Alone Facing Darkness

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters, film dialogue, settings, etc…And also the ideas from the book that I’ve chosen to incorporate into this story. Rivendell needed a few more scenes, so I had to draw from what sources there were. Tell me what you think…

At long last, chapter seven. My muse decided to go on strike for a few months, but finally decided to return. Much thanks to VanaTheEverYoung, and Alquavani for doing the beta work. And hooray! I now know how to do italics on this site!




~Chapter 7: The Council and the Fellowship~

“That’s not fair!” Hermione railed, crossing her arms and scowling as she sat on her bed.

“It’s what he said,” Harry repeated wearily for the umpteenth time. He and Ron had been trying to placate Hermione for the past hour or so, listening to her rant about the idiocy of males as she stalked around her room. From what it looked like, it wasn’t easy to stalk in a flowing skirt. Ron’s head came up from where he had been resting it on the back of a rather ornate chair.

“’Mione, it’s not our fault. We’ll try to talk to Elrond and Gandalf about it, maybe they’ll change their minds…”

“Not if the other – Men – coming to the Council have anything to say about it.”

At least they hadn’t had to restrain her with their wands. As Ron tried yet again to calm her down, Harry reflected on what Gandalf had said.

“Among the Valar there is a legend…A soul manifested only to counter the deepest, darkest kind of evil…It is not uncommon to remember things of past lives…Tell no one.”

Oh, yes, Harry had been suspecting something of the sort all along, at least in the back of his brain. But to know that the Valar, whoever they were, had only one purpose in mind for him…It felt so…It made him feel so inexplicably helpless, but angry at the same time. Was he no more than a tool in the grand scheme of things, with no control over his fate? Would he never have the power to direct the course of his life?

He remembered Dumbledore’s words. There is more to the fight between yourself and Voldemort than we realized…It is indeed fate that you should be the one to combat this evil. Did Dumbledore know about it? How? Of course the encounter with Voldemort was inevitable, but to know that he had been born merely to do that…What would he do if he vanquished Voldemort? How would his spirit find rest from all the emotional scars inflicted on it? How would he ever live a normal life?

And then another one of those cursed visions stole upon him. He saw a harbor, a cove of sorts, and smelled salt upon the air. By the slight rocking motion under his feet he knew he was on a boat. Looking back towards the dock, he saw Sam, Merry, and Pippin, tears streaming down their faces…He smiled at them, at last he was going to have the rest he so desired…

Blinking, he wrenched himself back to Hermione’s room in Rivendell. Curse those visions. Frodo’s memories.

He now understood, in part, why he felt so familiar with Frodo. If what Gandalf had been hinting at was true, he was a reincarnation of the Hobbit. Perhaps it made sense. Since Frodo was the one carrying the Ring, wasn’t he the one at the center of the conflict with Sauron, the Dark Lord who was the very embodiment of evil?

It was a rather disconcerting thought, if not entirely unexpected. And if the vision he had just seen was indeed Frodo’s memory, then Frodo would one day find peace and full healing of the wounds inflicted upon him throughout the journey…

Unless he, Harry, interfered with the course of events. Unless his actions caused the Hobbit to fail in his quest – for undoubtedly, there would be one with Frodo at the center of it – and the Enemy triumphed. And in that case, Harry and his friends would be trapped here forever, unable to return to Hogwarts. Not that there would be any Hogwarts to return to…This was beginning to make his head spin. Too much thinking about the possible consequences did that. Such a small thing could unravel the course of events that led up to the building of Hogwarts, the building of the time they came from…And from the sound of Gandalf’s voice, if Sauron won there would most likely be a Dark Age of death and destruction that would follow this one…There would never be any going back, never…

“What do you think, Harry? Harry?”

He surfaced from the depths of his mind to look over at Ron, who was giving him a quizzical look. “Er…Sorry, Ron, I missed what you said…I’m just thinking…”

“You do that a lot lately.” Ron grinned. “At least you’re responding…Anyways, what do you think about us going to Elrond and Gandalf and asking if Hermione can come, we can threaten to hex them if they don’t…”

“The asking is okay, but I dunno about the hexing. Gandalf seems like he’d be a pretty powerful Wizard.” For some reason, the twinkling blue gaze surfaced in his mind. “Along the lines of Dumbledore, if not more powerful. Doesn’t he remind you of Dumbledore?”

“Actually, yes, a little,” remarked Hermione. “Though it seems like Gandalf hides his power…With Dumbledore, you feel it all the time.” She paused, inclining her head. “Perhaps it’s because his magic is different, like he said.”

“Or maybe you get that impression because he wears a grey tent, not nice robes,” Ron said. “Hey, I wonder…we should also ask him if our magic will work here. You know, about the Ringwraiths.”

Hermione shuddered. “Those things are worse than dementors. At least with a dementor, if you have someone who can do a Patronus Charm on hand…” She gave Harry a sidelong glance.

“The Patronus Charm didn’t work, like I already said. Maybe it’s the more powerful spells that don’t work, or the ones that we use for defense…The Summoning Charm worked just fine,” Harry reflected.

“What say we try one of those defense charms on someone?” Ron asked.

“What sorts of charms?”

“Oh, nothing too damaging…Perhaps just a Stunning Spell…”

“I’d like to use that on one of those unsuspecting Men coming to the Council,” Herimone said darkly.

“Can’t do that,” Harry said. “They’ve got weapons, knives and swords most probably…they’d probably attack us, thinking that we were the Enemy.”

“Then who?”

“No idea. Merry and Pip might find it amusing if we did it to them, though,” Ron said.

