"Merry Christmas!" Was the collective greeting the three women received as they walked in from the stables. Fiona was bundled up in her thickest clothes, but Ithilwen and her mother did not seem phased by the frigid temperatures. It was a special occasion for all, despite the obvious holiday; another successful night was had by North, and the children of the world had received their Christmas wishes.
"It is good to see you," the man in red greeted. Flanking North were two yetis and a taller elf unlike the diminutive ankle-gnawers that strung themselves up with lights.
"Thank you for having us," Ithilwen's mother said, bowing her head in acknowledgement of the Holiday Figure. "It is truly an honor to be invited to the North Pole."
North shrugged it off, not expecting the formality from the oldest woman. "We are glad to have you three. It isn't every day we have elves visit that are older than Bernard here!" Said elf sputtered uncharacteristically while Ithilwen and Fiona laughed. "These are my workers, Phil and Dyll. It is secret to success; yetis are much more efficient, but elves help where they can." Realizing his blunder, North began to backtrack. "I mean no offense, of course! You are very different from my elves." At that moment, Ithilwen saw one licking a large cookie and had to suppress a laugh. "Now," he said, "How about I give tour of workshop?"
After the tour was over, Morwen and North retired to his office to speak of business, leaving Ithilwen, Fiona, and Bernard to their own devices. Bernard led them to the kitchen for lunch, where the resident chef ushered them to a booth and took down their orders. Bernard looked over at Ithilwen, who was folding her napkin into random patterns.
"I am sorry about what North said earlier," he told Ithilwen. "North... tends to forget. He is unlike any of the Santas that I've served in the past, that's for sure."
Ithilwen shook her head. "It is not what he said, Bernard. It is the whole matter of the situation that bothers me."
"You do not like being in this realm?" Fiona asked.
"I do, but only for a few reasons, and two of those are you guys," she said, accepting the cup of cocoa that the yeti had handed her upon his return.
"What else do you like about it?" Bernard now asked.
Ithilwen snorted. "The question should be what it is that I do not like; I find that one an easier question to answer." She took a sip from the hot drink, savoring it as it slid down her throat before she continued. "A majority of the people are quite rude, and the different societies find more cause to go to war over insignificant reasons than to come to an agreement."
"But you have to admit the technology is a perk," Fiona cut in.
"The parts that I can understand, and that has only been with your assistance Fiona. It seems that no one cares about anyone truly anymore, and would rather correspond through technology rather than face to face or a letter. The world has become materialistic, and the trend of striving to have the best overshadows the will to do good for others. Lately it seems as if I have only seen the goodness in others come about in large numbers when there is an event that has occurred at a national level."
Bernard looked to Fiona. "She's got a point," to which the sprite nodded gravely.
"I know that this must sound harsh of me, and I do not wish you to think ill of me. I just miss what memories I have of Middle Earth. They were not many to begin with, but in my heart it will always be my home."
Fiona patted her friend's hand. "It is alright to let it out, you know. We can understand. If it makes you feel better Ithilwen, I only feel at home down there when I am with you and Mom. The North Pole is more of a home to me when I am not with either of you." She reached across the table to select a freshly baked cookie as she asked, "Do you think you will return to Middle Earth anytime soon? As in like, this century or something?"
Ithilwen had to laugh. "I do not know for certain. Naneth has told me that she has had premonitions of home that have not been what she was expecting."
"How do you mean? Was she having a vision of Middle Earth, or was it something like a dream that she had one night?"
"More like the former, from her description. Naneth told me once about a legend of the Nineteen Rings of Power-"
Having some familiarity with the Elvish lore, Fiona interrupted, "Does this relate to what she saw?" The more either talked of their culture, the more confusing it became to keep everything organized.
"Yes, of course," Ithilwen said distractedly. "Naneth told me that there were nineteen rings of power that were forged by the Gwaith-i-Mírdain in Eregion. Well this group of people were renowned for their craftsmanship through the lands. During the Second Age, a stranger approached and taught them more, allowing them to expand their repertoire. I was told that Gil-galad and my uncle Elrond had encouraged the Mírdain to ignore this strangers' comings, but the warnings went unheeded. Fast forward roughly three centuries and the first Ring of Power was made. Not long after this, these elves and the stranger made sixteen more."
