There was no dress for Aiedale Darklighter the next morning or elaborate braids in her hair. Instead there was just the severe black of her fighting gear and the glimmering sapphire on its silver chair accompanied by a heavy silver signet ring. Her hair was back in its normal braid, the hair style too severe for her face and yet fitting to. She was attending a council of war and would; she had no doubt, be the only woman there. Let these men, elves, dwarves and hobbits see her strange weapons – or at least the ones she choose to show – and see that she was as different from them as they were from each other.
Ignoring the opportunity of breakfast she went immediately to the council room, following the directions given to her by Lord Elrond when he had originally asked her the second day of her stay in Rivendell. Through the corridors of Imladris she walked and tried her best not to feel that being armed to teeth was not only awkward, but probably against some rule in this place. She had yet to see anyone go openly armed except on the training field and that did not count.
She walked through the corridors of Imladris as the pale, cool morning sunlight streamed through the open windows and arches. Slanting through the silver mist; the dew on the rapidly changing leaves glimmering, and the woven nets of gossamer spider webs twinkled. The mountains, high and cold, were crowned with white snow.
But most of Imladris was at the dining hall and so she met only a few elves – all of who greeted her with murmured words and courteous nods of their heads – on her walk to the council room. She responded to these greetings, but did not stop to engage in any conversation. The elves secretly intimidated her with those far-seeing and deep eyes which seemed to look at her and pull all her secrets out. She did not show it, refused to even acknowledge her unease, but she treated them with the same care she treated the Fey of her own land even though elves did not seem to share anything with them. They did not seem to have the malicious streak that the Fey did – the streak that could lead a Shadowhunter to a cruel death.
Aiedale came to a stop as she arrived at her destination. The morning light bathed the stone council room with bight fall light and belied the seriousness of what was to be discussed here very soon. Aiedale examined the terrace with a critical eye, unable to stop herself from comparing it to the council rooms she was used to. A circle of chairs surrounded a stone pedestal, a high-backed chair was placed behind it – most likely Lord Elrond would sit there. From each place, no matter where one sat, each person would be able to see all others, and each would have a clear view of the Ring.
A long table in a darkened library with matching dark wood, high backed chairs on which weapons were hung as Shadowhunters milled about talking with each other in low voices as they waited for the meeting to begin…
Moving towards the opposing row of chairs, she heard a faint scuffle and a smirk grew across her face. On silent feet she moved towards the thick stone pillars from which the noise had emanated. Turning so she faced towards the pedestal and leaning against a pillar she whispered softly, "You should move towards the alcoves over there they have better shadow than the pillar."
Without glancing around she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing as the scuffling went silent. This meeting would not be boring now. Hobbits, she had discovered, had a remarkable talent for mischief making. Not that she had been any better when she had been younger and desperate to know what was discussed behind closed doors in the elegant council room where her elders had closeted themselves for hours at a time.
Leaving the pillar she choose a chair and began to twirl a knife with one hand in boredom as, slowly, the other chairs began to be filled. She chose to ignore those who began to arrive in favor of simply examining the delicate carvings along the tops of each pillar. Occasionally she would glance around and see who had chosen a seat. There were dwarves – she had seen them the previous night – and various elves as well as a mundane with a proud, almost arrogant, face. He had the air of someone who has traveled a great distance very quickly and, on a baldric, a hunting horn tipped with silver was laid across his knees. She could make out runes, in a strange language, carved into the horn and she had the feeling it was very old.
At last Lord Elrond accompanied by Glorfindel, Gandalf and Aragorn entered to take the remaining seats. Aragorn was to Aiedale's right and Erestor to her left. She was glad that they were by her side acting as buffers between those she did not know.
Elrond remained standing and spread his arms in greeting. "I have called all of you here for a reason, by chance it may seem, you have arrived just in time. I welcome all of you and ask that you introduce yourselves so that all may know of who sits here and the place they come from."
Aiedale was one of the last. When it came her turn to speak she did so clearly and with no hesitation, "I am Aiedale Darklighter. My land," she paused and then said simply, "is not one you would be familiar with, any of you, but it is no stranger to darkness and I have journeyed far to reach this place." And she had, thought the young woman, though it was not a journey she had wished to take nor imagined taking. It was not a journey easily spoken of in this place either and she could see various expressions of curiosity crossing the gathered group's faces.
