The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 18: The Council of Elrond

Glorfindel merely smiled when he saw Varilerin, grateful that she fulfilled her promise, though he was slightly disappointed with her appearance. Roughly said, she did not change anything from her appearance back in the afternoon. Glorfindel even suspected that she even changed her silver tunic.

“Surely you can do better for your first feast in Rivendell,” Glorfindel remarked as Varilerin arrived in front of him. Varilerin frowned, directing her eyes to her tunic, which Glorfindel had just realized was more extravagant than he had expected. Judging from the vine pattern that embedded the silk and the way Varilerin’s hair was meticulously braided, Glorfindel knew that Varilerin was not the one who chose the outfit. “Let me guess… Lady Arwen helped you prepare yourself?”

“I have told her it is unnecessary,” Varilerin informed him, scowling. “But Arwen is too persistent. I hope that she is here so that I can punish her.”

“However, she has done well. You look magnificent,” Glorfindel said. Varilerin looked unimpressed. With a last grin Glorfindel and the frowning Varilerin began to walk towards the dining hall. Varilerin was careful to let Glorfindel walk in front of her, for she didn’t want to gain too much attention from the guests. Her efforts bore fruit, for when they arrived in the dining hall, none of the estranged guests seemed to observe her or even notice her. Glorfindel, apparently, was kind enough to help her by diverting the guests’ gazes and offering Varilerin a chance to take a seat beside Gandalf.

“I didn’t know you dress, My Dear,” Gandalf chuckled. “But I should say that you look fitting in your outfit. An Elf should not look like a deserter.”

“Funny,” Varilerin said, noticing Glorfindel taking a seat beside hers. He was grinning suspiciously, causing Varilerin to shudder out of anxiety. She couldn’t ask him the reason, for Elrond interrupted her by starting the feast. The peredhil opened the dinner by raising his cup of wine high, and the others followed properly. Everyone drank along with Elrond, while Varilerin followed slightly later. She winced when she tasted the drink, for she had never drunken alcoholic drinks before. Alcohol was forbidden for rangers as it caused them to lose their sight and cautiousness.

After a painstaking effort finishing her wine, she put down the cup and glanced around. The feast had begun, which in turn ignited conversations among the guests. The hall became noisier as the night got older, the Dwarfs and Bilbo particularly the noisiest of all of them. Varilerin remained quiet as she ate her meal, constantly noticing people stealing glances from her. Arwen was sitting across her, sending her a smile and a look that urged her to converse with others. Varilerin avoided her gaze and pretended to drink from her empty cup.

“Why are you not talking with the others?” Gandalf asked after a while. He studied her sombre expression, slightly changed from the cold one she had but still hard and rigid. She shook her head, merely watching Arwen laughing from afar with sad eyes. Her face darkened again, returning to the same state before she returned to Rivendell. “You have not forgiven yourself fully, haven’t you?”

Varilerin was not surprised by his question, though she still diverted her eyes from his. “Some things are meant to stay forever,” Varilerin answered, closing her eyes. “And to me, guilt is one of them. It cannot leave my heart and soul, and I am afraid it will linger for the rest of my life.”

“Dwelling in the past is not a good thing, Varilerin,” Gandalf advised her. “The shadow of guilt can only slow you from the future. You may not be able to see it, but I see a brighter future awaiting you, My Friend.”

“Yet I have not seen a promising future in my life,” Varilerin said with a mocking smile. “With my gift I can only see terrible things…” Varilerin stopped and looked at Gandalf. “I suppose after knowing my past, you must have thought that I should have faded long ago?”

Gandalf was taken aback by her question. It was true that Elves were considered immortal, but they could in fact fade to sadness and grief. Arwen’s mother, Lady Celebrian, had almost faded completely after the torture she experienced hundreds of years ago. But Celebrian had sailed to the Undying Lands and therefore had survived from the evil that threatened her heart. However, despite the tremendous guilt and shadow that dominated her heart and soul, Varilerin did not fade like most of her kin. It might account to the fact that she was not pure Elf, though Gandalf knew a better reason. “Because you have vowed to protect Lady Arwen at all cost,” Gandalf answered slowly, eyeing the said elleth from afar. Varilerin nodded, returning her eyes to the table. “But My Dear, what if Lady Arwen has found peace? She has chosen Men over Elves, you know this, so what would happen if she was to die?”