Harry and Hermione laughed appreciatively for a few moments before silence fell upon the trio. Harry glanced at Hermione. Her eyebrows were drawn downward in a frown of deep thought, and she was looking at nothing in particular. Then she spoke.

“Ron, Harry…I’ve been thinking about this for days now…Well, things may be worse than we think.”

“Why? Just look at where we are, ’Mione! It’s better than any vacation!”

“Oh, Ron, you really are shortsighted. Think of the long-term effects of our being here. I’ve done a bit of research already…Rivendell is where one of the most powerful Elven rulers of this time lives. You, know, Elrond. And Gandalf isn’t just an obscure wizard…It took me a while to puzzle it out, but he has so many names that everyone here in Middle-Earth knows him by one or another. Don’t you understand? We’ve made contact with some of the most powerful figures of this time. We have no idea how much our presence here will influence the decisions they make…”

“Such an optimist,” Ron commented.

“Be serious!” Hermoine’s words were tumbling out with greater rapidity each time she spoke. “Look, if we make a wrong move here…”

“There might not be any Hogwarts to go back to,” Harry finished for her. He turned to Ron. “I hate to be the voice of doom, but that’s the way it is. If something we do causes events to not play out as they should, Sauron’ll win and history from that point on will be different.”

“And another thing,” Hermione said. “We’ve told quite a bit of our story to Strider and the Hobbits and Gandalf. What if one of them takes it into his head to write it down somewhere? And I know that books of this time have made it all the way into the school library. Do you know who There and Back Again was by? Although I don’t suppose that you’ve seen it…”

“I have,” Harry said. “But Madame Pince came and said it was one of the oldest books in the library. I had no idea why it was just lying out on the table.”

“Usually it’s in the Restricted Section, because it’s so precious,” Hermione said. “I have no idea how it survived so long. Any guesses?”

Ron ventured to say, “Frodo?”

“Close. It’s by his uncle Bilbo.”

Harry’s and Ron’s mouths dropped open in surprise. “Seriously?”

“I’m sure of it. And if Bilbo could write a book like that, I’m sure that Frodo would be capable of doing it too, seeing as he’s Bilbo’s heir. Bilbo probably taught him.”

“And we told Frodo a lot about ourselves…” Harry said slowly.

“Right. If he ever writes it down…Let’s just say that his book survives and makes its way into the Hogwarts library. And who went to Hogwarts?”

“Well, most every witch and wizard from up and down Britain has gone there…”

“Don’t be stupid, Ron. Voldemort went there, years and years before we did.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even considered this possibility. “Oh, no…”

“What? Am I missing something here?” Ron demanded.

“If Voldemort reads an account of his own defeat before he’s even out of Hogwarts, he’d probably never attack me when I was…am…oh, whatever. He wouldn’t attack me as a baby.”

“So? You live a perfectly normal life, same as the rest of us. Except that you won’t be as famous…”

“I wouldn’t miss that. But I’d probably be a different person entirely. Or not even exist. Or something.”

“A paradox,” Hermione said very simply.

Harry sat down on a chair, placed his head and his hands and groaned, “What are we going to do?”

“Staying out of everyone’s way would be a start,” Hermione said. “We should make ourselves so insignificant that everyone forgets about us. But other than that, I honestly have no idea.”

“We’ll decide on that later,” Ron said. “Er…why don’t we talk to Gandalf or Elrond about letting Hermione into the Council now, just to watch? It must be almost time for supper, they’re bound to be near a dining hall of sorts…”

“Do you have any idea how to get there?” Harry asked. They hadn’t ventured much farther than beyond their rooms without someone to follow. Breakfast had been a light meal laid out in their rooms, and they had taken their lunch with the Hobbits out in the gardens. Harry had been astonished by how much those small beings could put away; truth to tell, only Ron was able to keep up with their appetites. Barely. He had had an eating contest with Merry and Pippin, much to everyone else’s amusement, but he’d tottered around rather unsteadily for a few hours afterward, trying to hold his food down. The two youngest Hobbits had found this mightily funny, but Ron had sworn that he would never eat again.

“Well, no…” Ron trailed off. Fortunately, at that moment, Frodo emerged from around the corner with Bilbo leaning on his arm. The older Hobbit looked up and saw the three teenagers.

“Hullo!” His voice was jovial, if slightly tired. “Frodo was just telling me all about you! I should like to speak with you sometime. I am writing a book and am gathering all the stories I can…Though perhaps Frodo will be the one to write it. In my old age I’ve become rather forgetful.”

“Bilbo, they’ve scarcely met you!” Frodo laughed. “Perhaps some other time. Their tale is dark and strange, not one of those you would tell on a day like this…or night, for that matter,” he added, seeing the sun sinking in the west.

“Not too unlike yours, my lad,” Bilbo responded. He turned to face Ron. “I did hear you speaking of food. Come, follow us. We are going to the dining hall; Elrond is having a feast tonight. To celebrate Frodo’s return to health.” He patted his nephew’s arm fondly. “We were so worried.”

“But I’m perfectly fine now, Bilbo. Let’s go – we want to be there before Merry and Pippin devour everything.”

Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head. “Have you never seen a feast at Rivendell? I doubt that even those two young rascals will leave the table without feeling completely satisfied.”

Harry grinned at Ron. “You feeling up to it? Or are you still too full from lunch?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to have those two laughing at me.”

Hermione gave a somewhat derisive snort. “If you’re sick again, it’s not our fault.”