"A girl?" asked Lord Boromir turning his eyes to look at Lord Elrond with confusion. For, while the son of the Steward had heard a little of the skill and many accomplishments of the young woman and even seen her dancing the previous night, he could not set aside the things he had been taught. One of those things had been, most emphatically, that women did not attend councils of war nor did they fight as this young one seemed to. It was, therefore, impossible for him not to ask the question.
Lord Elrond did not have a chance to reply. Aiedale choose to. She had, in contrast to Lord Boromir, very different ideas about what women should and could do. In a voice made dangerous by its calm she smiled sweetly at the man even as her words fell heavy on the air. "Why shouldn't I be here?"
Boromir looked at her and, for a moment, he felt a twinge of uneasy. "You are very young," he said gently, "and you are a woman. The things we will discuss today are not suitable for your ears – for any woman's ears." He spoke them from a good place – he did not mean to insult her for he had been raised to be, at all times, polite and courteous.
Aiedale saw this. She even, to some extent, respected it. However, that did not mean she was not going to challenge his words. Continuing in her even voice she met his gaze and held it with steely determination.
"Perhaps you are right," she said and beside her Aragorn winced at the hard steel in her voice. Only a fool or an oblivious hobbit would think that her tone meant she was harmless. "But perhaps you will change your mind when I tell you this: I was born to stand against darkness and to fight it. I have handled weapons since I was a young child and took my first mission when I was twelve. I have watched comrades die and willing stepped in front of others to save them. I have seen entire, innocent families murdered merely because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time or did not understand what world they had entered. I have fought in a battle some called hopeless, but was won still and I continue to fight in a battle others call endless with no hope of success. I carry the guilt of failure and my heart has endured many breaks. I have seen both my mother and father lay down their lives and been taught what it means to sacrifice." She paused and let the words hang for a moment before adding a soft challenge, "Can you claim as much?"
Boromir was not sure what to say but, before he could manage anything, Aiedale added in her dangerously soft voice. "One day, soon, I will not be fast enough or clever enough. Like those who have come before me – like the ones I was not fast enough to save - I will fall and give my life in the name of duty and sacrifice. Do you still think to call me young?" A scornful smirk twisted her lips, "Do you still think to call me weak? Or unworthy of being a member of this Council?"
A dangerous silence settled between the Shadowhunter and the Lord. The dwarves and elven representatives who had not yet met Aiedale were unsure what to do or if they should do anything at all. There was a coldness in Aiedale's face and voice that made all who did not know a little of her afraid of her suddenly – even those who did felt uneasy. It was the calm of it; the vengeful and passionate anger was trapped beneath a layer of ice that could, at any moment, shatter. The dwarves would have said she was an unsteady rock that, when stepped upon, would suddenly shift and send you tumbling into a swift current.
Firmly and with a stern glance at both the Shadowhunter and the Lord, Elrond turned attention back to more important matters. "You have all done well to come," he said, "no that none of you stand alone nor is this fight won or lost. By the end of this council you will all understand the Shadow's actions and the course of action that must be taken." His speech was grave, compelling and it made Aiedale lean forward slightly as she began to commit every word, every name and battle, to memory.
And it began.
The Council of Elrond traced the history of the Ring through the ages of Middle Earth from the forging in the Second Age of the world to the Battle Dagorlad before the Black Gate of Mordor. How Isildur had cut the Ring from Sauron's hand with the hilt-shard of his father's sword and taken it for his own. Then how the Ring survived through the ages but how the world had withered even as the Shadow was beaten back. He spoke of unity and how if the races of Middle Earth, different as they were, did not unite then they would all fall.
When Elrond finished speaking the dwarves explained their mission and Boromir, anxious to defend his ancestors, spoke of how the land of Gondor had done its best not to forget all the pride or dignity of Numenor even as the power of the Black Land grew. Aiedale noted that the man was excellent speaker, his voice carried strongly and it was clear that he was used to being at the center of attention. His words stopped after he briefly summarized his journey and the dream which had sparked it and Boromir turned his gaze to the elf Lord who sat quietly, his brows drawn together in thought as he listened.
