Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess

Author's Note: The prologue may extend beyond the usual length, and the narrative is likely to truly unfold around Chapter 6 or 7. Your patience is greatly appreciated as we lay the foundation for the story.

I: Prologue

Act II: The Shadow's Advance

Imladris, 3019 TA, March 25

In the timeless haven of Rivendell, where the beauty of the Elves and the wisdom of ages past intertwined, a sense of unease settled upon the tranquil valley. It was a place where the past whispered through the rustling leaves and the songs of the waterfalls, but on this day, a foreboding silence hung in the air.

Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, the keeper of wisdom and a seer of ages, felt a disturbance in the very fabric of Middle-Earth. He had lived with the knowledge that the One Ring's destiny lay in the hands of the smallest of creatures, a Hobbit named Frodo. It was a secret burden he had carried, knowing that the fate of the world hinged on a fragile hope.

As he stood upon the balcony of his haven, gazing into the starry night, Elrond's keen eyes saw beyond the mortal realm. He had been gifted with the ability to perceive the currents of fate, and it was in these moments of foresight that he glimpsed the true horror that had befallen Middle-Earth.

In a vision, he saw the very moment when Frodo's grip on the Ring faltered, when the dark hand of Sauron reached out to reclaim his prize. The vision was a cacophony of screams and shadows, a maelstrom of despair and triumph for the Dark Lord. Elrond knew that the Ring was once again in the grasp of its master, and with it, Sauron's power surged to unimaginable heights.

As the vision faded, Elrond's heart sank, for he understood the magnitude of what had just occurred. Sauron, the embodiment of malevolence, had been patient, and now his patience had been rewarded. The very heart of Middle-Earth was tainted by the shadow of the One Ring, and the world as they knew it teetered on the precipice of an eternal night.

He knew that the news he carried was dire, and the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth needed to be made aware of the unfolding catastrophe. The tranquil valley that had long been a sanctuary for Elves and their allies now bore the weight of impending doom. The very air seemed to carry an eerie stillness, and the vibrant beauty of Rivendell had begun to wane under the shadow that encroached upon it.

In his heart, Elrond carried a burden that transcended the physical. He had held the secret hope that Frodo, a humble Hobbit, would succeed in destroying the One Ring. It was a hope that had sustained them through the darkest of times, but now that hope had been extinguished. With his keen senses as a High Elf, Elrond could feel the palpable shift in the world. The Ring, once held by Frodo on the precipice of Mount Doom, had been torn from his grasp at the last moment. In that fateful instant, the dark hand of Sauron had reached out and claimed what was rightfully his.

Elrond knew, in the depths of his being, that the Ring had found its master. The very essence of Middle-Earth quivered in response to the return of Sauron's malevolence. The land itself seemed to mourn, and the heavens themselves wept. As he stood on that balcony, gazing into the starry night, Elrond's mind was filled with visions of the horrors that had transpired. He saw the Ring, once teetering on the edge of destruction, now resting in the cruel grasp of the Dark Lord. He saw the triumphant sneer that twisted Sauron's visage, a mockery of all that was good and pure.

With the shadow of impending doom looming ever closer, Elrond knew that there was but one course of action to take. A council, solemn and dire, must be convened to inform those who could be reached, representing Elves, Men, and Dwarves, about the malevolent force that had been unleashed upon Middle-Earth. In the heart of Rivendell, the Council of the Free Peoples was assembled. The chamber, usually a place of scholarly discourse and diplomatic deliberation, now bore witness to the gravest of gatherings. Representatives from the various realms, each chosen for their wisdom and leadership, were in attendance.

Elrond, standing at the head of the council, bore the weight of responsibility like a crown of thorns. His voice, steeped in millennia of knowledge and tempered by the wisdom of ages, rang out with solemnity. "My esteemed brethren, we have convened in this fateful hour to face a truth that none among us had hoped to witness. The One Ring, the embodiment of Sauron's malevolence, has been reclaimed by its master."

A heavy silence descended upon the council chamber, each representative absorbing the enormity of Elrond's words. The very idea of the Ring, the source of Sauron's unparalleled power, being back in his possession was a chilling revelation.

Indeed, the representatives who gathered at the Council of the Free Peoples were those who could be reached on short notice or were already present in Rivendell. Elrond recognized the urgency of the situation, and the need for swift action and decision-making was paramount. Elrond's messengers had been dispatched to carry the dire tidings to every corner of Middle-Earth, but time was a cruel master. The darkness moved swiftly, and some could not be informed in time for the council.