“I don’t know,” Varilerin silently answered. “I have not thought about it. I would probably fade into darkness; and I cannot join the Elves to the Undying Lands, for many reasons.”

“Oh, Varilerin, fading is not the best path to take,” Gandalf said sadly. “Do you think Lady Arwen would be pleased for you to die? You deserve better, My Dear.”

“I wonder,” Varilerin whispered. “As long as Arwen finds happiness, I am contented.”

“I am sure you will find your own happiness, Varilerin,” Gandalf assured her, desperately. “And it is not fading, I assure you. You deserve better after all your hard work.” Varilerin forced her faintest smile, before she stood from her seat. “Leaving so soon? Is it because of our conversation?”

“Not really,” Varilerin answered. “It is just that I am not really used to this… noisy situation; and I am tired. I should get some rest.”

“To think that the renowned Daefaroth can even suffer from exhaustion,” Gandalf said rather too loudly, causing a pair of unwanted eyes to be drawn towards them. The wizard chuckled when he saw Legolas throwing them a glance, while Varilerin glared at Gandalf, unimpressed. “But it is fitting, for you have travelled far. Though, it is disappointing for you not to join us in the Hall of Fire. The others would surely tell interesting stories.”

“I have heard and seen enough from my journeys. Furthermore, I would only be a nuisance in the Hall of Fire,” Varilerin answered surely. She pushed her seat before she bowed to Gandalf and Elrond, who had been eyeing their conversation from the side. “Goodnight, Gandalf. I wish you enjoy your stories.”

“Goodnight as well, dear friend,” Gandalf said as he watched her disappear into the darkness, like a shadow in the night.

000

Varilerin had no nightmares or dreams that night, much to her delight and surprise, but she woke before the sun even rose from the horizon. She had taken her rest on the branch of a tree at the back of her room. It was the best rest she had so far, though it did not erase her exhaustion completely. Unlike pureblood Elves, she was required to rest in the form of sleep, though less than Men in general. She fluttered her eyes, before she lightly leapt off the tree. As far as she observed, none had awoken from their sleep. Gandalf and the Hobbits would probably still be sleeping, as were Arwen and Glorfindel. It was too early for them rise, for the sky was still dark and quiet.

Varilerin wandered in the corridors of Rivendell, which had not changed in its beauty and glory ever since she left them. She did not remember most of them clearly, except for one. The hall where Narsil laid remained the same like the others, but Varilerin found the hall still more interesting than the others. The difference it held was a statue standing on the garden in its centre, of a beautiful woman carved in stone. Varilerin studied the statue, feeling a strange significance in it. Something about it pulled her interest dearly.

“Who’s there?” a voice came from behind her. Varilerin was immediately alarmed and turned towards the figure lurking behind her, cautious and ready for whatever dangers the person posed. Varilerin first thought he was her mentor, until she saw his face clearly. It was fair, like Glorfindel’s, but more stern and serious.

“Le-“ Varilerin paused and drew a calm breath. “Lord Legolas, “she corrected, “it is strange to find a person other than me awake at this time.” Legolas seemed surprised when he heard her calm answer, and the cautious stare from her eyes. He remembered those silver marbles clearly.

“Forgive me for interrupting you,” Legolas answered as politely as he could, now remembering what the harsh scolding she had uttered to his father in the most improper manner. “But back in Mirkwood, no, Greenwood I am also a ranger. It is not strange for me to be awake in this hour.”

“I see,” Varilerin muttered. Varilerin could not find any more words to say and returned her attention to the statue. She looked transfixed like the monument, Why out of all times should I encounter this man? I would rather be pointed an arrow-

“She is Gilraen,” Legolas said suddenly. “She was Aragorn’s mother. I have seen her before. She is a kind and strong woman.”

“I see,” Varilerin plainly said, halting their conversation once more. Legolas’ information brought a strange thought to her mind and Varilerin rubbed her necklace. I wonder if mother is also a kind and strong woman. I wonder if her sacrifice for me was worth her life. She deserved better. “I assume that you are in the Council as well?” Varilerin asked without facing him, though she knew too well that the prince would be there surely.

