Muffled muttering from the terrace halted Ezra Baggins in the very act of rubbing at his
bandaged shoulder. He immediately snatched his fingers away from the wound and put on his
best innocent look. He'd already been caught twice by Orrin, once apiece by Josiah and Chris,
and three times by Marcus. He had no desire to repeat any of those experiences.
Welcoming any distraction from the infernal itching, the young Hobbit followed the sounds
outside. A half-smile touched his mouth as he padded up quietly behind the mutterer. "Packing
already, Josiah?"
The older Hobbit whirled around at the sound of his voice, a look of chagrin and a bit of
defiance lighting his face. "No harm bein' prepared."
Ezra tried desperately to contain his amusement at his friend's expression. "I thought you
wanted to see the Elves, Josiah."
"I do."
"More than anything," the green-eyed Hobbit teased further, turning away so Josiah couldn't
see the mirth dancing in those eyes. Josiah's next words, however, wiped any trace of merriment
from his face.
"I did. It's just that . . ." Josiah paused a bit. "We did what Orrin wanted, didn't we? We got
the Ring this far to Rivendell, and, seeing as how you're on the mend and all, I thought we'd be
off again . . . off home," he finished wistfully.
A stunning wave of homesickness stalled Ezra's response. Pulling himself together, he said
softly. "You're right, Josiah." He turned to face his friend again. "I am ready to go home."
Nodding his agreement, Josiah carefully threw his arm over his younger companion's
shoulders and led him back to the packs.
+ + + + + + +
Watching from the balcony above, Marcus remarked thoughtfully, "And so his strength
returns. Yet to have come so far with the Ring, the Hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to
its evil."
Orrin looked up sharply at the Elf King. "It is a burden he never should have had to bear. We
can ask no more of Ezra."
Marcus frowned and paced away from the wizard. "Sauron's forces are amassing in the east.
His Eye is fixed on Rivendell, and Saruman, you say, has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows
thin." His face set into severe lines. "The Ring cannot stay here."
Sighing, Orrin lowered his head briefly before squaring his shoulders and delivering the rest
of his bad news. "It is worse than we feared. I've found out that Saruman has crossed orcs with
goblin men. He's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard, an army that can move freely in
sunlight and come a great distance at speed."
The Elf's voice was harsh with his reply. "This evil cannot be concealed by the power of the
Elves! We do not have the power to fight both Mordor and Isengard!"
The sound of many horses' hooves in the courtyard stayed whatever else Marcus may have
said. Staring over the edge of the balcony at the diverse mix of riders dismounting there, his next
words were a bit calmer. "This peril is shared by all races of Middle-Earth."
He stared over the distance between himself and the wizard and demanded, "The time of the
Elves is over. My people are leaving these shores. Who, then, will you turn to? The Dwarves?
They hide in their mountains seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others."
Orrin looked up from his own contemplation of the riders and said, "It is in men that we
must place our hope."
Marcus' face twisted with angry scorn. "Men? Men are weak. It is because of Men that the
Ring still survives. I was there, Orrin, I was there three thousand years ago." His eyes grew
distant. "Isildur took the ring."
There was a lengthy pause as Marcus lost himself in unpleasant memories then he shook
himself free of them and glared at Orrin. "I was there when the strength of Men failed. The blood
of Numenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. There is no hope left in the world of
Men. They are scattered, divided, leaderless."
"There is one who could unite them," the wizard insisted softly. "One who could reclaim the
throne of Gondor."
Marcus shook his head. "He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile."
+ + + + + + +
Chris sat in the quiet of the Hall of Narsil, reading. Once Ezra had introduced him to his
uncle, Bilbo had been more than happy to let him go over what he'd written so far about his own
adventures. He was halfway through the riddle match between Bilbo and Gollum when another
person invaded the comforting silence. Concealed in the shadows as he was, he waited to see
who else would venture into this lonely hall.
