Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Fiondil's Tapestry  by Fiondil

DECEPTIONS: The Last Council of the Wise

SUMMARY: At what would be the final meeting of the White Council, all is not as it seems. Takes place in T.A. 2953.

NOTE: The germ of this story is taken from two sources: The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 2, ‘The Council of Elrond’ and The Silmarillion, ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’. Some of the dialogue, particularly what is said by Curunír, Mithrandir and Elrond, is taken directly from these sources, though not necessarily in the same context as originally written.

MEFA 2009: Second Place: Elrond and His Family (Character Study)

****

They met in Imladris this time, much to Curunír’s annoyance, though he hid his displeasure behind a façade of cool disdain. He detested traveling, which is why he had finally claimed Isengard as his own. He would have preferred the White Council to have met there, though in retrospect, it was perhaps better that they hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he could have kept the presence of the palantír he had found a secret from the others.

He looked about at the gathering. They were seated in the portico where all council meetings were held in Imladris. There was Elrond Peredhel in his usual chair flanked by Glorfindel and Erestor as his chief councillors. Curunír frowned. He had never cared for either of Elrond’s councillors. Erestor he dismissed out of hand as unimportant, though he noticed the others treated the half-breed Noldo with respect, a respect that was no doubt as feigned as his was, for no one wanted to get on Elrond’s bad side. Glorfindel was another matter entirely and the ithron smiled to himself at memories of a time in Aman when the former Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin had been a troublesome Reborn. He was glad that he’d had nothing to do with the ellon, though Olórin had.

At the thought of his fellow ithron and Maia, Curunír forced himself not to openly sneer. Mithrandir, the Elves called him, though he was more widely known as Gandalf. Whatever he bothered to call himself, he was a definite thorn in Curunír’s side. He had never forgiven Galadriel for trying to get Olórin chosen as head of the White Council. He was, after all, the White and head of their Order. The thought of Olórin as their leader was ludicrous. Might as well have that simpleton Radagast lead them and be done with it.

At the thought of the other member of their Order, Curunír glanced to where the Brown sat between Círdan and Thranduil, chatting amiably with them as they waited for the council to begin. Aiwendil he had been called in Aman, Yavanna’s pet. Curunír had little use for Mithrandir, but he had even less for the half-witted bird-tamer. It amused him to remember how the silly fool had unwittingly lent him aid when he set a watch on the Gladden Fields. Radagast had in all innocence allowed him the services of many birds to act as spies, believing it was but part of the watch upon the Enemy. Curunír chuckled at the thought of how he had used those spies for his own purposes with his fellow ithron none the wiser.

His steel-grey eyes continued to roam around the portico. Thranduil he knew little of, save that he was rather belligerent and in the habit of contradicting everything everyone said, most likely just on general principles. Of the four elven rulers, the king of the beleaguered Woodland Realm was the only one never to have possessed a Ring of Power. Curunír knew that Ereinion Gil-galad had been given one and he was rather certain that the last High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth had passed it on to Elrond. There was no doubt in his mind that Galadriel, as Celebrimbor’s cousin, received one of them, but the third remained hidden from him. He would have guessed the Shipwright to have possessed it, seeing how close he and Ereinion had been, but he could detect no aura of power about the Teler lord, perhaps the oldest Elf to still abide east of Belegaer, other than that natural to him.

Then there were the two he detested the most: Galadriel and her spineless mate, Celeborn. While they pretended that Celeborn held the rule of Lothlórien, all knew for a fact that it was Galadriel, his scheming Noldorin wife, who truly was the power in that fair enclave. At least, that was the way he saw it. Artanis. She had been a schemer from the very first, desiring a realm of her own to rule as she pleased. When Gil-galad had founded Lindon it must have galled her to have to bow to her nephew Orodreth’s get rather than be able to claim the High Queenship for herself, but the Noldor did not allow their females that much power, which proved that they weren’t as stupid as everyone tended to make them out to be.

