Aiër- Chapter Three
Shëanon's fingers gripped the edge of her mattress as her stomach continued to heave. She felt hands pulling her air out of her face, rubbing her back.
"Shut the door!" came Lord Elrond's sharp voice from very close to her ear. Her stomach was empty but she was retching, her body convulsing. She gasped for breath and lay down her head for a moment, feeling dizzy and dazed. She could still see the flames of her nightmare when she closed her eyes, as if the image had been burned into her eyelids. Finally, she sat up.
Her father knelt on the bed beside her, his gaze intense. With a grip like iron he brought his hands to her shoulders.
"What happened?" he demanded. The severity of his tone frightened her. She shrank away from him; her mind was still reeling and she still half-felt the fire on her flesh. In her disoriented state her father's voice sounded for an instant like the horrible hiss that had echoed in her head only moments before and she stared at him with wide eyes. He frowned.
"Shëanon?" he asked, this time more gently. Worry lined his face, furrowed his brow. Shëanon suddenly realized that someone had lit candles, for a warm light illuminated the room and flickered in her father's eyes. She looked up and saw Aragorn, Elrohir, and Glorfindel standing behind him at the foot of the bed. They were all watching her closely and with a rush of clarity, she realized that they must have come running at the sound of her screams. She blushed deeply, remembering how she had been sick on the floor, and pulled her blankets closer to her soaked body. She glanced back at her father, who was looking at her expectantly. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, wondering what she could possibly give as an explanation.
"I don't know what happened," she admitted nervously; to her chagrin she found that her voice was shaky and strained. Her throat burned. "I-I was having… I had a nightmare."
Lord Elrond stared at her, scrutinizing her face. "A nightmare?" he repeated. Shëanon nodded her head and looked down at the bed. She had had many nightmares before—they had plagued her sleep as a child—but never had they caused her to scream out and get sick and cause such a scene. She shivered; her sweat dried like ice on her skin.
"What was the nightmare about?" Elrond asked gravely. She could feel his eyes on her still and she shifted nervously. She was tempted to make something up; not only did her dream seem a foolish thing to make such a fuss about but also in her heart she was very afraid to relive it- in memory or in words. Only because she did not dare lie to her father did she force herself to answer him.
"It- There was darkness. Darkness and then fire," she whispered. Tears burned at her eyes as she spoke, tendrils of fear and doubt snaking up her spine. It had been so terrible, felt so real. "And a voice."
"What did the voice say?"
Shëanon shook her head. To her horror, she felt a wetness on her face and she hastily wiped at her eyes. A cold breeze blew suddenly through the room, the curtains swaying and reaching towards her threateningly. Who are you? Where is it?
"It asked who I am. It was looking for something, but I would not answer and the fire," she choked, "I was burning in the fire, drowning in it, and I felt…"
"What did you feel?" Elrond asked, his sturdy voice low and sober. Suddenly Shëanon wept.
"I felt a siege upon my mind," she cried, "like many cruel fingers attempting to pry into my thoughts, to sever my will." She sobbed and looked at her father desperately, his face blurry through her tears. He said nothing as he regarded her, and then he rose abruptly and strode towards the door.
"Adar?" she cried from the bed, alarmed, but Elrond merely opened the door and whispered urgently to whom she saw was Elladan standing in the doorway. Her brother nodded and then Elrond turned and approached the bed once more.
"We must discuss this further, but not here," he explained, seeing her panic. His face was stern and impassive in the dim light of the room, but in his eyes Shëanon caught the flicker of an unrecognizable expression. "Come."
Without hesitation, Shëanon scrambled from her bed and followed him from the chamber; the floor was cold under her bare feet and the air was chill upon her clammy skin. Elladan was no longer in the hallway, but as they passed through the house, she was aware of other people lurking around corners and talking suspiciously and nervously in doorways. She grimaced, knowing that she had woken them.
As she had expected, Elrond led them into his study and closed the door. Shëanon saw a figure standing in the shadows on the far side of the room and she jumped, but to her relief it was only Gandalf. He appeared to have been waiting for them.
