The Fellowship With a Twist – Chapter Two. The Council of Elrond and The Fellowship of the Ring

by Dec 21, 2002Stories

Arador walked beneath the proud oak trees of Rivendell. “Imladris,” he said quietly to Henaglor. “The land of my youth.” He patted her slender black neck and said,”Go, be free like all horses of your race should be.” She sprang away like lightning. Arador continued alone. He was looking for Elohir and Elladan, the sons of Elrond. It had been forty years since he’d seen them. The sons of Elrond and Arathorn had finished a great service to the people of Dale. It was when he’d first met Lendia. Orcs and Wargs had plundered the city of Dale and Elladan,Aragorn,Elohir, and Arador had fought vigorously and returned every stolen item to the King of Dale. It was then that Master Elrond, Son of Earendil the Mariner and Elwing the Fair had revealed to the sons of Arathorn thier true names and lineage.

He was walking into the forest and behold! He saw a familliar face. It was Aragorn singing a part in the Lay of Luthien in the High Eldarian tounge. Arador had many, many strenghts but unfortuneatly, singing wasn’t among them. Aragorn noticed his younger (by two years) brother. He smiled and said,”How is Arador, Chieften of the Dunedain and Future King of Dale?” It was a game they played whenever the met each other. “He is fine if the Hier of Isildur and the King of Gondor and Arnor is,” responded Arador. “We’re both Hiers of Isildur.” Aragorn reasoned. “I know but you look like Isildur more than I.” Aragorn grinned,”That’s because you resemble Elendil.” They were interupted by one clear note of a trumpet. “The Council! It’s the summon for the Council!” Aragorn cried.

Arador sat in the midst of many different people. All save one knew him. Galdor of the Grey Havens. He sat between Gandalf Greyhame and Legolas Greeenlaef. To these people he was Teldren, Ranger of the North.

“Strangers from distant land, 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.” these were the opening words of Elrond the Half-Elven. Then Elrond told all that was known about Sauron and the Rings of Power.

“I remember the battle of the Last Alliance. The splendour of thier banners as the marched against the armies of Mordor. Never had such a host of princes and captains assembled since the host of the Valar broke down Thangordrim and overthrew Morgoth.,” he sighed.

“You remember?” stammered Frodo. “But I thought the fall of Gil-Galad was an age ago.”

“So it was indeed,” answered Elrond gravely. “But my memory reaches back even to the Elder Days. Earendil was my sire who was born in the Hidden City of Gondolin before it’s fall. My mother was Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Beren and Luthien. I have seen three ages in the world and many battles and many friutless victouries.” he paused again. “What became of the Ring?” cried a tall, grey-eyed man. Arador recognized him as Boromir, son of Denethor Captain of the White Tower.

“It should have been destroyed but Isildur refused the pleas of Cirdan and I and did not destroy the Ring.” Elrond said gravely. “But what became of it? Where is it now?” Boromir asked. Elrond looked directly at Frodo. “It is here.”

At this, Boromir rose. “Then give it to me at once!” cried Boromir. “Why? So yu can set it on your finger and go to Minas Tirith? The ring of the Enemy cannot be used against him. If you try then you should become a tyrant of the Darkness and enslave the world as Sauron tried to. The Ring hurts, it does not help. It was forged for evil and in it lies Saurons malice, protency, and will to dominate all life.” these were the words of Arador. Boromir turned his cold, grey glare upon him. “Teldren. Ranger. Do not meddle in matters that don’t concern you.”

Arador rose. “You mistake my rank, Boromir, son of Denethor. I am not just a Ranger. I am not Teldren. My father did not give me that name. He named me after his sire. The name is Arador, son of Aragorn. I am the Heir of Elendil and the Chieften of the Dunedain! I will not be spoken to in that manner by the likes of you, Boromir.” Aragorn proved right, for in that hour, any man of Númenor would have thoght that standing thier in great majesty and reverence was indeed Elendil, son of Amandil who stood carven alongside his eldest son in the halls of Gondor.

“Sit you two. Boromir, you must have had a reason for coming. Sit and tell us here for your questions shall be answered.” said Elrond. Boromir sat proudly, never taking his off Arador.

“I came because of a riddle. It came once to me in a dream and twice to my brother. Seek for the Sword that was broken. In Imladris it dwells. There shall counsels be taken. Stronger than Morgul spells. There shall be shown a Token. That Doom is near at hand. Isildur’s Bane shall weaken. The Halfling forth shall stand.”

Then Aragorn stood and took his sword out and it was in two pieces. “Here is the Sword that was Broken!” He cast it out unto the table that stood in the center of the Council. Then Boromir sat thinking to himself. And the Council debated many things.

“The Ring will go to Mordor and be destroyed by the hands of Frodo son of Drogo Baggins of the Shire.” said Elrond. “With him will go Samwise Gamgee, his gardener and close friend. His kin, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck shall also journey Eastward. They will represent the Halflings. For the Men will journey the sons of Arathorn and the son of Denethor. The representant of the Elves is Legolas Greenleaf, son of Tranduil and Prince of Mirkwood. For the Dwarves, the son of Gloin will go. Also, Gandalf Greyhame will go with them. You will go in a day. Take some sleep and rest and make ready for tomorrow. You are the Fellowship of the Ring.” Elrond had finally made his decision.

Arador walked for a last time beneath the oaks. He found the sons of Elrond. “Arador! Come over here, we’ve been looking for you.”

Elohir called. “Elladan, show it to him.”

Elladan pulled a great long sword from behnd a tree. “Glorand, Fire-Star,” he said wonderously. “A blade from Gondolin, of more authority than Orcist and Glamdring and Sting. It was the sword of Earendil and with it he slew Ancalagon the Black, chief of the dragons that flew against the host of Thorondor in the during the baattle of the Valar against Morgoth. Take it and kill loads of orcs with it,” Elladan said. “Like old times, remember, Elohir?”

The two grinned at him and Elladan tossed him the sword. “It glows red when enimies are around,” Elohir said.

“Thanks a lot, you guys, I’ll use it in your honor.” Arador said.

“You’d better.” Elladan said. “Well, see you.”


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