Chapter Text
I
22nd October 3018
Imladris. Long the very memory of that sanctuary had been a balm to Aragorn. During his many years of wandering it had ever been in his thought, a succour and a strength, even when his own strength had failed and all the world around seemed dark. But even so he had to acknowledge that he had never yet reached the Hidden Valley with such desperate gratitude as he had two nights’ ago after weeks in the wild, shepherding the hobbits from danger to danger, barely daring to sleep or rest for fear of the Nazgûl hunting them through the dark. But make it to Imladris they had, and at last they were safe, for the moment at least. Here they had found respite. Their success had seemed hollow and empty as they had picked up Frodo’s body, pale and cold, from the banks of the Bruinen, bearing him sorrowfully to the House of Elrond. Yet for all Pippin and Sam’s quiet weeping the hobbit was not dead, not yet, though Frodo was still desperately ill, and it had taken all of the skills of Lord Elrond and his healers to keep him amongst the living. Even now, it seemed more than likely that he may yet succumb to that wound he had received during the attack at Weathertop. Then none could say what would become of him.
Like Frodo’s halfling companions, Aragorn had done little in the two days since they arrived in Imladris but sleep, eat and rest. Even for one of Aragorn's strength and endurance the road from Bree had not been an easy one. He had seen Arwen of course, and just the sight of her had healed something in his own soul, for they had been parted for too long while he kept watch upon the borders of the Shire through that anxious summer. Aragorn had aided Elrond’s work too, when he could, for it seemed some shadow lay yet upon Frodo, and Gandalf feared that a fragment of Morgûl steel was still buried within the hobbit’s shoulder. Aragorn could not deny that it was a possibility - the blade had shrivelled to dust before he had been able to examine it. But their patient was so weak they had feared to be too aggressive in their treatment, and so Frodo had been mostly left undisturbed, to rest and recover his strength amidst the healing air of Imladris, scented with clean waters and medicinal herbs. In a few hours, when Elrond deemed the hobbit strong enough he would send word for Aragorn and they would resume their search for that deadly splinter.
For now, Aragorn was engaged in another mission, for he had not yet had chance to speak with Gandalf, although the wizard had reached Imladris some days before he and the hobbits. The road had proved far more perilous than either of them had ever feared, and there was much he would discuss with his old friend.
Tracking the wizard down proved more difficult than Aragorn had imagined. The valley seemed remarkably busy this morn; during just the short walk from Arwen’s chambers near the rushing falls to the main house, Aragorn saw Elves of many kinds, but also groups of men and even a few Dwarves. The house was filling up and something, it seemed, was afoot. Gandalf was even more elusive amongst the hustle and bustle, but nothing could evade a Ranger on the hunt, and from the dining hall Aragorn was pointed in the direction of one of the many gardens, and it was there, under a curving archway beside a fountain that he finally tracked down his quarry.
As Aragorn approached, stepping through the fallen leaves scattered across the jewel-green grass, he saw that Gandalf was not alone. The wizard seemed to be engaged in discussion with a strange figure clad in grey and brown, and Aragorn slowed his pace so as not to intrude on their conversation. Well, perhaps not a conversation so much as a hissed argument which, Aragorn noted, was not being conducted in Sindarin, Westron, nor any other tongue known to him.
The hooded stranger noticed Aragorn first as the man came slowly down the steps and stopped speaking abruptly, turning away. The wizard looked around and his expression lightened.
'Aragorn!' Gandalf exclaimed, and came around the fountain to greet him, abandoning the stranger by the trees. 'I am most pleased to see you hale.'
'It is nothing but providence that kept us so, I am sure,' Aragorn said, clasping the wizard's arm in a grateful embrace. 'Is there news of Frodo today?'
'Nothing yet,' Gandalf said, his face clouded over. 'I will admit that I am dreadfully anxious. Elrond stays at his side for now; I had a few other matters that needed my attention.'
'If Frodo can be saved, I believe Lord Elrond shall prevail,' Aragorn said. 'And he is a most extraordinary hobbit - for all your words when last we met you did not quite prepare me for that. It was for you that I was most concerned at first. Until we found your sign at Weathertop I thought that you were taken or worse; we needed you and I have never known you to break your word before.'