Curunír smiled to himself as he contemplated the golden-haired daughter of Finarfin, as they called Arafinwë here. She gave him a cool stare when she felt his eyes upon her and he shifted his gaze elsewhere, not wishing to confront her at this time. He did not see Celeborn frown in his direction before turning his attention to Lord Glorfindel who was asking him about patrol tactics used by Lothlórien marchwardens.

There were two others here — Gildor Inglorion was seated on the other side of Círdan. As Lord of the Wandering Companies, Gildor did not often bother to attend Council meetings but Curunír had to assume that Elrond persuaded him to attend this one. The Noldo was an enigma to the White Wizard. A member of the vaunted House of Finrod, yet a vagabond. It made no sense, but he held power of his own and was highly respected by the others of the Council for his wisdom. It was known that he and his people gathered the news of all the lands in which they roamed and passed it on to those in need of whatever intelligence was garnered. Or rather, passed it on to certain people, such as Elrond and Mithrandir. None had bothered to seek him out with news, much to his annoyance. He had had to employ his own spies for that.

Then there was Thranduil’s youngest son, Legolas, if the ithron remembered correctly, seated between his adar and Celeborn. He was only a few years past his first millennium. The ellon was a complete unknown to Curunír. In fact, this was his first appearance at any meeting of the White Council and he looked a bit out of his depth. Thranduil had told them when the two had arrived the day before that he had decided to expand his son’s education and Legolas was there merely as a spectator, nothing more. The young Elf was wide-eyed with wonder at the sight of them all gathered together and the ithron had to stifle an urge to snicker at the ellon’s expression.

Then, Elrond, acting as host even though Curunír was the acknowledged head of the Council, called them to order and the White Wizard dismissed Thranduilion from his mind and from his calculations.

"We are gathered here, in this darkening hour, to discuss the One Ring," Elrond began after giving them the obligatory welcoming speech. "Too long have we ignored Its fate, but now that it is known that the Enemy is once again rising, it behooves us to rethink our strategies and devise plans for thwarting Sauron. I have no doubt he hunts for the Ring even now."

"The One Ring is gone," Curunír said firmly, deciding to put a stop to any discussion about it at the beginning. Not that he believed what he was saying. He suspected that the Ring was at the bottom of the Anduin, somewhere near the Gladden Fields where Isildur met his doom.

"How can you be so sure?" Círdan asked mildly. "Just because there has been no trace does not mean the Ring isn’t lying around somewhere to be found."

"Better to search fruitlessly for It than not," Celeborn said. "I would hate to learn that the Enemy found It while we were sitting around doing nothing, as usual."

"As usual?" Thranduil snorted. "Did we not drive him from Dol Guldur? I don’t call that ‘doing nothing’".

"Yet," Mithrandir replied, "Orodruin is active again and the towers of Barad-dûr rise above the Plain of Gorgoroth. Sauron’s retreat from Dol Guldur was a feint, nothing more. It was meant to lull us into a false sense of security. Lord Elrond is correct. We need to discover the fate of the One Ring."

"We know that Sauron has been actively searching for the Ring," Galadriel said softly. "Our scouts watched his servants hunt along the Anduin near the Gladden Fields, though they have not been seen of late." She smiled somewhat smugly. "We of Lórien made it clear that such encroachments upon our borders would not be tolerated."

Several of them nodded, and many wore expressions of grim satisfaction, for all knew the fierceness of the Lórien marchwardens. There was no doubt in any of their minds that such messages as were given to Sauron’s spies were at the end of an arrow.

Thranduil gave her a fierce grin. "Considering that the Gladden Fields are nowhere near your borders, that’s saying much."

Galadriel merely smiled, nodding her head in acknowledgment of the Elvenking’s words. They had little liking for each other, for Thranduil had little love for any of the Noldor and had been shocked that his kinsman would stoop so low as to marry one, but they were both Elves and had an abiding hatred for the Enemy and his spies. In this one thing, at least, they were allies.