"Sit down, hên nín," Elrond murmured, gesturing to the divan in the middle of the room. Shëanon did as she was bidden and lowered herself onto it, glad to be off her shaking legs. Her father poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table beside her and placed it wordlessly in her hands; she held it in her lap but did not drink, though her throat ached from her shrieking and weeping.
Gandalf had moved from where he had stood in the corner and now he leaned upon his staff before the fireplace. The light of the flames threw his lined face into relief; he looked ancient and troubled as he peered at Lord Elrond, whose only answer was a glare. Shëanon watched her father turn away and stride to the window, resting one hand against the sill and remaining still and silent for many moments. Stars, glittering far away in the night sky, were a wreath around the dark figure that was his body and Shëanon found the sight inexplicably unsettling.
She looked around her uneasily, waiting for someone to speak, to explain. She was cold and anxious and her head was pounding and the silence was painful and strained. Aragorn and Elrohir both stood behind her; she could hear their quiet, steady breathing. One of them put a hand upon her head and she knew whose it was without turning.
"There is much unrest now," Gandalf said at last. "And distrust."
"That is no surprise," said Glorfindel evenly. "All of Imladris was awoken and now wonders if some evil has come here while they slept; I myself half-expected to find a Nazgûl attacking from the shadows, though well I knew that it was impossible."
Shëanon bowed her head in shame.
"The dwarves were wary indeed," agreed the wizard with a nod. "They took up arms and were most reluctant to set them back down."
"What is being told to them?" Aragorn asked quietly, the sound soothing to her ears. His hand had moved to her shoulder.
"Only that there is no cause for alarm," Gandalf answered. "Which even I think is not the truth," he added, now turning his gaze to Shëanon's face. His eyes were more fiery than she had ever seen them.
At this remark Lord Elrond finally turned. "The dwarves have nothing to worry about in this," he said resentfully, and Shëanon shuddered as he looked at her again.
"I do not understand," she said anxiously. "What is happening?" It seemed to her that everyone looked at her with pity and her stomach was in knots.
"That was not any nightmare, Shëanon," Elrond said plainly. "That was the Enemy in your mind, as I think you already know."
"But how?" She asked desperately. She had indeed suspected that it was the Dark Lord whose voice she had heard, for the terrible evil and fear she had felt in her was beyond belief. "And why?"
"He sought information about the ring, you said nearly as much yourself."
"But why me, of all people?" she asked in despair. "I know nothing, I am no one! Why did he not attack Frodo, or even Bilbo or the others? I—"
"It was not Sauron's doing," Elrond interrupted, taking a step closer to the fire.
"But you just said—"
"I said that it was Sauron's voice that you heard," Elrond said sharply. "But Sauron did not seek you out, and I doubt he even knew you exist."
Shëanon blinked at him, confused. What did he mean Sauron had not sought her out? She turned to glance up at Aragorn and Elrohir, but if they understood what was going on, their faces did not show it; they looked fixedly at her father.
"How then did his voice come to be in my head if he did not make it so?" Shëanon asked apprehensively.
"You did that yourself," said Elrond.
Shëanon said nothing, shocked. Her mouth had gone dry but the glass of water she still held was forgotten as she frantically tried to think of what her father was talking about. Was he suggesting that she had invited Sauron into herself? She wracked her brain but came up short. Under his large, bushy eyebrows, she could see that Gandalf had closed his eyes, and Aragorn's hand tightened around her shoulder.
"But I didn't…"
"You did, Shëanon. You reached out with your Sight and found the One Ring, and Sauron himself inside it, and thus he gained entry to your mind."
"I didn't! I swear!" she beseeched him, shaking once more, but the voice was echoing sinisterly, ominously in her memory: Who are you? Who are you? Dread seized her. "I don't even know how to do that!"
At this Elrond looked at her incredulously. "Do you not? How then do you think you were able to see Aragorn at Amon Sûl?" he asked her harshly.
Shëanon flinched, for to her knowledge, only Aragorn and her father had known about that vision and she did not like the others to know. She hesitated. "You said that I see what the Valar want me to see," she whispered, though she was now uncertain and unnerved.