'And I intend never to do so again,' Gandalf said. 'And I am sorry for my delay, though perhaps it will prove to have been for the best. But come, we have much to discuss, and I would do so before Elrond calls the council he proposes, for then many things shall be brought to light.'
'There are a great number of travellers here,' Aragorn agreed. 'I have not seen the house so full for many years.' He glanced over at the stranger who had remained still and silent over by the treeline, half turned away. He was an odd figure, dressed in travel-worn layers of grey and faded brown that were much repaired and fitted him poorly, and bore no devices or decoration that Aragorn could see. The mud splashed over the wrapped leather of his makeshift boots was dry, suggesting he had arrived from the wilds some time ago, and yet he still bore a traveller's pack upon his shoulders, and wore a ragged coat, scarf and a hood that between them served to cast his face completely into shadow. There was also a long, broad knife hanging from the stranger’s belt, heavy and not of Elvish make. That too was curious, for few bore weapons within Elrond's halls. All together the garb suggested a woodsman or a Ranger down on his luck, which made it even odder when a breath of wind shifted the stranger's hood a little and Aragorn caught a sudden glimpse of a sharp cheekbone, a beardless chin, and a flutter of pale hair. He realised that he was looking not at a man at all but at an Elf.
If the Elf in question noticed Aragorn’s curious glances he chose to ignore them, for he neither spoke nor made any attempt to introduce himself.
'Yes, many have gathered here as though some great summons called them forth,' Gandalf agreed blithely, seeming unaware of Aragorn’s curiosity about his companion. 'And though it seems otherwise I think we shall find that we come here on common purpose. Every one of us will have our parts to play in the days that are to come, and dark days they may well be. But come, let us go within, Aragorn. I would hear your tale in full.'
The wizard turned and walked towards the steps, leaving his former conversant standing alone.
'I did not wish to interrupt your conversation,' Aragorn said, gesturing towards the unknown Elf.
'Nay,' Gandalf said. 'We were quite finished.' There was a slight movement behind the wizard and Aragorn saw the Elf clench a hand tight as if in silent frustration, although if he disagreed that the argument was concluded he did not say so. The silence lasted another moment or two, before at last Gandalf gave in and said, irritably, 'Very well, for all the good it will do. Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dúnedain - meet Lith.'
Aragorn gave a respectful Elvish half-bow. 'Well met,' he said. The Elf returned the bow but still said nothing. Gandalf seemed to deem the matter concluded and continued up the stairs by Aragorn and then onwards, striding off across the terrace towards the library. Aragorn glanced back towards the fountain, but the strange Elf, the one Gandalf had named only as Lith, was already gone. There was not even a rustle amongst the trees.
Once they had found a secluded spot in the library to occupy, Aragorn and Gandalf talked long, and each found the tale of the other to be of much interest. The treachery of Saruman was grievous for Aragorn to hear, for every ally was vital, and to lose one with such power and influence, let alone one who controlled the strategic access through the Gap of Rohan, was a sore blow. Gandalf, in turn, pressed Aragorn for every detail he could recall of the Nazgûl, and they pondered long on the designs of the enemy. Aragorn asked about the council Gandalf had mentioned, and learned it had been planned for three days hence. Many of the travellers who had sought out the Hidden Valley had tidings, good or ill, and their news could affect all. But more importantly, representatives of the free peoples were present in Rivendell now in numbers that had not been gathered in one place for an Age. Not just the hobbits, but Dwarves from Erebor and Ered Luin, men from Gondor and the north, and Elves from Imladris, Mithlond and the Golden Wood. The previous night, a party of Wood-elves had even arrived across the mountains from the kingdom in Northern Mirkwood, bearing some tidings from their king. The ring was no longer just a concern for the Wise, and it was time for all the people of Middle-earth to come together in order to determine how this doom was to be met, whether they knew it yet or not.
When it was nearly noon a messenger arrived at the library bearing the expected summons from Elrond requesting both of them to attend the healing halls. Frodo was strong enough for Elrond to make another attempt to extract the Morgûl splinter and he wished for their assistance. They both stood and began their return to the infirmary together, and it was only when they were passing again by the garden with the fountain, now empty, that Aragorn thought to ask about the odd Elf.
