The Council of Elrond

Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

AN.: My dear Hobbit and LOTR fans. Did you realize, that in the book and in the film some important characters are missing during the Council of Elrond? As a true BOFA denier I've taken the liberty of fixing that.

Enjoy!

Chapter One

Susurrant robes, soft footfalls and hushed murmurings...the open halls of Rivendell were packed with members of all free peoples of Middle Earth.

Kíli stood under a lofty archway, arms folded across his chest, and regarded thoughtfully the impressive gathering. He recognized only a few members of the delegations and knew nearly none of them in person. But suddenly he spotted a familiar face. ''Bilbo!'' he cried, shouldering his way through the mingling crowd.

The small, hunched figure of the Hobbit straightened and looked up, his grey hair shining in the morning sun softly filtering in the hall through open arcs. ''Kíli? Is that you, my dear lad?'' Bilbo was old now, that was plain to see. But with shaky arms he pulled the taller dwarf into a crushing embrace.

Seeing Bilbo again was a special joy. Kíli held him tight for a moment, a flood of old memories flashing through his mind.

Bilbo stood back half a step and eyed the dwarf, scrutinizing him from head to toe, frowning, one hand still on Kíli's arm. ''Well, you look good, my friend. Everything all right?''

Kíli smiled. He knew exactly what the Hobbit was referring to. ''Yes, last time I checked I was in one piece.'' He patted Bilbo's shoulder with a twinkle in his eyes. ''Look who I brought, too.'' He stepped to the side, making room for his brother, Glóin and Gimli.

''Fíli!'' Bilbo beamed, but suddenly he froze, hastily assuming a look of sheer sobriety. He bowed deeply, almost toppling over. ''At your Service, Your Majesty,'' he said with a fancy flourish of his arms.

Fíli laughed. ''Stop this, my friend,'' he said, pulling Bilbo up and embraced him, patting his back. ''Good to see you, too.''

And then Glóin and Bilbo faced each other. A moment of silence and an understanding look.

''What happened?'' Bilbo asked, pointing at the silver-white wealth of Glóins beard.

''Well,'' Glóin mused, motioning at the Hobbits grey mob of curls with one hand, stroking his beard with the other. ''Looks like something rather similar happened to you.''

They all laughed, then Bilbo turned around and pulled Frodo, who stood half hidden behind his uncle in front of him. ''My dear friends, may I introduce… my nephew Frodo Baggins''.

They four dwarves bowed, hand on heart, and Frodo returned the gesture. Oddly the following conversation escaped Kíli completely. For a long moment he locked eyes with the younger Hobbit. They never met before, but there was something, something they shared, just …something . He could see it through his eyes. The pain… the fragileness of some kind... they shared something… cursed, tainted, a Morgul-wound. A small nod and a knowing look. Kíli said nothing and the moment was gone…

The clear sound of a bell calling for council filled the lofty arcades. It was time then, and the dwarves and Hobbits entered the council chamber together.

There were men from the North and of course a delegation of elves. Elves! Kíli snorted when he saw them among the crowd, moving with a fluid elegance… and then he froze, rooted to the spot: tall and slender, long white –blond hair… Why on earth must they send THAT elf of all elves? He stared at Legolas, clenched his teeth, flexed his hands and then he tried to ignore him the best he could. The Prince of Woodland realm almost pierced Kíli with an ice cold glare. Kíli stood firm… managed a very small tilt of his head and held his tongue.

He felt Fíli's strong, reassuring hand on his shoulder and turned his head. ''Come on, '' Fíli whispered in his ear. ''Forget about him. I think he's quite unlikely to throw us in Lord Elrond's dungeons, if there even are any. We have bigger fish to fry.''

Kíli scowled while the elves passed on, almost floating. He allowed Fíli to grab his elbow, steering him away.

''Let's see, what we have here,'' Fíli said while they took their seats.

''I'm pretty sure this is all my fault,'' Bilbo mused and slumped back in his much too big chair.''