As the gathered leaders deliberated on their next steps, the weight of responsibility hung heavy in the air. Their decisions would not only shape the fate of their realms but also determine the course of history for all Free Peoples. The urgency of their task was a constant reminder, and the council proceedings were marked by a sense of determination, even as the shadow of Sauron's evil loomed ever closer.

Elrond continued, his words measured and filled with foreboding. "The lands beyond Rivendell have already fallen under siege, and it is only a matter of time before the shadow reaches our very sanctuary. The darkness that now blankets Middle-Earth is unlike any we have faced before."

The representatives, be they Elves, Men, or Dwarves, exchanged somber glances. The realization that the shadow of Sauron's malevolence would soon darken their domains weighed heavily upon them.

Elrond's eyes, a reflection of ancient wisdom and unwavering resolve, surveyed the council. "We stand at the precipice of an unending night, my friends. The fate of Middle-Earth is in grave peril, and we must prepare for the inevitable. Our lands, our homes, our very way of life, are under threat."

The representatives, each a leader in their own right, nodded in acknowledgment. The time for unity and action had come. They could not allow the darkness to prevail, even when hope seemed but a flicker in the encroaching night.

And so, the Council of the Free Peoples commenced a gathering of leaders and warriors from various realms who were determined to make their final stand against the relentless advance of Sauron's forces. The fate of Middle-Earth rested upon their shoulders, and they would stand united, whatever the cost, against the shadow that threatened to consume all they held dear.

Elrond, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, gathered his people and allies. Together, they fortified their defenses, knowing that they could not escape the inevitable confrontation with Sauron's forces.

The fate of Elrond's ring, Vilya, was a matter of great concern. It had been one of the Three Rings, forged to preserve the beauty and vitality of the Elven realms. With the return of the One Ring to Sauron, the power of the Three Rings waned, and their preservation of Elven realms was endangered.

Elrond knew that the time would come when he would have to make a choice – to preserve the last vestiges of Rivendell's beauty or to join the fray against the dark lord. It was a decision that weighed heavily on his heart, for he had dedicated centuries to the preservation of Elven culture and lore. As the shadow of Sauron's dominion drew nearer to Rivendell, the atmosphere within the valley became increasingly tense. The people of Rivendell, Elves, and their allies alike, would have to prepare for the inevitable clash with Sauron's forces.

The once-tranquil haven would be transformed into a fortress of vigilance and defiance. The waterfalls, once a source of solace and inspiration, would roar with a tumultuous fury that mirrored the turmoil in the hearts of those who dwelled there.

Elrond, with the weight of leadership upon his shoulders, knew that the time for a difficult decision was fast approaching. The fate of Rivendell and its inhabitants hung in the balance, and he could not afford to be idle.

The shadow was relentless, and its advance was swift. As the darkness closed in around them, Elrond made his choice. He would not allow Rivendell to be consumed by the shadow without a fight. The beauty and wisdom of the Elves would not be extinguished without a struggle.

With resolve in his heart, Elrond knew he had to gather his people and allies. It was time to take a stand against the encroaching darkness, to defend the haven that had been their refuge for centuries. The fate of Middle-Earth now rested on the shoulders of those who dared to defy the shadow, for hope, though dim, still burned within their hearts. He thought he would never have to stand against the Dark Lord, like thousands of years ago, but the time came once more.

And so, the battle for Rivendell would eventually begin a desperate struggle to preserve the last bastion of Elven beauty and knowledge in a world on the brink of eternal night. Elrond, with Vilya on his finger, would have to lead the remaining of his people into the heart of darkness, knowing that the fate of Rivendell and all of Middle-Earth hung in the balance.

However, Elrond's concerns extended beyond the council chamber, for among those who had chosen to ride to Gondor were his children, Arwen and the twins, Elladan and Elrohir. As the Lord of Rivendell, he bore the weight of not only the fate of Middle-Earth but also the well-being of his beloved offspring. He knew that the journey ahead would be risky, and the darkness that now covered the land would test their spirits.

In the tranquil halls of Rivendell, a private meeting took place between Elrond and his three children. They had come to discuss their decision to ride to Gondor, to offer their aid to the White City in its time of need.

Elrond, his ancient eyes filled with both paternal love and concern, regarded his children. "My dear Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir," he began, his voice gentle yet filled with gravitas, "I understand the noble intentions that drive you to ride to Gondor. The White City does indeed need all the help it can muster in these dark times. However, I cannot help but worry for your safety."

