Homeward Bound Part One: An Unexpected Journey

Chapter Twenty

Eventually Bilba forced herself to get up and leave the room. The sun was just beginning to drift toward the horizon making it late afternoon, early evening.

She wandered for a while, trailing along small paths and streams. The place was beautiful and very peaceful she had to admit. At the same time, however, she had a feeling she'd end up quite bored eventually. What had her mother seen in the place to keep her returning? Bilba always pictured Rivendell as some action packed place but, in reality, it was not that unlike the Shire.

So what had her mother found other than a place her children were not?

Rounding a corner she saw steps leading down and followed them into a small underground room. A massive painting dominated the near wall depicting the scene every person in Middle Earth knew well, the moment Isildur cut the ring from the hand of Sauron.

Bilba felt a thrill run through her at the sight and carefully reached a hand up to gently touch the painting. How old was it? It was in Rivendell after all, as far as she knew it could date all the way back to the First Age. Something deep inside her stirred and she considered the possibility that her love of history and adventure wasn't quite so dead as she once thought.

She put her hand down and turned to explore the rest of the room. Almost directly behind her stood a statue of a woman gazing down on the remnants of a sword. In spite of herself, Bilba felt her eyes widen. The sword was identical to the one in the painting behind her which meant it could only be --

She stepped closer, almost shaking in anticipation of being so close to history.

The shards of Narsil. The very SWORD that cut the ring from Sauron's hand. Why had her mother never told her it was in Rivendell?

Reverently she crept up the small stairs in front of the statue and gazed down on the glittering pieces.

"You can pick it up if you want."

Bilba jerked and twisted to see a tall figure lounging in a chair near the back of the room, nearly hidden by shadow.

He stood and stepped forward, one hand raised in apology while the other set a book down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's all right," Bilba said, one hand over her heart as her pulse slowly went back to normal. "I should have been paying closer attention."

He moved forward and she could see he was young, and very tall, with dark hair to his shoulders. He also had rounded ears.

"You're a Man!" She blurted, and then flushed immediately.

He laughed. "Indeed." He gave a dramatic bow. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn at your service my Lady."

Bilba giggled and dipped into a curtsey matching the theatrics of his bow. "Bilba Baggins of the Shire, at yours."

He jumped up beside her in one easy leap, bypassing the stairs entirely. Reaching out he gently lifted the hilt of the sword then turned and offered it to her. "Be careful, it's still sharp."

Bilba nodded, her eyes wide as she stared at the blade. She started to take it and then jerked her hands back at the thought of touching so important a blade.

He laughed. "It's fine, go ahead."

Bilba nodded. She chewed on her lower lip a second, let out a breath and gently took the blade. A grin started of its own accord as she hefted the hilt, eyes traveling up to the remnants of the blade.

"Poor Isildur," she whispered without thinking, "he should have been remembered as a hero alone."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?" His eyes darkened and, when he spoke again, his words were hard. "He failed in the end. He kept the ring for himself when it should have been destroyed."