"Indeed, none see anything if the Valar do not wish it," Elrond said grimly. "But in that instance, the Valar were not showing you a glimpse of the future, Shëanon; you did not foresee it. You saw it while it happened. You sought out Aragorn with your mind and so you found him, just as tonight you found the Enemy. Many times I have felt you push against my consciousness, and many times I have had to bar you from my mind."
Shëanon looked at him in horror and disbelief. "But I didn't know!" she cried, now almost hysterical. "I didn't mean to do it! I wasn't trying to!"
Elrond's face finally softened; his eyes became compassionate and remorseful.
"Hên nín, I know that you did not mean to," he said tenderly, and at this Shëanon began to cry once more, but now the tears were different. She buried her face in her hands, completely overwhelmed and at a loss. She felt movement beside her, and then strong arms enfolded her and she was pulled against her father's chest. She kept her eyes closed, relishing the comfort and security of her father's embrace; so long had it been since she had allowed him to hold her like this that she had forgotten how safe it made her feel, how loved. He waited patiently while she wept, but she cried all the more for his affection. Several moments passed.
"What does this mean?" she sniffled when she had regained some of her composure.
"I fear that Sauron is now aware of you," Lord Elrond sighed, the sound of his voice a deep rumble against her ear as she leaned against his chest. "But even I do not yet know what will happen."
Shëanon lay down on the divan and stayed there through the remainder of the night, listening to the low conversation of her father and brothers and friends. The fact that Sauron the Deceiver had been in her mind, trying to force his way into her thoughts, disgusted her. She felt violated and contaminated, but also guilty and ashamed and very angry because it had been her doing, her fault. She would have gone to be alone, to reflect on everything in privacy, but her father had ordered her to stay where she was and even if he had not, she found that she was frightened and paranoid. As a result, she dared not close her eyes even just to alleviate the burning in them, for she was afraid of what might happen if she let her concentration slip even for a moment away from the present. Never before had she felt that she could not trust herself, and the thought added to her emotional exhaustion.
Elladan appeared at one point, and Shëanon listened as he spoke lowly to the others. The Dwarves, he said, had threatened to leave if someone did not tell them what was going on, and their loud suspicion had perturbed the Men. Even the Elves were worried, for they had all sensed the evil presence in their home.
Aragorn left the study then, and Glorfindel, and Gandalf went to check on the hobbits. Shëanon stared blankly, miserably at the wall before her as Elrond and Elrohir explained in more detail to Elladan what he had had only a very brief, whispered account of earlier in the night. The room grew slowly lighter as the night waned; somewhere around dawn, Arwen entered and sat by Shëanon's head. She said nothing, but occasionally she ran her fingers though Shëanon's hair.
Not long after, Elrond came again before her; Erestor had just left. Shëanon looked at him blankly.
"There are matters that I must attend to," Lord Elrond said quietly. Shëanon could hear all the thousands of years of his life in his voice just then. "You should go and dress and eat; it is not long now until the Council."
She felt her brow crease. "You told me that I am not to go to the Council," she said slowly.
"This problem now concerns you," he said firmly. "Go and dress."
At midmorning, Shëanon walked with Aragorn, Elladan, and Elrohir to the great balcony that lay at one end of the Hall of Fire. Bells rang as they approached, a warning that the Council of Elrond was soon to commence. As she stepped down onto the balcony, she saw that many seats had been arranged in a wide semicircle facing three carven, high-backed chairs; on one sat her father, and Elladan and Elrohir occupied the two on either side of him. They were images of power and wisdom, Elrond and his sons. She glanced hesitantly at Aragorn, unsure where she belonged, and was relieved when he indicated the seat right beside him at the very end of the semicircle, close to Elladan.