'Your companion seemed a strange sort,' Aragorn said. 'Though perhaps I say it as shouldn’t.'
'What's that?' The wizard had seemed lost in his own thoughts and looked up.
'Lith,' Aragorn said. 'Your introduction told me nothing of him but a name. What of his father-line? From where does he hail? He was clothed almost like a Ranger and hardly in Elf fashion at all.'
'He is...a wanderer,' Gandalf said, which told Aragorn enough to know he would not be getting any clear answers from the wizard this day. 'I have not seen him for many years, and certainly did not think to encounter him as I escaped from Isengard; that was a chance meeting indeed. But he agreed to travel with me on hearing of my desperate haste, and has been of great assistance to me these last weeks searching for you in the wilds.'
Aragorn thought he noted slight censure in the wizard’s tone, as if he disapproved of Aragorn’s questions. Despite it, Aragorn could not help but add:
'I have never known an Elf to bear arms in Imladris before. Does he think himself to be in danger here?'
Gandalf sighed. 'You may think him over cautious, and maybe he is, but he has been given good cause to be in the past. But I would not think too much on Lith. I doubt you will see him about, for he keeps to himself and does not love other folk. As much as I would have it otherwise, I expect he shall soon be gone from here back to his solitude.'
And on the subject, the wizard would say no more. He was, however, proved quite correct about Lith’s reticence. Two more days passed and Aragorn did not see the Elf at all. In fact he all but forgot the small mystery in the face of his other concerns, for Frodo’s life still hung by a thread. The other hobbits, while initially distracted by the wonder of Rivendell and their joy at finding Bilbo there, had lapsed back into their fears for their kinsman, and could hardly be persuaded to leave Frodo’s side. But finally, on the night of the 23rd October, Elrond found what they had been seeking for days; the sliver of Morgûl steel that had broken off in Frodo’s shoulder and lay close to his heart. The piece was removed and melted, and by the combined efforts of Elrond, Gandalf and Aragorn, the dark sorcery was broken and Frodo’s spirit called back. Within hours the wound closed and began to heal, and they were able to bring the good tidings to the hobbits that Frodo would likely awake the next morning. It was a great relief to all who had come to love the hobbits, and those who had cared for him throughout those long days and nights went to their rest late, drained with the sustained effort, but with lighter hearts at last.
Frodo did indeed wake the next morning and seemed quite miraculously recovered, enough that he could rise and walk around the house, and even attend a great feast that night which was prepared in his honour. Aragorn did not have a chance to see him at the feast, for that evening also bought the return of Elrond’s sons, Elladan and Elrohir, who had scouted the lands along the Bruinen south and west for many miles. Their tidings were troubling but not unexpected; the bodies of three horses they had found drowned within the flood, but no others had they seen and no sign could be scouted of the wraiths. It was unclear what had become of them.
Aragorn had entirely forgotten Gandalf’s strange friend Lith by the morning of Elrond's great council. Aragorn had arrived early at the open porch with Elladan and Elrohir to see the open space set about with a circle of many chairs. Gloin and several other Dwarves were already present as were many Elves, some whom Aragorn recognised and some he did not. Boromir of Gondor was also present, seated close to the door and he looked even less at ease than the Dwarves. Aragorn went to speak with him, hoping to put the man’s mind at rest while they waited for Elrond and all others who had been invited to arrive and for the Council to commence. Boromir seemed relieved to see that other men would be present, and gladly he answered Aragorn’s polite queries about the wellbeing of his father, the Steward. They had only been speaking a few minutes when Aragorn's attention was suddenly drawn by voices to his left. They were not raised, but the quiet words being exchanged were tight with anger and tension. Glorfindel stood in the doorway of the porch, solid and resolute, and before him were two Elves whose green and brown raiment marked them as envoys of Mirkwood. The one closest to Glorfindel was leaning forward, angrily, and Aragorn heard him hiss:
'It is an insult and will not be borne.'
'No insult is intended, and you shall bear it,' Glorfindel answered, sternly, though his voice was still low. 'He is here at the invitation of Elrond, just as you all are, and all who are guests of this house will treat each other with courtesy.'
