Chapter 4.  Hope for the Future.

Elrond listened in silence, nodding his head occasionally in agreement with some point or other as Legolas explained Thranduil's assessment of the situation both in Mirkwood, and along the borders near Erebor and Dale.

"I see my faith in Thranduil is well founded for indeed the defense of the lands to the north lies safely in his capable hands. The battle I fear is that yet to come will exact a great toll from his realm, but I have no doubt that the strength of Mirkwood’s King will see him prevail,” said Elrond confidently, smiling at the pride he sensed his words evoked in Legolas. “Your Adar proved himself to be a fearsome warrior, as well as a great leader when the need arose in the past, and you have every reason to be proud of him.”

“I have always been proud of him,” replied Legolas with heartfelt sincerity. “Adar has told me of many of your acts of courage during the Last Alliance, and I would that I could have seen you both as the warriors you were in those days. Would it surprise you to hear that he also holds your skills as a warrior in high regard?”

“Nay, for as you most likely will discover as you travel on the quest, there is a certain camaraderie and respect that develops between warriors, regardless of their personal viewpoints. Whilst Oropher and Gil-galad were soften in disagreement over strategies and leadership, they each respected the other as the magnificent and formidable warriors they both were,” said Elrond unable to hide the pain that he still felt at the loss of his King and friend. As the moment of silence lingered between the two, his eyes were drawn to the slow movement of the younger Elf’s fingers as they absently caressed the hilt of his knife.

"Is that not Oropher's knife?" asked Elrond, easily recognizing the white handled blade that had been wielded with such expertise by the King of Greenwood the Great, now that he took time to study it more closely.

"Ai, Adar tells me his sire was far more skilled with the knife than the bow," answered Legolas.

"And so he was. Oropher always made time to practice, often with Thranduil, in fact, and when he did many Elves, of both armies, would stand and watch. I remember thinking that he moved with such speed and precision that it appeared as if he and his blade were one. It was an impressive sight to see such deadly grace and elegance, and as highly skilled as Thranduil was at that time, he could never defeat your grandsire."   Elrond turned to look out over his valley as he recalled that time millennia ago. The past could not be undone, no matter how he much he wished it could, so he swiftly changed the subject back to the present.  Facing Legolas once more, he raised his eyebrow in query.

"I know of your skill as an archer, but how do you fare with the knife?"

"I am ‘politely’ considered a 'capable' swordsman by the captain of the Guard," answered Legolas with a wry grin, remembering the many bruises inflicted on his person with the wooden practice swords.

"But a far more talented archer?" surmised Elrond.

"Ai, but when Adar handed me the knife, it fit so well in my grip that I felt as if I had already the skill needed to wield it, " Legolas told his elder.

"It is an elvish blade, forged at a time when our light shone brightly. Do not question its power, simply accept it. However, I also caution you to not become over confident. Even with his extraordinary command of the weapon, Oropher was no match for the minions of the Dark Lord," Elrond said sadly.  “Since Thranduil gave you this heirloom, I assume you have told him of your plans, but you have yet to tell me what he had to say about your decision to join the Fellowship.”

“He understands all too well the need to destroy the One Ring, and once I explained my reasons, he gave me his full approval and support," Legolas told him.

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Aragorn had also returned from his scouting mission, and after many discussions with Gandalf and Elrond, the most favorable route for the journey south was finally mapped out. All there was left to do was for Elrond to name the last two Walkers. After much discussion, and a strong recommendation from Gandalf, he conceded that Merry and Pippin were also meant to go.

The news was happily received by all the Hobbits, but especially Merry and Pippin so after they left Elrond’s study, they sought out Boromir to thank him for his help. The Man of Gondor was surprised to hear that they would be part of the Fellowship, but he laughed heartily when Merry told him that Pippin had threatened to follow the Fellowship if Elrond did not name him as one of the Nine Walkers.

“So all your sword practice had little to do with the final decision, and it was your words that swayed him after all,” he said after they had told him their news.

“Well, it was not mentioned, but I am certain Mater Elrond knows how hard we have been practicing and what an excellent teacher you are,” answered Merry not wishing to hurt Boromir’s feelings.

“And we still have much to learn. We can have more lessons on the way south, if you are willing to continue as our tutor,” suggested Pippin with a hopeful smile.

“Aye, I would be pleased to do so. I would hate to see you unable to defend yourselves if we were attacked by Orcs or other foul creatures,” agreed Boromir.

“I think Frodo and Sam could also use a little practice,” said Aragorn as he approached the group. Merry and Pippin smiled at him, but Boromir’s dark look at the mention of Frodo caused Aragorn to frown with concern. The vague notion that the Man of Gondor was falling to the lure of the Ring quickly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it as unworthy; the son of Denethor was known to be an honorable man. He blinked once to refocus his thoughts when he felt an incessant tugging at his sleeve.

“So when do we leave Strider… er…   I mean Aragorn…  what name do you wish us to call you by?” asked Pippin, slightly confused by the two names but suddenly eager to begin this new adventure.

