Thank you for the favourites and the follows, guys, I really appreciate it!
And LadyCurry: thank you so so much, I'm really happy you like it so much! Your review is very encouraging and lovely and aw thank you. Also, there may or may not be a Legomance here *winkwinknudgenudgecopiesyourhappygrin*
Here's the next installment! Enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: Same shit, different day - I own nothing.
The next morning Maethoriel went with Aragorn to the Council. The meeting place was a secluded porch at the back of Elrond's house, situated near enough to the river that the constant sound of bubbling water met their ears, accompanied by other bird songs and the wind brushing through the nearby trees. The sunlight shone down upon the porch, illuminating it in a warm and comforting glow; but the atmosphere was bound to change when the Council began.
Elrond sat in a large throne-like chair behind a stone table, a few Elves on his sides, with a roof of autumn leaves above them. In front of the table, seats were laid out in a semi-circle, following the curve of the edge of the porch. Aragorn went to sit on the right with other Men, and Maethoriel went to the left side to sit at the end next to Bilbo. Between her and Aragorn sat the Dwarves, Elves, Gandalf, Frodo, and Bilbo.
Bilbo was quick to greet Maethoriel warmly, and then introduced her to Frodo - who seemed a little awestruck among such a variety of 'Big Folk'. Maethoriel both pitied and admired the young hobbit, for having to go through such danger with little knowledge of what he was up against. And to have suffered such a life-threatening wound, only to display a level of willpower few Men could rival, was truly extraordinary. However, Maethoriel had a feeling that his journey was not yet over.
Allowing her gaze to pass over the members of the Council, she noticed that most were already looking at her, and they quickly averted their eyes whenever she caught them watching. One of them, although having been caught watching already, pleasantly surprised Maethoriel when he did not look away. Instead he offered her a respectful tip of his head and a smile. He had long, straight, golden hair that seemed to glow in the sunlight, and bright, clear blue eyes. His skin was pale and unblemished sitting upon high cheekbones, and his figure seemed to be tall and lean. He was clothed in a shimmering silver cloak and dark trousers tucked into dark, high boots. Maethoriel knew who he was: Prince Legolas, son of King Thranduil. She had often watched over him as he learned to use his bow, with which he was now one. He had been so graceful and talented with the weapon that she had taken to training in that area - it was why she had a bow and arrow of her own back in her room.
She returned his gesture, bowing her head respectfully to him with the corners of her lips lifting into a pleased smile. She was glad that someone in the Council other than Aragorn and Bilbo seemed comfortable with her and willing to approach her. Bilbo seemed to have noticed the exchange and tapped her arm, leaning in closer. "Do you know that elf?" he asked.
"I know of him," she replied quietly. "But I have not spoken to him yet. Why do you ask?"
Bilbo smiled secretively and said, "Oh, no reason." Maethoriel looked at him suspiciously, unable to suppress her amused smile. He noticed and grinned at her. "He seems to like you."
Maethoriel shook her head with a small chuckle. "He does not know me, Bilbo."
"That doesn't mean he cannot be interested in you," he replied. He glanced away for a millisecond. "He's still looking at you now."
"Many of the Council have been watching me, my friend," she said. "You forget how rare it is for an Emberling to visit a world."
Bilbo left the subject alone, although he muttered something under his breath about being stubborn and oblivious. Maethoriel smiled in amusement, paying no heed to his words; but when she looked up, she did notice that Legolas was gazing at her still.
Elrond stood then, now that all had arrived, and the Council went quiet as all attention was focused on him. "Strangers of distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. 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." He paused for a moment, looking at all of those seated around him individually. "I am aware that most of you are unfamiliar with the entire history of the Ring, and so this tale shall be told from the beginning even to this present. And I will begin the tale, though others shall end it."
The Council listened attentively to the making and history of the Ring, and Maethoriel noticed that some seemed to be learning more about the evil hung around Frodo's neck. Although she knew the Ring's history, having seen it unfold, she too listened with interest, for it was a good tale, despite the gloomy atmosphere. After Elrond had finished, Boromir took the opportunity to speak of his city's troubles.
"Give me leave, Master Elrond," he began, "first to say more of Gondor, where I come from. For few, I deem, know of our deeds." He stood and looked around the Council with wide, enthusiastic eyes full of passion for his people and his city. "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. Only from Rohan now will any men ride to us when we call. The enemy has driven us from Osgiliath, and although they had more in numbers than us, that was not how we were defeated. A power was there that we have not felt before. Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled."
Maethoriel noticed Frodo stiffen in the corner of her eye, and she knew that he had figured out what power Boromir was speaking of. The Black Riders, the Ringwraiths, the Nazgûl - terrible and dangerous, and very powerful.
"A hundred and ten days I have journeyed all alone," Boromir continued. "I come to ask for counsel and the unravelling of hard words. For on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came often to him again, and once to me. In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and I heard a voice crying:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.
Of these words we could undersand little, and long have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of which many had heard, but few knew where it lay."
Aragorn stood then, walking towards the table in front of Elrond. "And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you," he said. He brought out the sword and placed it on the table in fragmented pieces. "Here is the Sword that was Broken!"
"And what does a Ranger have to do with Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked, an underlying hint of hostility in his tone.
"This is no mere Ranger," Legolas stood, glaring at Boromir challengingly. "He is Aragorn son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
Boromir looked back at the rugged man. "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"
"And heir to the throne of Gondor."
"Then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!" Frodo suddenly exclaimed, jumping up.
"It does not belong to either of us," Aragorn said. "The Ring answers to Sauron alone."
"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo," Elrond said, sweeping his arm towards the table as the two men sat down again.