'Only when such courtesy is warranted. He is Penenith! Ú-dihenan! If our king were to hear of this outrage--'
'Thranduil is not lord here,' Glorfindel said, his voice so soft that Aragorn almost did not hear. 'And none but you and those of his household are beholden to his commands. While you remain within the borders of Lord Elrond’s land you will act in accordance with his will, Luinmeord, and it is Elrond’s will that peace and courtesy extend to all that are guests within these walls. Now I bid you both take your seats. There are more important matters here for us to attend to.'
'There are,' snapped Luinmeord. 'And with this lapse of judgement, lord, I fear that you and Elrond are likely to endanger us all.'
The Wood-elf, Luinmeord, turned on his heel and walked away, his companion beside him. Their backs were stiff and straight with anger and they went straight across the porch to the other three Wood-elves in their party. The five formed a tight huddle and they began to whisper together.
Glorfindel continued onto the porch at a more stately pace and took a seat near Elrond's chair. Aragorn was not entirely surprised when, a few moments later, the figure of Lith slipped in after him through the doorway. There could be no doubt that he was the subject of the argument at the door. The hooded Elf's shabby travelling garb looked even more out of place now amongst the glittering maille of the Dwarves and the velvet and silken majesty of the Elves’ robes, though at least this time he seemed not to be armed and had left his travelling pack behind. Still, Aragorn could not help but wonder why Lith was here; that he was a friend of Gandalf’s must have some relevance, but he was no Elf-lord nor figure of any standing amongst the Wise or he would have been known to Aragorn. And his presence at this council was certainly a point of tension; Aragorn had scarcely ever seen such hostility between Elves, nor heard any speak so to Glorfindel before. Luinmeord had called Lith nameless and unforgiven as if his very presence was a curse. After the commotion at the entrance, which thankfully few others of the guests seemed to have noticed, Lith was clearly trying to draw as little attention as possible and edged around the porch taking a seat in an unobtrusive corner. He seemed oblivious to the dark glances the Mirkwood Elves threw in his direction.
After a few more minutes Elrond arrived with Erestor, and then Gandalf came last with Frodo, Bilbo and Sam in tow. Aragorn was surprised again to see that the old hobbit Bilbo not only noticed Lith in his corner but even gave him a grin and a wave of greeting. The Elf returned the gesture with a flutter of thin fingers but if he smiled back Aragorn did not see it.
Then there was no more time for distractions for Elrond's great council began. It was a long debate and many strange and unsettling events were brought to light. Glóin told of emissaries from Mordor offering rings in friendship, Boromir of war and sieges and prophetic dreams, the sons of Elrond of the mustering of orcs and other beasts in the mountains. In all lands it seemed darkness was gathering. Then the debate turned to the history of the ring, of the Last Alliance and Isildur’s Bane, and thence to Isildur’s heir, and Aragorn was revealed to the company, and to Boromir, as the very same. Bilbo told of how the ring had come to him and at last the conversation turned to Gollum. Aragorn gave his own account of the hunt for the creature and the long months he had endured his vile company, bringing him back over the long leagues from the borders of Mordor itself. But Gollum was safe from other mischief now in the custody of the Elves of Mirkwood, or so Aragorn had thought until Thranduil’s messenger spoke.
'Now the tidings we bear must be told,' said Luinmeord the Wood-elf. 'Our lord sent us to report that the creature Gollum has escaped.'
'Escaped?' Aragorn cried. 'That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?'
'If failure it was, it was not through fault of ours,' snapped Luinmeord. 'For the prisoner had aid from outside and we deem there was some treachery afoot.'
At that, the Mirkwood Elves turned as one and stared across the porch. Aragorn followed their looks and saw that at some point Lith had let his hood fall back and now for the first time his face was visible. He had the fair features of all his race with a countenance that was pale and narrow, with delicate bone structure and soft grey eyes under dark brows. But more immediately apparent than anything else was the vivid scar the Elf bore below his right eye, like two intersecting slashes across the cheekbone. Not even his flaxen hair, which fell wild and unbraided across his face and shoulders, could quite conceal the damage. Lith said nothing in response to the stares of the Wood-elves, and he merely continued to look silently towards Elrond. His back was very straight.