“Never!” Suddenly Ron gave an elegant – albeit extravagant – bow. “Shall I escort you to the dining hall, fair lady?”

Harry, Frodo, and Bilbo were struggling not to laugh as they watched Hermione’s face turn red. Odd, Harry thought, that Ron would do something like that. Maybe the air on Middle-earth was getting to his head?

“I…I…I shall be honored,” Hermione managed, still blushing furiously. Harry didn’t know how to read her expression or the tone of her voice. Ron took her by the arm and they began walking away.

“Oy!” Harry called. “I thought you didn’t know the way to the dining hall?” So, Ron liked Hermione. Not that he’d been incapable of seeing that before, what with the way they bickered constantly. Of course, they were already close friends, not like it had been with himself and Cho Chang…But chasing girls was something of the past, at least for him. He knew intuitively that Frodo had a long existence ahead of him, but not one that involved any Hobbit woman. Would he be condemned to the same? At sixteen, that seemed to be looking too far ahead.

Bilbo trotted up next to him. “No problem, I’ll show you the way. I’ve been living here for the past seventeen years…or is it eighteen? Whatever it is, I know my way around.” Clearly eager to get to the dining hall, he walked forward energetically with Frodo following closely.

The hall was magnificent, with a high, arching roof and tables fairly laden with food. The cool autumn air that came in from the outside was warmed by fires, and the first stars of twilight were just visible through the large windows. There were a great many Elves in the room, all of who regarded the three Hogwarts students curiously. Sitting somewhat separately from the Elves were other beings, too short of stature to be men but certainly not Hobbits, judging by the thick beards they sported. Harry guessed they were Dwarves – they did remind him a little of the ones in the animated Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Bilbo and Frodo made their way over to them. Feeling more comfortable sitting with people they knew, Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed.

Bilbo walked toward a group of empty places next to a white-haired Dwarf with a merry expression before stopping to bow. “Bilbo Baggins at your service,” he said politely. There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Gloin at yours and your family’s,” replied the Dwarf, turning around to face the Hobbit. He laughed richly. “Is this where you’ve been all these years? What of visiting the Lonely Mountain?”

“I really did mean to…But, Gloin, I’m old. I’m no longer fit for such a journey through the Wild.”

“Ahh…Well, for your information, Bombur’s grown so fat that he can no longer move himself.”

Bilbo’s lips turned upward, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, that is not so hard to imagine. Who else has come with you?”

The Dwarf – Gloin – gestured to his other side. “My son, Gimli, and a few other kinsmen.” Gimli looked like his father, except that his braided beard and hair were brown. At the moment, he was too busy eating and talking with his fellow Dwarves to notice. “We arrived not too long ago.”

“It’s just like old times,” Bilbo sighed. “A reunion.”

Gloin’s expression clouded for a moment, but he kept his tone light. “Certainly. Now, why don’t you sit down and enjoy this marvelous food? For all their shortcomings,” he added in a lower voice, “the Elves are certainly masterful cooks.”

It was, indeed, magnificent. Never had bread tasted any fresher or fruits sweeter than when Harry and his friends ate them now. There was cold, clear water to drink as well as a few excellent wines. Harry and Hermione, preferring the water, only took a few sips, but Ron took a goblet of wine. Well, more than one. He waved away his friends’ comments that he was looking rather tipsy.

* * *

Soon after his – what was it, fourth or fifth? – plate, Bilbo had fallen asleep and was snoring gently, his head on Frodo’s shoulder. Gloin scrutinized the younger Hobbit closely.

“So you’re the one he adopted as his heir?” Frodo nodded in response. “I wonder, what brings you and your companions here, all the way from the Shire? It does not seem to be a family reunion.”

Frodo chose his words carefully. “It’s neither safe to travel alone nor to speak of the reason I am here.”

“Ah. Cryptic now, laddie? I suppose it has something to do with the Council that Elrond called us here for.”

“Perhaps.” Frodo had no doubt that the Ring was the reason for the Council the following day, but he had no desire to reveal his secret at the moment. Trying to steer the conversation away from that dangerous topic, he asked, “What news do you have of the Lonely Mountain? Bilbo often told me of his adventures through the Misty Mountains to the other side of Mirkwood to Esgaroth.”

Frodo tried to read the Dwarf’s expression. The words came out slowly, deliberately. “Oh, we Dwarves do well enough. Our craft today cannot mimic the masters of old, but Men and even the occasional Elf from Mirkwood still think them very fine. Even Bilbo bought numerous trinkets once, for his one-hundred eleventh birthday. Your thirty-third birthday fell on the same day, if I’m not mistaken…” He waited for Frodo’s nod of agreement before continuing. “That was a busy time. Did your Hobbit friends enjoy them?”

“Oh, yes, very much,” Frodo said. “What about the other Dwarves who went on the journey? Balin and the others?”

Gloin’s face fell. “Balin…He went to Moria with a few of the other companions. He hoped to recapture to glory of the days long past, when Moria would shine brightly with the fires in the halls of the Dwarves. For the first few months hopeful messages flew back and forth between the Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf and the Lonely Mountain. But then…nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” Frodo could not think of what else to say. He looked out towards the window. The brightest stars of the night were now visible against the midnight blue canopy of sky. Over the now quiet talk, he was able to hear the rustle of the leaves on the branches as the wind gently stirred them, as well as the gentle sound of water as the stream babbled over and around rocks. He gave a contented sigh. Here, in Rivendell, he could happily spend the rest of his days. But while the Ring still existed, no peace would remain for long.