Fíli leaned forward but before he could answer the Hobbit, Lord Elrond spoke:

''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…''

Fate and doom... Kíli felt a cold trickle running down his spine while Frodo placed the Ring on a stone pedestal. And he was not the only one who obviously felt uneasy. He had seen parts of those dark forces... a long time ago. And he'd just witnessed that something dark and evil was brewing in the East. And not nearly half of the present envoys could guess what had lead to all of this.

Slowly a man from Gondor rose from his chair, stepped forward and reached out for the Ring. He looked driven by some evil kind of spell. He didn't even hear Lord Elrond's warning.

And suddenly the whole place rolled with deep thunder, and a black coldness crept through the room. It appeared like Gandalf was awesomely growing while he spoke the dark cursed words secretly written on the Ring. Everyone present in the council froze and flinched. Boromir recoiled from the Ring as if burned.

Oh, Gandalf, Kíli chuckled. Fíli, Glóin and Bilbo seemed to be a bit amused as well, even if they tried hard to look seriously frightened. They'd witnessed the wizard's little trick before... in Bag End.

But the magic did its service. The man from Gondor took his seat again.

Now the council started in earnest, revealing many astonishing things. A lot of questions had to be answered, a lot of tales had to be told and legends revealed.

And finally it was the turn of Durin's Folk to convey the state of affairs in the northern lands.

Kíli exchanged a quick look with his brother, who radiated a sense of calm. Fíli slightly shook his head.

Fíli, King under the Mountain, quietly elbowed Glóin, now his most trusted Counselor, indicating him that on behalf of him he should report of all the peril gathering in Erebor's lands.

Kíli listened and watched the other envoys, sitting in the circle, while old Glóin told of the groping tendrils emanating from dark forces which reached for the Lonely Mountain, trying to gain control over the dwarven Kingdom.

The black rider...he still felt the cold, creeping horrors, recalling the sound of the messenger's voice and his tainted words. But they'd stood up to him. Kíli remembered all too well standing on Erebor's parapet, a scary cold wind on his face. Like so many times before... shoulder to shoulder he stood with Fíli. A short look in his brother's eyes was all they'd needed to hold their ground. Fíli's King voice had reverberated with determination from Erebor's walls... having no issue simply telling the rider in no uncertain terms to get lost.

Yes. Kíli smiled fiercely recalling that moment... unconsciously he made a fist. Though… whether that had been wise or not at that day, Kíli wasn't sure. But it had been a satisfying moment, by all means.

With the dwarves' story told, Lord Elrond assumed the duty adding more of the tales of the past, history of old, long ago… all concerning the one Ring.

This was dragging on for hours now. And Lord Elrond was just reporting events from the middle of the Second Age.

Kíli tried desperately not to fall asleep. Of course this was the most urgent decision to make …for Middle Earth... for all of them. But after all these hours of hearing back stories he couldn't help feeling exhausted, almost fuzzy-brained.

He had his elbow propped up on the armrest of the chair, chin in his hand. His head had grown much too heavy long ago. He blinked, wondering how Gimli managed to be that alert. After his elbow had slipped from the armrest for the umpteenth time, he shifted in his seat, trying to find a better position and stay awake. He looked at Fíli. His brother was obviously not doing any better. Fílis jaw was set, his lips a tight line, eyes blinking, pretending to be awake.

Kíli's thoughts wandered, musing what the outcome of this council might be. Some of what was said during the last few hours had escaped Kíli… well…admittedly a lot of it. But one thing became pretty clear to him in a terrifying plain way. Once again it deemed that someone had to go on a dangerous quest. The Ring couldn't stay in Rivendell… the Ring was not safe in this place.

All the sudden it went like a biting sting through Kíli's gut. Would Fíli take that task? Kíli felt ice-cold. It happened so many years from now, but the memories of that fateful day on the slopes of the Mountain were still crystal clear in Kíli's head, like it just had happened the day before. The battle… the whole quest…it had been close, very close… much too close for Kíli's taste.