Moments later, others began to arrive. The Dwarves came in all at once, she noted, clearly eager to have their choice of seats; they sat at the very top of the circular arch, directly across from Elrond, and looked around expectantly. It was clear to Shëanon as more guests crowded in that each race had the same idea, intent on all being seated together and wary of the other peoples. The group of Men filled the space between Aragorn and the Dwarves, and the Elves sat on their other side. Among them were Erestor and Glorfindel and her father's advisors, Galdor and the Elves of the Grey Havens, and Legolas and his two Woodland companions. Then there were only three empty seats left, directly across from Shëanon and closest to Elrohir. As they waited for the last few to arrive, the Dwarves and Men sat quietly muttering to one another. The Elves sat straight and silent, and Shëanon sat biting her lip and trying to look like she belonged there. Indeed, several eyes had glanced curiously her way. She wondered who knew that it had been her screaming in the night.
When her father had told her to go dress, she had been unsure of what to wear; she normally dressed in one of her flowing gowns for dinner and wore leggings and a tunic during other hours. In the end her desire to blend in and be comfortable had swayed her towards leggings, though she wore her finest pair with a tunic of rich, silky material. She had not, however, worn her circlet and although she saw that her father and brothers wore theirs, she was glad of her decision.
Leaves spiraled off of surrounding branches and some were blown about the flagstones at their feet; the day was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and the sun was warm and shone upon them. Just when Shëanon could tell that some were growing impatient, there was a bustle from behind her and Gandalf, Frodo, and Bilbo Baggins came in and claimed the last three chairs. There were exactly enough seats, Shëanon observed and knew that her father had had to add one for her. She looked in consternation at the polished wood under her hands and then, finally, Lord Elrond rose and addressed the Council.
"Strangers from 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," he said in a clear, commanding voice as he looked at those assembled before him. She could tell that even the dwarves were giving him their undivided attention. There was a short, intense silence during which these words were absorbed.
Suddenly a man leaned forward and spoke. "What exactly is this destruction of which you speak? Mordor threatens, yes, but Mordor has always threatened. Why do you call a council now?" he asked. There was some muttering at this, but heads that had turned to look at him turned quickly back to Elrond, whose eyebrows had risen. He seemed to consider for a moment, and then he turned to the hobbits.
"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo," he said, and Shëanon watched, startled, as the hobbit slowly stood and placed the One Ring on the low pedestal that had been placed in the center of the semicircle. For some reason, she had not expected the ring to be put on display for all to see; was it not an object of great evil and terrible temptation? Indeed many people around the circle made sounds of surprise and shock, and some leaned forward in their chairs to stare at the gold band. It was deceptively ordinary-looking, she observed, but it also seemed eerily alive, as though it perceived that it was being looked at and was looking back. She did not like it at all, and yet she felt captivated by it. Shëanon tore her gaze away, disquieted and repulsed, for the night's events were still fresh in her mind. Frodo Baggins went back to his seat.
"This is the purpose for which I have called you here," Elrond said gravely, recalling everyone from the trance that the ring had imposed upon them. "Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."
Shëanon listened carefully as he spoke of the rings of power, of Celebrimbor and of Sauron and of the One Ring. She looked at her hands as he described the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, knowing that the tale was a first-hand recollection. Finally, he spoke of Isildur, and then fell silent.
"So it is true," breathed Boromir of Gondor. "Isildur's bane has been found."
"It has," Elrond affirmed, and then the council heard for the first time the fate of the ring after the fateful moment in which it had seemingly fallen out of history. Gandalf now told them of the creature Gollum, and then Bilbo and Frodo in turn gave their accounts of the story, how the ring had come to pass to each of them, and how it came to be in Imladris. Aragorn had already told Shëanon most of it, but some of the details were new to her.
"And this Gollum, you say, is now imprisoned?" asked Boromir pensively. He sat on the edge of his seat.
"He is," nodded Gandalf.
"Alas, he is not," Legolas interjected, speaking for the first time. All eyes swiveled to him.
"Not?" Gandalf asked in surprise, leaning forward to look at Legolas more directly.