His uncle gave a particularly loud snore. Frodo glanced down at the curly white head. Bilbo had always seemed young and energetic before. Of course it was the Ring that had kept him looking like that, young and spry, never aging a day. Even when Bilbo had approached the age of one hundred, the much younger Frodo had sometimes been hard-pressed to keep up during their walks through the Shire. Now time was catching up to the old Hobbit. There were more wrinkles in his smiling face, and his hair had turned a snowy white. And while it had indeed been a full seventeen years since he had last seen Bilbo, Frodo felt that the weight of years had fallen upon his uncle more quickly than usual.

He looked down the table at the trio of young wizards. Ron seemed to be enjoying himself as he talked with Merry and Pippin. The girl, Hermione, was watching him worriedly. As he scrutinized Ron further, he noticed that his speech had become a little slurred. Apparently he did not know just how strong Elven wine could be.

Harry, however, was looking pensively into his goblet, not drinking. His brow was furrowed in a slight frown, and he was tapping the frame of his strange lenses – he called them glasses – with his right index finger.

What was it about this young boy that he recognized so well? They had at least one thing in common, being orphans. But Frodo knew – rather, felt – that that was not all. Whatever it was, he did not know what to make of it. And even if he did, such knowledge could be dangerous.

Well, there was another thing they had in common. Harry was pursued by the Dark Lord of his time, and Frodo by the agents of Sauron. He could identify with the boy’s situation to a certain extent. But Harry had had this – Voldemort, was it? – after him ever since he was born. He had never had the opportunity to live a carefree youth, unlike Frodo himself. It was a pity to see a mere boy lose his younger years to darkness. For Frodo, those years had already gone by. He had thought his future lost when his mother and father died, but Bilbo had shown him otherwise.

It was more than just having several things in common, though. He felt that there was recognition of some sort, an inexplicable familiarity. For even though most of Frodo’s memories of his recent illness were dark and dim, the veil had once lifted and he had seen a particular look in the boy’s eyes. The look was one of understanding. Frodo did not know how to explain how he saw it – but Harry had somehow understood what Frodo was going through.

Could Harry have had a similar experience in the world of the future?

Perhaps the answer would reveal itself to him in time. Maybe he would find out at the Council the next day.

* * *

The feast ended rather late – indeed, it seemed that the Elves did not grow tired at any point, for at the end they all filed out to another hall to listen to songs and tales, as Lord Elrond had announced at the end of the feast. Harry saw Frodo and Bilbo following the Elves, clearly eager to hear such lore. Well, considering that Frodo had had so much sleep, it was not surprising that he was so energetic.

On the other hand, Harry and his friends had found themselves too tired to continue. Sam was nowhere to be found – probably gone to look after Frodo, as he usually did – but Merry and Pippin followed them until they had reached their rooms and said good night. At the moment, Harry and Hermione were leading a rather tipsy Ron back to his own room.

“See, Ronald, when you drink too much, this is what happens,” Hermione said sternly, catching him as he stumbled for the umpteenth time.

“’Mione, Ima jus’ fine…”

She snorted. “Indeed. Your speech is slurred, and you can’t find your way back to your room by yourself.”

“That Elvish wine must be strong,” Harry said, raising a hand to his forehead. “I took some, but not a whole lot, and even I feel a bit warm…”

“At least you didn’t take nearly as much as this hopeless mess,” Hermione said quietly with a shake of her head. Ron did not seem to hear.

The trio finally reached the entrances to their rooms. Ron’s and Hermione’s were both directly across the hall from Harry’s.

“Well, good night,” Harry said before slipping into his room. He heard Hermione bid Ron good night as she stepped away from him to open her door before Ron spoke.

“’Mione…” Harry, who was just about to close his door behind him, turned around and peered through the crack.

Hermione didn’t even get the chance to make an irritable comment or cry out. Ron reached out and pulled her into his arms, lifting her onto her tiptoes to bring her face up to meet his before giving her a rather rough and drunken kiss on the lips. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment before fully realizing what was happening. All too quickly for Ron’s liking, she pushed away, looking mortified. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out.

Ron gave a sheepish grin before retreating into his chamber and closing the door. The last thing Harry saw before he shut the hall out of sight was Hermione standing frozen in the hall, rage and embarrassment warring on her reddened face.

* * *

Frodo was awakened by Gandalf early the next morning. His appetite had come back in full force; he was about to rush off to find a morsel to eat when Sam came to his door, carrying a tray laden with food.

“’Morning, Mr. Frodo. I thought you’d be hungry, so I went to get you a little something from the kitchens before that Council, seeing as you’re going to be in there for a while.”

Frodo smiled. “As a matter of fact, Sam, I was just about to look for something. Thank you.”

Sam stood watching him concernedly as he applied himself to the soft, warm bread, crisp apples, and tea. Finally Frodo looked up and asked, “What is it, Sam?”

The gardener shook his head. “Nothing, Mr. Frodo. It’s just…Remember how you said that we’d would go back to the Shire soon?”

Frodo nodded.

“Well, sir, I don’t know what it is, but I’m getting the feeling that that’s not going to happen. The road looks darker just ahead.”

For a moment Frodo wondered what had come over Sam. He looked just the same, but his brown eyes were unusually thoughtful and sad.

“Oh, come now, Sam. Of course we’ll go home.”

“And what about the Ring?”

Frodo shuddered and touched his left shoulder briefly. Ever since he had been wounded by the Morgul-knife he had sensed the evil force that filled the Ring much more clearly, as if a tenuous link between his mind and Sauron’s had been established. That awareness seemed to grow whenever the Ring was mentioned aloud. “I don’t know. But let’s not talk about that right now. I am sure I will hear enough about it later.”

