Chapter 357: Old Matters Revisited
"Legolas."
Aragorn raised a hand in greeting to the guest who had just arrived in Rivendell.
After so long, seeing Legolas again stirred many feelings in him.
This fellow had told him, when they first met, that he was only an ordinary Elf.
As it turned out, he was the Elven prince of the Woodland Realm.
Across from Aragorn, Legolas had much the same thought.
This fellow had told him, when they first met, that he was only an ordinary ranger.
As it turned out, he was Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the only living soul in Middle-earth who bore the blood of both Gondor and Arnor's royal lines.
"You kept that from me for quite a while," Legolas said.
"As did you," Aragorn replied.
They shared a knowing smile and let the matter drop.
Years ago, after returning from travels in the East, they had met again in Rhovanion and spent much time together. They had grown close.
They stood there exchanging news, wearing the easy grins of old friends reunited.
Nearby, Boromir stood with his brow furrowed. He watched Aragorn, this man who looked about his own age, and felt something tugging at the edge of his mind.
He could not name it. Could not explain it.
If he had to, he would call it "fate". There was a thread of fate around that man, bound somehow to his own.
Here, old friends were gathering. Powers from every quarter were converging, each with their own thoughts.
Elsewhere, on a quiet terrace overlooking the falls, a smaller council was already underway before the greater one began.
"To have carried the One Ring so far, and show so little sign of its touch, speaks well of Frodo's strength against the Ring's malice," Elrond said.
He watched Frodo, who was chatting peacefully with Bilbo, his thoughts unreadable.
Gandalf spoke from beside him.
"Yes, it does. But that burden should never have been his to carry. He is a Hobbit. One who dislikes adventure and wishes only to live quietly at home. A peaceful life would suit him far better."
"Yet sometimes we have no choice," Elrond said, shaking his head slowly.
"The Enemy we have kept at bay so long is moving again. His armies are vast beyond counting, outnumbering the hosts of Elves and Men combined. His power is rising. Though he has not yet taken form, his will is as strong as it was of old."
Of old: meaning the War of the Last Alliance.
"Saruman said much the same. Levi told me that Saruman nearly fell to Sauron's whispers once, and now the Nazgûl have taken him. He is held prisoner in Dol Guldur. I cannot guess what they mean to do with him," Gandalf said.
"Whatever their purpose, to have one of the Istari taken off the board is a loss we can ill afford. We must find a way to get him back," Elrond said.
"Do you have a way?" Gandalf asked.
Elrond fell silent again.
At length he said, "Legolas of the Woodland Realm brought word of Dol Guldur. By his telling, evil shadows lie thick there. A great darkness breeds within. It strikes fear into the heart."
"I suspect a host is hidden there, but it is held back by fear of the Free Cities' strong defences all around."
"Even if they fear those powers, breaking in will be no easy thing," Gandalf said.
"Hard or no, it must be done," Gandalf said firmly.
"Of course. We will do it. I have already chosen those who will go. Glorfindel will join us. With you, and Levi, and the rest, forcing our way into Dol Guldur is within reach," Elrond said.
"That eases my mind a little," Gandalf said.
Once they had settled Saruman's case, they turned to the other matter: the more pressing one. The Ring.
"Whether it stays in Roadside Keep or here in Rivendell, the Ring cannot remain as it is forever. You know that as long as it exists, Sauron has a road back to power," Elrond said.
"This is a burden all the Free Peoples must share. No one can stand apart from it."
"The age of the Elves is ending," he went on.
"Even with the beacon that preserves our strength, more and more of our kindred are departing across the Sea, seeking the Blessed Realm and the company of their kin."
"When the last of us have gone, the strength of the free world will be that much less."
"And then you will have to look to—"
Tap.
Footsteps sounded. A latecomer crossed the bridge towards them, clearly intent on joining the council.
"Thank the Valar for that new power, at least," Elrond said, letting out a breath.
"Men have grown weak. From the Second Age to now, they have been in decline. The blood of Númenor runs thin in their veins. Their strength and lifespan are both half what their ancestors knew. The glory and pride of Númenor are gone."
"But then the Free Cities rose from nowhere, and in them I see something of the greatness Men once had," he said.
"Though it also worries me."
While Levi was still walking towards them, Elrond spoke quickly.
"Númenor at its height was mightier than the Free Cities are now. Even the Enemy surrendered without a fight and grovelled at their feet. Yet in the end they were corrupted and fell, and their ruin came in a single stroke."
"Later, in the Last Alliance, their heirs were tempted by the One Ring, and it escaped destruction. That is why we stand here now."
"I saw it with my own eyes, Gandalf. I stood at his side."
He had been there.
"When Isildur took the Ring, I witnessed the frailty of Men."
In truth, he had felt the urge to shove Isildur off the edge then and there. But Isildur's line had sprung from his own blood-kin.
For an Elf to slay kindred was an unforgivable sin. He could not do it. Would not.
And even if he had shouldered that sin and struck Isildur down, it would have sparked open war between Elves and Men, a war to the knife.
Because Isildur was the only living heir of the royal line of Men, the sole bearer of the blood of the High Kings.
And if Elrond had borne even that, and killed him anyway, the Ring would not have been destroyed. It would simply have leapt to Elrond himself in that moment of chaos and rage and kinslaying, choosing him as its next bearer.
To make such a choice would have meant Elrond was already lost.
No matter how he looked at it, Elrond had been unable to act. He could only stand there, helpless and bitter, calling out behind Isildur, trying to wake him to sense.
In that moment, Isildur alone had held the Ring's fate in his hands. No one else could touch it.
And he had failed.
"Still, we now have the Free Cities standing with us. The Men there are weaker than the Númenóreans were, and their lives are short, but there is something in their spirit that gives me hope," Elrond said.
"As for Levi, we have known one another for some eighty years now. There are still mysteries about him I do not understand, but I know his heart well enough."
"The northern peoples prosper because of him. And they will go on prospering."
"As for the other one…"
"The other leader who could unite the kindreds of Men is right here in Rivendell. You have watched him yourself," Levi said.
Elrond and Gandalf both turned.
"Aragorn has been living a little aimlessly of late, it is true. Or rather, he has never really tried to do much. But I have watched him all the same. There is a hidden fire of will in his eyes," Levi said.
He sat down in a chair nearby and let out a breath.
Thanks to the Star Ring, his senses were sharper than most. Even at a distance, every word Gandalf and Elrond had spoken had reached his ears.
These two had a lot on their minds.