"No. He has escaped," the elf said grimly, and Shëanon knew that her shock was plain on her face. Escaped?! She looked first at Aragorn beside her, who she knew had been the one to capture the creature and personally deliver him to Mirkwood, and then at her father, but it was clear that they had both been aware of this dark news before. She remembered suddenly the words her father had spoken but days earlier: I would speak with you before any others arrive. She suspected she now knew exactly what Elrond had wanted to discuss with Thranduil's son. She brought her gaze reluctantly back to Legolas, who was explaining how a pack of orcs had descended upon his guards and Gollum had vanished in the chaos. The prince's story was diplomatic and his face betrayed no emotion, but she could sense his regret and concern, and even some bitterness. He clearly did not like to tell of Mirkwood's failure to keep such an important prisoner. She looked away from him, for she felt that her face had grown hot.
As the council continued, it became clear that Legolas was not the only one who had come with evil tidings. Shëanon was horrified as Glóin the Dwarf told his tale; that the Enemy sought them out on their doorstep, asking questions about the hobbits and offering rings of power, disturbed her greatly. The Men too had troubles to speak of, and her heart grew heavier with every word of orc raids and burned villages. She had known that Gondor was strained under the onslaught of evil that it faced, for it lay so close to Mordor, but Boromir described entire cities abandoned and forsaken and a land overcome by darkness. Finally, Gandalf revealed that Saruman the White had joined forces with Sauron, and she could have cried aloud in her despair. She could see now how truly sheltered she had been, for she had never realized the severity of the world's plight.
"But what proof," asked Galdor slowly, "is there that this is the One Ring?"
Shëanon's brows rose. Although she could see that the elf did not want to believe that such evil was once again upon them, she did not see how the ring's true nature could be called into question. How could it be anything other than the ring to rule them all?
"Are not all these tidings proof of what it is?" asked Gandalf, bristling under his silver beard. "Why else would the Nine have pursued Frodo? Why else would the Dark Lord beseech the Dwarves to aid him? Saruman himself, the wisest of our order, is sure of what this ring is. There is no question. It is the One Ring, and it is altogether evil."
"It is a gift!" protested Boromir abruptly. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this ring? 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!" he cried, rising from his seat and pacing before the ambassadors of Middle Earth. "Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy! Let us use it against him!"
Shëanon was taken aback by this. Was it not already proven that the One Ring served none but the Dark Lord? Her father had just explained how Isildur met his doom as a result of such thinking.
"You cannot wield it," Aragorn said firmly. Shëanon was relieved to see that he too was looking at Boromir with disbelief and wariness. Something in his voice and face flashed. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone; it has no other Master."
Boromir scoffed, his eyes cold but wild in his determination. "And what does a ranger know of this matter?" he asked arrogantly.
Fury flashed like lightning through Shëanon and but for Aragorn's hand on her harm, she might have risen. Well she knew that Aragorn was by right the man's king. Her grip tightened on the arms of her chair as a result of her indignation.
"This is no mere ranger," Legolas cut in, rising now himself. His features were hard and his tone severe. "He is Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance," he said coldly.
"Aragorn?" he laughed, though it was a slightly nervous sound. "This is Isildur's heir?"
"And heir to the Throne of Gondor," Legolas said icily, and Shëanon felt a sudden rush of warmth and gratification towards him, satisfied by his steadfast defense of Aragorn. She looked back now at Boromir, smug and spiteful and glad to see that he looked angry and stunned, but Aragorn's fingers tightened around her forearm and he spoke again from beside her.
"Havo dad, Legolas," he said quietly, and for a moment the elf's gaze was steely upon his friend, but then he turned and sat, tall and proud in his seat.
Boromir watched him sit with a shadow over his face. "Gondor has no king," he said resentfully. "Gondor needs no king."
There was a drawn out, uncomfortable silence during which all that was heard was the rustling of dead leaves. The Men had grown restless and awkward in the wake of the exchange, the Elves haughty and severe. Bilbo Baggins muttered what sounded suspiciously like 'greedy line of glorified custodians." Shëanon bit her lip to hide her smirk. Finally, Gandalf spoke again.
"Aragorn is right," he said calmly. "We cannot use it."
"You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." Elrond said with finality. The silence returned, but it was now dense with apprehension and foreboding.