They continued to reminisce about the Shire until Gandalf came to the door with Harry and Ron in tow.

“Frodo, the Council is ready to begin. They only require your presence and mine.”

The Hobbit eyed the two young Wizards curiously. “And theirs?”

Gandalf glanced backward at Harry and Ron. “Well…”

“Really, Mr. Gandalf, I don’t think they ought to be trusted too far. They might look young and innocent, but what if it’s someone from the Enemy in disguise?” The two young men stiffened at Sam’s words.

Sam had a very good point, but something told Frodo otherwise. “I can assure you, Sam, they mean no harm.”

“And just how do you know that, Mr. Frodo? Begging your pardon, but you’ve only known them for a few days.”

“Trust me.” How else was he supposed to respond? He turned to Gandalf. “Let us go, then.”

They proceeded down the hall in silence, not noticing the uninvited Sam following them.

* * *

Harry and Ron sat down next to each other upon the two chairs closest to Gandalf. There was no other place for them; their two chairs had been hastily added to the circle of seats that surrounded a small stone pedestal. Harry noted that he and Ron were met by curious stares, as well as a few low murmurs. Even Elrond regarded them with a frown. He walked up to Gandalf, and the two began conversing in low tones. Harry strained his ears to listen.

“I cannot allow them to join us,” said Elrond. “These matters are far beyond the understanding of ones so young.”

“They have endured much in their lives, young though they are,” replied the wizard.

“I fear the effect this Council may have on two so young and innocent. I will only allow one to stay.”

“They are wiser than you know.”

Elrond looked at Harry and Ron and shook his head. “Surely you have seen it. There is no possibility that he can stay.” With that, the Elf straightened and returned to his seat.

Gandalf sighed and turned to face them. “Ronald…”

Ron gave the Wizard a too-curious look. Undoubtedly he too had been eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I must ask you to leave.”

Ron stood up and gave a stiff nod. His expression gave away little, but his ears had turned red, a sure sign that he was angry.

“Ron…” Harry started, but his friend did not even look at him. Instead, he swept past without a word.

Elrond waited until Ron was out of sight before he began. “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. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom.” He nodded toward Frodo, who was sitting on Gandalf’s other side. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

Frodo stood up and laid the Ring down in the center of the stone pedestal. As he sat down, his eyes closed and he let out a deep breath.

The eyes of everyone else, however, had become fixed upon the band of gold just lying there, gleaming in the sunlight. Even Harry felt it tugging at him. He could defeat Voldemort, if only he possessed the Ring…and then perhaps he would find a way to bring back his parents and Sirius…

“So it is true,” someone breathed. Harry, his thoughts interrupted, tore his gaze from the Ring and looked at the speaker. It was another Man, dressed in fine but travel-stained clothes. He was stroking his well-kept brown beard thoughtfully as his grey eyes remained fixed on the Ring.

More eyes turned toward the man as he stood up. “In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark.” He started walking toward the pedestal. “But in the West, a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, ‘Your doom is near at hand! Isildur’s Bane has been found!’” The man reached for the gold band. “Isildur’s Bane…”

“Boromir!”

Gandalf had stood up and was advancing upon the retreating man, his voice thunderous as he spoke the words, “Ash Nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thratatuluk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!”

The very sky seemed to darken and the earth trembled slightly as the words were spoken. Harry closed his eyes. The words had brought a vague pounding to his head, and he did not have to understand them to know what they meant. One Ring to rule them all…No. He would not allow the Ring to rule him. He had resisted it before – he knew it – and would manage this time. He hoped.

“Never before has anyone uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris,” Elrond said, bringing his face away from his fingertips.

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may one day be heard in every corner of the West. The Ring is altogether evil!”

“It is a gift,” Boromir exclaimed as he stood up again. “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. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!”

“You cannot wield it.” All eyes turned to Strider. “None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

“And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” Boromir scoffed.

A tall, blond Elf stood up, eyes flashing in Strider’s defense. “This is no mere Ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”

“Aragorn?” Boromir paused, examining the other Man disbelievingly. “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” The Elf gave Boromir an intense look, challenging him.

“Havo dad, Legolas,” Aragorn said. The Elf glanced briefly at him before sitting down.

“Gondor has no king,” Boromir said as he returned to his own seat. “Gondor needs no king.”

“Aragorn is right; we cannot use it,” Gandalf said solemnly.

“Then you have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.” Elrond’s expression was grave.

Gimli, who was seated at Gloin’s side, jumped up and seized the axe at his feet. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, striding up to the stone plinth and bringing the axe down hard.

Instantly, a memory awoke in Harry’s mind. Not his own, that was sure…He saw an Eye wreathed in flame, a voice chanting, a pounding in his head…He raised his eyes and glanced in Frodo’s direction, and saw the Hobbit covering his eyes and rubbing his temples. The Dwarf had been thrown onto his back, and his shattered axe seemed to be smoking.

Elrond spoke. “The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, be any craft that we here possess.” Frodo was now looking at the Ring, brow furrowed in what looked like worry. “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm form whence it came.” After a pause he added, “One of you must do this.”

Silence reigned over the Council.

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” whispered Boromir. “Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. And the Great Eye is ever watchful. ‘Tis a barren wasteland riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men can you do this. It is folly,” he shook his head.

“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?” the Elf who had spoken earlier demanded. “The Ring must be destroyed!”

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” the Dwarf glared up at the Elf.