The Mirkwood Elves perhaps realised they would not provoke Lith with their glares for in time Luinmeord continued, describing how Gollum had hidden from his guards in a nearby tree before the Elves were set upon by orcs. When they had defeated the ambush they found the creature had escaped into the forest. It was sore news for Aragorn, who had risked and endured much to capture Gollum, but there was no point now in more recrimination.
Gandalf then told of Saruman’s betrayal, the tale he had relayed to Aragorn days ago but now told the council in full. He described the rescue by Gwaihir, his dismissal by Théoden of the Mark, and of the taming of the Lord of the Mearas on the plains of Rohan.
'Shadowfax they called him,' Gandalf said. 'By day his coat glistens like silver; and by night it is like a shade, and he passes unseen. Light is his footfall! Never before had any man mounted him, but I took him and I tamed him, and so speedily he bore me that I reached the Shire when Frodo was on the Barrow-downs. But I get ahead of myself, for a day after I crossed the ford of Isen with Shadowfax, I first encountered my old friend Lith wandering on the Old South Road.'
Gandalf gestured towards Lith and all eyes turned to the Elf. Lith again said nothing, but now his gaze was turned down at his own hands.
'I was surprised to see him for I thought he had forsaken these lands for Rhûn long ago. "I cannot tarry," I said to him. "For great need lies upon me and I have a desperate errand to fulfil. But if you ever held our friendship dear I would beg you to ride with me now, for I may encounter much peril on the road and the enemy moves against me at every turn. I would welcome your bow and your keen eyes". To my relief he agreed, and Shadowfax bore us both northwards.'
'A strange choice of travel companion, Mithrandir,' put in Erestor. He also was looking at Lith, and Aragorn was surprised to see distaste on his face too. Indeed, of all the Elves, only Elrond and Glorfindel did not look at Lith as if he was something unclean.
At last Lith himself spoke up. His voice was very quiet and his Westron touched with a lilt that sounded distinctly Silvan. Indeed, with his colouring, features and manner of speech he could almost have been kin to Luinmeord, for all that the Mirkwood Elves seemed so clearly to despise him.
'The Enedwaith is not as safe as once it was,' the Elf Lith said, at last. 'I know the lands there well. But Mithrandir will always have my aid, whenever he needs it, for I owe him much, and would repay whenever I can.'
'And it was well he gave it,' Gandalf said, with a touch of sternness towards Erestor. 'For we encountered wolves several times on our journey and were even beset by a band of goblins outside the ruins of Tharbad. But at last we reached Sarn Ford and the Rangers there loaned us a second horse, and we reached Hobbiton by the afternoon of the 29th when Aragorn and the hobbits were travelling from Bree.'
Gandalf went on to tell the rest of the tale. He spoke of how Lith and he had followed the hobbits’ trail from Bag End to Crickhollow. They had closed the gap by using the road to Bree, and thus had inadvertently overtaken Frodo and company when Aragorn had been leading the hobbits through the wilderness of Midgewater. Then Gandalf told that part of the tale Aragorn did not know: how the wizard and Lith had arrived at Weathertop on the night of the third of October and had been besieged there by the Ringwraiths, and that though he had tried to send Lith away to safety before the trap closed, the Elf had refused to go, staying by Gandalf’s side and holding the wraiths back with flaming bolts until his quiver was empty and at last the dawn came.
'Forgive me, Mithrandir,' said Luinmeord, suddenly standing up. Aragorn had seen the Wood-elf growing more and more angry during Gandalf’s tale until at last his voice had burst from him. 'Forgive me. We have held our tongues as Lord Glorfindel bade us, in respect for this house. But I do not see why we must be subject to this...lurid detail. Please just tell of the pertinent matters and let us move on.'
Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows at Luinmeord’s outburst. 'Perhaps I have let my retelling go overlong, Luinmeord, but I promise you these events are of relevance. The Nazgûl are a terrible foe and until you face them yourselves you cannot understand it.'