"I thought that you said it was nineteen," Fiona commented.
"I'm getting to that," Ithilwen said, rolling her eyes. "The one that I think Naneth called Celebrimbor took this knowledge and made three additional rings without the stranger's assistance: Narya, Nenya, and Vilya. But here is where the story turns - the stranger had a secret he had been keeping as well, that he was the dark lord Sauron, and he had forged a ring himself within the fires of Mount Doom."
"That makes twenty." Bernard said, doing the math.
"Actually, that ring was unknown to everyone but Sauron. It was called the One Ring, or the Ruling Ring, with which he put his own power into to control the other nineteen. But since he was not aware of the additional three, when he put the ring on, the three Elves that had been assigned the additions were aware of what he had done and removed theirs, breaking the bond.
A war was waged on Eregion, and Celebrimdor was tortured and killed. Sauron took nine of the rings and gave them to the kings of Men, who became these awful creatures called Ringwraiths because they had succumbed to the power bestowed on them. Seven went to the Dwarves, but they were resistant to the magic of his control. At the end of the Second Age, Sauron was defeated, and a man called Isildur cut the One Ring from his finger with the shards of his father's broken sword."
"Why do I get the feeling that is not the end of the story?" the arch elf asked with dread.
"I am almost done, just hang in there. Anyway, My uncle Elrond fought in the battle against the Dark Lord, and journeyed into Mount Doom with Isildur to destroy the One Ring. However, greed fell upon the man, and he kept the ring. This would come at a heavy price, and he was shot down in the River Anduin, a betrayed man drunk with the idea of power. No one ever located the One Ring, and it was believed that the ring was lost and forgotten..."
Fiona stopped stirring her cocoa. "Mom doesn't think it is gone, does she?"
Ithilwen nodded. "She told me, and this was when you had to fly to Sacramento, that she believed that the Ring would return to the forefront of everyone's minds."
"What about these other rings?" Bernard asked. "Are they lost to the world as well?"
"Not that I know of. Their original owners could have passed them down to the next worthy person, but if someone were to find the One Ring and take control of it, they would have control over a large portion of Middle Earth without having to claim land through battle. These rings were given to High lords of the races who were deemed worthy of their power."
"Not good then," Fiona muttered. "What do you think will happen?"
The elleth shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "I do not know for certain. I fear the worst though, and that would be open war on Middle Earth. Naneth believes that war has already begun."
"What will they do?" Bernard asked, leaning forward.
"The only way to end this is for the ring to be destroyed, but it will take someone of great heart to bear the burden of that temptation and not give in on the journey to Mordor."
It was a solemn day for departure. The Fellowship were gathered about the gates of Rivendell, waiting for the last members to collect. Elves had come to gather around and offer their silent farewells to the travelers. The lord of Rivendell spoke calmly as he addressed the nine companions. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath, nor bond is laid to go further than you will. Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you."
The wizard shifted his weight on the wooden staff he carried. "The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer."
The small Hobbit named Frodo Baggins looked around at the gathering of Elves and the Fellowship before turning and passing through the gates of Rivendell, knowing that there was a great possibility that he would never set his gaze upon the lands again.
"Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?" he whispered to the wizard. The wizard sighed and smiled slightly at the question.
"Left."
A/N: Just a head's up if you didn't catch it, Morwen is Ithilwen's mother. Not very elvish, but I couldn't come up with anything better. Again, a short Middle-earth segment for the same reasons. This chapter had a chunk rewritten to flow better with the character setup I have written out, and if anyone is interested I can upload the original unaltered chapter as an AU later on. Also, that Bernard is who you think he is, if you've caught on. I've got a sidestory that I will upload when I get the last couple of chapters done that will explain it better. (Prepare for FEELS) So..does it looks as if Ithilwen is being laid out to be a Mary Sue thing? Well, that's not what I'm aiming for, and you'll learn why later on. All that I can say right now is that she's not completely alone in this world (you know, cause her mom's there too).