“Call me by whatever name you choose, Pippin,” he replied, smiling warmly at the young Hobbit. “We are planning to leave in a few days, and it is regarding our journey that I have sought you out.  I have come to inform you that Gandalf wishes to call a meeting of the Nine Walkers, so that we may all become better acquainted.”

“That is a wise suggestion. When and where is this meeting to be held?” asked Boromir.

“After the evening meal. Elrond has allowed us the use of his study.”

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Eight of the Nine Walkers had arrived at the appointed time, and were now waiting, some with more patience than others, for the ninth to arrive. Merry and Pippin were wandering around the room admiring the many ornaments and artifacts that adorned either the walls or the elegantly carved shelves attached to them. Frodo and Sam were fascinated by Elrond’s very large private book collection, and were carefully turning the pages of an ancient tome that lay open on a stand of its own.

Boromir and Gimli were more interested in the large glass case in the corner that was home to a suit of elvish armour. They did not need to ask to know that it was the very protection Elrond had worn at the battle he had spoken of at his council meeting. It was most impressive

“Anyone can see this book is very old, Mr. Frodo, do you not recognize the writing?” asked Sam.

“It looks to be a form of elvish, but I can not read any of the words,” Frodo replied in a whisper, as if to speak any louder would cause damage to the book.

“It is a history of the First Age, written in Quenya,” offered Aragorn.

“That is all very intriguing, I am sure, but what I would like to know is what is keeping that Woodland Elf! He should be here!” exclaimed Gimli, not in the least interested in elvish ancient history, and his emphasis on ‘Woodland’ sounding quite derogatory.

“If the members of this fellowship can not be civil towards each other in their speech or their actions, then there remains little hope for the success of the mission,” Gandalf said sternly, glaring at Gimli through eyes narrowed with disapproval.

“It is not civil to be late,” muttered Gimli as Legolas finally entered the room carrying a large object wrapped in a cloth with Dwarvish motifs embroidered on it.

“Please forgive me, Gandalf, my tardiness was not intentional. I was delayed by a messenger from Mirkwood,” said Legolas as he bowed with respect to the Istar.

“Not more Orc raids to report, I hope?” asked Aragorn with some concern. The elf shook his head.

“No, just some letters from Adar, for myself and Master Elrond and this,” he said lifting the bundle in his arms for all to see.

“What is that?” asked the ever-curious Pippin, as Legolas had placed it on the desk.

“It belongs to Gimli,” answered the Elf, as if that explained everything.

“What is it? Where did you get it?” asked the Dwarf, sounding affronted at having his personal belongings, whatever they were, delivered in such a manner.

“It is rather an interesting tale,” replied Legolas, his obliqueness beginning to annoy Gimli greatly.

“I am sure we all would like to hear it,” said Gandalf, indicating for the others to take a seat. If you would be so kind as to tell us, Legolas?”

“As you wish,” replied the Elf who had no desire to disobey the wizard. “As I said, the messenger, one of Adar’s guards, came from Mirkwood, and did indeed bring news and greetings to Elrond. He also brought that which you see on the desk, it is a gift for Gimli from his father. Glóin brought it to the Hall himself, according to the letter Adar wrote to me, and asked that be delivered to Gimli before his son left Rivendell. The messenger told me that there was utter silence in the throne room when Adar asked why the Elves should do this. Glóin replied that everyone knew we travel more swiftly than any other race, and he needed Gimli to receive this gift as soon a possible.”

“That must have been an interesting moment for Thranduil. At least this time Glóin had sense enough to explain his presence, rather than keep it to himself as Thorin did many years ago,” commented Gandalf with a small hint of amusement. 

“A surprise, most certainly, I venture to suggest,” added Aragorn, who also knew somewhat of the animosity between Mirkwood and Erebor. It was true that time had lessened the unfriendliness between the two realms, but it still existed, as Gimli and Legolas were only too willing to prove.

 “Open it Gimli, we are all dying of curiosity,” declared Merry. Gimli complied and carefully removed the heavy cloth, drawing a sharp breath of wonder as he revealed a battleaxe crafted with skills no longer remembered by the Dwarves. He lifted it reverently and moving to a safe distance from the others swung it in a graceful arc, testing the balance and the weight.

“Long have I desired to wield this axe, and I am not disappointed, for it is well suited to my hand,” he said to the others who were watching him with a mixture of awe and amusement. Gone was the gruff Dwarf, replaced by the strong, sturdy warrior.

‘That looks to be a very old weapon,” commented Boromir as Gimli lay it back down on the cloth.

“Aye, it is. It is not just any axe, but the one that had belonged to my forefather who was one of the few Dwarves who had also fought alongside the alliance of Men and Elves,” he explained with pride.

“As was my sword,” added Aragorn, clasping the hilt of the newly reformed Andúril.

“My knife also was used by my forefather in that war,” commented Legolas with equal pride.

His eyes shone with a hint of a smile, as, with a slight incline of his head, he acknowledged a comrade in arms. Gimli returned the acknowledgement in kind, and Gandalf almost sighed with relief to think that perhaps these two were ready to turn from the past and face the future.