The ride to the bottom of the ravine had been tense, and none of the companions spoke as they descended the rocky trail. The screeches of the Nazgul along with the shouts and cries of voices unfamiliar to the group echoed down into the valley, filling the group with fear. Gerithor urged them on at greater speed, for he was eager to reach Rivendell as quickly as possible.

Soon the gates of the hidden sanctuary came into view, along with the cascading waterfalls that emptied into the river in front of it. A great bridge arched over the river, right where the falls met the riverbed. Countless colorful trees adorned the banks, and the scent of pine resin filled the air, carried along by a gentle breeze that rustled the leafless branches.

As the small band approached the bridge, two elven sentinels halted them. They were dressed in the silver armor of Rivendell, and they wore flowing blue cloaks that were draped around their shoulders. Though they were but guards, they were prepared for war and they each carried a tall spear and a shield.

"Halt! State your business!" One of them called out in a clear voice. Gerithor raised his hand, signaling his companions to stop.

"Your warrior, Glorfindel, is in danger! He needs aid!" He exclaimed, motioning up the ravine to the forest that loomed there.

"We are aware that he went forth from here to battle the Ringwraiths, along with two other elves. We are also aware that they are more than capable of dealing with the wraiths," one of the guards said with an air of indifference. "But Lord Elrond indeed sent aid henceforth, whether it be needed or not."

"That is good," Gerithor said as he moved closer. Both guards moved their spears to block the passage ahead. 

"We wish only to enter Rivendell, we are friends of Lord Elrond," Gerithor said, surprised by the elves' behavior. 

"None enter except by direct permission from Lord Elrond Halfelven. Any who seek to pass without such permission will be prevented from doing so, by force if necessary," the guard replied in a voice that sounded as though he had repeated the same words many times that day.

At that moment Taliel rode ahead of Gerithor, until her steed was mere inches from the guard. The guard, though disciplined, was forced to take a step backward.

"We are here for the Council. If you do not let us through Lord Elrond will be displeased," She said menacingly.

The elf nodded disaffectedly, and pulled an elegantly decorated scroll from his belt. His eyes ran down it, and after a moment he looked up at Taliel.

"Your name?"

"Taliel. Though it is Edhael, my companion, who was invited to the council, not I."

The guard ran his finger down the list, and after a moment he nodded again.

"He is indeed on the list. You may go." He and his companion stepped aside, allowing the group to pass unhindered. The silent guard raised a horn decorated with silver runes to his lips, sounding a long clear note that echoed through the valley. The gates on the other side of the bridge opened slowly, and another sentinel that stood on the wall called out in Sindarin, heralding Edhael's arrival. Edhael took the lead, a smug but dashing smile on his face. The rest of the company followed behind, Taliel rolling her eyes and the other two silently taking in their surroundings.

They passed through the open gates into a beautiful courtyard. Statues of elven heroes stood silent watch over it, and the ground was paved with pure grey cobblestones. A fountain in the likeness of a beautiful elven maid stood in the middle of the courtyard, a gentle stream of water descending into a pond from a silver pitcher in the maiden's hands. Birds chirped happily from several white-flowered trees that stood around it, and the scent of the blossoms reached the traveler's noses.

As they approached an elegantly dressed elf descended a flight of stairs and made his way towards them. The four companions dismounted and met the dark haired elf near the fountain.

"Mae g'ovannen! Gi nathlam hi," the elf said reverently, bowing before the company.

"Le fael, mellon," Gerithor replied, returning the bow. Legolas and Edhael bowed as well, but Taliel stood tall, silently staring at the elf.

"Ah! One of the Dunedain who speaks our tongue! You are most welcome here, friend." The elf smiled as he signaled for the four travelers to follow him. "You must be Varonwe. I have heard much of you, from both Estel and Elladan. I am Gelon."

"A pleasure to meet you. I must admit, I'm surprised that Lindir wasn't the one who greeted us though," Gerithor replied. In his visits to Rivendell, it had always been the dry, stiff-mannered elf Lindir who had greeted him at the gate. Gelon was unfamiliar to him.

"Ah, yes. Several visitors have said just such as that. Lindir wished to attend a poetry reading in the library hall, so I have taken his duties over for the time being. Though when I volunteered to replace him I did not know that so many visitors would arrive today. But tell me, are you not Varonwe? You did not answer when first I mentioned it."

Gerithor smiled politely, following Gelon up a flight of stairs that led to the main House. "Indeed I am Varonwe, though most just call me Gerithor."

"Varonwe means 'loyal.' From what I've heard of your quests, such a name befits you far more than that of a simple ranger." Gelon stopped once they reached another courtyard, and turned to face them. "Know that many important and influential beings from all across the reaches of Middle Earth will be here. I advise that you make yourselves more..." He looked them up and down with disdain, giving a sniff of disapproval before continuing. "Presentable. There will be clothes in each of your wardrobes, sized to each of your specifications. Though we did not expect you to be here, Varonwe, so we have nothing that would suit you. Perhaps your cousin's wardrobe would suffice?"

Gerithor shifted slightly, uncomfortable at the thought of having to dress in something other than what he was used to. "I suppose his clothes would be acceptable, though I do not know where his room is."

Gelon waved him along as he continued to lead them toward the guest house. "No need to worry. I shall show you all your accommodations. Right this way."

The guest house was large, and a hallway went through the middle of it from which many rooms branched. Several visitors were already meandering about the hallway, and as Gerithor passed a tall, wide shouldered man bumped into him.