“Yes,” Legolas shortly answered before he paused. “I have a question for you….Are you really the Daefaroth that I encountered in the mountains?” he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. The unmoved elleth slowly turned to look at him, only to surprise him with a menacing grin carved on her fair face.

“What do you think, Son of Thranduil?” Varilerin said in the tongue of Men, adding a sharp tone in her reply. “I will see you in the Council, Lord Legolas.” Varilerin was utterly satisfied by his confused face, walking past him like a shadow which had never been there. It took Legolas several seconds to realize she was no longer there. He stood frozen to the ground, trying to comprehend what he had just experienced, while the elleth who had been conversing with him wandered silently in the corridors once more.

The sun finally greeted Rivendell, and the time for the Council finally arrived. Once a communal breakfast had been held, all the council members went to the hall where they had been told to gather. Elrond had been waiting for them, sitting in the seat of honour, accompanied by Glorfindel and Gandalf by his sides. Varilerin took a seat beside her trusted friend, across Aragorn in the corners, and next to Frodo and his uncle Bilbo. She was one of the first to arrive, seeking refuge beside Gandalf as she studied the arriving councillors. There were Dwarfs, Elves, Men, and Hobbits in a single circle. One of them caught her attention, for she did not see him in the feast the night before.

“He is Boromir of Gondor, son of its steward Denethor,” Gandalf told her. Varilerin nodded as she continued to eye the man. “He arrived here in the middle of the night, exhausted and burdened with a prophecy that dominated his and his brother’s dreams lately.”

“I know his brother Faramir from my last visit to Gondor decades ago, but I have not seen him before,” Varilerin told the wizard, frowning. “Something about the man bothers me. He is honourable like Aragorn, but a great shadow lies in his eyes. His presence is disturbing my conscious mind.”

“Your judgement might be true or wrong,” Gandalf said, himself studying the warrior. “But your feelings are rarely wrong.”

Varilerin nodded, finally watching Boromir taking a seat along with the others. She twitched her feet nervously, anxious of the people gathering around her. Almost all of the strangers looked at her curiously and suspiciously, for she stood out from the others as a female. It was rare to see a female joining an important council. Arwen, perhaps, would be fitting, but for a stranger like her it was strange and uncomfortable. Varilerin could see fear and suspicions in their eyes when she stared back at them.

Elrond rose from his seat when he saw that all the members had taken their seats. His eyes were serious and depressed, knowing that what they would discuss that morning would likely determine the fate of Middle Earth. All attentions were drawn to his figure, standing tall and graceful in the circle.

“Strangers from distant lands, friends of old,” Elrond started, his voice deep like the mountains. “You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom,” Elrond continued, his eyes now scanning the council gravely. After a momentary pause that tensed all the members, he turned to Frodo. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

Upon the peredhil’s order, the Hobbit rose to his feet. He swallowed a handful of anxiety as he fumbled his pocket. Slowly he took the One Ring out and put it on the stone plinth in the middle of the circle. Instantly the council eyed the object intently, all except Varilerin. She diverted her eyes away, struggling not to wince as she sensed the darkness emanating from the Ring. It was too close, so close such that she could hear whispers coming from it. Gandalf and Elrond noticed this, but they could not do a single thing for her. The Ring must be shown to the council.

“So it is true,” Boromir said, snapping Varilerin from her struggle. Varilerin widened her eyes, for she saw in him a growing darkness. She tensed her body, cautioning her senses and muscles, suspecting his intentions. Boromir stood up, calmly looking around the circle. “In a dream,” Boromir started. “I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. In the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, ‘your doom is near at hand’.” As Boromir told this, he slowly walked closer to the stone plinth. Varilerin was now alarmed, and so was Gandalf and Aragorn. Gandalf tensed and clutched his staff tightly, waiting for the man’s next move. “Isildur’s Bane is found,” Boromir muttered as he unconsciously continued his steps. His hands were now reaching out to take it, and the council froze to the depths of the earth. “Isildur’s Bane….”

Varilerin suddenly felt the darkness in Boromir’s heart blooming, and her body moved on its own. It ignored the harsh warning Elrond gave as he stood up, and Gandalf rising from his seat with his staff. With the speed of a warrior she prevented Boromir’s fingers from touching the Ring. Varilerin shuddered when she realized what she had done, only to tremble when Gandalf walked towards Boromir as he chanted deeply and furiously.

“Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gibatul, ash nazg thrakutuluk, agh burzum-ishi kripatul!” Gandalf chanted. A shadow seemed to grow behind him and his dire voice shook the circle. The Elves closed their eyes as the words echoed, but Varilerin stood still with Boromir’s hand in her grasp. Her silver eyes met his, warning him with her deadly glare.

“Do not dare,” she told him in Elvish. Boromir was immediately snapped from his trance and pulled himself away, looking horrified. Varilerin remained on her ground, whilst Gandalf’s voice stopped echoing in the hall. His darkened heart returned to its innocent state, but Varilerin still glared at him coldly. She did not care for the eyes that were now watching her, for the Man had proven that he was hiding a shadow indeed. She slowly stepped away from the Ring, not sparing it a glance, before she returned to her seat. Gandalf was breathing heavily as he sat once more, giving her a thankful glance.

“Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris,” Elrond said as he looked at Gandalf.

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!” Gandalf responded sharply. “The Ring is altogether evil.”

“It is a gift!” retorted Boromir, who was still under the influence of the Ring. Varilerin twitched her feet, warning her not to take any step closer to the plinth again. “Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him!”

“You cannot wield it,” Aragorn intervened. Boromir turned to face Aragorn, mocking him with a scowl that ruined his fair face. “The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master. It has brought to us only dangers and doom. The Hobbits have experienced it, so have Daefaroth and I,” Aragorn continued, glancing at Varilerin.

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?” Boromir shot back.

“He is no mere ranger,” Legolas said as he stood from his seat. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur.” Boromir was taken aback by this information, but he scoffed.

“The heir to the throne of Gondor? Hah, Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no king,” spat Boromir. Legolas looked unamused, so was Varilerin and Gandalf, though the former said nothing about it.

“Sit down, Legolas,” Aragorn suggested, calming the urge in the ellon’s blood to shoot Boromir. Legolas obeyed and stepped back from the battlefield, giving Elrond a chance to speak his mind.

“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it,” Elrond said. “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

Silence engulfed the council, because of the previous events and Elrond’s words. Elrond knew in their heart they wanted to take advantage of the Ring’s powers, and in his heart he had the slightest intentions to, but he had seen enough. The cursed weapon must perish from the world once and for all.

“What are we waiting for?” exclaimed Gimli as he came forth with his axe. Elrond tried to stop him, but failed when Gimli swung his weapon to the Ring. The weapon ultimately broke to pieces and the Dwarf himself thrown several feet away. The Council gasped in horror as the Ring remained unmarred, much to what Elrond had expected.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess,” Elrond explained calmly. “The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there it can be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.”

He paused, looking at the frozen council members. They all knew what Elrond was going to say next. “One of you must do this.”

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Boromir said, breaking the brief silence ensuing in the council. “Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever watchful. Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.” Varilerin didn’t dare to interrupt Boromir’s speech, for she knew that his words were true. She had walked along the borders of Mordor several times in her life, and without Sauron declaring his return as the Eye she could feel darkness lingering in the land. It was the same feeling she had with the Ring, and the Ringwraiths.

Legolas stood up, his face angered and furious. “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?” he exclaimed, pronouncing the thought Varilerin had had. “The Ring must be destroyed!”

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” Gimli retorted harshly.

“And if we fail what then?” Boromir added, standing from his seat. “What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

“I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an ELF!” Gimli shouted, jumping to his feet. Immediately the Mirkwood Elves stood beside Legolas, aiding their kin, while Boromir joined their debate with Gimli. Gandalf shook his head before standing up to end their argument, or so it seemed, for the argument got worse.

“Do you not understand that while we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron’s power grows?” None can escape it! You’ll all be destroyed!” Gandalf said angrily. Varilerin shuddered when Gandalf joined the argument, but remained in her seat. If Gandalf could not do anything to stop the men from debating, Varilerin had the more reason to stand down. Not far, she could see Aragorn and Elrond sighing. She frowned, wondering if the council was indeed comprised by the wisest of the races. As she watched the others bickering, she noticed Frodo acting strangely beside her. His blue eyes lookedas if they were in pain, both directed towards the Ring lying idly in the centre.