"Then what are we waiting for?" growled one of the dwarfs, and Shëanon jumped as he lifted a great axe and brought it down upon the pedestal; the axe broke and the dwarf was thrown back by some great force, his kinsmen hastening to pull him up from among the jagged pieces of shattered metal. The ring was unscathed.
"The ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, Son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess," Elrond explained patiently. "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."
"One does not simply walk into Mordor," said Boromir. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust; the very air that 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 asked angrily. "The Ring must be destroyed!"
Gimli son of Glóin took once more to his feet. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" he accused caustically.
"And if we fail what then?" Boromir asked heatedly. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" the dwarf cried with passion, and suddenly everyone was on their feet. The Elves and Dwarves had rounded on each other, years of prejudice spewing from their mouths; Legolas threw out his arms to restrain his two companions, who were yelling in Sindarin, while the Men argued over the voices of the other two races.
"No one trust an Elf!" shouted Gimli, and the other dwarves all roared.
Gandalf stood as well, brandishing his staff and demanding order, but the pandemonium only grew. "You fools! Stop this at once or you'll all be destroyed!"
"And what of Minas Tirith?! It is us who will suffer!"
"If there is to be victory, it will come only through the efforts of the Eldar!"
"Sauron's power grows!"
"Swarms of orcs! Fields of blood!"
"Your greed has started all of this!"
"Cuiach erui na galu od Ilúvatar, Aulëhîn!"
"LOCKED ME IN A DUNGEON!"
Shëanon looked around, wide-eyed and slightly alarmed, at the ensuing riot. Beside her Aragorn was shaking his head, exasperated. Elrond sat as still as a statue in his chair, watching the mess in front of him. She could see that although he was displeased, he was not at all surprised and he seemed to be waiting for the upheaval to die down on its own; it seemed petty even to her, and she would have stood up and shouted as well, shouted for everyone to be quiet and focus on the matter at hand, but she knew that her voice yelling atop the others would only cause more anger. She glanced up at the sun, wondering how long the argument would last, when a voice came over all the others.
"I will take it!" shouted Frodo Baggins. He had been the only other person not to stand and join in the quarrel. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise. "I will take the ring to Mordor," he said when there was quiet once more, "Though… I do not know the way."
Shëanon did not know what to make of this, and so she looked to her father, but the Elf Lord's face remained as stern and impassive as ever. He too seemed to be considering the hobbit, who stood grim-faced and nervous but firm before the speechless peoples of the council.
Gandalf stepped forward and placed his wizened hand on the small creature's shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," he said, "as long as it is yours to bear."
Shëanon was filled by a new fear at the sound of this proclamation. She closed her eyes, knowing what was coming, and when she opened them it was to watch sorrowfully as Aragorn rose from his seat. To her dismay but not surprise, he walked up to Frodo and went down on his knee.
"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will," he swore, his noble face lit with determination and truth. "You have my sword."
"And you have my bow," said Legolas, coming forth as well.
"And my axe!" announced Gimli with much spirit, although he and Legolas eyed each other scornfully.
Shëanon suddenly felt a burning in her, a whisper in her mind. She thought of all that she had just learned, of all the terrors that the world was facing. She thought of all the days that she had felt lost and useless and restless, and she thought of Aragorn and Gandalf going willingly into great danger. Most of all, however, she thought of Frodo Baggins, how innocent of heart he was, and how daring and selfless it was of him to take such a burden upon himself when none would have asked it of him. She remembered how he had been when Arwen had borne him out of the river and into her father's care, so close to a fate worse than death, and as she looked at the resolution on his clear face before her, she knew that she now stood at what was the greatest crossroad of her young life. She hesitated.
As her thoughts raced, Boromir of Gondor stepped forward, his face once again fair and kind.
"You carry the fate of us all, little one," he said and looked directly into Frodo's eyes. "If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."
Emotion churned inside her until Shëanon thought she would burst, and she felt as though the earth itself was willing her to stand, and finally she felt so compelled that she too rose from her seat and stepped forward. She was aware that the eyes of those around her were wide with disbelief and even with discouragement, but nonetheless she spoke.