It was then, turning his gaze to Frodo that Elrond said, "Bring out the ring Frodo."
The hobbit hesitated for a long moment; it seemed as if showing the Ring to those present was somehow a mistake. His eyes, searching for reassurance, flickered from the wizard who nodded encouragingly to Aiedale who was gazing at him with those steady eyes. Something in them gave him the courage that had failed him before and, despite his reluctance to even touch the simple golden band with his hand, the hobbit drew it out and held the golden band up before all those present in one, slightly trembling, hand. The Ring glittered as if it knew, somehow, that it was on display. It seemed to fill the air with faint whispers, so faint that it was almost unnoticeable.
"The One Ring," said Gandalf solemnly.
It was Boromir who broke the hushed silence that had fallen as Frodo placed the Ring on the stone pedestal and then quickly drew back. His eyes glinting with some emotion he murmured, "The Halfling! Is the doom of Minbas Tirith come at last?"
Then he rose and with slow steady steps he began to circle the pedestal and spoke in that strangely hushed voice, "Isildur's Bane. Let me take it to Gondor and it will aid us in our battle against Sauron!" In his eyes a strange light awakened and his hand moved towards the Ring but, before he could touch it, Gandalf reacted. His movement surprisingly fast for such an ancient looking man even as he began to speak in a language so dark and terrifying that Aiedale closed her eyes and felt the handle of a knife with one hand. It reminded her of the foul language spoken by demons of which she knew only a few dialects, but this one was even crueler and more vicious then those. This one seemed to make the air freeze and the sky darkened. It was menacing and as harsh as stone against stone. The elves paled and some covered their ears while the dwarves stamped their boots as if trying to block the noise.
"Never has the language of Mordor been spoken here," said Elrond and, while he looked pale, his voice snapped with a reprimand equal to any that Aiedale's aunt could have spoken.
"I shall not apologize Master Elrond," said the wizard as he withdrew back to his seat. "For soon, if we do not act, that foul language will spread even as the darkness does. It is that darkness we must fight and we would be fools to ignore it any longer."
For a moment Aiedale was tempted to speak, she half wanted to, but it did not seem right. This was not her fight nor her world and she had little to do with its' saving. To Aiedale it seemed that this Council was going nowhere – they needed a decision and a path upon which to act. Shadowhunters, for all their petty ways and politics, seemed more effective at such matters then any who sat here.
Boromir – who seemed not to have gotten the hint – raised his hands in a placating gesture as he pleaded his case once more. "What will Gondor do? Our sacrifices have kept the darkness back but we cannot stand forever. We are hard pressed and soon, too soon, the tower of Minas Tirith will fall. Let us use it against Sauron." That his pain was genuine was clear to all and his love for his homeland equally obvious. Aiedale felt a flicker of respect for him even though, after his actions, she could not find any place within herself to like him. His voice may have been impassioned and his tongue silver, but it had little effect on her.
"You cannot wield it," stated Aragorn simply and his voice suddenly rang with command even as he seemed to grow and shift into that other side of himself – the King part of himself Aiedale decided. "Only Sauron can wield it."
"What," demanded Boromir, "do you, a Ranger of the North, know of this matter?" It was clear that he doubted Aragorn, that he could not see what stood before him and that blindness made Aiedale angry. She had come to count the ranger mundane as a friend and she did not like it when her friends were insulted.
'This is Aragorn son of Arathorn," said Elrond sternly and it was clear he wished this matter had not gotten in the way of other, more important, ones. "He is descended from Isildur who was Elendil's heir and, by right of birth, heir to the throne of Gondor as well as Chieftain of the Dunedain."
Boromir did not speak, though his feelings were clear upon his face. He did not feel the need to offer any kind of respect or loyalty to the lean Ranger dressed in elvish clothes no matter what sword hung at his side or what roads he had walked. Aiedale felt like punching him. Once more she had to carefully detach herself from the situation lest she act on her impulses and gave the man a broken nose. Somehow she didn't think it would be good for her personal relations…
Once more talk was firmly turned back to the One Ring and Galdor of the Grey Havens voiced his own questions even as the dwarves did there's. Aiedale closed her eyes briefly. Such talk of doom and great deeds made her feel rather uncomfortable – Shadowhunters did not deal with such things. They kept to the straightforward path of action and consequence where honor or glory held no place. She listened as Bilbo began to speak and explained how, after so many centuries, the Ring had fallen into his care. It was in this part of the tale that Aiedale found herself sitting a little straighter as she came to understand why, out of all the hobbits she had so far met, Bilbo was both the most experienced but also the most understanding of her situation.