He was a bit surprised to see Raphael, the son of the Steward of Gondor, emerge from the
doorway. Apparently not sensing his presence, Raphael wandered further into the room. He
stopped before the mural depicting Sauron's defeat at Isildur's hands then turned to the altar
directly across from the painting. Eyes widening in awe, the swarthy warrior stepped up the dais,
and his hand hovered hesitantly over the broken sword lying there.
"The shards of Narsil." Raphael's hesitance vanished, and he plucked the hilt from the stone
platform. Chris frowned at this action but said nothing. He had given up his claim to the sword,
and so had no right to feel jealous of another touching it.
"The sword that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand." Running an admiring finger down the
blade, he accidentally cut himself at the jagged point left by the break. "It's still sharp . . ." He
held it reverently for a moment, thinking, before despair settled over him like an old, familiar
cloak. "But no more than a broken hilt." He dropped the sword, uncaring where it landed, and
strode out of the room as it crashed to the floor.
Chris set the book aside and walked forward. Picking up the hilt, he positioned it carefully
back in its original resting place, then stepped back, one hand over his heart. A deep sadness
filled his mind as he stared at the broken blade, clouding his awareness to such a degree that
Sarah was able to sneak up on him for a second time in so few days.
"Why do you fear the past?" she asked in her familiar, tender tone. "You are Isildur's heir,
not Isildur himself."
Chris turned to face her, the sadness and a touch of fear still evident in his blue eyes. "The
same blood runs in my veins." He looked away in shame. "The same weakness."
Sarah would not let him dwell in such self-doubt. "The time will come when you will face
the same evil." The dark-haired Elf lifted a hand and gently drew it down one side of his face.
"And you will defeat it." Her next words were in her native tongue and held the conviction of her
beliefs. //The shadow does not hold sway yet, not over you, not over me.//
The Ranger still did not looked convinced. With a sigh at his stubbornness, Sarah took his
hand and led him out of the hall, out of the castle itself to the gardens behind it. They walked
together in silence for a time until the reached the center of a small bridge. Sarah stopped then
and faced the man who owned her heart.
//Do you remember when we first met?//
A quiet chuckle escaped Chris, and he tugged their joined hands closer to his chest. //I
thought I had strayed into a dream.//
Smiling, Sarah trailed her fingers across Chris' brow and down his face in a comforting
manner. //You did not have the cares you carry now.// Her dark eyes softened with the love she
felt for this Man. //Do you remember what I told you?//
Chris swallowed hard, overcome by the emotion he saw in her eyes and by the emotion he
felt in return. Unable to speak for a moment, he traced the sharp lines of the pendant she wore,
trying to steady himself. Nevertheless, his voice still trembled slightly when he answered her.
"You said . . . you would bind yourself to me, forsaking the immortal life . . . of your people."
"And to that I hold," the Elfin Princess replied in a soft, determined tone. Chris tried to shake
his head in denial, but Sarah stilled his effort with her next words. "I would rather spend one
lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone. I choose a mortal life."
Chris started a bit when he felt something warm and sharp in the palm of his clenched hand.
Uncurling his fingers, he could not believe what lay there. Raising stricken eyes to the Elf's, he
murmured softly, "You cannot give me this."
Sarah folded her hands over his and closed his fingers once more around the Evenstar
pendant she had worn but a moment before. "It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart."
Leaning forward, she touched her lips to Chris', sealing the vow she'd just renewed. Chris'
grip on her hands tightened before he reluctantly gave in to her will and returned the kiss.
+ + + + + + +
The following day saw all newcomers to Rivendell seated in a semi-circle before Elrond's
outdoor throne. The dark Elf King stood before the assembly of Elves, Dwarves, Men, Hobbit
and Wizard, and began gravely.
"Travelers from distant lands, friends of old, you are here today to answer the threat of
Mordor. Each race is bound to this one destiny, this one doom. You will unite, or you will fall."