"I too will go with you," she said quietly to Frodo, her heart pounding but her voice mercifully steady. "And I will help you in any way that I can," she vowed. She did not look at anyone; from the corner of her eye she saw that Elrohir had risen and she could feel his disapproval acutely, his eyes boring into her. Just when she feared that Lord Elrond would intervene, there came a shout from the bushes.
"Mister Frodo isn't going anywhere without me!" cried Samwise Gamgee, hurrying to Frodo's side.
"We're coming, too!" called another voice, and everyone turned to see Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took jump from behind a pillar and scurry over to their friends. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"
The hobbits all looked earnestly at Lord Elrond, for it was clear to everyone that the final decision was his. Sam's face was pleading but also resolved, and Merry and Pippin looked both confident and excited as everyone else reeled with the many turns of event. Shëanon finally looked at her father, her heart in her throat. She watched his eyes rove the crowd of many strained faces, and then consider those who had come forth to stand by Frodo. He studied the hobbits for a moment and Shëanon caught Gandalf winking; she could see that her father would relent where they were concerned.
"So be it," he said. In his voice she could hear his resignation, but as he turned at last to look into her eyes she saw iron in his will and anger in his eyes and she knew that he would soon deal with her alone. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."
When it was clear that the Council was ended, the gathered people immediately broke into conversation, making exclamations and remarks and chattering to those around them, but Shëanon heard none of it, for she stood frozen before Lord Elrond. She burned under his gaze and held her breath as she waited for him to speak. Elladan and Elrohir were on either side of him, looking at her as they never had before; with a jolt she recognized the same fire that had smoldered in their eyes after their brush with the Nazgûl.
"Shëanon," Elrond said coldly, his voice low and dangerous under the newly arisen commotion. Shëanon lifted her chin, though she trembled slightly.
"Come with me," he ordered in the same terrible tone, "Now." He glared at her for a moment longer and then turned and strode away. Shëanon followed immediately, for she dared not disobey, and she knew that her father knew it. Elladan and Elrohir stepped after them, and she could hear that others followed behind, but she did not look to see who, for instinct would not permit her to turn her back to her father.
Shëanon had expected him to lead her once more to his study, and so she was surprised when Elrond marched past the heavy wooden door. Her anxiety increased with her every step. As Elrond strode outside and up a stone staircase, Shëanon's stomach dropped. Their destination was the cavernous stone chamber that stood over the city, and she eyed the great domed ceiling and elaborate stone pillars with fear; she knew that only very important matters were brought there and even though the building was completely open to the air, with arcades and stone columns standing in the place of actual walls, the rushing of the waterfall beside it and the isolated location would mean that there was no chance that they would be overheard. Shëanon shuddered, knowing that that was why Elrond brought her there. Her limbs were like lead as she mounted the stairs behind him; the climb seemed to last a lifetime.
The circular chamber was empty but for a stone table and the chairs that stood around it. Lord Elrond grabbed one and pulled it into the center of the room. Shëanon sat without waiting to be told and watched tensely as Elrond began pacing back and forth before her. Elladan and Elrohir had come in behind her, and Gandalf crossed to the table and sank into a chair himself. Aragorn leaned against a pillar at the very edge of the room and she could sense that he was there to listen but not speak. After several moments of pacing, Elrond stopped and looked at her.
"Do you have any idea of the position you have put me in?" he asked her, his voice low and hard. Shëanon cringed and said nothing; never had she made her father so angry. She did not know how to comport herself. "You are not going."
Finally, the words she had been expecting. They stung.
"Yes, I am," she said as calmly as she could manage. She folded her arms over herself in an effort to keep her limbs from shaking.
"You are not, and that is final," Elrond said sharply, his powerful voice intimidating under the vaulted ceiling.
"But Adar—"
"Silence!" he barked, his anger now plain on his face.
"Let the child speak, Elrond," Gandalf murmured from the table, but his expression was also severe.
"There is nothing that she can say," he said sternly, his eyes flashing in the wizard's direction.
"Adar, I want to help," Shëanon said, in earnest. Elrond turned back to her, his expression formidable and resolute in the afternoon light, and for the first time she felt that she spoke not to her father but to the Lord of Imladris.