Arwen, with the grace of her Elven lineage and the determination that had always defined her spirit, stepped forward. "Father, we are well aware of the dangers that lie ahead," she said, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve. "But if we do not stand united with our allies in this hour of need, all that we hold dear may be lost. The darkness threatens not only Gondor but all of Middle-Earth. We cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering of others."

Elladan and Elrohir, the twins who had inherited their father's wisdom and valor, nodded in agreement. "Arwen speaks true," Elladan said. "The time for unity has come. We will not falter in the face of this darkness."

Elrond, torn between his paternal concern and the knowledge that their aid was desperately needed, sighed. "I understand your reasons, my children, and I am proud of your courage and sense of duty. But the darkness that now engulfs Middle-Earth is unlike any we have faced before. Promise me that you will exercise caution and look out for one another."

Arwen, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination, spoke for all three. "We promise, Father. We will watch over each other and do all that is in our power to aid Gondor."

With the matter settled, the twins and Arwen began the preparations for their journey to Gondor. Rivendell's finest steeds were readied, and supplies were gathered for the arduous ride. The twins, skilled in both combat and strategy, took charge of organizing the mission. They gathered a company of Rangers from the north, hardened warriors who knew the lay of the land and could navigate the treacherous terrain.

As they prepared to depart, Rivendell's residents gathered to bid them farewell. The somber mood that had settled over the valley was palpable, but there was also a sense of unity and purpose. The Free Peoples of Middle-Earth, even in the face of overwhelming darkness, stood united.

Arwen, her heart heavy with the weight of the journey ahead, took a moment to visit her father one last time before departure. In the tranquility of Elrond's chambers, she sought his blessings and guidance.

Elrond placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes filled with paternal pride. "My daughter, you carry the grace and strength of our people with you. May the light of our love guide you through the darkest of times. And remember, you are never alone, for you carry the legacy of our family and the hope of all Free Peoples in your heart."

Arwen nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you, Father. Your wisdom and love are my greatest strength."

With their farewells exchanged and their hearts filled with resolve, Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir, along with their company of Rangers, set forth from Rivendell. Their journey to Gondor was a perilous one, but they rode with the determination to stand united against the encroaching darkness and offer.

In the somber halls of Rivendell, Elrond, the wise and noble Elf-lord, bore the weight of despair upon his ageless shoulders. The council came to an end, and all three of his children had already ridden to Gondor. He had always known that the fate of his dear and only daughter, Arwen, was intricately tied to the unfolding of Middle-Earth's destiny. As he stood in his chambers, gazing out into the tranquil valley below, he couldn't escape the harsh truth that had been revealed to him through the foresight of his people.

In a vision he had seen many days ago, a cruel glimpse into the future, that had shattered his heart. Arwen, his beloved daughter, had chosen to remain in Middle-Earth, forsaking the immortal life of the Elves, all for the love she held for Aragorn, the ranger who would become the King. In that vision, he had seen their child, a child of love and destiny, bound to a world gripped by darkness and uncertainty.

As he paced the chambers, the weight of responsibility pressed upon him. He knew that these were dire times and that Arwen's presence by Aragorn's side was both a blessing and a curse. She brought him hope and love, but her decision also meant they were now deeply entwined in the struggle against Sauron. And with the Dark Lord now owning the One Ring, his daughter managing to survive all that darkness was only a fake hope. And even if Arwen had managed to fight through all the dark times, no one knew if Middle-Earth would be able to stand against Sauron and the one Ring.

The air in the room seemed heavy, filled with the despair that had settled in Elrond's heart. With each step, he contemplated the dire consequences of Sauron regaining the One Ring. The fate of Middle-Earth hung in the balance, and he knew there was no choice but to act. Even no hope was left, and the Elven Lord felt the despair rising, he had to stand against the evil that the One Ring and Sauron were bringing.

Summoning his advisors and messengers, Elrond began the arduous task of spreading the grim tidings. Every living soul must be made aware that Sauron has reclaimed the Ring. It was a message that carried fear and sorrow, but it was also a call to action. The free peoples of Middle-Earth could not simply give in to despair. They had to unite, resist the growing darkness, and prepare for the inevitable conflict that would decide the fate of their world.

And so, in the face of despair, Elrond took the first step, knowing that it was only the beginning of a long and treacherous journey. The fate of Arwen, Aragorn, and all of Middle-Earth hung in the balance, and there was no turning back now.

((Upcoming Act Three))

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