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

Act III

The Council of Elrond

Chapter 23: The 10th Walker

The chamber he was in was quintessentially Elvish, blending elegance with the natural beauty of Rivendell. The walls were paneled with light, polished wood, engraved with delicate floral patterns that seemed to dance in the light filtering through a stained glass window. The window itself depicted a scene of the starry skies above Middle-earth, casting colorful reflections across the soft, green velvet drapes and the plush, silver-threaded rugs that covered the stone floor. A large, canopied bed adorned with silken sheets and soft pillows took up one side of the room, while various pieces of beautifully crafted furniture, including a writing desk and a tall bookshelf filled with ancient tomes, occupied the other.

The next morning, as Elenion opened his eyes, he was greeted with the same view as the first time he found himself in Rivendell. Both Elrond and Galadriel had orchestrated the switch to shield his daughter from the traumatic memories of her mother's assault by orcs. Their intentions were pure, aiming to protect her by taking her away from those memories, and unknowingly, another had taken her place.

But the enchantment did not work as intended. The body never left, only the spirit was swapped with another from a different world, another dimension. The arrangement worked well as long as the human enjoyed living as the daughter of Elrond. She was embraced as a true family member by Elrond, Arwen, the twins, and even Galadriel herself. Yet, as the years passed and she observed glimpses of her world, a sense of envy began to gnaw at her. While she was privileged to lead the long, beautiful life of an Elven maiden, the world around her darkened. Many Elves were departing for the Undying Lands, and she felt increasingly out of place.

Her discontent grew until she could no longer ignore her desire to return to her own world. After much contemplation, she made her request to return to the human realm. She was well-acquainted with her life there, confident she could reintegrate smoothly. However, the complication lay with Elenion, who was completely unaware of what it meant to reclaim her original body and the life that awaited her in her own world.

This delicate situation required careful consideration, as her decision would irrevocably alter both their destinies, bridging two worlds that were never meant to converge.

The process of reversing the soul switch between them was complex, but Elrond, motivated by a deep paternal desire, decided to proceed. He knew it was a risk; if Elenion could not adapt to life in Middle-earth, she might be forced to join the others in the Undying Lands. Yet, he could not bear the thought of leaving his daughter in a foreign world, her spirit confined to an unnatural existence.

The transition occurred on a serene night, facilitated by Gandalf's powerful magic. Typically, Gandalf would avoid meddling with such deep enchantments, but this case was exceptional—aimed at preserving the fading light of a young Elven spirit. This enchantment, he vowed, would be his last of this kind, intended to restore each spirit to its rightful body.

For the human, who was not the daughter, now fully aware and back in her human body as Elizabeth, the adaptation was surprisingly smooth. With a few days to acclimate to her original world, she thrived unexpectedly well. It was as if she had always been meant to live as a human—her spirit and mind aligning perfectly with her earthly form.

Conversely, for Elenion, who found himself in Arien's Elven body back in Middle-earth, the adjustment was fraught with challenges. Now Arien once again, faced the daunting task of reconnecting with her Elven heritage, a life she had never truly known yet was born into. This transition was not just about learning to navigate a new body, but also about embracing an entire cultural identity that was both familiar and alien to her.

All this information was given to him, almost a century later, by Galadriel. It took him nearly a human lifetime to attune his mind to what he was facing: life in Middle-earth as the daughter of Elrond, and the many other titles and responsibilities that entailed. From protocols to learning the Elvish language, nothing seemed to matter as long as he felt lost.

Now, he was better. His life as Elenion, even if problematic, had brought him to cope with his surroundings. He did not linger too long in deep thoughts; he did not want to. Things were as they were. He would simply go along in life, hoping to find peace or always remain a lost soul.

Elenion did not know if his family understood what it meant for him, coming from such a different world, growing up in a reality so strange and far from what Middle-earth was. Did he really hate Middle-earth? Not really; he loved it. In his stories, he would often find himself traveling, facing the same enemies that he could face now in reality.

But there was a difference. It was fiction; now, it was not. Imagine waking up, and everything you knew was gone, and now you were facing a world that you thought was fantasy. It did not work easily, waking up and becoming part of that world seamlessly. It was a difficult transition.

Surely he had managed to survive, building a reality that could make him live another day. But he would face reality head-on. If he let his mind loose, he would go crazy. So he preferred to remain Elenion, the odd adventurer causing problems and seeming like an idiot.

He was far from that, but he convinced himself to be that: not to care, not to get deep into thoughts. And here he was today, recalling all that he promised to forget, remembering his first day in this forsaken world, with the Council of Elrond taking place and the war upon them. What would he do now?

The Council of Elrond was held in the sunlit courtyard of Rivendell, an open space surrounded by the elegance of elven architecture. The marble columns and the intricate designs on the stonework added a timeless beauty to the scene. A large, round table had been set in the center, with seats arranged for the representatives of each race. The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting a dappled light upon the gathering.