She did not bother with listening too closely as Frodo spoke, haltingly, of his journey to Rivendell and she felt only a small twinge of appreciation for the neat way he avoided discussing exactly how she had joined his small group. The warrior felt no need to speak nor to comment until the matter of Sauroman's betrayal - one of the wizards of Gandalf's order – was brought up and how Gandalf had been held hostage by his once friend. She could not stop herself from snorting, it was the kind of thing warlocks in her land would do and it only made her surer that trusting Gandalf would be a mistake. What if he proved as changeable as this old ally of his?
Then, at last, that a course of action was decided upon: the Ring had to go South. Now it was just a matter of who would take it and on that issue there were so many contentious voices that Aiedale found herself wanting to scream with frustration. It was on par with a few of the more insane Downworlder meetings she had attended as a mediator and that was saying something. Even thinking about what it was like to have a vampire and a werewolf in the same room as a Faerie Queen and a warlock made her wince. However, just like then, everyone had an opinion and everyone wanted it heard – all except for Elrond, Frodo and Bilbo. Even Gandalf had entered the fray, his own voice speaking with frustrated anger as he reminded all present of the end goal: destroy Ring in fires of Mount Doom. Aragorn and Boromir were beginning to actually look like they might fight and it didn't take a wizard to know that Aragorn would have had the support of all the elves – especially the Prince of Mirkwood.
So she gave up and stared, angrily, at what seemed such a smug little bit of gold. If rings could wear a satisfied smirk then this one would be. She much preferred her own silver signet ring that hung beside her large sapphire pendent. It didn't whisper and it was highly useful in certain situations. This Ring on the other hand...A headache brought on by the shouting and the whispering darkness of the Ring made her close her eyes briefly. What she wouldn't do for a bit of hunting right now to rid herself of her irritation…
A voice rang out. It was a small voice and it didn't really ring. Maybe it was because it was small and the person who spoke looked so nervous and yet so determined that people just had to stop and listen. As it was the speaker did not really think it was his voice at all, it sounded so strange to him and went against every instinct in his heart and every dream he had ever dreamt.
"I will take it," said Frodo and then he seemed to realize that everyone from the wood elves to the dwarves to the men to the wizard were all staring at him in stunned silence.
Aiedale sat forward, her eyes widening as she stared at this little hobbit in downright astonishment. What was he thinking?! Did he listen? Had he not already heard what kind of journey he was setting out on, a journey were everything was against them and the chance of success was so slim that only a Shadowhunter would think it was there?
"I do not know the way," continued Frodo and his voice, while small, seemed to grow in strength and determination. "But I will take it. It has come to me as Bilbo's heir," he glanced at his pale, wide eyed uncle, "and I will see it done." He had risen and was standing before the pedestal, his little face lifted up and his hands clenched at his sides. The silence was stifling and no one seemed to know what to say.
Aiedale couldn't stop herself, "What?" Her voice rising with stunned anger, "You will do what?"
Everyone whipped around, everyone who had forgotten the silent black clothed girl suddenly remembering her cold words and old eyes which now flashed dangerously. "You are a hobbit," she continued in a quickly rising voice, "and I did not save your little life to have you go and volunteer for something that will get you killed!" It was true – she had worked long and hard keeping this little hobbit and this stupid piece of jewelry safe and she did not want it all to go to waste nor did she want him thinking he was forced into the job. It had to be his choice, he had to face her and tell her that it was without any doubt or he would not see it done.
Frodo didn't know what to do, but somehow he found a voice. So, trembling, he swallowed and said, "I will take it." His words were firm and, despite the small quiver to his mouth, there was no doubt that he meant what he was saying.
Aiedale looked at him hard and long before she nodded once. "Fine," she said coldly, "I understand."