"Perhaps he has given up the search," Gildor suggested but Círdan shook his head.

"Nay," he said. "The Enemy does not give up, he merely changes tactics." He turned to Elrond. "Are we even sure that Isildur fell at the Gladden Fields? Mayhap he was able to swim further afield before he was betrayed unto death. The Ring may lie elsewhere in the Anduin."

Elrond shook his head. "The three who survived the attack and came at last to Imladris claimed that Isildur died in the Gladden Fields. If the Ring is to be found, it will be found there."

"Why have none but the Enemy’s spies searched for it then, if we know where it lies?" Legolas asked, forgetting that he was not an official part of the Council.

All eyes turned to look at him and Curunír openly sneered at the young ellon’s expression of bafflement and embarrassment as he realized what he had done. Thranduil scowled. "Legolas, have you learned nothing...."

"Nay," Elrond interrupted with a raised hand, giving Legolas a warm smile. "It is a fair question, Thranduil, and one that should be answered, for I deem others here also wonder." He paused for a moment, his grey eyes darkening in memory. "I was there when Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand...."

"As was I," Círdan added softly and Elrond gave him a nod of acknowledgment before continuing his narrative.

"Isildur took the Ring." He paused again and sighed, his expression one of deep sadness, for he had loved the fiery son of Elendil and had seen much of his own brother in the Mortal. "Círdan and I attempted to persuade him to destroy the Ring, to cast it into the fires of Orodruin, but he would not. He claimed it for himself as a wergild for his father and brother."

"Wh-why didn’t you force him to destroy the Ring?" the young elf asked hesitantly, stealing a glance at his father whose expression remained stonily impassive.

Elrond gave the ellon a sad smile. "Doing so would have destroyed Isildur’s mind and I dared not touch the Ring, for I could sense Its malevolence and Its thirst for revenge."

"Revenge?" Gildor asked, his expression one of disbelief.

It was Círdan who answered. "Yes, revenge. I, too, could sense the evil of the Ring. The Ring seemed to be possessed of a certain degree of... intelligence, for lack of a better word, a kind of knowing or awareness and It was aware that Its master had been, if not utterly defeated, at least made impotent for a time and It craved revenge for what Isildur did." He turned to Elrond, his expression solemn. "I have thought about that day over the long years and I am convinced that even at that moment It was plotting Its revenge on Isildur and so exerted Its will upon him."

"I agree," Elrond replied. "There, at the place of Its making, Its will was strongest. I fear that Isildur had no chance against It." He sighed again, then looked up at Legolas and smiled. "But we have not yet fully answered your question, Thranduilion. And the answer is this: None of us here are willing to face the power of the Ring and Its malevolence. Sauron poured much of his own Self into the Ring and as such any who handle It may be corrupted by It, even one of the Firstborn."

"The Ring fell into the Anduin," Glorfindel spoke for the first time. "It may still be there, but even I who walked among the Maiar while I abided in Aman and learned much that they were willing to teach me will not venture to look for it. I deem even the act of searching for the Enemy’s trinket a dangerous thing."

"Trinket, you call It, Lord Glorfindel?" Mithrandir asked in an amused tone. "Well, perhaps It can be called that by some, but it is not wise to belittle the tools of the Enemy. Trivializing It diminishes neither Its power nor Its threat."

Glorfindel nodded to the ithron, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I stand corrected," he said genially.

Curunír decided it was time to take control of the discussion. Was he not, after all, the head of the Council? "All this talk of searching and finding is to no avail," he said coldly, "for I believe not that the Ring will be found again in Middle-earth."

"Yet, as long as the Ring exists somewhere in Arda, then Sauron cannot be fully destroyed," Mithrandir said. "Even now he rises in power again and we needs must tighten our own guard against him."