Elrond, standing at the head of the table, radiated wisdom and calm authority. "My friends, we gather here today to discuss a matter of great importance, one that affects all free peoples of Middle-earth." His voice carried the weight of ages, drawing the attention of all present.

Among those seated were Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Glóin, and Gandalf with Frodo. The three hobbits— Sam, Merry, and Pippin—stood a little apart, hiding from the rest.

Elrond continued, "This is no common council. We are here to decide the fate of the One Ring."

A murmur of unease spread through the assembly. Glóin was the first to speak. "Then it is true! The weapon of the Enemy has been found!"

Boromir, a tall man with a noble bearing, leaned forward. "And what does the Ring-bearer propose to do with it?"

Frodo stepped forward, holding the ring up. It seemed to gleam with a malevolent light. "I bring this to you for counsel. I do not wish to keep it."

Gandalf nodded, his eyes grave. "We have but one choice: to destroy it."

"One does not simply walk into Mordor," Boromir interjected, his voice filled with skepticism. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. 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!"

Aragorn responded calmly, "There is a way. We must trust to hope."

Legolas, observing the tension, added, "If the ring returns to its master, all that we have fought for will be in vain."

Gimli, ever direct, spoke next. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" His tone was both challenging and defensive.

Elrond raised a hand to calm the growing discord. "Peace. We must be united in this endeavor."

Frodo, feeling the weight of the moment, stepped forward again. "I will take the ring to Mordor, though... I do not know the way."

Gandalf placed a reassuring hand on Frodo's shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn stood up, his eyes full of determination. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."

Legolas followed suit. "And you have my bow."

Gimli, not to be outdone, added, "And my axe."

Boromir, after a moment of internal struggle, declared, "You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Samwise Gamgee, who had been silently watching his friend, stepped forward with fierce loyalty. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me."

Elrond smiled warmly. "Indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Merry and Pippin, not wanting to be left out, rushed forward. "We're coming too!" they exclaimed in unison.

Elrond, taking in the sight of this diverse group, concluded, "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

Gandalf, sensing the gravity of the moment, stood tall. "The road will be long and perilous. But we must move swiftly, for the Enemy will not rest."

The council disbanded with a renewed sense of purpose. Each member of the fellowship felt the weight of their task, but also the strength that came from their unity. As they prepared for the journey ahead, the air was filled with a mix of resolve and apprehension. The fate of Middle-earth now rested in their hands, and they were determined to see their mission through, no matter the cost.

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a glance of mutual respect and understanding. Gimli hefted his axe, a look of grim determination on his face. Frodo, though afraid, stood with a newfound courage, bolstered by the support of his friends. The Fellowship was formed, and the quest to destroy the One Ring had truly begun.

Elenion had decided not to attend the Council of Elrond. He knew he was never meant to be a part of that council, and he intended to keep it that way. However, curiosity gnawed at him. Did they indeed say all those things he had read and seen? So, he sneaked in with the hobbits, hiding in the shadows to listen to the speakers. He witnessed the discussions, the conflicts, and, ultimately, the unity forged under one purpose: to fight the encroaching darkness, to destroy the One Ring, and to support Frodo.

Elenion did not know his place in this story. Deep down, he knew he had none. He would not be selfish and interfere with their quest. The Fellowship was already chosen, and although a part of him longed to be the tenth walker, to live through that adventure, he knew he wasn't truly needed. If he decided to follow, things could go wrong, and this was not a mission that could afford mistakes. One misstep could jeopardize the future of all Middle-earth. So today, Elenion chose not to play the fool or the reckless adventurer. He would stay away from the Fellowship.

But he would still be part of this war. He knew there would be many battles, and if he truly wanted to be part of this world and aid in its defense, he could do so without becoming the tenth walker. Perhaps, in his own journey, he would cross paths with the Fellowship, and fight alongside them—not because he was a stubborn Mary Sue who followed them, but because he had found his own path.

For now, Elenion resolved to step back and let things unfold as they should. He would continue to be himself, the odd and troublesome elf, to cope with his reality. But perhaps, through his own journey, he would find himself, no longer remaining the stubborn elf he currently was.

As the council dispersed, Elenion quietly made his way back to his quarters. The corridors of Rivendell were serene, the only sound being the soft whisper of the wind through the trees and the distant murmur of the Bruinen River. He walked slowly, lost in thought, the weight of his decisions settling heavily upon him.

Entering his room, he sat by the window, gazing out at the tranquil beauty of Rivendell. He thought about the journey that lay ahead for the Fellowship, the dangers they would face, and the courage required to see it through. He admired their bravery, and in that admiration, he found a spark of his own resolve.

Elenion stood, feeling a sense of purpose ignite within him. He may not be part of the Fellowship, but he would still fight for Middle-earth. He would find his own battles to fight, his own way to contribute to the war against the darkness. And in doing so, he hoped to discover more about himself and his place in this world.

((Upcoming Chapter Twenty-Four))

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