"It is a heavy burden," warned Elrond. "So heavy that none could lay it on another and I do not lay it on you. But," said the elf lord and his grey eyes were keen as they looked at the hobbit, "if you take it freely then it would be the right choice and the only choice for the Ring."
"You will not go alone," said Gandalf coming up to stand behind the hobbit. "I shall go with you and show you the way."
"And I," said Aragorn. "For I have stood by you before and I shall do it again. Besides," he said with a faint smile, "my road would take me this way anyways and better to travel with good company then by oneself."
"I will go," said Legolas of Mirkwood and his fair elvish face was set with determination. "This is a matter that involves all in Middle Earth." His deep crystal blue eyes unreadable and his fine bow slung across his back. His traveling companions, three proud and silver haired elves, looked on grimly as did the other elves who knew him well like Glorfindel and Erestor.
"If the elf goes," came the booming voice of the youngest looking dwarf who had been introduced as Gimli who had argued so passionately against an elf carrying the Ring. "Then I will go to." The elf prince looked for a moment rather pained before his face turned blank.
"I too will go," said Boromir with a quick glance at Aragorn. "For this journey will either save or destroy my land and perhaps it will lead me home in time to do whatever can be done." With that he took his place beside the wizard who stood behind Frodo along with the dwarf and elf.
"What about us?" came the sudden voice of three hobbits who all tumbled out from their various hiding places.
"You can't send him off without us!" cried Sam.
"Of course we will go!" said Merry looking as if the suggestion of not going was incredibly insulting.
Elrond looked as if he was tempted to groan in irritation, but the elf lord restrained himself and settled for a long look at Gandalf who just shrugged. "I suppose," said the elf Lord and it was clear that he would rather have spared the three hobbits from the journey that lay before them. "It is hardly possible to separate you from him when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not!"
The hobbits didn't look at all discouraged nor at all put out to be standing next to such great warriors and heroes. They seemed merely glad to be standing by their friend who looked a little less grim to have the three with him. Aiedale had to stifle her amusement and she could barely keep herself from smiling at the sight of the four small hobbits next to the shining elf, the hardy dwarf and the towering man of Gondor with his proud face.
Gandalf turned and looked at her. Aiedale inwardly groaned. No! She knew what that look meant, could see the request written in those eyes as clearly as she could see the sun.
"Aiedale?" asked the wizard quietly and yet there was a firm demand in those words. A demand that made her instantly resent him and rebel. She had not forgiven him for being unable to help her and she was in no mood to give him anything – if Frodo or Aragorn or even Sam, Merry or Pippen had asked then she might have agreed but they had not and so she would not offer.
"No," she said in her coldest voice even as her conscious twinged with pity for Frodo. All eyes were on her.
"I know only a fraction of your capabilities," said the wizard, "I would be a fool not to know your value on a mission like this." His gaze was focused and all in the Council room seemed to hold their breath as the old wizard and the young warrior met each other's wills. All, even those who knew Aiedale a little like the hobbits or even Glorfindel, wondering what skills the wizard spoke of and why he was so desperate to retain her loyalty. "If you come with us we may find a way for you to return…"
It was a dirty trick on the part of the wizard and it angered Aiedale more than she showed to the Council. "Tell me Gandalf," she said, "did my mother ever tell you this? It is a lesson all Shadowhunters learn early: everything has a price." Her eyes flickered to Frodo and then back again, "Already I have done more than many Nephilim in this position would have. For what? A vague explanation that you gave with no promise?"
Aiedale felt her desperation rise within her even as she forced herself to argue with the wizard. She wanted to go home and it did not feel right to leave Frodo like this. But nor did she want the wizard to think she came freely or that, at the end, she could just be discarded with no strings attached. She wanted a promise as binding as any oath she gave in the name of the Angel and she would settle for no less. It was not the chance of danger or death that made her hold back, but the idea that she was just expected to sacrifice for something that, in the end, she did not really care about. Her life was given to another world and another duty – there had to be a reason for her to shift it.
"I promise I will help you return to your land in any way I can," said the wizard seriously without a trace of a lie in his deep grey eyes.
"How do I know you will keep that promise?" demanded the warrior and she ignored the gasps uttered by a few of the elves at her accusing tone. "When I give my loyalty I will not step away, no matter the circumstance, and I want the same promise from you. I want to know that my service will be compensated." Aiedale had eyes only for the wizard and she did not care if her words or demands were shocking.