The little hobbit took out the Ring and gently placed it upon the table - although Maethoriel noticed with worry that he seemed reluctant to do so - before he sat heavily in his chair.
Boromir gazed at the golden Ring in wonder and amazement. "The Halfling," he muttered. "Is the Doom of Minas Tirith come at last, then?"
"The words were not 'the doom of Minas Tirith'," Aragorn reminded him. "But doom and great deeds are indeed at hand."
Boromir suddenly looked as if he had thought of the greatest plan. "A doom that could be prevented," he said, standing once more. "Why not use the Ring? Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy, let us use it against him!"
Gandalf stood then, holding his staff and his hand high as he chanted in a foul language. "Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." A darkness had overcome the warmth in Rivendell, and far off there was the sound of rolling thunder. Elrond and the other Elves seemed pained by the words, while the others felt a great sense of foreboding. Maethoriel felt her heart sink; but she was not as badly affected as the others, because she had heard the language spoken often before. Boromir sat with a startled expression, as the whispers emanating from the Ring faded away.
"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris," Elrond said, with an edge of irritation and exhaustion.
"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elond," Gandalf said, seemingly weary now. "For the black speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West. The Ring is altogether evil," he finished, looking specifically at Boromir. He stood staring then at the Ring. "Those were the words I found when I burned the Ring. In the Common Tongue they say: One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them." He turned away and sat once more, letting his words sink in.
"We shall continue with the Ring's history," Elrond said, glad to put the language of Mordor behind him.
Gandalf spoke of his journey tracking and interrogating the creature Gollum, with the help of Aragorn and the Elves in Mirkwood, to which Legolas replied that Gollum had managed to escape their hold, and had seemed to have had help. The news was disappointing; but there was not much they could do. And so Gandalf then went on to speak of Saruman's betrayal, which caused many to feel grief and dispair. Frodo claimed to have seen Gandalf when he was stood upon Saruman's tower, just before he was rescued by a mighty eagle.
"Bilbo," Elrond encouraged after Gandalf had finished, "I believe it is time for your part in the history of the Ring."
Bilbo stood and told the Council of his journey, his encounter with Gollum, and how the Ring benefited him in the troubles he faced afterwards. For many this was enlightening, for they had not heard of this 'Bilbo Baggins' nor his adventures with the Dwarves. After Bilbo, Frodo told his part in the story - he seemed less comfortable in front of a crowd than his uncle.
For a while no one spoke, and Elrond's gaze wandered the faces of the Council. When he met Maethoriel's eyes, she nodded. Then he stood. "You have only one choice: the Ring must be destroyed."
"What are we waiting for?" the dwarf, Gimli, asked gruffly as he stood and took up his axe. With a loud battle cry, he stepped forward and brought his weapon down upon the golden Ring. The axe shattered and he was thrown backwards; but the Ring took no damage at all.
Maethoriel, Bilbo and Gandalf all looked to Frodo when he gasped and brought a hand to his forehead. The Ring had taken a hold of him - it was astonishing that he still had the ability to resist its power after being in contact with it for so long.
"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. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence among the Council members. Finally Boromir broke it. "One does not simply walk into Mordor," he said. "Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is an 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."
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas snapped, standing again. "The Ring must be destroyed!" he told the Council.
"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli retorted.
"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Boromir stood, although he was ignored by the other two.
"I would rather die than see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli exclaimed, standing.
Most of the Elves - save Elrond and those at his sides - jumped from their seats and began quarreling with the Dwarves, followed closesly by almost every other member of the Council. Maethoriel, Gandalf, Aragorn, and the hobbits stayed seated - until suddenly Gandalf stood too to argue loudly with Boromir. Maethoriel frowned at the chaotic scene before her, knowing fully well that such heated arguments would do nothing to solve their problems.
"Frodo?" she heard Bilbo ask quietly.
Turning to the hobbits, she saw the younger staring fearfully at the Ring, his breathing heavy. Then a determined expression overtook his face, and he looked to those arguing, pushing himself out of his chair. Maethoriel's heart sunk. "I will take it." Her eyes closed, and she listened as the members continued to argue. "I will take it!" he exclaimed louder. The noise died down, and Maethoriel opened her eyes to see everyone turn to look at the hobbit. "I will take the Ring to Mordor," he announced definitely. "Though... I do not know the way."
"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, for as long as it is yours to bear," Gandalf said, walking behind the hobbit with a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will," Aragorn said as he strode forwards to kneel by Frodo. "You have my sword."
"And you have my bow," Legolas added as he too joined Frodo.
"And my axe," Gimli declared roughly, standing by Legolas' side.
"You carry the fate of us all, little one," Boromir said as he walked forward. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."
Maethoriel stood then, and all eyes turned to her. She walked around the side of the group until she stood before Frodo. "I too shall lend my aid, Frodo son of Drogo, wherever and whenever it is needed. You have my word: I will do everything I can to protect you."
As she went to stand by Aragorn, there was a sudden shout from behind the group. "Hey!" Sam rushed forward, underneath Aragorn's arm, and stood defiantly next to Frodo with his arms crossed. "Mr Frodo's not going anywhere without me," he stated.
"No, indeed, it is hardly possible to seperate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not," Elrond smiled, causing Sam to blush slightly.
"Oi! We're coming too!" Merry exclaimed as he and Pippin both ran out from behind pillars to stand by their fellow hobbits. "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"
"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of... mission... quest... thing," Pippin added, nodding to himself.
"Well, that rules you out, Pip," Merry stated.
"Ten companions," Elrond mused. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."
"Right," Pippin grinned. "Where are we going?"