Nearly everyone at the Council stood up and began to argue not only about who would shoulder the burden of taking the Ring to Mordor, but the Elves and Dwarves argued about their races. “Never trust an Elf!” Gimli proclaimed.

Gandalf tried to halt the disagreement. “Don’t you understand? As you bicker amongst yourselves, Sauron’s power grows. None can escape it, you’ll all be destroyed!”

Harry was one of the few who had not joined in the fray. He glanced to his right and saw Lord Elrond, eyes closed in frustration, and to his left was Frodo.

The Hobbit had recovered from whatever had struck him earlier. Harry could have sworn he saw a visible change come over him as he saw there, staring at the Ring, breathing hard, with the flame of decision growing in his eyes.

Then he slid out of his seat. He drew himself to his full three and a half feet and said loudly to the arguers, “I will take it!”

The bickering did not slow. “I will take it!” he repeated.

This time the rest of the Council was silenced, its attention turned down to face the diminutive but brave soul who had volunteered. “I will take the Ring to Mordor!” His eyes met those of the Elves, Men, and Dwarves who studied him. “Though…” he added, in a softer voice, “I do not know the way.”

Gandalf gave a barely perceptible nod and moved to stand by the Hobbit. “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

Aragorn knelt before Frodo, their eyes level. “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.”

“And you have my bow,” the blond Elf said.

“And my axe,” added the Dwarf. He stood by the Elf, and Harry couldn’t help noticing the vaguely irritated expression in the Elf’s eyes.

“You have my wand.” Harry felt himself rising, felt the questioning – and even disapproving – glances of the others present. He met Frodo’s gaze levelly. “You could always use another wizard.”

“Of course,” Frodo nodded.

Boromir wove his way forward. “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.”

A sudden cry and rustling of leaves followed by pattering footsteps brought everyone’s attention to Sam, who had been unable to conceal himself any longer. “Mr. Frodo’s not going anywhere without me,” he declared, planting himself firmly at his friend’s side.

“No, indeed. It seems hardly possible to separate you, even when he is invited to a secret council and you are not,” Elrond said, his expression slightly amused.

“Oi! We’re coming too!” Merry cried. Pippin followed him from behind the columns together with Ron. “And you’ll have to send us home tied up in a sack – or throw away Ron’s wand – to stop us.”

“And Harry isn’t going to go anywhere without me,” Ron added.

“Anyway,” Pippin said to a now slightly less amused Elrond, “You need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…quest…er, thing.”

“Well, that rules you out, Pip.” It took Pippin more than a moment to understand that Merry had just insulted him.

“Eleven companions,” Elrond mused. “So be it,” he proclaimed. “You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

Pippin smiled. “Great! Where are we going?”

Frodo and Merry tried to maintain politely quizzical expressions as they glanced at their cousin.

* * *

“What were you two thinking?”

Hermione glared at Harry and Ron, but did not wait for a response. “I told you that any meddling might undo the future as we know it! How thick can you both be?” She rolled her eyes and turned to face the balcony, crossing her arms.

Ron’s ears turned red in consternation as his hands moved to smoothed his robe; Harry merely looked at the carved ceiling, studying the swirling wave pattern overhead intently. Interestingly, he spotted a small ship in the corner, which appeared to be carrying a star into the heavens at the other end of the room…

“…and to make matters worse, they’re actually allowing you to go on the quest! I suppose that since I’m a girl, they won’t take me along…but I refuse to be left behind! I’m surprised that Lord Elrond actually agreed to it, considering that you – we – are only sixteen, and Pippin’s twenty-nine, and he’s the next youngest member of the Fellowship! I know we can use magic, but what if our power’s weaker here? Gandalf doesn’t know, so it’s most likely that no one else does.”

“’Mione…”

“Don’t call me that, Ronald!” Harry looked at her and saw her face turn red.

“Hermione…You don’t know what it was like. I was – compelled – to walk up there and say I’d go with Frodo and everyone else. Something told me…”

“Oh yes, so now you have mystical voices speaking to you too?” Apparently the kiss last night had made her angrier at Ron than usual.

“I only meant…”

“And what do you have to say, Harry?” she demanded as she looked at him sharply. “From what Ronald tells me you volunteered before he did.”

“I…” What was he to say? “I couldn’t leave Frodo…”

“What is it with you and the Hobbit? You’ve decided that you can save him? Play the hero again?”

Harry decided to ignore this particular comment. “I can’t explain it. I know the dangers he’ll be going through and I think…I think I can at least help. And I’m probably the best of the three of us at defense spells.”

“What do you mean, you understand? Harry, I was reading the history of the Ring while you two were away. Mordor is worse than any place we have ever encountered.”

“We heard. Boromir described it for us.”

“Boromir?”

“From…Gondor, was it?”

“I see…” Hermione walked over to the desk, where she had a map of Middle-Earth spread out. Harry and Ron followed her. She traced her left finger over a small star that most likely represented Rivendell, across and down a long mountain chain, through a few painstakingly drawn forests, to a general area far south. “Gondor. And since he’s a messenger, he’s most likely from Minas Tirith, the City of the Guard.” Her slender index finger came to rest at the end of a shorter mountain chain, over a small but detailed drawing of a tower. She moved her right hand to indicate an area to the west of Minas Tirith that was enclosed on three sides by mountains. “That,” she said, “is Mordor. Sauron is most likely here, in his tower of Barad-dûr. And here is Mount Doom, where the Fellowship is headed.” A tiny volcano that spewed fire indicated its location. She looked up at the two of them. “Are you certain you want to travel that far on foot?”