"Upon my word," said the wizard, "as Gandalf the Grey, a wizard of Middle Earth, before all those present today, I swear that I will do all in my power to see you, Aiedale Darklighter, returned to your own land." The silence that fell as the words faded away like hammer blows was thick and so complete that Aiedale could hear the faint thud of her heartbeat.
She knew that was an oath as binding as she could hope to get. Once more she turned her eyes to Frodo and she saw the fear, the determination and the pure innocence - the joy - he felt in life written there as clearly as the sun. It wasn't fair what he was going to have to do and she knew how unfair life could be. Glancing at Aragorn she remembered the friendship that he offered her and she did not even want to look at the hobbits that seemed to her like copies of the brother, the cousins, she had left behind. It was as if she had no choice. She didn't. They needed her and she needed them – needed to find a way home just as she had needed to go with them the first time she met them.
Walking forward, Aiedale kneeled before Frodo who was looking at her with wide, confused eyes. Drawing out a slender seraph blade she held it up to the hobbit and said, without glancing at the wizard, the oath that no Shadowhunter would ever break. "I, Aiedale Darklighter a sworn member of the Nephilim, swear by the Angel Raziel that I will stand by you in this journey until my death or you no longer require my assistance." As she spoke the blade flickered with white light and it seemed to all present that they had just witnessed something they could not understand nor had ever heard of before. Which they had not. The name 'Raziel' or the oaths of a Shadowhunter were not something Middle Earth had ever heard or felt before.
Frodo did not know what to say. He could not find any words that could even come close to expressing the emotions he felt inside. There was relief that this fierce warrior was standing beside him, but also fear and determination. Acting on impulse, unaware of what he was doing, the young hobbit stretched a hand out and touched the slender shoulder of Aiedale. Her eyes never leaving his and then, quietly, the hobbit said, "Thank you." Then not knowing why or how he knew the name was important to her only that hobbits often shortened names, "'Day."
Her eyes widened and he somehow knew that the name "Day" was a nickname – the kind of name her brother or friends might have called her and, by saying it, he had both accepted her as his guardian but as a friend.
Aiedale could not help it, she laughed even as her heart twinged painfully. "Ah hobbits," she said with a faint smile as she rose and slipped the knife away, "I thought I knew all there was to know about you. Yet," she glanced over the determined faces of the other three Halflings, "I think I will never really understand you."
Before any more could be said or any questions asked, she turned and left. But even as she left the council room and made her way to a secluded garden she had come to like, Aiedale could not stop her heart from speeding up with adrenalin. She was on the move once more; she had a purpose and a road to follow. In the end, no matter how terrible the journey or how bittersweet that ending, she was a Shadowhunter and warriors of shadow are not meant to sit idle while there is darkness to be fought and friends to be saved.
"What would you do for your brother?" asked her eldest cousin as he sorted through a pile of throwing knives.
"Anything," was her immediate response, "everything." Then after a brief pause, "The same for you and everyone else – you are my family to. What about you?"
He turned and his blonde hair caught the candle light as his intense blue eyes – so like his father's own eyes - met her own. "Anything," he said and a small smile flickered across his face. "Everything. No matter where I had to go or what I had to do."
I am sorry this took so long but, too put it mildly, my life went to pieces two weeks ago and then everything was (sort of) back together only for it to happen all over again two days ago. One of the few reliefs I have had has been in my horses. So writing has been on the back burner and school, horses and traveling + competing at horse shows have taken priority until I finally realized that writing was a pretty important piece of who I am and I had better start doing it again. So I wrote this chapter in a couple of hours and I really want to thank all of my readers - I write it for fun but it is your comments that inspire me.
Review Replies:
Lady Archer: Awe you are the awesome one! I am sorry if this chapter feels strange - it was a rushed composition and I hope I did a decent enough job on this scene. It is one of my favorites to :) thank you for the review
Flames of Youth: Glad you like it! Yes - I think that scene will be epic! :) Thanks for the review and I hope you don't mind this rushed bit of chapter posting.
LittleNK: you can decide for yourself: did she or didn't she kick his ass? I guess she sort of did!
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