One Last Time - A LoTR Fanfic /oc

Forced Fellowship

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the rings, JRR Tolkien is the master behind it all. I only own the oc and plot.

Servants had made Wind a bath, and a few hours later had come to tell her that the meeting would be held in an hour. She assumed that Frodo was awake, so she finally got up from the feather-soft bed and began to change.

People from all around were coming to a council concerning the fate of Middle Earth so she decided it best to wear something that at least looked better than the two pairs of traveling clothes she had worn.

Luckily, the servants had left her a small selection of robes by the door, probably courtesy of the Lord Elrond, so she picked one and pulled it on. It was a light blue and looked weird on her, but she left the room with it on anyway.

There was a ring of seats around a small pillar and Elrond's seat. She could see elves, dwarves and men slowly beginning to sit down, as well as a wizard and a hobbit on the far side.

Wind took a seat with an empty space next to her, but it was quickly filled with a dwarf.

Once everyone was sat down and quiet, Elrond 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. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." He looks at each of them, but then his gaze settles on Frodo. He gestures to the hobbit. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Frodo slowly walks up to the stone plinth, placing the golden ring down gently before returning to his seat beside Gandalf.

A man with shoulder length hair and a small beard starts to talk. "So it's true," he says as people eye the ring suspiciously. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark," the man stands and walks closer to the ring, "in the west a pale light lingered, a voice was crying, your doom is near at hand. Isildur's bane is found." Wind noticed that Elrond looked with a concern expression towards Gandalf. The man holds his hand out slowly, reaching for the ring.

Elrond leapt to his feet and shouted, causing Wind to jump in her seat. "Boromir!"

It was at that point, the sky above them grew dark, and Gandal began speaking in a tongue Wind could not understand. One of the dwarves cried out and Gandalf stood up from his seat.

Wind could feel a slight pull, her dark eyes unable to leave the rings hold. She could feel a headache brewing inside, and possibly whispers, but it was interrupted as the sky cleared up and the sun's rays begin to shine down again.

She had never seen Elrond so mortified before.
"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West. The ring is altogether evil." He turned to look at the council as a whole before taking a seat.

Boromir, as Wind had found out his name was, stood up whilst shaking his head. "Aye it is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him." He reasoned.

Aragorn decided to speak up at this point. "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."