Chapter: The Council of Elrond
It had been five long years since Maedhros and Aragorn had begun their partnership. Together, they had faced down various threats across Eriador, working in the shadows to protect Middle-earth from the ever-growing darkness. But as the years passed, Maedhros knew deep down that something far greater was looming on the horizon. The storm was coming, and it would be unlike any other.
One day, as Maedhros was returning from a journey to the north, he received an unexpected invitation—a summons to the secret council of Elrond in Rivendell. The message was simple but urgent: a meeting to discuss the fate of the One Ring, which had been discovered by a hobbit from the Shire, named Frodo Baggins. The Ring was said to hold power beyond measure, and its very existence threatened all of Middle-earth.
Maedhros was no stranger to the importance of the Ring. Though he had never ventured to Rivendell, he had heard stories of Elrond, his distant cousin on his mother's side. His grandfather, who had shared tales of the old days, had spoken often of the Half-elven lord. But the storm in Maedhros's heart stirred at the mention of the Ring. This was no longer some distant threat. This was a call to arms.
He packed his things quickly, knowing that time was of the essence. The journey to Rivendell took several weeks, but Maedhros's mind never strayed far from the task at hand. With the Hammer of Fëanor slung over his shoulder and his trusted sword Anguirel at his side, he made his way through the wilds of Eriador.
The journey was arduous, but it gave him time to reflect on the path he had walked. He had been to the Shire before, having forged lasting friendships with Frodo, Sam, Pippin, and Merry. It was Frodo who had first caught his attention, a small hobbit with a heart larger than any warrior he had ever met. Maedhros had spent many months in the Shire, sharing stories and laughter with the hobbits, never imagining that one of them would soon carry the burden of the One Ring. It had been a long time since he'd seen Frodo, but their friendship had not waned in his heart.
Upon reaching Rivendell, Maedhros was greeted by a familiar face—Glorfindel, the golden-haired warrior of the elves. Despite having never met any elf outside his mother and grandfather, Maedhros was not entirely unfamiliar with their ways. He had heard much about the elves from his grandfather, and the legends of their ancient power still rang in his ears.
"Storm King," Glorfindel greeted him with a respectful nod, though his eyes seemed to measure Maedhros carefully. "Elrond has been expecting you. Come, the Council is about to begin."
Maedhros followed the elf through the winding paths of Rivendell, marveling at the beauty of the valley. He had heard tales of the place—the Last Homely House, where Elrond had made his home for ages, the refuge for those fleeing the darkness that encroached from the East. Now, Maedhros would enter this sanctuary for the first time.
As they arrived at the great hall, Maedhros paused to take in the sight of the gathered company. Elrond stood at the center of the room, regal as always, his silver hair catching the light. Though Maedhros had never met the elf-lord in person, he felt an immediate connection to him. Elrond was his cousin, a distant relative on his mother's side, but the bond of kinship was undeniable.
"Maedhros," Elrond greeted him warmly, his voice carrying an air of both familiarity and respect. "It is good to see you at last."
Maedhros bowed his head slightly, his gaze steady. "It is an honor, Elrond, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
Elrond's expression grew somber, and he gestured for Maedhros to join the others. "The shadow that we have long feared is upon us, Maedhros. The One Ring has been found, and we must decide how to deal with it."
The council chamber was filled with faces from all corners of Middle-earth—elves, men, dwarves, and even a hobbit. Maedhros recognized many of them from his travels: Gimli the dwarf, Boromir of Gondor, and of course, Legolas, an elf from Mirkwood, whom he had met on his journeys to the east.
But it was Frodo who drew Maedhros's attention most. The small hobbit was seated in the center of the room, his eyes downcast, as though the weight of the world was already upon him. Maedhros's heart went out to him. He had known Frodo since the hobbit was but a child in the Shire, and seeing him now, knowing that he bore the One Ring, filled Maedhros with a mix of pride and sorrow. The hobbit had always been special, but this—this was beyond anything Maedhros could have ever imagined.
"Frodo," Maedhros said, his voice soft but firm as he made his way over to the hobbit. "It has been many years since we last met. How are you holding up?"
Frodo looked up, surprised, his eyes widening as he recognized Maedhros. "Maedhros? I— I didn't expect to see you here. You look… different."
"I have had a long journey," Maedhros said, offering a small smile. "The world has changed, Frodo. And it seems that you have changed with it."
Frodo chuckled softly, though it was a hollow sound. "I didn't want this change, Maedhros. I never asked for it. But I guess sometimes the world has a way of making decisions for you."
Maedhros nodded somberly. "I know that feeling all too well."
The conversation was cut short as Elrond called the meeting to order. The fate of the One Ring was discussed, with various ideas proposed about what should be done. Maedhros listened intently, his mind racing through the possibilities. The Ring had to be destroyed. There was no other choice. But who would carry it? And what risks would they face along the way?
In the end, Elrond called for a vote, and it was decided that a Fellowship would be formed to take the Ring to Mount Doom, where it could be destroyed. The members of the Fellowship were chosen: Frodo, of course, would carry the Ring, with Samwise Gamgee by his side. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir would join them, along with Gandalf the Grey.
Maedhros, though invited, knew his place was not with them. His path was different, though he would not abandon them. His presence at the council was necessary, but his role in the coming war was still to be defined.
Before he could leave the hall, Elrond approached him once more. "Maedhros," he said, his voice quiet but urgent. "You are needed here, but your path lies elsewhere. You have much to offer, but I do not wish for you to bear this burden alone."
Maedhros met his cousin's eyes, his expression solemn. "I will do what I can, Elrond. But there are other battles to be fought."
Elrond nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "I knew you would understand. May your storm never consume you, Maedhros."
Maedhros returned the smile, though it was fleeting. He turned to leave the hall, his thoughts already on the next steps. The storm was coming, and Maedhros would be ready when it did. But for now, he had his own fight to face—and Middle-earth would need all of them to stand together.