"Should we not have summoned the Gondorians, then?" Radagast asked mildly. "When the Enemy decides to go to war against the West, Minas Tirith will bear the brunt of the attack. I would think they would want to have someone attend this Council and put forth Gondor’s views on the subject."

Elrond shook his head. "Turgon is dead and Ecthelion has only just ascended to the Steward’s Chair. I received no reply from him and must assume he is too busy consolidating his power to bother."

"A pity," the Brown Wizard said. "A Mortal viewpoint might have been... enlightening."

"Never have any of the Secondborn been invited to attend the White Council," Curunír said with a faint sneer. "They are weak and willful and more like unto the Enemy in their thinking than not, always grasping for power and prestige, always consumed with what they can win today and never thinking about the morrow or the next day after. There is little wisdom among Men."

"Harsh words, my lord," Elrond said quietly, "and untrue. My brother’s descendants are far more honorable than you give them credit for."

There was an uncomfortable silence and Curunír realized he’d gone too far in revealing his contempt for the Mortals who seemingly overran Middle-earth like an infestation. He had never understood the Creator’s desire for such creatures and could barely countenance that the One would ever call them His Children.

"Forgive me, Elrond," he said with false sincerity, giving the Lord of Imladris a brief bow of his head. "I spoke out of turn. However, my fellow ithron’s observations are moot. The Men of Gondor are not here and therefore their opinions, if they even have any, are of no importance." Then he turned to the rest of the Council. "As for the Ring... at the worst our Enemy knows that we have it not, and that It still is lost. But what was lost may yet be found, he thinks. Fear not! His hope will cheat him. Have I not earnestly studied this matter? Into Anduin the Great It fell; and long ago, while Sauron slept, It was rolled down the River to the Sea. There let It lie until the End when all this world is broken and the deeps removed."

"If what you say is true," Círdan said, "perhaps I should consult with Lord Ulmo on the matter and confirm it."

Curunír shook his head, amused at the naivety of these Children. "Even if Lord Ulmo deigned to come to you he will most likely not reveal to you what he knows of the matter, if he knows anything. The Valar will not interfere in this. It is left to us to deal with what we find here for weal or for woe."

The ithron hid a smile seeing Mithrandir and Radagast nodding in agreement, though the latter did so reluctantly.

"Is that it then?" Thranduil asked. "Have we come all this way for nothing? The Ring is lying in the depths of the ocean, you say, and therefore can never be recovered. Yet, the Enemy is rising again. With or without the Ring that threat cannot be ignored."

"All we can do is watch and wait," Celeborn advised.

"As we have done too often in the past," Círdan said.

"Yet, what else can we do at this time?" Elrond asked. "The time of the Elves is over and we no longer have the strength to fight against the Shadow as we once did. And so, we will watch and wait and hope."

"Hope for what?" Legolas asked, in spite of himself.

Elrond smiled at the young ellon. "Hope that it will come out well for us all."

"My people will continue to keep the watch," Gildor said, "and garner whatever intelligence is to be had. We will send word to you all if we learn anything new."

"Thank you, Lord Gildor," Curunír said. "Your willingness to be the eyes and ears of the Wise is gratefully acknowledged." Well, that wasn’t strictly true, he thought. The Wandering Companies could be a threat to his own plans to have the Gladden Fields searched, but he would deal with that when he had to. At the moment, he was only concerned that he had dissuaded them all from thinking the Ring was anywhere where they could find it. "If there is naught else that needs to be discussed, then, I would call this Council to an end. I thank Lord Elrond for graciously hosting us."

They all stood and began to mingle, save Curunír, who stood in majestic isolation. Thranduil shook his head in disgust. "A wasted journey," Curunír heard him muttering.

Erestor, who had remained silent during the entire proceedings, approached the Elvenking with a smile. "I am sure your son does not think so," he said with a wink to the young ellon who smiled back at Elrond’s Chief Councillor. "It has been some time since either of you have graced us with your presence and I know Legolas would like to renew his friendship with Elladan and Elrohir."