“On foot?” Ron asked, dumbfounded. “No…no horses, nothing?”

“On foot.”

“What’s the scale on that map?”

“Here? Well, all told, I’d say that it was perhaps a thousand miles or more from here to Mount Doom.”

“That long? How do they expect us to…”

“We walk, Ron,” Harry said. “I don’t think we can back out of this one. We joined the Fellowship in front of the entire Council…”

“The Fellowship. That is what Lord Elrond and I wish to speak to you about.”

The trio whirled around to face Gandalf, whom they had not noticed. “Why…” Harry began.

“I suggest that the four of us go to Lord Elrond’s study. He is waiting for us there.”

“The four of us?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, you too, Miss Granger. Elrond requested that I bring the two young men, but I heard you as I came down the corridor and have decided that you are worthy of consideration.” He led them out, passing through delicate-looking walkways that melded with the natural growth of the trees and intricately carved arches that led into other corridors.

“So are you on our side or his?” Ron asked. “He doesn’t want us coming, does he?”

“I’m afraid you are right. However, I believe that there are other forces at work here. You were sent here from your time for a purpose; what that is, I cannot yet say, but I am certain that the Quest is something you must take part in.”

“But why? Why us? We’re only sixteen, after all…”

“Sixteen, which to the Elves is barely beyond birth and to Hobbits is still childish. But I see you and know that you three have grown far beyond your years. Lord Elrond, on the other hand, looks upon your age as an Elf would.”

After a pause, Hermione spoke up. “There is one other thing that may play a part in this, Gandalf…”

“And that is?”

“We have no knowledge of weapons. Our wands have defended us until now, but how are we to face an army of Orcs armed with only a strip of wood that, for all we know, could be useless here in Middle-Earth?”

“You refer to your encounter with the Nazgûl when you say your powers have been diminished? I do not believe they are affected by the mere fact that you are no longer in you own time. You draw your magic from a place I do not yet understand, but wherever it comes from, it has not been affected by the evil that reigns in Mordor. I confess that even I have not defeated a Nazgûl. They say that no living man can kill the Witch-king of Angmar, the leader of the Nine. I would assume the same holds true for his companions.”

Hermione considered this for a moment. “No living man…” she said softly.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “I’m just thinking.”

They passed the rest of the way in silence before Gandalf halted at the entrance to the study, motioning the three inside.

Harry paused to admire the room. The room was large, with a high ceiling and a collection of books that was a library in itself. Candles and a fire crackling merrily in the hearth threw warm light into the room that glowed softly off the darker wooden paneling on the walls and the richly made desk. The whole room was a work of art, beautiful as only the Elves could make it.

The master of Rivendell himself stood behind his desk, his gaze welcoming but also somehow grave. His face was free of lines, but the incalculable wisdom that lay behind the deep blue eyes shone through. “Good evening, young wizards. I am certain you understand why you are here…”

An odd thought crossed Harry’s mind as he looked at the Elf Lord. Funny, he looks nothing like Dobby…

“It has to do with the Quest, doesn’t it? And you don’t think we should go?”

“That, Ronald Weasley, is precisely it. You see, you are simply too young to accompany the rest of the Fellowship. I am even tempted to disallow Peregrin from going, and he is thirteen years older than you are.”

“He may be thirteen years older, but he acts about as maturely as my brothers Fred and George. They’re two years older than I am, but are jokers like you wouldn’t believe…”

“I think my own twin sons could rival your brothers. Or even my daughter Arwen – you have met her. She was probably worse than Elladan and Elrohir together when she was a young elleth.” Elrond’s mouth twitched upward and his eyes lit up briefly at the memory. “But we are straying from the topic. You and Harry are too young, and I cannot imagine what Hermione Granger means by coming here.”

“I mean that if Harry and Ron manage to convince you to send them on the Quest, I won’t be left behind,” Hermione said, her eyes flashing. “Where – when – we come from, women are treated almost as equals to the men. And I have to say that I felt most insulted by not being allowed at the Council.”

“Only Harry was allowed to stay…” Elrond began.

“But that’s not the point! I don’t believe that women should be considered any weaker for the mere fact that they are what they are! And I wish to go on the Quest. You say that none of us have knowledge of weapons; well, we can learn. It will be a few months, anyway, before the Fellowship departs. I learn quickly – Harry and Ron can attest to that.”
“The Elves and I do not object to your involvement. But Men, Dwarves, and even Hobbits are not accustomed to equality between males and females, and this Fellowship represents them as well. And what if you run afoul of an army of orcs, Corsairs, or even a band of slavers along the road? The companions of the Fellowship are honorable and strong of heart, but eleven alone cannot stand against an army of thousands.”

“Then I will learn to defend myself, together with Harry and Ron. I do have a few tricks up my sleeve – and I’ve learned to master most of my fears.” Hermione’s voice sounded even older than it normally did as she met Elrond’s gaze levelly.

The Lord of Imladris regarded her carefully. “You have a stout heart indeed. But the wild is no place for a lady – and you are barely out of childhood, even by the reckoning of humans.

“Likewise,” he added, looking at Harry and Ron again, “you two are young Men with scarcely any sign of a beard. You all are young and innocent; you have not encountered the dangers of the wild.”

“How many Elves have, by our age, stared death in the face?” Harry asked. “How many fourteen year-olds in Middle earth have fought for their life against someone who had been after them since their birth?” Elrond remained silent. “I have. I’ve fought Lord Voldemort and escaped five times with my life. I’ve seen people cut down just because Voldemort wanted to hurt me. I’ve watched people die, seen people tortured, been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse myself. And Ron and Hermione have been with me through it all,” he added.

