8 Blasted jewel !

A single clear bell rang as Frances walked briskly over the polished floor. The maid that had escorted her through the numerous glistening halls of Imladris suddenly stopped and turned around to face her:

- "There held the council. Lord Elrond is waiting for you now."

Then she gracefully bowed, and was gone, her cold beauty disappearing from sight rather sooner than later. Petrified, Frances knew exactly what she had to do but could not resolve herself to go forward. She had never been surrounded by such ageless wisdom, and saying that she was intimidated to participate to the council was a euphemism. What could she, mere mortal woman of eighteen years old, change to the fate of this world? It wasn't the first time she ended influencing some events that were I much bigger than her abilities, but this time it felt different. This time she did not feel insignificant compared to the people she gravitated around. This time she felt like a scum of dirt embedded on a rock of the magnificent city. Her experience and capabilities were so small and ridiculous compared to elven skills. Try as she might she could not fathom why they had summoned her. The blue rock may have known, but it unfortunately had never given any advice on his own.

So there she was, hidden behind a few bushes with her light blue flowing gown, hesitating to make the first step and reveal her dullness to the highest beings of this world. However, knowing that elven senses might have detected her by now Frances took a deep breath and kicked herself to go on. Crossing silently the little distance that separated her from the council site, the young lady finally emerged in the open air stone room.

Many eyes fell on her as she advanced in the veiled sunlight. It had been only a few weeks since she had come to meet the elves, and a lot of information had been given for her to swallow from different sources. It was still very unclear to her how the big pictures included this council and the finding of the one ring, and all those new races intimidated her. Knowing that ageless beings were now judging her and her presence in a war meeting was not reassuring either. As her eyes timidly swept overthe assistance, she saw many elves whose faces were familiar. Elladan and Elrohirsat between their father and Estel, faces grim, clad in a clean attire thatspoke of their status. They certainly could look intimidating when clad intheir full regalia; the wink Elrohir sent her way, though, broke his imagerather quickly. Frances addressed him a fond look before her eyes noticed the elfLord Glorfindel beside Estal. Aside from Elrond, he was known to be one of therare beings that had survived the first age and stayed in middle earth. His agealone could have been enough to crouch at his feet for guidance.

However, it was not the Elf Lord himself that challenged her coming, since he trusted Lord Elrond on many matters; his kind behaving alike. The dwarves, welcomed in the home of elves, did not seem more than surprised to see her appearance, and as she got a few curious glances from them she just smiled back. Familiar grey eyes gazed at her, and Estel nodded in welcome, saluting her last move that would appease tensions between elves and dwarves by a hidden smile. From Frodo and Bilbo only warmth was given to her, and the only hostility that was thrown to her curiously came from a man. The clear look of disdain that he shot the young lady said much on his opinion of women in matters of war, but before he could voice his concerns Lord Elrond saluted her, cutting short the probable banter that he sensed coming between the two representatives of the same race.

- "Be welcomed Frances", he stated without moving.

- "Thank you my lord", she bowed before gracefully taking her place beside Frodo who shot her a look of hope.

It was no secret that he also felt out of place, and finding somebody he knew aside him, albeit not so much, reassured him greatly. The young lady smiled warmly at him, and reported her attention back to the assembly. Already, most of the participants were eyeing Lord Elrond, waiting for him to open the discussions. However, one man was still rudely staring at her, and Frances could not help but stare back at him, trying to discern if the hostility he poured was due to the circumstances of the meeting or really her presence.

- "Here" said Elrond, "is Boromir, a man from the south. He arrived in the morning and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for there his questions will be answered."

This was how the council started, but of Boromir, Elrond said no more, the presentation feeding Frances' curiosity about this strange rusty-haired man. However, the turn of the events distracted her soon enough as Gandalf, Strider and Lord Elrond started discussing the status of many lands she was not familiar with. Her ears wide open, the young lady could not help but drink in everything they said, fascinated by the history of middle earth, and wondering here and there about the past of those people who seemed to be lost to them.

Finally, the oldest dwarf started a long tale about the people of the lonely mountain, and Bilbo stopped squirming in his chair as he listened. Glóin spoke about the unsettling feeling that pushed his nephew, Balin, to get back in the south and conquer again the mines of Moria. He counted how Moria had been deserted because the dwarves' greed has awoken the nameless fear, but of this great foe he did not tell more so that Frances could not understand what monster stood in the darkness, or even if it was a physical being. Truth be told, it took all her might not to screech when she heard that Balin's company had returned there regardless of it, and that the dwarves had lost contact with them. Who was crazy enough to do such a thing? Brave enough ?

The following tale was even more interesting, and Frances learnt more about the seven rings of the dwarves as Glóin told about the dark messenger that came to the lonely moutain. Dain's refusal seemed extremely loyal to Bilbo, and the little hobbit had shiny eyes as he contemplated the friends; they had gone such a long way to warn him about the enemy ! However, the most important thing she learnt in that story was that Sauron considered himself the master of Moria since he had offered to make Glóin master of the mines. Unfortunately, this also meant that Balin had very few chances to be alive still. Once more, however, it seemed that all that interested the dark lord was another ring, and once more the young lady wondered about the sacred jewels, as did the dwarves.

- "The ring! What shall we do with the ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?" finally said the dwarf, using the same words the messenger had stated to lure them. "That is the doom that we must deem."

They did not have to wait long for an answer since Elrond woke up again and said:

- "That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, stranger from distant lands. You have come here and here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so..."

Her head nodding absently, Frances could not agree more to what Elrond said. If he had not summoned any of those, it could not be a coincidence that a representative of each race could gather here, in a place where most of them never came, in this time of great need. Herself did not believe in coincidence either, especially since she always appeared with a perfect timing. The blue rock had summoned her just as well.