'We do not question that,' said a second Wood-elf, who also stood. Aragorn thought Elrond had given her name as Almscella, a captain of the Mirkwood Guard. 'And we have nothing but respect for your great deeds, Mithrandir. But it is insult enough that the Penenith must be present here. That you must seek to glorify him is beyond tolerance.' The faces of the Elves were cold and hard, though the Dwarves seemed confused and Frodo utterly bewildered. Bilbo was shaking his head.
'Mithrandir merely seeks to tell the events as they happened.' Elrond spoke up, voice slow and measured. 'I beg you all not to seek insult where none exists. All who oppose the will of Sauron are allies in this war, and we must unite or we will fall.'
'Men, we will gladly treat with,' said Luinmeord. 'Even Dwarves. But not with that.' The Elf pointed at Lith. 'His presence here offends us and endangers the secrecy of this very council. Ú-sador !' he spat again, and Aragorn had seldom heard such venom. The other elves around him began to hiss their own curses at Lith.
'Ristagwaedh!'
'Bodadêldir!'
Lith rose so suddenly to his feet that Aragorn stood too, thinking the Elf might respond to the insults with harsh words of his own, or even with blows, and that someone would have to intervene. But Lith merely turned in silence, walked swiftly across the porch to the doorway, and fled from the council without a backward glance.
There was stunned silence. Elrond shook his head, sadly, but said nothing. No-one went after Lith. The Wood-elves sat down once more with an air of satisfaction and wounded pride. Aragorn was quite appalled by their behaviour.
'That was uncalled for,' he said to Luinmeord.
'Peace,' said Elrond, but the remark was directed to Aragorn, not the unruly Wood-elves.
The hobbits were looking uncomfortable and scandalised, although the Dwarves from Erebor had watched the unfolding drama with a kind of horrified fascination.
'So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves,' muttered Gimli Glóin’s son, a little too loudly.
His father was frowning after Lith’s departing figure, looking oddly thoughtful. 'What was all that about, if I might ask?' Glóin said to Elrond.
Elrond merely waved a hand, dismissively. 'Old history that I had hoped to avoid, Master Glóin. I apologise for the disruption.'
'He is gone now,' said Erestor. 'And it is for the best. The secrets we debate are not for the ears of all, least of all his kind. He had no place here.'
Elrond did not disagree with the statement, even though to Aragorn’s disbelieving ears it sounded like the Master of Imladris was being criticised by his own trusted seneschal.
'While we argue amongst ourselves the enemy laughs at our folly,' was all Elrond would say, moving the conversation briskly on. 'We must put aside our differences and focus on the task in hand. Mithrandir, if perhaps you could continue?'
'I will be brief,' Gandalf said, and Aragorn thought he looked not angry, as he had expected, but perhaps just rather sad. But even Gandalf, who had clearly advocated Lith’s presence here and had done much to give due recognition to his skills and courage, had not defended him as the other Elves had driven him off. Maybe there was more to these events than Aragorn previously supposed.
But now they reached the crux of the debate - what to do with the ring? - and there was no time more to dwell on the strangeness of one Elf. The fate of Middle-earth was in peril, and it was now the time for them to turn their thoughts to the future. What would they do with the enemy’s great prize now it lay so unexpectedly in their hands?
It was afternoon before the council came to a close. Frodo would take the ring to the fires of Mount Doom, and with him would go Sam. Aragorn was all but certain that Gandalf would go with them, as probably would he, for they would follow the road to Gondor for many leagues and thither was Aragorn bound. But nothing further was yet decided about the number or type of companions that should accompany the ring on its journey south. And they dare not leave for some weeks yet, for first they must learn all they could about the movements of the enemy in the lands around.
There was much to do that day. There were routes to plan and supplies to gather, and messages to be sent out. There was little freedom for personal errands, but Aragorn made time to speak with the hobbits and to snatch a precious few hours with the Lady Arwen before he was summoned to see Elrond once more. The Elf-lord wished to discuss the movement of the Elven scouts who would head out east and north. Aragorn himself intended to leave in the morning alongside Elladan and Elrohir, and travel west to enlist the aid of the Rangers and gather news from the north. The brethren would then turn south for a little way, and then eastwards toward Lothlórien, while Aragorn and the Rangers would follow the Bruinen to seek any further sign of the Nazgûl. Elrond approved of the strategy.