"My apologies!" The man exclaimed as he took a step back. When he saw Gerithor his eyes brightened. "What is this? Another Man at last! It seems that there are naught but mild-mannered and haughty elves here, what a joy it is to see you!"

Legolas and Taliel glared at him, but Edhael laughed lightly from behind Gerithor, seeming to be amused by the stranger's words. Gerithor smiled politely.

"Indeed, Men seldom come here. And you are not one of my brethren, unless you perhaps come from Annuminas," he replied. At this the man's eyes widened in surprise.

"Are you one of the Dunedain?" He asked.

"I am," Gerithor said. "I am called Gerithor. And are you perhaps from Dale? Or Gondor?"

"I am the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor," The man replied with a bow. "My name is Boromir; I am here for the Council on behalf of my father."

"Then we are kinsmen from afar, my friend," Gerithor said with a smile that Boromir returned. "I hope that you and your people are able to gain from whatever decisions are made at the Council."

Boromir put his hands together as he frowned. "As do I, though I begin to question whether or not my people's needs will be addressed. Lord Elrond has seemed rather disaffected by our plight."

"Do not worry, my friend," Gerithor replied. "Lord Elrond may have seemed uncaring, but he rarely shows his true thoughts until he has considered a matter thoroughly. Keep up hope!"

"Thank you for your words of encouragement," Boromir said, his smile returning. "I have an errand to run. Will I see you again at the Council?"

"Perhaps. I have not yet decided, as councils and meetings bore me to no end," Gerithor said with a laugh. "Should I choose to attend, you shall find me in a chair near the corner, comfortably napping."

Boromir let out a merry laugh and thumped Gerithor on the back. "A man of action rather than words! You give me hope, Ranger. It seems that warriors are few and far between in these lands." He grew serious at his last statement and glanced at several passing elves with distrust.

"I'm afraid they are, though I do not consider myself a warrior. I only wish to defend those close to me," Gerithor replied.

"Then we have like purposes, Gerithor of the Dunedain. Dark times are ahead, we shall need all the strength we can gather to face it."

With those words Boromir turned and walked away slowly, a grim expression on his face. Gerithor watched him disappear around a bend in the hallway and turned to Gelon.

"As I mentioned before, all manner of folk are here for the Council," the elf said with disdain. "Even loudmouthed Gondorians who show no manners towards their hosts."

Gerithor began to object to Gelon's words, but the elf began to walk and as he did he spoke nonstop.

"Gondorians, Dunedain, elves from Mithlond and Mirkwood... Even dwarves, if you can believe it!" He rattled on. "Lord Elrond is truly desperate to allow dwarves into such a shining haven of Elvendom as Rivendell! But I must say, the Gondorian has been more rude than even them! At least they show their appreciation for the hospitality we've shown every once in a while..."

Gerithor began to tune the chattering elf out as he observed his surroundings. The guest house eventually merged into the main building, and where they met there was a common room that was filled with countless books. They were organized neatly upon tall bookshelves and several elves were sitting on benches, quietly reading. The room would have been completely silent had it not been for Gelon, who didn't bother to lower his voice as they entered.

The elves that had been reading looked up in surprise, aggravated that they had been disturbed. Gelon took no notice however, and continued to talk.

"This is the library! Or well, part of it! Here you can find just about anything that your heart desires, from historical accounts to Elvish comedies! I personally find the Second Age elvish poetry the most interesting..."

Gerithor rolled his eyes, annoyed by the elf's antics. For an elf of Rivendell Gelon was rather loud and obnoxious.

Suddenly an elf called out from outside the building.

"Glorfindel's returned! And he's brought Halflings!"

Glorfindel's clear voice called out urgently, slightly muffled by the wall that separated the ranger from him.

"Call for Lord Elrond! One of them is mortally wounded!"

Gerithor and his friends ran from the library to see what had transpired, leaving Gelon to stand silent, slightly confused as to why everyone had left so suddenly.

Gerithor quickly spotted Aragorn near the back of the newly arrived group, speaking quietly with Glorfindel. Three halflings stood or sat nearby, all of them wearing frightened expressions. A fourth was being taken to Elrond's home by two young elves. He was pale, and looked as though he was already nearly dead.

Gerithor made his way to Aragorn, and when his cousin saw him they embraced.

"What happened? Which Halfling was the bearer?" Gerithor asked breathlessly as he surveyed the three hobbits that remained in the courtyard.

Aragorn's face grew grim, and he looked towards Elrond's house. "The one that was injured was the bearer. Frodo was stabbed by one of the Ringwraiths on Weathertop when we made camp there."

"Will he survive?"

Glorfindel spoke up in answer, his voice lowered. "He should, though we were fortunate. A few hours longer and he too would have become a wraith. We underestimated them."

At Glorfindel's words Gerithor felt a chill creep up his spine. If even Glorfindel had such difficulty, what hope did they have? It would only be a matter of time before the Nazgul would grow bold, perhaps even bold enough to attack Rivendell itself. Especially since now they knew where the Ring was.

"Where are they? How much time do we have before they attack?" Gerithor asked quickly. He was already planning in his mind for such a disaster.

"They are gone for now," Glorfindel replied. At this Gerithor let out a sigh of relief. "They were defeated at the Bruinen, though they will return in time. But I do not think they will attack, now that they know that I am here."

Aragorn crossed his arms, his eyes alight with determination. "Now we must decide what course of action we should take, for we cannot sit idly. Sauron's servants won't."

Hey everyone! Finally was able to write some today! I will be going back and editing this chapter eventually, but for now I wanted to put it out so you guys don't think I've abandoned the story. Enjoy!