The dark eyes fixed on the single Hobbit present and gestured for him to come forward. "Bring
forth the Ring, Ezra."
With a glance at Orrin for reassurance, Ezra took the ring out of his breast pocket and
crossed the distance from his chair to the round, stone table in front of Marcus. He set it down
gently in its center then returned to his seat. A heartfelt sigh of relief escaped him as he settled
back into the chair at being free of such a terrible burden and waited to see what would happen
next.
Around the Hobbit, there was much muttering and exclamation of dismay. Knowing what
the Ring was, Ezra couldn't help but agree with most of what was being said, especially when
someone declared it the "Doom of Man." Therefore, he was as startled as the rest when one Man
stood and announced otherwise.
"It is a gift," Raphael said in rallying tones. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Long has my
father, the Steward of Gondor, opposed the threat of Mordor. By the blood of my people are your
lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, and we cannot fail."
From his seat far to Marcus' right, Chris replied in a calm, knowing tone, "You cannot wield
it! The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
Raphael whirled to face Chris and raised one disdainful brow when he recognized the
speaker. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?"
A slim, blond Elf, who had remained quiet until this point, jumped to his feet and confronted
Raphael. Blue eyes blazing, he said firmly, "This is no mere Ranger. He is Chris, son of Larabee.
You owe him your allegiance."
Raphael looked as though he didn't know whether to laugh or choke on his surprise. "Chris?
This is Isildur's heir?"
Chris shifted a bit, uncomfortable with the awe-struck stares of shock now aimed in his
direction. But it was Ezra's wide-eyed look of shock and not a little bit of betrayal that hit him
the hardest, and he shifted his gaze to the floor rather that meet such a look. He had never meant
to deceive any of the Halflings, but he had deceived himself for so long that the lies had become
the truth until Vin had spoken the right of it. He could only hope that Ezra and the others would
find it in their hearts to forgive him.
The Elf, however, was not willing to let Raphael's disrespect go unchallenged. "And heir to
the throne of Gondor," he stated levelly, meeting Raphael's hostile gaze without flinching.
Chris, though, just wanted to fade back into the relative anonymity of his Ranger persona
and forget his responsibility as Isildur's heir. Raising one hand, he told his Elfin defender, //Sit
down, Vin.//
Vin did so reluctantly. Raphael's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Chris once again.
"Gondor has no king," he hissed loudly enough for everyone to hear as he strode back to his
chair. "Gondor needs no king."
There was an uncomfortable pause as everyone waited to see what Chris' response to this
might be, but when he did nothing, Orrin once again drew everyone's attention to the real
problem at hand. "Chris is right. We cannot use it."
"Then we have only one choice," Marcus intoned. "The Ring must be destroyed."
"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" the leader of the three Dwarves present exclaimed.
He was unusually dark for a Dwarf, but everything else about him was typical for his race.
Including his impatience. Snatching up one of his companion's axes, the Dwarf rushed the stone
table and with a cry, swung it down on the Ring.
The moment it made contact, two things happened. First, the axe shattered into a dozen
pieces, and the Dwarf flew backwards to the floor. At the same time, the flashing red Eye of
Sauron blazed inside Ezra's head, and he winced with the pain and horror of it. Orrin saw the
motion, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but before he could ask what was wrong, Marcus
spoke once more.
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Nathan, son of Obadiah, by any craft we here possess," he
admonished the stunned Dwarf. "It was forged in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be
unmade." His gaze flickered over the entire assembly. "One of you must do this."
Into the silence following this proclamation, Raphael spoke. "One does not simply walk into
Mordor," he said in a tone that Ezra had only heard before as a child when one of the older
Hobbit children told stories to frighten the younger ones. This, though, was no child's tale. "Its
black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep, and the
great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren waste, riddled with fire and ash, and the very air you
breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand Men could you do this. It is folly."
Vin sprang to his feet again. "Have you hear nothing Lord Marcus has said? The Ring must
be destroyed!"