“Frodo?” she asked him. The noise must be causing her voice to fade, but she knew that Frodo not hearing her was not because of the noisy crowd. Frodo slowly stood from his seat and suddenly stepped closer to the debating men. Varilerin could not move, nor prevent the Hobbits from saying words she didn’t want him to say.

“I will take it!” Frodo said, his voice sure and stern. “I will take the Ring to Mordor!” he repeated, this time louder and clearer. The crowd instantly died down, turning to the Hobbit. Varilerin winced and Gandalf closed his eyes in sorrow, knowing that those words would now put the Hobbit into an inescapable fate. Bilbo widened his eyes, but could not do a single thing to prevent his nephew. “Though,” Frodo continued in the terrifying silence,” I do not know the way.”

Gandalf slowly opened his eyes, and looked at Bilbo. The inevitable remains inevitable, he said through his gaze. “I will help you…. Bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear,” Gandalf slowly said, walking towards the Hobbit and standing behind him. Everyone remained bemused by Gandalf and Frodo’s actions, until Aragorn moved from his seat and knelt in front of Frodo.

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.” Aragorn stood up and joined Gandalf, giving him a confident smile that gave a strange hope to the council.

“And you have my bow,” Legolas added, joining the fray. Gimli was surprised by the ellon’s declaration and snorted.

“And my axe!” Gimli said as he skipped to Frodo’s back, beside Legolas who looked at him lowly. Boromir eyed the small company with dark eyes, before he stepped in the circle.

“You carry the fate of us little one,” Boromir spoke grimly. He looked at all the members of the council. “If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.”

Varilerin watched as the captain joined the company. There was a strange feeling vibrating through her body when she saw the company, a strong urge beating in her heart. Slowly she stepped closer to the company, and then her silver eyes met theirs. They looked at her, their gaze questioning her intentions. She stood still for a moment, trying to find words. She knew her master, Lord Elrond, and possibly Arwen were watching her from afar. She felt as if Arwen was talking to her mind, telling her not to go.

“If this journey can free Middle Earth from the evil of Sauron… and release me from the guilt of my failure in the past, I shall help you,” Varilerin said as she bowed to Frodo. “You have my shadow as your protection, Frodo Baggins.”

Frodo was startled by her words, but somehow found the courage to smile. Varilerin nodded and joined the company beside Gandalf, who was giving her a smile of pride. She met the eyes of Glorfindel, deep and sad of her decision I care not, Varilerin assured herself. This is the only path left to take. I know I am fated to take this path, she told her master as their eyes locked with each other. Glorfindel closed her eyes and finally smiled, acknowledging her decision. Then it is the best for you, My Child.

“Mr. Frodo’s not going anywhere without me!” suddenly Sam’s face boomed, startling all of them. Out of the shadows ran Sam, leaping to the circle. He stood awkwardly beside Frodo, who gave him a confused look.

“No indeed it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not!” Elrond sternly said, causing the Hobbit to stare the floor in embarrassment.

“Wait! We’re coming too!” Merry shouted, emerging from his hiding place with Pippin. They ran past Elrond like wild boars before they joined Sam in the company. “You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us.”

“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…. Quest…. Thing!” Pippin added with a wavering voice.

“Well, that rules you out Pip,” Merry teased him. Pippin shoved Merry’s ribs, causing him to chuckle.

Elrond gazed at the strange company with fascination and wonder. A group of unimaginable individuals had lined in front of him: Four little Hobbits, an heir to Isildur, a son of a Gondorian Steward, an Istari, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a peredhil. Elrond sensed a strange doubt coming from his heart, but seeing them altogether somehow gave him enough hope to smile. “Ten companions….” Elrond’s smile grew wider as he stood to his feet. “So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!”

The name echoed in the hall, giving each race a new hope for the future. They studied the queer company tentatively, sensing that they could be entrusted with the fate of Middle Earth. All of them nodded in agreement, and let the Fellowship be truly formed under their acknowledgement.

“Great!” Pippin exclaimed when he noticed this. “Where are we going?”

The next thing the Hobbit remembered was a fist smacking his head.