side. Curved, with a two handed grip, reminding Chief of a Katana, or the Heyabusha sword used by some Spartans. Something in the elf's eyes told Chief that he did not fear him. Misguided confidence? Possibly.
He bore a flawless posture, tall and straight. His hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless. Filled also with joy. His eyes were bright and clean, yet also set with a hint of great wisdom. His hands bore a great and effortless strength. He was also one of the few elves who actually went by a strict routine of physical exercise and core fitness training. Quite unusual, but his strong gait and powerful looking form stood out amongst his fellow warriors. This elven officer was possibly as close as Middle Earth got to possessing a supersoldier.
Then, the magnificent warrior spoke to him and Aragorn. "Welcome to our training grounds, guests of Elrond. I am Glorfindel, general and warrior, and at your humble service. By the orders of Elrond, I lead a force of many thousands that protects the elven world from the forces of evil. You are both most honoured here. I see that you have brought weapons. Do you wish to train with my warriors?" He asked with a hint of desire. Glofindel's voice was also deep, but as easy as music on the ear. Not gravelly like John's.
Perhaps the general wanted to duel with John? Most unwise. Chief had accidentally killed marines during training exercises, as a teenager, without armour! Aragorn came over to him, placing a hand on the shoulder of his old friend. Glorfindel did the same, it was the customary greeting of every elf who shared a closeness. "I would be delighted to duel with your guardians Glorfindel, as may John. Yet I believe right now he is going to test that crossbow you told me about."
The wise and ageless elf looked John up and down, guessing at his weight, judging the strength of his armour, guessing at his speed...he knew his conclusions were all wrong. He had heard about the feats of this warrior, force unlike any he had encountered. He wasn't sure that any being from any of the free peoples, bar one of the Miar themselves, could challenge him and hope to be victorious.
"Your reputation precedes you Spartan. I will be intrigued to see what you are capable of with my own eyes. Go to the targets over there, near the evergreens. The weapon you hold has sights that aid in aiming, you will need to-" "-Align the sights in order to compliment my aim" Chief finished for him.
Glorfindel was a little surprised that the Spartan already knew all this. Aragorn broke in, so that he could explain why. "Chief told me that he has use weapons like these before. The bolt holders for the lower firing mechanism fitted pouches on his armour."
Glorfindel realised that the Spartan's people were far more advanced in war than the elves. He knew now that the future of war would be found on the iron sight of a crossbow, not at the hilt of a sword. A shame in many ways. Perhaps such a system would act as a powerful deterrent against those aware of its power? Just a theory, nothing more.
"Well then Spartan, I am eager to see what you will be capable of! You may start as soon as you're ready!" Chief strode up to the firing point on the range. There was a young elf training with a longbow. When John came to stand next to him, the elf turned in shock at the warrior towering above him. Chief also turned, his faceless visor staring blindly back at the elf. The elven apprentice simply replied with a nod of his head. Chief nodded back. Reassured, the young elf continued in his practice.
Chief examined the range, and the weapon before him. He had never used a bow in his life. The target was a thick circular wooden shield, with a large green spot painted at its centre. He guessed it was exactly 135 metres away, give or take a few centimetres perhaps. Chief took a crouching firing stance, and aimed the cross hairs right at the 'bull's-eye'.
He primed the bolt. And was easily able to pull back the heavy draw string. "Chief, remember that it's not a gun your holding" Cortana reminded, sensing that his angle was slightly wrong. "The bolt will immediately start to fall as soon as it is released. You'll have to compensate."
Chief had now aligned the sight. He pulled the first bolt from the quiver strapped to his back. He relaxed, timed his heartbeat, synchronized with his breathing, and pulled the trigger...oh yes! Due to the weapon's complex nature, a hair pin module would have been ineffective. The elves had developed the first ever trigger!
The only issue was that Chief still had no way of predicting the rate of the bolts fall. There was only one way to find out! The first bolt loosed from the weapon. There was no re-coil. Crossbows are different to guns, and pull their users forwards as the drawstring slams against the outskirts of the structure.
The bolt accelerated forwards. It did not slide about inside the grooves of the weapons 'barrel', nor did the drawstring fly up or down. All was precise engineering, the craftsman's hands guided by the perfect eye of an elf armourer. It was only a practice shot, and the bolt struck half a stride above the spot.
"Not bad Spartan!" Glorfindel remarked. "For your first shot, not bad. Surely, you can do better?" Chief primed the weapon again. Drew another bolt, placed it down. Relaxed, breathed, and fired. The bolt flew fast and true, and struck a spot just two inches below the bull's-eye. He was adapting well.
"Close Chief! I think you might have this next one!" Cortana replied. Chief controlled his breathing, breathing in and out, slowing his heart rate. He primed, drew, stole his breath once more, and fired. The shot hit the bull's-eye, in the centre. Perfect.
Every single shot after that hit the target within the bull's-eye, every shot from the powerful weapon lifting the targets tripod onto its back most leg. As Chief launched his final bolt, he stood, and holstered the giant crossbow on his back, the metal binding to the magnetic hard point installed there.
