Chapter Text
“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,” Elrond said as he stood from the throne, facing an unlikely group of Elves, Dwarves, and Men.
Way to start out, keeping hope alive and all , the girl perched precariously above the meeting thought.
She lay flat on a particularly thick branch of a tree that sat directly above Elrond himself. The leaves around her were slowly turning a bright yellow. A few leaves had already turned past yellow and now were slowly muddying with brown. These leaves floated through the air, showing their audience a final dance before they succumbed to their end. The only reason the keen senses of the Elves didn’t detect her must have been due to the constant leaf fall. That, or the comforting knowledge that no one would be reckless enough to climb a sacred tree to spy on a secret meeting.
Well, Tinunil was reckless enough. Her curiosity had peaked and there was no way she would miss a secret meeting of representatives of the main factions of Endóre. She didn’t know what the meeting was for, but she knew it was important. And if it was important, she was going to be there.
Elrond continued, inviting a small person to stand and place something on the table in the center.
A halfling, she would guess. He looked enough like Bilbo, with his large hairy feet and tight curls, for her to assume that her guess was right.
As she stared down at him through a break in the leaves, a piece of dirty blonde hair fell into her face, almost making her sneeze. Now that would be a good way to get caught , she thought as she tucked her hair back behind her rounded ears. Serves me right for staying up so late into the night reading.
Tinunil had woken up so late that morning that she barely had time to get dressed, let alone work her hair through the intricate braids the Elves loved so dearly. They would have spent at least an hour on their hair for such an important meeting. But for her, a messy braid down her back had to do. Except, now it was falling out.
Ignoring the increasingly falling apart braid, she continued her listening to the council as quietly as she could.
The halfling had just placed something on the table and was backing away. Tinunil stretched out her neck to see what he had placed, and gasped out loud.
It was the Ring.
She knew it. There was no other Ring that could possibly be important enough to gather Men, Dwarves, and Elves together in one place. Tinunil had grown up hearing discussions between Mithrandir, Elrond, and Estel about the possibility of such a ring. About the power it contained. Every child growing up among elves had heard the poem from long ago, told almost as a bedtime story.
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
The Ring had power to destroy everything. People, countries, worlds, it didn’t matter to the greed of it and its master, Sauron. A chill ran up her back as she thought about how much evil now sat in the middle of the group.
But yet, it seemed so innocuous. It was a pretty thing, even from the view up in the tree. It glinted in the sunlight almost like it was basking in it. And there was a pull. It was subtle but there. A small feeling in the back of her mind to climb down the tree and take it for herself.
Tinunil scoffed at herself. She thought she had grown past being intrigued by shiny things, but apparently not. She tried to forget the feeling as she returned her attention to the council.
A Man with auburn hair stood and approached the Ring. His hair was shorter than the Elves around him, as was custom for Men, but what stood out to her was how dirty it was. Elves prided themselves on cleanliness, and she was surprised he wouldn’t at least bathe before such an important meeting.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one in a rush this morning , she thought.
He was tall and broad, broader than any Elf she had seen. Young as well, maybe only a few years older than herself from the look of it.
That was surprising. Usually Men sent older authority figures to these kinds of things. She tried to make out where he hailed from by looking at the style of his clothes. Rohan seemed the most likely option in her mind. She cursed herself for not paying more attention in her lessons.
As he continued, everyone in the circle grew more and more tense.
“In the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, your doom is near at hand. Isildur's bane is found. Isildur's Bane…” the auburn-haired Man spoke.
Suddenly, Mithrandir stood and started speaking in Black Speech, causing the area to darken and the ground to shake. The ground, and the branch she was perched on. Holding on to the branch so as to not be thrown off, she struggled to not make any noises. More leaves tumbled toward the ground, and everyone sitting below held onto their chairs to avoid being jumbled with them.
Just as quickly as the Black Speech came, it stopped. With the end of Mithrandir’s words, light returned and the shaking ceased. While Tinunil had succeeded in holding onto the branch during the mini earthquake, her braid had not fared so well.
Of course it would be a Man who would cause Mithrandir to speak such horrible words , she thought while trying to pick a leaf out of her hair and braid it back again.
The Man had sat down, looking surprised but not at all sheepish. Mithrandir started speaking again, but before she could settle and really listen to what he was saying, she noticed a pair of sparkling blue eyes watching her from the circle. Legolas had spotted her from his spot in the council.
“ Damn it ,” Tinunil muttered under her breath, shooting him a begging stare—laced with a thin layer of desperation—to not let anyone else know she was there. Hopefully he understood the plea.
As kind and thoughtful as he was, he tended to be a little thick in regards to subtlety.
Noticing her glare, Legolas looked down from the tree. She followed his eyes to a chair across from him in the circle.
Double damn it , she thought.
The blond Elf was looking directly at Estel.
Oh, I am in trouble now , she thought as she watched Estel shift in his seat and nod, but not look up to her. Once Legolas made eye contact with her again, she tried her best to shoot daggers towards him.
He seemed to miss the message, once again.
Before he could again focus on what was being said in the council, she stuck her tongue out at him, causing him to huff with poorly quieted laughter. He quickly covered it with a cough.
The Man was speaking again, loudly this time. Demanding that he be able to use the ring. “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.”
Oh, I should have guessed that he was from Gondor, and a nobleman at that. That is why I can smell his entitlement from up here. Estel wouldn’t be happy that I couldn’t recognize his own people’s clothing style, though , Tinunil thought, mind wandering from the confines of this council.
Loud words pulled her from her thoughts once again. The Man from Gondor was now verbally attacking Estel. And Legolas looked like he was about to pull a bow from behind his back and shoot him for talking so spitefully to Estel.
She knew that Legolas considered Estel his dear friend. She also knew that Legolas would go to any length to defend those he loved.
If this didn’t get stopped quickly, there would be blood on the stones today. Estel would have to work fast to contain the damage that could be done here.
The ever loyal Legolas appeared to be very done with the argument from the Gondor man. With one look towards Estel, he declared to the whole council that Estel was the true king of Gondor, obviously hoping to settle the argument there with this news.
Oh, not good, not good, not good , she thought to herself.
Estel stood and told Legolas to stand down. Which, to his credit, he did quickly.
It was then when the Man said, “Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King.” He sat as he stared daggers at Estel. He clearly had intent to show that there was no good will between the two.
Maybe Legolas was right for wanting to shoot him right there, she thought. This Man is an enemy to victory and to peace.
After this sparring match, the council continued its discussion. They talked about how to destroy the Ring. A Dwarf even tried to destroy the thing and ended up breaking his ax in the process. Eventually, the peace of the council seemed to wear off and arguing continued in the circle. Everyone returned to their previous allegiances and preconceived notions in a heartbeat.
At this point, Estel rose from his seat and stood near the trunk of the tree where she currently hid. He avoided any of the yelling and watched the arguing for a few moments before whispering, “Time to come down now, Tinunil.”
His eyes turned upward as Tinunil slowly climbed down from the branch she perched upon, obviously trying to not fall and make more of a fool of herself. No one seemed to notice the girl descending the tree. They were too busy yelling at each other.
“Now what are you doing in a secret council that you were not invited to?” he asked, the emphasis on not making her know that she was in big trouble.
“Well, Háno , if you must know, Legolas let it slip to me yesterday that there was a big meeting happening today that he was a part of. I was able to get the time and place out of him so that I could hide in the tree beforehand.” She smirked up at him. “That’s the problem with Elves—they always think that if something is disrespectful and wild, no one would think to do it. I thought you would have learned that I would do those things by now, at least,” Tinunil said, very pleased with herself.
“Oh, I knew you were going to be here before Legolas let it slip. Who do you think told him to tell you about this oh so secret meeting?”
“So you meant to have me here?” Tinunil gasped, looking at him in shock. “Elrond is going to have your head, right after he has mine.”
“ Nethig , I knew you would come here either way. I just wanted to make sure I knew where you were.”
Suddenly, amid the shouting of the Men, Elves, and Dwarfs, a small voice was heard above the arguing, “I will take it. I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though, I do not know the way.”
Slowly, everyone turned to look at the young halfling. Mithrandir spoke first, “I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”
Estel stood next, Tinunil quickly behind him. “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.”
“And mine.” Tinunil said quickly, dodging a look from both Estel, Mithrandir, and Elrond as she stared into the face of the halfling. “I offer anything that I can give to help you on this quest.”
Next Legolas, followed closely by the Dwarf who tried to break the ring earlier, much to Legolas’s chagrin.
“And you have my bow.”
“And my ax!”
To what appeared to be both Legolas and Tinunil’s horror, the auburn haired son of the Steward of Gondor stood, “You carry the fate of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.”
Out of nowhere, three other halflings appeared, charging towards the now ringbearer. Their curls bounced as they almost tripped across the gathering, each shouting about not leaving Frodo and coming along.
Elrond looked exasperated at the now four uninvited members of the council that was oh so secret. He glanced around the council, looking to see if anyone else would offer their assistance.
Finally, he spoke, “Ten companions... So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!”
“Right, where are we going?” asked the shortest of the new halflings.
A quick laugh was shared between the Fellowship as each one looked down at the lost, but plucky, halfling. They each then turned to study the companions that have decided to join each other on the journey. The people that will travel with, and most probably fight with, for the next foreseeable future. All in an attempt to help a halfling, a small and rather insignificant member of the council, destroy one of the most evil things in the world. And, hopefully, save that world in the process.
–
After the council broke up to attend to their own duties and prepare for the journey, Estel quickly grabbed Tinunil’s arm and pulled her through a side hallway.
“Ah, careful, ope! Hey, that hurts!” Tinunil grumbled as he pulled her to a stop. She stared at him with her grumpiest expression, one that could usually pull a smile from him anytime.
This time was different.
“Tinunil, what were you thinking back there? You can’t come with the Fellowship,” Estel said. His face wore a look of concern.
“Elrond let me! No one stopped me when I volunteered! I want to help. I can be helpful. I want to travel with you and see the world you were exploring while I was growing up,” Tinunil whined back.
“This is not some sightseeing trip. It will be dangerous, even deadly. You cannot join us just so I can see… see you die!” Though the sentence started with a whisper, the ending came out loud and harsh.
Tinunil’s voice rose to meet it, “I will not just turn over and die the moment something dangerous meets us. You trained me yourself to fight, along with the other warriors of Imladris . The halflings are coming, and they are practically children! And, need I say, a Man who I could take in battle easily. I know you know I can do this.” She looked into Estel’s eyes, pleading with him to see it as she did.
What he did next was unexpected.
“Tinunil,” he sighed. “It isn’t because I don’t trust you with a sword. But you haven’t had to fight in a real battle yet. You are unproven, unseasoned, and unpredictable. Please, listen to me. I need you to survive this. You have such short years to live anyway…” He trailed off as he realized his mistake. Tinunil looked back at him with betrayal and pain in her eyes.
“You don’t want me to go because I am Human? Because I am so fragile that I may just disappear in the wind?” Tears choked her throat but she refused to let them fall. Humans wore their emotions on their sleeves, not like the Elves. Crying right now would only cement in the idea that she was fragile and weak.
“That because I will die in less than a hundred years I am lesser and not worthy to help the world and seek adventure? Well, Aragorn—”
She paused. This time it was his turn to have hurt and betrayal in his eyes.
The use of his human name dug into Estel. They rarely called each other anything besides Nethig and Háno —sister and big brother. They only referred to each other’s elven names when they were cross with each other or had to be more formal. Though they both knew they were humans raised among Elves, they liked to pretend there wasn’t anything different between them and the ones they called family. A silent understanding that they were the only ones who thought of mortality among beings who were timeless. A silent agreement to not let the differences change anything between them.
Tinunil had crossed a line, and she was about to go further than she ever had before.
“—have you forgotten that you are also Human?” she hissed. “The King of Gondor is no more than a Man. But, you probably heard this last night, didn’t you? Because you know who can’t forget that your timeline is just as short as mine is? Arwen. My mortality is a reminder to you that either you will be nothing but a blip in her life, or that she will have to give up her immortality for you. And you can’t handle that reminder.” Tinunil looked up into his face, tears burning behind her eyes. “Is that all you see when you look at me?”
She turned on her heel before she could see the consequences of her words.
Another difference between her and the beautiful Elves that she grew up around. They would always think through their words. Carefully weighing each action and consequence.
When Tinunil got angry, she fought first and thought later.
As she tried to escape, Estel called out to her. She refused to stop and ran around the corner as fast as she could.
As soon as she rounded the corner, she hit hard into a wall. A wall that hadn’t been there her entire childhood. She looked up, surprised.
Only to realize that she hadn’t run into a wall, but a person.
“ Goheno nin ,” she started apologizing before she realized that it was a Man who stood before her.
Not an Elf. And not just any Man.
The son of the Steward of Gondor himself.
She quickly backed away, straightening her dress. “Oh. Um, sorry. For running into you,” she stammered, wanting nothing else more to be able to leave and avoid this whole conversation. She wanted to find Legolas, he would console her. Not make her feel worse.
Boromir also looked like he was trying to avoid this situation. His face had flushed red when she ran into him, also making mumbled apologies.
That was when Aragorn came racing around the corner after Tinunil, almost smacking into both of them. Now the situation had become even more unbearable.
The tension between the son of the Steward and the Heir of Gondor was like ice. The stares between the two were calculating, like a predator eyeing a potential threat. This was in stark contrast to the feeling between the gazes of the siblings, which was almost smoking. The fire between their stares burned almost as much as their words to each other had.
Tinunil wondered which would happen first, the freezing of her and Estel’s argument or the thawing of Estel and Boromir’s. For in this standoff, one would not survive the other.
Estel spoke first, ever the gentleman, “Boromir, this is my sister and charge of Elrond, Tinunil. Tinunil, this is Boromir, the son of the Steward of Gondor.”
Boromir awkwardly raised his hand to meet hers in a handshake, a distinctly human thing to do.
Tinunil decided at that moment that she wasn’t done being angry at Estel, and she was ready for the fire in her heart to rage. “Call me Aesa, Son of the Steward, for it is my human name and I am merely a human surrounded by immortal grace and beauty.” After saying the words, she glared daggers at Estel, making sure that he understood her message.
Boromir, on the other hand, was quite confused and didn’t quite know how to respond. Glancing back toward Estel as if seeking permission, he shook her hand. “Well Tin—er, Aesa, call me Boromir, for I only have a human name.” He paused, looking uncertain. “I am sorry for running into you as well. And for eavesdropping. I wasn’t trying to but you both definitely know how to let the whole of Rivendell know what is going on between the two of you.”
Boromir coughed awkwardly as the two siblings stared him down. A flush had risen up Tinunil’s neck and creeped into her face as he spoke. Estel looked unbothered by the observation.
“If it is any help, I do think that Aragorn is right,” Boromir continued, still sheepish though slowly gaining confidence with each word. “This journey will be challenging to the most seasoned warrior. If you are not used to hard riding and battles, it will only slow us down. It is of utmost importance for this mission to not fail. We can’t have anything, or anyone , jeopardize it.”
Both Estel and Tinunil looked at Boromir in shock. How could a Man just give his opinion like that, with no context or understanding?
“Thank you, Bor—” Estel started.
“I’ll have you—” Tinunil fummed.
Both had started speaking over each other in response to Bormomir’s advice. Both looked at each other, trying to convey their thoughts without speaking.
Tinunil bullied her way into speaking first, as usual. “Boromir, stick your head between your ass, for that is where it belongs after saying a thing like that.”
“Tinunil!” Estel said sharply. “Remember your manners!”
“Oh, yes, I am sorry. Son of the Steward, kindly stick your head between your ass.” And with that, she curtsied and turned toward another corridor to leave the baffled pair of Men behind her. As she ran she heard the muffled apologies of Estel and the sound of Boromir’s deep voice responding.
–
Tinunil ran fast up the stairs, skipping two at a time to avoid the shame and impact that her outburst had caused. Boromir was going to kill her. Estel was going to kill her. Elrond was going to kill her.
She thought about how they might decide who would get the killing blow. Maybe they would pull sticks, or debate who was wronged the most. They each had a pretty good case going into it.
And at that moment, she ran into the second person of the day. This time, they were not a wall but rather bounceed backward from her force.
“Oooomph! Oh, dear… Oh, my girl, where are you running off to so quickly? And what are those tears for! You should be triumphantly celebrating joining the Fellowship!” Bilbo said as he pulled himself off the ground with her help.
Tinunil hadn’t realized that the tears she was fighting to keep back had won during her escape up the stairs. She quickly tried to staunch the flow of water to no avail.
Bilbo, the halfling, had stayed as a guest in the House of Elrond and had become a dear friend of both Estel and Tinunil. He pulled her to a bench and sat down next to her, rubbing her hand comfortingly and she sobbed next to him.
“Estel doesn’t want me to go with the Fellowship,” she snuffed, “so I said terrible things to him. And then Boromir showed up, and I insulted him well enough that I do think he will insist on a duel for his honor the next time he sees me.”
“Now, Tinunil, Estel will not hold whatever you said against him. He cannot stay mad at you for longer than an hour and you know this. Remember when your prank to spill wine on an Elf from Mirkwood ended up on his favorite tunic? He forgave you instantly and even brought you cake to your room after it all,” Bilbo said as he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “And Boromir would do no such thing here. Anyone who laid a hand on you would face the wrath of Elrond, and no one would risk that. Now, what did Estel say to you that was so terrible?”
With that reassurance, Tinunil recounted the conversation of her and Estel and then Boromir to Bilbo.
After she finished explaining, Bilbo laughed at the way she had ended the conversation. “Now the curtsey was a nice touch. Very worth the thrashing you’ll get from Elrond. Oh, how I wish that you had stayed to see his face! I doubt anyone has ever spoken to him like that.”
Tinunil groaned and put her head in her hands. Her tears had finally subsided as she told the story. She was only left with a slight headache and a soggy handkerchief.
That was when Bilbo started on his wisdom. “You do know that Estel isn’t worried about you being fragile, right?”
Tinunil nodded, she knew that it wasn’t for lack of skill that he was challenging her on this issue.
“He loves you so dearly that I think the idea of you getting hurt is the only thing he is truly scared of. This will be a dangerous journey and he won’t be able to protect you like he has your whole life. And that, I can imagine, is terrifying to him,” Bilbo said.
“Estel scared? That can’t be true. He’s never scared of anything. Not Mirkwood spiders or even Elrond when he is cross,” she giggled.
“I think he is scared of few things,” he mused, “but losing you has to be one of the biggest, my girl. Now, Boromir stuck his nose into something he shouldn’t have, but that reminds me of one of my dearest friends…” Bilbo stared off for a moment, as if lost in memory.
Then he began again.
“When I went on my journey to the Lonely Mountain, the Dwarves were unsure of my abilities at best. While I had Gandalf to vouch for me and my skills, they didn’t know many Hobbits. Because I was different from them they questioned my ability to do what was needed. But, slowly I was able to bring them around to see that my differences were strengths. Thorin didn’t need another Dwarf to sneak, he needed a halfling burglar! Give Boromir time. People in power tend to fear failure so much that they hold tightly to whatever preconceived notions they have. It takes time for them to realize that loosening their grip will help them more than tightening it. He will come around when he sees how important you are to this mission.”
Tinunil took Bilbo’s hand in hers and looked at the halfling. She had grown closer to him than she thought she would have when he first arrived at Imladris. She had heard the stories before of his adventure with Thorin Oakenshield and the Dwarves that accompanied him, but she had never thought about what a halfling might feel being the only one that wasn’t a Dwarf.
“Bilbo, do you ever feel out of place among the Elves? Like you are too much to truly belong? You left the Shire to spend your last years with them,” Tinunil asked.
Bilbo hummed to himself for a second before answering.
“The Elves are elegant and thoughtful. They think through their actions and through their emotions almost to a fault. Sometimes I feel too big to be here, even being a hobbit!” he chuckled. “Rivendell has become my home during these years, Tinunil. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I found on my adventure that it matters more who you are than where you are. And here, I feel more like myself than anywhere else. Do you understand?”
“I think I am beginning to,” Tinunil said as they both stood.
They bid each other a good night, for the journey's preparations began the next day. Tinunil knew that she couldn’t be late to this adventure.
Her entire future depended on it.