"Will they return soon?" Legolas asked.

Erestor nodded. "In a day or two. They are riding with the Dúnedain, as is their habit."

Curunír moved away, heading for the interior of the house, for he planned to retire to his room in preparation for the long journey back to Isengard. He noticed, as he left the portico, overhearing bits of conversation from the others, that there was a great deal of dissatisfaction over the inconclusiveness of the meeting, yet all averred that there was little else they could do at that time. He smiled to himself. That was what he had hoped for. It would allow him greater freedom with which to search for the Ring without others looking over his shoulders, as it were.

He was stepping into the hallway leading to the main part of the house when he heard Elrond speaking to someone ahead. He slowed his steps and his breathing so as to listen to what the Lord of Imladris had to say.

"...and I forebode that the One will be found and war will rise once again, and in that war this Age will be ended. Indeed, in a second darkness it will end unless some strange chance deliver us that my eyes cannot see."

"Many are the strange chances of this world." Curunír recognized Mithrandir’s voice. "And help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter."

The White Wizard sneered in contempt at those words. If by ‘the weak’ Mithrandir meant Men, then he was more a fool than Curunír had originally given him credit for. Men were indeed weak, he thought, and in the end they will fail at anything they put their hands to. He allowed Elrond and Mithrandir to continue on their way before moving again, already dismissing the Council from his mind as he contemplated his next move: Rohan.

Now that he had taken over Isengard, he was in a position to manipulate events in the Land of the Horselords to his benefit. With Rohan under his control, Gondor would be alone in any war against Sauron. The Dunlendings would help him there. He sneered again at the thought. Yes, Men were indeed weak, but it was a weakness he intended to exploit. He would also have to do something about Mithrandir. He did not trust his fellow ithron. Well, he would come up with a plan to deal with the Grey Wizard while he was on the road back to Isengard.

In the meantime, he preferred to contemplate how he would continue the search for the One Ring, smiling at the thought of finding it, unaware that he was already nearly five hundred years too late.

****

All words are Sindarin.

Ithron: Wizard, the Sindarin form of the Quenya istar.

Ellon: Male Elf.

Belegaer: The Great Ocean separating Middle-earth from Valinor.

Adar: Father.

Historical Notes taken from Appendices A and B pertaining to the White Council:

2460: The Watchful Peace ends. Sauron returns with increased strength to Dol Guldur.

2463: The White Council is formed. About this time Déagol the Stoor finds the One Ring, and is murdered by Sméagol.

2851: The White Council meets. Gandalf urges an attack on Dol Guldur. Saruman overrules him. Saruman begins to search near the Gladden Fields.

2939: Saruman discovers that Sauron’s servants are searching the Anduin near the Gladden Fields, and that Sauron therefore has learned of Isildur’s end. He is alarmed, but says nothing to the Council.

2941: The White Council meets. Saruman agrees to an attack on Dol Guldur, since he now wishes to prevent Sauron from searching the River. Sauron, having made his plans, abandons Dol Guldur.

2951: Sauron declares himself openly and gathers power in Mordor. He begins the rebuilding of Barad-dûr.

2953: Death of Turgon, Twenty-fourth Ruling Steward; Ecthelion II becomes the new Steward. Death of Fengel of Rohan; Thengel, who had been residing in Gondor, returns to Rohan, becoming the sixteenth king of the Rohirrim. Soon after Thengel’s return, Saruman declares himself Lord of Isengard and fortifies it. He then begins to give trouble to Rohan, encroaching on its borders and supporting its enemies. Last meeting of the White Council. They debate the Rings. Saruman feigns that he has discovered that the One Ring has passed down Anduin to the Sea. Saruman withdraws to Isengard. Being jealous and afraid of Gandalf he sets spies to watch all his movements.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List