"Excellent shooting Spartan! One of the greatest display of shooting from a human I have ever seen. If you had been an elf, I would have seen you as one of the better amongst my ranks!" Glorfindel had only praise for Chief. "You aim impeccably. But what about your close combat skills?" Chief paused to think of an appropriate response.
"Good enough to keep me alive Sir!" He confidently replied. Glorfindel smiled, if a little disappointed that he wouldn't get to see him in action himself. He'd sensed the Spartans meaning behind his words. "Well then, it has been a remarkable pleasure meeting you. Perhaps one day we could train together, you and I? I must take my leave. There are enemies massing against the elves. War is coming...I have such little time. Good luck Spartan, know that if ever you are in need, the elves will always have a place for you!" Chief couldn't help but smile. These people were so gracious, so formal!
The elves were truly a good race. John was at an unusual position now, a unique position. He understood something about the universe that no other human back home did. That there was an alien race out here who had not brought harm against humanity. It was a revolutionary moment in the Spartan's mind.
"Save one hobbit ring bearer, and everyone loves you!" Cortana suddenly interrupted. Humour aside, she actually did sum it up quite well. "Thank you Glorfindel, good luck!" Chief saluted the elf, who shot him a raised eyebrow, but then responded with a bow. Turning, he strode off towards a tent near to the edge of the glade. Chief could see a table, possibly a map, and a couple of elves wearing full battle plate. He spotted a single word on its surface: Dol Guldor.
Best to leave them to it!
Aragorn was coming back. He had just finished extending farewell to four elven warriors which he knew from days of past. He had just bested two of them in a duel, for 'old times' sake'! He was grinning widely again, and John knew he was up to something. The crossbow, the firing range, he was starting to understand this side to him.
"You're up to something. What is it?" John asked. He was genuinely curious. He knew whatever Aragorn was planning, it involved him. If he liked it, he would gladly cooperate.
"There is a meeting John. A gathering later this day, not long from now. No one is permitted to be there who hasn't been invited...and yet I think there will be a purpose for you in the meeting." Chief knew that Aragorn was short on time. Aragorn was scheming something, but he needed the details of said scheme quickly!
"How does this involve me?" He asked, wishing the ranger would just get right to the point. Aragorn turned and pointed to a short tower beyond them, just a few stories tall.
"See that weather station, upon the top most floor?" He asked John.
"Of course" John replied.
"It is the square below where the meeting is to take place. I want you to stand guard at that tower. Listen into the meeting. Watch its proceedings. There are many grudges held by many of the guests who will be attending, especially between the elves and dwarfs. Words may be said, arguments blown up. In the worst case a full blown fight could break out. I believe that such a thing is inevitable. I want you to analyse the events proceedings, and if things get beyond control, I want you to intervene."
That was it? Chief wondered. It was that simple? "Understood" The Spartan said, with a hint of surprise in his voice. "What is so special about this meeting that I keep hearing about?"
Aragorn's smile flickered a little. The question had brought him back to the grim reality of the world around him. "It's a very rare event, to be sure. A gathering of all the races of the West. Men, Elves, and Dwarves will all be present. Leaders, their envoys and their routines will be surrounding a large stone pedestal. Elrond shall survey them, and this council that he has gathered, shall decide the fate of the three peoples and the fate of the one ring." Aragorn explained.
"Rare indeed" mused the Chief. "I will intervene if things become too heated" He answered.
Aragorn's grin then came back. "Very good Chief! And if, and 'when' you intervene, make sure you make an impressive entrance. Make sure that you get their attention!" Chief just nodded in agreement.
"Thank you John. Now, the meeting is about to begin. Go to the tower, good luck!" And with that, he was gone.
John stood there for a moment, reflecting on all that he had learned today: Elrond, Gandalf, all those damn books! As he stood there, Cortana realised that her Spartan was dawdling. This Rivendell was having a bad influence on him! "Aragorn gave you instructions Chief. Best do as he said. This meeting is extremely important for the future of everyone in Middle Earth." Cortana was right. He began walking towards the weather station…
Elrond, for all his knowledge, for all he had seen and all he had experience, couldn't help but feel apprehensive. He was sure that this meeting would head in a single direction, into disaster.
Everyone was arranged now, all men and Dwarves, and the envoy from Mirkwood, he hadn't known if they had received his message. Only one guest was missing...and here he comes now! Aragorn, looking a little worse for wear he might add! Had the ranger visited Glofindel's camp before coming here? Elrond couldn't help but sigh in amused irritation. There was something else as well, something else to Aragorn today. Something that only Elrond noticed. Aragorn, the epitome of ease, seemed slightly…could it be? Nervous?
His eyes kept looking around at various pillars and buildings, as if he was expecting something to be hiding there. An eavesdropping hobbit perhaps? Irrelevant if there was, it would not affect things! Elrond stood. No time to dwell on such trivial things. There was work to be done. He took a deep, almost dreading breath, and called the meeting to order...