As Lord Elrond begun the tale of the ring, Frances found herself transported to the times of their forging in the Second Age long ago. The Lord of Imladris told them of Eregion and of the good relationships between Moria and the elves, and of the elven rings of power. As he told them of the second alliance of men and elves, his eyes turned distant, and it seemed like he described in detail a scene that passed in front of his very eyes. It was a very lively tale, and the young lady shuddered as she imagined the wasted lands and the last battle of Elendil and Gil-Galad against Sauron. It was after Elrond had counted their deaths that Boromir stood and said:

- "So that is what became of the ring! If ever such a tale was told in the south, it has long been forgotten... That is tidings indeed..."

- "Alas, yes!" said Elrond, his face distressed. "Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast into Orodruin's fire night at hand where it was made..."

So the ring could be destroyed by plunging in a volcano. Doing the math quickly, Frances realised that the jewel had probably been forged at an unusually high temperature that scored around twelve thousand degrees or more. None of it was sure deed, but she guessed that it was not worth forging a ring in a volcano if you could do it in a traditional forge, so it probably was a weird metal alloy that needed extremely high temperatures. Getting back to the story, the young woman realised that it was probably no point trying to rationalise this world. She sighed slightly at the thought that maybe there were no scientific explanations to elves and dwarves existence, and her eye caught Glorfindel's gaze for a second. The sword Smith slightly bowed to her, which surprised her, and turned his attention back to Lord Elrond's story.

Then, once the tale wall fully told and nobody had any comments to add, the Lord of the city called Frodo forth. Frances reached for his arm, squeezing once before the hobbit stood on shaking legs. Stunned by her own gall – she usually didn't go touching strangers – Frances was rewarded by a grateful look. Frodo's blue gaze then passed to Bilbo and, upon a nod of the hobbit, walked slowly to the stone pedestal. His hand reached into his pocket, and with a reluctant move he let the ring fall on the grey surface. Frances expected the jewel to roll over, but instead it just landed flat, like it weighed a thousand tons. Nobody noticed when the hobbit got back to his seat, for everyone's eyes were glued to the ring.

The perfect golden colour reflected the timid sunrays that glided over the eclectic gathering. Amidst from his unusual size, there was something unnatural in the flawless shape of the jewel. After being instructed about the great wars it had caused, Frances was contemplating for the first time the most powerful weapon of evil. The mere thought that such a tiny thing could ruin the life of thousands and corrupt the kindest hearts was ridiculous, but a quick observation around the stone stage convinced her that everything was possible. Frodo's face was tense, his expression twisted in a painful grimace. As she swept her eyes across the participants, she realised that the hobbit wasn't the only one affected by the ring. From angst to envy, all the nuances could be read on the faces of the different races, even on the usual flawless features of the elves. Elladan and Elrohir werefully engrossed in the jewel, oblivious to the world. Lifting an eyebrow in disbelief, the young woman concentrated her thoughts on the ring and closed her eyes for good measure, but still she could feel nothing more than the fresh air from the mountains and the weak sunrays warming up the back of her head.

Several comments were ushered but the young lady did not falter from her meditation, her eyes wide open again in an attempt to look interested in the events. After a while of nothingness, she finally heard it amongst the voices of others. It was a faint hissing, nearly unnoticeable especially since the words were in an unknown language. However, surprisingly enough, the inner meaning of this whispering was crystal clear. With this ring at her finger, Frances would become powerful beyond understanding and protect her friends, fighting evil like no one would, and be revered like a true hero. Never again would she have to look into the face of a dying friend, see the blood pooling from their wounds. Helpless... never again ! The pull was intense, and for an instant her feet nearly took off on their own, crushing her resolve on the way. There was nothing she wanted more than helping people while keeping her loved ones safe; the ring had struck a sensitive chord.

However, none of those proposals broke the strength of her resolve. Warning bells echoed loudly in her head. Was this power worth dooming a world so beautiful for such uncontrollable power ? Her very love for the incredible city of Imladris was pouring out of her soul. As she would understand much later, the elves' beauty and kindness that had surrounded her since her arrival were the reasons she was first saved from the ring's influence. Her capacity to impregnate and merge into emotional ambiance had created deep love that would not be dislodged by a promise of power. The simple gift of empathy showed once more its strengh.

Deep down, the young woman also realised that taking this ring would be against all her principles. After her years in the service of her country, Frances held in high praise the results of hard work and she knew that time was sometimes needed to gain control. She remembered the path she had followed before being allowed to carry a weapon, and the wisdom she had gained by waiting. Today, she knew for sure that she would not misuse her hand gun, but three years ago that was less than sure. Learning from the frustration, the young woman had realised that it took time to get ready for more power, no matter how insignificant the difference was. For those reasons, thinking about the ring was nearly frightening, and she realised that only beings older than earth might confer the capacity to wield it. She did not want to be one of the owners; she did not possess the wisdom required for this.

Her decision made, the hissing started to fade and she felt like a fool for pushing away this opportunity. A little voice in the back of her mind tempted to reason with the frustration, but her temper started to rise. However, the anger did not have the expected effect since Frances scowled herself down from being so weak, and managed to shut down any thought about using the ring by keeping the envy at bay. She was who she was, no more and no less, and her intuition and courage had always been her strongest allies. It was no use wishing she was better unless she was willing to train for that. The countless hours in her sword master's company came back to her and she smiled. It had been worth it, and would have had no value were it given to her without effort. Trusting in her judgement seemed the only way to shut the radiating power off her thoughts. Dismissing the signal as irrelevant, like when choosing to ignore pain or hunger, Frances turned off the envy receptors and came back to reality. The discussion at hand could well decide of the fate of this world, and on the same occasion reveal the very reasons why she had been transported to middle-earth.