“You see, Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said, emerging from where he had sat silent in the shadows, “they are less innocent than even some Elves ten times their age are. Just by being alive and well they have shown they are not fainthearted.”

“Have they seen loved ones killed and friends tortured?” Elrond said rhetorically. “I do not question your opinion, Gandalf, but – ”

“We’re not lying!” Ron interrupted.

“I was not going to suggest that you were. So you have seen death and torture. But from what Harry is telling me, I understand that the wizards of your time use magic to kill and to torture?” They nodded. “There is something you have not seen, then. You have neither watched someone die a slow and painful death nor seen someone scream while being ripped apart. You have not used a weapon to kill, and that is something you must learn to do if you want to go. The Quest is not a game. You see why I cannot allow you to go? You are too young to foresee the consequences of any actions you might take!”

“And the others can?” Ron challenged.

“Ron!” Hermione tutted.

Gandalf stepped into the conversation. “You are right, Lord Elrond. But Ron also speaks the truth. What of Boromir? Gimli? The Hobbits? We saw how rashly and impulsively they acted at the Council. Why, Boromir reached for the Ring and tried to take it! He could not see that it would bring destruction and not salvation to Gondor, and yet you do not question his presence in the Company.”

“Boromir is a Man. Weak in spirit and easily bent to the Ring’s will because of his desire to save Gondor, yes, but a Man skilled with weapons and sharp of mind.”

“Hermione’s very clever,” Ron said. “And most of the stuff we’ve been through is not exactly to be considered a walk in the park.”

The Istari and Elf looked at him quizzically at the phrase, but ignored it. Gandalf said, “And what of Gimli? You saw how eagerly he rushed up to the Ring, not thinking of what would happen as soon as he lowered his axe.”

“He did not know…”

But Gandalf shook his head. “None of them do. Neither Elf, nor Man, nor Hobbit can comprehend the perils that lie before him on this quest. And neither age nor experience can change that. Even Legolas has only battled the spiders in Mirkwood, and Thranduil told me once that it was out of sheer boredom. And you say that these young people are too innocent?”

“Legolas is an Elf. His skill with the bow has remained unsurpassed since he first mastered it.”

“Certainly. But his heart would be just as vulnerable as Boromir’s if the Ring were to uncover what he most wanted.”

“And that is another reason I cannot allow these children on the Quest; it is far too dangerous!” It was as if the three Hogwarts wizards were no longer present. “They are of the race of Men, and their hearts would be easily corruptible.”

“Yet it is said that children – as you insist on calling them – are the most pure, the least susceptible to corruption. Elrond – none of us sees the danger that truly lies ahead, and that is why these three have chosen to go. If we knew, we would be doomed to failure from the start.”

“Very well…I can hardly call them children, for they have indeed seen things my sons and Arwen did not see until they were past one hundred years old.”

“And you are wrong – at least for one of them. Harry has killed a creature before – and not only that, he mentioned facing a dragon only a year ago.”

Elrond looked, eyebrows raised, at Harry, who said, “It was self-defense. Voldemort sent a twenty-foot long snake after me, but a sword appeared and I used it to defend myself by killing the snake.”

“And the dragon?” Elrond questioned curiously.

“It was part of a Triwizard Tournament task. I had to take a golden egg from the nest it was guarding.”

Elrond regarded Harry with an expression of amazement, then he sighed. “Very well. Harry, perhaps, has shown that he is capable of the Quest. But as for Ron and Hermione…”

“I’m not going anywhere without them,” Harry stated. When Elrond began to speak, most likely to tell him to stay, he added, “And I made a promise in front of the Council, and so did Ron. A promise like that can’t be broken that easily.”

“Honor is central to anyone’s life here, but I have your safety in mind.”

“And we three want to help save Middle-earth!” Hermione said fiercely. “Perhaps these two haven’t considered it, but I know that I am ready for the long journey. I know what it’s like to hike over long distances and sleep on the ground.” When she saw Harry’s and Ron’s puzzled looks, she added, “My parents and I took a long hiking trip last summer in Switzerland.”

Elrond seemed to be relenting. “You three realize that this is not merely a – hike – down through Middle-earth? The way will be long and perilous. You will be pursued by the Enemy, and may have to fight for your lives in battles with Orcs – or worse. Are you prepared to take on the burden if defending the Ringbearer to the death?”

To the death. The finality about that phrase was ominous, but it was binding. “I promised Frodo my wand, and he will have it. I know some good defense spells – so do Ron and Hermione – that’ll keep anyone’s hands off me long enough for me to catch up to the Fellowship if I have to use them. I am ready.”

“Me too,” Ron added.

“I will go – with your permission, Lord Elrond. I swear not to distract any of the others in the Fellowship from the true goal,” Hermione said.

“Not that it’s in your personality to,” Ron muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Elrond regarded them all thoughtfully. “Very well. I will send for the smiths so that they may create new swords for you; Aragorn shall teach you. If one of you should show any promise with the bow, I shall be sure to find one as well as some well-fletched arrows. You three shall join the Company on the Quest to Mount Doom. Use whatever is in your power to defend Frodo from all harm.”

“We will,” they said together, nodding.

Have I made the right choice? Harry wondered. If any of us die, I would never forgive myself. But the promise is to defend Frodo to the death.

Their decision had been made, and it was irrevocable. They would face the Quest as brave Gryffindor students should.



Translation: Ash Nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thratatuluk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul! - One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them; One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. (Black Speech of Mordor)