When at last all the business was concluded, Aragorn spoke up.
'Elrond, there is something I wish to know.’
Elrond sighed. 'You have questions about what happened during the Council.'
'Aye,' Aragorn agreed. 'I have never seen Elves act thusly before. They could not have looked more disgusted if Gandalf had brought an orc with him to the Council. I found it most disquieting. How could this Elf Lith have earned such ire?'
'It is an uncommon situation, and a sad one, and it is not my tale to tell,' Elrond said. 'But I do not think you will see him again. He has already left the Valley. The Wood-elves insisted.'
Aragorn blinked in surprise. 'Lith has gone? The Wood-elves truly have so much authority?'
'Luinmeord is the child of Caranalder, King Thranduil’s last surviving son, and thus he has much standing,' Elrond said.
'Still, you have never bowed to the whims of Thranduil before,' Aragorn said, dismayed at the very thought. 'This is the Last Homely House, is it not? Why does Lith receive such derision and scorn? Even Erestor and Galdor seemed to despise him while Gandalf clearly holds him in regard, and by his reckoning Lith’s deeds at Weathertop were nothing but praiseworthy.'
'It would have been far better if Mithrandir had never brought him here,' Elrond said, shortly. 'Let alone inviting him to the Council. That wizard can be the worst meddler when he sets his mind to it and does not know when to leave well alone, though as ever I know he acts out of kindness. I do not think that this Elf he has befriended poses any danger or risk to our security, though his presence disrupted the debate, alienated our allies, and almost set all our plans to naught.'
Elrond stood and walked to the window. Aragorn waited in silence, knowing his foster father had more to say. And at last Elrond sighed. 'He is a Bodadêldir, Aragorn. It is a punishment not practised amongst the Ñoldor for more than an Age.'
'One who is...unwelcome?' Aragorn translated. He was not conversant in the Silvan tongues, but much of the vocabulary was similar enough to Sindarin to be understandable.
'Say more a ‘hated exile’,' Elrond said. 'An Elf stripped of his name and his identity and turned out into the wild. He is as one dead to those who knew him, and he is forbidden to enter any Elven settlement, homestead or lands henceforth, or to seek aid or companionship from any Elf he may meet in other lands. Worse than all, no Elven ship may ever be permitted to bear him hence from these shores.'
Aragorn stared almost in disbelief. Such a punishment. To be cast out, shunned by his own kind for all time and even forbidden from leaving the confines of Middle-earth for Valinor, damned to an undying eternity of isolation. The concept was almost unthinkable.
Aragorn thought back to the quiet figure he had seen at the Council who had only stared at his hands in silence as insults were thrown at him so viciously. 'What could he have done that possibly warrants such extreme exile?'
'Of that, I am not permitted to speak,' Elrond said, but Aragorn's mind was already turning.
'They called him Faithless,' Aragorn said. 'Oathbreaker.'
Elrond just watched, silently, and then finally it dawned on Aragorn, the one crime that was unforgivable among the Eldar beyond all others.
'He is a Kinslayer.'
Elrond sighed. 'Yes. Or he attempted the act, at least.'
Lith had killed another Elf. He had taken the life of another of the Eldar.
'And you let him stay here in Rivendell?'
Elrond gave a laugh though there was no humour in it. 'Have a care, Aragorn; you are in danger of seeming hypocritical. Yes, I let him enter our borders with Gandalf and I permitted him to stay, for a while. I sense no evil in him, and as you so eloquently reminded me, I am not beholden to Silvan law, though by tradition and treaty all of the Eldar shun the Bodadêldir and they are exiles from all Elven lands. But I knew something of the Elf he was before he was cast out and I mourn for him, for he was no murderer. I know not the events which caused his exile. None do. But I fear in my heart that something terrible happened, perhaps even the cruellest of injustices. But there is no turning back, however I wish it, and to let him stay here longer would incite a terrible retribution when we need most our combined strength. I cannot risk the future of this world for one Elf. He is gone now, for better or worse. Now, you must go too, and prepare, for tomorrow, Aragorn, your journeys begin anew.'