Nathan, his pride stung still, glared indignantly at the tall Elf. "And I suppose you will be the
one to take it?" Vin shot a matching glare at the Dwarf in reply.
Raphael shook his head and cried, "What if you fail? What then? What will happen when the
Dark Lord comes to reclaim what is his?"
Shooting up from his seat, Nathan declared, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the
hands of an Elf! Never trust an Elf!"
From there, full-scale chaos engulfed the Council. Ezra had never seen anything like this, not
even when the Boffins and the Bolgers had started a feud that had lasted for fifty years in the
Shire. The other Elves with Vin rushed to his side, and would have continued forward to teach
the insolent Dwarf a lesson in respect if Vin had not held them back. The Dwarves likewise
flanked their leader and continued to shout their insults. Orrin had risen to try and calm
everybody back down while Marcus and Chris remained seated and silent.
A sudden, insidious whispering pulled Ezra attention away from the bickering Council and
back to the Ring. His large green eyes grew even larger in horrified fascination as the Ring began
to reflect fire and the whispering grew louder and louder in his mind until it drowned out the
angry shouting. It struck him then that there was only one option left - for all of them.
Jumping out of the much too large seat, Ezra tried to speak over the out of control argument.
"I will take it." When no one, not even Marcus, seemed to pay him any mind, the young Hobbit
shouted, "I will take it!"
A hush fell over the Council at the brave words, and Orrin's eyes closed in sorrow. In his
heart, he had known, from the moment he had charged Ezra with getting the Ring out of the
Shire, that this would be the end result. But he had desperately wished it otherwise. Ezra's next
hesitant words only reinforced Orrin's desire to protect the Hobbit, but they also filled him with
pride in his young friend.
"I will take the Ring," Ezra repeated in a quieter tone, "though . . . I do not know the way."
Orrin laid a gentle hand on the youngster's shoulder and looked down into the wide,
frightened eyes. "I will help you bear this burden, Ezra Baggins, for as long as it is yours to
bear." The wizard watched as some of the fear left Ezra's face with this promise and hoped that
in the days to come, he would do nothing to betray that trust the Hobbit had in him.
Chris stood and spoke up for the first time since the arguing began. "If by my life or death, I
can protect you, I will." He crossed the space that separated them and knelt before Ezra. Placing
one hand over his heart as a token of his pledge, he added, "You have my sword."
"And my bow," Vin agreed, coming to stand beside the growing number of defenders of
Ezra Baggins.
Not to be outdone by an Elf, Nathan growled, "And my axe." He, too, moved to the small
knot of beings in the center of the room, ending up beside Vin. Neither one looked too pleased
by the fact.
Raphael's eyes glittered with an unreadable emotion. Nevertheless, he stepped forward and
added his own vow. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is the will of the Council, then
Gondor will see it done."
"Hah!" Josiah suddenly parted the bushes behind where the Council sat and insinuated
himself between Chris and Ezra. "Mr. Ezra's not going anywhere without me."
Marcus looked amused at the unwavering loyalty displayed by the elder Hobbit. "No indeed.
It is hardly possibly to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you
are not."
The Elf King's amusement turned to vexation when another small voice piped up from
behind the palace doors, and Buck and JD came charging down the steps. "Hey, we're coming,
too!"
Buck saw Ezra hesitate, his friend not wanting to allow them to follow after him into any
more danger than he already had and mock-growled, "And you'll have to tie us up in a sack to
try and stop us!"
JD crossed his arms and squared up beside Buck against the force of Marcus' glare.
"Anyway, you'll need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing."
Rolling his eyes, Buck swatted the back of his best friend's head. "Well, that rules
you out, JD."
Forcing himself to maintain his calm though his lips twitched suspiciously, Marcus surveyed
the group before him and said thoughtfully. "Nine companions. Very well. You shall be the
Fellowship of the Ring."
Nodding vigorously in agreement, JD asked, "Good. Where are we going?"
The End