But they represented one of the Seven Kingdoms, and they would not evade what was to come.

Though...if the Sons of Durin had learned one thing from that cursed quest all those years ago, it was this: if you want the line of succession to be secured, do not send the entire royal family into danger at the same time. He'd not wasted a single thought on that all these years back. Fíli, neither.

Loyalty, honor... a willing heart. Of course they had all of this. They still had it. But times were different now. They were older–wiser perhaps. No, they shouldn't ever risk their lives again… not like this. Bad enough that the evil would show up on their doorsteps…it had shown up already, in fact.

No, Fili was King of Erebor. He couldn't do that.

So the task would be his?

Unwittingly he rubbed his right leg. A dull pain was creeping from his knee through the muscles of his right leg, making his skin tingle. His hair stood on end.

Kíli shook his head to clear his mind and caught up to the briefing.

''Why not use this ring?'' Boromir said. ''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.''

Kíli was instantly fully awake. Wielding a cursed thing like that? What was the man of Gondor talking about? He must be insane. That was madness, Kíli knew. Better not to touch such a thing. He himself could tell a thing or two about that. And to be honest, Kíli doubted that Gondor was able to keep the lands of Middle Earth safe from Mordor's shadows.

He locked eyes with Fíli in quiet accord. A small smile… a look from his eyes. They needed no words for this. Fíli thought exactly the same.

The ranger from the north began to speak. ''You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.''

Kíli nodded in silent agreement, even if no one noticed. The man from Gondor began to respond, annoyance written across his face. But before he could utter a single word, Lord Elrond calmingly raised his hands. ''Bilbo, it think it's time to learn your part of the story. Tell us about the Ring.''

The old hobbit was startled, but then he stood. ''Well then...'' he began, ''actually it's time for a midday meal, since the second breakfast and the 11 o'clock tea were already cancelled. But maybe you're right. After all these years, it's time to let you know what really happened.''

Kíli's tiredness was gone. He'd been there, but he'd never learned something about that part of their journey.

Bilbo was completely in his element. He talked… he talked a lot… he embellished and refined. Fíli smiled and Kíli tapped his knee. They looked at each other, Kíli winked and Fíli suppressed a small laugh, nodding. Storytelling, exactly the Hobbit's thing.

Fíli sobered again and leaned closer to whisper in his brother's ear. "Has it ever occurred to you that this evil thing was just under our noses for half of that quest?" He asked.

Kíli shook his head. ''No, never ever, but maybe it explains a lot of what went wrong those days.'' He rubbed his knee again and Fíli just made a small nod and put one hand on his shoulder.

Bilbo finished with a bow and sat.

Kíli marveled. He'd never thought that Bilbo had such a fateful encounter while they'd stood in front of that more than disgusting Orc-King and barely escaped with their lives. But all these years he'd asked himself what the Hobbit had hidden from them after they'd reunited under strange circumstances on the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains. This put a new complexion on that day.

The further tales about the creature Gollum told by Aragorn and Gandalf were new and equally remarkable. Kíli shuddered from the sheer thought, what became of that being under the influence of such a small piece of cursed metal. Again a flash of pain flinched through his right leg.

Viewed in this light, it was probably better that the seven Rings of the Dwarves were lost, even if the circumstances were sad.

Then Kíli couldn't quite believe his ears. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. Aragorn left that creature with the elves? The elves? Well, he knew a bit about the dungeons of elves…

The next thing they heard, all of them would have preferred to forgo.

''I'm bringing bad news.'' Legolas finally confessed. ''Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped.''

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AN: Thank you so much to my writing buddy Summerald for being my beta again and encouraging me to finish this little bit. And thanks to The Timeless Cycle, who approved that there are lot of scenes where the lads are needed through LOTR and who gave me the pleasant image of King Fíli and Prince Kíli dealing with the messenger from Mordor.

I hope you like the little story. Please leave me a note or a PM and let me know what you think.

Part two will be out next week.

Mahals Blessings, Jessie

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