Ithildin - Legolas x OC

Chapter 2: Kindle of hope

~*~

The bright moon shines over the city of Rivendell, illuminating the path as I walk along. I smile as I approach two of the young Hobbits sitting at a table outside, eating.

"Good evening." I greet them, earning smiles in return.

"My lady! We were just having supper; would you care to join us?"

"Thank you." I smile, "I have already eaten but I will enjoy your company for a while, and please, call me Amariel."

"Amariel." The other Hobbit muses over my name, "That's a beautiful name. I'm Peregrin Took, but you can call me Pippin, and this is Meriadoc Brandybuck."

"Merry." Meriadoc corrects, placing a grape into his mouth, and I smile again.

"A pleasure to meet you both, but where is the third?"

"Oh, Sam? He's with Frodo, hasn't left his side since we arrived." Pippin says.

"He is a loyal friend." I state, "You all are for accompanying Frodo this far into Middle-Earth, not many Hobbits would dare venture outside the Shire."

"Well, we're very brave Hobbits, you see."

"Indeed, you are." I laugh and stay with them for most of the evening, talking and laughing and hearing their stories of their time in the Shire.

*

A few days pass until Frodo Baggins finally awakes, and it brings relief over us all in the court to know he has truly recovered.

A smile graces my lips as I pass an overlooking balcony to the garden below, seeing Frodo and Sam conversing. I carry on walking past and pause outside my father's office, hearing him speak to someone inside.

"Gandalf, the enemy is moving." He says sternly, and I quietly manoeuvre behind a pilar so that I'm not seen, listening to his conversation with the wizard. "Sauron's forces are massing in the East. His eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Saruman you tell me has betrayed us...our list of allies grows thin."

My head turns to the side as I frown at this information.

"His treachery runs deeper than you know." Gandalf says. "By foul craft Saruman has crossed Orcs with Goblin-men—he's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. An army that can move in sunlight and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring."

"This evil cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard!"

I hear Gandalf's footsteps against the stone floor as he moves across the room, thinking, most likely.

"Gandalf, the Ring cannot stay here." There's a beat of silence before father continues. "This peril belongs to all Middle-Earth. They must decide now how to end it. The time of the Elves is over, my people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The Dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others."

"It is in Men that we must place our hope." Gandalf tells him.

"Men?" Father practically scoffs as he walks around. "Men are weak. The race of Men is failing. The blood of Numenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives. I was there Gandalf, I was there three-thousand years ago...." There is a pause, and I know father is recalling a painful memory. "When Isildur took the Ring...I was there the day the strength of Men failed. I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom, where the Ring was forged—the one place it could be destroyed. It should have ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure."