“So what did they say at the secret council?” Pippin asked.  

“Oh, we heard all about the history of the Ring and how the Dark Lord made it and Isildur claimed it and then it was lost and yada yada yada, now we’ve got to take it to Mount Doom and destroy it,” Frodo said as he lit his pipe.  

“Yada yada yada?” Legolas asked with consternation. “I do not recall anyone saying that.”  

“Sounded about right to me,” Bilbo said. “Pippin-lad, hand me those crumpets.”  

“Did Gandalf explain why he didn’t meet us?” Merry asked. “I tried to get it out of him earlier, but he said he owed his explanation first to Frodo.”  

“Evil wizard, prison tower, saved by Eagles, blah blah blah,” Frodo said, and Merry nodded.  

“Well, then, that’s all right, isn’t it?” he said and Frodo readily agreed, “Quite.”  

Legolas’ eyebrows drew together in distress. “Blah blah blah?” he queried.  

Bilbo snorted. “And then some,” he said. “These immortals, never thinking of an old hobbit’s stomach. Peregrin, now those plums. No, they aren’t all for you, give them here.”  

“Yada yada yada and blah blah blah?” Legolas said, a little louder. “This is how you summarize the Council of Elrond? The most important council of our Age? During which the fate of this Middle-earth has been placed in your hands, Frodo Baggins of the Shire?”  

Frodo looked at him curiously, but before he could answer, the door opened and Gandalf strode in. “Ah, Master Bilbo is finally having his lunch attended to, I see,” he said, and then placed a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “I came by because I had promised young Merry some answers once you had heard the tale in full, though I suppose you have filled him in by now?”  

“Wizard, tower, Eagles,” Merry said, and waved his hand in a continuing gesture.  

“Yes, yes, then Bree and Butterbur, that confounded fool, on to Weathertop, yada yada yada, and here we all are all safe at Rivendell,” Gandalf replied. “Has Frodo had time to share with you the Council’s decision?”  

“Dark Lord, Ring, fiery mountain, long trip,” Merry said, and Pippin mournfully added, “No inns on the way.”  

“No, no, my lad, no inns, I’m afraid,” Gandalf said kindly. “Well, that brings us all up to date, doesn’t it? And it’s only been, what? A quarter hour since the Council ended.”  

“Elves,” Bilbo muttered around a mouthful of tart, and Legolas made a slight noise of distress.  

“Indeed,” Gandalf said, “though I must admit, I was a bit long-winded myself. Elrond always feels slighted if one does not include every detail, though. And he loves to remember the earlier Ages, the Last Alliance, and the battle on Gorgoroth, and the glory of new kingdom of Men, blah blah blah, you know how it goes. Goodness me, what is wrong with Legolas?”  

“He’s fallen out of his chair,” Pippin observed. “That happens to me sometimes too.”  

“Well,” Gandalf said, “I’ll leave the lot of you to attend to him. I hope he doesn’t prove too excitable -- Elrond is considering him for the Fellowship. It wouldn’t do to bring someone along who is falling over all the time.”  

“Best leave Frodo behind then,” Merry muttered, and then yelped as Sam kicked him under the table.

Gandalf’s lips twitched, and then he bowed deep to the hobbits. “My good hobbits,” he said in farewell, and then pulled the door shut behind him.