"This is not for you to worry about, Shëanon," he said seriously, his grey eyes piercing, his gaze penetrating.
"You are the one who said that this matter concerns me," she said through gritted teeth, for now her temper had begun to rise and her emotions were tumultuous inside her. "I live in this world, too. This is as much my problem as it is anyone's!"
"You are a child," Elrond said dismissively, shaking his head. The words were like a slap to her face; she knew that he'd hit a nerve, for now she felt a rush of long-repressed anger in her heart.
"I am not a child," she fumed. "I would be considered an adult in the World of Men—"
"But you are not in the World of Men," Elrond cut across her. "And among the Eldar you are a child."
"I am half human," she spat, and she was vaguely aware that she had never before said it aloud.
"You have human blood in your veins but you are an Elf nonetheless," Elrond said angrily. "And you are staying in Imladris!"
"But I could help!" she cried, now unable to keep herself from jumping to her feet. "Aside from Legolas, my senses are sharper than those of the others! I could see and hear what they could not! I am more than skilled with blade and bow! I can fight, and you know it! I could defend Frodo! And more than once have I had visions to do with this matter! Adar, please!"
"No."
"I am meant to go, I know it!"
"This is nonsense," Elrohir snarled from beside her. "Sit down!"
"The child speaks reason," said Gandalf sharply. "I do not see why she should not go on this journey."
"She will not go because I forbid it!" Elrond growled.
"It may well be the will of the Valar."
"I do not care if Ilúvatar himself has ordained it," Elrond snapped at the wizard. "She is not going!"
"That's not fair!" Shëanon cried, her eyes burning with tears of frustration.
"I do not have to be fair."
"You're letting the hobbits go!" Shëanon yelled, furious and hurt.
"Those are the Hobbits!" Elrond shouted, losing his composure at last. "You are my daughter!"
"No, I'm not! I am not your daughter, and you are not my father!" she screamed.
Elrond stared at her, stunned, and Shëanon regretted her words immediately. There was a ringing silence, broken only by the splashing sound of water on rock.
"Am I not?" Elrond asked at last, looking at her as if he'd never seen her before. His voice was quiet and fierce and Shëanon bowed her head, ashamed. "Have I not been a father to you? Did I not take you in, raise you, give you a home and a family? Have I not loved you as I love my own children?"
Tears ran hot down Shëanon's face. "I did not mean it," she whispered, "I'm sorry. But I must go! I must help; I must do something! I have no purpose here. I cannot sit here any longer and do nothing. It kills me," she wept. She was frightened by the desperation in her own voice. "Please, Adar."
No one spoke, but Shëanon did not have the will to look up from the ground. She wiped at her eyes futilely.
There was suddenly an arm around her shoulders.
"I would look after her," Aragorn said solemnly. She heard Elrohir swear under his breath.
Shëanon sobbed. Everyone waited.
"Very well," Elrond said at last, tonelessly. "Go prepare yourselves. You leave at dawn."
With that he stepped past her and swept from the room.
Translations:
Adar- father
Hên nín- my child
Havo dad- Sit down
Cuiach erui na galu od Ilúvatar, Aulëhîn!- Only by Ilúvatar's mercy do you live, children of Aulë! (That's right, I went there! coughRACIST ELVEScough)
A/N: Hello, everyone! First of all, thank you so much to those of you who are reading! I'd like to apologize for going so deeply into the Council of Elrond and I hope it wasn't too drawn out. I kind of got carried away and I felt like what I included was important for the purpose of characterization, particularly for Shëanon and I guess for Boromir.
Also, I received a request that I include in text translations of the Elvish instead of putting it at the bottom of the chapter. The reason that I didn't do that before is that I feel like it kind of interrupts the story and most of the Elvish that I use is repeated several times and is not very important to the dialogue (hên nín, penneth, etc.) If everyone would rather I translate as I go, however, I will definitely do so! Let me know!
Thanks again for the feedback! This is probably one of the longest notes I'll ever tack on here, lol.